pathologicalreid · 3 days ago
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little duck | s.r.
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in which Spencer is too excited about his first Halloween as a dad to remember he's supposed to be celebrating his birthday
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: jareau!reader, birthday party, halloween, dias des los muertos, roslyn talk, this IS my ffofa family but you don't need to read it to read this (just know that reader and jj have beef), mostly wholesome content, babies and having babies, the spencer reid dilf agenda! word count: 1.53k a/n: is this any good? not sure. it's definitely cute though.
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Your eyes flickered around the kitchen, trying to spot a familiar mess of brown curls that you’d lost track of about an hour ago. “Hey,” You said to Penelope, putting an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my husband anywhere?”
The blonde shook her head, taking the opportunity to glance around the house to see if he was hiding in plain sight, “Haven’t seen him,” she shared a look with Emily, who shrugged, “Did you check outside?”
Shaking your head, you sighed while picking up some trash from the counter and setting it in the trash. “No, thanks though,” you flashed them a small smile before continuing your way around the house, he wasn’t in the office or the library either.
The house was decorated in a hybrid celebration of Spencer’s birthday and Halloween. Décor for the latter had started going up in September, but the fake spider that Spencer put in the guest bathroom still made your heart race. Balloons fluttered in the air while you strode past them, “Hey, there’s the lady of the house,” your head snapped up.
“Hi Dave,” you greeted Rossi with a hug, “How are you enjoying the party?”
He lifted his glass of punch up, “Other than the fact that I’m not sure how you got the punch to turn green, it’s a beautiful party. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Thanking him, you promised to come back and chat once you found Spencer, who was still missing. As for the punch, you were under strict orders not to tell anyone how the punch had turned green, but you knew that Spencer had used spinach as a natural food dye. Personally, you were avoiding the liquid like the plague.
Finally checking outside, the only thing you found was Matt’s older four chasing each other with glow sticks while their father watched on. Kristy was inside with Rosemary, who wasn’t quite old enough to chase her older siblings yet. You smiled at the thought that maybe next year she’d be able to join the big kids.
Henry and Michael were on the playset, the older of the two trying to impress his younger brother by crossing the monkey bars. You waved at Michael on the swing before closing the door behind you, turning around to continue your search in the house, jumping when you found someone behind you. “Oh,” you hung your head in shock, “You scared me.”
Your sister smiled at you, “Sorry, I saw you looked like you were searching for something, I wanted to see if you needed anything.”
JJ made your chest ache. Every time she offered to do something for you or surprised you with a gift, she continued to get into your good graces, but it just reminded you of your broken bond. Shaking your head, you looked around the living room, “I’m just looking for Spencer.”
Recognition flickered in her eyes, “He went upstairs with Amelia about ten minutes ago. I didn’t see him come down.”
You sighed in relief once you knew where your husband and baby were, “Thank you.” Making your way to the stairs, you turned and spoke up again, “And J, take some leftovers home! I really don’t need all of it.”
Hopefully, you could convince everyone to take at least something home. Throwing parties was a curse, there was always too much food. You made your way upstairs, checking the master bedroom before peeking your head into the nursery, finally finding Spencer.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mila propped up in front of him, still learning how to stand unassisted. You leaned against the door frame, watching Spencer adjust her Halloween costume as she stared at him in wonder.
It was a tradition in your family for your mom to make the costume for Halloween, at least the first one, and Spencer was more than willing to adopt any tradition available to him, especially if it involved Halloween. You gave your mom free rein of the costume idea, so you shouldn’t have been surprised when she showed up before the party today with a baby duck costume in tow.
She was blowing raspberries at him while he brushed some feathers out of her face, “We’ll have to trim some of those, honey,” he spoke to her gently. He had refrained from putting the hood over her head, either because he didn’t want to ruin the tiny ponytail she had sticking up from her head or because he didn’t want her to get too warm, but she seemed more than content to be dressed in the bright yellow outfit.
You were thankful that she’d be comfortable in the costume because the rest of the week would be jam-packed. Tomorrow night was the FBI trunk or treat, then a Halloween party at Rossi’s, then actual Halloween, and then a Dia De Los Muertos party at Penelope’s to round off the week.
Honestly, you weren’t sure who was going to be more exhausted by the end of the week, you or Mila.
Eventually, you caught the gaze of your eight-month-old, who reached out and made grabby hands at you, exposing your location to Spencer, who turned his head to look at you, “Hey,” he said, still holding her upright even though his eyes weren’t on her.
“Hi,” you greeted back, unable to take your eyes off of the baby. More specifically, you were unable to take your eyes off of her costume.
You took a seat on the floor across from Spencer, who helped Mila off of her feet so that she could crawl to you, “Go see mama,” he urged her gently, watching as her tiny arms and legs carried her across the floor.
Once she reached you, she pushed herself up on your leg until you scooped her up, settling her in your lap and raising your eyebrows at him, “You know there’s a party going on downstairs.”
“I had noticed that, yes,” he answered, neatly folding the hood of Amelia’s costume and setting it in a pile.
Adjusting the bow on top of her head, you craned your head down and kissed the side of her head—she gurgled in response. “Did you know that they’re all here for you?”
Spencer smiled slightly, “I knew that too.”
Mila continued to babble while you looked at your husband curiously, “And yet,” you started, “You’re up here, putting her Halloween costume on while you should be at your birthday party.”
“I just wanted to see her in it,” he confessed, eyes flickering down at his daughter in her baby duck costume.
You had to admit, she was heart-achingly cute in the handmade costume. You were so happy when your mom brought up making the costume, not wanting to ask right out for it.
From the day she was born, Amelia was surrounded by family, you and Spencer made sure of it. She was cuddled up in the hospital with a blanket that Penelope crocheted. Even her nickname—Mila—had been granted to her by Derek’s daughter, who couldn’t quite swing the three-syllable name at the time.
There was a pit in your chest that was brought upon you by the symbolism of the costume, you often wondered what life would be like if your eldest sister was still around. You wondered what she’d think of your baby’s middle name—Rose—and if she’d think it was cool. “Hey, Spence?” You whispered, carefully standing up with Amelia in tow.
“Yes, my love?” He responded, following your lead and getting up off the floor, taking the baby from you, and changing her into pajamas.
You hummed behind him, taking the discarded costume and folding it up, placing it on top of the dresser until you needed it tomorrow. “Happy birthday,” you told him for the nth time today.
He smiled at you, resting Mila on his hip before he turned back to you, “Thank you.” Spencer leaned over and kissed you, the action receiving a coo from your daughter.
Laughing softly, you cupped her head tenderly, “It was a pretty good year, huh?”
Spencer pulled you into his side, you being held in one arm, and Mila in the other. “Yeah,” he murmured, “This one was definitely a favorite.”
Becoming a parent with Spencer was a dream come true, there was nothing you could think of that would top this year. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him, “So, what are you going to wish for this year?”
His gaze flittered down to the baby on his hip.
You shook your head immediately, “Pick something else,” you said, giggling at his silent suggestion. To you, it felt much too soon to think about another baby, and you knew Spencer was mostly joking. The two of you had previously decided on waiting.
Spencer sighed in response, looking between you and Mila, “More of this,” he answered, “The three of us, together.”
Raising your eyebrows, “Avoiding a party together.”
“As a family should,” he affirmed, beaming at you.
You were smiling so much that your cheeks ached, and you nodded your head in the direction of the door, “C’mon, there’s a cake downstairs with your name on it. Literally.”  
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cat-got-your-tongue · 3 days ago
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Drunk texting
DP&W!Logan x Fem!reader: featuring Wade
Summary: logan goes out with Wade and won't stop calling and texting your phone
CW: fluff | mention of alcohol | dirty talk | failed attempt at sexting | mature language | mention of sex | drunk logan |
Word count: Over 1k
Authors note: Hi, please be kind. I'm still trying to get back into writing. Not proofread. Requests are open. Divider by @saradika-graphics
My work will always be 18+ Minors do not interact or read.
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It was 2:00 am on a fucking Wednesday night and your phone was blowing up. Wade had dragged Logan out to have some "bonding time with peanut." Which was code for which of them could get drunk the fastest. It always led to the bar being completely drained of alcohol — usually with one of them coming home with a bruised eye (Wade).
Logan could drink, and so could wade. But he has such a high tolerance that the amount of alcohol he consumed in order to get completely drunk would probably kill the average man. Not good. That meant longer days spent working so he could pay off the tab. You didn't mind most of the time. Since he needed a break and have some fun every once in a while.
Your phone lights up next to your bed. You tried to ignore it, but it kept happening over and over. The loud buzz vibrating on the night stand. You groan and throw your pillow over your head. No use. The sound just kept getting louder and louder.
You sit up in bed and grab it, the bright light making your eyes water a bit. You look down, and your eyebrows shoot up. There were about 46 text messages, and over 10 missed calls. All from logan and a few from wade.
You open your text message app to read what the hell was so important that he had to blow your phone up in the middle of the night.
Lo 💕: miss you.
Lo 💕: Wades tupee is crooked, not telling him tho
Lo 💕: luv u ba.yb
Lo 💕: gonna fkc u wen I get home
Lo 💕: gonna have u soking my dick
Lo 💕: stop ignore me
Lo 💕: [image]
Your eyes were still trying to adjust to the screen of your phone as you read through every text message logan has sent. You sighed, looking at the picture he sent you. You could tell he was absolutely trashed. He was in the run-down bars bathroom. The lighting in there was dim, and the mirror was dirty. He was holding his semi hard cock in one hand and had the bottom of shirt in between his teeth. The sight alone had you squeezing your thighs together. His abs were flexed and a little sweaty, making his happy trail stick to his skin. You had to take a deep breath and calm yourself.
You clicked back and went over to the texts Wade had sent you. You were trying to get your mind off of the selfie logan sent.
Wade: don't worry pookie is fine.
Wade: he's got his tits out like a slut.
Wade: okay now he's fighting
Wade: Okay now he's fighting ME
Wade: I'm not even drunk. I've been having the bartender give me water the whole night 😈
Wade: is he in heat ??? All he's been talking about is fucking
You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. You knew the second wade got logan through that front door it was over. Just as you had that thought, the door went bursting open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang.
"Speak of the devil." You mumbled under your breath. You walked out and saw Wade throwing logan back onto the couch.
He turned to you. "Sunshine here decided to start hmmm his fourth bar fight of the night, so we got kicked out."
You ran your hand down your face and looked down at where logan was slumped over. "Bad night?"
"Nah, luckily, he got whiskey dick of the claws, so no one was shanked." Wade shrugged as he readjusted his toupee. You fought the urge to laugh when you remembered logans text from earlier.
You let out a sigh of relief that no one was actually hurt tonight. You don't know what you'd do if you had to bail logan out of jail. Knowing Wade, he'd probably would just break him out.
"Well thank you for taking him out tonight. He's been......kinda down lately." You spoke as your eyes were still trained on your boyfriend.
There was pause before he spoke up again. He knew how much his friend could get into his own head and overthink.
"No problem. I'm gonna leave you two alone before he wakes up and tells me how much he wants to eat your ass again." Wade gave you a sympathetic pat to your shoulder and quickly hauled ass out of your apartment.
He wasn't gonna stick around incase logan decided to whip out his cock. You couldn't blame him.
Your face got hot, and you groaned again. Logan always had such a way with words. The thought of him telling Wade anything about your sex life was enough to make you want to go hide under your blanket. Now you were wondering what the hell those two talk about when you or Vanessa were not around.
A low grumble sounded from logan as he woke up. His eyes were dropping, and his speech was slurred. He looked around, confused as to where he was until he saw you. He gave you a weak smile and patted his lap for you to sit.
"C'mere" logan hiccups. "Been missin' ya all night." He tried reaching for you.
You immediately slapped his hand away.
"Nuh, uh, I'm gonna make you some water, and you're gonna sleep on this couch until you're sobered up." You shook your head and backed away.
"Then maybe just maaaybe you can have me in the morning. Deal?"
Logan pouted and sunk deeper into his spot. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit. You couldn't deny the sad pout on his face was cute. He looked so annoyed with you, but he didn't have it in his heart to be mean. Never to you. No matter how drunk logan got, it still didn't keep him from having that soft spot for you.
"Why don't you stand between my legs and lemme eat your pussy then." He slurred again.
"Jesus christ." You muttered and went into the kitchen to pour him some water.
You'd think you would be used to his dirty talk by now. Yet he still managed to surprise you with it. If he wasn't drunk off his ass right now, you would have peeled off all your clothes and let him have you right there on that couch— letting him stuff his cock so deep in your pussy it made your legs tremble before he even started moving. You shake your head of those thoughts and continue getting him his water.
By the time you came back, he had already passed out. You sat the water down and helped him into a more comfortable position. Throwing a blanket over him, you placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. Quickly, you went back into your bed to get some sleep. You're sure by morning he would be back to normal. He didn't get hangovers much. Maybe you'd take him up on all of his all of those offers once he's sober.
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shjsnjkj · 2 days ago
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DAD'S BEST FRIEND┊l.hs
kinktober day 21! - masterlist
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warnings: smut, MDNI, unprotected sex, making out, nicknames, age gap
genre: smut
wc: 2,5k ✧.*
☆ heesung x reader ; Heeseung was your favorite person when you were a little girl, but after moving to a new country, you slowly started to forget him through the ages. Forget all his beautiful features, the memories you shared with him, and the song he sang to you the last night you saw him. Receiving little kisses and sleeping with him wasn't the same as you remembered either.
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When you were a little girl, your dad used to invite his best friend, Heeseung, over to your house every weekend, and you couldn’t have been happier. You loved him because he was always kind, and he brought you small yet sweetest gifts like chocolate, a plushie, flowers, hair clips, and other cutesy things. You ran into his arms, he picked you up and gave you a little peck on the cheek.
Heeseung adored you and treated you like his own little girl. That's why he surprised you with something nice on weekends, and you slowly started to feel like he was your family member.
In the summer you went on a holiday together to the sea. You built sand castles and played together in the sea. He stayed by your side all day, read you a goodnight story, and even slept with you after dinner when your parents went out to have a romantic dinner together. You felt never-ending joy throughout the whole week but little did you know, that this was the last time you would spend this much time together and be this close to him.
After the trip, your parents announced that you’ll be moving countries next month. Your little heart broke when you realized that you won’t see Heeseung anymore. You started crying.
“Dad I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want to say goodbye to uncle Hee.” -You cried holding his legs.
“Darling, you will see Heeseung, you don’t have to say goodbye forever”
“That’s not true, please let me stay here with him ”
And you were so right. After you had to say goodbye for almost 10 years, you slowly started to forget the hurtful, empty feeling that Heeseung left in your heart as you grew up. Furthermore, you made a lot of friends at the new place which also made you forget about the feeling of missing him. Searching him through the internet or asking his number from your parents was nowhere in your mind either.
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This summer you went to work in a cafe. Today was a usual day, you did all your tasks at your workplace until your dad called you up at the end of your shift saying that you’ll be going on a vacation 2 weeks later.
“Hello darling, just wanted to let you know that we’re going on a trip soon. So buy yourself something if you want. Tell me how much money you need and I’ll send it to you.” -then he hung up on you.
“Fine Dad, thank you for saying and listening to my answer as well.”
Right at that moment your phone started buzzing again.
“I forgot to mention that Heeseung will be joining us, he can finally take some weeks off of his company”
You froze at hearing Heeseung’s name. The last time you heard his name was the time when you said goodbye to him. It was around a decade ago. You remembered that moment so well. He gave small kisses on your head while you hugged him as tightly as you’ve never before. Oh gosh, just forget it for now. A-and what about his company? He probably has a wife and kids for now too. It won’t be the same as it used to be — you thought.
However, the real question was how should you act? How should you greet him? Or worse how will you talk to him?
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“Are you ready sweetheart?” -Your mother asked.
“Nuhuh” -you muttered under your breath- “Yes I am” - you screamed from your room.
“Let me take this from your hand” -Your dad said, putting your suitcase in the car.
You put up your headphones on your head and sit inside the car. The ride was quite long but you were busy guessing what will happen when you saw Heeseung. Will he treat you like a baby or will he remember you? How will you react after seeing him with his wife and children? Will you be alone for the whole trip? You didn’t know the answers to your questions. Slowly you saw the airport sign which helped you come back to reality and realize that it’s time to face Heeseung.
You stepped out of the car, got your suitcase, put your headphones down onto your neck, and headed inside the building with your family.
In less than 5 minutes you heard your dad’s voice, greeting Heeseung.
“Heeseung, long time no see, it’s good to see you again.”
You stayed aback, and looked down, not ready to meet him. But as soon as your name was called you turned your head to the left and your gaze met with Heeseung’s immediately.
There was he, in black jeans with a white shirt, and black sunglasses at the top of his head letting you see his brown bambi eyes for the first time after a while.
“Y/n come here, say hi to your uncle.” -He said sweetly.
You froze. Despite being the next to greet him you couldn’t take a step further.
Heeseung saw your shocked reaction so he decided to come instead and quickly greeted you with a warm hug as always. But this time you didn’t jump into his arms.
“Hello sweetheart, did you miss me? I missed you so much, you know?” -You just stood there still not moving but then it felt right to hug him back slowly, your hands staying on his back. His perfume and warmth made goosebumps all over your skin so you decided to take a step back.
“Don’t mind Y/n she’s a bit quiet these days.” -your dad told Heeseung.
“Ah, I understand. She grew up, I’m no longer her favorite uncle Hee.” -He showed you a sad expression and turned his gaze back to your dad.
No longer your favorite? And what if he’s still your favorite? What if you still love him deep inside just as much as when you were little?
You felt a pang of guilt for your cold reaction. Despite the years apart, Heeseung's warmth hadn't changed. Later, you wanted to say something, to show him he still meant a lot to you, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you offered a small smile, hoping it conveyed what you couldn't express aloud before.
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As you boarded the plane together, you couldn't help but steal glances at Heeseung. His presence stirred up a mix of nostalgia and newfound curiosity. He looked almost the same like he didn’t age at all but he was more handsome in your eyes. You didn’t remember him looking like this but your relationship won’t be the same again, right?
Your parents sat at the first class (of course), Heeseung sat at the business class and here you were on the economy part stuffed between a lot of people. You were ready for the trip, feeling excited. You decided on sleeping after the plane took off, entering dreamland. After an hour you woke up and went to the washroom. It was locked. You waited for a few seconds then Heeseung stepped out of the cabin.
“Oh, hey Y/n. Are you here in the business class too?”
“Uhm, n-no. I’m in the economy class.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I have an empty seat beside me. Come and sit with me, okay?” -He gave you a heart-warming smile and stroked your arm softly.
“Really? I mean, thank you Heeseung.” -his touch sent a shiver down your spine while you tried to get out a word from your mouth.
“Yeah, of course. By the way, there is no need to speak formally with me baby. Just call me Hee or anything you want as you did before.”
“Oh, okay ” -you blushed and looked down, couldn’t look into his eyes- “Then I’ll go and look for you when I’m done Hee” -the word Hee felt weird trailing off your lips but you tried to adjust to it.
After getting your stuff, you moved to the business class and searched for Heeseung. When you found him you sat down and made yourself comfortable. You thought about watching a movie to pass the time somehow until suddenly you switched your plans. You hesitated about this move but slowly reached Heeseung’s side and touched his arm. He immediately turned his gaze to you and gave you a soft smile.
“Do you want to talk for a few minutes? We talked a long time ago.” -you whispered.
“Of course Y/n! As long as you want.”
“First of all, sorry for behaving like that before. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. I was shocked because it was the first time I saw you after 10 years.A-and..” -you stopped when he held your hand.
“You don’t have to say sorry Y/n. I fully get you. How about we make more memories this time to fill the gap of the past years? -your hands still in his.
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The first few days were amazing. Every morning you did your morning routine, dressed up in a bikini and a dress on top of that. Some days you let your hair fall down onto your shoulders and the other days you braided it. You packed your camera, and favorite book in your bag then you heard a few knocks on your door. It was Heeseung.
He went out with you every day to buy breakfast and eat it next to the sea. Those croissants were your favorite next to the cappuccino. You explored the village together while taking photos non-stop, and talking about everything you missed out from each other’s lives. After lunch, you bought some snacks and fruits to eat at the beach later. It made you feel nostalgic when you swam or jumped into the water together. Furthermore, sometimes you didn’t even realize when Heeseung took photos of you or accidentally you held hands.
Tonight, you went to a restaurant that had the perfect view to the coast and the village. You both admired how it was lit up by the moonshine and the pretty lights which made the night more beautiful.
“Do you remember when we were together like this years ago? Your parents had dinner, while we ate hamburgers with fries and a milkshake.” -he smiled brightly.
“I remember it too well…”
“Then we walked back together to the hotel and I slept with you after reading some goodnight stories and even played the guitar for you to sleep well.”
“Honestly, I can’t sleep well for years so I might ask you to sing something for me later.”
“Of course, princess but I have to ask you for something in return.”
“It depends on what would you ask.”
“Sleep with me.” -you choked on your drink.
“What?”
“Just like when you were younger. Nothing else just sleeping in the same bed. I miss that moment. That was the last vacation we spent together.”
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You did what you've agreed on. Heeseung played the guitar for you while you entered dreamland.
A few hours later, in the middle of the night, you felt an arm around your waist. There was no need to check who’s arm was that because you knew Heeseung stayed with you for the night.
“Uncle Hee” -you tried to turn around and face him which wasn’t quite easy due to his strong grip.
“Hm?” -he slowly opened his eyes.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Go on baby”
“Do you think this is wrong what we’re doing?”
“What do you think Y/n? Do you feel like this is wrong?”
“Uhm I don’t know actually. This feels so right but..” -you looked down, thinking about how to say out your feelings.
"But? Baby, don’t think about anything right now just try to relax." -He gently cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek. "As you do that, I’ll make sure you don’t overthink what feels wrong or right." -His voice lowered as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Your heart raced as Heeseung's lips finally met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was everything you had dreamed of and more, a perfect blend of the familiar comfort he had always provided and the new, exciting feelings blossoming between you. As you melted into the kiss, you knew that there was no way back.
His large hands started caressing your body while he kissed your plump lips passionately. From the new sensual sensation, you couldn’t hold back your moans which only made Heeseung want more from you.
Then, he moved to your neck peppering them with loads of wet kisses. Gently, he turned you to your back and pulled up your nightgown to reveal and let him kiss your soft bare skin. Goosebumps spread all over your skin from his touch and lips. “Heeseung” -you breathed out his name. He just reacted with a smirk and then came up to your beautiful face to give you one last kiss before pulling down your pantie.
“Aw baby, you’re so wet already. You’re so cute.” -He whispered and gave a small kiss to your pussy.
You tried to relax as much as possible but it wasn’t easy when Heeseung’s cock was buried deep inside your cunt and all you could think about is how he perfectly he stretched you out. Heeseung groaned at the feeling of how tight you were and squeezed around his length.
As he pounded into your sweet and sensitive pussy desperately, he reached your cervix making your eyes roll back in pleasure. Heeseung pulled you impossibly closer to his body by your waist and trusted you even deeper making you a moaning mess. You felt like you’d reach your orgasm anytime.
“Fuck, look at you right now princess, you’re taking me so well” -He said between his deep thrust.
“Heeseung, I-I’m gonna cum.” -You cried out, getting more closer and closer to it.
He grinned and slammed his hips into you harder and faster making clapping sounds of your skins smacking against each other.
“Cum for me sweetheart” -He said out of breath as he came at the same time as you right that moment. You clenched around his cock and he let his head fall back from satisfaction. His hot cum dripped down on your thighs which made you the happiest in that moment although you still trembled from the sensation. You were panting and mewing while Heeseung cleaned you up to pull you closer to him as fast as possible.
After that, he put the blanket on you, and gently pulled your fragile body into his arms. You kissed each other for a few more minutes until you started to feel sleepy and closed your eyes.
"Goodnight baby" -Heeseung whispered to your ear while looking at you finally drifting off to sleep.
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shrimpybbq · 2 days ago
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a missed moment
synopsis: Rafe misses the moment Charlie takes his first steps and is harsh on himself as always.
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Charlie was the light of Rafe’s life: anything his son did made him so proud. Every little smile, giggle or ‘dada’ made Rafe grin so widely someone would think he had been possessed. But he wasn’t possessed, instead just so incredibly proud to have his sweet little boy happy and healthy and growing. The love he felt for his son wasn’t something Rafe had ever pictured or believed in, not considering his own father, but now that he had felt it, he never wished to let it go. Rafe did his best to be there for all his son’s milestones, even taking embarrassing photos for when he was older, but it was the one he missed that sent him into a spiral.
Rafe had been spending the day out in Guadeloupe, doing his best to sort out the shit for his dad and spending hours feeling his stress levels rising to a boiling point. All he wanted was to rest in his bed, relax and spend time with his family, and yet he was walking around the island talking about dividends and shares. He wasn’t pleased. Rafe walked through the front door, feeling the tension seep from his body, ready to lie down, only to see his son standing upright, little Charlie’s chunky arms clinging to the side of their couch.
Rafe’s eyes bulged as he watched Charlie turn to him, a large smile overtaking his identical features, the boy letting go of the couch as he took small steps towards his father.
Fuck. He was walking. Walking. He hadn’t been able to do that yesterday.
His girlfriend sat near Charlie, her soft voice encouraging him to ‘keep going to dada’. She gave small claps of encouragement as he moved closer, cheering him on.
Rafe felt his heart squeeze tightly in his chest as his son began to reach his small, chubby arms out to his father, and he could only pick him up, encapsulating the small boy within his own larger arms.
"Good job, buddy," was all Rafe managed to utter, his mind racing at the new development. He turned to his girlfriend, asking quietly "When did he start walking?".
"He started trying yesterday, but this morning he tried to follow you out of the house," his girlfriend responded softly. It was clear to see how Rafe was feeling, him not even bothering to hide the sadness spreading across his features. Rafe had been trying to get Charlie to walk for weeks as his little body grew stronger, but to no avail. And now, he had missed it.
"I should've been here..." Rafe mumbled lowly, "not fucking around doing this shit for my dad." Charlie began to play with the collar on his father's shirt, not sensing the sullen mood of his father. His mother shuffled over towards him, softly stroking his hair as he rested his head against his father's chest. Rafe looked down at his girlfriend before averting his eyes - he felt like she could always see right through him.
"Hey - don't do that. You were doing that to make sure we're going to be safe and looked after. You said that yourself, so don't feel bad about this, ok? This is just one milestone in his life, and he is going to have so many more. You were there when he stood for the first time, and when he said his first word," his girlfriend reassured, her arms now wrapping around Rafe's waist. He let himself embrace her, Charlie joining the hug too.
"I-I know, but what if he remembers this shit and he hat-," Rafe began, only to be quickly cut off.
"Rafe, he's one. He's not going to remember any of this. All he knows is that his parent's love him more than anything, ok?"
Rafe remained tense for a moment longer, before a heaving exhale left his chest. With that, he resolved to let his worries go - his girlfriend was right. He knew his mind was confounding his worries, for he only wanted his son to know he loved him. Rafe never wanted Charlie to question his love for him. Caught up in his thoughts, Rafe didn't notice his girlfriend pulling away from him, her voice redirecting his attention suddenly.
"I need to get his dinner ready. Can you stay with him?"
The blonde nodded, receiving a quick peck on the lips in acknowledgement, before his attention turned to Charlie - his expression brightening as he looked down at his son. "We're gonna practice walking again, aren't we buddy?" he proclaimed, walking them over to the rug again. Rafe watched as his girlfriend laughed as she left the room, her disembodied voice telling them to have fun. Whilst she prepared his dinner, all she could hear were the giggles of a small child and the encouraging statements leaving Rafe. He became a whole new person when he was with his son, and the cheer he let out when Charlie managed to walk towards him again only made the young mother smile to herself, her heart swelling with happiness at the small family the pair had created.
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les4elliewilliams · 18 hours ago
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❝𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝚰𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝚰𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑.❞
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ghostface!bestfriend!ellie ✗ fem reader
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❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝚰 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.❞
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⚠︎︎︎.ᐟ ⌞warnings ⊹ cw⌝ ﹕ approx 20k words. (ik im sorry im always yapping too much.) headcanons!! mention of blood/murders, drugs usage. childhoodbestfriend!𝑒, perv!𝑒, ghostface!𝑒, switch!𝑒, v light knife play (𝑒!receiving+giving), handcuffing ghostface😊, oral/fingering, strap-on sex (r!receiving), extremely jealous/obsessive!𝑒, ellie gets off to eepy reader and they get off together on the couch yummyy... i think that's it?? ps ignore that ugly ass edited pic pls😭
.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞author's note⌝ ﹕ this isn't like the movies, it's a 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 story. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!
#.ᐟ ⌞taglist⌝ ﹕ @aouiaa @kaykeryyy @whoucallingalesbian @taylormarieee @co0kiemuncher @myathegoat @joordynn @iamhellagae @hearts444olivia @ion-news @broskideedle13 @ladyofcain @cheyisagirlkisser
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
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˳·˖𖤐 During her childhood, Ellie had a stern and intimidating demeanor that unintentionally scared other kids away. They’d be too scared to approach her, let alone play or talk with her, which left her in solitude most of the time. She got used to playing by herself and spent her recess in the corner of the playground. During lunchtime, she would eat the dino nuggets that her dad had meticulously prepared for her while sitting alone at the lunch table (being picky about food, she only ever had dino nuggets and was firmly convinced that regular nuggets did not taste as good). She seemed to find solace in drawing and would spend hours sketching in her green notebook, lost in her world of imagination.
˳·˖𖤐 Maybe, just maybe, the kids’ fear toward Ellie wasn’t unmotivated. She loved to cause chaos and conflicts among the other kids. She would start small fights, encourage others to fight, push kids off swings, or even break their toys. Even more concerning was that she seemed to get a kick out of other people’s misery and would laugh at their distress and discomfort, which was why many feared and avoided being near her.
˳·˖𖤐 Joel would often find himself rushing to his daughter’s school, trying his best to convince the school officials that his sweet little girl could never do anything to hurt other kids. Despite being smart and quiet, Ellie would sometimes find herself in trouble for things she claimed she didn’t do. She always stood her ground, insisting that if she ever did start something, it was only because another child had done something to her first. And, of course, her father always believed her and would go to great lengths to defend his baby girl.
Once, Joel was called to the principal’s office. When he entered the room, he saw the principal sitting behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Joel's heart sank, he could sense something was off. “My daughter would n—” Joel tried to speak, but the principal cut him off without missing a beat. “The teacher saw her. She pushed Jason off the swing and kicked him,” the principal stated, his tone firm and authoritative. Joel's eyes immediately darted to his sweet little angel, who was crying and pouting, giving him doe eyes as she shook her head to dismiss all the accusations. “No, Dad, I didn’t, I swear. He hit me first,” she said, trying to defend herself. “Heard what she said? She didn’t do it.” Joel always fell for that little dotted face. He would still stand by his beliefs no matter what the teachers or other kids' parents said. His baby girl would never hurt anyone. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything wrong.
˳·˖𖤐 You were never really scared of her—the quiet, introverted girl. In fact, you were quite intrigued by her. She always seemed to be the odd one out, sitting in the corner of the classroom or standing far away across the playground, watching everything and everyone so intently. What really fascinated you about her was her attention to detail. She never missed a thing and could remember every single detail of everything, almost like she had a photographic memory or something. 
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was fascinated with you. Ever since you helped Ellie pick up the pencils she had accidentally dropped, she couldn’t help but notice your gentle and soft smile, and from that moment on, she found herself unable to take her eyes off you. She’d just sit across the room, sipping on her apple juice box as she studied you curiously. To her, you were a delicate and pretty little girl, reminding her of a flower. She had always thought other kids weren’t as bright as her and weren’t good enough to be her friends, which led her to isolate herself from others. She thought of herself as better than everyone her age, and it was also why she would beat them up, finding them too stupid to put up with. But you were different. There was something about you that stood out to her, something that her childish brain couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t just your kindness, although that certainly played a big part in it. There was something more that made her feel like she wanted to be your friend, your close friend.
˳·˖𖤐 Even as a little kid, Ellie had always been a strategic and calculated person.
One day, she saw you playing in the sandbox and felt the urge to approach you, but she needed an excuse to do so. So, she concocted a plan. She told another kid that you had said something mean about him, knowing that he would confront you about it—Jason was a little of a troublemaker from what she noticed, so she was certain it would work. In fact, when the little boy confronted you, and you denied it, he quickly became angry and pushed you, causing you to fall into the sand. The sand got all over your beautiful frilly clothes, making you feel embarrassed and upset, your bottom lip wobbling. Ellie saw this as her chance to approach you and comfort you. She walked over to you and pushed the other kid, causing him to storm off. She quickly helped you up and offered you a slight smile, “You can’t let other kids treat you like that.” You nodded in agreement, grateful for her help, and threw yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much,” you uttered. She nodded and squeezed you, rubbing your back. “Maybe we can watch each other’s back from now on,” she suggested with a shy smile, the one that always fooled her dad as well. You were beyond ecstatic at her offer. You had long admired her from afar, and the idea of being friends with her was something you had dreamed of for a long time, but your shy nature had always caused you to keep to yourself. Even to you, she seemed smarter compared to other kids. “Can you be my friend?” you asked with a toothless grin on your face, batting your lashes at her. “Yes, I would love to,” followed by “Can I show you my dinosaur collection?” From that day on, you and Ellie became close friends, and her strategic and protective nature was always there to help you when you needed it.
˳·˖𖤐 You and Ellie have been inseparable, going through all the ups and downs of school and puberty together. She has been a constant source of support, always by your side through your best and worst days. You have shared countless memories and experiences over the years, and she has always been a true friend in every sense of the word. She was always there to protect you and stood up for both of you in any situation. You did everything together—you laughed, cried, and confided in each other like you were the only two people in the world. You shared all your first-time experiences, like getting drunk for the first time, going to parties, and even sneaking out of your house at night just to see her or hang out. Her father quickly became like a second dad to you, someone you could look up to and trust. You have always felt like a part of their small family, spending time together, sharing meals, and celebrating holidays with them. Your friendship has only grown stronger over the years.
˳·˖𖤐 During middle school, Ellie’s behavior remained consistent. Even in the new environment, she continued to find ways to get herself in trouble. She had a habit of talking back to teachers, getting into physical fights with other students, and arguing with pretty much everyone, almost as if she couldn’t contain herself; causing trouble was second nature to her. It was evident that she found pleasure in disrupting the peace wherever she went, which often landed her in serious trouble. Not that she cared, of course.
“Miss Williams, get your shoes off the desk. You are not at home, and you cannot do as you please,” The middle-aged teacher, who appeared to be in her late fifties, scolded her with a stern voice, her eyes narrowing with disapproval as she spoke. Her wrinkled forehead was furrowed with a frown, and her thin lips pursed tightly together. The teacher’s glasses, once perched on the bridge of her nose earlier, now hung from a chain around her neck as she continued to chastise the auburnette.
With a mischievous smirk on her face, the copper-brown-haired girl replied, “You can bet your wrinkled ass I’ll do as I please,” causing the whole class to erupt in laughter.
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger when Cassie, a girl from math class, called you stupid. You were her best friend, and she couldn't bear the thought of someone insulting you like that. She wouldn’t let anyone walk all over you. So, that same day, she approached Cassie after class with a fake calm demeanor and explained that her comments were hurtful and disrespectful. She initially tried to remain ‘polite’ to make you happy, but the situation quickly escalated to a physical fight. Unfortunately, this resulted in Cassie ending up in the nurses’ office with a broken bone. But she couldn’t help it. She had to look out for you, and Cassie fucking deserved it.
˳·˖𖤐 It was always just you and Ellie hanging out together. Other kids weren’t allowed to join you. Everyone in your school thought of you two as weirdos, but you didn’t care, both preferring each other’s company over anyone else’s.
˳·˖𖤐 You spent everyday together, either at her place or yours. Homework, video games, comics, and movie marathons filled your time, but the one thing that truly brought you together was your shared obsession with horror movies. You’d watch a new one each day, feeding off the adrenaline of jump scares and twisted plots. Ellie seemed to devour every film, but her favorites were always the slasher flicks—especially the Scream series. The thrill of being scared out of your mind became your thing. Soon, though, it wasn’t just the horror movies that captivated Ellie. She developed a deep fascination for true crime documentaries, and afternoons blurred into nights as the two of you sat in her room, binging tales of real-life terror, lost in your macabre little world together. You both would sit there, transfixed, eyes glued to the horror playing out on the screen, completely enthralled by the spine-tingling and mysterious events unfolding before you. The chilling stories on the screen drew you in, and your fascination with the morbid and the inexplicable would lead you to spend countless hours online reading creepypastas. 
˳·˖𖤐 You were each other’s first kiss.
One Friday night, you went to Cassie’s house for a small party—yes, the same Cassie that Ellie beat up and broke her arm. You guessed she had invited Ellie to get on her good side, considering their last fight. The poor girl was tired of fearing Ellie, but Ellie didn’t like her one bit and never would. Your best friend was reluctant at the idea of being surrounded by too many people, but you convinced her to go with you, saying it might’ve been fun to do something different for once. They kept teasing you, insinuating that you were more than just best friends. You were always around each other and touchy in ways that made them suspect that you were girlfriends. They noticed how you frequently held hands, hugged, and even kissed each other on the cheek. So, during a truth-or-dare game, they dared you to kiss your best friend. You looked over at Ellie, feeling shy and uncertain. You were waiting for her to say something to stop you from going along with the dare, but to your surprise, she didn’t. In fact, she had a small smile on her face, which made you feel more nervous for some reason. Feeling hesitant, you finally mustered up the courage to ask her, “Can I kiss you?” Your cheeks heated up as you spoke. The freckled girl rolled her eyes, trying to make you feel like you were being dramatic, “It’s just a game.” Finally, you leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the lips. Everyone in the room giggled and clapped their hands, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had changed between you and Ellie, yet neither of you dared to acknowledge it.
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie had always been very open about her attraction to girls. She never cared about what other classmates might have thought about her preferences. Even though they were not always accepting, they never dared to say anything negative to her face, fearing Ellie’s reaction to their comments. She openly rejected guys who showed interest in her, saying that she was not interested because she was a lesbian. Always commenting about pretty girls—and man, if that didn’t make you jealous. You’d often feel this intense jealousy inside you every time she talked to other girls or whenever other girls would approach her, even if she always rejected them, 99,9% of the time.
˳·˖𖤐 Why 99,9% and not 100%? Well, because another girl named Cat entered the picture. From the very start, it was clear that Cat was head over heels for Ellie, and how could you blame her? She’d blush every time Ellie glanced her way, always laughing obnoxiously at your best friend’s puns, even when they were terrible—and that was, like, all the time. She would also go out of her way to shower her with small gifts, all of which Ellie would accept with a sly grin that you found infuriating. She’d get her snacks and pass her cute little notes during classes, and the worst part was that your friend began to reciprocate Cat’s feelings, and the two of them grew even closer. You tried to accept their ‘friendship’ but found it increasingly difficult; watching them together became too much to bear, and you knew you had to take care of it. You never liked sharing, not even as a kid, so why start now with the most important person to you?
As the lesson dragged on, you grew more restless, your thoughts tangled in a knot of anxiety. You needed to have a little chat with Cat. Urgently. Unable to focus any longer, you raised your hand, asking the teacher if you could go to the toilet. When he gave you a nod in response, you hurried out of the classroom, your pulse quickening as you slipped through the quiet hallways. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small Post-it note, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrawled a quick message:
“Meet me in the bathroom after third period. — Ellie :)  ”
You carefully folded the note and slid it into Cat's locker, hoping she would see it soon. The next few hours felt like an eternity. You kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until the third period. Finally, the bell rang, and you made your way to the bathroom, hoping Cat would be there. As you entered the bathroom, you saw her standing there with a big smile. The same smile that faded in an instant as she saw you instead of the girl she liked. You greeted her with a mischievous grin and asked her if she was waiting for Ellie. “Yeah, she told me to come here after third period,” the raven-haired girl responded, looking puzzled. “Did she, or did I?” you giggled. Cat took a small step back, suddenly feeling creeped out by the way you were looking at her, almost as if you were planning to hurt her. You had never started fights in school or caused any sort of trouble, though Cat feared you. Maybe it was the endless rude comments you threw her way at any chance you got or the little things you did when Ellie wasn’t watching to make her feel threatened. “Is this some sick joke?” surprise flashed across her features before a more terrorized look replaced it. “Stop seeing her, don’t come near her, stop talking to her, don’t even look her way,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, almost possessive, as you stepped closer. She backed away with each step you took. “Wha-” Cat tried to speak, but you cut her off. “I catch you lookin’ at her again, I won’t be as nice.” you threatened. “I won’t—I’ll stop talking to her,” she stammered nervously, her voice trembling. A few sniffles escaped her before she ran off, mumbling her sorrys on her way out. “I hope you mean it.” She was already out of the bathroom, but you were sure she had heard you loud and clear. And you weren’t even gonna feel bad. She deserved it. How dare she come near the most important person in your life? What was she planning to do? Take her away from you? You sure as hell weren’t gonna let that happen.
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was struggling to understand why Cat had suddenly started ignoring her like a deadly disease. It was almost perplexing that the brunette wouldn’t even look at her, and whenever Ellie tried to approach her to talk, Cat would leave the conversation abruptly, only briefly glancing over at her. It was particularly puzzling to the redhead as she could not recall any misunderstanding or disagreement between them that could have caused such a drastic change in Cat’s attitude towards her—for once, she was nice to someone who wasn’t you, and this was the result? She felt confused and soon enough began to harass the girl, making sure her life was a living hell at school. How dare Cat ignore her? She wasn’t even that smart or pretty. Ellie only ever liked the attention she'd get from her; she was there just to boost her ego, and now she was ignoring her?
˳·˖𖤐 As you both entered high school, you remained inseparable, sticking to the shadows for the first few years, trying to blend in and avoid unwanted attention. Neither of you joined clubs or sports teams, preferring to keep to yourselves and steer clear of socializing. But by junior year, the routine started to feel stifling, and restlessness set in. You both realized you wanted more—something bigger than just being on the sidelines. Your best friend took the leap first, joining the soccer team, eager to break out of the monotony and possibly make new friends. She thrived there, quickly falling in love with the game’s intensity and the adrenaline that came with it. She never lost that sense of superiority, though—deep down, she believed she was different, better than the people around her. She stood out, and she knew it. You, on the other hand, joined the cheerleaders team. Dancing and performing had always been a passion, and it seemed like a perfect way to get involved. But as you spent time with other girls, you couldn’t help but notice how wrapped up they were in things that felt trivial to you—obsessed with popularity, looks, and gossip. It was hard to feel like you fit in, knowing damn well you didn’t. While your best friend thrived on her sense of superiority, you were left feeling like an outsider, trapped in a group you didn’t belong in.
˳·˖𖤐 Ever since you joined the cheerleading team, you stood out from the crowd. Your undeniable beauty did not go unnoticed, and soon enough, boys began to show interest in you. Every week, a different guy would try to catch your attention, hoping to ask you out or make a move on you. But Ellie was fiercely protective of you, claiming that none of these guys were good enough for you, whether it was a potential friend or partner. She would always find a way to scare them away, making it clear that you weren’t interested, always there reminding you that you were way too amazing for all of them and that no one could ever understand you like she did, even if they tried. She did not want anyone she deemed unworthy of your time to come close to you, and you liked it that way. To you, that was your definition of love.
“—so he just fell in front of the whole class, he couldn’t even-” You were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your best friend was out sick, missing all the juicy details, but before you could finish the story and turn to see who it was, the auburn-haired girl beside you spun around first. Her brows knit together almost instantly, and you could see the flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Her expression darkened as she processed the moment, clearly thrown off by the sudden attention directed your way. A kid you knew from theater class was walking toward you with a nervous smile, carefully holding a flower, making sure not to prick himself on the sharp thorns of the beautiful red rose. “Hey, I just wanted to ask you if-” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence—she was already prepared to go off on him as if he’d just insulted her entire family. In reality, he hadn’t even noticed a fuming Ellie standing right beside you. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on him with an intensity that made you sure if looks could kill, he’d already be dead. You opened your mouth to say something, but Ellie quickly raised her hand in front of you, silencing you instantly. She was going to handle this, just like always. “What makes you think she would ever go out with a loser like you?” Ellie hurled venomous words his way, leaving the poor guy stuttering and stumbling over his response. His face flushed bright red as if all the blood had rushed to his cheeks. He stood there, frozen in shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. His eyes darted nervously between you and the girl at your side, clearly unsure what to do next. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to express himself, his expression desperate as if he was silently begging for a reaction from you, anything. But before he could even get a syllable out, Ellie cut him off again, shutting him down before he could speak. “Heard what I said? She is not interested,” she repeated, but this time, her voice was tinged with impatience. “I’m sorry, I just—take this.” He handed you the flower, looking utterly defeated. As soon as it was in your hands, he turned around and walked away hastily, like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. She watched the guy walk away, her leaf-hued eyes fixed on him, unwilling to let go of the sight. Her face was slightly scrunched up in annoyance, her mind clearly racing with thoughts as she seemed lost in her world. After a while, she finally tore her gaze away from him and glanced at you briefly as if snapping back to reality. She let out a small ‘tssssk’ under her breath, trying to collect herself and shake off the jealousy lingering in the pit of her stomach. “Jesus, El. You’re evil,” You let out a small giggle and brought your hand to your mouth to cover it up. “Might have to kill half the school just for you,” She suddenly joked with a grin. She snatched the rose out of your hand and threw it on the floor forcefully. Red petals scattered on the ground as you both continued walking. Ellie made sure to stomp on the flower. She always had a very dark humor, which sometimes left you wondering if she meant any of what she said. She always spoke in such a serious tone, but maybe it was just her sarcasm being that way. Her words were often laced with a hidden meaning, and she had a way of making you question your interpretations, but you laughed at her joke anyway.
˳·˖𖤐 So, were you surprised when a few students started going missing? 
˳·˖𖤐 The leader of the cheerleaders that always gave you a hard time? Gone.
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was your biggest fan, always showing up to watch your cheerleading practices.  Manspreading on the benches, her gaze never left you, not daring to miss a single move. The sight of you, all sweaty with wisps of hair escaping your ponytail, only made you look cuter in her eyes. She loved seeing you in that little cheerleader uniform. Whenever you smiled and glanced at her, her heart would thunder in her chest. It was as if her whole world revolved around those fleeting glances and spontaneous smiles you’d throw her way. You were awfully adorable.
What Ellie found far less adorable was how the head cheerleader constantly picked on you, always putting you down. What frustrated her even more was that you just let it happen. In her mind, Amanda wasn’t better than you—no one could even come close to you. To Ellie, you were perfect, and she wished you could see it too. When she saw you walking toward her, she quickly set aside the leather-bound journal she had been scribbling in, placing it on the empty spot next to her as she greeted you with a warm smile.
“You’re doing great, beautiful,” She turned to grab her backpack, which had been thrown carelessly on the empty benches behind her. Her tattooed arm reached inside the already unzipped, worn-out bag. “Yeah, you say that, like, every single time.” You sat on the bench next to her, sweat beading on your forehead as you let out a slight huff, feeling winded after your practice. “‘s true though.” She pulled out a small towel and handed it to you with a gentle smile. She was always considerate, constantly looking out for you and ensuring you were taken care of. She expressed her love for you through these little gestures, like bringing things she thought you might need in her green backpack. Her obsession with you was apparent in how she hovered over you, but you couldn't deny that it was comforting to have someone care for you so deeply. That was love—real love—and you had never experienced that from anyone else.
“Goood, you’re so perfect,” you accepted the towel from her outstretched hand and began to pat your forehead, feeling some relief from the heat. But a little towel wasn’t the only thing she brought for you—she also handed you a refreshing bottle of water to quench your thirst and a cherry-flavored lollipop as a little treat. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of that beloved childhood candy in your hand. A soft smile spread across her lips when your words reached her ears, and she looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. Her shoulders lifted ever so slightly in a subtle shrug, “Oh, I know” her elbows propped up on her knees as she leaned forward. She was deep in thought, and her hands were intertwined. You took a few sips of your water and unwrapped a lollipop, both of you fell silent, completely focused on watching Amanda, who was the target of Ellie's intense gaze, she was studying her. “She’s a bitch” the freckled girl next to you muttered under her breath. You hummed in agreement, savoring the sugary goodness. “Why do you even let her speak to you that way?” she shook her head in disapproval, you could feel her gaze on you even if you weren't looking at her. “What do you want me to do? She’s the leader, El. She���ll throw me out of the team if I confront her.” You reached up to your mouth and pulled the lollipop out with a loud smack noise, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. Ellie expressed her disagreement with a small scoff that barely registered on her plump lips, almost imperceptible. She picked up her journal once again and resumed whatever she was doing, and the silence between the two of you fell once again, punctuated only by the sound of the pencil scratching across the page. When you looked down at her journal, you couldn’t help but notice a drawing she was making of Amanda. The drawing portrayed Amanda in a rather disturbing manner, physically harmed with a knife in her chest. The details of the drawing were quite graphic, and you could tell she had put a lot of effort and passion into it. “Oh, well...that's detailed,” you commented, still sucking on your lollipop, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed a small curl of her lips as if she felt proud of her drawing skills. “But that’d be too messy,” you added, her head shot up to look at you. “Yeah? How would you do it then?” she asked, almost challenging you to come up with a better idea for the hypothetical scenario. “The bitch’s allergic to almonds,” Your eyes were fixed on Amanda, who was laughing with her friend. Ellie raised her brows at you, an amused smile appearing on her lips. “That’s it? A good ol’ accidental allergy reaction? Where’s the fun in that?” you shrugged at her words. “No blood, no traces, it’d be harder to get caught,” you explained, proving your point. It was logical and more calculative than her hypothesis. “True but stabbing her to death seems funnier, I dunno.” She inhaled deeply, leaning back into her bench, her back pressed on the benches behind her. “Hearing them beg for mercy, scream in pain, and the look in their eyes…” She went on, entirely absorbed in her twisted narration. As she spoke, the details grew darker and more grotesque with each word. You watched her, bewildered, struggling to tell if this was still just a “what if” game. When Ellie finally realized you hadn’t responded, she looked over at you—the familiar warmth in her eyes had drained away, leaving something sharper, emptier, a chill that made you feel as though you were staring into someone else entirely.
“And where would you hide the body?” you asked.
She smiled sadistically, almost as if she already had an answer ready for that question. “I know the perfect place for that kind of thing.” she put down her journal, her emeralds back on you as she told you about the place she had in mind. “No one would ever look there,” You agreed, giving her a nod, the cherry taste of the candy lingering as you let the sweetness melt off your tongue, an amused grin playing at the corners of your mouth. The plan was actually well-thought-out—impressively so.
“I told you,” she said softly, her gaze darted between your lips and the lollipop. “Oh? Want some?” you teased, holding the lollipop just a breath away from her. Slowly, you edged the glistening, saliva-coated candy toward her, and she parted her lips, wrapping them around it, savoring the artificial cherry taste with a quiet hum of satisfaction. Her fingers replaced yours on the stick, her fingertips brushing lightly over yours, lingering just a little too long. She held your gaze, her eyes softened, almost entranced, though the depth of that look was something you couldn’t quite place. In reality, she was gazing at you enamored, her pupils wide open, but you were completely oblivious to her feelings and failed to pick up on her infatuation. Shortly after that day, Amanda was gone. Disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be found. You knew it wasn’t adding up, especially when you asked Ellie about it. She’d be so nonchalant, like she had nothing to do with her it. But you knew she was lying. Did you care about that stupid cunt being gone? Absolutely not. You soon became the leader of the cheerleaders, and everyone looked up to you.
˳·˖𖤐 The girl who was grinding on you at Daniel’s party? Found dead the morning after.
˳·˖𖤐 The first few months of college had set in, and you were already drowning in a sea of assignments and deadlines, feeling overwhelmed and stressed out. To stay close to you, Ellie took the bold step of enrolling in the same college as you. She even went as far as to choose the same major─Psychology─just to be in the same classes as you, ensuring that you both had the same schedule, did the same assignments, and even hung out with the same people. 
˳·˖𖤐 It was ironic, really, how someone as anti-social and apathetic as her would pursue a field that involved studying human behavior and emotions. But she did it anyway because the mere thought of being away from you for even a second was unbearable to her. She didn’t want anyone else to get closer to you or share the dorm with you, so she followed you and moved in with you because no one could take care of you better than her. You both decided to get an apartment together to share the bills and responsibilities of living independently. Your parents were more than willing to support you financially, making sure that you had everything you needed for college and the apartment. You were attached by the hip, and wherever you went, she was there with you, and whenever she wasn't, you became nervous and anxious, wondering what she was doing and if everything was okay. It was as if you had become too dependent on her, and the thought of being alone scared you. But the dependency was mutual; she needed you just as much as you needed her.
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was not a fan of parties and preferred staying home, indulging in horror movies while getting high with you. However, when you told her about Daniel’s Halloween party, she knew she had to accompany you to ensure your safety and protect you from any potential creeps. You had been eagerly waiting for Halloween, your favorite holiday, and Ellie didn't want you to miss the opportunity to dress up and have a good time. Despite her initial reluctance, she was somewhat excited, not for the party itself but because she finally had a reason to wear the ghostface costume that had been sitting in her closet, untouched and unused. 
Ellie was already ready, her costume simple but somehow annoyingly perfect—but that was the price that came with being effortlessly beautiful—and her Ghostface mask thrown lazily on her shoulder. She stood at the bathroom entrance, arms crossed, eyes unwavering as they followed you. You slipped into the tight black dress, pulling it into place with a little struggle as it hugged every curve. You, on the other side, loved taking care of every little detail of your makeup and costume, ensuring your appearance was always on point. “I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath, brow furrowed, though her gaze was anything but annoyed as it lingered on your body. With her hip pressed against the doorframe, she watched as you adjusted the neckline, her head tilted to the side, eyes scrutinizing each inch of skin exposed. “Why’d you have to pick something so revealing?” she asked, voice low, almost a grumble. You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s Halloween, Ellie,” you huffed out, “I can wear whatever I want. Don't be such a buzz kill.” “I meant for Halloween parties. Last year, you were that damn sexy nurse. This year, it’s a tight dress. What’s next? A slutty bunny?” the freckled girl quipped, her lips curling up into a wry smile as she raised an eyebrow at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a light chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the small bathroom. “And you’re here complaining,” you retorted with a mischievous grin as you reached for your high heels and effortlessly slid your feet into them. You took a few confident steps towards her, giving her a complete view of your stylish outfit. Her eyes roamed up and down your body. Your dress hugged every curve, revealing just enough skin to accentuate her drool. She licked her lips, imagining what she could do with you in that skimpy outfit, but she had to keep her hands to herself, unfortunately.  “You look fucking amazing.” 
You gave her a soft smile, turning toward the mirror and reaching for your makeup bag on the countertop. “Just need to fix my makeup, and we’re all set,” you informed her, pulling out your favorite berry pink gloss and a tube of mascara, both essentials for tonight. Ellie let out a low chuckle from the doorway, fingers tapping lazily on the frame. “You’re gonna make me want to commit murder tonight,” she joked, eyes flicking over you as you leaned in closer to the mirror. Without looking away from your reflection, you rolled your eyes, your long lashes nearly brushing against your brows. “Oh, shut up. You’ll survive,” you replied, carefully gliding the gloss over your lips. She sighed, tipping her head back against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why we’re even going. It’s gonna be full of drunk assholes, all crowding around like moths.” “C’mon, El, it’s gonna be fun,” you insisted, catching her eye in the mirror. She rolled her eyes, exhaling dramatically. “Oh, yeah, can’t wait to watch people hitting on you,” she drawled, her voice heavy with sarcasm. You snorted, giving her a smirk as you grabbed your mascara. “Well, thank God I’ll have you by my side, scaring them all away.” “Damn right,” she shot back, and you both chuckled. Finishing up, you turned on your heels to face her, your eyes locking with hers. The two of you were only inches apart now, close enough to share each unspoken word in the air between you. “So, what do you think? How do I look?” you questioned, seeking her approval, though you knew the answer already. Ellie’s gaze drifted over you, her lips twitching into a scoff. “You already know you look hot,” she murmured, unable to hide a small smirk. She seemed momentarily lost as she looked at you, her green eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes, drawn in despite herself. You felt a pulse of satisfaction at her reaction, the way her attention lingered on you. “Ellie…” you murmured, leaning a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. She licked her lips almost instinctively, her gaze dropping to your glossy ones, and the air between you grew thick, the energy snapping with tension. “...Yeah?” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her breath hitched as you inched closer before coming to a halt. You smirked, tipping your head to the side. “Can I be your helpless victim?” you teased, catching her off guard with the unexpected line. Ellie’s face contorted into one of confused disbelief, and before you could hold it back, laughter escaped you at her expression. In response, she gave your shoulder a playful shove, rolling her eyes as she fought a smile. “Fuck you,” she groaned, a hint of laughter in her voice, and she ducked out of the bathroom, completely flustered, leaving you grinning after her.
When you arrived at the party, your best friend was glued to your side. She didn’t want you to be alone for even a moment, telling you that she’d stay sober to keep an eye on you in case you decided to drink. However, despite her best efforts, she lost track of you for just a few minutes. When she finally found you, she swore she felt her whole organs sink. You were dancing with a girl. Everything seemed to slow down, and jealousy and pure rage quickly built up inside her as she registered that girl’s hands guiding your hips as she ground on your ass and her lips devoured your neck. When your gaze met hers, you couldn’t help but notice the striking green color of her eyes had turned into an intense, almost ominous shade. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and you could feel a sense of discomfort creeping up on you. It was like you had crossed an invisible line and were now doing something you shouldn’t do. Almost instinctively, you pushed the girl off of you, and before you could give the drunken girl an explanation, Ellie was already walking toward you.
“We’re going back home,” She spoke with a harsh, demanding tone. She grabbed your wrist tightly and forcefully pulled you away from the girl you were dancing with. You didn't even have a chance to say goodbye or explain the situation as she dragged you away.
“Why are you acting like this? Can’t I make friends?” Your words were slightly slurred, the tipsiness settling in as you tried to pull your wrist from her grip, but Ellie’s hold was firm. You didn’t want to leave the party yet; the night had just started and had been so much fun, and her urgency to get you out only made disappointment grow. The music and chatter gradually faded as she dragged you both toward the exit.
“Didn’t look like a friend to me,” she muttered, voice sharp with an edge that cut through your drunk haze. “Looked more like she wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone—in front of me.” She cast a glance back at the party, the girl long gone already. “Besides,” she added, “—you have me. I don’t see why you need her.” There was an ache in her tone as if she felt betrayed by your actions, a hidden desperation she was trying to keep under wraps. Couldn’t you see? She was right there, ready to be everything you needed, the one person who knew you better than anyone else. You narrowed your eyes, pushing her, testing her. “So what if she did want to fuck me? What are you, my girlfriend?” The words came out in a perfectly thought-out taunt to poke the emotions she preferred to keep hidden under the surface. You couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it too—what it would be like to actually be with her. Her green eyes darkened, shifting from their usual warmth to something intense and possessive, jealousy sparking in the depths. It was rare for you both to argue, but this time it felt like there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface, something that had been sitting there gathering dust, waiting for the right moment to bubble out like scorching lava. There was a palpable tension in the air, more-than-friendly feelings in your eyes. Even a fool would’ve been able to see the unspoken feelings and desires that neither of you could express aloud. Perhaps it was the fear of rejection or the uncertainty of how the other person felt kept you both from taking that step. “I just don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.” She lied, her words sharp, unyielding, and tone laced with frustration and anger. That wasn’t a complete lie, but it was still not the whole truth. She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself down. Gradually, her tense body relaxed, and her previously sharp tone softened. “You’re all I have.” As she spoke again, her eyes, which had been stern, took on a gentler expression, and you could sense vulnerability in her voice, suddenly yearning for ‘reassurance’. “I’m sorry for being rough. It’s just… seeing anyone else with you just… fuck, I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.”  Ellie wanted you to believe she was reacting out of fear because she didn’t want to lose you. But her motives were more complex than that. While it was true that she was afraid of losing you, her actions were purely driven by a sense of selfishness. She strongly believed that you were meant to be together and that it was only a matter of time until you realized she was the one for you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one could ever replace you, and I hope you know that.” With a gentle tug of her costume, you pulled her close. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, and you could feel the weight of her body press against yours as she leaned into you. As you held her, you could feel the tension slowly start to melt away, replaced by a familiar sense of safety that usually came with being in her arms. “No, you’re right. I’m not your girlfriend, you can do whatever you want—fuck whoever you want.” Her voice quivered with hesitation, and her heart felt like it was weighed down by a heavy burden. She almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything, the words tasting sour on her tongue. She knew it wasn’t normal to be so possessive of your best friend, no one acted this way toward their friends. So what was she supposed to do? Lock you up in a glass cage and never let you go? Although the idea was tempting she knew she had to set you free─free enough to find someone at least, even if it felt extremely wrong. What were the chances it would last?
˳·˖𖤐 Despite her promise to let you go, to let you be with whoever you wanted, the girl you’d danced with that night was found dead the following day, her body left in a state so brutal it was as if every ounce of someone’s anger had been carved into her. The pieces didn’t quite fit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront it—not yet. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, a horrible coincidence.
˳·˖𖤐 And yet, every time the news flashed across the screen or a passing conversation brought it up, her casual comments made your blood run cold.
“Oh, what a shame,” she’d murmur, not a hint of genuine sympathy in her tone.  “Guess this is what happens when you hoe around,” she’d remark, her voice steady, an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting her lips. “Hm… sucks. ‘s not even her best picture,” she’d add, a detached sort of amusement glinting in her eyes.
˳·˖𖤐 When you tried to confront her and ask questions that had been gnawing at your mind, her responses were so calm—too calm, too controlled. Her voice was smooth as she answered, almost as if rehearsed as she tried to make you feel ridiculous for even asking.
“I was with you last night. What are you implying?” she’d say, her tone just soft enough to make you question yourself. “You sound crazy right now,” she’d whisper, eyebrows raised in concern. “Maybe all these murders going on are messing with your head.”
With every word, she seemed to pull you deeper into self-doubt, her gaze softening, her voice laced with an almost painful sweetness. “Are you listening to yourself right now? I love you, but… you’re scaring me. You’re being paranoid.”
˳·˖𖤐 Her words lingered, a shadow in your mind until you couldn’t tell if it was your sanity or hers that was starting to slip.
˳·˖𖤐 The third person to disappear into thin air was your boyfriend.
˳·˖𖤐 Shortly after that heated argument with your best friend, you got into your first relationship. She gave you a little more freedom to talk to people, to socialize, but her jealousy flared whenever she saw you with him—or anyone else, for that matter.
God, why him? she’d ask herself, the question gnawing at her each time she saw the two of you together. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, his style was awful, and, to her, he wasn’t even remotely attractive. Whenever he was around, she’d mock him or throw out casual, biting jokes. She always seemed to be the only one laughing. Strangely enough, her snide remarks never fazed him—he never seemed intimidated by her like other guys who quickly fell away, discouraged or unnerved after a few seconds of her scrutiny. But not him. He stuck around, seemingly immune to her attempts to chase him off. So she took care of him. You were left with nothing but a single message, his name lighting up your screen in a sudden, unexpected end. He said he had to break things off because he was moving out of town, needing a “clean break,” a “fresh start.” The words felt hollow, calculated, and as you read through the message, your emotions twisted—hurt, anger, betrayal, all swirling within you. It was your first relationship, and he had chosen to end it over a text message without any explanation or warning. You felt like you meant nothing to him, and the fact that he disappeared from your life without as much as a goodbye added insult to injury. You were upset, not because you were particularly in love with him, but because you hated the feeling of being rejected. You had always been in control, the one rejecting people, so it was a blow to your ego to be on the receiving end of a breakup. 
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie, of course, had been there for you, providing support and care during this difficult time. She had to be here, because what kind of friend would she be if she wasn't there for you for something she had caused?
She squeezed you tighter, those strong, toned arms wrapping around you with an unbreakable and relentless grip. Her breath was hot on your neck as she murmured against your ear, lips grazing your skin with a smug smirk. “I told you this would happen,” she’d mutter, words slipping out with that intoxicating blend of annoyance and affection. She’d let her slender, cold fingers trace your spine in a way that left a shiver behind, and her hand would possessively rest on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “No one—no one will ever love you like I do. No one knows you like this. He could never do what I can.” “You should’ve known better, angel.” There was a dark satisfaction in her voice, almost sounding like she was taunting you, leaning in just close enough for you to feel the heat of every word against your flesh. “Told you he wasn’t the one for you, baby girl.” 
˳·˖𖤐 Not only did Ellie ensure that your boyfriend would never come anywhere near you, but now she seemed to be spending more time than ever clinging close to you, cuddling with you, and sharing the bed with you—all under the guise of offering you comfort. 
˳·˖𖤐 Your friendship had always been intense and boundaryless, it had never been anything but healthy. And it had always been increasingly clear to anyone looking in from the outside that your relationship was more than platonic. Ellie had always been obsessed with you, and her love for you had bordered on devotion. But while others could see this, you remained oblivious to her true feelings, always wondering if she liked you back.
˳·˖𖤐 And that’s when things started to change. Maybe it was the fact that you now lived together and got to spend every second with each other, or maybe it was the fact that your stupid boyfriend was out of the picture─you weren’t sure, but you didn’t mind, and neither did she. Slowly, it was back to just you and her again. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and there were no other distractions. It was just the two of you like it always used to be.
You were leaning back on the couch, a joint held between your lips, your eyes heavy and red as you focused on the big TV in front of you. It was Friday night, a time when everyone else would usually go out, but for you, it only meant one thing: movie night with Ellie. The living room was dark, except for the light cast from the TV, making your faces glow in the darkness. You let out a throaty chuckle, taking another hit before sinking deeper into the couch and passing the joint back to her. You were rambling about random stuff as the movie went on, just filling in the background noise at first. Neither of you was really focused on the movie, too high to pay attention to what was happening on the screen. Your mind was wandering to other places, and it was easy to lose track of the scenes as they unfolded.  But then, a steamy scene suddenly caught both of your attention. You could feel the heat rising from the joint and maybe something else; the smoke filling your lungs and a fuzzy feeling spread throughout your body, filling you with a sense of relaxation and mellow contentment. But there was still a tiny fluttering sensation in your stomach, even though you knew it shouldn't be there. It was a strange feeling, like a soft and unexpected rush of excitement, and it made you feel both giddy and nervous all at once. As you watched the steamy scene playing out in front of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of Ellie licking her chapped and dry lips, her green, dilated eyes fixed like a laser on the screen. Her breathing was slightly faster, and you could feel her body tense up as she watched the scene. She didn’t take her eyes off the screen for a second, as if her life depended on watching it. “Y’know, you were my gay awakening,” she spoke suddenly, her husky voice breaking the silence and snapping you to attention. She stared at you, her eyes lingering on every part of your body before settling back on your face. It was a bold confession, coming out of nowhere, and suddenly, you felt your heart beating faster. A dry chuckle slipped out of you, catching in your throat. Even though you were high and a little out of control, her admission had you feeling speechless. “Is that so?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, trying to wet it as your throat suddenly felt parched and your pulse thrummed in your ears, hard and loud. “Hmmm-mmmh,” she hummed lazily in response, sounding almost like a low purr in your ear. Her hand rested on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, her touch delicate but firm. Heat pooled in your stomach almost instantly. “Always thinking of you when I touch myself.” “Show me.” You challenged her with a sultry tone.   Ellie scoffed, her scarred auburn brows lifting in disbelief. Had she heard you right? She swore she was hallucinating. “What?” “You heard me. Touch yourself,” you commanded, your voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. The corners of your lips lifted into a smirk, the confidence in your gaze obvious.
“And you’re just gonna sit there and stare like a creep?” She shook her head slowly, an amused smile on her face as if she wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously. But the soft chuckle and the way her eyes stayed locked on yours hinted that she was not entirely opposed to the idea. “Maybe, maybe not.” You shifted on the couch, turning fully to face her, now closer than ever. Practically in her space, watching her, you could almost feel her heart about to explode. Those little pajama shorts you had on had her captivated. Her eyes kept slipping down, caught on how tightly they hugged your curves, tracing every inch of your legs and hips. She tried to keep her gaze on your face, but it was impossible to stop glancing lower.  “If you do it, I’ll do it too,” you added, your voice dripping with temptation as her silence stretched out. And with that, something in her snapped, a fuse blowing in her mind until the only thing left was pure, raw need. No hesitation, no questions—just her fingers reaching into her waistband, spurred on by that hungry look in your eyes. You both sat there, legs spread, your hands slipping inside your panties, each of you putting on a show for the other.   Ellie’s breath hitched, and her fingers moved with fervor, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how her parted lips let out shallow breaths, quiet gasps escaping as her hand worked. She moved with purpose, fingers gliding through her wetness, quickening her pace to get you to keep up.  “Do what I do,” she groaned, her voice low and rough. You obliged, your fingers following her frantic rhythm.  “Fuck, Ellie,” you moaned, biting back the whimper that her every move pulled out of you. 
She didn’t miss a thing, loving how you trembled and squirmed under her gaze, your body aching, practically begging. Her wildest fantasies were unfolding right in front of her, and she was greedy, wanting every sound, every gasp, every moan.   “You like that, yeah?” she rasped, her voice so rough it made your walls clench. The empty ache inside you was unbearable, your fingers slippery and soaked as you followed her every twist and stroke. You nodded, desperate, moans spilling out without restraint, each one making her move even faster. The sight of her, her touch, her ragged breaths was dizzying. She wanted to own every second, to make you crave her as much as she craved you. Your needy voice rang out, soft and breathy, “Mmmhh… need more, El.” You sounded so desperate, so whiny, it made her heart race. You were just so fucking pretty, and she couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to have her fingers inside you, feeling every desperate pulse, every needy clench around her as you milked her fingers deliciously. Before she could even process the thought, you slid your other hand down, sinking two fingers past your folds with a soft sigh, filling yourself as deep as you could.  The sight made her breath hitch, a low moan slipping out as she watched, knowing that this image would be carved into her brain forever. She could already feel herself getting off to the thought of this moment, over and over again. Your fingers moved in sync, one hand teasing and torturing your clit while the other pumped inside, stroking that perfect spot that made your thighs tense and shiver. Ellie watched, her brows knitted, barely able to tear her eyes away from your sadly still-covered cunt. “God,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she took in every pretty little expression, every sound slipping from your lips as you finger-fucked yourself. She was beyond turned on, completely mesmerized by how good you looked, and couldn’t hold back any longer. With her hand still buried in her boy shorts, she flicked her clit faster, fingers rubbing in desperate, frantic messy circles as she got swept up in the sight of you. “So fuckin’ needy,” she taunted, her voice low and hoarse.
“Gonna...g’na cum,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut, breaths coming out in short, shaky bursts. In a move that sent a shiver down your spine, Ellie reached out and gently tugged your hand away from your shorts, intertwining her fingers with yours.  “Me too—wanna cum with you, need you close,” she gasped, her words breaking into soft moans as her own high built. She squeezed your hand tight, needing the contact as her hips jerked up, chasing her release. Your other hand kept moving, your fingers hitting that perfect, spongy spot again and again until— “I’m coming!” you cried out, your moans reaching a pitch that filled the room, echoing through the walls, your fingers slamming into yourself as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you. 
“Ooooh fuck!” Ellie groaned, her hips bucking as she rubbed herself faster, her hand squeezing yours hard as she climaxed, her voice hoarse and breathless. 
You sat there, chests heaving, bodies still trembling in the aftermath, catching your breaths in silence as the euphoria slowly faded. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, gradually, reality seeped back in as you both glanced at each other, feeling completely blissful. Her lips pulled into a soft smile, cheeks flushed as her thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand.
Feeling a rush of warmth, you leaned back, wiping your fingers on the soft fabric of your pajama shorts, a quiet contentment settling over you. Ellie tugged gently at your tank top, silently inviting you to come closer. You obliged, sinking into her embrace as she wrapped her arms around you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering in her dazed, dreamy voice about how perfect the moment had been, dropping little words of affection she’d usually never say out loud. With the weed still buzzing in her system, it all slipped out way too easily.
You drifted off in her arms, her warmth and steady breaths lulling you to sleep as the TV murmured softly in the background.
˳·˖𖤐 It was as though her infatuation with you intensified after that night, if that was even possible. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, and her focus on every little detail of your appearance became more and more pronounced. You were all she could draw, your lips, your nose, your brows, your eyes. She was convinced that she was the only one who truly appreciated your beauty. She believed that everyone else was too superficial to appreciate you for who you really were. To her, no one else deserved you─not like she did. You were the center of her world, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were like a drug to her, and she craved you more than anything else, her mind was consumed with thoughts of you.
˳·˖𖤐 There was this sick habit of hers, one that she’d never admit out loud but couldn’t shake. Every night, she watched you as you slept, eyes glued to how your oversized shirt barely hung onto your curves. It was like she was waiting—no, hoping—for that shirt to ride up just a little bit more, enough to give her a full view of those soft legs and the tiny slip of fabric that barely covered you. 
You always seemed so relaxed, so at ease around her, never thinking twice about what you wore, especially when you two shared a bed. You’d just crawl under the covers, no pants, no bra, just that soft, baggy shirt. And every time, it drove her wild. Part of her wondered if you knew exactly what you were doing, the way you’d stretch and twist, giving her those little glimpses that made her pulse race—and to answer her silent dilemma, yes, you were doing it on purpose.  She couldn’t look away. Her hand would slip under her waistband, touching herself as her eyes roamed over you, desperate for more than just a view. She couldn’t resist ever since she admitted she’d been touching herself to the thought of you for as long as she could remember.  Even you could feel the tension every time her eyes lingered on your body or lips. Every time she shifted closer, her fingers grazing your thigh just a little too long just to pull away again, chickening out. All you wanted was for her to close that painful gap, to stop playing around and just touch you the way you knew she wanted to. Every night was a silent invitation, a wordless game where every move you made was another way to get her attention, pushing her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ellie licked her lips, her eyes glued to the sight beside her. Watching you sleep like this always turned her on─it was the combination of ‘innocence’, vulnerability, and sheer beauty that did it. The slight roll of your shirt had exposed just enough skin to make her heart race, her mind filled with naughty thoughts. You were never aware of how much she wanted to feel you and touch you inappropriately, but she knew it might ruin your friendship, and she couldn’t risk it.  Feeling her arousal increasing with every passing second, she slipped her hand under the covers. She knew it was wrong; she shouldn't be doing this while you were asleep next to her, sleeping peacefully as she came all over her fingers at the sight of your half-exposed body─but that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. The temptation was too strong, and it was impossible to resist you. “Fuck... You’re killing me…” she thought to herself, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was late at night, and she couldn't resist anymore.
Without hesitation, she slid her hand into her shorts and started playing with herself. Her green, concentrated eyes never left your body, studying every curve and dip hungrily. Calloused fingers brushed against her sensitive nub gently, her hips slightly jerking away from her hand. She was so sensitive; you had her pussy throbbing like crazy, and the worst part was that you didn’t even do shit. It was her fault, her perverted and filthy mind's fault. But good lord, if she would sell all her organs to touch you. “The fuck are you doin’ to me…” she murmured under her breath as she played with her wetness, feeling how messy you made her. When her fingers returned to her clit, circling it gently, her breath hitched. She knew she had to be quiet; you were occasionally a light sleeper, and she couldn't risk getting caught. She parted her legs further apart as she kept teasing her clit slowly. “God…” She whispered, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps, causing her voice to be soft and sultry as she rubbed herself with increasing tempo. There was no hesitation or inhibition, just raw, unadulterated desire dripping from every fiber of her being. So fucking nasty. She wondered what your reaction would be if you woke up and caught her in the act, but, yet again, there was something exhilarating about the risk, about the idea of you seeing her in the middle of her filthy act. Her face flushed as she imagined this, her mind filled with naughty scenarios as she rubbed herself harder and faster.  “Mmph... so beautiful…” Her eyes never left your body, even while touching herself. For some reason, it felt so good knowing you were just inches away, unaware of what she was doing. She couldn't help but fantasize about you pleasing her—she needed your fingers, you, and she also fantasized about reciprocating the favor.  “Can't wait to taste you... touch you…” She mumbled, lost in her fantasies. Her body trembled slightly from anticipation, she was close. “Mmm... fuck... gonna cum” Her voice was strained, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit. It was becoming challenging to stay quiet, and she just hoped you wouldn't wake up to this.
When she did come, she pulled her damp and sticky hand out of her boxers, sucking her fingers clean before turning her head slightly to look at you, admire you. You laid there sleeping like an angel, your hair cascading down your face. She watched you with mixed emotions. 
Ellie’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed, and her forehead was damp with sweat, her red-brown hair sticking to her freckled lush skin. Despite the guilt she knew she should be feeling, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again, but deep down, she knew it was merely the first of many more. 
˳·˖𖤐 The more she did it, the more confident and bold she became, convinced that you’d never catch her.
˳·˖𖤐 One night, you had a bit too much soda before falling asleep. As the night wore on, you began to slowly wake up, feeling the urge to go to the bathroom.
She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice the slight shift beside her. Your eyes fluttered open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of her hand moving under the covers. Her pale face was flushed, a blush covered her cheeks and her cute nose, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes tightly shut, trying to keep herself quiet, while her tattooed arm was stuffed deep inside her boxers. Her toned abs tensed up subtly as her perky tits peeked through her black t-shirt, jiggling with every tiny movement she made. Fuck, what a sight. You thought you were dreaming. Hell, you were sure of it. Why would she even do that next to you? You knew you should’ve done or said something, but the sight of your best friend pleasuring herself right beside you only made your pussy throb madly, and the way she dirty-talked to herself to make herself cum. God.
You squeezed your thighs together, pretending to be asleep. Her soft moans made you feel indescribable things, and you felt yourself getting increasingly wet; it felt like torture to lay there and pretend to be asleep while she pleasured herself like that, but at the same time, it was addictive.  So, instead of confronting her, you decided to play along. Wearing slutty thongs to bed became your new routine, and of course, it didn’t take Ellie too long to notice. Some nights, you could feel her lifting your beloved oversized shirt up just a bit to take a better look at your body. It was hard to suppress a smile, but you managed.
“A fucking thong, really? God.” you could hear her mutter quietly.
She’d mumble random shit like, “Wanna fuck you real bad,” when she was close to her orgasm. 
You’d often shift a bit too close to her to make her freak out, interrupting her imminent orgasm. It was entertaining hearing her panic and freeze. The little sigh of relief she'd let out when she looked over you to make sure you were ‘sleeping’ was even cuter to you.
˳·˖𖤐 One day, while doing the laundry, your eyes caught a flash of red fabric peeking out of her sweatpants, tucked deep inside the pocket. A brief moment of recognition made you realize it was your thong, one that you had lost long ago. And you remembered vividly how you had always wondered where it had gone. You knew Ellie had something to do with it—indeed, you were not wrong. “Perv,” you let out a breathy chuckle as you withdrew the thong from her pocket and tossed it inside the washing machine. 
˳·˖𖤐 Though you couldn’t say shit. You weren’t really in a position to, not when you had stolen her boxers—the very ones she had made a mess of the other night, getting off to your ‘innocent’ form in that thong, all sprawled out for her eyes only. Unlike her, you had tucked it away, ensuring she’d never find it—in your bottom drawer, buried beneath a pile of neatly folded clothes.
˳·˖𖤐 Everything had been rainbows and roses since your boyfriend was out of the picture, leaving Ellie with you all to herself, just as she liked it. She’d half-expected this wouldn’t last forever, but she didn’t think it would unravel so soon, too soon.
After your shower, wrapped only in a towel, you realized you’d forgotten to grab fresh clothes. Too lazy to trek back to your room, you decided Ellie’s closet would do just fine. “El! I’m borrowing your clothes!” you called out, already swinging open her closet door without waiting for a response. The woody, warm scent of her filled the small space, mingling with the crisp smell of laundry detergent.
Your gaze drifted downward, catching on a gym bag lying half-zipped. The black fabric looked dull under the dim light, but something about it drew you in. There were dark stains on the shirt peeking out—a rusted, dried red that had you swallowing hard. Right next to it sat a Ghostface mask, its hollow, grinning face staring up at you, taunting you, like it knew something you didn’t. 
Just then, Ellie’s voice cut through the silence, a little too rushed, a little too panicked. “Wait, I’ll get it for you!” You heard her footsteps nearing, but by the time she appeared in the doorway, you were already crouched down, inspecting the items, your fingers clutching your boyfriend’s shirt—now stiff with dried blood—and a stained knife in the other.
She froze, her already pale face drained of color as your eyes met. She didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to explain or reach out. She simply stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for you to make the first move.
“What the fuck?” you choked out, anger tangling in your throat. Your voice cracked, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Why do you have this, Ellie?!” The words were sharp, edged with accusation, and your fingers tightened around the shirt, clinging to the blood-soaked fabric like it was proof of a reality she couldn’t deny. 
Ellie flinched, cursing herself for not getting rid of that piece of evidence. Maybe it was the procrastination, or perhaps she was just too wrapped up in you—you had that effect on her. Her expression flickered between panic and something else, something guarded, as if she were mentally scrambling to find the right lie to feed you.
“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Her voice was low, almost eerily calm, meant to keep you from losing your mind and freaking out even more, but it was doing the opposite. “Sit down. I can explain. I promise.” She inched closer, coaxing you back toward her bed, trying to control the situation, as if talking you down would make all of this disappear. But you stepped away from her, backing toward the closet instead.
“Then fucking explain,” you demanded, your voice rising, heat flooding your cheeks as your pulse hammered. Your eyes trailed down to the Ghostface mask lying on the floor, and you kicked it toward her. “What the hell are you doing with all this shit? With my boyfriend’s shirt?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected you, as if that made a difference in the moment. But she cared enough about it to not hold her tongue. You scoffed in disbelief at her correction, and your stern look only prompted her to keep talking, desperate to answer your question. “I found it in the trash,” she began, her tone too smooth, her words practiced. “I was going to take it to the cops.” But you both knew that was a shitty excuse. The explanation hung in the air, feeble and hollow, cracking under the weight of your inquisitor glare.
“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it,” you spat, tightening your grip on the knife, its sharp tip now aimed right at her. 
“Just sit down, please. I’ll tell you everything.” Her words spilled out, each one more frantic than the last, thick with desperation as she inched closer, hands reaching out like she was steadying herself—or preparing to corner you.
You held your ground, pressing your back into the cold closet door, “No, fuck that!” you snapped, refusing to let her control the moment. Her jaw tightened, and in an instant, she lunged forward, catching your wrist and forcing it up against the wood, pinning the knife-holding hand in place.
“Listen to me!” she growled, her voice growing louder, almost vibrating with a tension that rippled between you, making you quiver. Her face was close, too close, so close that her warm breath hit your face, and her eyes locked onto yours, wild verdants unwavering, staring into your dilated pupils.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” you shouted, fury shaking the air between you as you pulled at her iron-tight grip. But it was useless. You were sick of her lies, of her half-truths. All you truly desired was for her to lay it all bare for you ‘cause you weren’t fucking dumb, and deep down, you knew it. You had known all along. Her grip only tightened, her knuckles turning white against your skin as her breaths came fast. This Ellie was raw, untamed—a far cry from the girl you had around every day. But in this harsh intensity, there was something real, something you’d been craving for.
“You wanna know the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, each word bitten off, hard enough to make you flinch. She gazed down at the bloodstained shirt sprawled across the floor, her face hardening, “Yeah, that’s his. And yeah, that’s his blood. He deserved what he got.” 
“What the fuck, Ellie, you had no fucking right—” She slammed her other hand against the wooden surface of her closet door, inches away from your head, causing you to cut off your words before they could be fully uttered.
“He was cheating on you!” she interrupted you, her voice rough with anger, her face flushing red. “I saw him, alright? With that girl from the bar—the one you were always paranoid about. I fucking saw him with her. So yeah, I followed him, and things got… out of hand.”
You scanned her face, searching for any hint of regret or guilt, but all you found was a complete lack of remorse, an expression that only seemed to scream she’d do it all over again if she could. But it was exactly that thing in her eyes that pulled you in even more. “Then why not just tell me?” 
Why couldn’t you fear her? Why weren’t you grossed out? Shouldn’t you have had a typical reaction to her revelation, like screaming or crying over the brutal murder of your boyfriend? Instead, here you were, feeling oddly fascinated, giddy even.
“I wanted to,” she admitted, her voice a little raspier, her eyes glistening with what looked like tears—fake ones. The sudden empathy felt odd, something that didn’t belong to her, and you knew her too well for this shit. “But then I saw you, finally free, happy without him dragging you down. I thought I’d done you a favor. And then I just… couldn’t say it.” 
You pressed yourself harder against the closet door, staring at her like you were seeing her for the first time. You shook your head, “You’re lying,” you stated flatly, watching her mask drop.
“What? You think I’d lie?” she shot back, trying to twist the situation, like you were crazy for even suspecting her. But you knew better. Psychology classes were really paying off.
“Yes, Ellie, you’re lying.” you leaned in, and her jaw clenched as you continued. “You did it to Amanda and that girl at the party? You think I don’t remember that night? Just admit it!” You practically yelled, and a shadow passed over her face like an ominous cloud, her expression hardening again, her eyes growing cold, dark in a way that caught you off guard. One thing was for sure—there was a certain beauty in the way her captivating jade orbs effortlessly switched between the deceptive facade and the cold, calculated gaze of a serial killer. 
“Admit what?” her tone was mocking, like she was daring you to say it.
“That you—” The words stuck in your throat, your gaze slipping to the Ghostface mask on the floor. That’s when she ripped the knife out of your hand, her grip firm as she held it close to you, not quite pressing it into your skin, just close enough to see if it’d rattle you.
“C’mon,” she murmured, leaning in with that daring, dark smile, “say it.” Her eyes flashed with an edge of mania like she was enjoying this, feeding off your reactions, like some sick parasite.
“You killed them all.” you managed, voice barely a whisper, and she threw her head back in a laugh that sent chills down your spine.
“God, do you hear yourself? You sound pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, her knife tracing a line along your cheekbone, slow enough to make you shiver, close enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your chest tightened, your heartbeat loud in your ears as her lips curled in that contorted smile. ​​Your breath hitched as she leaned in, her gaze piercing through your irises, capturing every fleck of color.
“What? Gonna kill me now?” you breathed, your words almost taunting, a faint smirk pulling at your lips as her eyes narrowed.
She tilted the knife against your throat but still put no pressure. You felt yourself leaning into it, letting the thrill course through you and that familiar excitement growing in your tummy. “Gonna make me?” she whispered, voice thick and low, and for the briefest moment, her composure cracked—just enough for you to see her desperation, like she was hanging onto a thread. She needed you to stay, even after all this. She couldn’t live without you.
“I just want the truth,” you uttered, your voice soft, never breaking eye contact. And if you did, it was only to let your eyes drop to her lips, she was so tantalizingly close that it was impossible not to. “Drop the mind games. I want the truth.” You didn’t know how the hell you could still want her, adrenaline tangling in your chest, but you did. Maybe even more than before.
Her brows rose in mock surprise as she cocked her head. “You want the truth?” she echoed, lips parting in a cold smirk. “Fine. Yes, I killed your stupid fucking boyfriend. He died like a pussy,” she sneered, anger flashing as she clenched the knife, thinking of his hands on you, touching what had always belonged to her.
“Why?” you whispered, watching her like you were peeling away her layers, seeing her stripped of all pretenses.
“Why do you think?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes like it was obvious.
The words that tumbled from your mouth after her revelation left her almost astonished.
“How’d you kill him?” then, with a morbid fascination you added, “What did it feel like?” your head tilted slightly to the side. 
˳·˖𖤐 The more she went on and on about the macabre details, the more it turned you on. She was taken aback by your enthusiasm and curiosity, the specific questions flowing from your lips with an unsettling calm that she struggled to comprehend. It was almost as if you were savoring every twisted word that came from her. She couldn’t wrap her head around how her dark confessions had led to this moment—both of you naked, with you perched on top of her.
Ellie was gorgeous—way too gorgeous to be a serial killer, or a psychotic person. She was even more gorgeous beneath you, auburn strands of hair splayed across the pillow, messy but not as messy as her dripping pussy. Her breath hitched as your fingers tightened around the handle of her switchblade, the cold metal gliding from her neck down to her chest, drawing lazy white scratches all over her alabaster skin.
A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips as you drew lazy circles around her areolas with the sharp point of the knife, watching with satisfaction as her pink nipples hardened, standing at full attention for you, as hard as rocks and begging to be tortured. You could feel her grow restless beneath you—her hips bucking in a desperate attempt to grind against your pussy, but you lifted yourself ever so slightly, just enough to deprive her of the friction she craved.
“Desperate?” you mocked, your bottom lip jutting out in a cruel pout. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to yours, glazed with lust and frustration, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. A cocky front, even now. But it was just a front, she was so fucking weak for you.
“Yeah,” she rasped, her voice betraying her need, but her eyes showed a glint of defiance. She couldn’t resist trying to fight back. “But you’re dragging this out like a coward.”
You hummed sultrily, letting the blade press just a little harder against her dotty complexion—not enough to cut, but enough to leave faint red marks across her flesh. “Oh, you think you’re in a position to talk back?” you spat, your free hand pinning her wrist above her head as she squirmed. “You’re fucking sick, Ellie.”
“Like you’re any better,” she sneered, though her voice trembled as the tip of the knife traced down her sternum toward her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her sun-spotted skin as her breathing became more erratic, her hips lifting in vain again to seek the friction you kept cruelly out of her reach.
“Not the one going around killing people, am I?” you snorted, the blade now grazing and lingering just below her belly button.
Ellie’s defiance cracked, her voice weaker, more fragile as she muttered, “I did it for you.” it made your heart skip a beat or beat faster—you really couldn’t tell from all that adrenaline clouding your rational thoughts.
“You’re trembling,” you noted with a sly smirk, her cocky grin faltering as the knife inched lower, closer to where she needed you most. Ellie bit her lip hard, a needy whimper slipping through despite her best effort to stifle it.
“I need you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, one hand reaching up to rest on your hip. Her touch sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but lower yourself closer, pressing your body against hers. 
A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, pride swelling in your chest at the sight of her—the usually cold, calculated killer, reduced to this. All because of you. Seeing her this weak for you truly made you want to do the unholiest things to her, things you knew she would never forget about. You tossed the switchblade aside, forgotten as soon as your lips descended on her neck, sucking dark spots on her soft flesh. You let your teeth sink in, biting just hard enough to get a soft sound out of her. The auburnette was so desperate and sensitive that everything seemed to make her moan—every brief touch, every kiss, even your breathing fanning over her skin. She was already half-gone, and you were barely even getting started.
Her skin flushed beneath your lips as you kissed your way down her body, taking your sweet time, savoring each second of her squirming beneath you. Her breaths grew more ragged, her thighs twitching as you moved lower. Ellie’s body was a temple, and right now, it was all yours to worship.
She’d killed for you, it was the least you could do. So, was romance really dead?
˳·˖𖤐 You’d never imagined Ellie would care that much, never thought she’d be capable of that level of obsession. And you didn’t mind it one bit. No, quite the opposite. The realization only made your pussy throb madly, heat pooling between your thighs as your mind replayed her confession over and over like a broken record, focusing on the brutal details she had given you. It wasn’t just the idea of her killing—it was that she did it because of you, because she couldn’t let anyone else have you.
Every single muscle in her body tensed, her legs trembling as you hovered right above her hairy mound. You could see it—the way her wetness coated her folds, her pink clit, swollen and impatient, her pussy practically begging for attention, and it only made you want to tease her more. Your thumb teasingly drew tight, gentle circles on her aching nub, making her whimper almost exaggeratedly.
“Aww, look at you…” you purred, retracting your hand, your voice low, honed in sweet mockery. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. “Soaking wet, desperate for me to touch you. Gonna start begging now?”
Your words made her whine, her resolve crumbling more with each passing second—not that there was any left. Her body betrayed her, hips lifting toward your face, her need palpable. But you weren’t done playing with her yet. You had all night ahead.
Your arms curled around her toned thighs, pulling her closer as you knelt at the edge of the bed, your face mere inches from her pussy. You could see how wet she was, how desperate she had become—there was even a dark wet patch on the sheets beneath her. You smirked up at her, eyes locking with hers as you lowered your mouth to her slick folds. With the tip of your tongue, you spread her moistened lips, and it was enough to make Ellie’s entire body jolt, a choked moan tearing from her throat as you tasted her, her sweet juices coating your lips as you lapped at her with slow, deliberate cat licks.
Ellie’s head fell back against the pillow, her hands gripping your hair with white-knuckled desperation as you ate her out, tongue flicking over her clit every now and then with just enough pressure to drive her mad. You sucked, your lips closing around her swollen bud, and Ellie’s back arched painfully off the bed, her thighs trembling around your head.
“Fuck… fuck…” she gasped, her hoarse voice scratching her already dry throat as her hips bucked uncontrollably and you held her down, refusing to let her squirm away from the relentless onslaught of your mouth.
You smirked against her, the vibrations of your giggle only making her moan louder. “Look at you, El,” you teased, your voice muffled between her thighs. “So sweet ‘n perfect f’me,”
You didn’t wait for a response, diving back in, your tongue swirling around her clit as you slipped two fingers inside her, curling them with brutal precision, finding that sweet spot that had her toes curling, her breath catching in her throat. Her gummy walls clenched around your fingers, and you could feel how close she was, her legs shaking violently.
Ellie’s moans grew louder, more frantic, her hands tugging at your hair hard as she tried to ground herself, grinding against your tongue. But you didn’t slow down—if anything, you fucked her harder, your fingers pumping into her fast and deep, your mouth never abandoning her needy clit, your nose buried in her trimmed bush.
“Beg me,” you commanded as you pulled away to breathe, her core swallowing every inch of your fingers greedily. All those years of plugging her fingers deep inside her wet cunt imagining they were yours instead were so worth the wait.
“I—fuck—” the green-eyed girl’s breath caught, her body shaking uncontrollably, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please… please…” She couldn’t even fucking function; you had reduced her to a broken mess.
“Can’t hear you,” you prompted her, your fingers plunging deeper, harder, until her back arched off the bed, a cry of pure need tearing from her throat.
“Fuck! Please, I need it—I need you—fuck, I’m so close!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as her orgasm crept closer, promising her to see stars, but you weren’t about to give her what she wanted—no, not yet.
You grinned wickedly, pulling your fingers out of her soaked pussy just before she could. A strangled, frustrated sob escaped her plump lips as her body writhed beneath you, her orgasm stolen, leaving her aching and needy.
“Aw, you’re not so smart, are you? You really thought I was going to let you come?” You leaned in, pressing your lips to her ear as you whispered, “Oh no, El… we’re just getting started. You’re not going anywhere.”
˳·˖𖤐 Ellie’s eyes widened with a mixture of frustration and confusion as you told her you’d let her come after you were done using her. You reached for your favorite strap-on, adjusting the harness until it sat snugly around her hips. Her wrists were bound securely to the headboard, the cuffs’ soft, fluffy lining pressing firmly against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as the realization dawned on her, her eyes darting between the toy and your wicked grin. 
Her pupils were blown with lust as she watched you lower yourself onto her, the thick silicone toy sliding in with ease after you’d teased your throbbing bud with its tip. Her hands twitched, desperate to reach out, to touch you, but she couldn’t do much with the handcuffs keeping her wrists locked to the bed, the soft restraints holding her firmly in place. She watched with wide eyes as her cock stretched your needy, wet heat, sliding in and out. At first, your movements were slow and teasing, letting her take in every inch, but it didn’t take long before you picked up the pace, your body already accustomed to its size, moving with a frantic, eager rhythm.
“Fuuuck…” you panted, rolling your hips against the toy, your breath hitching as that familiar feeling built in your stomach. Ellie’s gaze was glued to you—your bouncing tits, your parted lips, the way your body moved smoothly above her. She wanted to touch, to feel you, but all she could do was watch as you used her, as you fucked yourself on the strap like she wasn’t even there. It was cruel, truly. Her body trembled with need as she watched you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure, her pussy throbbing with unmet desire as yours seemed to suck the toy deeper, and for a moment, she swore she could feel your walls tightening around her—perhaps it was the desperation playing a sick joke on her. She couldn’t help but let out a moan.
˳·˖𖤐 She had tried begging but she’d only be met with things such as:
“Cry about it,” you sneered, your voice cold and mocking as you watched her squirm restlessly beneath you.
“You’re such a fucking crybaby,” you murmured, fingers gripping onto her chin and forcing her to look at you as if her desperation was nothing more than a joke to you.
“I’m putting up a whole show for you, and you’re still complaining,” you chuckled darkly, a twisted satisfaction curling at the corners of your mouth as you looked down at her, reveling in her helplessness, your wetness dripping down the harness, making a mess on top of her.
“Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking as she thrusted up. Mewls slipped out of your soft lips as the tip of her silicone cock hit your cervix, desperation written all over her flushed face. “Please let me touch you... let me do something...” Her voice hitched as she choked on a sob, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her glassy eyes locked onto yours, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her pleas. “Fuck, I can’t—” she cried out, voice breaking again, her head tilting back as she tried to hold herself together. Her gaze flickered back up to you, trailing to your chest, lingering there hungrily. Bushy brows furrowed with longing as she licked her chapped lips.
But you weren’t listening. You were too lost in the pleasure of fucking yourself on her, your head thrown back, sobs pouring from your lips as the strap-on hit that perfect spot against your cervix. Your movements grew more frantic, hips slamming down harder, faster, the toy sliding in and out of your slick folds with ease. The wet sounds of your arousal filled her room, mixing with the desperate, needy gasps that escaped Ellie beneath you, her fingers curling into fists as the cuffs dug into her velvety skin, promising bruises she’d feel long after this was over.
Her eyes glazed over, chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched you ride her with reckless abandon. The sight of you, your body glistening with sweat, pretty tits bouncing with every thrust, was too much for her. She was on the edge, teetering, her body aching to release, but you wouldn’t let her. You wouldn’t let her do shit.
Ellie groaned, frustration and lust mixing in her voice as she bucked her hips uselessly beneath you, trying to gain even a fraction of relief from the sight of you fucking yourself senseless. “Please… please, I’m begging you,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse and broken, and god if it nearly made you squirt. “I need it—I need to come, please…”
You smirked down at her, not stopping, your hips grinding harder, riding the strap with everything you had. You leaned down, your breath hot against the shell of her ear as you whispered, “You’re not coming until I say you can. You’re going to sit there and watch me get off, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.” Cruelly pressing damp and sloppy kisses on the column of her neck, kisses that had her gasping pathetically.
˳·˖𖤐 And it went on and on, her eyes locked on the sight of your milky cum dripping down the thick, black strap, each drop making her bite back a groan. She wished she could taste you. Every time she tried to move or squirm too much for your liking, you’d smack her hard across the face, or switch to a new position just to tease her even more, making sure you were giving her the best view. It was only after the fifth—or maybe the sixth—orgasm that you finally uncuffed her.
The moment her wrists were free, she flipped you over, quick as lightning, giving you no time to react. She pinned you beneath her with a mischievous glint in her eyes, you looked up at her, panting and spent, your brows knitting together in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. She just smirked down at you, spreading your trembling legs apart with ease, her grip firm and unyielding.
“Oh fuck, no—” you gasped out, trying to squirm away as she wrapped her hand around the slick toy, guiding it right back to your abused entrance. She knew she could probably come right then, grinding against the back of the strap, but the thought of pushing you past your limits was far more thrilling. 
“You’re not stupid enough to think I’d let you go so easily, right?” she repeated your earlier words, her voice low and dangerous as she lowered herself over you, your sweaty bodies pressing together. “Didn’t you wanna be my helpless victim, babe?”
The redhead pushed in relentlessly, forcing your pulsating walls to swallow every inch, your back arching as she made you hold on just a little longer. Before long, your legs gave out beneath you as she pounded into you from behind, each thrust deep and brutal, your cheek pressed into the soft mattress. Her hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a sharp sting that burned like a bitch. The smacks kept coming, over and over, until your skin was bruised and your body was shaking with overstimulation. “This is for leaving me high and dry,” she hissed, her voice rough with frustration and desire, slapping the same bruised spot again and again, until you knew you’d be sore for days, unable to sit down.
˳·˖𖤐 When it was finally over, the two of you laid tangled together, breathless and sticky. Ellie’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, but a question lingered in her eyes—one that seemed to claw at her even now, despite everything you’d done to show her you weren’t running, that you weren’t disgusted by her nature. You had never been, for the matter, even when you were kids.
“You’re not gonna tell on me, yeah?” she rasped, her voice rough, her grip tightening possessively on your hip while her other hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Her touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting with the weight of her words, like she was scared to hear your answer. It made your heart swell knowing she feared losing you so badly.
But you were so drunk of the overwhelming contentment that you barely registered the tension in her voice. Instead, a sleepy smile tugged at your lips, and you blurted out, “Wanna be my girlfriend?” The question slipped out before you could think, your gaze locked onto her freckled face, admiring every angle and curve, the way the warm dim light softened her expression.
Ellie blinked, caught off guard, before a playful smirk curved her lips. “I am your girlfriend,” she gave your hip a gentle swat that made you chuckle softly, the sound mixing with the quiet hum of the fan.
“Y’know…you’re right,” you mumbled suddenly. Her hand drifted to your back, scratching lightly, soothing you as your body relaxed into hers. You turned your head, meeting her soft eyes again, while something darker flashed in yours. “He fucking deserved what he got,” Your voice was low, carrying a finality that made Ellie’s breath hitch. It was all the reassurance she needed. A wide grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with something almost feral, a giddy kind of joy. It was a smile so genuine, so purely her, that it was impossible to resist leaning in to kiss her, your lips meeting hers in a messy, heated kiss. 
“But yeah, if you leave me I’m gonna tell on you.”
˳·˖𖤐 She had gotten clingier and more eager after that night, always looking for an excuse to touch you, to keep you within reach. Whenever you went somewhere, Ellie trailed right behind you, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave your side. And honestly, you loved it—you thrived on bossing her around, enjoying how she would drop whatever she was doing just to be with you. If the two of you were inseparable as friends before, it had only gotten worse. Not that the obsessive, morbid love wasn’t there before, but now you both let it show, with no boundaries left to be set, no rules, just whatever twisted thing you both had become together.
˳·˖𖤐 Time flew by, and soon Halloween rolled around again, your favorite holiday. Ellie knew it, too, and she didn’t even try to say no when you convinced her to tag along to a party you’d been invited to. It was supposed to be a small, “close friends only” type of thing, but you dragged her with you anyway, making it clear you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Plus, you’d been at each other’s throats lately, bickering more than usual, and she didn’t want to risk making you any angrier. It was either coming along without putting up a fight or dealing with the idea of you going solo—knowing she’d just end up following you like the little creep she was, lurking in the shadows, making sure no one even dared to touch you.
˳·˖𖤐 The party turned out to be better than either of you had expected. A few drinks in, and you both started to loosen up, Ellie sticking close, practically attached to your side with some invisible rope. It was like she couldn’t let you out of her sight, even for a second, her hand always finding its way to your back or waist, keeping you close. You danced together, swaying in the colorful, pulsing lights, your bodies brushing intimately against each other. Her eyes stayed glued to you the whole time, like you were the Holy Mary herself, and she just couldn’t get enough. You reveled in her devotion, the way her grip on your hips would tighten as you moved. It was such a turn-on.
Eventually, the party began to wind down, and it wasn’t long before it was just the two of you left with Allison and her boyfriend, Lucas. The four of you gravitated toward the kitchen, where Ellie leaned against the counter, elbows propped up on the cold granite. She played with the knives, her fingers casually tracing the handles, sliding them in and out of the block absentmindedly.
Allison scrolled through her phone, her brown eyes squinting at the screen’s dim glow. “Another guy went missing,” she announced, her voice wavering as she scanned through the article. “I bet Ghostface has something to do with it.”
“Tragic,” Ellie muttered, her tone devoid of sympathy. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. You watched her, catching the unsettling indifference in her voice. When she noticed your gaze, she raised an eyebrow in mock innocence, daring you to question her. Instead, she shrugged. Allison went on and on about how creepy it was that Ghostface could be literally anyone, her voice holding a mix of fascination and fear. 
“I mean, think about it,” she said, eyes wide as she gestured dramatically. “It could be your neighbor, your friend, even someone you totally trust! Just wearing that mask and knife in hand, ready to strike any moment. It’s so fucked up!” As Allison thought about the countless times she had passed by potential killers, she couldn’t help but shudder in fear at her luck. How many times had she walked down a dark alleyway, taken a walk alone at night, or even trusted the wrong person? The thought of her mortality sent a chill down her spine and made her wonder how long her luck would hold out.
“Yeah, it’s scary,” you hummed, but then the conversation shifted back to the guy who had gone missing. 
“You’ve got to be dumb to get killed like that, though,” Ellie scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Came all the way from Michigan just to end up dead? Pathetic. Guess all those muscles didn’t help much.”
Allison frowned at Ellie’s lack of empathy, but she shrugged it off, scrolling through her phone for more details, her thumb flicking faster across the screen. “That’s… awful,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced over at Lucas, who seemed unfazed by the conversation.
Lucas noticed your look and mistook it for unease. “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes. “Want a drink or something?”
You nodded, playing into his kindness. “Sure, thanks.”
He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Allison’s head before heading to the kitchen, leaving you, Ellie, and Allison alone in the dim living room.
“Wait—” Allison’s brows knitted in confusion, her voice soft but growing with unease. “How’d you know he was from Michigan? It doesn’t say anything about…” Her voice trailed off as she continued scrolling, her eyes flicking back and forth over the screen, trying to make sense of what Ellie had just casually dropped.
Ellie’s smile barely flickered. “Just a guess,” she replied smoothly, her gaze icy and unbothered, creeping Allison out.
You chuckled at the exchange, and Allison turned to you with a confused look. “C’mon, cheer up, Allison! We’re just messing with you. Can’t you take a joke? It’s Halloween!”
Allison’s frown deepened as she glanced between you and Ellie, her eyes clouding with suspicion. She let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the unsettling vibe. “You two are… really something,” she said, brushing it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe paranoia was just doing her dirty. Oh, if she only knew.
Ellie smirked, she leaned forward, her voice dropping low. “Oh, you have no idea,” she whispered, her tone laced with something dark and final, a warning the girl didn’t quite catch.
Lucas handed you the drink, his face lighting up with an easy smile, completely unaware of the exchange. 
“You guys wanna play a game?” you asked, grinning at Allison and Lucas. The suggestion hung in the air, deceptively playful. Allison exchanged a look with Lucas, her unease melting a bit, as if convincing herself she was just imagining things.
She forced a smile. “Sure. What kind of game?”
Ellie’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “How about something… fun?”
˳·˖𖤐 Maybe it was the thrill of the game or the intoxicating rush of chaos, but after a few questions were answered and it was your turn, your eyes widened in shock as the blade pierced your stomach. Time seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with Ellie, and what you saw there sent a chill down your spine—your girlfriend’s eyes were empty, devoid of emotion—not even guilt shone in her eyes. It was like staring into a void. 
Blood poured from your mouth, warm and sticky, and panic coursed through you. When a week ago she had suggested trying something new, never did you think that would lead to this—her knife buried deep inside your insides, and blood pouring out of you like a crimson-tainted waterfall.
“W-why…?” you choked on your own blood, the words barely audible but with the stillness of the room, they seemed to echo louder. 
Allison and Lucas stood completely frozen, utterly speechless, their bodies rigid with shock as they watched the horrific scene unfold before their eyes, feeling useless and not knowing how to stop it. The crimson blood pooled out of your wound, soaking the fabric of your shirt, while Ellie’s gloves gleamed with a sinister shine. The red wasn’t so visible against the darkness of her attire, but it was there, unmistakable. 
“It was the wrong answer, babe,” Ellie whispered, her words dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl, and the innocent faint smile on her face made Allison want to rip her hair out. 
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Allison screamed, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as she took a shaky step back.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Lucas followed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anger, trying to process the madness unfolding in front of him.
“YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Allison yelled, her voice cracking as she cried, her hands shaking.
Your body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and through half-lidded eyes, you saw the panic set in as Allison and Lucas before you stopped breathing entirely. They scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over themselves. Allison’s frantic, manicured hands rattled desperately the knob, her voice shrill as she screamed for help, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. 
And she hadn’t locked it. She was sure she hadn’t.
Lucas, desperate to protect her, grabbed a vase from the entry table and hurled it at Ellie, the glass shattering against her shoulder with a harsh crack. It staggered her for a moment, just long enough for them to dart in separate directions, fleeing up the stairs. 
Ellie grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement as she took off after Lucas, her steps heavy but steady, savoring the thrill of the chase, like a cat chasing a mouse. She looked over her shoulder at you before she raced up the stairs. Allison stumbled into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The auburnette could hear the blonde girl breathing heavily, panicked, the creak of the floorboards giving her away as she backed into the room.
But she decided to take care of Lucas instead, having labeled Allison as the weakest between the two. She successfully cornered Lucas at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door to the master bathroom, eyes darting desperately around for anything he could use to defend himself. He grabbed a towel rack, ripping it off the wall and wielding it like a bat as Ellie advanced on him, her face lit with a twisted satisfaction. A stupid towel rack wasn’t going to stop her, and honestly, it excited her. She loved how people fought for their lives, no matter how fucked up the situation was. It was fascinating to watch, like a wild show of survival instincts kicking in. The panic, the desperation on their faces and in their actions—it was what got her heart racing and made her feel alive.
“You… you’re insane!” Lucas stammered, brandishing the metal rod with trembling hands.
He was taller, bigger, stronger—details that only made the auburnette’s grin widen, her attentive eyes narrowing with anticipation. To her, he was nothing but a challenge, one she was all too eager to take on. Ellie chuckled darkly, her eyes never leaving him as she took one slow, measured step forward. “Only now figuring that out, huh?” She took another step, her shadow looming over him as he shrank back against the tiled wall, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. He swung the metal bar, catching her arm with a glancing hit, but it only seemed to amuse her more. She couldn’t feel pain—not even the faintest pulse of her own heartbeat, completely drowned out by the surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. She felt invincible.
With a swift, practiced precision, Ellie caught his wrist, twisting it sharply until the rod clattered to the aquamarine floor. “Nice try, Lucas,” she hissed before shoving him backward, hard enough that his head cracked against the tile. He slumped to the floor, groaning, his vision swimming as Ellie towered over him. But he fought nonetheless, his hands trying to stop her from sinking the sharp knife into his throat, but it didn’t last long. He didn’t last long.
“That was stupid,” she panted, standing over his corpse, her look sharp and full of disdain. Her face was scrunched in anger, but the adrenaline flooding her veins felt incredible—like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. The thrill of it. A loud noise snapped her from her thoughts. The old wood creaked under her black boots as she headed toward the room where she’d last seen Allison hide.
˳·˖𖤐 The guest bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she shoved it open with a firm kick. Her eyes locked onto Allison, sprawled lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around her still body. Her face was frozen in horror as if she’d seen a ghost in her final moments. Her gaze drifted up—to you, standing just a few feet from Allison’s lifeless body.
“Hey, babe,” you said with a crooked smile, giving her a little wave, clearly nervous but with a spark of excitement in your eyes that made her stare in awe. She remembered that feeling all too well—the jitters, the high that followed her first time. And here you were, cheeks flushed and grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire cat, looking so damn giddy as you took it all in—like a kid who had just discovered their new favorite toy. 
Trying new things had definitely been the right move, and Ellie didn’t regret it for a second, because you were practically glowing. For the first time, you felt truly alive. It hit you then, just how much emptiness you’d been carrying all these years, how you’d learned to live with that hollow feeling. But this? This made you feel whole. Euphoric. Alive in every possible way.
“How’d I do?” you asked, almost childlike, looking up at her with eager eyes, fishing for approval—her approval. It was all you needed, and it felt like trying to impress a middle school crush all over again.
“Pretty good, my love. You did great,” she praised, a hint of pride sneaking into her voice.
“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.
Her gaze softened briefly, a low, amused, throaty laugh slipping from her lips as she pushed a stray lock of hair back with the back of her blood-stained glove, leaving a smudged streak of red across her cheekbone. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she took in the mess you’d created. “You know, for a second there, I didn’t think you’d go through with it. Look at you now.” Her tongue darted across her bottom lip as she looked at you up and down, ready to pounce on you any time now.
You blushed, a bit sheepish, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor. “What can I say? Guess you’re a bad influence,” you smirked, shrugging it off like it was nothing.
She tossed the knife aside, and you mirrored her every move, watching as she peeled off her gloves and stepped closer. Her toothy smile widened as she pulled you in, her thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone, still warm from the adrenaline rush, while her other trembling hand rested on your waist. “Oh, yeah? Gonna start blaming me now?”
“Maybe,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. 
The freckled girl leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, soft and warm and she tasted so sweet.
“Your performance down there was flawless, and your technique…” she trailed off, her eyes trailing down to Allison’s body, “Not bad for your first time. A little shaky on the left stab, but hey,” she shrugged, lips curling into a teasing smirk, knowing damn well that even the gentlest dose of constructive criticism would get under your skin, “we’ll work on it.”
You scoffed and swatted her hand away, but Ellie just giggled, her laugh soft and breathless. “Can’t believe you got that question wrong, though,” she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing your cheek again, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you. That familiar smug smirk tugged at her heart-shaped lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a more playful one, her breath warm against your heated skin. “We’ve only watched the first Scream movie a hundred times together,” she said, almost mockingly offended, her green eyes bright with mischief, the ones that told you exactly what she had in mind. And she swore she was falling deeper for you, you had her in a chokehold.
You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “I only watched it because you were obsessed with it and I thought you were cute,” you admitted.
Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she raised her scarred eyebrow at you. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling her hand drift lower to your waist, pulling you closer, you cupped her cheek, your thumb caressing her blood-stained cheekbone lovingly, staring at her enamored.
Her lips brushed against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You know what I'm really in the mood for?” Her hand slipped lower and lower until it was resting on your plush ass, giving it a suggestive squeeze.
You chuckled, pretending to think. “Pizza?”
She let out a soft laugh. “I was gonna say you, but…” She gave you that crooked, lopsided smile, shrugging playfully.
You snorted, “Oh, well, that too. I just didn’t know killing works up your appetite.”
Her smirk deepened, revealing that dimple on her left cheek you loved so much, her infatuated gaze lingering on your lips almost as if she wanted to swallow you whole. “My bad. Should’ve warned you,” she murmured, then backed you toward the bed behind you, her hands rough but confident, pressing you down as she crawled on top, her breath hot and insistent against your supple skin.
Before you knew it, she was buried deep inside you, slender, calloused fingers curling and pressing against that spot that had you whining, and your legs trembling. Her other hand gripped her switchblade, cool metal tracing up to press it against your throat, and she could feel you squeeze her fingers. “Awwhh, baby,” she taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “You keep squirming like that, and it’s gonna cost you your life.”
You choked out a laugh, though it came out breathless and shaky. “You’d cum at the sight, wouldn’t you?” You bit your lip to stifle a moan, body struggling to hold still as she kept up that relentless rhythm, her fingers stretching and curling deep inside you, making your whole body shudder. You couldn’t help but trap her arm, a weak attempt to slow her down because you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with her pressing a knife on your throat. “Fucking psycho.”
“But you love me.” She said it so matter-of-factly, her lips curling with satisfaction as she watched you nod, helpless and needy, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around her, drawing her in like you couldn’t get enough.
“Yeah, I love you! F-Fuck…” you gasped, grinding down on her fingers, desperate, craving that friction your hungry clit needed. 
Her smitten gaze drifted to the lifeless body sprawled across the room, a proud smirk tugging at her lips. “So proud of you. You did such a good job. Look at her.” She tilted your face, forcing you to take it in. “Your work.” And in her fucked up mind, she truly believed it—your work deserved to be worshiped, just like Picasso’s after he was gone. A masterpiece, painted with every kind of brutal emotion.
You let out a shaky breath, almost dazed. “Yeah, I… I did that,” you stammered, voice breaking, caught somewhere between a whimper and a sob, you could feel it, you were close already and all that praising surely wasn’t helping.
“That’s right,” she murmured, nodding as her eyes roamed over you, taking you in like she was seeing you for the first time, it made you melt. “You’re so fucking hot, god. Made just for me. Perfect for me.”
˳·˖𖤐 Maybe she was right. You felt it deep down, a truth that clung to you. A match made in hell. And as long as you had her, you’d be more than fine.
303 notes · View notes
emchante · 3 days ago
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kinktober | pleasure in your pleas - o.p.
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summary: with oscar teasing you relentlessly, your incesent begging shows how badly you need him. the begging only drives him on, taking great pleasure from your pleas.
WARNINGS: 18+ content, fingering, dom!oscar, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praise, light dacryphilia.
w.c. 2.8k+
a/n: last week of kinktober!! remember there's this post, an extra tomorrow and then the final halloween post. hope you all enjoy this, as the majority of you all voted dom!oscar! let me know your thoughts via reblog, comment or ask, i love hearing from you guys.
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oscar piastri was a lot of things—charming, competitive, and determined—but when it came to you, he had a streak that was insatiably playful, bordering on devilishly teasing. you were lounging in his hotel room after a long day, the air between you charged with a lingering electricity. the chemistry the both of you shared was undeniable, and despite the endless hours of travel and work, your mind could never quite keep away from thinking about him.
tonight was no different.
oscar was in one of his moods, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he lay on his side, propped up by an elbow. You could feel his gaze trailing over you, soaking up every movement of your smaller body, every shift in your expression as you read the latest articles on your phone. he had a knack for reading you, knowing just what buttons to press to drive you to the edge.
his fingers traced an absentminded pattern along your thigh, the gentle graze of his fingertips causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin. his touch was maddeningly light, not enough to satisfy the craving you had building inside but enough to keep your senses buzzing with anticipation.
you shifted restlessly on the bed, your breath coming out a little sharper than usual. “oscar…” you managed to say, your voice sounding far too needy for your liking. you knew he could hear the pleading in it—he always did.
“what is it?” he asked, his tone all innocent curiosity as if he hadn’t been the one tormenting you for the past twenty minutes. his fingers halted their exploration, and you almost whimpered at the loss. the small smirk on his face started to grow larger as he heard you try to restrain any noises.
he knew what you wanted. hell, he could practically feel it radiating off of you in waves, the growing desperation to have him do something, anything, more than this teasing.
“oscar,” you said again, hoping he would just stop this game. but he didn’t move. instead, he leaned in a little closer, tilting his head as if he were trying to figure you out.
“i’m listening,” he prompted, his voice low and smooth, laced with a teasing note that sent a shiver down your spine. you bit your lip, embarrassed at the sheer neediness in your voice. You were supposed to be strong, confident.. not this needy mess begging for his attention. but when he was looking at you like that, with those knowing eyes and that infuriatingly smug smirk, it felt impossible to hold onto any semblance of control.
“please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but were instantly met back with a  “please, what?” and there it was—that teasing lilt again. it drove you crazy, the way he reveled in making you beg for him. his fingers resumed their lazy exploration, but now they danced along the inside of your thigh, so close to where you ached for him yet so far at the same time.
your breath hitched at the touch, your hips arching slightly towards his hand of their own accord. but he pulled away in an instant, as if to punish you for trying to get what you wanted without asking for it.
“please,” you repeated, louder this time, almost desperate. you could feel the heat building between your legs, a slow, torturous burn that only oscar seemed capable of igniting.
“come on,” he pressed, his voice barely above a whisper now. he shifted closer, his face mere inches from yours. “you know what I want to hear,” he coaxed, hooded eyes switching from your own, to your lips, and then back up. 
you felt your cheeks flush, embarrassment warring with the overwhelming need you felt. he knew exactly how to push you, to toy with you until you were practically falling apart at his feet. it was maddening, the way he got such a twisted pleasure out of hearing you beg.
“oscar,” you tried again, your voice trembling slightly. “please, fuck. just—”
“just what?” he cut in, smirk overtaking his face completely. he was enjoying this far too much, taking great pleasure in the way you were slowly unraveling under his touch. he hadn’t had you like this in so long, due to the latest tripler header. why shouldn’t he let himself indulge a little?
your hands fisted in the sheets, trying to find something to ground you. “touch me,” you finally managed to say, barely a whisper. “i need you.”
“oh?” he raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “you need me?” he pushed, needing more than that to allow his fingers to continue their journey up your thigh.
“yes,” you breathed, nodding desperately. “please, osc. i need you so fucking bad, i’m desperate,” you told him, closing your eyes in defeat. you knew you had to let yourself beg a little more to get what you wanted.
but Oscar wasn’t satisfied with that. no, he wanted more. he always wanted more, and today was no different. 
“say it again,” he urged, his voice dropping to a low murmur. his hand traced up your thigh once more, fingers grazing the edge of your shorts, so achingly close yet still not quite enough. the icy touch of his calloused fingers against your soft skin was amazing, you desperately needed him to move further.
you felt yourself shudder, the tension in your body almost unbearable at this point. “fucking– please,” you repeated, louder this time. “i need you, oscar. i need you so fucking bad, you have no idea.”
he let out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating through you, making your breath catch in your throat, heat filling your cheeks. “that’s a good start,” he mused, almost as if he were talking to himself.
a good start?? you felt a surge of frustration, though it was mixed with desire. that combination was deadly, and it felt almost too much to bear. he was enjoying this, drawing it out just to watch you squirm beneath him.
“oscar,” you pleaded, your voice breaking slightly. “please—” “hmm,” he interrupted, tilting his head as if considering your plea. “i don’t know… i’m not sure if you really deserve it yet.”
the words sent a shock of arousal through you, a mixture of frustration and want so intense it nearly left you breathless. he was toying with you, holding back just to hear you beg more.
“please,” you begged again, your voice a desperate whimper now. “i need you so badly, oscar, please—”
“much better,” he murmured, his fingers finally slipping under the hem of your shorts, brushing over the fabric of your underwear. you gasped at the sudden movement– but still, it wasn’t enough. not nearly enough. 
you couldn’t hold back the needy sound that escaped your lips at the sensation. “osc,” you breathed, your voice nothing more than a desperate plea at this point. “for fuck sake– i’m begging you.”
he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “i love hearing you beg like this,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to roll your eyes at oscar, as if he didn’t just state the obvious. but he spoke up again before you could.  “do you even realize how good you sound right now? whining.. begging, just for me?”
you let out a shaky breath, your entire body trembling with need. you repeated your pleas over and over, your voice barely recognizable now, laced with desperation. “osc, please…”
he seemed to consider your plea for a moment, as if weighing his options. and then, finally, he pressed his lips against your neck, the gentle brush of his mouth sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
you let out a high-pitched moan, your entire body relaxing into the touch. but he didn’t stop there. his lips trailed down, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the curve of your neck, his hand slipping lower as his fingers brushed over the fabric covering your most sensitive spot– the spot where you needed him most.
your breath hitched at the contact, another moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. you were too far gone to care about holding back now—too lost in the overwhelming need for him to keep up any pretense of restraint.
“oscar,” you breathed, the sound of his name almost a sob. even more so when you continued to chant his name, hoping he’d accept those begs and start giving you what you wanted.
he hummed in satisfaction, his fingers finally slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, brushing over your heated skin. you let out a shaky breath, your entire body trembling at the sensation.
“good girl,” he praised quietly, his voice sending another shiver down your spine. his low, quiet voice was such a sharp contrast to your loud, insistent begs that he was making you hit out with. “you’re doing so well for me, baby. doing just as i ask.”
the praise made you feel lightheaded, your mind going blank with need. he knew exactly how to unravel you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the overwhelming desire for him.
he pressed a finger against your clit, the sudden contact making you gasp. your hips arched involuntarily towards him, trying to chase the feeling. but he pulled back just enough to leave you wanting, a teasing grin on his lips. your eyes widened at the loss of contact, staring at his cocky expression with confusion lacing it’s way onto your features.
“patience,” he chided, his voice laced with amusement. “you begged so nicely, love— i want to enjoy this for a little longer, you understand right?”
you let out a whimper of frustration, your body practically thrumming with need. it was almost unbearable, the way he kept you on the edge, never quite giving you enough to tip you over. 
“please,” you begged again, your voice was nothing but a broken whisper at this point, just like he wanted. “oscar, please—”
he seemed to take pity on you then, his fingers finally slipping inside, pressing into your heat with a deliberate slowness that made you feel like you were coming apart at the seams. you let out a choked moan, your hands clutching the sheets as if they were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.
he set a slow, torturous pace, watching with rapt attention as you writhed beneath him, his name falling from your lips in a desperate chant. you were so close, teetering on the edge, and he knew it. but just as you felt yourself start to unravel, he pulled back, his fingers stilling inside you. you let out a frustrated whine, your hips bucking towards him in a futile attempt to chase the feeling.
“not yet,” he hummed, his voice all dark amusement. “You’ll have to beg a little more than that, baby.”
You couldn’t stop the tears of frustration that welled up in your eyes, your entire body trembling with need. “please,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “fucking hell– i’m going to lose it oscar, i’m begging you please—”
“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent as he took in the sight of you, completely undone beneath him. “you’re doing so well for me.”
and then, finally, he relented, his fingers resuming their movement. this time oscar resumed his rhythm with renewed intensity, his fingers driving into you with a purposeful, steady pace that made your whole body quiver. he was focused, watching every expression you made as if memorizing them. it was almost as if your desperation was a reward in itself, fueling his relentless teasing.
“look at you,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly. “so needy for just my fingers?”
you could barely respond, the pleasure building inside you making it difficult to think straight. every stroke of his fingers sent another wave of heat flooding through you, and the pressure inside was coiling tighter and tighter. your lips parted, your breathing ragged, and you felt your chest rising and falling faster than you could control.
his words kept you tethered, just enough to drive you forward. “shit,” you whimpered, feeling so close to the release you had been begging for. “oscar, i’m going to—”
“no,” he cut you off, his voice firm yet still maddeningly gentle. “not yet.”
the desperation in his tone mirrored your own, but he was too wrapped up in this—wrapped up in you. he wanted to hold you there, wanted you to reach the peak only when he decided to allow it. your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to obey, every muscle in your body taut, straining against the thin thread of control he held over you.
you felt a tear slip down your cheek, your voice catching in your throat. “oscar, please—” the word was a broken sob now, a plea, a surrender. you couldn’t hold back anymore, the raw, vulnerable sound of your voice echoing in the room.
“that’s it,” he cooed, a dark satisfaction coloring his voice. “such a good girl, begging so sweetly for me. just like i wanted you to do, and you listened. so, so good for me.”
the praise felt like gasoline to the fire, burning away the last shred of restraint you had left. your nails dug into his arm, your grip trembling as you tried to ground yourself in the onslaught of sensation. the ache inside you was almost too much to bear, the pleasure teetering on that agonizing edge, waiting for permission to break free.
“oscar,” you pleaded, your voice strained and breathless. “i need—please, i can’t– i need”
“i know,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and something more tender, something almost fond. “but you need to hold on just a little longer, baby. i know you can do that for me”
the way he spoke, the absolute control he wielded over you, left you feeling utterly powerless and yet completely safe. it was a maddening paradox, the pleasure intertwined with the anticipation. every second felt like an eternity, and yet you never wanted this feeling to end.
when he finally pressed his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin, you felt another surge of arousal rush through you. he was marking you, claiming you, and the knowledge of that made you feel impossibly closer to the edge.
“okay,” he finally breathed, his voice almost a growl, his fingers picking up speed. “now.”
it was all you needed to hear. the words triggered something inside you, the pressure snapping like a tightly wound string. your body convulsed, the orgasm crashing over you in an overwhelming wave, leaving you breathless and shaking. his name fell from your lips in a cry, your vision going hazy as you rode out the intense pleasure.
oscar didn’t stop, working you through your high with steady, deliberate movements until you were left trembling in the aftershocks, your body completely spent. he held you, his touch gentle now, as if afraid you might break under his hands. the intensity of the moment slowly faded, replaced by a lingering warmth that spread through your entire being.
you were panting, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. oscar shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. his fingers brushed against your cheek, wiping away the tear that had slipped out earlier. there was a tenderness in his gaze now, a softness that hadn’t been there during his teasing.
“good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. “you did so well for me. listening to everything i said.”
you felt a smile tug at your lips, the praise making your chest swell with a quiet satisfaction. the teasing might have driven you to the brink, but the way he looked at you now made it all worth it.
as the tension melted away, you allowed yourself to relax against him, your body still humming with the lingering echoes of pleasure. oscar shifted, pulling you closer to him until you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gesture intimate and comforting.
“are you okay?” he asked softly, his tone laced with genuine concern. you nodded, still too dazed to form words, and felt him chuckle quietly against you. the sound was warm and familiar, grounding you in the aftermath of everything that had just happened.
he held you for a while longer, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back as you slowly came back to yourself. there was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet intimacy of being held by someone who knew you so deeply.
and as you lay there, completely spent and yet utterly content, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the way oscar knew how to push you to your limits—and then catch you when you inevitably fell.
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dreamauri · 2 days ago
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♪ — 𝗠𝗬 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗨𝗦 max vertsappen  x  dutch! fem! driver! reader ( angst ) fic summary . . . when admiration and worship morphs into an obsession that borders on rivalry and hate, even as it remains tangled with traces of reluctant respect. From studying his every move as a young fan, Yn transforms into his fiercest competitor, driven by the need not just to beat her childhood idol, Max Verstappen, but to utterly dethrone him. (5.7K words)
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You pull off your helmet with a fury that blurs your vision, the weight of the day’s mistakes turning everything to red. You’d been so close—so damn close to taking the lead from him, only for Max to pull that brake test, sending both of you into the barriers. Without a second thought, you dropkick your helmet across the gravel, your scream piercing the air.
He’s already out of his car, stalking toward you with that smug, barely-contained anger in his eyes. The type of anger that’s wrapped up in confidence and control, the kind that shows he doesn’t care, not really.
“Are you out of your mind?” he barks, his voice clipped, only the faintest bit breathless. “What the hell was that?”
“You! You were what the hell that was!” you shout back, stepping forward until a marshal wedges between you, holding you both back with outstretched arms. “You pulled that damn stunt! You think you’re untouchable, Verstappen, but you’re not!” Your words echo across the track, catching the attention of everyone nearby.
Max’s lips curl into a mocking smirk. “Untouchable? Coming from the one who can’t seem to finish a race without nearly taking someone out?” His laugh is bitter, biting, and it grates on every nerve you have left.
“When did you turn into such a coward?” you hiss, every word as sharp as the tension in the air. “Or did the idea of losing to me start to get under your skin?”
Max’s face twitches, just for a second, but he covers it up with a shrug, like your words meant nothing. “Get real, Yn. You’re reckless. This sport has no place for someone like you if you’re going to risk both our necks out there.”
But as the marshals pull you apart, each of you going in opposite directions, the heat simmering in your chest turns from anger to something almost painful, a question that’s been lying dormant for too long: When did I start hating him so much?
In the quietness of the shower back in your drivers room, the memories come rushing back.
There was a time when you couldn’t even imagine hating Max. A time that you looked up to Max. You can see it now, your younger self glued to the screen, watching every race, every move he made on the track. Back then, he was a hero, a force you admired, your inspiration as you fought your way through karting, Formula 4, Formula 3.
It was one of those post-race interviews, back in the early days, when a reporter called you “Mini Max.” They’d smiled at you, waiting for your reaction, and you’d laughed, your cheeks flushed as you spoke about how much you looked up to him. It felt like an honor, a small victory, to be compared to him.
But somewhere along the way, admiration soured into frustration. Somewhere along the way, you started to hate him—hate that he seemed so invincible, that he could still overshadow you, that no matter what you did, he was always a step ahead.
Now, the thought of finishing behind him feels like a betrayal to the younger version of you, the girl who once dreamed of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her hero. No, now it’s no longer enough to be near him. You need to beat him. You need him to feel what it’s like to lose.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
While he was enjoying the off-season, probably relaxing on some distant beach enjoying his winder break, you were here—training, pushing yourself past every limit until your muscles ached, until you couldn’t remember anything but the fire burning inside you. You wanted to be better. You had to be.
You’d already stolen one of his records: youngest F1 driver. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted his wins, his titles, his legacy. Every drop of sweat, every missed social event, every sleepless night—all of it was for one thing: to dethrone Max Verstappen.
“You’re pushing too hard,” your performance coach warned one day, watching you with concern as you struggled to complete yet another lap on the simulator, your hands trembling with exhaustion.
“I’m not stopping until I’m faster than him,” you gritted out, voice strained, but you didn’t let up. You couldn’t. Because every time you closed your eyes, you saw him there, his smirk, his arrogant confidence, and it made you push harder, faster, ignoring every ache and pain.
Pre-season testing felt like a curse. The moment you hit the track, frustration settled in like an unwanted passenger, sitting heavy in your chest as you struggled with the car’s every turn. You needed something perfect, something that could carry you past him, but instead, the car felt like it was working against you, resisting every command.
“Is this really the best we can do?” you snapped at your engineer after another failed lap. Your tone was sharp, the bite in your voice making him flinch.
“It’s early, Yn,” he replied cautiously, not quite meeting your eyes. “We still have time to make adjustments.”
Time? You wanted to laugh, but it felt too bitter. There was no time—not when you could feel Max somewhere on the track, clocking in faster times in his rocketship, his team perfecting every detail while you were stuck here, in a car that felt like it was holding you back.
“It needs to be better,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, but every ounce of frustration bled through. “I need it to be better if I’m going to beat him.”
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
As the season began, you avoided Max like he was some kind of curse, the plague even. Every time you saw him across the paddock, your jaw clenched, and you turned away. Every glance he threw your way felt like a challenge, and every interview brought questions you hated answering, questions about him, about your rivalry, about your chances against him.
The roar of the crowd was still pounding in your ears as you climbed out of the car, adrenaline coursing through you as every nerve thrummed with frustration. The race had been brutal—more than it should have been. You’d fought for every inch, every corner, only to have Max come up behind you on that last lap, reckless as always, clipping the side of your car and puncturing a hole right near the rear wing.
You tore off your gloves, tossing them to the side before stepping closer to examine the damage. The deep gouge was blatant against the pristine paint, a mark of just how close he’d come to forcing you out completely. Your fingers traced the edges of the hole, the anger simmering hotter with each second as you replayed the moment he veered in your direction, testing you in a move so blatant you couldn’t ignore it if you tried.
A nearby camera crew caught the scene, the lens aimed in your direction as you ripped off your helmet, pushing damp strands of hair from your face. You barely registered the red light on the camera, too consumed by the frustration boiling over.
“He really had to pull that move, didn’t he?” you muttered, voice dripping with bitterness as you wiped sweat from your brow. “Typical Max. God, he’s such a… such a bitch.”
The words came out low, rough, but it was enough for the camera to catch them, the red light blinking like it was in on the joke, laughing with you, or at you, whichever it was. You let out a huff, half-expecting him, Max,  to have heard it somehow, already imagining his response—a smirk, a raised brow, maybe some cocky comment about how close he’d gotten to overtaking.
As you ran a hand over your face, trying to shake off the rage, you felt someone approaching from behind. You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. Max’s presence was unmistakable, like a storm looming over you, too close, too intense.
“What?” you snapped, finally spinning around to face him. He was already out of his helmet, his blue eyes fixed on you with that unreadable look that made your blood boil all over again.
“What? No ‘thank you’ for keeping it interesting?” he replied, his tone light but his gaze sharper, more calculating.
“Oh, sure,” you retorted, a bitter laugh slipping out. “Thank you for trying to send me into the wall with that last move. Real sportsmanship, Max.”
He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind getting a little aggressive when it suits you. Didn’t think you’d be this sensitive about it.”
“Sensitive?” You stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “That was reckless, even for you. I’m not surprised you’d think putting both of us at risk is somehow a good idea.”
Max’s smirk faded, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “If you can’t handle the pressure, maybe—”
“Don’t,” you cut him off, words coming out like steel. “Don’t you dare imply that I can’t handle it. I was still ahead of you, even with that stunt. Maybe you should stop hiding behind dirty tactics and see how long you can actually stay in front without them.”
The air was thick with tension, and you barely noticed the media crew and team members pretending to busy themselves nearby, clearly trying to avoid interrupting whatever this was turning into.
Max let out a slow breath, his expression softening just enough that it threw you off for a second. “Believe what you want, Yn. Just remember who crossed the line first.”
His words were like a taunt, but they left a hollow ache in their wake as he turned, walking away without another glance back. You clenched your fists, feeling the heat of the camera still on you, catching everything.
Fine. Let them see, let them know you weren’t about to let him get away with this. If Max Verstappen wanted a rivalry, then that’s exactly what he was going to get.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The roar of the engines echoed around the track, every corner a battle between you and Max. Your car was an extension of you, a machine honed and perfected for moments like this, pushing you to the very edge as you fought for P1 in the sprint race. Max was right there—just inches away, as relentless as ever. Every overtake, every daring cut into the corner, was met with resistance from him, as if he refused to let you have even an inch of track.
“He’s defending like mad,” one of the commentators said, awe in his voice. “You have to wonder if they’re aware of how much this fight feels like Caesar and Brutus. Max as Caesar, of course, with Yn gunning for him like Brutus.”
Your focus sharpened even further, the comparison strangely invigorating, pushing you to take every move with more aggression. If they wanted a Brutus, they’d get one.
When the race ended, you crossed the line right behind Max, fuming and breathless but satisfied with the chase. It was in the media pen afterward, your mind still replaying every maneuver, that an interviewer brought up the commentary.
“Did you catch what they were calling you out there?” the interviewer asked with a sly grin, clearly relishing in the drama.
You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “No, what?”
“They called you ‘Brutus.’”
You blinked in surprise, a mix of confusion and amusement flitting across your face before you brushed it off with a shrug. “It’s fitting, isn’t it? Brutus was victorious in the end.” You tried offering, looking at the bright side and giving a small smile, letting the interviewer chuckle as you shrugged off the implication. You knew there was a bite to your words, an edge that hinted at more than a friendly rivalry.
Meanwhile, in Max’s own interview, when they informed him of the new nickname, he barely batted an eye. “Yeah?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. Then he gave a small, careless nod. “It’s fitting, ’cause she’s a brute.” There was a half-smirk on his face, and the way he said it was practically a challenge. You could practically hear his voice, even though you were nowhere near him.
The next day, you stepped onto the track with a new kind of energy, a thrill of anticipation in your veins. As you took your position on the grid, a chant from the crowd filtered into your helmet. You could hear it even over the sound of engines revving, the murmur and shout of the crowd growing stronger: “Brutus! Brutus! Brutus!”
The name had taken hold, and there was something about it that set your blood on fire. You embraced it, straightening in your seat as though you were some kind of warrior, sent with purpose to take down Max. It felt like you weren’t just racing for yourself anymore; you were embodying something larger, a symbol of the one who dared to challenge the reigning power.
You glanced to the side where Max’s car sat in P1, his familiar helmet tilted as he prepped, no doubt hearing the same chant. If he looked your way, you didn’t see it, too wrapped up in the energy that was now backing you. You were Brutus, and you were ready to show everyone, including Max, just how fierce you could be.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Each race felt like peeling back another layer, another page in a book you couldn’t stop reading, even as it tore at you. Max had become everything that drove you—every late-night practice, every reckless risk taken, every corner claimed just an inch sharper. You’d built your entire career studying him, dissecting his strengths, cataloging his weaknesses, carving out a strategy with every heartbeat set to match his.
But that irony twisted in your gut like a knife. It was almost poetic, really: you’d spent years learning him, watching him, emulating him until you’d become something terrifyingly similar. It was as if you’d built yourself in his image, shaped your own ambition around his fire, around the relentless hunger he brought to every race. But the thought was bitter, cold. Every time someone compared you, every time they pointed out how alike you were, it felt like a betrayal.
A betrayal to the younger you, to the version of yourself who’d watched him with awe, who’d traced his lines on paper with stars doodled around his name. The one who had once seen him as a symbol of everything good and pure about racing.
Now, he was nothing more than a hurdle you couldn’t ignore, one you refused to let stand in your way.
But no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you resented him for being the goal you chased, you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t. Not until every accolade, every win, every record was ripped from his hands. Not until you stood there, victorious, knowing it was your name on everyone’s lips. Even if it meant becoming the very thing you hated.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The music pulsed, pounding through your chest as you leaned over the bar, nursing your drink with an intensity that bordered on dangerous. Tonight had been supposed to be an escape—a distraction from the simmering frustration that came with finishing just behind Max. Again. You could still feel the clench of your hands around the wheel, the image of him just a few seconds ahead as you crossed the finish line etched behind your eyelids. You wanted to forget it all. Lose yourself to the numbing, pounding bass and the warm haze of alcohol.
But that small sense of victory shattered the moment you caught sight of him across the club. Max. His eyes were on you, his presence impossible to ignore as he stood near the VIP section, laughing with friends, drink in hand. You groaned, tipping your drink back in a quick gulp. Of all the places...
You tried to ignore him, focusing on the dance floor, the bodies swaying around you, anything but the fact that he was watching your every move. But the alcohol mixed with the adrenaline still buzzing from the race, and that tiny, vengeful part of you wanted to prove something—to remind yourself you didn’t need to dwell on Max Verstappen.
But then you felt it: a warm, familiar touch wrapping around your waist. An arm pulling you back gently, firmly, into a chest that you knew too well.
"You know," he murmured, voice low, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re just like me."
The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated the way your heart reacted, a mix of anger and something else you didn’t want to name. You tried to wriggle free, stumbling slightly as the room spun around you. “Get off, Max. Go celebrate somewhere else.”
But he didn’t let go, his grip steady, holding you against him. “Come on, Yn,” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "Let me take care of you. I'll take care of you."
His words wrapped around you like a taunt, like an invitation. You wanted to resist, to pull away and leave him there, but your head was foggy, your limbs heavy from the drinks, from the heat of his breath. You could barely manage a scowl as he pulled you closer, his hand steady against your waist.
“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, your words slurred but defiant.
“I know,” he murmured, his voice a warm murmur in your ear. “But I’m still here.”
Your mind swirled, the beat of the music fading to a low hum as you let yourself sink into his warmth, barely remembering how you’d stumbled out of the club, your legs unsteady as he led you down the hall to his suite.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The next morning, you woke with a start, your head pounding as the light filtered through the hotel curtains. You groaned, burying your head in the pillow. You weren’t home—this wasn’t your bed. Slowly, memories of last night seeped in, fractured and surreal. The club. The warmth of Max’s arm around your waist. The soft rasp of his voice in your ear.
And then it hit you. The sex, the moaning, the positions, the kissing, biting, fighting, fucking. All of it.
You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you back into the bed. “Leaving already?” Max’s voice was thick with sleep, his blue eyes meeting yours with a soft, unreadable look.
You tried to pull away, the instinct to run screaming through your hazy mind, but he caught your chin gently, tilting your face toward him. “Stay,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours, soft and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.
Your mind raced, half of you screaming to push him away, but the warmth of his mouth, the way his hand cupped your face—it was both maddening and disarming. Just for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, your guard down, all your reasons to hate him slipping through your fingers like sand.
The aftermath of the kiss felt like whiplash. Your initial hesitation morphed into pure, seething anger, and you shoved Max’s arm off, pulling yourself away. The alcohol may have clouded your thoughts last night, but clarity came barreling through now, sharp and laced with regret. You needed to get out—fast.
Throwing off the covers, you stormed to the other side of the room, grabbing your clothes off the floor with an urgency that matched your pounding heartbeat. As you shoved your legs into your jeans, Max stirred behind you, still sprawled half-asleep, reaching out as if to pull you back down beside him.
“Yn,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Why the rush? It’s not like you’ve got anywhere better—”
“Don’t,” you snapped, jamming your arms into your jacket. Your voice was clipped, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the zipper. “Just… don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking last night. This—” you motioned between you two, fingers trembling with irritation “—this was a mistake.”
Max sat up, that grin fading as he registered your expression. “Wait—hey, just hold on,” he muttered, pushing the blankets off and scrambling to find his boxers. You didn’t wait, storming toward the door, but his voice pulled you up short.
“So you’re really just going to walk out? Pretend this didn’t happen?” He was struggling into his pants, one leg half in as he hobbled after you.
You turned to him, words cutting through the morning air like a knife. “Yes, Max. I’m walking out because that’s exactly what this was—a mistake I’m leaving behind. We’re nothing alike, no matter what you want to think.”
He swayed, one hand against the wall as he finally managed to get his pants on, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure that’s what this is? Or are you just scared to admit that you don’t hate me as much as you say you do?”
You paused, heart catching in your throat, looking at him for what felt like a minute before laughing bitterly, hoping your pause wasn’t too long for him to notice. Your heart ached. “You’re delusional. The only reason I was here was because I was too drunk to know better.”
Max took a step closer, eyes glinting with a challenge. “Then why don’t you tell me to stay away? Tell me to stop following you. I will, right now, if that’s what you really want.”
You faltered, your gaze flicking to the door, the pull between you both undeniable and frustrating. You could feel his stare digging into you, asking you to turn back, to stop pretending that he didn’t know you better than you wanted him to.
But instead, you gripped the doorknob and turned it, your knuckles going white. You didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you?
And before you let him say anything, you stepped through, slamming the door behind you.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
You were sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as another race played out before you. It wasn’t your own; it was one of Max’s races from a few seasons back. Your thumb hovered over the rewind button, your attention focused solely on catching every turn, every move he made. You leaned forward, squinting as you watched his lines, his techniques—any crack in his armor that might finally give you the edge you needed.
Behind you, your mother and father’s voices clashed in the kitchen.
“If you’d bothered to pick up the dry cleaning like I asked—” “Oh, don’t start. Just because you’re married again doesn’t mean you get to dictate my life, Liza.”
You tuned them out. Their back-and-forth was almost as predictable as Max’s lines around a slow corner; it was white noise now, nothing that could break your concentration.
Just as you spotted something—maybe a half-second hesitation in his approach to the apex—your father walked into the room, arms crossed, a smirk on his face as he eyed you and then the screen. He leaned against the doorframe, clearly amused.
“Still glued to that Verstappen kid, huh?” he teased, shaking his head. “I swear, it’s borderline obsession at this point.” He held something up, something that made your heart skip a beat—a familiar little notebook, worn and creased, with your childish doodles on the cover.
You looked at it, your chest tightening. The old notebook you’d kept as a kid, filled with every scrap of information about Max you could find—techniques, race strategies, his overtakes, his lines…everything.
He walked over, dropping the notebook onto your lap with a chuckle. “Remember this? You used to practically idolize him. Stars, doodles, the works,” he said, a slight hint of nostalgia in his tone. “You’d scribble notes while watching his races, your little hero.”
You swallowed, flipping open the notebook slowly. There it was: your handwriting, a little messy but full of enthusiasm, each page packed with observations about Max’s races. “Quick on the throttle here,” “Stellar defense move,” “Perfect line through Turn 4.” Some sections even had little stars around his name, doodles you’d drawn in the margins. Little hearts you hadn’t even noticed you’d drawn. Back then, he’d been like a god to you, the driver you’d wanted to be like, even surpass one day. The admiration on those pages was almost embarrassing now, a reminder of how innocent and naive you’d once been.
“Maybe I used to admire him,” you muttered, closing the notebook with a slight flush. You looked back at the screen, at the Max on the track, now an opponent, someone you wanted nothing more than to beat. “But that was before I knew what he was really like.”
Your dad laughed, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Sure, sure, whatever you say. Just keep your obsession in check, alright? Wouldn’t want Max to get a restraining order.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t shake the feeling of those old memories lingering. The stars, the admiration—they were still in the notebook, a record of a time when you’d looked up to Max, and in a way, it reminded you of why you’d wanted to race in the first place. But now, you had something more to prove, and none of those doodles and stars could make you forget that.
The notebook lay open in your lap, one page showing a neatly drawn corner with “Max’s line” scribbled beside it. You had been meticulous, even back then, mapping his every turn, his every strategy like they were holy instructions, some sacred blueprint of how to be the best.
“Honestly, Liza, I’m not the one who left the thermostat set to Arctic!” Your dad’s voice cut through the hum.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to run every single thing by you,” your mom snapped back. The sharp clink of a pan hitting the stovetop made you wince, your focus wobbling before you found it again.
You sat down heavily in your sim rig, the notebook clutched in your lap. Flipping through its pages, you skimmed over the small stars and scribbled praises, memories spilling out like ghosts as you stared down at all those words you’d once used to describe Max: quick, flawless, untouchable. A tiny part of you wanted to laugh at yourself; the other part ached, the way you did when you realized something beautiful had soured beyond repair.
You loaded up the AI program, Max’s settings set to the hardest mode. The muffled argument from the kitchen filtered through the walls. Your parents were at it again—voices low but tense, each word prickling at the air, growing louder with each moment.
“And what about last weekend? Who took Kendra to her recital while you were out playing golf with your buddies?” your mom accused, her tone biting.
“Oh, please, because I didn’t already spend hours making sure her car was fixed?”
You shifted your focus to the screen, finally blocking them out as you took off into the first lap. The AI Max was fast—just as aggressive as he was in real life, lunging to take the inside line at every turn, leaving barely an inch between his virtual tires and yours. You held on, matching his speed with ease, remembering every note, every trick you’d taught yourself just to keep up with him. Lap one down. You’d beat him.
“Oh, come on, Frank! If I had a dollar for every time you pulled that excuse,” your mom continued, voice muffled but unmistakable.
“Then go ahead, keep tallying, Liza. I’ve got a list a mile long if we’re counting grudges!” he fired back.
You reset the sim, sending the AI Max to challenge you again. The screen flashed, and you were off, Max’s virtual car zipping ahead as you pushed your own car to keep pace. The tension built lap by lap, each turn taking you closer to a victory over him—even if it was only a pixelated version. A feeling of triumph stirred in your chest as you overtook the AI at the final corner, winning another lap, then another.
Another loud clang from the kitchen pierced the air, followed by your mom’s frustrated,
 “Can we at least agree to stop shouting for once, Liz?”
“Sure, sure, until you find another reason to bite my head off,” 
But by now, it didn’t matter how loud they got; you couldn’t shake the realization sinking in as you felt the weight of the notebook in your lap. You’d beaten him here, again and again. 
Your gaze had dropped back to the pages in your lap, flipping through more of those pages, each one carrying fragments of that old adoration. Back when he was more than an opponent, back when he was someone you idolized, maybe even more than that. You felt your eyes burn as a tear slipped free, catching on your cheek.
You clenched the notebook tightly, fighting to shove down the wave of anger and resentment. When had it shifted? When had this fierce obsession turned into something ugly, something that kept you up at night, wanting nothing more than to knock him off that pedestal and destroy him?
The ache twisted deeper as you whispered, almost to yourself, 
“Why did you have to ruin it, Max?”
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The Abu Dhabi sunset cast an intense glare over the grid, heat rising from the track in waves as the entire circuit buzzed with anticipation. This was it—the final race, the decider. The season had been a brutal, relentless tug of war, and every inch you’d gained had been hard-won, paid for with countless hours and sacrificed peace. Yet all that melted into a charged, quiet tension as you stood on the grid, looking straight into the piercing gaze of Max Verstappen.
He looked calm. Unshaken. A flicker of something unnameable crossed his face as he watched you, that damn smirk just barely tugging at his mouth. It was the same cocky expression that haunted your memories, the one that lit the spark of anger you’d fanned all year. You looked back, hard, steady—fighting the urge to let your lips twist into something bitter. All you wanted, all you needed, was to cross that line first. To watch him falter, just once. You could almost feel the weight of the wish pressing into your chest, every quiet, secret prayer you’d ever made for him to fail. You wanted it so badly that it felt wrong—like holding fire too close to your heart.
Just let him crash, you thought. Just once. You closed your eyes briefly, wishing with all the intensity you’d buried over the years. It was twisted, immoral maybe, but you was past caring. This was yours to win.
The lights went out, and with a roar of engines, you launched forward, you world shrinking to the roar of your own car and the blur of track under your tires. Corner after corner, you battled, inches apart, daring each other to break first. Max was relentless, always in your mirrors, always pushing you to your limits. They danced around each other with a precision that spoke of rivalry, yes, but something more, too—years of watching each other, of studying each other’s moves like rival chess masters waiting for the inevitable mistake.
But it was Max who finally cracked.
A few laps from the end, as you watched him from your mirrors, you saw it happen in real time. He’d miscalculated, his car swinging out too wide, the split-second error sending him straight into the barrier. The force of it made you gasp, the sound of his car hitting the wall ripping through your chest, catching you off guard. Your hand tightened on the wheel, breath coming fast as the seconds dragged on.
“Is he . . . is he okay?” you asked, your voice shaky as you came through the radio. “Max? Is he okay?”
There was a pause, and then your engineer’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “He’s fine, Yn. Focus. Just bring it home.”
Those words, simple as they were, snapped you back into the race. The track blurred around you as you pushed, pushing yourself as hard as your car would allow. When you crossed the finish line, your screams rang out over the radio, your  engineer’s laughter joining you as the reality of it finally sunk in.
“Yn, you did it! You’re the champion!” he shouted, laughter bubbling over the line. “You are the world champion!”
“World champion!” You screamed, slamming your hands on the steering wheel in pure and overflowing euphoria. “Oh my God! We did it!”
You let out another whoop, a wild, unrestrained sound you didn’t recognize. Pulling into parc fermé, you climbed out, eyes bright as you leapt onto you car, your fists thrown in the air as cheers erupted around you. It felt surreal, everything you’d been fighting for finally, finally in your hands. Your team rushed toward you, their faces alight with joy as they lifted you up, your arms outstretched as you soaked in the moment, your heart swelling.
But as you turned to face the crowd, the energy draining just enough for clarity to creep in, your gaze locked on him. Max stood just outside the circle of people, his helmet still in hand, his expression unreadable. You almost froze, the swell of triumph slipping, replaced by something else. You forced yourself to look away, turning back to you team and pulling them in closer, their arms slung around your shoulders as they lifted you onto their shoulders, chanting your name. Their support grounded you, lifting you from the gnawing doubt you hadn’t expected.
As they set you down, your heart hammered, still buzzing from the race. But in that instant, you felt it—a pang of something like regret as you looked at him again, standing alone, just watching you.
Max took a small step forward, a soft, almost hopeful look in his eyes. “Congratulations,— Yn! Congrats—” he called out, his voice barely rising above the roar of the celebration around them.
But you didn’t move toward him. Your team pulled you back into their cheers, and you let yourself be swept up, allowing the thrill of victory to drown out everything else. As your team lifted you onto their shoulders. And as the cameras flashed, the crowd cheered, and your name echoed around the circuit, you held onto the knowledge that you’d won, even if a small, nagging voice reminded you that you’d left something behind in the process.
the Dutch national anthem now plays for you.
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this is the longest one shot I've written so far, someone hold me
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aurumalatus · 3 days ago
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𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟔]
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pairing. kinich x fem!reader
word count. 3.5k
genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, descriptions of blood and injury, panic attacks and anxiety
summary.
in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.
author's note. first off, sorry for the late chapter ;-; but the next chapter sort of marks the start to the second half of the story, so i hope you guys look forward to that! some parts of this chapter are a bit intense so please heed the warnings! please let me know if you enjoyed! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!
↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣
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𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗜𝗧'𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧
As you make slow progress toward recovery, Kinich can’t expel the image of you bleeding out from his mind.
The village doctor had rushed to your home, undeterred by the blanket of night falling over the land. The woman practically thinks of you as her own daughter, after all, with the amount of work you’ve done for her over the years. She stitches up your wound with a careful, practiced hand.
(Kinich stands at your side as it happens, your hand grasping his in a bone-crushing grip. He tries not to cry when you start to scream out in pain.)
She commits you to bed rest. You whine and argue against it. Kinich fights with you about it. You make up like you always do, but you stare longingly at the door every day when he leaves to work.
Time passes, and you do get better. He thanks the archons before he sleeps for that fact, truly.
But the guilt doesn’t cease. 
It prods at him in the dead of night, wrapping his stomach in knots as he tosses and turns. Even when he can hear your soft, even breathing across the room, a deep terror takes root in his chest. Nightmares lurk and haunt his rest, and sometimes, even when he wakes up, he has trouble believing that you’re still alive—it all feels too real when it’s in his head.
Even in reality, you’re decidedly…different. The weakness of your smile, of your hand in his—he can’t quite get used to it. It’s all part of your healing process, he knows that deep down, but he can’t shake the feeling that he had a role in all of this. 
On one night, the feeling of sin finally manages to gnaw through his chest.
He wakes up in a cold sweat, shirt sticking to him like a second skin. His blankets are already strewn about the floor, likely from his erratic movements. His gaze slides over to you, still peacefully resting, and he sags with relief. The pain keeps you awake sometimes, so it’s a miracle that you’re sleeping soundly for once.
With that in mind, he eases himself out of bed quietly, tiptoeing past you and into the hallway. He heads for the bathroom—a splash of cold water over his weary face might be just what he needs. The moonlight filters lazily through the window, uneven slivers painted over the wall. He yawns, letting the door shut behind him.
The mirror sits above the sink. 
It’s one of the more expensive things you have in your house, but you’d gotten it for a good deal at the flea market—Kinich had bartered for what felt like hours. You’d gushed over the artistry of it, the glass intricately framed with braided knots of silver. Kinich hadn’t really understood back then—a mirror is just a mirror, after all—but he’s not keen on saying no to you. He never has been.
His reflection stares back at him, haunting in the gloom. 
When he looks at himself like this, he sees his mother. He doesn’t really remember the sound of her voice anymore, but he remembers her eyes, her hair. So much of him had been inherited from her.
Most days, he tries not to think about where she might be—he doesn’t see a point in asking questions he’ll never know the answer to. But he does wonder if she thinks of him, if even for a fleeting moment of her day. Then, he wonders if she remembers him at all.
(Maybe she doesn’t want to.)
His reflection frowns.
Locks of dark hair shine in the lowlight, the streak of blond distinct against the plain backdrop. The paleness of it, even when braided back, still reminds him of his father. A flash of a rage-filled glare strikes through his mind.
“Kinich—Kinich, help me, please!”
The voice—
He chokes.
Kinich stumbles back from the mirror, the sight of his own reflection suddenly horrifying him. No matter where he moves, he can’t seem to escape it, golden eyes—no, his father’s eyes—following as he staggers around the room. A ghost’s frigid fingers grip around his shoulders.
It was his fault.
The room suddenly shrinks inward. Something icy and unseen grabs at Kinich’s heart and yanks until a struggling gasp is ripped from his lungs. The vase on the windowsill tips and cracks against the wall, shards skittering across the floor and water splashing against the backs of his calves. It’s shockingly cold, shooting shivers up his back and fraying his nerves.
Someone is screaming. His mother.
“Kinich?”
A faint voice reaches his ears, but he ignores it in favor of the thoughts pounding around his skull. The memory of his father’s corpse hangs at the edges of his mind. He looks back to the mirror, fingers curling into his hair, scratching at his scalp.
The blond streak is still there.
He sees his mother, begging and screaming, bruises littering her skin. Actually, she’s not screaming at all—he still can’t remember her voice. But she’s looking at him, grasping at his feet, and her lips are moving but he can’t hear—
“Kinich? Are you there?”
His hair—his father—seems to leap out at him, bursting from the mirror and grasping at his neck. The pressure leaves him scrambling to breathe. He thinks of the cliff, of his choice.
Echoes of footsteps pad down the hall, and he panics.
No, no. You’re going to see him, and you’re going to know what he’s done. You’re going to look at him with disgust and fear, and you’re going to leave. He hadn’t been enough back then, and he still isn’t now—no matter what he tries, nothing changes.
It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!
Another voice roars in his head, the hatred almost palpable with each syllable.
He clutches at his chest, desperately feeling for the heartbeat there—he feels like he’s dying, rotting from the inside out. His hand slams against the wall, nails digging painfully into the wood, clawing.
“Kinich?!”
Your voice comes again, more panicked now. You can probably hear the chaos from outside.
There’s no time.
He seizes the blond lock in his left hand, the right scooping up a ceramic shard from the floor and holding it to his head, right near the roots of the hair. He has to get rid of it—he’s panting, mouth dry and burning at the same time.
A firm knock on the door has him halting in his tracks—only a few strands of hair catch the sharp edge of the shard, floating uselessly to the ground. His chest heaves, uneven breaths puffing from his chapped lips.
He pauses. The shard clatters to the ground next to him, dropped from his grip. Slowly, he clambers to his feet. He brushes his clothes off once, then twice, before steeling himself to face you.
When the door swings open, it’s your face that greets him.
“Is everything okay?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. Hesitant, you reach for him—your shirt rides up with the movement, revealing starch-white bandages tinged with red. You’d irritated your wound in your panic to get to him.
He almost vomits at his feet.
He catches your hand before it reaches his cheek. He doesn’t deserve your comfort right now—maybe he never did. But your gaze is still so fond, so soft, as it falls upon his face.
“You haven’t been sleeping well,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his. A faint frown paints your lips, wrought with worry. The thought is almost ridiculous—you both have only been worrying about each other all this time. “What’s going on?”
And Kinich knows he should tell you. He should do a lot of things when it comes to you. He should tell you he’s sorry for everything he’s put you through, that he knows he’s not good enough for you right now but he hopes to be, that he hopes you’ll wait for him to be that person. 
But he doesn’t say any of that.
Instead, he lets a deep, shuddering breath escape him. The only way to repay everything you’ve given him over the years is to be strong. If he can protect you, he can be useful to you.
So he takes the weakness sprouting in his chest and crushes it in his hands, letting the ashes go. He’ll bury them with this night—starting tomorrow, he won’t worry you again. 
Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, brushing over your pulse point. The steady drum of your heartbeat brings him some semblance of comfort, at least. The weight of your stare lifts from his shoulders when he meets your gaze head-on.
“I’m fine, just knocked something over,” he finally chokes out. “Let’s go back to sleep.”
/
A few days later, the whispers of a rumor begin.
The sky is still reddened with dawn when he heads out, greatsword secured to his back. It’s newly-sharpened, courtesy of you. With your range of movement limited, you don’t leave the house much these days—you pass the time by cleaning and cooking, despite Kinich’s pleas for you to remain in bed. You’re antsy to do more, even while your healing progress slowly chugs along.
The outpost is already bustling by the time he shoves the door open, slinking inside. The place usually runs rampant with work, with people searching for deliveries or other odd jobs. They seek him out often, knowing how often he visits, and he welcomes the extra Mora. 
For some people, it’s a more social place—they enjoy a drink at the small bar between deliveries, chatting and laughing. There’s one such group already here, the clink of glasses audible even this early in the morning. Kinich’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the stench of alcohol.
On the back wall is the request board, a place for people to advertise any long-term jobs. Kinich favors these sometimes, on days where the weather is better, just so he can maximize the amount of Mora he takes home. When he makes his way over, there’s already another man scrutinizing the requests. Weathered papers dot the wall, some yellowed with age, some pristine white and newly-posted.
“Hey, kid,” the man greets. It takes Kinich a moment to realize it’s him he’s referring to—he offers a short nod in reply, a bit confused. Most people are familiar with him to an extent, but rarely do they try to interact.
He just starts to read another Saurian hunting job when the man speaks again.
“That earthquake a week ago…they found some ruins in the South. Rumor has it that it’s holding some kind of awesome treasure, and no one’s quite made it through yet.”
He gives Kinich a once-over, sweeping eyes reflecting a faint respect—his reputation precedes him, apparently. Kinich shifts his weight, arms crossed, a challenge. Seemingly pleased by his confidence, the man chuckles.
“I’ve heard you’re a strong one. If you’d like, we’d have you join our party.”
Kinich regards the man with his own criteria—he looks experienced, arms criss-crossed with scars as evidence of battles long won. But even Kinich himself is still young, so he knows years don’t equal strength.
“What’s in it for me?” he sighs, feigning boredom. “For all I know, I could head in there alone and not have to split the spoils.”
The man’s smile widens, practically splitting his face.
“I like your spunk, kid. How about this, if you make it all the way down there with us, I’ll even let you have first pick.”
Kinich ponders that for a moment—it’s not a bad deal. Though it’s not his preference, working in a group can make long-term investigations like this go much faster, and he suspects that he’ll be able to assess the value of whatever treasure they find better than anyone else. In short, he’ll be guaranteed the greatest share of Mora, without using all of his own personal effort. Objectively, it wouldn’t be his worst decision.
If he can make a good amount, he can buy one of those cakes you like from the market.
Your smile would be well worth it, he thinks as he shakes the other man’s hand.
/
The dangers of the ruins had not been overstated—even halfway through the place, Kinich finds himself matted with blood and grime, muscles aching with overuse. Already, many have turned back, and as many lives have been lost. Only a few remain, those desperate enough to see the task through to the end, resting in one of the safer areas before continuing deeper toward the treasure.
Kinich reaches back, testingly feeling the stone wall behind him—it’s damp, but stable, so he leans back against it, sliding down to sit on the ground. Even down here, flowers grow through the cracks in the stone, tenacious in their bloom. It reminds him of you.
He wonders if you’re resting well, if you’d stayed in bed like you promised. 
“You got a girlfriend back home?”
He flinches at the sudden address, and he turns to see the man next to him—he can’t remember his name—smirk and nod at his bandana. He’d been thumbing at it unconsciously, the only source of comfort in this dark, stinking place.
“I know a woman’s work when I see one,” the man chuckles.
Kinich wonders if he should mention that he actually taught you how to weave, then decides against it—he doesn’t really care what this man thinks anyway. Somehow, he doesn’t feel an urge to discuss your existence with strangers.
“No, I don’t,” he replies quietly instead, and it’s the truth. There’s no title between you two, nothing to define the course of your relationship—in fact, the closest thing would be something informal, like “roommate”. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
The older man observes the way Kinich gnaws at his lip, bothered, before offering a comforting pat on the back. It’s a bit friendlier than Kinich is used to, but he supposes it comes with the wisdom of age—somehow, the act reminds him of Elder Leik.
“Not a girlfriend, then, but something, right?”
Something feels wrong to say—too vague, too uninvolved. When he imagines the pulsing in his chest, it’s your hands cupping his heartbeat, holding the very core of him. 
Everything would likely be a more proper term.
His teeth grit, flashing in the dark.
“Sure, something like that.”
“You should tell her, you know,” the man sighs, leaning back against the wall. Kinich wonders how the man is practically reading his mind. “At least before you get old like me.”
Kinich knows he’s a bit more mature than other people his age, a result of his upbringing. And usually, it can be an advantage—he’s independent and self-sufficient, unlike most others. But it’s times like these that he wishes he would’ve lived a normal life, going to school and playing until dusk fell. Social skills have never been his strong suit, and he often finds himself saying the wrong things.
He can’t afford to do the wrong thing anymore when it comes to you.
It’s always been entirely unintentional, but these days, he can’t seem to do anything but hurt and disappoint you. And now you’re at home, alone, while he goes out and risks his life. Briefly, he ponders what would happen if he never made it home.
Would you cry? Would you move on?
Would you find someone else?
It’s hard for him to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t have you by his side. 
He wants to keep it that way. 
He really, really likes your smile.
Kinich finally turns to face the man next to him, jaw clenched with determination. The man smirks, seemingly expecting that reaction.
“Got somethin’ to say, kid?” he asks, raising a brow.
Kinich nods, staring down at his hands. 
“After this,” he affirms, more to himself than anyone else. “After this, I’ll tell her.”
/
And, as always, Kinich finds himself alone. 
He can’t exactly say what had happened to the others—then again, he hadn’t tried to look. Monsters seemed to leap at him from every turn, and he couldn’t focus on much more than his own survival. 
On his way back out of this place, he’s sure he’ll come across their bodies one way or another. He’ll try to give them a half-proper burial, he thinks. 
The ruins descended far further than he had expected—a pulsing warmth seems to emanate from this place, layering sweat over his forehead. A heady scent of smoke lies thick in the air, rising toward the unseen ceiling. Kinich has to be careful with his steps—the place is so weathered and worn, he fears that the floor might give out beneath him.
He isn’t sure what he expected to see at the bottom. Treasure doesn’t usually appear in cartoonish chests filled with shining gold coin, after all. But when he inspects the ruins around him, all he finds are pale stone walls with a single pedestal in the center.
Cautiously, he approaches, eyes sweeping for danger. If the treasure is something truly valuable, it wouldn’t be out of the question for it to be booby trapped in one way or another. But he walks up, each step light and gentle, and nothing happens.
He sheathes his sword, peering down at the treasure laying over the smooth stone. 
It’s a wristband, thick and engraved with a language he can’t understand.
The style of it is different than most he’s seen—somehow, it looks a bit more modern. But even historical fashion items don’t tend to sell for too much, he thinks in disappointment. 
Essentially, he’d wasted his time coming down here.
He picks up the wristband, inspecting the design of it. Then, tentatively, he slides it on.
A burst of heat cracks through the air.
“Who dares disturb the Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw?! Speak now, mortal, or I’ll pound your puny face in!”
A tiny, yellow, pixelated dragon bursts forth, and Kinich’s jaw just about drops. 
Treasure comes in many forms, of this he is sure, but this seems to be more of a burden than anything.
It—no, K’uhul Ajaw—whirls on him in apparent rage. Kinich can’t really tell with the ridiculous sunglasses sitting on his face.
“Hey, I’m talking to you! Is there a brain in that puny head of yours, or are you just deaf?”
Kinich sighs. Whoever had started this whole rumor must be having a great laugh at his expense.
“I can hear you,” he replies monotonously. “I just don’t particularly want to talk to you.”
Ajaw grows angrier. Kinich wonders if it’s just his default state.
“Then why did you come all the way down here? Are you stupid?!”
“Well, I was told there was some sort of powerful artifact here,” Kinich admits. He glances toward the ceiling, gauging how long it’ll take him to climb out of this place. “But it seems that they lied.”
Ajaw reddens in rage. “I’ll have you know that I am that artifact! My awesome power is beyond anything your mortal mind could possibly hope to comprehend!”
Kinich thinks it’s obvious why this dragon would’ve gotten locked in these ruins for so long—his personality is loathsome. Whoever sealed Ajaw likely had only done it to rid themselves of the grating sound of his voice.
Still, he can sense the deep thrum of potential within him. He’s likely not lying about having incomprehensible power.
Ajaw fixes Kinich with what he can only receive as a judgmental stare. 
“Why did you come all the way down here anyway? Are you looking for revenge? Trying to topple a nation?”
Ajaw proceeds to list a series of awful atrocities—Kinich zones out halfway through the war crimes. He’d come down here for Mora, but mostly, he’d come down here for you.
He thinks of your smile, and a pink flush washes over his face.
“I have someone I want to protect.”
It’s silent for a moment as Ajaw absorbs the implications of his explanation and the blush on Kinich’s face. Then, he laughs, a shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard.
“You come all the way down here seeking power, all to protect some puny, peasant, mortal girl—”
It’s quite an assumption, not that he’s necessarily wrong. Kinich’s jaw tightens.
“—don’t speak about her.”
A sobering chill crackles in the air, filling the cracks in the ruined stone and sinking onto his shoulders. Ajaw seems to feel it too—he hesitates at the pressure, suddenly devoid of his earlier haughtiness.
“...I see,” is all he replies, calculated.
Ajaw floats languidly towards Kinich, circling him. “Well, I’ll admit, I can sense something different about you. So, luckily for you, I’m willing to make a deal with you.”
The tone of his voice is laced with foreboding. Kinich crosses his arms, cautious.
“What kind of deal?”
Ajaw chuckles—the sound echoes hauntingly, running a chill down Kinich’s spine.
“Don’t be so scared,” he barks. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dying.”
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unformula1 · 2 days ago
Text
promises (ln4)
you and lando used to be best friends, but you two drifted apart. (1464 words) a/n: im back ! should i make a part 2?? || masterlist
You and Lando used to be friends. Best friends, one might say. The two of you were inseparable. Every Friday night, without fail, both of you would meet up at the playground near the central district of your hometown. The playground would usually be empty, with most children staying in with their parents. This gave you and Lando the whole playground, all to yourselves.
It was perfect to make the purest memories. Just two kids, pure innocence and naivety, and a friendship which felt like forever. You’d talk about which toy cars were the better ones, he’d always say the orange ones. You two would laugh about the silliest things, and promise each other to be friends forever. 
You two grew up together, went through the teenage years with each other, there in the highs and lows. Every Friday night became every night. You two would see each other daily, at the same playground. As both of you matured, so did your conversations, you two started talking about your love lives, your future.
Both of you sat on the ground, leaning against the wooden base of the slide which both of you used to ride together.
~~~
“I mean… It seems pretty cool.” You tell him.
“It is.” Lando confirms, “I’ve been doing it since I was a small kid, just zooming around.”
You chuckle as Lando mimics driving a go-kart.
“You see yourself driving them forever?” You ask, shifting closer to him.
“Hell yeah.” He replies confidently, not a single ounce of doubt in his voice.
“Alright then.” You smile, “Go for it.”
“You’ll be there right?” He asks you.
“I will. You’ll remember me right?”
“Yes.”
~~~
Both of you made promises, whether they were the shallowest things or the deepest feelings. He never left you alone, you never made fun of him for the quirky things he liked. He stood by you when the worst was brought upon you, when you cried about some stupid boy not liking you back, when you lost your only ticket to your dream university.
~~~
You sat on the floor of his room, wiping away the dried up tears on your face. You’ve never felt this vulnerable to anyone. He lays down next to you and props himself up onto his elbow, looking at you. You glance back at him as he fiddles with his hair. 
“Are you gonna keep staring at me?” You ask, letting out a soft chuckle as you continue to wipe off your tears.
“Sorry.” He replies, laughing a little, “They don’t deserve you anyway.” 
He sits up and shrugs.
“You could do better.” He deadpans.
Your lips curve up ever so slightly.
“Well-” You sigh, “I guess I’ll stay here forever.”
Both of you laugh again.
“So will I.”
~~~
But he didn’t. Lando Norris left the town in pursuit of greater things.
“You’re leaving?” The realisation hits you.
He sheepishly nods.
Your emotions are all jumbled up into one big mess, everything just engulfing your heart as tears start falling.
“Oh-” Lando says before hugging you tightly.
You hug him back, your tears staining his sweater.
“C’mon now… don’t get all teary on me.” Lando says, clearing stifling down sobbing sounds.
You can’t let out any words.
~~~
It finally came a few months later. You stood in the airport, face to face with Lando. You felt the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, letting all the memories from the youngest ages of childhood flow through your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.
He looks at you with his stupid little grin, his eyes getting watery as he purses his lips, taking in deep breaths. 
You run up to him and hug him, for what might be the last time ever. It’s a tight hug, one surrounded by years of friendships and years of memories all building up. He sobs on your shoulder, jerking slightly each sob as you grip tightly to him, never wanting to let go.
But you have to. Both of you take a step back. Lando takes out a necklace for you.
“For you.” He says, “I have a matching one.”
You sob violently and take the necklace, immediately putting it around your neck and holding onto it with a deathly grip.
He reaches out for your hand. Both of you hold hands for a few seconds, he closes his eyes once again as the tears traced his cheekbone and clung onto his jaw, trickling down slowly.
“We’ll stay in contact.” He says softly in between heavy sobs as he pulls you in one last time, patting you on the back.
“We better.” You crack a joke which makes him giggle. He nods more and pats your shoulder.
The moment has to come to an end eventually, with a heavy heart he takes a step back. He looks you in the eyes one last time and you stare at his brown-blue glistening eyes which sparkled.
You’ll miss those.
You’ll miss him.
You’ll miss all of this.
As he enters the boarding gates, he looks back at you again, smiling slightly at you as he waves slightly. You look back at him, wishing you could be there with him, flying somewhere same. Something wants you to run up to him and hold on tight to him but you stay put, waving goodbye to him. 
He holds up the necklace and smiles at you, you smile back at him, choking through the tears which suffocate your lungs as the sting in your throat resurfaces. You hold the necklace up to him too and for the last time, he nods at you, turning around and slowly disappearing from your view.
You stand there. 
What do you do now?
What are the weekly nights reserved for now?
Will you ever see Lando again?
———
The nights felt empty and missing a piece, because they were. You missed sitting with him in the cool breeze of the evening or in the dim lights of the nearby stores, talking about things that you would never tell anyone else. You missed all of it, every single angry, sad, happy, nostalgic moment. It was hard to change your entire life, you called him and texted him every single waking minute of your life and he did so too. However, it never felt the same. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night just to imagine he was there with you again and your tears would involuntarily come trickling down again. 
Eventually, you got used to it, like you do.
The years past much quicker than you imagined. You watched Lando grow from a young karter to Formula 1 driver. Sometimes you catch yourself watching his races and other times you see his face in the billboards across town.
You don’t know if he remembers you but both of you practically lost contact after you two stopped texting a few years back. It was rough. Both of you made each other the world, you made him your world. Absolutely nothing was going to stand in your way, but time took its path, and fate drew its sword. It was something that you could never change no matter how hard you tried. Even with empty days and sleepless nights just pretending and wishing and hoping that something would happen. It wouldn’t. 
So you had come to peace with it, he was just another passing chapter in your life, meeting once and never again, ingrained in the stone of life.
You were proud of him, for making it this far. You really were. Nothing would ever make you wish anything but the best for him; after all, he was the biggest boy in your life at one point, and nothing would change that. You were incredibly happy for him, for how much effort he’d put into this, he deserved everything. You even watched him win his first race in Miami.
You shed a tear or two. The memories of everything flooding back into your head, just remembering Lando as a young kid saying to you he’d take over the world. He did. You were proud.
But you weren’t there.
Were the promises you made all empty? Just passing in the moment to be carried by the wind and never to be seen or heard ever again?
You sat on the couch watching him take the top step of the podium, holding up the trophy as the sunlight serenaded his face. The familiar sparkle of his eyes stood out to you, it was like when he left. This time his tears were happy ones. 
Your tears were bittersweet.
A few hours pass and a chime from your phone gets you off your couch and reaching for your phone.
You got an Instagram DM, from landonorris.
278 notes · View notes
occamstfs · 18 hours ago
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Halloween Bacchanal
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Greek god of madness just wants to see some fun this Hallow's Eve- what better place to start than with little Theo and his satyr costume.
Happy Halloween! Here's my take on everyone's favorite Halloween TF trope: men dressed as satyrs, knights, cowboys and more become what they wear at this hedonistic Halloween party! Hope you enjoy! - Occam
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Greek mythology has been an obsession of Theo’s as far back as he could remember. From what his parents say he would force them to read him myths rather than fairy tales before bed each night before going on to spend his waking hours punching way above his literacy level to indulge in every scrap of the Hellenistic pantheon he could stumble across. His dreams were filled with visions of himself aiding Hermes in his tricks and cheering on Heracles in his trials.
It’s no surprise that his time spent in this mythological world influenced his sexuality. What with all the muscular men and tales of transformation he ravenously consumed it doesn’t take a detective to follow the throughline to his present self. In fact he can clearly remember stumbling on a far too steamy illustration of a satyr right when he was about that age that clearly had some deep-rooted repercussions. Which, no surprise, brings him to his current Halloween costume.
He never thought he’d have the confidence to dress up as one but what the hell right? It’s what halloween’s for, just a spot of fun and indulgence. Once he finally decided on biting the bullet and dressing up as his root and began construction on his little costume it’s like he was possessed. Hands worked deftly sewing goat legs and sculpting horns and hooves and before he knew it he was finished before he even realized he had begun.
When the party finally arrived he found himself walking on his toes with a shocking ease, though despite the apparent expertise, his knees began to shake more with each step towards his friend’s apartment. Theo takes a deep breath before knocking on the door, sweating despite the chilly air of autumn against his bare skin. Before he does so the door creaks open and Theo’s greeted by a man he’s never seen before.
Man is almost too inconsequential to describe him. As soon as Theo’s eyes land on him he feels content to spend every waking moment for the rest of his life simply staring at this figure. Dark skin somehow glimmering in the dim light, his teeth sparkle as his lips pull into a smirk. He then turns his gaze onto, into, Theo. It’s as if he were looking through the costumed man, languishing in his past and imagining his future, taking in everything Theo has been, is, and will be. And before a moment passes he shifts to look Theo directly in the eyes, raising a hand to cup his head as if it were a glass, he rumbles out, “I love your costume dear.”
His touch is electric to Theo’s skin, or no not electric, magnetic. The fingers clutching the young man’s jawline leave him wanting more, needing more. Despite feeling frozen in the gaze of this too-ideal figure he craves more than anything to be closer. Lost in his desires, Theo flinches as his ability to ambulate returns and the figure in front of him laughs as he plays with his words, “Dear- Or should I say faun Ah Hah!” Barely a joke, but as the figure begins guffawing Theo cannot help but reciprocate. Compulsive, heaving roars of laughter fill him with ecstasy and delight as memories of raucous nights and impossible debauchery soar into his mind. More real than reality he sees himself with a cup of wine in hand standing in audience of the man now before him.
Just as soon as it began, his laughter jarringly stops and he pulls Theo close and whispers in his ear, “Call me D.” Theo gasps as he is brought closer to D’s form and the intensity of his delight only continues to heighten. Every inch of his exposed torso is suddenly burning with intense pleasure and he shivers as his neck is grazed by D’s sticky breath. In a moment briefer than Theo is able to even grasp, a thought flickers across D’s expression before he looks down at him and his eyes glow a vibrant violet. D stretches his back, doing something between a shrug and a warm-up. Theo trembles at the feeling of his powerful traps and delts moving, allowing him to feel the power they hold as the men stand in each other's grasp.
D once more grabs Theo’s chin, this time angling it up as he cranes down to meet the party-goer’s lips. It’s not quite right to say the kiss was explosive but Theo has no better way of understanding it. It’s as if he were being suffused with power, as if the man’s lips were casting a spell, as if he were drinking in a force of pure energy. Physically, his taste buds are overwhelmed with the taste of wine, richer than any he’s had the chance to experience heavy and sweet and greater than anything. 
Theo, sure that he’s dreaming, clutches the man tighter as their lips and tongues continue to dance. If D’s laughter instilled him with memories, their kiss infused something far more real in his mind. Mouth awash with wine, touch burning with pleasure from being lucky enough to touch the man’s powerful form, Theo opens his eyes and rather than seeing the world he knows he was in, he sees D tied up on a ship. Before he can make sense of his surroundings the man breaks from his bonds and the men who must be his jailers flee, hopping overboard before D waves his arms and they are no longer men. He knew the true name of D as soon as wine graced his tongue but it is further confirmed by a vision of him carrying his mother from the mouth of a cave before he sees her apotheosis. He sees grapevines sprouting from arid earth and finally sees the man, the god, bestowing Midas’ golden touch.
These are all brief passages however, pauses in between the meat of Theo’s visions. Accompanied by D, by Dionysus’ laughter, Theo sees hordes of satyrs and nymphs dancing in fields and in forests. He sees wine dripping through thick beards and staining hairy chests. Theo watches revelry devolve into madness as festivities rapidly degenerate from dances to orgies in grass fields. Shifting to an aristocratic masquerade he sees a crowd of straight-laced prim and proper nobles spin in clearly practiced circles until Dionysus, sitting at the main table, rolls his eyes and removes his mask. Calling their attention to himself as soon as they glance in his direction they are changed, filled with bestial need as they return to their partners with an animalistic fervor. 
Theo knows these visions should fill him with fear, they are far too real to be dreams. Despite that, despite himself, the scenes only excite him more. He doesn’t know why the god has chosen to show him these events, why he has chosen him, but then he realizes he doesn’t care. He just needs to experience the same. His chest quivers with struggled breaths as he feels consciousness waning as he lies in the god’s arms. With a blink he sees D’s face once more, clearly experiencing more pleasure than Theo could ever offer. His vision begins to fade and his body goes limp in the god’s arms. Theo sees some look of care in D’s eyes that is promptly wiped away with a wink. Smirking, he whispers to Theo, “Hope you lot have fun with my gift-”  The sound of the god’s laugh echoes through his empty mind, lulling him to sleep while whatever gift Dionsysus intends for the party festers within him.
When Theo awakens the party is in full swing. He remembers meeting D clearer than anything but everything between that moment and now is obscured. He feels a wet patch in his crotch and quickly crosses his legs to hide the mess made in his excitement. Seeing that he’s finally awoken, his friend Kevin, clad in a cowboy costume, walks over and greets him. “Yoo dude what’s up! Glad you could make it, you know it’s a costume party though ya? Hahah!” Theo narrows his eyes, preparing to call out his friend for being so drunk as to not see the horns on his head before he feels for them and realizes that they are no longer on his head. Indeed, glancing at his crossed legs he finds he’s fully not wearing the costume he so intently made. 
Clutching at his chest, his face burns with embarrassment as he so clearly remembers working up the confidence to come here without a shirt on and yet, here he is just wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Seeing his friend rapidly nearing tears Kevin puts his drink down and apologizes, “Hey hey buddy- Sorry I didn’t mean to press you. Do you want to go get some fresh air?” Theo sighs looking at Kevin’s outstretched hand, pouting for a second longer before reaching out to grab it. Never could he truly know what he is about to unleash when he takes it.
How could he, he was still under the impression that his little episode with Dionysus was just that, an episode. Some weird little dream that led to him cumming on a friend's couch like a loser. That is, until Kevin grasps his hand and grows glassy-eyed. Natural color briefly overtaken by a lilac haze, Theo is immediately concerned, “K- Kevin? Did you get some, um weird contacts?”
His friend shakes his head, not out of his stupor but further into it. He clears his throat and his voice is unmistakably deeper, rougher, “Now why’d I go and do somethin’ like that partner?” Theo feels the hand in his own thicken and grow calloused as tanner skin leaks up his forearm. Hair pokes out of Kevin’s wrist, rapidly thickening and growing dark as it matches pace with his increasingly sun-kissed arm. He breaks the handhold and Theo falls back in shock. Kevin stretches and whistles as biceps bulge under his costume which similarly changes texture from cheap linen to dense torn cotton that one would need in his line of work. His line of work?
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“Whoooee! Maybe we’ll skip the fresh air eh Theodore? Love to see what else yew can do with those hands.” Theo stutters as the man starts rubbing his back, “I- You-” Kevin’s jaw widens and grows thick stubble as his brow hangs lower over his eyes, a piece of wheat lolls out of his mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Theo pushes away and the cowboy raises a hand in surrender while adjusting his large belt buckle with the other, “‘Ey now no problem amigo, we’ll put a pin in it. Check back in after spreading the love-” He scratches his newly stubbled jaw and tug once more at his crotch as an unmistakably growing package begins to need far more room than his chapped levis could allow. Staring at a man holding a few swords with shoddily sprayed green hair, Theo almost swears he can see Kevin’s dick throb as he begins tugging at his belt.
The young man doesn’t have time to question whatever unthinkable thing he just did to Kevin as he is struck with a headache greater than anything he’s experienced before, as if something were pushing its way out of his head. Throbbing with pressure he clutches at his head and feels two bumps forming and his eyes widen in fear as he remembers the parting words of the olympian, hope you lot have fun with my gift- Across the room Theo hears the voice of the swordsman grow gruffer as Kevin puts an arm on his shoulder. He hasn’t a chance to investigate as itchiness begins to rise across his body. 
Theo quickly lurches to his feet and finds it difficult to keep his heels on the ground, as if he has always walked on the tips of his toes. He grunts and keeps his head down, trying to not draw attention to himself as he stumbles to the bathroom. He bumps into another party goer wearing a homemade spiderman costume who grabs him before he can fall. 
Fearful that he’s introduced another point of impossible contagion into the party, he looks up and confirms his fears as the padded muscle disappears to be replaced by the hardened abs and arms of a superhero. The man takes off the mask to reveal he’s Theo’s friend Mark, though eyes exposed Theo can’t help but see the lavender corruption in his taking over as his hair throws itself into a middle-part. Grunting as he inches taller, his other web-shooter begins to poke into his friend. Theo runs before he hears whatever smarmy one-liner falls from the lips of a man whose name is Mark no longer.
Miraculously the bathroom is unoccupied when he stumbles in, painstakingly ensuring that his heels stay on the floor with every step. As soon as Theo crosses the threshold he is overwhelmed with a burning itch. Before he even has a chance to check his reflection he’s filled with a supernatural urge to remove his shirt. Ceding to the impulse he no longer sees the unimpressive chest he woke up with this morning, pecs have begun to pad his chest while his few chest hairs have begun to spread like weeds in its center. He clutches at the new pounds of meat piling onto his form and bites back a moan as it fills him with visceral pleasure as his fingers trail through the field of chest hair that is growing thicker. 
Only then does he turn his eyes to the mirror and discover that the changes are not limited to his newly-muscled chest. While hair continues to trail down his thicker torso to his similarly strengthening stomach, the hair on his head begins to lengthen and curl as two horns begin to rise above them. His shaky hands go to tug them off as if they were an accessory which only causes his neck to jerk. Leaning in close he parts his hair and clearly sees the keratin growing forth from his skull. Beyond his new spikes he has somehow missed the darkening of his face as just like Kevin, stubble has begun to make its home on his cheeks. Rapidly growing sideburns shoot down his jawline as a real goatee lengthens on his chin.
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In shock he falls back against the wall of the bathroom, accidentally losing his footing and catching himself standing on the balls of his feet like he has so pointedly tried to avoid. No longer is it possible to force his heels down as his toes are overtaken by the transformation, hardening and becoming impossibly imobile as they are covered with black keratin. New hooves burst out of his shoes while his pants begin to stretch at an odd angle from legs changing beneath them. 
Falling to the floor Theo cries out as he tears at the pants he swore he didn't throw on as his legs irrevocably leave humanity behind. Voice pitching deeper and shifting rougher as his thicker hands struggle against his clothes, he feels the new treasure trail on his stomach thicken as it rises from a bush of pubes so dense that they could be labeled nothing other than fur.
While his hands are unable to make progress tearing at his pants, his growing thighs make light work of the garment as they begin to flourish with fur, rapidly covering with curls thick enough to totally burst the tight pants to tatters. His hands trail upward from his hairy legs, feeling the forest of fur give way to the thick human hair that covers the rest of his torso. He blushes imagining finally becoming a creature he always dreamed he could be.Thick hair trails down his forearms and the smell of the wild rises from pits to be evermore unwashed. His hair continues to lengthen and tangle as he truly becomes a spirit of the wild, a spirit of unchained lusts and unending gaiety.
Rubbing his sweaty body against the floor, hearing his new hooves clatter against the tile, Theo feels his mind begin to be overrun with the instincts and ideas of a creature whose primary goal is the spreading of mirth and the heightening of hedonistic desires. Fear of what he wrought upon Kevin and whatever other transformations launched on the other side of the door falls completely to the wayside as the idea suddenly does nothing but increase his own excitement, his own lustful desires. Groping at the decidedly still human cock hanging in between his thick thighs, Theo finds himself certainly more gifted in this department as well, heavy balls send lustful hunger coursing through him while his new powerful rod stands high and drips with pre. Theo smirks as sweat more powerful than any aphrodisiac trickles from his pores and he stands to a new height.
Were he to exit he would stand a few heads taller than anyone else fortunate enough to be in a room with him, his cock would be fencing with their torsos, and something within him tells him that it’s not beyond him to grow even more formidable. Though latching onto that idea, he realizes the true nature of the gifts bestowed unto him. He instead shifts into a form more enticing to whatever partygoers remain that need further enticing. The new satyr hides his beastier parts and watches as his reflection seamlessly shifts into that of a wild man whom no one would be able to turn down.
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His hairy torso still glistens with sweat while he trades his hairy legs for sweatpants that could scarcely hide the powerful package hanging from his crotch. Smirking at his new form, Theo steps out to see what has become of his new domain. Exiting back into the steamy gathering he finds that festivities have not slowed down in his absence. The crowd around the cowboy has multiplied and devolved into quite the intimate pile of bodies, muscled arms and deep moans shoot through the air as every outsider that the horde bumps into finds the idea of joining rather appealing. He sees a man dressed as a caveman beating his chest as weight piles on and instincts take over.
Likewise the costumed superhero that was once Mark has found a crowd of his own. Mask pulled up over his mouth to find dozens of other costumed men wanting for him. Even before he changed he was charming, and now with a body made for the big screen it’s no wonder the crowds are clamoring for him. Though he hasn't the time to spend nearly as much time as his fans desire, after the shortest of moments spent with the amazing man himself they likewise begin filling out. Costumed congregants soon enough find themselves more than willing to spread their gifts with any number of lolling mouths around them.
Theo’s hungry eyes and wanting cock feel the compulsive awareness that there remain attendees deliberately avoiding the pleasures that await them. Point in case, he turns to the balcony to find one of his friends, Peter, dressed up as a knight and hiding from true jubilation. Theo’s lips twitch as he imagines corrupting his bookish friend into someone that can finally let loose.
Prior to the party the two discussed their costumes at length. Both spent a good chunk of energy and care in preparation, Peter’s dressed as his longtime DND character. Just like with Theo, the costume had long been a fantasy for the young man. That is to say, isn't it only fair that he get to experience the real thing just like the satyr? Theo doesn’t hesitate to answer the question as he makes his way towards his friend. Peter jumps as the sliding door creaks open and his friend steps out onto the balcony.
“Jesus- oh? Theo? Is that you?” The satyr smirks as he sees Peter’s anxious eyes appraise him. He contorts his body in just the right ways to get the paladin off his guard, stretching to show the power that rests within him rather than simply flexing. Inviting Pete to wonder what this new form is capable of rather than simply performing a brash display of brutish strength.
Peter blushes though remains guarded, “I um, I thought you were dressing up as a satyr?” Theo tilts his head before laughing at having forgotten his glamor, with the flick of his hand horns return to his head and Peter once more jumps back, though now facing the satyr this sends him far too close to comfort to the lip of the balcony.
Seeing Peter bump against the railing, any playful plans of slowly bringing him into his own euphoric transformation vacate as he instead moves with inhuman speed and pulls the paladin close to him. The clink of Pete’s chainmail and plate echoes on the balcony as the sound of the party behind the two men fades from their ears. Everything in the world around them is instantly muted and dulled besides each other.
Peter’s eyes grow clouded as he has no choice but to inhale breath after breath of the wild man’s sweat as he’s held close. Theo watches his eyes start to flicker violet like the dozens of other men in attendance. He grimaces and clenches at the neck of his armor as he grows unreasonably warm. “Th- Theo. What’s happening to me-” spit trails from his mouth as the metal of armor begins to grow heavier as it turns into the real hammered iron chestplate that a paladin of his station would be expected to wear. He stammers out for help and begins clawing at the suit now too heavy for him to wear, and Theo is more than happy to help.
The satyr feels his hunger for the man in front of him grow with every inch of further revealed skin. Sweaty chest now exposed, Pete’s heaving breaths begin stretching his ribcage larger. When Theo’s hairy hands begin to creep into his kilt Pete pushes the man away despite his own wanting cock begins to stir. This isn’t right, something horrible is happening. 
Theo steps back, resigned to just watch for now, and Peter goes to scratch at his arm as a nervous tic. Only then does he notice the great changes that have begun to overtake his physical form. With each movement, small as they may be, his biceps have begun to pulse larger, veins trail down new meaty arms that rival the size of his head. Powerful biceps and defined traps demonstrate his prowess in combat without his even needing to pick up the sword.
His chest tightens as he sees his hands twitch and bulge larger, calluses forming from training for hours, for years, for longer than he could recall spending on anything. His new rough hands race to his scratch at his torso, to remove a costume he’s no longer wearing, but they only find more evidence of growth. Under his chin pecs have clearly burst into existence, below them meticulously carved cobblestone abs that would make any lord proud. 
His lavender eyes twitch as the idea strikes him like a club, he’s losing his mind as well. Theo continues patiently watching and waiting for his chance, not to strike but to personally usher Pete into the bacchanal, and as the knight tears off his codpiece to make room for the surging cock beneath it’s clear that moment is rapidly approaching. Tearing off greaves and gauntlets he roars as his neck thickens from that of a modern squire to a proper knight of old. Voice deepening and growing resonant enough to shout orders and taunt those he is to meet at the other end of a blade.
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Speaking of blades, returning to the present as his jaw sharpens he sees quite the specimen standing in front of him. Peter’s cock easily pokes through his skirt and stands like a beacon as he ravenously desires the spirit of sex standing opposite. The knight is more than eager to meet the satyr on a decidedly different kind of battlefield than he’s used to. As soon as Theo sees the throbbing cock he pounces and the two enjoy their new forms together on the balcony, in view of the party and the city. Deep, wild moans of pleasure echo through the streets as Theo traces battle scars on the knight's form and Peter tugs at patches of hair that cover the satyr. 
Inside, the festivities have devolved into precisely the orgy that the god of revelry and madness had hoped. Cowboys and Spidermen using their webs and lassos to quite creative ends, demons finding the new nerve endings in tails and horns, werewolves truly unleashing the beast and finding more than common ground with vampires who are likewise finally sucking something other than blood. Briefly checking in, he’s pleased that the satyr found his way to the armor wrapped gift intended for him,  fingers crossed Aphrodite doesn’t mind his brief step into her domain. But more than that he can’t wait to see where the satyr goes from here, after all, his gifts don’t stop on November first- once a sex spirit always a sex spirit. Theo’s going to find people lining up all the time to experience the reverie he now inherently offers. As the night goes on and the pair rejoin the party it becomes clear that he is not to mind. 
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aventurineswife · 2 days ago
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Reader speaks sometimes in their native language when they are frustrated/excited/in the middle of a rant switch languages. And it intrigues Aventurine, who secretly starts to learn the language too, just to listen in secret.
One day, maybe during a light argument between them, reader drops a cuss word that does translate to "f*** you" and aventurine takes this moment to reply, while grinning from ear to ear "oh? Youre offering for once?"
Stunned silence.
Reader starts freaking out in their native language while aven just stands there with that shit eating grin.
Established relationship. No, they never done the deed, but he wanted to catch reader by surprise, and he did. He so proud of himself.
“You think you’re clever, but just remember: I’m one step ahead”
Summary: You and Aventurine are sharing a relaxed afternoon, and a playful argument about his so-called "inspirational mess" turns into teasing banter. When your frustration leads you to mutter in your native language, Aventurine—who’s secretly been learning it—seizes the chance to tease you in return. Caught between embarrassment and laughter, you realize he’s been one step ahead, and Aventurine is all too proud of himself for the surprise.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Playful Banter, Lighthearted Argument, Language Barrier, Teasing, Humor.
Waring: Slight Swearing.
A/N: THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY REQ!! I LOVE IT HONESTLY!! 🤭 (As someone's who's native language is not English, this is very funny and cute at the same time🥹🤧like imagine your s/o learning your language just so you can communicate freely or learn what you have been saying 🤭🫶💖🥹)
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You’re both lounging around his suite on a lazy afternoon, a stack of paperwork untouched as the conversation somehow spirals into an easy back-and-forth about each other’s quirks. It’s all lighthearted and playful, but it doesn’t take long before you’re teasing him for his incredibly deliberate way of never quite cleaning up his cards and dice, always keeping them just a bit scattered, “for inspiration,” he claims.
“Inspiration, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe my inspiration would be higher if I didn’t trip over your cards every time I’m here.”
Aventurine raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m telling you, darling, you can’t rush art! It’s all about atmosphere.”
“Atmosphere?” you scoff, switching to your native tongue as you get more animated. “More like a mess that you just want me to overlook!”
He smirks, feigning offense. “My ‘mess’ is a masterpiece—unlike someone’s habit of muttering incomprehensibly every time they don’t get their way.” he teases, with that knowing look in his eyes. He’s clearly waiting for you to switch languages again.
You roll your eyes, slipping into your native tongue almost instinctively. “Maybe if you weren’t so infuriatingly full of yourself, I wouldn’t have to mutter at all.”
Aventurine chuckles, his grin only widening. “Full of myself?” he repeats, pushing back just enough to keep the mood light. “Look who’s talking—every time you walk into this room, you practically take over.”
“Take over? Oh, please,” you huff, slipping deeper into your language as you mutter, “if anything, I’m saving this place from turning into a pigsty.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the right moment, and finally, you let slip a particularly choice phrase—a cuss word that, in your language, translates a little too directly to “fuck you.”
He seizes the opportunity, his face lighting up with a triumphant grin. “Oh? You’re offering for once?”
The world goes still. You blink at him in shock, the realization dawning as your mind scrambles. He understood you—completely. Your cheeks flush, and before you can help it, you’re sputtering in your native language, tripping over words and trying to make sense of how he even learned it.
Aventurine just stands there, that infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face, arms crossed in satisfaction. “Surprised?” he drawls, clearly reveling in your stunned reaction. “Turns out you’re not the only one with hidden talents.”
You start freaking out, half-laughing, half-ranting in your language, swearing at him all over again. He just chuckles, standing back and drinking it all in, proud as ever for catching you off guard.
“Oh, please,” he says with a chuckle, “keep going—I’m starting to enjoy these rants.”
You cover your face, torn between embarrassment and laughter, and finally shake your head. “One day, I’m going to get you back for this.”
He leans closer, his voice low and challenging. “I’ll be waiting, darling.”
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madamechrissy · 3 days ago
Text
Keep This Low Key
💜 Pairings: Choso x Fem reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI
💜 Contents/Warnings: Choso isn't super submissive like most stories, but he is a sweetheart and a doll baby! Has a tongue ring for reasons. In this chapter, fingering, cunnilingus, making out, sexual tension, friends w/benefits
💜 Word Count: this chap - 9.4k
💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea.
Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other? No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?
✨️ Split POV, Mostly Reader but also Choso at the beginning <3 Comments and reblogs appreciated ✨️
💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜 (still in progress)
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Chapter One
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Choso’s POV
“What do you mean, you don’t want to be with me anymore?” Choso asks that cold fall night, voice breaking as he looks over at Yuki, who is standing in front of that movie theater, the one they had planned to go see tonight, and she’s all dressed up, her blond hair swishing as she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, Choso, you’re sweet but… there’s someone else I have feelings for, you’re a doll, really, but… I’m interested in him more. I never wanted to hurt you, but this was just something casual to me.” Choso breaks down then, feeling emotions wreck him, his heart thrumming in his chest, blood rushing through his veins.
“But I am falling for you, Yuki. Please.” He takes her hands then, and she sighs, Choso feels his world crumbling. “I thought you felt the same?”
Yuki looks into his violet eyes, frowning. “Fuck I feel like shit for this. But no, Choso for me it was just fun, you’re not my type exactly.”
He blinks his long dark lashes then, full lips setting seriously now at her words. “Not your type?”
“You’re gorgeous, sweet, so soft… I just need someone a little harsher, a little more manly, I’m sorry.”
He scoffs then, raising a dark brow. “Not manly, remember how I had you screaming my name over and over?” His voice is a low whisper, and he watches her reaction to them, but clearly not enough to matter.
“Well, you certainly are good at that.” Her pretty face blushes, her brown eyes looking away, and Choso starts to feel such anger, his heart clutched by her mean hands, he’d been falling for Yuki for some time now. They’d been together six months, that was not nothing and she so casually is tossing it aside.
“What did I do wrong?” He asks, his voice breaking in the middle. She is sighing then, as people walk in and out, arm in arm.
Yuki was the only girl Choso had ever been with, after having pined away for her for all of college, and finally he thought she gave him a chance. He gave all of his attention to her, even not spending time with his best friend, you, who he misses so much, because Yuki was so insecure about you.
He still tried to keep in touch and even bought you coffees and would hand them to you as he walked by your work every morning. You had been his best friend since middle school, he couldn’t not have you in his life. However your boyfriend also seemed insecure about your friendship with Choso, so there was some sad realization from both of you as you smiled so pretty and thanked him every morning.
That you all were so close it intimidated both of your significant others.
Choso had spent countless nights with you on the couch with him, watching movies, throwing popcorn at each other’s mouths to catch. Some nights you’d take his bed, and he’d sleep on the couch, other nights you’d both pass out and wake up awkwardly laughing, perhaps you’d drool, or Choso would snore. But that was all it was, friendship.
There was a time he’d wanted more, and he’d tried to tell you so many times, but you had been enamored with a boy at school, his name was Satoru, some popular white haired jock you had a thing for. You’d been in love with him all of high school in fact, so Choso had eventually let it go, the thought of more, and focused on truly being your friend. And friends only.
Then he’d seen her in Senior year, Yuki, and he’d had it so bad for her, she was so strong and feisty and enamored him. You eventually realized Gojo was not interested in you more than casually, and you had brought up something that he’d stopped, and he wishes he didn’t. He remembers it so clearly.
‘Cho, I have something to confess.’ You’d said softly, as Choso had been waiting for Yuki to come out of her class, so that he could invite her to the last dance of the school year.
‘Hey angel, what is it?’ He’d asked as he smiled at you, so pretty in your school uniform, surely by now you and Gojo were an item he figured, he didn’t know then that Gojo had hurt you.
‘Why haven’t we ever tried to… um, date? Am I not your type?’ You’d asked, looking down nervously at your Mary Janes. Choso’s mouth dropped open, for four years he had dreamed of those words, but now…
Now it felt a little too late, he was so enamored with Yuki, and you were his best, dearest friend in the world, he’d made himself resigned to that. “But you’re in love with Gojo?’
‘I thought I was, but Cho I think-’ Yuki had walked out then, and Chose had ruffled your hair and kissed your head, running after her like a lovesick puppy, just like you had with Gojo for so long.
Choso wished he’d have done that differently, but at that point he’d had feelings for Yuki, so both of you decided to stay friends, forever, no matter what, but what were you going to say? How would that have changed…
And shit, now he needs his best friend, as the girl he’s fallen so hard for so casually breaks his heart. He feels tears drip out the corners of his eyes, brushing them carefully with his thumbs, which have black nail polish chipping just a bit. Yuki sighs, shifting side to side and stepping up to Choso then, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t cry, shit… I could go about this nicer I guess. Choso Kamo, you’re a great guy, you really are, and I had fun. A lot of fun. But I need someone more serious, not in some silly rock band, I’m really sorry.” He glares then, jaw locking, as Choso’s band had certainly been doing very well, and getting much bigger. But Choso also worked his ass and made good money too.
Choso had his own house and had taken care of his little brother Yuji by himself, even putting him in college, when their grandparents who raised them passed away. He was focused on his music more lately now that Yuji was not with him, but he still made sure to have a savings, and lived pretty comfortably in his own place.
“I am serious, you’re giving me excuses about me being the problem, when it’s pretty clear you just… had someone in mind.” His brows draw together, as he brushes his hair back, half up in a bun tonight. Yuki opens her mouth to say something when a car drives right up, and it’s Suguru Geto who rolls his windows down in his silver sports car.
Choso knows Suguru from high school, Satoru Gojo’s best friend, Choso was cool with him but certainly not close. He looks at the two of you, dark eyes darting back and forth, before sinking back in his seat awkwardly. Choso’s violet eyes are wide as he stares at Yuki now, who’s biting her lower lip nervously, a hand on Choso’s shoulder again, gently.
“I’m sorry, Cho.”
“Don’t call me that.” He takes her hand off gently, he wants to smack it off but he can’t treat a lady like that, even if she’s currently awful.
“I’m sorry, man I came early I guess.” Geto says from his car, and Choso scoffs as he looks back at Yuki.
“Really, you’re not just leaving me, you’re leaving me with the man you’ve been hot for since high school?”
“Look, I am sorry. Maybe you can understand?” She says, as Choso blinks rapidly at her audacity, scoffing.
“Ouch.” Suguru says, and Choso is close to punching him, clenching his fists, covered in black rings and tattoos. Suguru was who Yuki had been in love with forever, Choso knew that, but he thought it was long gone. Suguru had moved to run a family business a year or so ago. “I’m sorry, man.”
“I don’t want to hear from you.” Choso says then, through his teeth, as he feels the situation overwhelming him, nothing about the cool night air can chill him, his skin on fire. “Go then, if that’s what you want.”
“Choso, maybe we can be friends one day? I’m so sorry.” She says then, and he laughs, covering his face, shaking his head.
“No. You’ll never be my friend.” He turns and walks away as he has to hear the sound of Suguru’s car zipping off, and her laughter out the window. Just a few days ago she’d been in his arms, he’d made her cum… fuck five times with his mouth alone, and she’d said he was the best she’d had.
How can it change so quickly?
He had a feeling he was further along in his feelings than Yuki, but he didn’t know she clearly didn’t see him as more than ‘fun’. Choso didn’t just do those things for fun, no Yuki was it for him, he’d even been contemplating getting her a promise ring, he’d gone with Yuji to shop around just last week.
He’s glad he couldn’t decide on one.
He is heading back now towards his car, contemplating calling you, fuck he needs you, needs your understanding, how you listen, your advice. You rub his hair back as he lays his head in your lap, and he’d done it for you, when Satoru had broken up with you on prom night, when you’d been such a mess in your pretty dress, and he’d danced all night with you.
When you’d picked Choso up as he’d been a drunk mess from his last girlfriend breaking up with him and took him to your place, and took care of him. He’d woken up and you’d looked so uncomfortable, he’d slept right in your lap, and you’d just sat there on the floor like that, your back on the couch. He’d bought you a massage, he felt so bad, but you’d just smiled.
You were the one who had helped get Yuji into college, his little brother had the biggest crush on you. It was adorable. He was like a lost little puppy after you, and you were so sweet with him, too. Yuji still asks about you, and when he visits he makes sure you’re coming over for dinner, heartbroken you were dating some guy named Ino now, but Choso supposes he’s nice enough.
He’s protective of you.
He wants to call you so bad, but fuck he can’t just put this on you, not when you’re on a date. Not when you all haven’t even seen each other anymore really. How can he be selfish, he doesn’t want you to feel used or feel like he’s put you on some back burner as a friend. He keeps staring at your name, but in his phone it used to be Angel 💜
Before Yuki had changed that one.
Choso leans against his car now outside the theater, where it’s quiet and the cold air is blowing more and more as fall brings in the chill, and he fixes your name right back to Angel 💜 Because why the fuck not. His heart is in pieces as he wishes he could hear your voice or see your smile. Fuck Ino was lucky…
Suddenly he sees a figure, a gorgeous shape on a woman a little bit towards the theater, he sees a nice ass and legs in a teeny dress, as the woman is shivering from the cold, then he hears her… crying. Fuck, is that you crying!? Choso runs back up to the sidewalk across from the theater, where there is a strip of restaurants, and he calls out your name, could it be…
You turn then, and he’s stunned for a moment, his breath caught in his chest as he drinks you in for a quick moment. Choso has never seen you in something like this, a tight little bodycon dress, black with silver chains around the waist, and your perfect breasts are revealed far more than he’s ever seen. He forces his eyes up to your face, then his heart breaks more.
You have mascara streaking down your cheeks, and you’ve eaten your lipstick off, just a red line on your full lips now. You sniffle when you see him, rubbing your arms, covered in goosebumps. Choso snaps himself out of it, taking off his jean jacket quickly, slinging it over narrow shoulders, and pulling you against his chest, feeling how hard you are shaking.
“What happened, angel?” He whispers, and you sob more, clinging to him now, as he buries his head down, bending low, inhaling your shampoo, some fruity scent he always loves. You’re tilting your head back to look up at him, looking so small and helpless in his big jacket, as you clutch his black dress shirt.
“I wanted to… to call you, Cho. But I didn't want to ruin your night.” He blinks then, watching your lip trembling, and he’s brushing your hair back, you’d curled it he notices, fuck you look beautiful even if you were upset. He shouldn’t think that but he can’t help it.
“You can always call me.”
“No, I can’t, Yuki hates me. Messaged me to stay away.” He rolls his eyes now, shaking his head. “It was months ago. I’m sorry I shouldn’t even be in your arms.” You pull back now, and he pulls you against him once more, looking down at you. “Cho, you’ll get yelled at.”
“You’re my best friend, I’ll hug you all I want. But also… fuck.” He takes a breath then. “It’s a long story I guess, but she fucking left me.”
“She what!? Is she stupid you spoiled the fuck out of her, and you’re so sweet, and hot… what!? You’re Choso.” You say then, and he melts, as he hugs you so tight again, and rocks you side to side.
“Fuck that for now, you’re clearly more upset. What happened? Did he… did he hurt you I’ll fucking kill him-”
“No not… he broke up with me too.”
“He what!? Is he a fucking idiot, you’re the perfect girl, so caring, and smart, and just look at you.”
“I’m a mess. Ugh. My feet hurt, Cho.” Choso turns then, and you giggle through your tears. “No way.”
“Hop up now, you don’t weigh shit. I’ll carry you to my car.” You tentatively wrap your thighs around his waist now, your arms around his neck, and he hoists you up, you squeal a bit, you’re so cute he thinks.
He shouldn’t think that, you’re just his friend, but how can he not?
“You’re the best friend, ugh I missed you. I forgot how high up you are here.” You tease, finally smiling against his cheek, before kissing it, and he’s happy you can’t see the pink on his cheeks. “I’m like fifteen pounds heavier than in high school you know.”
He rolls his eyes, you’ve got a perfect body, and have men drooling wherever you go. You’re silly not to see it. “Everyone is fifteen pounds bigger. I think it went to your ass though.”
“Cho!” You’re now laughing as he carries you down, laughing with you. “You saying I got a nice ass?”
Yeah you do, but he’ll keep it to himself for now. “I’m saying you had no ass in high school. Your pants wouldn’t stay up.”
“Neither would yours! You just gained muscle, jerk.” You tease, squeezing a bicep and making his breath catch.
“And you look beautiful, perfect, I promise. Just as beautiful as high school if not more so.” You exhale, he feels it tickling his neck as his hands press into your thighs, feeling the muscles as you squeeze him, and then the plush of your inner thighs where his thumb is pressing in.
Fuck they’re nice. Has he ever really noticed? He used to carry you around but you’d worn jeans typically, you were more casual then, he’s noticed you’ve gotten more dressy and girly with Ino. He then tenses further as you squeeze him tighter, and he feels… he feels your heat against him. He stops at his car now, easing you down, cursing himself with his eyes shut.
Choso just got hard carrying you.
He looks down as you hand him his jacket, seeing that outfit again. “Thank you for saying that, really. But even if I look good, it doesn’t matter. I am not enough for him, apparently.” You’re crying again, and he puts that jacket back on you, shaking his head, tilting your chin up.
“You know better. You’re more than good enough for anyone. Now, my place or yours? We’re far overdue for drinks and a movie session.”
“Can I sleep over at yours?”
Usually that would be so casual, but now suddenly… looking like this, he gets flushed thinking of it. “Um, of course you can. Do you wanna grab clothes?”
“No, I’ll just steal your shit.” You tease, leaning up on your tiptoes in your heels, kissing his cheek again. “I used to do that all the time.”
“I know you have so much of my hoodies, ugh.” You just grin, and he’s so happy to see you smile it melts him further, fuck he almost forgets how upset he is now that you’re here.
“Come get in, then we’ll tell each other what happened, yeah?” He holds the car door open for you, leaning over and seatbelting you in, putting him far too close to where your breasts were pushed up in your dress. He struggles to focus and find the clip of the belt, his breath against your skin, and he watches your nipples stick out under the thin material.
Fuck.
“I can do it, silly.” You tease softly, but he hears your voice is breathy, and he finally finds the clip, before sitting next to you and revving up his car, his black Mustang he’d had for years. You stretch a bit, showing too much leg when you put them on his dash, taking off your heels. “Do you mind?”
“No, of course, take em off. Never seen you in heels like that.” He tries not to focus on the fact that even your ankles and feet are pretty, let alone your calves and thighs. Fuck you have nice legs, and he shouldn’t be thinking that, so he struggles to think of the night instead. Of you being hurt, of him being hurt. Of what exactly happened so quickly.
“You’re a lifesaver, I swear.” You sigh then, leaning back, snuggling against his jacket and smiling prettily at him. He swipes some of your mascara off your cheeks when you hit a red light.
“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” He asks softly, you nod a little bit, biting your lower lip.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you, it’s embarrassing though…”
“You can tell me anything, remember?”
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Your POV
Earlier that night
“You’re breaking up with me!?” You’d demanded then, as your boyfriend winces, you all are at dinner and everyone clearly hears you, people whispering, furthering your hurt and embarrassment.
You had been dating Ino for over six months now, that wasn’t nothing. And recently you both had gotten physical, too, something completely new to you, even at age twenty three. Ino had been your first, and you thought it…
“Did it mean nothing?” You whisper furiously, his brows draw together, and his eyes close. “My first time, you knew that. Why do it if-”
“I have feelings for you, you’re so beautiful and sweet. I swear it’s nothing you did, okay?” He touches your hand and you glare, smacking it off.
“It’s not you, it’s me? You’re saying that fucking line, Ino!?”
“Will you calm down-”
You stand then, scoffing. “Calm down, fuck no. We just did that, you just took it and now you- was I that bad?”
He stands, taking your shoulders and leading you out front, into the freezing night air, and you’re shivering. He takes off his jacket and you throw it on the ground, glaring as he sighs, his head falling back. “You are great, I swear. It’s not the physical, it’s more… you’re so immature.”
You scoff now. “Me, immature? You can’t even do anything without trying to please your family, I do shit on my own.”
“Or with your friend?”
You scowl now. “Don’t you bring up Cho, it’s not like I’ve hung out with him one fucking bit. Because you’re so insecure. And he’s a far better man than you! He wouldn’t leave someone after… that.”
“Listen I know it was important to you, I just have to tell you, there’s someone else in my heart.” You gasp now, stepping back. “She’s been in my heart, and now she’s finally agreed to date me.”
“So I was a fucking placeholder? Could you not have fucked me then, because it really wasn’t shit.” He stumbles back now, glaring down at you. “Could have fucked someone much better.”
“You seemed to like it-”
“I faked it. You can’t make girls cum with no foreplay, fucking idiot.”
“I fingered you-”
“For two minutes. Yeah then you went like two minutes. No I didn’t cum, fucking idiot. But I was okay with that, we could like learn from each other. I thought our relationship was doing so well, I thought I was falling for you.” You feel your tears threaten now, and Ino sighs, holding your shoulders gently.
“You’re a beautiful, smart girl, and successful. You’ll have whoever you want.”
“But I was with you. Because I wanted to be. What did I do to fuck it up, will you just tell me?”
“You fucked nothing up. It’s just… shit.” His phone rings then, and you see a name on the caller ID, Ino’s ex. You glare now. “It’s not what you think.”
“Tell me you didn’t fuck her while you fucked me.”
“I didn’t, plus me and you used condoms.”
“And!? The point!?”
“Jesus, you’re so dramatic. She’s much easier.”
“Easier!” You shove him then, turning and stomping away, and Ino chases you, grabbing your wrists. “Fuck off.”
“Let me take you home, it’s freezing and you’re in heels. You can’t just walk, please I know I hurt you, but I can’t let you just walk alone in the night.” You glare through your tears back at him, and watch him gulp, as he takes breaths, cupping your face tenderly, but it’s disgusting to you. “You looked so perfect tonight, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I know you were excited.”
“Why ask me on a date to break up with me?” You ask, choking on your sobs, fuck you thought he was the sweetest, the relationship had consisted of him doing everything for you, he was kind and caring and gentle. And he’d said he was falling in love with you.
You waited five months to sleep with him, you were a virgin (thanks to pining away for popular Satoru Gojo most of your school life) and then after so long of being one, you’d figured you would wait. The only man who you’d thought of sleeping with was your best friend, Choso, not that you’d ever let him know, or anyone know, you’d shoved that down.
And fuck you want to see him, you miss him so much, since you both had quit hanging out, his girlfriend hates you, and Ino doesn’t like Choso. So you’d stopped talking, aside from Cho sweetly bringing you a coffee every morning at work, smiling down at you with his gorgeous grin, always decked out in some goth outfit that fit him like a glove.
You still watched his rock shows from the back, he didn’t notice you, but even if they both didn’t like you as friends, you’d made a promise in middle school to be friends forever. A pinky promise at that, and both you and Cho quietly kept that, even if he didn’t know that you were there, supporting him.
Long ago you’d hoped for a chance, but you’d been so blinded by a Satoru Gojo infatuation you think you let his opportunity slip, and then you decided you’d be his friend, and his friend only. And how you need him now, to hold you while you cry, to listen to you, to stroke your cheek with his tattooed hands, covered in that dark polish you used to paint for him.
You miss him, you miss your friend.
Ino is still talking, and leaning down, almost as if to kiss you, and you smack his face, making his mouth drop open. “What’s that for?”
“What are you doing?” You demand angrily, the cold night air doesn’t serve to cool you down, your skin is on fire.
“Kissing you goodbye.”
You laugh then, through your tears. “Oh hell no. Fuck off, and never talk to me, ever again.”
“We could be friends? I really do care for you.”
“I will never be your friend. Ever. Now let me go.” He does then, but as you try to walk away he’s following you. “Go!”
“Let me pay the bill and I’ll drive you. Or let me get you a ride, please, it’s not okay to let you go like this.” You roll your eyes at him, stomping away now.
“My life is none of your concern now. I’ll walk.”
You want to call Choso so damn bad, fuck… but you know he’s with Yuki, shit he was thinking of serious things with her, he’d been in love with her so long. You could not ruin that for him, or bring your problems to him, you all could not have that relationship anymore, you couldn’t be that close.
You’re sobbing as you look at his name in your phone, it was Cho Bear 💜 But Ino had gotten mad, so you’d just changed it to Choso. As you walk down this long street, your tears falling and freezing your cheeks, you change it then, smiling just a bit, back to Cho Bear 💜 Because, fuck Ino.
Then you keep walking, as it all starts to hit you, that Ino had taken your virginity, and fuck you made him wait so long you did not think he just wanted to fuck, no he wanted a relationship and you weren’t good enough, even though you tried to give him your everything. You were some placeholder for him until his ex-girlfriend took him back, it was all some time waster to him.
Sex the couple times you all did it was truly not good, it didn’t hurt or anything and he was gentle, but you didn’t get pleasure. You’d had to rub your clit to feel anything and then it was too quick for you to cum, having to bust out a rose toy later on each time, it was about four times you all had fucked. You assumed it would get better but it never did.
So you kind of turned him down a bit, and maybe that is why he didn’t want you, but you were still a good partner, you tried to just get him off instead though, because you wondered if something was wrong with you. Now you wonder if something was just wrong with him.
Not that you ever want a damn boyfriend again, but you wouldn’t mind actually fucking, it seems so wasted all these years, you’re twenty three and the last damn virgin you knew, aside from Cho, but you’re sure he fucked Yuki by now. And you’re sure that man can fuck something about those big ass hands and long fingers…
You shouldn’t think of him like that
He’s only your friend, and barely that now.
Your feet are aching as you near a movie theater, where you and Ino had your first date, and you break down then, on the sidewalk, shivering and holding yourself as sobs wrack your body. You’re so mad, so upset, you can barely stand it, shivering in the night and your feet want to die. You need to order a ride, but you’re shaking so bad it’s hard to hold your phone.
Suddenly, you hear it, your name, and it’s…
Is that Choso!?
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Now you are sitting on Choso’s black leather couch in his living room, one of his shirts swallowing you. He’s huge, buff and muscular, and way taller than almost any guy you knew, his shirt hits your knees and he chuckles when he sees you in it. You’d washed your face, thankfully Choso kept your things under his sink still, fresh faced, eyes puffy, your hair in a bun with one of his pony tails.
His violet eyes light up when you all talk, past the horrible moments of both of your nights, and now you all are watching one of his dumb horror flicks, with the stupidest fake blood there was. You’re both sipping on ice cold beers, throwing your heads back with laughter, it feels so good, so comfortable you think, to relax, to be yourself.
You’d definitely tried to live up to Ino’s expectations, to what his ex was like, so put together and perfect, but with Choso you could be yourself, bare faced in a big Nirvana shirt. Choso wraps his arm around you then, and he’s bare chested, just his black sweats on, and you try to ignore how good his skin feels against yours, how good he smells, how good he feels altogether.
Choso was so handsome, tattoos across his ribs, bands of more tattoos on his shoulders, a partial sleeve on one arm that goes down to his hands. Big hands, one touching your waist, taking it over completely, your shirt scrunching as he’s laughing at a part of the movie. Your body reacts violently, more so than when he’d leaned across you to seat belt you in.
You can’t ruin this, you can’t.
But he’s got you wet just leaning close and laughing, grabbing the popcorn bowl and standing then, as your eyes drink in his body, the firm well formed pecs and flat brown nipples, his rippling abdomen. Your eyes dip to his dark trail of hair below his belly button, throat going dry, and why when you’ve seen him plenty over the years, you have always known he’s hot.
“Want another one, angel?” He asks, and the name makes you blush for some reason, as you nod shyly, fiddling with the edge of his shirt on your thighs.
“Yes, please. Thank you!” He saunters to his kitchen, bending down and you see the strong muscles of his back when he stands. He swipes his hair back as he hands you another, it’s loose and hits his collarbone, as he smiles softly at you, sitting back next to you again. “Damn Cho Bear, working out?”
“That nickname, shit it’s been a minute.” He sips on his beer, leaning back on the couch now, and you watch his Adam's apple bop up and down under a little bit of stubble that’s grown. “You look like you’re working out too.”
“Mmm, just a couple times a week, nothing like you. I only do the treadmill and read my books on the phone.” He laughs then.
“Reading porn while getting in steps?”
“Hey!” You shove at him a bit, then he sets both of your beers on his little glass table, tickling you now. You’re gasping for breath, twisting and turning as he’s grinning over you, fingers tickling your waist. “Stop, stop shit!”
“You’re so cute though. At my mercy.” He sticks out his tongue as he tickles you, and your eyes find his tongue ring fascinating for far too many reasons, as you overheat, and you realize he’s between your thighs. You tense now, since you didn’t even have on anything but crotchless panties you’d worn tonight, and he’s brushing against you.
He pauses then as well, looking down your body, hands gripping your waist gently, thumbs pressing into your rib cage, as he looks right at your breasts, visible under his shirt, the outline of them. He gulps and looks down further, to where his shirt had rode up your thighs, up to your hips, exposing black lace panties, that covered goddamn nothing.
He just stays there over you, his breath caught like yours, hands trembling now as he exhales, eyes looking back up at yours, his pupils so dilated, his pretty eyes look black, his eyes lidded and heavy suddenly. You arch your hips up just slightly, and he lets out a soft moan from the back of his throat as he looks there, as he sees you, a hand moving to press on your tummy.
“Cho, I’m not um… I’m wearing…”
“He didn’t fucking deserve to see that.” He whispers then, and your breaths come even quicker, as you’re slowly reaching a hand up to his chest, feeling his hot skin under your palm.
“He was my first.” You say softly, and he grimaces, shutting his eyes then.
“I’m looking at you like this, when you just… fuck I should be a better friend, I’m so sorry-” He leans back but you pause him, hands firm on his biceps now.
“I don’t mind. He was my first and I didn’t cum, like not once? I don’t know if he sucked or if I sucked. But it was pretty new, only a few times before he left.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. I know you wanted it special.” He says softly, leaning down, still over you, his hair falling softly on your skin, you brush it back, mind whirling.
“It’s okay, I know you are hurt too. Um, did you like sex though?” He is blushing now, looking away for a moment, nodding. “I guess I was turning him down and just getting him off because I didn’t. It’s kind of awful of me. Maybe-”
“It was that bad? Shit. Like he hurt you?” You shake your head. “Was he selfish? Not enough foreplay?”
“You seem so experienced now, we were the last virgins in Japan.” You tease with a smile, and he leans on an elbow now, laying on his side, a hand stroking your thigh before he stops himself, cursing. “It’s okay, I like it.”
“Are you sure?” You nod nervously, as he brushes his fingers up and down your thigh, and you whimper before you can stop, covering your mouth embarrassingly, as his lips part. “Fuck you’re sexy. Shit, I’m sorry.”
“No… um… Cho…” You lean up on your elbows then, bringing his attention back to your breasts, now outlined so well, he has to clear his throat, as his hand still rests on your thigh, above your knee. “Have you ever thought of fucking me?”
“Have I what!?” He sits up then, covering his face, and you panic, turning away and covering yours.
“Oh my god I’m so stupid, of course you haven’t, Yuki was your love, and I look nothing like her. And-”
He pauses you then, hands on your shoulders, and you can’t bear to look at him. “No, no, you’re beautiful, of course I have, I just got embarrassed, like you knew I have or something.”
“Y-you find me attractive?” You ask, not looking at him still, he has to tilt your head to him, sighing.
“Of course I do, I always have. There was a good three years of pining for you in high school, and you’ve just gotten hotter. But I never wanted to lose our friendship.”
You take a breath now, turning and looking up at him, a hand trailing down his abdomen, watching it flex under your touch. “So, what if we have sex, like maybe you can teach me things? And just sex, nothing else. No strings attached.”
“I’m in a dream.” You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I am, you’re in this shirt, looking so beautiful, asking me to fuck you?”
“Well, yes. I wanna get off and enjoy it. Also I don’t ever wanna date again, at least not any time soon. I imagine you don’t either.”
“Oh fuck no I don’t wanna date. I don’t think I can take that pain again.” You cup his face gently, and he kisses your palm, as you feel your pussy clench around nothing at just thinking of it. “You sure you wanna do this? You’re so new to sex.”
“You are too, though you seem to have had a better time.” You say with a giggle, and he tilts his head to the side.
“Did he not prep you at all?”
“Um, he fingered me for a minute. But I was really dry, and it’s not dry when I play with myself.” Choso’s bright red now, his eyes bugging out. “Shit, TMI?”
“I mean…” He clears his throat, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at you. “No, if we do this I think we should be so honest, we’re best friends we can really do that.”
“Exactly! Give each other instruction, on our bodies. Right, and I’m comfortable with you, you’d never hurt me.” You say with a soft smile, as you scooch closer, and you hear his breath catch, his hands trembling a bit as you take one, putting it on your chest, where your heart races. “Just sex, and no feelings. Any other rules?”
“Yes, if you find someone else, please tell me.”
“Of course, and same with you! Honesty all around.”
“Pinky swear?” He holds one out, and you giggle, nodding, wrapping your finger with his, then you’re both sitting there, his other hand still on your chest. “Did he not eat you out?”
It’s your turn to blush. “No, he licked it for a second before the first time, but I am not sure it counts.”
“And no one has?” You shake your head again, and now his hands slide down your body, pressing into your hips, he watches you gasp, your head leaning back, eyes fluttering shut. Your body has never felt like this, never responded this way. “So I have a request then, for us to do this.”
“Of course, anything you want, Cho Bear.” Anything for him to keep touching you, fuck he’s leaning down now, and you can’t take it, seeing sweet Cho Bear so sexy. You knew it was there, but you’d never seen it.
“Let me pleasure you only tonight, then we’ll do more if you really like it.”
“But I wanna do things too!” You pout, and he smiles, leaning even closer, his lips a breath away, noses touching.
“You can next time. I wanna see how many times I can make you cum, as a friend you know.” He whispers against your ear, Choso Kamo, Cho Bear, your sweet little best friend…
Fuck he’s grown up, huh?
And fuck he’s turning you on breathing against your cheek more than Ino did touching you, fucking you. Your body eagerly reacts, to the point it’s ridiculous, but you nod then, shyly. He chuckles a bit, as he picks you up suddenly, and he’s carrying you like you’re nothing, so strong and big, to his room, all goth and decked out in music posters, his guitars lined on his wall.
He lays you down on the center of his bed, with dark red blankets, fingering the hem of your shirt. “Are you comfy taking it off? I really would love to see you, but not if you’re nervous.”
He’s so goddamn sweet you think, how dare Yuki be such a bitch to your best friend, you think. You nod nervously, raising his shirt over your head now, baring yourself to him for the first time, and you can’t meet his pretty eyes. You hear him moan softly, and your eyes look at him, where he’s staring at you hungrily, running a hand through his hair.
“Fuck you’re so pretty. So perfect I… fuck.” He leans over you again, the bed springs creaking under his weight, and your nipples press against his chest. “Is it cool if we kiss first? Is it too romantic?”
“I’d like to kiss you.” You respond, and he moans again, that sound makes you even wetter, as he’s kissing you for the first time, and you melt at it, at his sweet firm lips, so gently brushing yours. He gently does it again, and again, as your tongue darts between his lips, craving more. He cups your face, pulling back.
“You’re so beautiful.” You get emotional suddenly, after the horrible rejection, this sexy ass best friend of yours, who you love so much, makes you feel so seen and so noticed. “Is that cool to say?”
“Yes, it’s good with me. Thank you Cho, you’re handsome, so handsome.” He’s blushing again, so cute you think, kissing you softly, before he’s between your thighs, and now kissing a trail down your throat. “Ah!”
“You taste sweet.” He says against your skin. “I talk alot, um if it’s annoying tell me to-”
“Choso, no I love it. You couldn’t - ah- annoy me, oh! Mmm!” He’s sucking on a nipple now, looking up under those long black lashes, as you feel the cool ball of his tongue ring on your nipple. You’re getting so wet, and gasp when he finds your clit, swirling with his thumb, and he pulls back, eyes seductive as he looks down at you.
“You’re so wet, fuck that’s sexy.” He murmurs, fingering the sticky mess, and you’re shifting your thighs for more, whining out. “And those sounds you make, oh my god.”
“Cho… please, touch me more?” You ask, and he nods eagerly, slipping a thick finger inside your eager entrance, and you’re crying out just from that, as he presses up and hits some spot that makes you gasp, seeing stars. “Cho, what!?”
“Your G spot, pretty. It’s - ah- there, mmm.” He’s leaning lower, kissing your tummy as he keeps pressing, now pumping his finger in and out, and you’re dripping down all Choso’s black rings, so wet you hear yourself, your hands now clutching the blankets tightly. “Look at you, you’re so perfect, perfect pussy.”
“Cho!” You don’t expect this, him talking so dirty, when you’ve known Choso as this sweet, innocent thing. But fuck he’s hot, as he’s sinking two fingers now, and you wince just a bit at the stretch.
“So tiny, want just one?” He asks, but you shake your head.
“I can take two.” You whisper, earning his smirk, it’s not a sweet Cho Bear smile, it’s seductive and sure, as he shoves two fingers in, and you scream out, as he’s kissing your soft tummy, then lower, and you feel yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Oh my… s’good I…”
“Two of my fingers aren't like normal, are they angel?” He whispers, and you shake your head in agreement.
“Thick.”
“Mmm, why don’t you cum on my fingers first, let me feel you pulsing.”
“Pulsing- wh- what- ah! Fuck!” You scream out then, feeling so intense you can’t take it, overwhelmed as he’s scissoring his two thick fingers, looking at you hungrily, and then he rubs his thumb on your clit, making you shatter. You cum all over his fingers, soaking his entire hand, as your orgasm washes over you. “Oh my god fuckfuckfuck!”
He’s moaning then, leaning up and kissing you, exhaling his sweet breath against your lips as you’re trembling violently, eyes rolled back when he slips his fingers out, still pulsing out wetness. He sucks you off his fingers then, moaning and rolling his violet eyes back, his strong cheekbones more pronounced as his cheeks hollow. Your mouth drops open at how sexy he looks, as your pussy aches.
“So yummy, I knew it.” He whispers, kissing you again, and you taste yourself, heating up more as he’s pressed between your thighs, you feel how hard he is under his sweats, and fuck he feels huge, too. You grind up and he pauses you, inhaling sharply. “Fuck don’t do that.”
“S-sorry, oh my god what was that!?” He grins then, sliding down until his face is between your thighs, and he’s spreading your lips apart, staring right at you. Your thighs close but he stops them. “Cho…”
“That was a warm up. Are you ready for me to taste you?” He asks, constantly asking permission, which touches you, and you nod then, so nervous. “Good, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
“A good girl Choso you’re a freak now? Oh my, ah! Mnh!” Now he’s sliding his tongue up your slit, and you’re jerking, hips bucking up, as he’s spreading your thighs wide with his big hands, pressing into the plush of your thighs, and sliding his tongue up to your clit now, which twitches under his tongue ring. “Choso Kamo! Choso you’re… that tongue ring!? What the fuck, holding out on a friend.”
He laughs against you, breath tickling you, taking one of your hands then, putting it on his head. “I’ll make up for it and get my best friend off so much she’ll pass out if she pulls my hair.”
“Pull it? Like this?” You pull gently, and his eyes flutter shut, white teeth biting a lower lip. “You sure, it’s okay?”
“I want you to put me there please?” He asks softly, eyes big, pouting all cute, making you giggle. “Put me where you want me, and fuck my face till you cum.”
“I don’t know where!”
“I’ll lick, and you pull my hair and press my face into that spot you like, sounds good?” You nervously nod, and then his tongue is fucking devouring you, you hear the sounds of him drinking you in the night, completely lewd, the squishing obscene, and you’re a mess, screaming out as he hits your clit again.
“There, please! Is it really okay-” He nods, moaning, and you’re yanking on his hair, shoving him against your pussy, as your thighs are on either side of his handsome face. He’s moaning as you do, grinding against the bed, flicking his tongue so fast you cum even harder than his fingers, and his tongue ring is flicking on your clit now, the sensation making you gush out.
You’re so overwhelmed as your toes curl, as your eyes roll back, and you’re grinding your hips against his face, and he’s sliding his hands to your ass, gripping the fat of it and yanking you closer, burying his face further, sucking your clit into his mouth, and making you fall apart again. Your hands are enwrapped in his silken hair, as his eyes look up at you then.
Your heart falters in your chest then, as he’s sucking on your clit, vibrating it with his moans, and your orgasm washes over you in waves, you stop pulling his hair, instead you’re gently holding his face as your hips roll back, overstimulated now. He takes a breath as he watches you, finally leaning up, the lower half of his face covered in your slick.
You’re a twitching mess, tears in your eyes when he licks his lips, smiling up at you now. “You all right, Angel, too much?”
“It’s a lot but holy fuck. It’s amazing.” You say softly, earning his grin brightening his face, as your emo best friend lights up, between your thighs. “How do you breathe like that!?”
He chuckles. “It’s a talent. Do I really have to stop, I wanna get you off more.” He pouts again, and you’re barely able to stand when he kisses your pussy again, he’s so good you’re just infuriated Yuki got this, that anyone did, it’s that good.
“I’m so sensitive- mmm!”
“Good, one more for me could you please? You’re so yummy, please.” You giggle then, breathless, your body on fire at how good you feel.
“Oh god, I mean a little more. You’re way too good at this, I’ve never even gotten myself off that good.”
“How do you get yourself off?” You blush even as he’s kissing the lips of your pussy.
“Um, rose toy. But that tongue ring of yours? Hits so much better.” He’s kissing your pussy over and over, sliding his finger back in, you’re so soaked it’s stupid, a mess under your best friend, and his eyes crinkle just a bit as he smiles up at you.
“You look so sexy when you cum.” You’re covering your face nervously, and he laughs softly, pulling them down by the wrists. “You do.”
“You don’t have to say all that.”
“I mean it. I would never say what I don’t mean.” You get emotional again, you don’t know if it’s the night, or how hard you’ve released all that tension built up, or if it’s… if it’s Choso, looking at you like that.
Friend, friend, friend.
Right?
You can keep it casual, if anyone can it’s you and Choso.
Right?
“Only if you want more, of course.”
“Oh, I might pass out. But yes, please.” Choso smiles again, and dives back down, now he’s using his finger and hitting your spot, and lavishing your clit with his tongue, as his free hand slips up and squishes a breast in his big hand, and you’re gasping for breath as all of your senses focus on pleasure, fading out your vision, your grip of reality.
Fuck you’re not mad he ate Yuki out, you’re furious Choso ever ate anyone out but you, and you’re so mad you had been just missing this for all these years. He’s so good you wanna confess love from just how he’s flicking his tongue back and forth, how he’s pinching your nipples, and you’re clinging to his wrist now, bringing a finger to your lips, sucking on them.
He’s moaning, fingering you and lifting his mouth up as you do, as you stroke your mouth up and down, swirling your tongue, and his violet eyes glint in the night, his soft sounds from his throat making you wonder how he sounds when he cums. How he looks when he busts, how he tastes, as you suck on thick fingers, and Choso flicks his tongue one more time, and you scream around them.
You’re barely able to focus as he slides up you, and you’re crying out, as he settles between them, watching you with hungry eyes, as you pull back with a pop, blushing. “It seemed hot to do?”
“So fucking hot, shit.” He whispers, kissing you over and over now. “Are you okay angel?”
“Yes I’m better than okay, I’ve never felt like this. I should have asked for this sooner.”
“Well, we both were lovesick. Weren’t we?” He’s laying on his side, propped up on an elbow, rubbing his hand up and down your hips and waist as you turn to your side too.
“We were, and I’m done, Cho, I’m so done with relationships. I think this could be perfect, and we don’t have to change.”
“You really did change, I noticed. Not that I don’t like you dressing girly, but it’s a little different than I’m used to.”
“I know you also were trying to be so much more… serious?”
“She said not manly enough.”
“You’re manly as fuck. You’re just also sweet, and open. You don’t care about society shit, fucking love that about you. Don’t you dare change, not when you get a girl again. Promise?”
“You promise too, you’re so perfect. And if I can say…” He leans close now, and you feel yourself react, every inch of your skin sensitive. “You have the yummiest, prettiest pussy ever.”
“Oh stop! Flattering me huh?”
“No, it’s true. You do. He’s so stupid.”
“She’s so stupid.”
“Can I kiss you after or should we keep it to… like a prelude to playing? I really like kissing you.” You feel your heart stop, because every time you kiss Choso, you feel something you never have. You don’t know if it’s desire, chemistry… it’s dangerous but when he asks like that? When you want it too?
“You can, I like it alot too. But… let’s just make sure we um keep it around sex I guess? Before or after?”
“That works for me.” He kisses you softly, brushing your hair back, until it gets more heated, and your teeth are clicking, tongues wrapping, dripping saliva between you both. You’re moaning softly, and he’s gripping you so tight, your hand slides down his stomach, but he stops it.
“Cho, lemme suck you. I kind of know how!”
“Well that’s one thing I didn’t do.”
“What!? How did she not?”
“I asked you the same.” You roll your eyes.
“Did we have shitty lovers?”
He laughs softly. “Selfish ones. You can try that tomorrow, just let me have a night where it’s about you.”
His words and how he says them touch you so deeply you can’t help but have tears fall, and he frowns in concern as he brushes them away.
“Am I too much, I know I can be-”
“You’re perfect, it was just sweet is all. I’m tired and buzzed, and just came so much I think I’m fucked up.” He’s kissing your forehead now, nodding as he helps you sit up now. “I should probably sleep, I’m still emotional, I think.”
“Do you want the bed?” He asks, grabbing your shirt and sliding it over your body slowly. Him dressing you feels almost as intimate as undressing. He sits next to you on the bed, tilting his head, and you try to remember it, friends, friends, friends.
Best friend ever, best mouth ever.
But, best friends.
“We could cuddle or is that weird?” He brings it up then, and you contemplate it for a moment.
“Cuddle buddies huh?”
“I’m such a good cuddler.”
“Okay, we can try but I get hot at night. And kick all the blankets. And roll in circles. And-”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“No!”
“Uh huh. We can sleep separately, maybe it’s too weird?”
“Yeah maybe. Maybe just in the same bed?”
“Sure, sounds good to me. Let me get you some water.” He comes back with a glass of ice water, and you sip greedily, sighing.
“You’re the best friend ever, Choso Kamo.” He’s grinning as he lays next to you, popping a big body pillow between you, wrapping his arms and legs, and fuck you want to be that pillow, but you worry it would make things so complicated.
“You’re the best friend, fuck I thought I’d be a wreck tonight. Thank you.” He says softly, brushing a thumb down your cheek.
“Thank you! For… well shit a lot. I’m so mad I’ve missed out on this mouth this long, I think I’ll be mad when I can’t get it.” He blushes again, as you hold the hand on your cheek now.
“I don’t think I’ll date any time soon, so don’t worry.”
“Same. And I have a favor to return in the morning.”
“I can’t say I’m not stupidly excited. I hurt.”
“Cho, I can do it now!”
“You go to sleep. I told you, I want it about you.” He yawns then, covering his mouth and then shutting his eyes, and you admire his perfect features for a moment, brushing his hair back and he practically purrs, making you smile.
It takes a long time to sleep, tossing and turning a bit, as the thoughts of Ino have faded to goddamn near nothing, and you’re sleeping next to your best friend, thinking how sweet it would be in his arms. This was your idea, and was it insane, could you all truly do this? You think it’s worth finding out.
You sleep finally when Choso has thrown his body pillow and snuggled against you, kissing your cheek. You giggle as you snuggle into his warm embrace, feeling so comfortable suddenly. “You look like you need cuddles.”
“I guess I do. Good night, best friend. Little Cho Bear.” You tease softly, and he smiles against your neck, snuggling under the blankets he’s thrown over you both.
“Good night, Angel.”
Angel, why does the name make your pulse race?
You can’t wonder too long, as sleep drifts you off in his arms.
Surely it won’t be too complicated, right?
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moonstruckme · 9 hours ago
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vampire!james is such a fun concept!
what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him
like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?
because blood sharing is intimate :P
Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3
cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)
vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words
James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 
He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.
“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”
“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 
James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 
“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 
It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 
You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 
“Can we do that?” you ask. 
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 
It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 
James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 
You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 
“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 
Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 
“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 
James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 
It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 
One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 
He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 
He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 
“Sorry,” you say. 
“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 
One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 
“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 
Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 
He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 
You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 
“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 
There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 
“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 
“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 
“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 
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thegettingbyp2 · 2 days ago
Text
I Should Have Told You Before
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 The only thing that Aaron could think of as he was driving was getting to you. He needed to tell you how he felt before him and Jack had to leave tomorrow, he knew he needed to, he just didn’t know how. The two of you had been on a couple of dates whenever he was home for long enough and things had been going great. He’d been working up to telling you how he felt; but he’d just run out of time.
It wasn’t long until he pulled up in front of your house, quickly getting out of his car and making his way to your front door, knocking quickly.
‘Hey,’ you exclaimed, smiling when you saw Aaron standing in front of you, your smile faltering slightly when you saw the look in his eyes and the way he was panting, as if he’d rushed to you. ‘Aaron, is everything - ’
You were cut off by Aaron’s hands cupping your cheeks and bring his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate and quick, as if he couldn’t get close enough to you fast enough. Walking you backwards, he kicked the door shut with his foot, not taking his lips from yours once. One of his arms wrapped around your waist as the other tapped your thigh, telling you to jump. With your legs wrapped around his waist, Aaron walked you through to your bedroom, laying you down on your bed before breaking the kiss, hovering over you.
‘I love you,’ Aaron said simply, watching as your expression morphed into one of surprise.
‘What?’ you asked, not fully registering what he was saying to you, your mind still on that kiss.
Aaron chuckled lightly before gently pressing his lips to yours in quick succession. ‘I love you,’ he said in between kisses, making you giggle and hum happily.
‘I love you too,’ you said, cupping his cheeks and pulling his face until he was looking into your eyes, watching as they softened the second they landed on yours. Instead of replying, Aaron simply leaned down to press his lips gently to yours again, his tongue sweeping against your bottom lip, groaning when you gasped into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip inside.
His hands roamed your body, impatiently tugging at the waistband of the thin sweat pants you were wearing, slipping his hand inside and moaning when he felt that you weren’t wearing any panties on underneath. ‘It’s like you knew I was coming round,’ he said with a smirk.
‘What can I say, I just had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight. And tomorrow night, and the night after,’ you replied in a teasing tone. Any other day this would have made Aaron let out a soft chuckle as you referenced the amount of times he stays round yours. He wanted nothing more than to be able to keeping coming round every night but he knew that tonight was the last time he was going to see you; most probably for good. Early tomorrow morning, Aaron and his son, Jack, were being put into witness protection to keep them safe from Mr Scratch who had begun to stalk them. He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this tonight, that he should just tell you; he just didn’t have the heart to look you in your eyes and tell you he was leaving.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ you asked, a smile playing on your lips as he just stared at you for a while.
‘Nothing, you’re beautiful,’ he said, his head then ducking down to leave a trail of kisses down your throat.
The next morning, you woke with a smile playing on your lips as you remembered the events from last night before taking stock, figuring what aches or not. Rolling onto your front, your arm came out to rest on Aaron’s chest, only to find his side of the bed cold and made.
---
Opening your eyes with a frown, you looked over to see that you were alone in the room. ‘Aaron?’ you called out, wondering if he’d simply woken early and gone downstairs. Before you had the chance to go and look for him, your eyes caught on a small piece of paper sitting on your dresser. Walking over, you felt tears gather in your eyes as soon as you started reading:
(Y/N), my love,
                        I’m sorry I’ve done it this way, I know it’s the cowardly thing to do, the mean thing to do, but I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing how much I’ve hurt you. Jack and I are being put into witness protection. I won’t go into why, the most important reason being to keep you safe. Believe me, it’s the last thing I wanted to do but it’s the safest thing for Jack and he needs to be my priority, I know you understand that.
Part of me is happy that I’ve told you this way, because now, the image of your face when you told me that you loved me too is the thing that I’m going to hold onto while I’m away. I’m sorry I only told you last night, I should have told you sooner, I just didn’t know how and I ran out of time.
I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I will come back for you I promise, I don’t know when, but I will. Until then, there’s something downstairs for you to remember me by. I’m not expecting you to wait for me and if you don’t I’ll understand, but I really hope you do.
I’ll be waiting for you.
I love you.
Aaron
Without wasting a second, tears still streaming down your cheeks, you raced downstairs. Another frown appearing on your lips when you saw a teddy sitting on your sofa that you knew wasn’t there the night before. The moment you picked it up, you were engulfed in the scent of Aaron’s aftershave and a quick squeeze to its paw allowed a message to play in Aaron’s voice.
‘I love you,’ the bear said over and over again as you continuously squeezed the paw, tears flooding from your eyes as you wondered when you’d see him again.
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luviwon · 2 days ago
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BEACH SEX | y.jw
kinktober day 20! back to the masterlist here!
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☆ ex boyfriend!jungwon x ex girlfriend!reader
; going on a trip with your highschool group of friends sounds all perfect until you find out your ex will be there too. and you feel annoyed about it, that until you end up on top of him with your swimming suit buried somewhere in the sand. “we don’t need to tell your new boyfriend about it, sweetheart”
genre ; smut
taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkas @hooneyz-luver @laylasbunbunny @nyfwyeonjun @minniesverse @rikinatorr
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a desperate whisper slipped from your lips, “please, jungwon…” your voice barely steady, craving his touch. he tilted his head, a wicked smile spreading as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “oh? begging already?” he murmured, letting his fingers trail slowly along your thigh. “i haven’t even started with you yet.” he chuckled softly, his voice thick with teasing intent, making every second feel like delicious torture.
“you’re already trembling,” he whispered, lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “what will happen when i actually touch you?”
he leaned closer, forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm and steady as his gaze held yours, intense and unyielding. his lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the magnetic pull between you, yet still maddeningly out of reach. “tell me,” he murmured, voice a low, rough whisper, “what is it you want… from me?”
with a sly smile, jungwon’s fingers slipped from your thigh, trailing up your side with a deliberate slowness that made you catch your breath. “not saying anything?” he whispered, the words heavy with teasing. “maybe you’re enjoying this more than you’d like to admit.”
his touch was too intoxicating. the gentle rhythm of the waves behind you seemed to sync with your heartbeat, pounding in your chest as he leaned in closer again.
“let’s keep this our little secret,” he murmured, his voice a mix of mischief and softness. “no one else has to know, especially your boyfriend”
your boyfriend didn’t even matter in this moment anymore, as the only worry at the time was not to be caught by anyone, lying down in the sand along with your ex partner, a lot closer to each other than you should have been. not to mention the absence of your bikini, thrown somewhere away on the beach, since jungwon did not like to see you covered.
he was in love with your body and he needed to see in its best form: exposed.
maybe that’s why he found it so hard to keep his hands away, exploring every inch of your body now as you lied beneath him. he moved his knee higher, only to tease you lightly before pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, one that has been wanted from both sides for the whole trip.
his tongue moved slowly inside your mouth, not in the way that he wasn’t familiar with the place, but in such a manner that he could remember all the previous moments spent together. that’s why his tongue was not enough to bring him all the memories back so his hand helped him out by wrapping it around your breast, fitting just right inside his palm.
you arched your back when you felt his cold touch against your heated chest, unable to control yourself. but you didn’t want him to back off, even though it was so wrong to keep going, to betray your boyfriend on the holiday you reassured him so much to be just a simple outing with old friends. and it felt like jungwon almost read your thoughts when he whispered
“he doesn’t fuck you like i do, does he?” although more of a rhetorical question, the way he said these words sent a shiver down your body, gulping in response. he was right, but it’s not like you could just agree on that and offer him that satisfaction.
even though you really wanted him to satisfy you all night.
jungwon waited no longer, moving his body lower down, using his tongue to draw a line from your neck, between your tits, all the way down to your abdomen, and when he reached your private, he gave you a last wink that went away with his head between your legs. you spread them apart, locking them around his neck and your hands getting lost in his curly hair. he didn’t even start, but you were just getting ready.
you remember how fucking well he does it.
“i missed this so much” he whispered before sticking out his tongue and licking your pussy carefully, not missing a spot. he was gentle, attentive, focusing on you and you only, recalling well what makes you feel good, besides him. he moved onto your clit, offering it more attention than usually because he knew how sensitive it is and how easily he can make you cum just by overstimulating it, making you feel sore in pleasure.
so that’s what he did, wrapping his lips around your clit to suck on it hungrily, like it was his favourite dessert. you pulled his hair harder, holding your whining back because it wasn’t right to moan his name. no, especially not here, and yet, it was so risky but it felt so… rewarding. looking down at the scenery between your legs, a messy hair boy with nothing on but a pair of boxers. and probably a very evident bulge that you couldn’t wait to take care off soon enough.
his mouth felt incredible around your pussy, like heaven on earth and he seemed to enjoy it as much as you did, moaning softly, hot breathe hitting your wet cunt. “let me fuck you right here baby” he asked on a puppy voice, giving you the eyes you couldn’t say no to.
but you had to control yourself, to be rational and understand how dangerous and wrong this whole thing w-
“please fuck me”, you replied, biting your lower lip. he found it so attractive that he let out a soft fuck and got back on his knees, pushing down his boxers and throwing them somewhere away, close to where your swimming suit must have been buried.
you couldn’t help but stare at his cock, at the way it just stood up before you, waiting to stretch you out again, better than any other guy could. because he was so thick and long, it gave you flashbacks from before and how it reached your stomach with each thrust. you needed that again, and you needed that right now, so a bit of a surprise to jungwon, you pushed him down on the sand and got on top of him, legs on each side of his body.
jungwon smirked, feeling your hips and watching your tits hanging so prettily for him, he wished he had a pen to write his name down on them. maybe you had a new boyfriend now, but you belonged to him still. you were his. and that’s why you wanted to remind yourself of that by positioning his cock close to your hole.
you felt a sense of unease again, maybe it wasn’t right after all. like yeah, feeling jungwon inside you was all you could dream of tonight but how would your partner feel? and how jungwon couldn’t give a fuck about him, he took the initiative by pulling you down on his cock, his length wrapped around by your tight walls, making him close his eyes and throw his head back, biting down his lips to hold back any sounds.
that’s how good you felt on him.
you cried out when his whole dick went inside you, falling on his chest, and he hugged you tight in his arms before thrusting into you. you thought you could ride him already but remembering how long it took for you to adjust to his cock every time you had sex before was indeed, a good memory.
“j-jungwon” you moaned out his name, unbothered by who might pass by and who might see you getting fucked by jungwon. even though the sound of that was quite hot. the ocean breeze felt chilly and the moon was shining, while your bodies caused clapping sounds to fill the silence of the whole beach.
with each whine of yours, the boy moved faster inside to overwhelm you even more, seeing how you roll your eyes back with each thrust. you tried to get away from his chest and give riding another try, but grinding on him one single time made your legs shake like crazy, your head back to listening to his heartbeat.
“baby, are you still on birth control?” jungwon whispered into your ear, his movements becoming rather precise and deep than just fast. he wanted to hit every single spot inside you, reaching your cervix. “mhm”, you groaned, scared to open your mouth as you were a whole mess right there, trembling and whining.
“perfect”, he whispered again. he lifted your head up, making you look at him. his eyes looked so beautiful in that bare light, and his lips so magnetic you couldn’t resist but press yours against them, feeling not only his taste inside your mouth but also a warm liquid filling up your hole. you moaned inside his mouth, his hands holding your ass to keep you in place.
he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted you to stay a bit longer, with his cock inside your cunt. it felt a bit too much like…home.
“i hope you’ll leave that loser now”
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whisperofwonder · 3 days ago
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part 2 of this - about 10 years in the future
Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader - 676 words
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"Thank you very much." Ushijima dips his head in a slight bow as he hands the signed photo over to the teenage girl in front of him. In recent years, he's met more and more fans just like her - "I've been watching you play ever since I was a little kid!" Time has been going by so quickly.
The years have, anyway. This day has started to feel like it will never end. Between fans, he sneaks a glance at the clock on the wall. In a little more than an hour, he'll be going home. It's the only thing that keeps him going.
He turns back to reach for another stack of photos when he feels the tug on the hem of his shorts. He looks down only to find a pair of grasping hands. "Papa!" His son cries out when his father notices him. With a soft, surprised laugh, he swings him up into his arms.
"Hi," He says into his hair as he presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. He spots you then, approaching with a sheepish smile, the baby sleeping in your arms and Kaito trailing behind you. Suddenly, every moment of the day that's been weighing on him feels as though it's floated away.
"Hi Toshi," You greet him, leaning in expectantly. He tries to make it a rule to keep displays of affection to a minimum, especially in such public situations like this, but he can't resist pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
"What are you doing here?" He murmurs, taking the chance to peer down at the sleeping bundle in your arms, brushing his knuckles against a soft cheek.
"Someone had to say hi to you," You gesture at your son perched comfortably in his arms, "And he just couldn't wait until you got home later. So here we are," You grin. "Plus, I think someone else wants another autograph to add to his collection."
Ushijima watches as Kaito's cheeks color, and he ducks his head. He raises an eyebrow and tries to disguise his smile as Kaito insists he had said no such thing. "Well, I've already signed this one, so you'd better take it anyway," Ushijima holds out the photo and Kaito accepts it. He tries to act nonchalant, but Ushijima doesn't miss the way he studies it closely for just a few moments. "We just took these photos, so it's a new one," He adds offhandedly. Kaito's expression brightens.
"Thanks, Uncle Toshi," Kaito says, flashing a quick smile. Almost 16 now, there's very little of the small boy Ushijima had met all those years ago, but his grin is still the same. It's endearing how the boy is still just a little bit starstruck by him.
"You didn't have to wait in line, you know," Ushijima turns back to you. "You're allowed to come right through."
"I know," You say with a wave of your hand, "But waiting is all part of the experience. It really takes me back. Right, Kaito?" You turn to your nephew.
"Yeah," He says distractedly, in the middle of stealing a glance down at the photo.
"But we should probably get going," You say, all too soon.
"You don't have to go," Ushijima says quickly, his hand coming to rest on your arm before he can stop it.
You laugh. "We're holding up the line," You gesture with your chin to the fans behind you. "Besides," You lean in a little closer, just enough that he catches a whiff of your shampoo, "The sooner we go, the sooner you'll be home." You press a quick kiss to his cheek. "We'll see you in a bit. I love you."
"I love you too," He says, finally setting your son back on his feet as Kaito reaches for the little boy's hand. He can't help but watch until you're swallowed by the crowd - his family.
The people still waiting in line remark to each other that they can't remember ever seeing Ushijima Wakatoshi smile quite like that before.
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