#every week I remember something fucked up about the way I was treated at that fucking school and I wish I had evidence

[space-matt]

Jokes in life - death

chris.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: One joke too many could cost the life of someone…maybe.

request: yes -> anon

cw: use of y/n, fake chocking, fake death, swear

author's note: after a long time I'm back with a small part that I managed to write between commitments. I hope you can enjoy it all the same. Tell me your opinions! ♡

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English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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''Oh for your information it's not true,'' you say, pointing your finger at Chris's chest as you walk the streets of your neighborhood with your favorite ice cream.

Almost every night you ended up heading to your hiding place, the roof of a building abounding along the end of two streets further on. But this one, in particular, you just wanted to walk and look around.

''So it's not true that you went out with Mike the other day?'' Chris asks stopping in place to see how your expression changed from calm to surprise ''Yeah we went out but only because we're lab partners, that's all Chris'' you reply continuing to eat the ice cream from the cone that was melting in the meantime.

''The fact is it's not that I don't trust you but-'' in the middle of the sentence you start coughing but Chris continues to blink not caring about the noise coming from his beside.

‘'C-Chris'' you pronounce with difficulty and only at that moment the boy realize that you are choking ''OH JESUS'' he exclaims starting to pat you on the back but it seems to have no effect 

< Stay calm Chris > you hear pronounced from his panicked mouth, and only then do you decide to end your charade.

'' Gotchaaaa'' you exclaim laughing as you see his bewildered face '' Are you fucking kidding me y/n?! It's not fucking funny, at all'' he says waving his arms and shaking his head.

From this episode, you have inaugurated the session of jokes for years, from the obvious to the serious ones.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chris had been meticulously planning the ultimate prank for weeks, determined to pull off the prank of the year.

He wanted to recreate a home invasion robbery, a prank that was both extreme and daring but would undoubtedly earn him the top spot on the leaderboard. 

As it stood, he was currently in first place, followed by Matt, Chris, and finally Nick.

Chris spent hours preparing for the prank, carefully plotting every detail to ensure its success. He knocked over chairs and moved furniture, creating a mess that would make it look like a real break-in had occurred. 

With everything in place, all he had to do was pretend to be hurt to make the prank look authentic. 

As he made his way upstairs to Nick's room, he remembered the fake blood that Nick had used for his Halloween costume and decided to use it to add to the realism of the prank.

You, on the other hand, were at the supermarket with Matt and Nick, picking up the necessary items for their next video titled < Let's Try the Odd Pairings > As you walked through the aisles, you noticed a Reese's bunny on the shelf and thought it would be a nice treat for Chris. 

You picked it up and added it to the cart, continuing to gather the other ingredients needed for the video.

As you pulled your car into the driveway, you noticed something strange. The front door of your house was slightly ajar.

You quickly parked the car and grabbed your grocery bags, approaching the door with a sense of unease. As you got closer, you could see that the door was open just enough to let someone slip inside.

With confusion etched on your face, you cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside. That's when you saw it - the house was in a state of utter chaos. Furniture was overturned, drawers were pulled out, and things were scattered everywhere.

Your mind immediately went to Chris. You called out his name ‘’Chriss..?’’ your voice trembling with fear. As you searched each room, your panic grew.

There was no sign of Chris anywhere. Your heart racing, you finally entered his bedroom, where you found him lying on the floor, his eyes closed and a red spot on his chest.

‘’CHRIS’’ You rushed to his side, shaking him and calling out his name, but he didn't respond. You started to panic ‘’GUYSS CALL AN AMBULANCE NOW!!!' you shouted to get the attention of the other two, who were rightly part of the prank and knew full well what was going on. 

Chris was doing nothing but holding back his laughter, and being as calm as possible to get completely into the part

''Oh my god what have they done to you? Oh god I can't lose you, what am I going to do without you? I didn't even have the guts to tell you how much I've liked you since we were kids, how safe you make me feel and how much I love your dimple when you smile'' you say all in desperation as salty tears roll down your face 

''WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS? WE NEED HELP!'' You scream starting a real hysterical cry, only at that moment do Nick and Matt enter, who seeing you in this state decide to put an end to the joke, realizing that this has gone a bit too far

''C'mon Chris get up'' exclaims Matt coming towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder noticing your trembling.

You find yourself in a state of confusion as your vision remains hazy, and it takes a moment for you to realize that Chris has opened his eyes and is staring at you. You rub your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and whisper, ''...what?''

Chris, sensing your disorientation, informs you that it was all a prank. He pulls you in for a hug, but you push him away, still reeling from the shock of the experience ’’It's a fucking joke, what's wrong with you idiot’’ you express your anger and frustration 'I thought something bad happened to you and the stain-'' you say feeling more tears streaming down your face pointing on his chest ''-you went too far’’ You explain that his prank had triggered your anxiety.

As you sit on the edge of your bed, you feel a wave of emotions wash over you. You feel overwhelmed and suffocated, and the only thing you can think of doing is hiding in the bathroom.

You slowly make your way to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, hoping to find some solace within its walls.

Once inside, you lean against the sink and let out a deep sigh. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you know you won't be able to hold them back for long.

You rest your hands on the sink and let the tears flow freely, trying to release all the pent-up emotions that have been building inside you.

As you cry, memories of the past come flooding back to you, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed. You can't help but think about the people you have lost in your life, and the thought of losing someone else fills you with dread.

You find yourself caught in a vicious cycle of bad thoughts, unable to break free.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door, ''Y/n can I come in?'' Chris asks from behind the door. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to let anyone in, but the sound of his voice is enough to break through your walls. ''I don't want to see you'' you say try to compose yourself, wiping away the tears from your face.

''Please'' Chris pleads, his voice full of sadness and regret. You know he's crossed a line, but you also know that he cares about you deeply. With a heavy heart, you snap the lock so he can enter, preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

As he wraps his arms around you, you can feel his warm embrace, but you remain stiff at first. However, when his hands start caressing your back, you can't help but give in to the moment and relax. You let out a deep sigh as you feel his fingers trace gentle circles on your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your hair, his voice filled with remorse. "I shouldn't have pushed myself any further"

He pulls back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. You can see the concern etched on his face as he takes in your tear-stained cheeks.

After a few moments of silence, you finally speak up. "Don't ever do that again, please...I seriously thought the worst" Your voice is soft and shaky as you try to hold back more tears.

He takes a deep breath and continues "I swear, in fact, let's get rid of the prank contest...we're old enough for these things now. Are you in?" He takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm in" you reply with a little smile. "They're not for me anymore" he can't help but smile back, and you’re feeling grateful for his understanding and support.

After feeling overwhelmed and needing to calm down, you took some time to freshen up in the bathroom. Once you were ready to rejoin the group, you found Chris waiting for you outside the bathroom, ready to change his soiled T-shirt.

You both made your way up the stairs and into the living room where you were pleasantly surprised to find that Matt and Nick had taken it upon themselves to clean up the mess that had been created earlier.

As you settled into the comfortable surroundings of the living room, Chris reached out and took your hand, leading you out to the balcony where the sun was setting. You both sat down on the footstools and with your legs resting on the coffee table, you looked out at the beautiful view.

After a few moments of silence, Chris spoke up, saying, "What a day" you couldn't help but chuckle at his remark and responded with "For me we can also eliminate"

Chris then turned to you and asked "So... what you told me before is true?" you played coy and asked "Which of the many things?" knowing exactly what he was referring to, he replied with a pointed, "You know what”.

It seems that Chris is highly perceptive when it comes to your body language, even when you try to hide things.

You may have believed that he never pays attention to you, but the reality is quite different. The two of you have had feelings for each other since you were young, yet you both seem to be oblivious to this fact.

Despite your attempts to conceal your emotions, it appears that Chris can sense what you’re feeling, and perhaps he feels the same way.

As you bask in the warmth of the sun, lost in your thoughts, you hear a familiar voice calling out to you. You turn to see him standing there, his hand waving in front of your face. "Y/n, are you there?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours. 

You feel a jolt of surprise at the sudden interruption, but quickly compose yourself and respond with a smile. "Yeah, sorry about that" you say, taking in his appearance, which seems even more striking than usual.

‘’It's true... but you don't have to feel sorry for me, even if you don't have the same feelings as me there's no problem at all, on the contrary, there are better girls than me and-‘’ as you begin to speak, he cuts you off with a gentle kiss on the lips. 

At first, his lips feel firm against yours, but then they soften, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. In that moment, all your doubts and fears melt away, and you find yourself lost in the pleasure of the kiss.

You feel a warm sense of contentment and happiness wash over you as the kiss comes to an end. Your heart races as you hear him whisper on your lips

"I've always liked you Y/n and couldn't wait to kiss you" your mind is filled with a flurry of emotions as he kisses you again, and you can't help but feel grateful for this moment with him. 

The softness of his lips against yours, the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek, and the warmth of his embrace all make you feel alive and loved.

You cherish this moment and hope that it's just the beginning of another journey together.

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Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @blackhorses-posts

[yawnderu]

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

[darkbluekies]

Secrets

Mafia!yandere x reader x hidden brother

Summary: Silas has a brother you've never heard of, who seems to be just what you need, so you decide to escape with him, only to find out even more secrets.

Warnings: mafia, crime, scamming, murder, blood, manipulation, mentions of selling a human, smuggling, nsfw mentions (let me know if I missed one)

Word count: 5.5k

Silas has brought you to his family's summer house on the Greek island of Rhodos for you to be alone, away from everyone. Only you and him for a week. Weirdly enough, it brings you some kind of relief. His men and his work has worn you out.

"Stay here, I have to go get some food for us", Silas says and picks up his wallet. "I'll be back in thirty minutes, baby, so try not to die in the meantime."

"I won't", you promise.

Silas smiles and kisses your lips. "Good. I love you, little thing. I'll be back soon."

He locks the door behind him. You breathe out and finally relax your body. Being all alone with Silas has been excruciating. If he learned to keep his hands to himself, you wouldn't feel as tired as you do now. Every night, he wants to feel you underneath him.

Just a few minutes later, you hear the lock turn. Silas must have forgotten something. But the man who walks in … isn't Silas. You could swear that it was in your first glance. The man looks extremely like Silas with thick, black hair, dark eyes and broad build. This man, however, has a bigger nose and lips.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he gasps as he walks in. "I didn't know Silas was here."

You take a step backwards. When someone knows Silas, it is almost always bad.

"Who are you?" you ask suspiciously. 

"I'm Ares, Silas’s younger brother", he says and holds out his hand in front of him in a pleading way. "Please don't be afraid. I'm not like my brother." He looks around. "Where is he, anyways?"

"He'll be here soon …"

"What's your name? You're Silas’s partner, right?"

You nod hesitantly. There's a bad feeling in your stomach. 

"I've heard about you", Ares smiles sweetly and rolls his eyes. "Or not about about you. Silas never tells anything to the family, but I've heard that he has a partner. There's a rumor."

Ares sits down by the kitchen table. You follow him closely with your eyes.

"How is he treating you?" Ares asks carefully and points at your neck. "He isn't hurting you, is he?"

Your hand shoots up to your neck, remembering the (probably) hundreds of love bites Silas has left on you.

"N-No!" you stutter embarrassedly. "This isn't-!"

"Oh, I see. Sorry for assuming. I just know that my brother isn't a very soft person so I just- … that was dumb of me, I apologize."

"It's okay …"

Ares smiles coyly. You find yourself smiling slightly at the awkward misunderstanding. 

"What was your name?" he asks.

"Y/N", you say.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I didn't mean to intrude like this. I was under the impression that the house would be empty."

"It's fine-"

Your sentence is cut short by the door opening.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ares?" Silas growls and holds out his hand to you. "Y/N, come here."

You walk over to your boyfriend who is quick to scoot you behind him.

"Mom and dad said that the summer house was free", Ares says and crosses his muscular arms — something that seems to run in the family — with a cocky smile. "You didn't tell them that you were here."

"Why should I? They disowned me, they don't need to know about my whereabouts. Now get out. I don't want you anywhere near my partner."

Ares stands up. He walks over to Sials, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"A tip, big bro", he says amusedly with raised eyebrows, "if you break Y/N when you're having sex, you'll be living in involuntary abstinence for weeks. Don't be so rough."

Silas flinches forward upon hearing your name, as if he's about to attack him, but seems to force himself to remain still. Ares leaves, closing the door behind him. Silas turns to you instantly, cupping your cheeks.

"What did he do to you?" he asks quickly, worry glowing in his eyes. "Tell me everything."

"He didn't do anything", you answer. "I'm okay. You never told me that you have a brother."

"Y/N, he's a horrible man, I don't want you talking to him. I hid him for a reason."

Silas's usual jealousy is talking again, you notice.

"Pack your bag, we're leaving tonight."

"Silas, I don't want to go back. I hate it there."

"You're safe at home. Apparently, you're not here."

"Silas, who cares if your brother knows that we're here?"

"No one should know where we are, do you get that? Only my closest men should know about my whereabouts. I don't even trust people in my organization. Go pack your bags now."

You sigh and give in. You notice how quiet Silas is. He throws everything around and glares. With a harsh grip on your hand, he pulls you with him to his car and speeds all the way to the airport. You're afraid of opening your mouth. He's going to explode at any moment … but you can't stand this much longer. The second his private jet lifts from the runway, you decide to try to ease the air.

"Silas, please", you say quietly with tears in your eyes. "You're scaring me."

That seems to snap Silas out of his dark cloud. His eyes dark over to you and soften, as if he's realized that you're there as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby", he apologizes and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Come here."

You unbuckle your own and walk over. He pulls you down into his lap and hides his face into your abused neck. You can feel his heavy sigh.

"Why are you crying?" he asks quietly into your neck.

"I don't like it when you're mad .. every time you're mad, you kill someone", you whisper in horror. "I don't want you to be mad. I don't understand. He's just your brother-"

"I hate that piece of shit. Don't call him my brother."

You gulp.

"I will not let him take you", Silas mumbles and tightens his embrace on you. "He's always wanted everything I have. Even when we were kids. He threw tantrums when I got presents on my birthday because he wanted his own. If my dense, thick brained parents hadn't given in ye probably wouldn't he a piece of shit now."

Younger siblings are often like that, you're not surprised. Always wanting what the older one has — to be like them.

Silas lifts his head from your neck and presses his lips to yours.

"You're mine", he tells you and gives you a gaze you can't seem to read. "Say it, say that you're mine."

"I'm yours, Silas", you say hesitantly. "Please calm down, I'm uncomfortable."

He sighs heavily and intertwines your fingers.

"I'm sorry, baby", he apologizes. "Ares just pisses me off like no one else."

"You'll not have to meet him again", you remind him. "You ran into him by accident."

"Yeah, I guess. If I had known that he would stumble in like a fucking pig I would never have left you alone. I don't even want to imagine what he could have done …"

"Silas, I'm okay, right? Nothing happened. He was friendly, you have nothing to worry about?"

He scoffs. "Nothing to worry about? Yeah, right."

"Can we please drop this now? I don't want to sit with you if you're going to be like this."

You're about to stand up, but he pulls you down again.

"Alright, alright, I'll not talk more about it. Just stay."

A month passes. Silas weird behavior has finally toned down and to make up for his extremely overprotective manner, he's agreed to take you out on a car drive. Silas needs to meet up with a "colleague" to trade something he hasn't told you. You don't question that anymore — frankly, knowing will only bring you nausea and headaches.

Silas’s car has many buttons and screens inside, both in the front and behind the seats, LEDs that light up in different colors and heaters under your seat. The car is more comfortable than your bedroom. 

He parks the car in a gas station, making it look like he's supposed to fuel his car, when in reality, he walks off to meet with his contact. Before he leaves, he handcuffs your hand to the steering wheel and locks all doors. Knowing that you can unlock them from inside paranois him. You sigh and look around you for something to keep your eyes on, finding a familiar face in the slot beside you. Ares has parked his red sports car beside the gas pump. He smiles when noticing you and gets out of his car. He looks around in confusion. You point towards the gas station  with your free hand. Ares nods and scurries over to you. You unlock your door.

"Y/N, hi", he smiles. "What a coincidence. I’m so glad to see you. Ever after I was kicked out by Silas, I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" you sigh and lift your cuffed hand.

"That's easy to pick." Ares picks up something resembling a needle from his back pocket and inserts it in the lock. Just a minute later, the lock clicks open and you remove the cuff from your wrist. “Y/N, you should come with me. I can save you from him.”

Those words ring in your head. I can save you from him. You can finally get away? Ares tugs on your arm and you realize that you have to decide now, before Silas returns. If you decide to leave with Ares, changes are you’ll have to live on the run for the rest of your life. You’re certain that SIlas won’t let you go that simple. And once he does catch you again, you’ll have to regain his trust — that took such a long time to acquire. But you don’t want to stay. You don’t want to have his suffocating presence around you, don’t want to be locked in his bedroom all day every day, don’t want to be present in that kind of lifestyle. You just want to go back to normal … although that will never happen. You’ve stepped into this world (although involuntarily) and now you can never get out — not fully at least. 

Ares helps you into the front seat of his sports car. You find it humorous that two brothers who seem to be so completely different like the same things.

"Let's go", Ares says and hits the gas.

"Thank you", you whisper, in shock over what just occurred. "I don't know how I'll repay you."

"Don't worry about it", Ares smiles and glances at you. "I don't think it's safe to get you home to your family. That's the first place Silas will look. Let's go to my house."

"Silas doesn’t know where that is, does he?"

"No. Just relax, Y/N, you're safe now."

You nod and decide to sink down into the car seat. You wonder how Silas is feeling right now.

Ares stops the car in front of a white house before helping you out.

"Is this your house?" you ask.

"No, I'm just using this as a decoy", Ares grins and rolls his eyes. "Come, I'll show you to the guest room. You must be tired."

You nod. If you are. Ares unlocks the door and you step into an empty hall.

"You have to excuse the empty space", Ares says, closing the door behind him. "I just moved in, I haven't had the time to get all the essentials — but I do have beds prepared."

"That's okay", you sat softly.

"The rooms are upstairs. I decided to give you an upstairs bedroom so that in case my big brother ever manages to find this house, he won't reach you. I will be able to stop him before he manages to get upstairs."

You start to walk up the stairs. 

"But he has many men …", you say quietly. 

"Trust me, Y/N, after growing up with him, you learn how to win feuds", Ares chuckles. "He's easy to read, you know? He acts like a child. He hates to share stuff, keeps unnecessary grudges and plays too hard with his toys." Ares raises his eyebrows teasingly and grins at you. "I see that your hickeys are gone."

Your hand touches your neck sheepishly. "Oh, yeah …"

"If you're ever up for some soft sex that doesn't end up looking like a murder scene …" He holds his hand up to his head like a telephone, "call me."

You chuckle and shake your head. Ares smiles and opens a door to your left, showing you a simple bedroom.

"I hope that you'll be able to recover from my brother's treatment here", he says behind you. "I'll leave you be for now. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to tell me, alright?"

"Okay", you nod. "Thank you, Ares. Genuinely. For everything."

"Of course."

He closes the door and you sink down on the mattress, breathing out. For a moment, your entire body goes numb. You really did escape Silas … with the help of Silas's brother. You have to be dreaming. How much more absurd can it get?

You find yourself enjoying Ares's company. You often sit on his couch and watch TV while he plays with his phone. It seems to occupy his every hour. You want to ask about it, but after spending so mu g time with Silas and his demeanor of 'don't ever ask what I'm doing' you hesitate. 

"You've been staring at me five times now", Ares says without looking up from his precious screen. "If you're going to ask something, do it."

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"I'm doing some business. I work mostly online."

"With what?"

Ares looks up from his phone and you freeze. You shouldn't have put your nose into his business. 

"I manage a few companies, just a couple small ones", Ares smiles. "You know — buy, sell, trade. All of that stuff. Why? Are you interested?"

"I just … I don't know. I was just wondering why you were always on your phone."

"Yes, shit, sorry. I'm so used to working all the time. Were you feeling ignored?"

"N-No, not at all. I was just curious."

"That's good. Stay curious. Just not too curious, alright? It was curiosity after all that got you into this situation from the start, wasn't it? You shouldn't have watched what was on that USB."

You gulp, remembering how you and Silas met. You had found a USB in your bag that one of his men had dropped one day. He had tracked the USB ones it had been used … and found you.

"How did you know that?" you ask.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Ares smiles boyishly. "Some of my friends work for Silas. Just under cover, to spy on him a little. They told me. That's how I knew you actually existed. You're just a rumor, but my friends could ascertain that you were real."

The mention of 'friends' brings your thoughts back on your own friends and family.

"Ares, when do you think I can go home?" you ask.

"Not for a while", Ares replies.

"But I've been here for two weeks. I'm bored. I want to meet my family."

"I know, little dove, but that isn't the ideal for now. Silas could take you. We need to be patient."

Little dove? You think that it sounds eerily similar to Silas's favorite pet name for you — little thing.

"Don't call me that", you say quietly, suddenly feeling guilt. "It … reminds me of him …"

"Reminds you of him? I saved you, remember? I'm better than him."

"Yes, yes, I know … but …"

"Come here."

You walk over to him and he takes your hand, kissing it gently.

"You're just overthinking because you're scared", Ares says. "I get that. My brother put you through horrific things. But you don't have to be afraid anymore. You're with me now. Trust me. Trust that I'm doing what's best for you."

You nod, but can't help but feel like his grip on your hand is a bit too tight. You look into his black eyes, searching for some kind of excuse for it — he's just trying to be comforting, it's just how strong his hands are … it runs in the family.

When going to bed that night, you're left with a heavy feeling in your stomach. Ares has been nothing but kind to you, so why do you suddenly feel uneasy? Or is it really sudden? Didn't you feel uncomfortable in his presence the very second you met him for the first time? Before he flashed you that boyish smile of his? Or do you just miss Silas? That can't be it … can it?

You turn in bed. 

Something doesn't feel right. Ares is supposed to be different from Silas, why does everything he does remind you of him? Just being brothers can't be the entire reason. Ares's car is the same type, just in a different color, his flirty behavior reminds you of Silas, just a tad bit different, his strong grip in your hand felt exactly like him and the way he called you "little dove" makes your stomach turn. 

What was it that Ares worked with? Did he ever tell you what he bought and sold and traded? He never told you what companies he owns.

You sit up and look around in the dark room. Ares haven't put in any effort to go out and buy furniture for his new house. The house itself doesn't make sense. Everything about Ares seems so similar to Silas, how come the house is the only thing that separates them? Silas has his black, modern, renovated villah and Ares has … an old, white house? While owning a sports car? While managing so many companies?

Suddenly, you get it all. Why haven't you noticed it before? Have you been trying to pretend that everything is fine so badly that you've missed all the red flags? You scurry out of bed and change into your clothes with shaking hands. 

You sneak out into the corridor, hearing Ares's voice from downstairs.

"No, they're asleep", he says. "Yeah, I'm thinking about doing that … they seem to piece things together and so does my idiotic brother. I can't keep them here. I'm thinking Spain. Silas will never find us there. Last I heard he got banned from entering the country. Or that might have been England. I'm not sure. Bastard's probably banned from half of Europe by now." Ares chuckles. "We'll do just fine in Spain. I know some people there that would pay a lot of money for Y/N. All because they're Silas’s partner, isn't that funny? Everyone has something against Silas and to piss him off, you have to use his little partner."

You freeze. Is Ares planning to smuggle you out of the country to sell you to one of Silas’s enemies? You have to get out of here. Oh, how you wish you were at Silas’s house right now, that you had never accepted Ares’s help. You really do miss your forced boyfriend.

You sneak down the stairs, feeling lightheaded when the wood under your feet creaks. 

"I have to go, mate, I think I have a wandering toddler", Ares says.

You hear him get up from his armchair and suddenly he appears in your vision, right in front of you down the stairs. He smiles sweetly, but you tense up.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Can't sleep?"

"Are you taking me to Spain?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He seems to be taken aback for a second but quickly gathers himself. "Yes, I thought that it would be good for you to change scenery to recover. You'll love Spain."

"I don't want to leave the country, Ares. I can recover here. I promise."

Ares eyes narrow. He must have heard the shaking in your voice that you tried so desperately to hide.

"Y/N, do you believe that I want you harm?" he asks calmly, leaning his hand on the wall.

Your heart starts to beat.

"No, of course not", you lie.

Ares smiles and walks up the steps to you. You fight the urge to flinch, suddenly feeling like you're back in Silas’s house — although you were more comfortable in Silas’s company. You knew him better.

"Let's think about it", Ares smiles and rubs your back. "It's late. Spain doesn't disappear overnight, we have time to come to a decision. Come."

He leads you back to your room and gives you your pajamas before leaving you alone. You change and sit down on your bed, holding a shaking hand over your chest.

Suddenly, you hear the door lock. You rush over, feeling the handle — just to assure you that you didn't hear things. It is indeed locked.

"Fuck …", you whisper. "Oh my God, Silas, help me."

You decide to play along. 

You sit with Ares in the living room every evening, watching the TV. And then, the day comes when you’re supposed to go to Spain. The night before, you know that you have to do something. You don’t want to leave the country. Not with him. 

You put on your clothes and sneak downstairs, finding Ares on his phone as usual. He doesn’t see you sneak by the living room door, over to the front door. You try it once. Locked. This old house needs to be unlocked with a key from the inside — a key you don’t have. You look around quickly, glancing every minute towards the living room. You try the window. Nothing. The only window responding to your tries are the kitchen window above the sink. As quiet as you possibly can, you get up on the counter and pull the window open. WHen climbing out, you accidentally knock a glass over. The sound of glass crashing against metal in the sink makes your heart drop. You don’t wait for any responses. Without a second doubt, you jump down onto the grass outside and run. Past his red sports car, past the gates, down the street. 

From your month at Ares’s house, you’ve learned that the people in the surrounding houses are nothing more than drug addicted humans. No reason to try to get help from them. You run until an old telephone box appears in the distance. If there’s one phone number you’ve had to memorize, it’s Silas. You’re surprised he hasn’t tattooed it on you to make sure you don’t forget. 

You know that you should call the police. You really should … but you have a feeling that they won’t be much help. If there’s one that will help you at all cost … it’s Silas. He will do what it takes. You can’t waste this opportunity on something and someone that might not work.  

You rip the glass door open and grab the phone. 

“A quarter?” you pant in panic, looking around. “I don’t have a quarter!”

To your big surprise, someone must have dropped one while fumbling with their wallet before you. You pick up the shiny coin and press it into the slot before hurrying to press in the phone number.

“Please pick up, please”, you plead, panting. Your entire body is jittering, you can’t stand still. “Please, Silas!”

Finally, the long signals break. Silence.

"Hello?" you pant.

"Y/N?" Silas gasps.

A weird relief flows through you when hearing his voice. You hadn't realized that you had … missed it. 

 "I was wondering who had gotten my private number!" he continues quickly. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"Ares wants to take me out of the country — to Spain! He wants to leave tomorrow. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you! You were right about him-"

"Where are you?"

You give him the description of the place while he forces his men to track the call. You crouch down while sobbing. Your entire body trembles.

"Don't worry, baby, I will get you", Silas comforts you. "You'll be safe soon, okay? Just hold out for me. I'll be-"

"Deposit another quarter to keep the call going."

"Fuck!" you shout and slam the phone back in its place. 

Everything seems so quiet again. You open the phone box to get some fresh air when you see him. He's standing with his back leaned against the glass cubicle. You freeze.

"You're not a good actor, Y/N", Ares says with a small smile. "You heard everything I said in my phone call that night. You couldn't fool me."

"You were going to smuggle me out of the country and sell me!" you say through gritted teeth. "Silas was right about you. You are jealous of him, want everything he has. But you'll never have that. You're just a copycat."

Ares stands up and takes a step closer. He towers over you like a predator. You force yourself to stand your ground while glaring at him. 

"A copycat?" he asks, raising his eyebrows testingly. You can hear how he's trying his best to stay calm. "How can I copy someone who isn't deserving of anything? He doesn't deserve even half of the things he's gotten. Not his empire, not his wealth, not his reputation, not you."

You gulp, but train your glare on him.

"And you do, or what?" you question.

"I've actually decided to keep you", Ares says with raised eyebrows. "I'm not going to sell you. How could I? Not after you've been so good to me, actually giving me attention for once. Do you know how sick I am of hearing 'Silas this', 'Silas that'? Despite disowning him, my parents still talk about him constantly! It's always been that way. No one cares what Ares does." He points at you. "You listened to me. You had a good time spending time with me — don't try to lie about it — and I'm not letting you go. I'm not going to be alone again. Silas doesn't take care of you in the way I do. In one month, I've fixed what he's destroyed. Unlike him, I give you freedom. I give you what you want. Silas didn't give you a TV, didn't even let you out of your fucking bedroom! He never answered your questions, I do."

"You tricked me. That day you stumbled into the house the only time we were there wasn't a coincidence, was it? Or the day you met us at the gas station? Your friends had told you, hadn't they? Because if they hadn't, how would you just happen to have a lock pick just when I needed one? You pretended that you were nice to lure me away from Silas, but you're just as bad as him."

"So why do you try to go back to Silas, hm? If he's as bad as me? If you can love him, you can love me too, if you are so persistent that we're the exact same."

"Because at least Silas doesn't pretend to be someone else and would never even think about selling me. But since you're so money hungry, Ares, what do you work with? Your companies. They're not legal, are they? None of the money you have is clean, like you pass them as."

"Silas money isn't clean either. If you're going to call me a scum, you better take a good, hard look at your boyfriend. He has people killed, tortured and manhandled. I don't do that. The worst thing I do is put people into debt, I do not kill."

"People die because of that — and that is your fault. You're both bad, don't pretend to be someone honest." Your eyebrows twitch. "For your information, I would never go to Spain with you, even if I didn't know what a total psychopath you are."

Ares smiles a predatory smile that makes your veins turn to ice. "You're going to Spain with me if I have to drag you by your hair."

You give him one last glare before you run. He sets off after you, grabbing you by your arm. He folds it and reaches for the other while kicking the back of your knees. You fall together and give him just enough time to lock you in place. 

He drags you back to his house where his car is already being loaded with bags. A big box is standing on the grass with its lid open.

"If you hadn't been such a pain, Y/N, I wouldn't have to do this", he pants and pushes you into the box, closing it from the outside. "You could have sat beside me in first class, but now you go with the luggage."

You hit, kick and punch. Stars shoot from the pain.

"Let me out!" you shout. "Ares!"

Silence. You can hear the engine of a car starting and disappearing into the distance. And then comes back.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice shouts.

Silas.

You start to kick and punch the wooden box again, shouting back. Soon, the lid opens and you are met by Silas’s worried face. You have never been so happy to see him before. 

"Oh, Y/N …", he breathes out and lifts you up, hugging you tightly. "My baby."

You cry against his body. He squeezes you in his arms, making sure that you really are real. He examines your poor knuckles, giving them a kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. 

"Ares was going to take me to Spain", you sob.

"Yes, you said something about that on the phone. We'll talk more about it later, okay? Now we need to get you home."

You look around in horror. "Where is Ares?"

"Not here, don't worry. If there's one thing about him that he can't change, it's that he's the biggest coward you'll ever meet. I saw him in his car driving past, shouting that you were here. He'd rather blow off his entire operation than get caught."

You breathe out. Silas hangs his coat over your shoulder before placing his arm around you.

"Let's get you home", he says and kisses your temple. "It's about time. Ive missed you so fucking much. I haven’t been able to sleep without you, I’ve been so scared that Ares had killed you. I’ll cut off his hands for touching you. I’ll pluck out his eyes for looking at you, I promise."

“I’ve missed you too”, you admit and wipe your tears. “He tricked me. I’m sorry.”

Silas kisses your lips and caresses your cheek without saying anything. You can see tears in his eyes, for the very first time.

A paper on the ground catches your attention, but before you have time to look at it, Silas asks about what happened and you have to put it in your pocket.

"He has infiltrated your organization", you say as Silas helps you into the front seat. "He has spies in your group who report to him." You tell him the entire story. "He wanted to smuggle me to Spain to sell em to one of your enemies …"

"Bastard", Silas mutters and hits tye instrumental plate with his palm. "He knows I'm banned from there."

"Why?" 

Silas is about to tell you that you shouldn't worry about it, but then sighs. "A murder or two. But that doesn't matter. I'm just happy that you managed to escape him in time to call me. If you hadn't … I probably wouldn't have gotten you back.”

You fiddle with your fingers guiltily in your lap. "I'm sorry for not believing you …"

"Don't be. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you along. I shouldn’t have thought that he’d give up. Ares is a master manipulator. That's why his businesses are going so well. He knows how to manipulate his way into getting what he wants. He played on your insecurities and fears. I should have protected you better.”

“What will happen to him?”

“I’ll let that cowardly cockroach slip away this time. But the next time I see him, I will kill him.” Silas takes your hand with his free one. “From here on, I’ll make sure it never happens again. I’ll get better security and I’ll make sure we can do more stuff … to make sure that you aren’t locked in the bedroom all the time.”

“That sounds nice …” you say quietly. 

You sit in silence for a while. Suddenly, you remember the paper in your pocket. You pick it out and fold it open. For a few seconds, you’re sure that you can’t breathe. 

'I will come back for you and when I do, it’s going to be bloody'

[explicit-tae]

hii 😭 im imagining jungkook as a church boy who is so attracted to the reader that he thinks he’s sinning right before the lords eyes

honestly let's talk about it because now that you said it all i can imagine is...

Repent

Adventures of Jeon Jungkook and the new girl who attends the church retreat - and who is also determined to fuck him.

Warning: church boy jungkook, very shy boy, reader has ulterior motives of course, reader obviously has a corruption kink, dry humping, slight masturbation,

The first time Jungkook has laid his eyes upon you, he noticed there was a shift.

You weren't from here, Jungkook notes. He knows everyone at this church and has yet to know who you were. It only takes a quick word from you to know that this isn't what you usually indulge in.

Y/L Y/N was your name and you've volunteered simply because of your sweet grandmother - the same one who baked such delicious treats for all the children on this trip. She had introduced the two of you and you have given him a smile that causes his heart to jolt suddenly.

Jungkook had to stay away from you and that was his only option. To think that he - a man - had to stay away from you was absurd. However, it was true. Your presence causes an unbalance in his life.

The first unbalance had been when he saw you again. Again, you only volunteered because your grandmother insisted. It was summer and the church always went on a week retreat deep in the woods to be one with nature and naturally, it was hot.

And of course, naturally, your legs were showing.

Legs and shoulders.

Was this where Jungkook's life was going? Him being attracted to any ounce of skin that he had to physically remove himself from the situation entirely.

Jungkook grew up in this church, his parents attending every and any event there was. He was a religious person who stuck to themselves - even as he reached adulthood. That didn't mean he didn't have friends that weren't apart of the church - and as soon as he began to feel things, he called them.

Jungkook's friends had laughed at him. He always hated being the youngest one in said group. Jimin had teased him the entire phone call. Namjoon was trying to keep everyone at bay, but it was no use. "You're acting like a little virgin, Kookie." was Taehyung's words. "Act like you had pussy before, please."

Jungkook decides that his friends were going to be of no help. They didn't grow in the church like he had and had to constantly think about what God thought about his actions - how perverted his mind was going whenever he saw you. Like when you gotten on your knees to pick something up and his mind instantly flashed to you on your knees for him in a less than holy way.

"It's normal to feel these things. You're a man, Kook." Namjoon had assured him over the phone. He's unsure if he'd be able to stay the entire week if he had to keep seeing you and imagining filthy ways to have you.

"You're an artist...why don't you draw what you're feeling?" Yoongi had suggested - and that idea felt ludicrous. He was feeling aroused by you and the only way to release it, by his older friends' thoughts, were to draw it out?

Jungkook had - and at the end of it all he felt like a horrible human being. But once his pencil started to sketch, he couldn't bring himself to stop. While everyone else remained asleep in their respected parts of the cabin, he had been up drawing you.

The drawing started sweet - you smiling just the way Jungkook remembered. You looking out into the distance and even one of you eating one of your grandmothers' infamous cookies.

It went downhill when his mind flashes once more of you on your knees and his hand moves quickly, sketching out the perverse thoughts into his notebook. His mind thinks about what your body would look like underneath your clothes. He draws what he imagines your pretty face would appear if contorted with pleasure, your eyes barely able to remain open...

Before Jungkook knew it, it was morning, and his room shines brightly thanks to the sun. He had slammed his sketchbook shut and hid it deep in his suitcase, a part of his ashamed of what he wasted the entirety of his night on.

"Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook stiffens when he hears your voice directly beside him. He turns slowly, as if afraid. Doe eyes stare at you for a moment and it's only when you speak again does he answer. "Y-Yes. I'm Jungkook."

Jungkook thinks he could melt when you offer him a smile. "Can I see them?"

"H-Huh?"

"I was told you draw."

The color leaves Jungkook's face and he eyes you once more, unsure on who told you that.

"The kids," you turn to the table full of children doing arts and craft. "said Kookie is the best artist here."

Jungkook hearts beat outside his chest and slowly he nods. "I-I can show you." he says, swallowing his nerves. "It's in my room. I'll go get them-"

"I can come." you smile. "I don't want to burden you and have you walk all the way there and back."

Jungkook's heart is beating outside his chest at having you in his room. On the way there he had texted his friends about it, asking for any advice on not passing out - and all he received was vulgar things to do while the two of you were alone; they were never any help.

"These are nice." you compliment, flipping through the countless drawings he had - some of scenery and landscaping, some an assortment of flowers or even fruit. You're laying on your stomach as you flip through them, your legs swaying back and forth behind you. Jungkook thinks they'd feel soft if he ever had a chance to touch them. "Do you draw people, as well?"

"Sometimes." Jungkook's cheeks flush and he wonders if maybe you knew just how much of a pervert he was - why else would you ask these questions? Maybe he should apologize before you accuse him of anything.

"Can I see them?"

There it was - you were gathering evidence. Jungkook swallows thickly, unsure of what to say or do; maybe he should start praying as God would have to be the first to grant his forgiveness. He swallows thickly going through an internal battle with himself.

"Are you scared of me?"

Jungkook glances away at your question. He wants to say that he was - that you were far too beautiful for him to be too close to. Even now he finds it quite difficult to not stare at your legs and admire how femininely woman they look in your shorts. But then he would be questioned further and how could he tell you about the perverted thoughts he has? "I-I..."

"I'm not a very...religious person. I'm sure you know." you speak, closing the sketchbook he has given you that displayed his mild artwork. "I hope you don't think I'm a bad person." you continue, now lying on your back, eyes blinking upwards at him.

"Never!" Jungkook insist, snapping his head back to you quickly. "I'm...just...awkward around new people." he admits, not wanting you to think he didn't like you because of how you lived your life.

You smile at him, eyes unreadable to Jungkook. "So, you wouldn't judge me for what I want to say?"

"Of course not." Jungkook responds meekly. "You are entitled to say whatever you feel. Only God could judge us!"

"You are right." you nod. "Before the week is over, Jungkook..." you begin, eyes staring right into his dark curious ones. You now bring yourself up to a seated position. He waits for you to continue and he swears that he could hear a pin drop in his room. The suspense was killing him. "...I'm going to get you to fuck me."

You leave Jungkook there for the suspense, giggling to yourself at how wide his eyes were and how terrified he looked. His eyes follow your figure leaving his bedroom, his heart in his ears. He's humiliated that those words caused an erection that he couldn't get to go away for the following 15 minutes.

How couldn't you want someone like Jungkook? The boy was gorgeous and had a body and the face of a man that deserved to be the biggest, conceited asshole - and it made it better that he wasn't. He was a shy individual and appeared to avoid any contact from the opposite sex over the age of 18. Though, there wasn't any woman here that appeared to catch Jungkook's eyes, and yes, you've noticed.

Jungkook's wandering eyes were the reason you chose to wear the tight shirts and shorts, regardless of the disapproving glances from the other church go-ers. You've done anything you could have to make Jungkook talk to you - and when he hadn't after the second day, you told yourself matters had to be taken into your own hands.

"So...a hot girl wants to fuck you?" Jimin asks over the phone. "But you're blowing up my phone?"

"This is serious!" Jungkook hisses over the phone. He needed outside help on how to approach this. "What if this is a joke?"

"A joke?" Taehyung scoffs. "What more does she have to say?"

"She'll have to put her pussy on his face to get his dumbass to get the point." Hoseok grumbles, tired of hearing Jungkook and his made-up problems. "I say you give her what she wants. Fuck her raw and-"

"Can you all please?" Namjoon groans loudly. "You're not being supportive."

"Thanks, hyung."

Jungkook decides to listen to Namjoon and talk to you about it - later on in the night. Now you were helping your grandmother set up the food table with the meals she's spent hours preparing that would be served only after the service.

"Kookie!" one boy says, running right into him. "Take a picture of us!"

Jungkook nods, a soft smile on his lips. He was on photography duty and had to make sure enough pictures were taken. This will get his mind off of you, surely.

Jungkook snaps countless pictures throughout the night, making sure everyone was a part of it. In the back of his mind, you remained - your admission to wanting to...sleep with him was weighing heavily.

In the camera lengths Jungkook see's you, already looking his way. Slowly, he lowers it from his face and his eyes meet yours for the first time since this morning. You and here stood across the room but even he could see that you wanted him to notice you.

Jungkook glances away from you and to two more kids running past him. He sighs, stumbling out the way and when he looks back to where you once stood, you were gone.

This is his chance, Jungkook thinks. He could be a little late to the service today. He could never focus if his mind could only think of you.

Jungkook goes towards the direction of where your room would be, the hallway long and quiet. It's vacant as everyone is in the dining hall for service soon. His nerves are kicking his ass, and he contemplates if he should turn around now.

Jungkook stops outside your room door. It's cracked and a bit of light shines behind it. He goes to knock on your door when he finds you - only you were naked, your clothes sprawled on the floor. His breath hitches as you lay on the bed, your legs wide open for him to see.

Jungkook wants to run away and forget that he has seen you in such a vulnerable state, but his body doesn't move. His eyes are unblinking and solely focused on the way your fingers begin to play with yourself.

Your breast appears so full and he imagines how nice they'd feel in the palms of his hands. Your nipples are erect due to the slight coolness of the room this evening and his mouth salivates on just how he imagines his tongue circling them until they're swollen.

Jungkook was a pervert - he was going to have to repent after this. He finds that he cannot move from his spot, watching you play with yourself. One hand grips your breast while the free one begins to enter two fingers inside of you. Your moans fill the room and it's a melodic tune that he wants to hear over and over and over again.

Jungkook's pants are tight, his erection begging for a release from the prison that was his underwear.

"Kookie?"

Jungkook nearly jumps from his skin when you say his name, eyes staring at the cracked door where he stood in the darkness. Maybe if he didn't respond you'd think that he wasn't there.

"Come in." you say, lifting yourself from laying on your bed to sitting on it. "You don't have to be afraid."

"I-I'm so sorry!" Jungkook says from the door, not moving an inch. His heart is pounding and damn it he was afraid. You were becoming to much to handle and his friends were right - he was acting like some virgin teenager that didn't experience this with a girl before.

And truly, it was only a few times with a girlfriend he had that didn't work out. Maybe he should have listened to his friends and not propose to her at their young age; but what were they expecting a religious person like Jungkook to do?

You were going to have to initiate everything, you note. But that's okay - you loved the shy ones like Jungkook. You could only imagine the way he'll whimper beneath you.

You swing the door open, just as naked as before. Jungkook is frozen and his breathing increases. He tears his eyes away from you, dark cheeks. "P-Please don't hate me."

"You're so silly." you laugh. "Why would I hate you?"

Jungkook feels ready to explode when you wrap your arms around his neck. Your chest is against his and you're so close that he can smell a vanilla scent on your skin - he has a good nose, and he just certain it's the warm vanilla collection.

You're teasing him, your tongue poking out from your lips to lick at his neck. "Do you want me to stop?" you asks him - you weren't going to do anything to the man while he was crying the entire time.

"It's...this is fine." Jungkook murmurs meekly.

"You don't sound sure." you tease. "Do you not like me?"

"I-I do!" Jungkook is quick to say. "I just don't want to force you into anything."

You mentally sigh - he wasn't helping you not want him. You want to coo at how cute Jungkook was. To think he didn't want to force you into anything after you've gone this far.

"We have five days left of this trip." you murmur, tongue against his neck. It circles the nape of it. "You aren't going to keep me waiting, right? That wouldn't be nice."

Jungkook whimpers when he feels your teeth biting his neck and it does nothing but make you want to ruin the man further.

"I want you to take some pictures of me." you tell Jungkook, leaning back to look into his eyes. "Some pictures that are for...your eyes only."

Jungkook gulps, his cock jumps in his pants. "O-Okay." is all he could muster up to say.

You remove your arms from his neck and nod to the camera around his neck. "Then start." you tell him.

Jungkook's hands are trembling when he does as you ask him to. He snaps several pictures of your naked body, you are posing in such provocative positions that he's unsure if this is real or a sick, perverted dream of his.

"Now," you clap your hands. "I want to take some pictures of me in a different P.O.V."

Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. "I-"

You pull him onto the bed, caging him between your things. Your pussy is right against his clothed erection, and he yelps when he feels you sit directly on top of him. "Take them."

Jungkook knows these pictures were going to be blurry. His palms are sweaty as he snaps a few more pictures of you directly on top of him. The sight is forever going to be drawn into his mind - naked body on top of his, breast on fully display as you look down on him with such a lustful look in your eyes.

"I-I can't get the right pictures if...if you keep moving." Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. You were grinding against him and through the lenses he watches the way your pussy humps against him.

"Sorry," you murmur. "you just feel good."

Jungkook drops the camera at your words, and you could only snort, but you don't stop your grinding. Your eyes force his to watch you, hands clenching into his shoulders as you beginning to add pressure and speed to your humping. "I can't feel it enough."

Jungkook was going to die here - he's sure of it. One hand removes itself from his shoulder and you slightly lift yourself up so you could yank down his pants. You weren't going to stop there and before you know it, Jungkook's underwear's is yanked just as fast.

"I-I-"

Jungkook winces when he feels you sit directly onto him, your folds against the shaft of his cock. You're wet and warm - he's never felt anything without a condom on.

Your hips begin to buckle, grinding against his shaft. Jungkook's cheeks are bright red with embarrassment and his hands hover above your hips, afraid to touch you. "You're acting like you never touched a woman before."

Jungkook swallows, resting his hands onto your grinding hips. "N-Not one like you." he admits - someone so bold and beautiful who knew exactly what she wanted.

You giggle, then moan. Your hips circle around Jungkook's cock and wished that something so beautiful was inside of you - but you were patient enough to wait. You didn't want to overwhelm the boy more than you were already.

"Don't be afraid to touch me, Kookie." your mouth is so close to his that he wants to connect your lips. He could feel your breath against his face, tickling him as you moan.

Jungkook's hand roam your body, his palm vibrating with anticipation. He grips on the flesh of your ass, whimpering at how soft it was all the while you grinded against him. He roams them up past your hips and towards you back to them cast them down your sides to grip your breast.

"You're very beautiful..." Jungkook whimpers once more, body hot with pleasure. "...so so beautiful."

Jungkook's embarrassed that he can feel himself about to cum, but that was alright because you were determined to cum along with him. You take the initiative to connect your lips to Jungkook's in a needy kiss, your hips buckling with such need.

Humping usually wasn't what you settled for - but Jungkook was just too hot (and shy) to not tease and mess with. You're cumming all over him, creaming against his cock that he cannot help but do the same, hot cum falling all over his abdomen like a hormonal pathetic teenager.

"I can't wait to feel your cum in me." you murmur against his lips and Jungkook swears that alone could make him hard again.

i love leaving my stories on a cliffhanger at the best part

[allfearstofallto]

The way you write yandere childe makes me literally salivate omg <333 would you mind doing any of A, C, D, H, N, O, W, or Z for him? I hope you don’t feel pressured to write all or any if you don’t want to 😭

No pressure at all friend!! I love writing for Childe!! Trust me! I've been waiting for someone to ask for him!!!

TW: Dub/Non-Con, NSFW, Violence against reaader

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Childe always has cold hands. You know this, because his hands are always on you. There isn't a moment where Childe is near you where he's not touching you.

It could be something as simple as interlocking his fingers with yours or going as far to force kisses upon you, ones where it feels like he's trying to swallow you whole with his tongue down your throat.

He says he just can't keep his hands off of you and that truly does seem to be the case. His cold fingers always find a way to snake themselves onto some part of your body. A sign of affection yes, but also a warning.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He took you because he loves you and wants you near, but Childe isn't against matching the energy you give him. He's playful at heart, after all, but even that has it's limits.

Being soft towards you is his original goal, he wants to pamper you and adore you while you're less than a few feet away. But shoot him glares or fight him off? He can do the same, the only difference is, he's stronger.

He knows that physical wounds will always heal, but that words last forever, so even when he hurts you, he tells you how much he still loves and cares about you. He's only doing this because you can't seem to stop acting up.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Childe's presence alone is against your will. He knows that, so he makes sure to always be near you. Who would've thought that such an annoying man could actually be a Fatui harbinger?

Around every corner, behind every door, it seems like he's even in every room. Childe is always there, even when you don't want him to be. He does many things that you hate, kissing you, hugging you, forcing his affection onto you whenever he pleases, but the worst thing he does is be there.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

It was just a smile. That's what you told him, but that's what he refused to believe.

You smiled at the man with the funny hat. One of Childe's coworkers if you remember correctly. That man shot you a glare and out of pure nerves you smiled back, causing him to look away with his arms crossed. A harmless interaction to you, but one that left your husband fuming.

You were called lots of things that night, slut, bitch, whore. You never smile at him, he'd yell as he fucked you with your face forced against the snowy ground. Your weren't even given the courtesy of a warm bed not when Childe was angry.

You begged him to at least take you indoors. The snow was burning your skin and worst of all, you were embarrassed that someone would see you, but he just scoffed and left another stinging slap on your already sore ass. A whore like you wants to be seen.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Punishments from Childe can either be the most painful thing you've ever experienced, or a joke made to embarrass you. It honestly just depends on what you did and most importantly, how he's feeling.

You've gotten some of the normal ones. Things like spankings and even a version of “time out” where he made you sit in a corner and think on what you did. But you've also been starved for a week with nothing, but water. Sitting at the dinner table, you'd watch him eat his meal, savoring every bite, while your stomach aches from the hunger pains. You could beg, but Childe typically stood true to his words.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As many as he deems necessary. There are the obvious ones, like not being allowed to leave without his permission, eating your meals with him, sharing your bed with him, things that from the outside looking in seem normal, but are actually just ways for him to have more control over you.

But there are other things he does, things that are a bit more strange. He doesn't like the idea of you even gazing at another man, so all the staff are female. You're dressed to appeal to him, so you wear what he wants you to. Usually things that are revealing in nature, showing off your thighs, chest, and midriff.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

The simple answer is yes. And without hesitance too. Childe is strong. Stronger than he looks and much stronger than his carefree attitude would lead most to believe. Despite his strength, he isn't scared or worried about hurting you.

Be careful of how hard you fight, because he fights back harder. He won't hit you back because he wants to, but because he has to. He has to show you that you can't always get your way, that you can't just expect him to treat you with kindness, when you're not doing the same to him.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not intentionally, but it does happen. After trying and failing so many times, after hurting you so much, losing yourself day after day, the light in your eyes is finally gone.

It's one of the only things he regrets. He still has you there, but you're hollow on the inside. One day you're there, the next you're just gone. He does everything in his power to completely bring you back, but he's met with dry, whispery responses from you. He knows that you're truly gone when he tempts you with an easy escape, an open door that you could walk out of with no hassle. He left, giving you the opportunity to just waltz out without him to stop you. But when he comes back, you're still there. And that door is still wide open.

[lovesickry]

- wish you would.

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x fem!reader [8k] ┈⋆⭒ masterlist! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: 18+, pwp, smut, angst, dickhead lando, dickhead reader, swearing, alcohol consumption, general stupidness. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: this has been brewing for the longest time in the depths of my brain istg, its a long one.

your relationship with lando recently, had more or less been……tainted. by some imaginary force, but some force nonetheless. 

-

you’d fallen out of touch simply and quickly but you missed him, as any “friend” would do. moping about in the house you shared with max and him, it wanst fucking fair, he didnt get to do this to you. It had been four weeks since you last heard from him, max was god knows where, off with Lando and here you sat.

it was just fucking miserable. Four weeks ago you were in fucking ibiza and now your bestfriend hated you, so your life definitely wasn’t going as you thought it would have.

Didnt help that on the last time you saw him you may or may not have fucked in a bathroom stall and then just pretended nothing happened the rest of your trip. Though when the season started again he didn’t respond to a single one of your texts, or quite literally communicate with you in any way whatsoever.

//// communication over the past few weeks:

4 weeks ago:

hey lando was the the flight back alright?

lando?

3 weeks ago:

are you alive?

max told me you're alive so what is it then?

2 weeks ago

oh come on lando

LANDO?

you can't just ignore me and fucking see max every weekend are you joking?

A week ago:

can you just talk to me?

you were practically furious, after the confusion went away, after the tears went away you were just furious. with him, how he treated you.

-

Originally you had tried to brush it off, that it was just him coming to terms with his breakup with luisa and you being (so you thought) the first person he had been with since, but the breakup was 4 months prior to Ibiza and you couldn't dismiss it as a simple "fuck". Not with all your history.

The worst part though, you remembered every little detail.....every time his skin touched yours, every single thing he whispered in your ear, each time he did something that made your stomach tighten or the hairs on your neck stand up. It would've been easier if you hadn't thought about that night, but that would be a lie. It sat there in the corners of your mind every waking moment and you couldnt shake it and now he wouldnt even fucking talk to you. Asshole. You'd be seeing Lando in a week nonetheless, he couldn't exactly avoid you considering you lived in the same house and he would be in the country. Though you couldn't count on it, considering the lengths he's went to so far.

-

///// FOUR WEEKS AGO- {Ibiza. Following the Spanish Grand Prix.}

his laughs were muffled as his mouth hits yours, his hands guiding you against the furthest wall of the bathroom. the music was loud and you could still hear it through the concrete walls of the bathroom.

it was lit by purple light and as you pulled back, now flush against lando and opened your eyes you swore lando looked less like a man and more like something else entirely. his hands were on your hips far too fast for somebody who hasn’t thought about this before, wanting to kiss every inch of your neck as your hands grabbed and tugged lightly at his curls. every noise he made was heaven, every touch a gift.

-

“I want to be inside you”

You could've sworn that comment made you blush, or atleast freeze up a little. Your stomach coiling and heating as he met your gaze. Fucking hell. His lips were puffy, his hair a mess. 

He had never looked better a day in his life, you were frantic the way you kneeled in front of him to undo his belt and then his trousers. 

“Fuck look at you”

“Oh my god”

If you weren't wet you sure were now, Lando had one of those mouths that was rarely closed and in this case you were glad for it. He wasn't afraid to make noises with you either, each rhythmic sound leaving his mouth dug the hole deeper and deeper.

By the time Lando was stripped to his boxers and you to your bra and panties he was desperate, making it known just how much he wanted, needed you. his hands were having trouble staying still and yours were roaming all across his stomach while he repeated your name in you ear, like a mantra.

He was searing hot, the muscle on his stomach was flushed and you could feel him grimacing in your neck the longer your hands lingered on a particular place. The minute your hands drifted down to where you needed him most he made a kind of pleased breathy nose, squeezing at the skin of your waist. 

“You’re so fucking hot” you say to him, figuring its about time he knows the effect he has on you as well. Hands drifting lower, under the band of his boxers, hes painfully hard, tip sensitive and pink as you pull his boxers down. He drawls out a long fuck, before pulling you in for one more kiss and then pushing you impossibly closer to the wall.

“Tell me if it hurts okay”

What you would've thought as cocky coming out of anyone's mouth, was sincere coming out of Lando’s, he was……significantly big. As he finally pushed into you, holding the back of your head as to not let it hit the wall he whispered sweet filth into your ear.

“Good girl”

“You can take it”

“So good”

“fuck”

It was all too much, as he bottomed out finally you already felt close and as he moved. Oh god it was already perfect, the buildup and finally this. His body moved rhythmically, controlled and delicious. His hands were mainly used to hold you in place, while yours found the places he liked to be touched most and paid attention to those, relishing in the tiny noises he made in response to you. You could tell Lando was getting close when his thrusts started getting sloppier, less regular, more effort, at that point you brought a hand to your clit, rubbing small circles, trying to read when he was cumming so you could cum too.

“I'm getting close” he choked out, god his words alone coiled your stomach further.

“I’ll come when you do” you say, nodding at him. 

“Fuck-yes” another breathy line of speech, followed by sloppy, messy thrusts and some audible groans. 

Finally you feel him, pulsing inside of you and you know hes just there, just about there. 

“Im-” he goes to say, but you already know.

“Yeah. fuck. Please” your desperate now.

You come with your eyes closed, legs shaking and the feeling of warmth filling your stomach as Lando pulls out and youre met with the blurred sight of a supremely dishevelled Lando whos basically holding you upright and grinning at you so fucking hard youre sure his cheeks would hurt. You lean slightly forward, resting your forward on his shoulder, still breathing hard, heart beating much too fast than normal.

“Why didn't we do that any fucking sooner?” he says, his body shaking slightly, from ecstasy but also from the laugh that rocks his body.You can't help but grin at the comment, feeling the effect of post-orgasm and also from the alcohol earlier. Getting your clothes on is a clumsy, messy endeavour and you both look entirely suspicious when you exit the large bathroom still in fits of giggles. 

-

///// NOW- London. Week of the Silverstone Grand Prix

you recalled the moment with complete contentment, there wasn't a moment you could pinpoint that could warrant this reaction from him. sure he could be feeling a bit confused but seriously?

the text from max announcing that they were on their way was a kind gesture but fundamentally futile. as much as you could avoid Lando you would have to talk to him at one point of another, living arrangements in mind.

The ten minutes awaiting their arrival were ones of complete disdain and anxiousness. Followed by deciding you would go out for a walk to miss them entering the house, leaving just as you heard the front door opening, texting max you were out for a walk. You hoped that by walking at least around the block, maybe you'd clear your mind slightly, being out in nature and all. You walked for about an hour, until the sun started to go down and you figured you should probably go home. The walk had helped slightly, Lando was now only a part of much bigger problems you'd formed in your head. Entering the front door and immediately hearing Lando’s laugh instilled something within you. You were never quiet but in this moment you were, Lando spotted you as he waved to Max in the kitchen and immediately walked towards you. Pulling you into a surprising hug, even Max was shocked, knowing of the circumstances over the last few weeks. Your hands stayed at your sides while he hugged you, not wanting to reciprocate something that was not genuine. After pulling away he went back to wherever he was and Max simply raised his eyebrows at you before shrugging his shoulders. You ate dinner in your room and didn't hear from him all night.

The morning was strange? Lando was almost normal? Like nothing had happened the past weeks, like he had fucking ignored you. You couldn't tell if it was encouraging or unsettling. He sat next to you and asked you about what you’d been up to and genuinely seemed interested. The ignored messages nagged at the back of your mind, bring it up, bring it up. You never did, Max watched on in quiet surprise as the conversation flowed. Not once was the communication, or lack thereof over the past few weeks mentioned. Undeniably odd. The only normal thing that occurred all day was the momentous decision of which Lando decided to pull you away for a chat, you could finally hash it out.

“Sorry i just wanted to say”

He cleared his throat. 

“About IBiza”

“Lando-” you go to say, wanting to apologise for gods know what as if you both weren't complicit in your actions and happily so.

“No, I never should’ve crossed the line, fucked with what we have, I'm sorry i ignored you. That was shitty, but I just felt so fucking awful I couldn't shake it. Im sorry”

Your stunned silent, hoping your emotions aren't displayed as clear as you feel them on your face. so the way he was articulating now was that he didnt like you like the way you wish he would?

“Oh” it's a small response in comparison to the quite large statement he just made. You reflect on his words “fucked with what we have”, of course he just wanted to be friends.

You snap out of it, conjuring up a much more deserving response for him.

“Of course. No its okay Lan, thanks for saying something. I always like to know your heart is still beating though”

He lets slip a grin.

“You wish it wasn't sometimes”

“Maybe”

“Yeah piss off”

Just like that it was back to normal, you spent the rest of the day hanging out with Max and Lando watching shit movies and listening to Lando’s many racing stories. The London Grand Prix was this week and talk about it was already riling you up, knowing you were getting a paddock pass with Lando practically made you giddy. You'd always been into the sport having had done karting briefly in your youth but then your parents moved to London and you never really got quite back into it. Thus, there was only so many quips you could make on top of Lando’s stories. The day grew old and soon you were all gathered in your kitchen screaming at each other as Max fought with you over the wooden spoon. 

“This is why I cook and you set the table” you said, tugging the spoon towards you. 

“I don't wanna set the table”

You laughed at this, Lando too. His tone of voice was childish, mocking almost. You yield and let him stir the sauce as you set the table.

-

You ate mostly in comfortable silence or small talk, everyone was obviously hungry. After dinner you agree on accompanying Lando to the track the next day. Something that you were undeniably and overwhelmingly excited for, having not gone to a race for a few months and being interested in the sport.

He streamed that night and you would've been annoyed going to bed listening to him chatter on and on had it not been him. But it was him and you loved that he made noise, the reassurance that he was here and not miles away.

The birds seemed to puncture the bubble that encased you in sleep as you groggily rose and opened the blinds, revealing the already blinding summer sun.

Treading from your room to the kitchen to boil the kettle was a silent and pivotal start to your morning, though your morning routine was upheaved by the sight of Lando standing bare, all except his boxer shorts in the kitchen. Leant against the counter tops you could see his bronze chest and the taut muscle that you once so diligently set your fingers upon. The silence of you standing and taking in the sight was interrupted by the sound of the kettle whistle, his body jolted to life, halting the sculpted like state he seemed to be in with your observation.

He ran a hand through his hair, now noticeably ruffled as he reached for a mug from the cupboard. Jutting out another expanse of muscle that you were unprepared for. You realised that you were ogling him quite openly and set forward your feet, your steps were slightly muted by your slippers and you were grateful for the noise to be muffled as you slid in next to him, retrieving your own mug and tea bag from the cupboard. He seemed unphased by your presence, simply nodding at you before looking back at his phone. You were closer to him now and you can see just about every inch of vein and taut skin while you pour the water over the tea-bag, god he's fucking distracting. Lando is jutting his hips out, legs away from the bench as he leans against it. sipping your tea is less relaxing than one might think as you find your eyes darting to any bare skin of Lando's that floods your peripheral vision.

you stood in the kitchen together in comfortable silence for roughly however long it took you to check the notifications that you had received the night before, just as you were conveniently interrupted, lifting your head to listen.

"you excited about today?" he says, smug about his physical state as you nearly struggle for words.

you swallow and form words as fast as you can, lest to make a fool of yourself this early in the morning.

"you're the one racing, are you excited?" its probably a more relevant question, considering.

He scoffs at your question before answering. “well your home grand prix is always mega” He pauses and glances up at you likes hes thinking if what he is about to say is right or not. (he continues) “and you know having you guys at the race is always funner”

you would've been delighted at that fact he had just stated, but he had snuck in you....guys. not just you, not you independently, but you AND max. god you needed to get it out of your head that Lando had any semblance of a romantic feeling for you since Ibiza because clearly the man was as platonic as you could be. you tried as best you could to hide any kind of disappointment which tried to fight its way onto your face.

"More fun?" mocking his english.

It's nowhere near what you yearned to say, but it would do momentarily and he smiled at that, moving closing to you. his warmth radiating, almost uncomfortably in the motionless air that surrounded the kitchen. 

"Did I tell you that Oscar nearly beat me at karting the other day?"

You grin at this, it's the lightness to the conversation that you had been anticipating, wanting nothing more than to get rid of this bright, blaring tension.

“Please do go on.”

You sip your tea as you listen to him recount his story of Oscar beating him in his very own karts, you make effort not to spit out the hot water when Lando says something particular funny and slap him on the shoulder. While he continues on, another random tangent coming to mind you get some things out to make breakfast, might as well get on with the day. Considering you all have to leave here in around 3 hours. 

Lando leaves midway to “put some clothes on” and you fight your muscles urging yourself to turn around and glance one final time at his bronzed skin. He returns clothed and with Max and you present them with your accumulated breakfast, you eat in rather rowdy conversation, Lando opening a whole can of worms he was not prepared for. then you each go get ready respectively to go to track.

-

You arrive at track around 11am and Lando punctually leaves your side, excusing himself to go to the media pen. you seperate yourself from Max and Pietra. Not wanting to third wheel, though also not minding the time alone to simply walk around, you even knew some of the drivers now so it wasn't like you'd have nobody, hopefully? the atmosphere was always alight in the paddock, though you’d developed a habit of pretending to be more important than you were, thus to avoid being approached by much older, much richer men who said they could “look after you”. you run into daniel and you couldn’t be happier, greeting him with a hug. he had been happier since he had re-joined redbull and you’d been overjoyed for him, you’d noticed when he was at mclaren the sheer mental effort it took him not to breakdown sometimes and you’d try as hard as you could being who you were (landos friend) to try and console him. you’d formed a kind of friendship that depended on if lando was with luisa and you’d kind of just hang around with him. he was what everyone said he was; relentlessly kind, endlessy funny and much too charming.

you weren’t ashamed to admit you’d gotten with him a few too many times when he was broken up with his girlfriend, though when you told Lando he was less than impressed, feigning the wounded best friend card for the best of a month, before finally getting over it. but it had never gone further than sex, there was something between you two, something unnameable but tangible that said it when you didn't need to. you were close friends besides that and he was always fun to talk to, you'd missed him around.

"whatcha doing here?"

"just supporting the muppet" (lando) whom he knew and nodded fervently at the reference.

"ohhhhhh"

"haven't seen you in a while, how are ya?"

"pretty good, lando and me just had a falling out but everything's fine now I think"

"shit. what about?"

you pause.

"you don't have to tell me, sorry"

"no no its all good, just-hold on"

you lead him into a semi private corner of the red bull area.

"we kinda had sex"

his face dropped, eyes wide, mouth slack, like a fucking cartoon.

"FINALLY" he says, much too loud and you go to cover his mouth with your hand.

"SHUSH"

"ok sorry" he whispers

"but go on, tell me all the juicy details"

"youre disgusting" you scoff.

he waits for you to continue... and you do.

"okay fine, do you remember Ibiza?"

"yes..." he's smirking now, swaying side to side.

"well we fucked in the bathroom and then he ignored me for four weeks and then he kinda apologised and said that he"

you put your fingers up, making air quotes with your fingers.

"never should've fucked with what we have"

you let that sink in for a second, Daniel clearing processing your words, fair enough.

"fuck that" he says finally, exhaling deeply.

you let out a small laugh and lean against the wall opposite to him.

"literally look" you bring your phone from your pocket, scrolling through and revealing the countless messages that were left unanswered.

"then he just shows up and pretends nothing happens. and okay, im glad he said something, after all that, but it wouldn't have killed him to fucking respond"

"lando is stupid sometimes, as someone on the receiving end. he either gets over it or.... he just fucking comes to his senses" he makes a kind of flowing hand gesture and then continues.

"so he'll either confess his love for you in prince-like fashion or ignore you for the rest of your life"

"great."

"I'm filled with wisdom I know"

"okay but seriously I think I have to go, but just wait for lando to crack or something.

he pauses and tilts his head slightly quirking a brow.

or.. better- juust make him crack."

he's out of the red bull garage, in the middle of the paddock when you grab his arm, he turns to face you.

"okay don't be all cryptic wise one,"make him crack", come on?"

"make him crack"

"what?" exasperation is the best word to use to describe your emotions right now.

"make.him.crack"

god hes so dramatic, his face inching closer.

you roll your eyes.

"how?"

just then, you feel the air move around you as a body walks past. you look up and see the fading papaya of Lando. Though he doesn't aknowledge you, your head is now fully turned staring at the back of Lando. Danny turns to join you and slaps you on the back, you jolt forward.

"think you just did" he walks off, though not before turning once more back to you.

"GOOD LUCK!"

oh christ, you angle your head down, walking wordlessly in the direction to McLaren hospitality to hopefully either see Lando and unpack whatever it was you thought you saw plastered on his face or perhaps see Max and have a pleasant conversation that didn't involve Lando Norris.

you make your way to McLaren hospitality, only stopping to talk to Lily who was just fresh out of a golf tournament, you always looked on in awe as she spoke about it. you quickly found Max and Pietra, mingling and sipping on champagne that you did not want to see the price of. looking over the track you ask the only question you can think of.

"have you seen lando?"

"nah, he came in and then kinda disappeared" max replies.

"maybe his driver's room?" pietra offers.

better than nothing.

would you even be allowed back there?

you somehow weasel your way into the McLaren garage, being asked on numerous occasions what you were doing and who you were simply to respond with; oh, uh, um, I'm Landos friend. you were hopeless but somehow they believed you and you were given one last interrogation by his physio before he recognised you and let you past, finally reaching his door. if he wasn't here, you might just take a nap in his room anyway, deserving resulting of the effort it took to get yourself here. you raise your hand to knock and almost stop yourself but let your fist hit the door. he's flushed when he answers the doors, you can see a slight sheen to his face as you walk in, he stands to the side wordlessly as you pass him.

“pietra and max are so happy it makes me wanna throw up”

trying to hopefully prove daniel wrong and also cut the undeniable tension that seemed to encase both of you. lando let’s out a small laugh at your comment. going to sit down, you follow him across the room.

“I forgot how hot it is” he throws his hands up frantically and flops on the couch.

you open your mouth to respond but nothing seems to flow out. you follow him simply across the room, sitting across from him and meeting the top of his head as he looks down at his feet.

"you okay?" his head jolts up and he shakes it like he wasn't fully listening.

"oh huh... yeah sorry, no im good. you?"

"really you just seem distracted, sorry im not trying to pry I just-" he cuts you off

"maybe you're just distracting me" he's smirking while he says it and you can tell hes joking even if you wish he wasn't.

"oh haha" you say, deadpan, aware of the fact that he could be entirely mocking you.

he laughs again, genuinely this time and you smile at the sound.

"what do you even do in here"

"nothing"

"really?"

"its my favourite thing to do"

"I thought it was sleeping"

"you're so funny"

"I know, I don't get it from you though"

"oh really? who'd you get it from?"

"your old teammate" you joke, though he seems to not be in the mood.

he scoffs but doesnt laugh and his face returns to a formal neutrality.

"oh come on" you say jokingly

"what?" he says fast

you look at him quizzically and he continues, seeming to gather a question from your expression.

"just stop being obsessed with Daniel its gross"

its your turn to get fed up, the audacious nature of his comment making you sick.

"what?"

"he has a girlfriend you can't be fucking flirting with him"

there was a burning anger coming up your throat.

"I wasn't flirting lando, why do you always want to fight"

"I've seen you flirt and you were fucking begging him"

"you're such a fucking hypocrite lando"

"wanna be more specific?"

"ibiza?"

"what about it" his jaw is clenched now and hes stood up, as are you.

"the fact that you were the dragging me into the bathroom and then the one ignoring me for four fucking weeks maybe?"

"you enjoyed it just as much as I did. don't do that"

"yeah I did fucking enjoy it. I enjoyed it enough to not fucking ignore you"

"I didn't fucking ignore you, I just had to sort some things out"

"like what? how many girls you'd bring home with max after the race that I wasn't invited to maybe?"

it was cruel, but he deserved it. it had been brewing for so long, the anxiety you held towards him based solely on the fact that he could've been with somebody after you simply to rid him of you. while you couldn't fathom getting with anybody else, lest the memory of his skin on yours fade anymore.

"oh fuck off don't pretend that you didn't literally fuck daniel for months when he was my teammate"

"AND.. SO WHAT? I told you that, don't rub that in my face."

"SO WHAT? you were fucking my teammate and I pretended that I didn't care"

"you told me you didn't care. you had luisa and I was sick of standing there like I didn't care "

"so you fucked Daniel cause I was with luisa?"

"you're so infuriating"

"why did you fuck him?"

"BECAUSE LANDO"

"BECAUSE WHAT?"

you were standing uncomfortably close now, your fists balling up your skirt as he restlessly tapped his thigh, rhythmically and fast. there was no coherent response you'd figured would be appropriate to reply with, so you didn't.

lando moves closer to you, looking down at you slightly.

"Why Daniel?" his eyes are firm and he places his left hand loosely on your waist.

you finally look up from the ground and notice his pinky just grazing the patch of skin you have uncovered between the shirt and your skirt.

"why?"

its still anger that fuels you when you respond.

"because" your teeth clenching doesn't let you answer, you swallow, take a deep breath and begin again trying to settle slightly.

"because at least to Danny I was his first choice, not his third."

"did Danny say that?"

"say what?"

"that you were his first choice"

"I fucking hate you sometimes"

"you were my fucking first choice, until you went and had sex with my teammate"

"so you can fuck whoever you want and I can fuck.... nobody?"

he scoffs again, hand tightening slightly on your waist.

"fuck anyone but him."

"anyone?"

"anyone"

"so I can fuck Oscar then"

his face resets, eyes hardening again.

"or George maybe, or Carlos."

"don't"

"yeah. don't what lando?"

"don't mock me"

"this is fucking useless"

you go to walk away, though both his hands were suddenly on your waist. his heads tilts as you resettle into the stance you only briefly left.

"you're so fucking infuriating" you say, the most honest thing you'd said since stepping foot in his room

there were no words for what seemed to follow. your eyes met his and there was something that resembled anguish in his and you couldn't see yours but you wanted his hands to stay on you forever. your mind flicked back to ibiza and there was a increasing space in your mind where you wished that lando would close the space between you and just fucking kiss you.

-

there was a knock at the door and lando broke immediate eye contact. walking away from you, your head drifts downwards as anger fills you. anger directed towards yourself for wishing he'd touch you and anger directed at him for behaving like he did. he left swiftly as the person at the door mentioned media and you left the paddock soon after, returning to the quiet house as max and pieta were planning to go out afterwards.

you arrive home in the same flurry of frustration that you left the paddock in, going straight to your room and trying to you guess "sleep it off". after lying horizontal for what felt like hours, you realised it wasn't going to cut it. the frustration which you wished had channeled into sleep and not the constant resurfacing of lando's voice, his hair, his hands, his cock that night in Ibiza. you venture into the kitchen and shamelessly take three shots before walking back and lying down, hoping the alcohol would go straight to your head sending you to sleep. you wished that you had fallen asleep instead of trailing your hand down into your already embarrassingly soaking, aching cunt. though, by your 2nd orgasm the frustration was long gone and all that remained was the five senses and the bed beneath you, blurred by the alcohol and the ecstasy of your second orgasm . just as your breath got shallower and you reached for your second hand to bite down on, your phone, which had sat idly by for most of this endeavour decides to start ringing annoyingly loud. never one for your ringer on its confusing why of all moments its this. begrudgingly, you turn over, expecting your boss or even your mother, definitely not lando.

"what?" you're blunt and you're trying hard to conceal your shallow breaths lest you have to concoct an excuse..

"are you home?" hes equally as unemotional but sounds slightly more desperate.

"yeah" you say, keeping it short as you're still exhausted and slightly glazed with a sheen of sweat.

"why are you so puffed?"

the dreaded question.

"went for a run" the heavily debated answer.

"come open the door"

fuck.

you jolted upright out of bed, throwing on a pair of clothes that could be deemed activewear and running past the bathroom to fix your hair and cover yourself in a scent that wasn't sweat mixed with sex. you swing open the door and try to appear once again, out of breath though from something completely fake. you'd even thrown on a pair of running shoes to really sell it, in the off chance that he'd sniff out the lie that you feared and then convince himself he won. his face is blank as you open the door to reveal him still clad in his McLaren kit from today. he looks at you suspiciously up and down before entering wordlessly.

“did i have that much of an effect on you, that you had to get yourself off?”

"I went for a run"

"sure you did"

your eyes widen as he makes the connection, unsure of how he seemed to know, though nonetheless being fueled with anger of his sheer audacity and vulgarity at just about everything. knowing exactly what would tick him off in this moment you did just that.

“maybe it was danny”

“liar” he mutters under his breath

you walk back to your bedroom where you promptly close the door, he follows you most of the way thoigh doesn’t knock on your door, simply passes by. you get out of your clothes and throw on a big t shirt before throwing something on the tv and trying not to get yourself off for the third time today, hating your body because no matter the anger there was still a tangible heat in your core that nagged at you to be fixed.

you must of dozed off because when you woke up your stomach was rumbling and you couldn't for the life of you remember any of the past plot that had led up to the current point that was being shown and your stomach was now aching to be fed. you check the clock which reads 9:46pm and you smile to yourself for being so responsible as you tread out to the kitchen to eat frankly whatever is available. lando appears to be still in his room which lets you breath a little easier as you make some toast for yourself. you hear landos door creak and crane your neck around to see if he exits or not, you spy the quick movement that he makes from his room to the bathroom as he shuts the bathroom door. shortly after, to avoid any awkwardness you dash back to your room after quickly consuming your feast of toast.

your door is slightly ajar as you spot lando making a beeline towards it. you sigh as you only imagine what he is about to say as he opens the door.

"tell me that you weren't flirting with him today"

"lando" you say, partly in questioning, partly in confusion.

"you know" he says, desperately this time, creeping slower towards you.

"I was talking to him about you" you say, quite frankly relishing in the feeling it gives to him any kind of humiliation.

he's stunned silent, though his face paints a faint distrust.

"don't make me cocky" the switch he makes from neutral to smug nearly gives you whiplash.

"talking to him about how to make you "crack" or something"

something twitches within him, like you've caught him during something.

"and how exactly did you plan on doing that?"

you ponder the question but realise lying would do more than truth.

"I think I already have"

he scoffs at that but his eyebrows and jaw is slack and you gain confidence at the sight. moving towards him his eyes follow your every move, scanning over your bare legs and the bare skin where the shit has slid down your shoulder revealing your collar bone. your hands land just above his waistband and he leans towards your touch as your hands circle just above it. drifting ever so slightly up to feel the taut muscle below his shirt. his jaw is clenched as he gains control once more and suddenly grips both of your wrists in his hands. really looking at you now, taking the sight of you in.

"don't"

"why?"

"you're my best friend"

"we passed "friends" in ibiza"

he takes a step backwards towards the wall, throwing his hands out in exasperation.

"fuck you make me so fucking angry, "

he takes a breath and continues, looking at you now.

"I shouldn't look at Daniel like I wanted to kill him just because he talked to you."

his body twitches once again towards you as he opens his eyes to meet yours.

"do you want me to say how good he was?" you say, blaming the alcohol from earlier for your vulgarity.

his eyes flash black and you smile, finally yielding the reaction that lando seemed to get from you.

"bet he wasn't as good as me"

"hmm.... wanna refresh my memory?" its bold but you don't care.

just like that lando steps out of the doorway and closes it behind him, coming straight towards you.

"do you want me too?"

"hm maybe he was better?" you're still teasing because frankly, he still deserves it and you hate to say again but you relish in the feeling you take from it.

"don't act all cute" lando says, voice straining.

with that comment you make a small stride towards him, once again closing the gap between the two of you, though instead of aiming for his waistband you go for the neck.

“don’t pretend that you don’t like it” you say, your breath fanning his neck as he either tries to centre himself or allow you to do whatever it is you’re doing to him. your nose grazing the skin of his neck and he visible shivers, goosebumps littering the skin that you just grazed. it was no secret Lando’s neck was fucking sensitive and you’d always saved the information for a rainy day, today was fucking pouring. you skimmed the right side of Lando’s neck with your tongue, barely touching, only the slightest bit, then focused in on smaller spots kissing around to the left side and then coming up and moving over, he made little sound, though he made clear note that he was holding it in, his hands so harshly by his side, shoved into his pockets to keep himself from touching you, he needed to be the one to break, you wouldn't, accept anything else. so when you finally reached a spot just underneath his jaw, left of his now bobbing throat, he let out a strangled groan/whimper/laugh and you knew that was the first domino to fall. that, noise which brought his hand out of his pockets and onto your hips. the noise which encouraged you to knot of your hands into his hair just how you know he liked it.

"don't make me beg" he says, finally breaking the impenetrable silence by a whisper, a low mumbled sequence of words that makes your core tighten shamelessly.

you break apart finally and look at him; wanton and desperate, neck red and hair messy. his shirt once droopy and casual, now clung to the parts of him that you wished you could see. his shoulders, his chest, his arms. you admired him for a lost amount of time before ever debating the substance of a response, figuring your blatant admiration was enough to tell him that you seriously didn't plan to. your hands leave any skin of his and go behind your back, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull over your head. your room is cold, at least you think it must be, because your nipples are already hard under your shirt as you stand in nothing but your panties directly in front of your best friend. his hands are already out of his pockets, hovering just beside your skin, you mimic the words he’s just said to you.

“don’t make me beg” you say, hoping the crack in your voice is unnoticeable as you portray your last wish for him to put his hands on any part of you.

his eyes are empty now, only looking at you, really looking as he finally drags his hands up and down the side of your stomach. looking at the way your eyes flutter closed any time his fingers brush over your bare breasts. before you can mumble any more arguments his body is on yours, in a flash. he couldn't have touched you fast enough, hard enough, long enough. his lips fought furiously with yours as he displayed your now bare back against the blank wall he once stood on, hands now deliciously free from his pockets and thick fingers all over every part of you. you're tugging at the hem of his shirt while he kisses your neck, wanting nothing more than the feeling of his skin against yours. he breaks apart from you in a flurry and he pulls his shirt over his head. you step back against the wall to distant yourself from him in order to see the whole expanse of his chest as he drops the cloth on the floor with yours. there is nothing but air exchanged between you two for the better of 30 seconds as you stare eachother down. lando eyes raking every inch of bare skin while you hone in on the expanse of his shoulders, noticing a faint but noticeable bite mark that you may or may not have caused.

"eyes are up here?" he says, much too cocky for something who was writhing while you pulled his hair moments ago.

“shut up” you say, making your way towards him once more, basking in the warmth that connects your two bodies. it’s a collision that could be considered bruising as your lips meet, clashing once more, albeit more desperately as you cling to any part of landos skin that is exposed. focusing on the way his back moves with you and the taut muscles that moves in and out. it’s hot between you two, lando is constantly moving his hands that seem to explore just about every edge of your body; your jaw, your neck, that spot just above your hip. he hasn’t even done anything but you’re virtually begging when he finally moves his hands down toward your soaking core. pulling your panties down was swift and lando almost immediately was back on you, covering you, shielding you. he looked at you as he spat in his hand, you’d probably find it disgusting if you weren’t so turned on. your eyes twitched and he lowered his hands, sliding the wetness through your folds, your eyes fluttered shut and your body jolted forward in the pleasure. fuck he felt so good, you throw your head back, against the wall needing some kind of grounding feature. his hands finally pushing inside of you, making you make some kind of strangled sound that lando laughs at quietly as he pushes his thick finger in and out of you slowly.

"so fucking wet huh?" he says beside your ear, taunting lips grazing your earlobe.

you shiver at the comment, disgraced how much he has effected you in such little time. he seems to read your mind though and adds another finger, causing another whole wave of pleasure to come over you and a stretch of fucks and shits and countless deep breaths, you move your hand over his, encouraging him to speed up. which he soon does, painfully so, curling his fingers in and out of you, knowing how close you're getting, paying attention to the way your face flutters and your legs shake. you drag your other hand to your clit while his pace remains bruising. you whimper at the contact, your clit suddenly swollen and sensitive with the contact. your keeling over nearly, lando keeping you entirely upright as you get yourself impossible closer. its all to soon when his movements still and he grabs your hand, prompting you to look at him, desperate and confused and endlessly frustrated.

"tell me what you were thinking 'bout when this afternoon." not a question, a statement. he wouldn't continue if you didn't answer him.

you're squirming now, against your will, shamelessly desperate but you weren't going to give him any satisfaction. you wouldn't let yourself. you try and steady yourself, coaxing all the faux confidence you could before teasing him just that little bit more. you lean forward, as he did before. grazing your nipples on his chest and your lips on his earlobe, you could see he was hard now and you planned to use it.

"thinking about the time Danny fucked me in this room" you weren't lying, Danny did use to come over when lando was away, but just to hang out. you'd divulge that part later.

you didn't miss the way lando eyebrows grew flat and his eyes darkened, hands suddenly gripping firmer on your skin as you looked up at him, coy as can be. you lean forward again, he almost stops you but you get far enough to tell him.

"was thinkin' about how big you are" that caused a reaction. praise. his eyes suddenly springing open.

"knew it" he retaliates almost laughing as he closes the gap once again, though this time moving onto the bed. as he pushes you on the bed he removes his boxers, the final fucking barrier between the both of you and you couldn't be more giddy as he goes to get on top of you and you push him so he's rolled over.

he's fucked you once. your turn.

you use his chest to steady yourself as you put both legs beside him, relishing in the way he looks at you. like there's nobody else, nothing else, just you and him. hes so warm, sweat sheening the skin on his chest and thighs, his hair is damp and he raises his head, one hand behind it to admire you. you graze one finger over his tip and his abdomen tenses and lets go, so fucking sensitive. he's biting his lip as you tease him a fair bit more, just enough, circling the tip, see it throbbing.

"wanna -hmph... tell me how big it is" its strangled and mocking and high-pitched and so fucking hot coming out of his mouth you can't do anything but oblige, so as you finally sink down onto his red, throbbing cock.

"so fucking big lan' " he lets out something actually audible at that comment but you're not entirely sure you hear it because it feels so fucking good, the stretch from this angle. you feel lando's hands come to your hips aiding you as he slowly bottoms out. he leans up to meet you when he bottoms out, you're in a trance, so overwhelmed with pleasure that you're sure lando is a god or something the way he moves your hips just fucking right that has you repeating his name like a mantra as he moves the both of you in perfect fucking unison.

"so fuckin' pretty"

"so fuckin' perfect"

"make me so fuckin' angry"

you smile at his comments, biting your lip, he knows his effect on you but you could always try to dampen it just a little more, but the comments don't help the noises that escape your mouth.

" 'm close " you say, between incoherent noises, he smiles against your neck and goes faster, impossibly faster, forcing you impossibly closer together. you clumsily move one of your hands to your clit and its perfect. he knows just how close you are, putting both his hands around you as you suddenly become weak as it rushes over you, jolting forward, head landing on his shoulder before he sloppily thrusts a few more times and hes coming hard and fast inside you and you're fucking perfect. everything is perfect, your hand is in his hair, holding it firmly, keeping you down to earth as you meet his eyes.

"fuck you" its breathless and completely futile as you play with the curls at the back of his head, melting in any kind of touch you're willing to give him. he laughs at you and you fucking love his smile.

"you just did" he said, incredibly proud of himself, leaning in afterwards littering your neck with kisses.

[hobie-enthusiast]

UNLIKELY CLASH !

— rulebreaker!hobie brown x perfectionist!gn!reader

— enemies to lovers, swearing (more than last and fuck too), mutual pining, making out, small bit of harassment, rebellious teens, confused feelings, getting together

— hobie brown was everything you weren’t, so maybe that’s what attracted the two of you together so well (pt. 2)

— here part two gang! honestly i have an idea for part three in mind but if that’s something u honestly want pls lmk asap

— part 1 | part 2 (here) | part 3

The next couple of weeks were.. odd between you and Hobie.

Even after a heartfelt confession about the pressure you felt, you still had a reputation to uphold. You kept treating him the way you normally did; ignoring him and pretending he didn’t exist.

At first, this didn't really bother Hobie. He was used to chasing after you, messing with you and poking fun at the student council president. But he was getting bored. The small bits of making you late to class or taking up your time were amusing, but he wanted more of a reaction from you.

When he started interacting less and less, you grew confused. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked the attention and small interactions.

Though it was small, being late and skipping class (very rarely at this point), made you excited. It made you feel.. alive in a way.

But all that was dissipating. And you were upset about it.

You sat in your room after a long school day, mindlessly scrolling through your computer. Your parents had asked that you try and find a prom outfit, but that became boring really quick. You could never wear something truly exciting; just some fancy outfit plain coloured with fancy hair.

A knock on your window startled you from your thoughts. Glancing out, you see Hobie looking in, motioning for you to open the window. You walk over confused, deciding to open the window.

"Brown? It's.." You glance back at your alarm clock. "..10 pm. What are you doing here?"

"Awe, come on sweetheart. After such a confession, shouldn't we be on a first name basis?" He says, inviting himself into your room.

You scoff. "One, no, as you don't use my first name. And two, you can't be here! My parents are right down the hall!"

Hobie shrugged as he looked around your room, analyzing the decor. He noticed the clean desk you had, along with a neat bookshelf of many scientific books and knick-knacks. It suited you, every detail down to the way your game console sat neatly on your TV stand, not a speck of dust in sight.

"Did you show up just to judge my room?"

Hobie shook his head. "Nah, came t' ask ya somethin'." He said, sitting on your desk chair. "Up for an adventure?"

"Excuse me?" You question, taking a seat across from him on your bed. "When?"

"Now."

You know Hobie was.. absolutely crazy in some ways. But this? Going on a random adventure on a Friday night, and asking the person he wants to go with by entering their room via window was.. not the kind of crazy you would categorize him as.

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms. "You serious right now?"

"As serious as I always am." He responds with a shrug. "'s up to you. We'll be gone 'till tomorrow. Either 'u're up for a challenge or not."

A challenge he says? Hobie knew that you could be riled up from being challenged to do something. Perfectionists always had to win in his eyes.

And he was right.

"Give me five minutes."

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Next thing you knew, you were on a train from your isolated little town to Brooklyn itself. Hobie blindly led you onto a train, told you to not worry about tickets, then let the train take you both to the destination in mind.

Of course Hobie remembered what you said at the tree. He had been holding onto it for a while now. He knew you wanted to go to a city, do whatever you wanted, just for a little bit. And he was going to be the one to give that to you. Why? Well, that's a question he couldn't answer for himself.

"Brooklyn?" You questioned, looking out of the train window. "Why Brooklyn?"

"You said it under the tree. Ya wanted to go to the city, no?"

You nodded slowly, looking back out the window with a small smile. Of course you were flattered that he remembered your words. At least, you were hoping he did, you practically poured your feelings out.

Once the train stopped, you both stepped out of the station to admire the tall buildings towering over you. Hobie couldn’t help but be amused at the way your eyes shined at the new scenery. He practically came here everyday.

But he couldn’t tell you that. Not without plausible answers to the inevitable questions.

“So..” You turn to look at him, eyes still bright. “What do we do?”

He shrugs, hands in his vest pockets. “Whatever ya want. ‘s ‘ur day, no?”

"But I don't know where to go. I've never been to the city before."

Hobie's eyes widened for a moment, shocked at your words. You were really so sheltered you hadn't been to the city right beside your town? The thought alone was crazy to Hobie. He never understood why adults were so.. controlling.

He sighs, walking ahead. "Follow me then. I'll show ya ‘round."

And so you did just that. You followed Hobie around the city, taking in the sights he's showing you. All around the city, passing and weaving through people, making sure you had a nice time.

There was something you noticed. Before Hobie took you somewhere, he provided you with options on where to go. He didn't force you to go one place with him. He didn't strictly follow an itinerary. He always asked what you wanted to do, giving you full control of the day.

It was.. refreshing. This sense of freedom was exactly what you needed. To feel the fresh air of the city without worrying about impressing anyone. Hobie wasn't judging you, and you certainly weren't judging yourself.

The end of the day came quicker than your liking, and the two of you were on the rooftop of an apartment complex. The sun was setting behind the tall buildings, and Hobie brought the two of you some noodles to eat (he definitely didn't steal them).

You take a bite, setting the cup down with a sigh. "Today was.. actually really nice. I don't think I ever felt that, free before, if that makes sense?"

"Don't worry, you can say it." Hobie said, nudging your arm.

You roll your eyes with a small smile. "Mm.. guess I can. Thanks, Brown."

"Y'know, you can call me 'obie, swee'heart." He responded, shrugging. "'s better than m' last name, I think."

"I can't give you that satisfaction. Not yet."

Hobie raised an eyebrow, a shit-eating smirk crossing his face. "Yet?"

You're ready to correct yourself, but the words die in your throat. You couldn't help but like the sound of "yet". It meant more time with Hobie.. and you enjoyed that. Hobie's company was something you were starting to crave. Almost like a drug.

Hobie glanced over at you. "Gotta admit, didn't expect ya t' come with me. Considerin' 'ur parents don't know ya snuck out."

“Yeah well..” You sigh, looking out onto the building with a soft smile. “Maybe I just needed something different.” You finish, looking over at Hobie.

You’re suddenly very aware of how close the two of you are to each other. Hobie’s eyes flicker; your eyes, your mouth, and back a couple times. It’s almost like.. he was asking you for something. The longer you both stared, the more tempted he became, and you honestly couldn’t blame him.

So why did you pull away?

As soon as he started leaning in, you pulled back, clearing your throat. His eyes widen before narrowing, scoffing gently. Guess he misread the situation.

You really couldn’t tell him he didn’t.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The next weeks Hobie Brown didn’t show up to school.

You had a feeling you were the cause. Brushing him off like that was such a dick move on your part. You knew that. You wanted nothing more than to find him and run to him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

But you couldn’t. You had an image to maintain. A reputation. All the trust you worked so hard to accumulate would go down the drain in an instant.

Of course.. Hobie may be worth that.

Hobie to you is worth that risk. All his rule breaking and crazed adventures are just what you need in your life. Something that gives you the freedom you longed for.

But you had to go and screw it up. And now here you were, three weeks after the incident, at your locker with a guy trying to talk you up.

“C’mon, [Name], just one night! It’ll change your life!”

You groan, slamming the locker shut. “Dude, I said no. Can you stop?”

“Why? I gotta know why!” He persisted, grabbing your wrist as you tried walking away.

You yank your arm away, trying to escape. “I don’t owe you that! Let me go.”

“Not until you-”

“Hey.”

You turn at the sudden voice, shocked at who it belonged to. There stood Hobie Brown, eyes filled with anger.

“They said, let go.” He said, grabbing the guy’s arm and yanking it away. “Learn t’ take a hint, aye?”

The guy’s eyes narrowed. “And who do you think you are, Brown? Their boyfriend?”

“As a matter of fac’-”

Then, Hobie turns you to him, bringing your lips to his. No warning, no asking, nothing. Just does what he’s been craving after three weeks of disappearance.

Everyone in the hallway around you two watched with shocked faces. Nobody could have seen this coming, not even you.

A thousand thoughts rushed through your head as Hobie kissed you, but one screamed to push away. So you did, giving him a shocked look before grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the scene. You drag him to a storage closet, shutting the door.

“Brown, what the hell was that?!” You immediately ask, eyes narrowed. “What, do you disappear for three weeks then kiss every person you were hanging out with? What the hell?”

Hobie sighed, leaning against a shelf behind him. “Guy needed t’ be taught a lesson. Made sure he won’t bother ya.”

“I can do that on my own!” You respond, shoving an accusing finger in his chest. “Where have you been?!”

“Thinkin’.” Is all he responds with.

You groan. “For three weeks? Shit Hobie, I..” You words fall short. You want to say it.. squeeze it out. “I.. missed you.”

Hobie’s eyes widened as he takes in your words. You.. missed him? He never would have seen this coming; a confession from the president in a dingy storage closet? Not on his bucket list.

Your eyes watch Hobie, doing that same pattern he did on the rooftop; eyes, mouth, eyes. You wanted to kiss him again.. feel those lips again on yours. No.. you needed it.

You know what? Fuck this perfect image.

You grab onto Hobie's vest, pulling him in to connect your lips. Your rough with your movements at first, closing your eyes tightly and latching onto him with a white-knuckle grip. Hobie's eyes widened for a moment before they showed a more prideful look, kissing you back with just as much emotion.

His hands find placement on your lower back, pulling you into him as the kiss escalates from one to many. Hobie was like a starved man, slotting his leg in between yours to support you, pushing you back against the shelf and knocking over some cleaning supplies.

That could be fixed later.

Your original intention of one passionate kiss to show him how you felt turned into many heated kisses. The bell for class was drowned out by how into the moment you both were.

“Fuck.. Hobie..” You whisper, diving back in for another kiss.

Hobie groaned in turn, pulling you impossibly closer. “Shit sweetheart.. can’t say m’ name like that.”

“Hmm.. why’s that..?”

“‘s gonna drive me crazy..”

Suddenly, the doorknob to the closet rattles, causing you both to pull away. Your eyes go wide as Hobie grabs it from where he stands, bringing one finger to his lips to make you stay quiet.

The person on the other side tries to open the door, but ultimately fails. They groan and mumble something before walking away. Hobie looks over at your expression, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispers, planting a kiss to your jaw. “Or are ya gonna keep pretendin’ you’re too good for it?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you take his hand. "Nah, not this time. Come on."

some ppl who wanted to be tagged (🫶): @serenn08 | @rksses | @youronlyauthor | @dotheyevenknowmars | @xoxobabe

[yanderenightmare]

nerd-kun tomura crushin on the pretty clerk at the comic shop🥺 she's always so sweet BUT THEN HE FINDS OUT ABOUT THE BOYFRIEND

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

TW: f!reader, creepy behavior, stalking-ish, obsession, incel-vibes

fem reader

It spurs from something so small. Something you forget by the next customer in line, whom you treat just the same, bagging their comics and figurines with a trained smile. But for Tomura, it’s special. How you dub his fifteen percent membership discount as a “pretty-boy discount,” or when you give him an extra stamp on his loyalty card and flash him a cheeky wink as though to say “just between us,” or when you smile so brightly, looking him right in his eyes when you tell him to “please come again soon, Tomu-kun~”

He can’t believe you even remember his name. A pretty girl like you.

It’s all a delusion. Deep down, he knows you just read it off the registry after scanning his membership card. But it feels too good to imagine you know who he is, to imagine you actually hope to see him come back soon.

His favorite thing to do is ask you to recommend him something new. To see you nod all eagerly, gushing while skipping about the aisles, helping him search.

“You must have a lot of time on your hands to be done with those volumes you bought last week, Tomu-kun.” You joke, scanning the shelves with him trailing after – hood pulled over the mess of his hair with hands shoved down the front pocket – now looking up from the shadow it cast – eyes wide.

You know my name… 

You snort, giggling. “Of course I know your name, silly.” 

His stupor shrivels into a blush, realizing he’d spoken out loud. But you don’t seem concerned by it – nor do you even notice as you stretch up on your tippy-toes to reach for a book. 

“I’d be a real airhead to forget it – you’re in here practically every day.” You flash him that trained smile – all pearly white with a breath of laughter – offering the book you’d just picked out for him to reach. “You’re becoming my best friend – I see you more than I see my boyfriend!”

Tomura doesn’t reply. Nor does he accept your hand-out.

He’s too caught up in your words. A wrinkle scrunching up between his brows – eyes slim while staring at you – feeling his temple pulse. 

That’s not very service-inclined of you to say. Customers don’t want to know you have a boyfriend. That ruins the fantasy. You’re supposed to be the friendly flirt – the girl that’s really too pretty to be a weeb but doesn’t know it herself – the one he can go home and fist his cock to while imagining he has a chance even though you’re way out of his league.

His crush on you was harmless.

But you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you? Had to shatter the dream – dropping the boyfriend bomb, calling him your friend. Jeez, could you be any more obvious? That’s how you nice sweet polite girls like to say you’re not interested, right? 

You love the attention, but you snuff it out the moment it becomes too tedious, don’t you? 

Fucking bitch.

You regret it, right? When you get off work and wind up in the boot of his car with your pretty face taped shut.

He’s going to teach you a thing or two about true customer service.

[anchoeritic]

dbf joel picking u up from a friends instead of ur dad and he makes it worth ur while.. 😊

"you've got to be kidding me." you should've known what you got yourself into by the second ring of your dad's voicemail. the one night you had no ride home, he wouldn't care to pick up his phone. your last resort was the man you refused to look in the eyes, not anymore. you couldn't keep a straight face around him, barely a look. he didn't even show up to your party a few weeks ago. after your pattern of late night hook-ups, you two agreed to cut it off. that night was awhile ago, but he was your last resort. how else were you going to find your way back home from another town? joel.

turning the curve, he stopped the pick-up truck right in front of the curb you were sitting on. "need me to open the door for you, princess, or are you gonna get your ass up yourself?" his window was rolled halfway down but you saw his face through the windshield. "let's get goin' before it's too late." he was still as handsome as ever; scruffy beard, grey hairs, everything. you could feel his gaze stay on you as you walked over and opened his car door, the wind of his ac hitting you first, his strong cologne was immediately after.

you missed him, there was no denying that. "sorry for the short notice, mr.miller—“ he stopped you by giving you a cold stare, fixing his rear mirror in the process. it’s not like he had something against you, right? you sent him an awkward smile, slouching back into the seat. “we’re back to formal greetings now?” his voice came out raspy, “that’s rich.”

gulping, your face went hot from embarrassment, refusing to say a single word in response. “it’s like i didn’t have you moanin’ for me to fuck you.” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “you remember those nights, don’t you? ‘cause i sure as hell do.” he was staring directly at you now, leaning over the cup holder with a smirk on his face.

“you think i’d ever forget, joel?” you nodded your head slowly, looking at him innocently. of course, you remembered those nights. you couldn’t ever forget them. when he had you crying while his head was deep between your legs, licking up your slick, or the times you two would sneak to the bathrooms just to have a quickie, away from the family’s eyes. he was hard to forget. “i think about you every night.” “every night?”

now it was your turn to play your cards, leaning closer into him. “every time i touch myself, you’re always the first thing on my mind. of course, i couldn’t forget.” you whisper, barely brushing your lips over his. a tease, that’s what you always were. he shook his head, the smirk on his face only settled in. “you’re in for a treat now, cupcake.. get in the backseat.”

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part four of Mean Eddie x Reader series.

Part one Part Two Part Three

Minors shoo! Tiny hint of fluff, Wayne to the rescue, Eddie's po.v.

💌

Eddie is quiet when he isn't in Dungeon Master mode during the latest campaign. He's been like this for a while now and Gareth is worried.

He's sure it's something to do with you, observed the tension between you and Eddie earlier this week with Billy.

Gareth isn't the only one to notice this. Wayne does too. He knows his boy and every one of his moods, knows when something is eating at him. So when Eddie comes back from the campaign that night he's there with a smile and ready to listen.

"What's going on son? You okay? You're quiet and you ain't been quiet since you learned how to talk" Eddie smiles faintly and grabs a beer from the fridge, Wayne pretends not to notice this and grabs one for himself.

"There's this girl I've been seeing and she... We... I thought we were just this casual thing but she wants more and we ended things but I... Shit I miss her uncle Wayne" he says it all in a rush and Wayne listens intently.

"You'll fix things son. Just gotta give it some time" Wayne pats his shoulder and Eddie feels his whole body relax. Wayne's always been the one to calm him down when his emotions got to big, when he needed to soothe the chaos in his mind.

Well his mom did that too but it's been so long without her now, the memories are vague and he clings on to the things he can remember, the smell of her perfume, the way he felt safe and protected when she held him and those big brown eyes that were so much like his own.

For a moment he gives into the memories then speaks again, comes back to the present and the mess he's made with you. At first when the two of you stopped seeing each other he assumed he'd be fine and move on.

Big mistake. He missed you and your laugh and the way you would listen enraptured to his stories, asked him to make ones up for you all the time.

It snuck up on him but he began missing the smell of your perfume and the way you would play with his hair when the two of you were wrapped up together after incredible sex. Or the sweetness you showed to him even when he was a grumpy ass if he was in the middle of a campaign.

Eddie even missed the way you would excitedly tell him the latest gossip about Jason and his band of buttheads, and he missed the way your eyes lit up and you would smile when Eddie couldn't help but be tender with you, the way he would hold you for a few seconds and feel comfortable and relaxed with you.

Fuck he was a major douchebag.

"I don't know if I can. I messed up and said stupid shit, I made her cry", his hands tighten on his mug as the thought of your tears physically pains him. Wayne gives him a "son, I love you but I'm disappointed with you" look and Eddie's stomach sinks. He hates disappointing Wayne.

"Boy I raised you better than to mess around with girls hearts. You gotta stop moping around and apologise to her for being such an idiot. She obviously means something to you if you're missing her like this"

As always Wayne was right and Eddie was anxiously wondering if you would even accept his apology. Would you move on to Billy who was always flirting with you? Or maybe Steve. Steve didn't make girls cry, he treated them like princesses.

That's what he was going to do with you, treat you like a princess. Swallow his pride and admit he fucked up.

Well if you ever spoke to him again he would.

...

You're late for school on Monday and rush to your locker. It doesn't even register that there's something stuffed into your locker that wasn't there before. Doesn't register until the pretty wildflowers fall to the floor.

Gently you pick them up and find them tied together with a simple black hair tie.

Eddie's hair tie.

🫶

...

[ax-killjoy]

☆ Because, you’re kind.

Note ! 𖦹 : this is based on a D&D tiktok i saw. :,) i hope this fic makes sense- if not then it becomes part of my sleep deprived nonsense.

Jake Sully/Gn!Reader (Platonic !)

tw !!: child neglect

Y/N was a child birthed from two horribly neglectful parents. Jake Sully remembers vividly, the way your body was born into the light, a gift from Eywa. And the look of your mother’s disgust written on her face, and the distant look from your father.

Jake couldn’t tell whether the heat rising from his throat was bile, or the anger he felt.

I guess Na’vi can be shitty parents too.

He tried giving your parents a chance, seeing that maybe they were just simply fatigued. But that wasn’t the case, he watched over you closely as you grew up. Neytiri could tell something was up with Jake, whenever your parents came to help with operations.

Jake was stiff, his teeth gritting, his jaw clenched and furrowed brows. “you should be looking after your kid.” he seethes, glaring at the parents who were gathering guns. They were chanting loudly, loading guns into saddles as they cheered, killing sky people around the wreckage. “Why ? That child is no gift from Eywa, a mistake maybe. but no gift.” The father says, and Neytiri ears flatten. A crack in her heart, like glass. Jake Sully suddenly stops what he is doing, “You will love your child, you should. Your child, EVERY child is a gift from Eywa.” he says, before storming off to find more guns.

After that, both Neytiri and Jake swore to look after you. To watch you closely, to treat you like one of their own. Until you officially became one of their own.

When you turned 13, you don’t remember it. And Jake thanks Eywa for that, but both of your parents seemingly forgot about you. Or maybe it was intentional.

It was your first hunting trip, you had been begging your parents to take you hunting. They took you to the forest, to the deepest parts of forbidden to unmarked territory, Telling you that all the good animals to eat were here. Your father and mother say that they will watch from afar, and before you knew it. They had left you there, in part of the forest unmarked on a map.

It took a week for Jake and Neytiri to find you, you hid yourself in the nook of the tree. You slept soundly, and the seeds of Eywa surrounded you like an unspoken hug, as if Eywa was reassuring you. Jake’s eyes became glossy, he kneeled down over your body, and he cried. His body shivered and small sobs were let out, god he was so scared. He was so fucking scared you died.

That was when you became an official Sully.

.｡.:*☆♡*.+

As you grew up, you forgot about your parents. Or that’s what everyone saw, you were bubbly now. Nature loving, Curious, full of life. A personality that was never shown when your parents took care of you.

The Sully family cherished you dearly, quickly becoming one of the eldest of the Sully children. Jake and Neytiri were everything your parents weren’t.

Your parents were quickly exiled from Omatikaya, It felt like the sun got brighter, the stars twinkled more, and the breeze welcomed Jake when they left. Relief washed over him.

It was a quiet day, you had come back from hunting with Neteyam. You and Neteyam had just finally turned 15, meaning you both could officially hunt without supervision. Neteyam went to explore with the rest of the family, whilst you and Jake stayed home. He watched as you prepared food, whilst he cleaned his weapons and reassembled them. Checking each bullet intently, putting the broken ones in a separate box. It was a comfortable silence, the warmth of breeze welcomed both of you.

“I know you’re not my real father.” You said simply, cutting the chunks of meat and putting it in a basket with various vegetables.

Jake stopped what he was doing, looking up but not looking at you.

“I know that Neytiri is not my mother.“ you say softly, like it was a secret. As if it was forbidden to say.

“how did you know ?” he asks, his voice is raspy yet ever so soft.

You look back at him, your eyes bright yet spoke a million words. you stopped cutting the meat, you walked to him and sat next to him. Letting your head rest on his shoulder, and you sigh.

“because you and Neytiri are kind.”

[setsugekka]

❥déjà rêvé (m)

↳ When your best friend marries her stuffy, stuck-up, long-time boyfriend, you swallow your feelings and put your reservations aside to support her...

...and when your erotic imagination takes hold of you one night in relation to him, you’re thankful for the fact that your friend is able to laugh it off.

Unfortunately, you’re not able to let it go as easily.

kim doyoung x fem!reader — enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [17.7k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, social smoking. sexual content: bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, unprotected penetrative sex (v+a), oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

Seven years.

 Watching as your best friend now sat in glee as hired hair and makeup help dart around her to make sure that every strand, every eyelash be perfectly in place for her big day, you realize that now, after so long, it's difficult to even really recall the first few times that she started bringing him around. You remember the first night she mentioned him — a careful slide of a photo of him into the group chat, followed by the usual 'he looks better in person' commentary — although hilariously unnecessary given that the man stunning even back then.

You did, however, wish that his looks had translated more into his personality.

Unfortunately, it was no mystery the way that you and Doyoung did not get on. Never culminating into blow-out fights, or a need to pick sides, or even the ruining of an evening or vacation: But it was there. Petty jabs and comments slung about, backhanded slips of the tongue coming from either side at a moments notice — something that, earlier on, came to be of much contention between you, Mina, and her now husband-to-be. Over time, however, with the relationship growing, evolving, and coming to terms with the fact that this man most likely to remain in your life for as long as Mina would be, you decide on doing the only thing that a good, supportive, friend can do in such circumstances.

After all, you weren't the one marrying him, and thank fuck for that.

  "How do I look?"

Nearly tear-filled eyes looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror as you stand behind your best friend of a decade and more, you offer a tight-lipped smile back to her — in an effort to keep it together, really, you'd rather not cry your makeup off, as well.

"You look amazing, he's lucky," you begin genuinely before switching to a more playful tone. "And he better remember that, because I'll be watching."

With a sway of her hand, Mina shoos you away equally playfully and laughing through the fact that she was surely just about to start crying. "This long and you guys are still like this, are you ever going to get over it?"

"Is he ever going to stop being a pretentious douche? Because all signs point to 'no.'"

Cocking her head as if to say 'give me a break,' your bestie sighs audibly at the much anticipated response from you in regards to the matter.

"He's a good man."

You nod. "I know. He's good to you and, well — good enough to me, so I'll allow it, I suppose."

Would you choose to spend time with Doyoung if not for Mina; if not for the fact that he be obviously and irrevocably in love with her and treat her as such every moment of everyday? No.

But the rest of it sort of makes up for that fact.

One of the perks of having Kim Doyoung around is the money.

Of course, Mina doing well enough for herself that she need not rest on the laurels of a man, but marrying this one be far from a bad choice as far as financials go. A hard worker all through high school and college and landing a fancy, high-paying career gig straight out — only a few weeks after the wedding, the two bought a house together — an expensive, modern home a little bit on the outskirts of the city but not too far away as to make it inconvenient, glass paneling, black marble, and perfectly shined platinum stainless steel; the first time entering it, you can't help but think how it's precisely what one would expect upon being informed of the kind of money and stature that Doyoung has.

'New money,' they call it, and with it comes a certain expectation of being a prick, apparently.

The positives of all of this, of course, include that the man work long hours, and thus, you're free to be over without having to see much of him.

And thank God for that.

 "Drink?"

Already reaching up and into one of the white and glass cupboards just above as she calls out the question, you answer back a simple "sure" as she continues bringing down two, large, red wine glasses that you're almost certain cost far more than any reasonable person would pay for cups.

"Doie brought these back from Portugal the last time he went on business, apparently they're one of a kind, handmade."

"I swear to God every time you call him that I get the most intense case of sudden indigestion. No relation, though. I'm sure."

The same playfully annoyed cock of her head that you're used to seeing every time the man comes up into conversation, the both of you chuckle as she sets two glasses down onto perfectly shined marble countertops in front of you.

"There's like, thirty bottles of wine down here and I don't know what's fancy or not," Mina begins, already squatting down in front of the wine storage just beneath (and of course, something that Doyoung personally had built into the kitchen during renovations). Popping back up and grabbing her phone from across the shining table, "Let me ask him."

Only a few seconds of the phone ringing, the line is answered and you hear that all too familiar and also irritating voice come through. "On a work call, what's up, babe?"

You roll your eyes, it's nearly automatic. Mina slaps the marble in front of you like she's trying to dissuade a cat from something.

"We want to open a bottle of wine but I don't know what we can and can't have, so give me a name of something, quick."

"You can have anything you want," The man on the other end coos back. You sort of wish this conversation wasn't happening on speaker phone.

Rolling her eyes, Mina chuckles back at him. "You said some of these bottles are like, three hundred dollars."

"And? Let me know how it is, gotta-go-love-you-bye—" Doyoung sing-song's into the phone before cutting the line completely. You watch the way a grin takes your best friends face at the short but sweet conversation that has only just transpired and it reminds you that all things considered, and all personal feelings about the man aside, they're absolutely, remarkably in love with one another.

As if momentarily forgetting the fact that you're even there, in favor of daydreaming about her husband, Mina finally comes back down to the expensive kitchen with you. "He's so annoying."

"Yeah, I can tell that's totally how you feel about him right now," You respond with obvious sarcasm.

About an hour and a half later and two glasses of whatever accidentally expensive wine your friend has chosen, you're a little disappointed when you hear the familiar voice of The Husband coming down the stairs and slowly making his way into the kitchen.

Of course, and again: You don't hate him, but he always has some shit to say.

Finishing up a work call as he comes around the corner — gray sweatpants and a black, oversized sweatshirt with hair only a tiny bit disheveled and probably due to it being the end of the night for him finally, you watch intently as he leans against the large, stainless steel refrigerator — briefly making eye contact with you as he says goodbye to whatever late night client happens to be on the other end of the line.

With a heavy sigh, Doyoung outstretches his arms. "Finally, freedom."

"Until tomorrow—" Mina adds with a quick peck to his cheek as she hands him a glass of wine as well. The reminder unfortunate, wiping any joy from the mans features in an instant. "—Yes, until tomorrow."

Then, his eyes catch towards you. Bringing the rim of the glass to his lips, the words slip out just before he takes a sip. "And what about you? Do you work?"

Always something to say.

"I do!" You quickly quip back. "I work normal people hours, like most people do."

"I don't think hanging out with my wife is a job."

"Doie!" Mina huffs with a playful slap to his chest.

"I assure you, you don't have to be concerned about my working hours," you begin, taking another sip from your glass before setting it down onto the counter next to you. "At least I won't look seventy years old when I'm thirty, like some people."

"Ooh—" he plays along, eyes narrow as if you've almost got him on the losing side of the banter. "That may be true, but I'll still be rich, and I'll still have a sexy wife."

"Please spare me, I choose not to acknowledge that there is any sexual relationship between the two of you at any given moment in time."

Finishing off his glass and taking a step forward to set it down next to yours, he offers you a thin-lipped grin, as if accompanying it with his sympathies. "And I'm sure that's not a result of projection, at all. Anyway, have a good night, you two, I'm off to bed."

With a quick kiss to Mina and another tip of his head towards you, the man is off and back up the stairs.

Well enough out of earshot, your eyes shoot back to your friend. "Did he just imply I'm not getting fucked?"

She shrugs. "Are you?"

Scoff falling from your lips, you press the point of your index finger out and towards your bestie. "I was just out with that guy last week, remember?"

"And how did that go?"

"It was terrible, but that's not the point—" you answer dryly, as if it be the simplest thing in the world. "—The point is, I get dick, regardless of how questionable the quality may be."

Chuckling, Mina comes around to pick up the glasses and set them next to the sink. "I'll be sure to let him know, then."

"Please don't," You groan in response.

Long, thin, fingers wrapped around your wrist as you're quickly shuffled down the familiar, dimly lit hallway of their shared marital home before your back suddenly finds pressure against the cool wall — legs pulled apart to make room for his hips as you feel the all too familiar burn of being pried apart with not enough prep for such endeavors — enveloped suddenly by broad shoulders and a hard chest held firm against your own as you bite back the moan that threatens to echo down and against the walls, your fingers finding purchase in the fabric of such shoulders as they dig in to match the feeling of being taken so thoughtlessly, relentlessly.

"How do I feel?"

A rhetorical question of sorts, knowing that he can hear and feel the way you fall apart beneath him already and with such little effort on his end — one hand coming up between the wall and the back of your head to curl fingers into you hair and tug roughly on the strands as you hiss into a mouth just centimeters away but not quite touching your own. "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 Waking up in the morning, you don't recall many of the details — instead, living now with the irritating knowledge that you've had a sex dream about one man in particular that you wouldn't wish sex with onto your worst enemy.

Of course, it will pass — as things like this always do. It's just a dream, after all.

Right?

Wrong, regrettably.

Worse than having the dream itself, you think over the next few days, is the way that it simply won't leave you alone. Any moment of downtime in your thoughts now plagued by the memory of a certain best friends husband fucking you against the wall of their newlywed home — it's far from ideal, and for a plethora of reasons that don't necessarily need to be explained. And yet.

But, you know enough about Mina, and your friendship with her, that if you can confide in anyone about having a sex dream about their husband to get it off of your chest, it's her.

Sitting outside of a bougie cafe just down the street from Mina's work building as you wait for her to join you with legs crossed and a mimosa on the table in front of you, as you stare at the menu in an attempt to focus on what it is that you'll be ordering for lunch once your friend arrives, the words still find their way floating through your mind with no prompting, and a little bit too much ease.

 "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 "So long!" The familiar voice of your friend from just behind you pipes up and jars you from your thinking — and thank fuck for that, because any excuse not to be brought to that place is a good one, as far as you're concerned. "Took me so long to find parking here, I don't know why we always insist on coming to this place."

"Because it's central to both of us," you answer with a tone that says that this should be obvious. "Besides, you're always the one that wants to come here."

"What can I say, hot sandwiches here are amazing—" pausing the thought to flag down the wait staff, you place the menu down on the table and rub your eyes with the flat of your fingertips as her attention falls back to you. "—Do you know what you want to order? Wait, what's wrong with you?"

"Yes," you reply to the first question, only to hesitate on the second. "Nothing, tired. Work's been killing me."

"Aw, and Doie said that you don't work," She offers, a comforting tone that only offers the opposite with the addition of the pet name to her lover. Her husband.

"Can we not talk about that man?"

A questioning cock of her head and curiosity piqued, Mina smiles with narrowed eyes. "...Why? Did he say something else? You know, he's only joking—"

"No," you firmly cut her off with a wave of a hand as the waiter returns with a drink for her and an exasperated sigh from you. "He didn't say anything else. He's just...exhausting."

"You don't even know the half of it. I live with him," Mina cheerfully retorts as she takes her drink into hand.

 No, you don't even know the half of it.

 Allowing your friend to do a good bit of the rambling through lunch as you slowly make your way through your salad — you try to put it out of your mind just as much now as you have since that night — unfortunately, the very presence of the woman married to said man in question causing the thoughts to be just that much more at the forefront of your memory.

With a fork between teeth, Mina finally stills mid-sentence and glares at you through perfectly made up, long, eyelashes. "Alright, what the hell is up with you today?"

 Yes, you were busted, but if you were honest, you had every intention of telling her about it, anyway.

 With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you finish chewing through your lettuce before setting your own utensils down at the edge of the plate and dramatically falling back into your chair — a reluctant acceptance of defeat at the hands of your best friend. All perfectly pressed business suit and perfectly structured black hair that her ever so doting husband no doubt pays for to have her take care of.

This is so annoying.

"Well!?"

"Okay, okay, don't rush me, geez—" you cut her off with palms in the air. Allowing silence to once again fall between you — nothing more than the busy bustling of the street nearby and the other patrons of the restaurant around you — you sniffle sharply, now having accepted that this is a conversation that's definitely going to happen.

Her being upset, or angry, not something you're concerned about — rather, just the humiliation of having to admit it (and the way that it's lived in your mind ever since.)

"Have you ever — had a dream about someone else's partner?"

Visibly taken aback, and physically so as Mina jolts into her chair at the question, a chuckle falls from her lips as she just as quickly takes a sip from her tall glass again. "Are you kidding? I've banged Karina's man like, three times unconsciously."

The fast and honest reply has you nearly choking on the sip of drink you had mirrored her in taking.

"It's just a dream, it's not like we have any control over it. Why? Whose man dug you out?"

 Silence.

 Mina's eyes glued to your face as you bring your glass up to your lips again and pull your own line of vision as far from hers as you can manage without actually turning physically — you hate the way you can literally see as the knowledge finally dawns on her with how her teeth quickly begin to peer through the grin that plasters across her face.

"Stop—" she first says.

"Don't—" you respond just as quickly.

"—No way." She finishes with a gasp.

You immediately plant your face into the flat of your palms with an affirming groan.

And thus, your best friend does what anyone would do upon finding out that her friend had a sex dream about her husband: Let out the most annoying, boisterous witch-cackle that a single woman could possibly muster.

When her laughter finally dies down enough to manage in some breaths for an attempt at speaking, Mina takes another sip of her drink through tight lips that are quite evidently still trying to pull back the smile that she wants so badly to let pull across her features. "Well," she quietly begins. "How was it?"

"Really?"

"Just curious how fantasy matches up with reality, that's all."

Rolling your eyes at her curiosity, you can't help but make an attempt to pull the embarrassment from you, and onto the man in question. "I'm sure I was doing him the favor. It wasn't thirty seconds of missionary while he told me about finances so he should be thankful for that much."

Snorting through her nose, Mina's eyes drop down to her mostly-eaten sandwich before her. "Is that what you think it's like?"

"I simply do not think about it at all, actually."

"Evidently, that's not the case."

 With more silence coming between the two of you, now Mina is the one that cuts through it with an all too pointed, proverbial knife.

 "Do you want to fuck him?"

 Sputtering through more salad as the words enter your line of hearing, before you have a chance to answer, Mina amends the statement — as if she can read your mind. "Before you say 'no,' really think about it."

And so, you do. Quietly mulling over all of the possibilities, the thoughts that this bring to your mind — not limited to and especially the recollection of the dream — more than anything, it's a reminder that you don't actually even really like this man. You don't enjoy his company, and you don't particularly enjoy conversing with him. The purpose that Doyoung serve in your life be uniquely in relation to him being the perfect, most amazing husband to Mina.

And how this might be precisely how you ended up here to begin with.

But what this really brings to question is one very pointed, very particular thing:

"A-are you asking me if I want to have sex with your husband...with intention of granting me permission to do so?"

The woman across from you shrugs, calling the wait staff over again for another drink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, one thing at a time. So, do you?"

Feeling a bit like a taboo, kinky carrot being dangled in front of your face — you know Mina well enough to know that she wouldn't be asking this in an attempt to set you up — to get upset with you, to drive a wedge between your friendship.

If she's asking, it's because she's genuinely curious, and has other such genuine intentions, as well.

Clearing your throat and blinking away the awkwardness in the fact that you're really about to answer this honestly: You could lie — pretend that it hasn't been stuck on your mind ever since, pretend that you haven't been fantasizing about him, and in a particularly low moment, cumming to the thought of him — but really, what good will that do you, now?

In fact, even just the conversation now bringing back the dull ache between your legs. Humiliating the power the subconscious can have over us.

"I mean," you quietly start with a shaky, unsure tone. "Yeah. Yes, I guess."

"I know, he's sexy, right? You wouldn't expect it but there's something about him—"

Your best friend regrettably far too accepting of this conversation topic.

"Look, it's not a big deal, I'm not like — dying for it," you cut her off suddenly, mostly in an attempt to deter the conversation from any more detail about that something about the man. "It's just like...in theory, you know, something about that angry, 'I don't like you, you don't like me' type of arrangement makes for a good fantasy but of course, it's just that."

"Right," she snorts again and into the glass pressed to her mouth. "Just that."

 Ten minutes later and with the check for lunch paid by the credit card of a particular husband, with Mina hurrying to gather her things on account of being late back to work — she hugs you quickly with one arm slung around you before rushing off the other way — but not before turning just as suddenly and whispering a little too loudly for your comfort given the people around.

"Look, obviously I can't make him fuck you, but I'll run it by him. I'll let you know. Cheers, babe!"

Great.

"Babe, come to bed!"

Tone whiny and pleading as she kicks her feet from beneath the covers of their shared, King sized bed, Mina groans into the pillow expectantly in anticipation of her husband joining her for a cuddle and a conversation.

Although, mostly the conversation, this time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Doyoung chimes back from their white and gold accented bedroom, toothbrush shoved into his mouth as he peeks his head out through the doorway just before spitting into the sink. "Pushy, aren't you?"

"One of the many things you love about me."

As he saunters towards the side of the bed, all too aware of his surroundings and even more than that, the mischievous grin pulled across the lips of his beloved wife — eyes narrowing with suspicion, he slows his movements just ever so slightly before finally crawling into bed next to her and meeting beneath the sheets. "Why do I have a feeling you're not just looking to snuggle up with your wonderful husband, tonight?"

"Aw, Doie, don't be like that—" Mina whines, wrapping her arms around his and pulling her body against his as he flips through channels on the television against the wall in front of them. "—I had lunch with my bestie today."

Glancing out of his peripheral towards her, Doyoung hums inquisitively, as if unsure of what this has to do with him but anticipating that he's going to find out. "That's good. How is she?"

"She's good," every word coming out like she's singing a song — one made up of no-good and trouble — charming in her tone. "Although, she's had a lot on her mind, lately — so to say."

Pausing, the man shifts just slightly in place as he finally settles on a channel and sets the remote control down between the two of them. "And why do I have a bad feeling about what that means?"

Lips gently beginning to decorate the exposed skin of his shoulder and arm, Mina smiles into them just before the words finally leave her. "She had a dream about you."

"Okay?"

Slow on the pick-up.

This time, she delivers the information a bit more pointedly. "She had a dream about you."

"Oh," he says quietly at first, until the fact of the matter finally, truly, dawns on him. "Oh."

A squint and a frown now, Doyoung's head turns quickly towards his wife.

"And she told you this?"

Mina nods.

"You both are a little too close."

"Well?" She finally offers up the question at hand, lips still innocently peppering across her lovers skin. "What do you think?"

"Are you asking me if I want to fuck your best friend? How would this work, anyway? It's not as if we even get on all that well—"

"I think that's part of it for her."

"—Kinky minx."

Slowly pulling from Doyoung and groaning into a long stretch of her limbs as if settling in for slumber, she smiles again. "It wouldn't be the first time, anyways."

"Yeah, but never friends," he says, rubbing his palms over his face as if a little taken aback by the topic of conversation as a whole. "—I mean, I'm down, you know her better than I do — if you think she can handle it."

"We'll have the discussion later, I wanted to run it by you, first."

Reaching a hand over to his wife, Doyoung pulls her by the arm back over and against his torso with a kiss to the top of her head as she settles her face into the crook of his neck.

"My little liaison," the man chuckles into her hair lovingly. "You just wanna hear about all the dirty little details after the fact, don't you?"

Pulling back to meet eyes with him, a scrunch of her nose and a giggle gives Doyoung all of the answer he would ever really need.

"What can I say? Everyone wins."

Two glasses of wine poured and the both of you sat next to one another on the large and undoubtedly far too expensive plush couch of the living room — a certain comfort of being only in the company of your best friend — it brings you back to so many other instances like this through the years of your friendship, curled up on far less luxury items but sharing all of the intimate details of your loves and lives, as the closest of friends tend to do.

Tonight, however, would offer a bit of a different experience. You're prepared for it, suppose, as much as you possibly can be, given the circumstances at play.

 "He's not home, is he?" You question suddenly, Mina tucking her legs under the rest of her with glass in hand as she situates herself to be facing you. A smile and a chuckle, she shakes her head. "No, it's just us."

Exhaling a sigh of relief at the option of being walked in on by the very topic of conversation not being on the table, you allow yourself at least a tiny bit more of comfort with the affirmation.

"You're going to have to be honest with me," Mina begins, one corner of her lips tugging upwards. "I can only relay to him what you tell me, and he's not going to freestyle it, either, so—"

You take a much larger swig from your glass than previously had, nearly finishing off the contents of it.

"—Tell me what you want."

"Another glass of wine, for starters."

Snorting, your best friend leans towards the table to grab the bottle into hand, tilting it towards your glass and filling it all over again. "You don't have to be uncomfortable, like I said, it's not really the first time we've done this."

"Yeah, news to me," you sigh with a bit of shock cutting through it. "All these years and I never knew."

Shrugging, Mina sets the bottle down again before settling into place all over. "People tend to assume monogamy among couples, we just allowed them to do so. Not as much of a stick in the mud as you thought he is, huh?"

Choosing not to acknowledge that fact, you take another sip of your wine, waiting for the topic of conversation to shift to something that is — effectively the same topic, but more in pertinence to you, specifically.

"So, tell me."

A sharp inhale, you know that you don't have to go through with this: You can just as easily call the whole thing off and pretend that none of this has ever happened — and that the both of them would happily carry on with their lifestyle all the same — but the unshakable lust for the man now deeply imbedded within you, like an itch that's otherwise impossible to scratch — an offering to have it when under most other circumstances it would have to remain as a dull, silent ache only left to you and your own devices, as it were.

 A little too sweet of a deal to turn down, you find. Not God's strongest soldier, it seems.

 "I don't — I don't want him to all of a sudden pretend like we're best friends and that we get along perfectly," you begin cautiously and with eyes darting up towards your friend with every passing of every word. "I want it to feel natural, to feel real, so—"

"You want him to fuck you like he hates you?"

Laid out so simply, the idea of it makes your throat dry, but you nod all the same. "Yeah, yeah I guess so."

"Let me tell you something," your friend begins as she shifts into a more comfortable position with one leg out and over the side of the couch. "What's always been a little funny to me with your preconceived notions about how Doyoung is in bed — he's actually quite...intense."

"What does that mean?"

"He likes to be in control, there's a bit of a dominant streak in him."

Hearing the words, the math starts coming together in your head about the way the man carries himself, the way he works, and just the way he is in general — you're not quite sure how the idea never dawned on you, perhaps too wrapped up in all of the ways that you find him insufferable and a bore, it only natural to assume the same of his abilities.

Before you have a moment to focus on the ache between your thighs, your friend continues on.

"Does that...sound like something that would interest you?"

Swallowing down your pride along with your arousal, you nod until the rim of your wine glass.

"Well, that's easy enough, then," Mina scoffs with a casual roll of her eyes, as if she had almost been hoping for it to be a bit more of a challenge for him to fulfill the role asked of him. "In that case, what's off limits?"

 For some reason, you hadn't bothered to think that far ahead. Your friend notices as much.

 "For what it's worth, there will be a safe word, so even if you agree to anything now or later or any time, really, you don't have to go through with anything if you're no longer having a good time."

Eyes widening at the concept of needing a safe word, you swallow hard. "That intense, huh?"

"It's up to you," she continues on. "It's not just for when things get wild or out of hand, hell, you can use it if you're just in the same room as him. Have you—" She pauses inquisitively, suddenly questioning whether or not this is a good idea at all. "—Done anything like this before?"

But hearing the reluctance in her tone, you nod quickly. "Yeah! Yes, not with...my best friends husband, though."

A cute grin across her face, Mina laughs with a coy flick of her wrist. "Don't get so caught up on that. He's my husband, yes, and for all intents and purposes very much still will be for the sake of the scene, but even more than that, he's here to fill a role — he knows that very well."

"Are you going to be involved?" You ask suddenly, the question only now popping into your mind. Your friend laughs.

"No, I mean, he'll tell me about it afterwards but I won't be like...planning scenes with him, or anything. Whatever he has in store for you — well, that's between the two of you, until after it happens, of course."

"Okay."

Taking a sip of her glass and glancing up at you through eyelashes, she brings the topic back around again. "So, no hard limits?"

"Piss play, shit play—" you quietly begin to list off before Mina stops you. "Okay, he's not into any of that either. I mean more along the lines of; name calling, degradation, humiliation, general rough-housing."

Even just thinking about partaking in half of those things with the man in passing sending a shiver down your spine, you shake your head. "I—I don't think so, maybe start slow, though."

"I'll let him know, again, don't be afraid to tell him to stop in the moment if he gets a little too carried away. He's a good dom."

'He's a good dom.'

What an absolutely perplexingly arousing set of words in succession.

Leaning back finally with your shoulders pressed to the couch, you exhale heavily with eyes high to the ceiling above as your friend mirrors your movement — but instead, with a bright smile pulling across her red, wine-stained lips.

"This is going to be so fun."

Part of the fun, you come to find, is the not knowing.

Even with rules, and safe words, and all of the parties involved very much having come to an understanding of the ins and outs of such an endeavor, the truth of the matter was this: You had no way of knowing when, or what, Doyoung has in store for you.

It's a little bit of risky play, too, at the core level. The fact that the two of you not be explicitly exchanging words among yourselves in order to maintain a certain sense of authenticity to the scene (far from unusual, in the kink world), but new to you, and most definitely requiring a level of trust among all people involved. Far from your favorite person, sure, but you trusted him — and that's far and away what a scenario like this require in order to make it run without a hitch.

And so the question runs constant at the forefront of your mind as you stand in front of your mirror, getting ready for the couples housewarming party: Are you going to fuck your best friends husband tonight?

Stemming from that very simple question, of course, comes a plethora of others: What should one wear? Is it too presumptuous to assume as much? What if it's just a normal evening party and you're completely out of your element in thinking he would fuck you tonight? Do you want to fuck him tonight?

Unfortunately, the answer to that one is an easy yes.

One of the rules being simple enough: The arrangement ends once you and Doyoung have penis in vagina sex — that considered to be the 'goal,' which then only begs the question of how much is the man intending to put you through before even getting to that point?

Or is he to get it done and over with as quickly as possible, instead?

Glancing into the reflection of the mirror and towards a simple, three-quarter sleeve black dress that hands down fitted to the knees, you think it sexy but not too sexy. Just sexy enough. The right amount of sexy.

Let's not appear too excited, after all.

  "Darling, you made it!"

Mina's voice ringing through the kitchen in a faux-french accent as she pours wine for a couple of friends — handing you a glass, she kisses your cheek before pulling away to look you up and down. "You look ravishing, my dear."

God, you hope so.

You find, however, that now that you're here, it's a bit more awkward than anticipated. Man of the hour no where to be found just yet, but unable to stop looking over your shoulder in an attempt to locate him — you sort of hope that your friend be all too preoccupied with the other guests to catch wind of just how hungry for this you may actually be.

Side pressed against the cupboard, you feel the nudge of someone attempting to open it, and turning in an instant to move yourself from out of the way, you're not at all prepared to meet the narrow, dark eyes of the man you're meant to — whatever, with — at some point in time.

You think that your stomach falls out of your ass right then and there.

"Look who showed up! You do take your job of being my wife's friend very seriously, after all."

"Doie! Don't start, it's not even ten o-clock yet!"

 It's almost bizarre to you the way that things carry on with such normalcy, given all of the ways in which the goings on between the three of you now be anything but. Reaching up and towards a bag of chips, with the mans eyes turned towards the subject, you allow yourself the greedy view of his fitted, navy blue button down tucked perfectly into black slacks, with a belt that you're sure costs more than your car payment, accenting it.

Sleeves pushed up and off of his forearms, you take in the way that the muscles and veins flex and move as he does.

Seeing Kim Doyoung in a whole new light — and more than that, you're allowed to do so.

How can a man this fucking insufferable look like this.

"I'll have you know, I can't be out late tonight," you bite back, a good effort in pretending that you hadn't just been eye-fucking him only seconds earlier. "Early morning in the office, tomorrow."

"What a shame," he exasperates sarcastically, settling back down to his heels and handing off the bag to Mina as she walks by with a carefully placed elbow into his side for...being the way that he is. "Don't let us keep you."

"Be nice." You hear your friend groan from just down the hall.

Everything the same as it always is.

Shrugging and reaching to his other side, the man grabs a single popcorn — tossing it into his mouth with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Don't worry, I was just leaving. Some of us still have work to do."

You have really got to get this out of your system.

  "Mina!"

Shouting through the open flooring of the living space towards your friend, you don't bother waiting to hear back a response before you carry on with the thought.

"Is the downstairs bathroom working yet?"

"No, you have to use our bathroom. Upstairs, to the right, all the way down."

With a quick yell back, you hurry yourself up the while, marbled staircase — not having to go particularly badly yet but mostly instead wishing to get away from the volume of the crowd downstairs for a bit — you realize it's your first time having been on the second floor of the home. Still so new and unexplored, you can't help but take in the sight in a way that feels akin to sight-seeing.

The two certainly did not do badly for themselves.

Slowly making your way down the hallway, your attention is instead drawn to a single room to the left and just before the end of the hall — the tiniest bit of flickering, blue light spilling out from the open doorway — simply enough, you know who reside inside.

Carefully sneaking past in an attempt not to disturb him as he works, you can't help but turn your head to peek at the man inside: head cocked to the side to hold his phone there as his hands work busily at a keyboard on the desk in front of him — but you should really know better than to think that you can get away that easily.

Eyes picking up and towards you, one hand pulling upwards and pushing out his index finger towards you. That silent motion that we all know.

The 'come hither.'

Glancing back down the hall from the direction in which you came, you slowly step towards the doorway, palms nervously pressed to either side before slipping past as quietly as can be — then, with the flick of his wrist, Doyoung motions for you to shut the door behind you.

Your heart rate spikes so hard you feel dizzy.

Hand shaking as you reach out and toward the door, you carefully pull it closed behind you — not all of the way, still sitting ajar just behind you — but seemingly good enough for the man and with eyes glued to you all the while, it's then that he motions once again with his finger for you to come to him.

A slow saunter, feeling the way that your heart beats so hard and fast against your chest you're certain that the people on the other end of the phone can hear it, once you reach just beside him, it's then that he finally swivels his chair around and to the side to face you.

Along with issuing another command: To get on your knees.

The truth of it is that it's humiliating how aroused you already are by it all: A quiet, drowning culmination of so many things happening all at once. The fact that it's so wrong to be doing at all, the fact that you had only an hour ago been downstairs reconsidering if it was worth it entirely given how horrible he is, and beyond all of that — the unknown.

A dull thrum between your legs as you slowly kneel down and between his, thankful at least for the friction that that provides.

Legs spread wide before you, you watch as Doyoung slowly slips one hand down the front of his pants to settle over the growing bulge beneath. Barely noticeable strokes over himself and only inches from your face — remaining calm and collected on the work call in his ear as he does so, you slowly bring a hand up to unfasten his belt as the heady desire of watching him work himself begins to course through even pump of your veins.

Catching your wrist in his other hand just as quickly to stop you from touching him, the two of you make eye contact: a look in his features of displeasure and disapproval.

You're not allowed to touch him.

Watching in silence as Doyoung's head falls back against the office chair, barely able to make out the strands of black hair sticking to his slicked forehead — you can't hear him, on account of the call, but the visual enough to drive you mad, and probably even worse than the dream had ever done — pressing your thighs together as tightly as you can manage as you eye the movement of his fist beneath the fabric of his slacks. Growing faster, using his free hand to pull his shirt up and out of the way so that you can watch the way the muscles of his abdomen move with every tug of his hand against his cock — it's truly the most excruciating and simultaneously intoxicatingly arousing thing you've ever watched.

Internally begging for the request that you climb up and onto his lap to take him, or at the very least taste him, you realize all too suddenly that you might really be in over your head this time as you watch him come in his pants for your viewing pleasure, only.

Completely silent, heavy breaths as his chest rises and falls with each one, Doyoung brings his head back up from the back of the chair to tentatively meet your eyes once again as he pulls his dirtied fingers from the inside of his pants.

Playing with the way that his cum coats his fingers for a brief moment, he motions for you one last time — but this time, a much different meaning to that single, cum-covered digit.

You waste no time leaning toward him, and for a moment, it's like you don't even recognize yourself, anymore; long past the realm of the kind of lust-drunken stupor you've ever experienced before — and as the man shoves long, sullied fingers into your mouth, it's an automatic response the way you suck and swirl your tongue around them, as if wishing them to be the cock you would be more than willing to beg for any moment now.

When finished, Doyoung frees his hands from your lips, only to motion you away from him just as simply as he had beckoned you.

 Stumbling down the hall towards the bathroom in which you had originally intended to find, panties slick and soiled with nothing besides your own desire — the words from your bestie ring loud through your memory in a horny daze.

'Intense' might have been the understatement of the year.

When Mina invites you to a work party for her husband, all that you can think about is the night of their housewarming: sucking his cum off of his fingers in the dull, blueish glow of a computer monitor.

You wonder if she knows. Surely, she knows.

Similarly, modestly dressed as that night — this time in a nice blouse and a fitted pair of dress pants, your friend praises your attire as you enter the busy conference room, shoving a tall glass of bubbly into your hands just as quickly as you're able to greet her back.

"Thank you for coming," she sighs in relief. "I was so fucking bored."

You can't help but wonder what this evening has in store for you now.

Now that you've gotten a taste...no pun intended.

"Sure, I didn't have anything better to do."

"Unsurprising, stuff like this is your job, after all, isn't it?"

Slipping up from the side of the both of you with a proud smirk — hair slicked back and off of his forehead to accompany the the just as put together look of his freshly pressed suit, Doyoung comes up to settle next to his wife, hand settling just at the curve of her hip.

You sort of wonder what it feels like to so easily be touched by him before shaking the thought from your mind entirely.

"Are you ever going to let that joke go?" You ask with a roll of the eyes. "It wasn't funny the first time, promise it's not getting funnier the more mileage it gets."

"I'll stop making it when you stop showing up everywhere, maybe."

"She invited me!" You scoff, only to watch the man bend over to whisper the response into Mina's ear. "Don't worry, I'll handle her for that later."

Out loud, your response is of feigned disgust at the sight, but inside, the visual of the man so vividly offering himself to someone once again reigniting the lust in your gut.

It's a deep, untamed need to have him, now. Part of you hopes that tonight will be the night that he finally puts you out of your misery. Get it out of your system, and move on with your life. Go back to nothing but pointed distaste for the man that your best friend chose to marry.

"Well, I'm off, got to make the rounds," The man finally says with a kiss to the top of his wife’s head before gifting you nothing but a raise of the eyebrows in acknowledge of your existence. "Have fun."

It's funny, because it's precisely what you had requested. For him not to pretend. To not act differently in any other circumstances — for everything to carry on as it normally would. You wonder if it's a conscious effort on his part to do so, or if it simply comes that easy to the man.

  Quarter past eleven, you make your way out and onto the balcony by yourself — Mina off enjoying herself with a couple of the other work wives — weaving your away around a handful of folded and tucked umbrellas, tables and chairs for outdoor dining — you manage to find yourself a comfortable little nook of privacy off and to the side, and far from the line of sight of any prying eyes.

Thankfully, as it not be much of a habit you wish to be caught partaking in.

Digging into your bag to drag out the long, white stick from its box along with a lighter and sandwiching it between gently parted, red-stained lips, you light the cigarette and inhale with a feeling of relief washing over you — no, not a habit that you find yourself indulging in often, but perhaps after a few drinks on a particular night, you'd be known to have a bit of crumble to your resolve.

You know that Mina would have a thing or two to say, so best that she not know at all.

 "Look at you—"

Not just the sound of a voice, but a mans voice at that being the thing to startle you, swinging around to find the visage only slightly more comforting than that of a strangers.

"—Don't you have secrets."

Strolling towards you with hands in pockets, you watch as Doyoung closes the distance between the two of you with a toothpick between teeth, and feeling like a child caught red-handed, the lump in your throat catches any chance you have at swallowing down the obvious nervousness carried through your body at his discovery.

Turning away and facing out towards the railing of the balcony, you choose instead not to give power to his overwhelming presence as you inhale another puff of the stick.

"It's just a social thing when I drink."

A quick, careful shift of his body and Doyoung just as easily has you caged in with arms on either side and chest pressed to your back.

It's not the only thing pressed to your back side, either.

Mouth dipping down into the crook of your neck as you carry on your desperate attempt to ignore him, he never kisses you — never actually makes contact of his lips to your skin — but the feathering of warm breath that smells of expensive scotch all the same kind of intoxicating, as if having drank the liquor yourself.

"Have you thought about the other night?"

The first, verbal acknowledgement of this between the two of you. Suppose, it always was just a matter of time before actual words had to be spoken in relation to it, but with one hand sliding closer to your own along the guard rail as the warmth of the words linger against your skin, you swallow dryly at the question before attempting an answer.

"Y-yeah."

"Did you like how I tasted?"

Doyoung answers back to you much too quickly for your liking, obviously far more comfortable and in control of this interaction than you find yourself to be — by design, based on Mina's run down of the man and his sexual preferences — but more surprisingly than that is the way that it doesn't feel alarming, or discomforting, but rather, pools the arousal between your legs faster than you think anyone or anything else ever has.

It's humiliating, and unfortunately, that sort of adds to it, as well.

Fingers around your wrist, the man pulls you around and back towards one of the tables just behind where the both of you stand — a small, couch-like set up with a cloth awning that doesn't allow for a visual inside of it unless you be directly in the front of it — Doyoung drags you gently towards it before seating himself down with legs spread, and this time, hands busily working at his belt as he stares up at you.

"Knees."

If someone had asked you why you simply obey the commands, you wouldn't even really be able to tell them outside of the throbbing, painful need to find out what obeying may get you in the end.

Taking your place between his legs, you dare not attempt to reach out and touch him this time, figure, you learned your lesson from the first encounter enough — watching instead as his fingers pull the leather from it's loops, then work at the button just beneath — a quick lift of his hips to press his dress slacks down only enough to expose himself as necessary, but with the added coverage of his briefs, as well.

You realize now, in this moment, that you'll do just about anything to fucking see it.

Same hand as before sliding down his stomach and gripping his cock from under the remaining fabric, you watch with lewd attentiveness as the man strokes himself in front of your face all over again, just as before.

"Want another taste?" He says, words airy and lustful. Nodding your head in affirmation like a dog begging for a treat, Doyoung chuckles under his breath. "Are you wet?"

The question excites you more than anything else, because surely, he's asking for one reason and one reason, alone.

Quickly darting your hand down and between your legs, the man shoots up and off of the back of the seat with a sudden urgency. "Don't. Don't touch yourself. Surely you know without checking."

Nodding again, you try to say "yes," but the words barely escape through the dryness of your mouth.

"Good girl," he answers, leaning against the seat again and slipping thumbs into the sides of the fabric remaining at his hips to pull it down only a few more inches from where it currently lie. Watching intently as his cock springs free from the confines — finally in full view for you — long and perfectly curved, not too thin but not enough thickness to him that taking him would be troublesome, suddenly, it's as if the problem of your mouth being too dry be replaced now by one of being too wet — watering at the sight of something you want to feel inside of you so desperately that by the second you find yourself losing the ability to feign disinterest in him.

Dominant hand snaking around his length again, Doyoung brings his other hand forward and towards you — wrapping around to the back of your head and fingers curling into the strands of hair there. It stings, but nothing too bad, and instead you find the pain only amplify the throb between your legs now as he dangle precisely what it is that you want just out of reach and in front of your face with every slow, gentle stroke of his hand along his cock.

"You want another taste, yeah?" He whispers this time as he tightens his grip into your hair and tilts your head back — perfect angle for the wet, head of his cock to rub just at your chin and bottom of your lip.

It's exciting, painfully so, as the untouched arousal coiling within you threatens. For a second, you really wonder if you can cum from this alone.

"If I cum for you will you be a good girl and swallow it for me?" He says then as the movement of his hand begins to pick up just that much more. "I come a lot, can you handle that?"

For some reason, the thought of the man having full, heavy loads of cum makes you even hotter for him. Something so primal and lewd about the idea of it — but perhaps you're too fucked out on not being fucked by now that you can't tell what's sexy and what's not, anymore.

Either are possible.

"Y-yes," you huff out, darting your tongue out to lick at the bottom of your lip and not-so-accidentally meeting with the tip of his length. Devilish grin taking his features, Doyoung stills his actions just as easily — an impressive amount of self-control. "Uh-uh, that's cheating."

Pulling you up and higher from your knees so that you gain more height above him, with the way that you're positioned over his cock, you think that he may threaten to impale your throat on him in one, smooth go. Deep down, you sort of hope he does.

"Spit."

The command comes through so strong in tone that you quickly answer to it, collecting enough saliva in your mouth to dribble down and onto the already plenty wet shaft of his cock as he continues to stroke himself through it with a low, throaty groan that makes you want nothing more than to swallow him whole with how close you are to it.

"Wanna suck my cock, baby?"

You nod wildly.

Hissing through his teeth at the sight of your neediness, he picks up the pace of his fist along his shaft as he settles you back down to your original position between his knees — tip of himself pressed along your lip. "How bad do you want it? Will you beg to have me in your mouth?"

"Yes, please—"

"I didn't say to beg, I just asked if you would," he amends with a patronizing cock of his head. "Want me to fuck your throat? Choke down my cum for me like a good girl?"

The throb nearly unbearable now, you can only whine at the words as he gets closer and closer to his own completion.

"Why don't you open that pretty little mouth for me so I can give you what you came here for?"

The words coming out in a deep, throaty groan as he teeters on the edge of completion, you allow your jaw to fall slack as he fucks himself with his hand a few more times before moaning out through gritted teeth at the feeling of his release — ropes of warm, wet cum painting your cheek and lips despite mostly being caught on your tongue as he comes in waves with every pull of his fingers along his length until finally stilling — leaning forward only to gaze upon his artistic handy work before telling you to swallow it all as previously instructed.

On the way home that night, only ten, simple words lingering on your mind as you make peace with the discomfort of your arousal along the way.

'so I can give you what you came here for.'

"Mina! I'm—"

Turning the corner and into the kitchen to find the door to fridge open — this is all well and good, except for, of course, once it closes and you're forced into contact with the same man who just came in your mouth unceremoniously a week prior.

Expressionless otherwise, Doyoung raises an eyebrow at the sight of you in his home before closing the stainless steel door and walking the other way.

"Guess my lovely wife forgot to inform her employee about the schedule change!" He says with a huff.

"You have got to let that joke go."

Right back to the usual. You wonder what sort of cruel games God plays when granting such a horrible man such a beautiful cock.

Shrugging and turning to look back at you from over his shoulder, the man takes a pitcher of water from the counter; pouring himself a glass before taking another one down from the cupboard and filling that, as well. Slowly carrying on towards you, he hands you the perfect crystal before nodding towards the marble island sitting in the middle of the kitchen for you both to take seats at.

Watching him move, it's such a different feeling from the one that intimately, you've grown a bit accustomed to. You know well enough that people involved in kink and alternate lifestyles are just regular people, but suppose you find yourself never having been so involved with one.

Or rather, fooling around with one who also happens to be married to your best friend.

Oversized, brown sweater hanging off of broad shoulders and thin, round framed glasses, Doyoung perches himself onto one of the stools with a gentle clank of his glass against the cool marble beneath — elbow snug against the hard material and hand serving as a means to lean his temple against as he looks upon you.

It's a little bizarre, feeling him watch you in a way that doesn't feel sexual at all. In a way, you find, it might be the first time Doyoung has really paid you any attention at all beyond the irritating banter of your joint, non-intimate involvement.

Looking charmingly soft and domestic, it's hard to make sense of the man seated in front of you, and the man who asked you to spit on his dick a week ago.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Taking a small sip from your glass, you try to drink down with it the nervousness of being in his presence, but suppose, maybe just a normal conversation will help alleviate that much.

"Have you...told her?"

Stilling, as if not quite sure what it is that you're asking, Doyoung's eyes first pull away from you in some attempt to gather knowledge from elsewhere that he not quite have in front of him. "Yeah, she told you I would."

Thumbing at the rim of your glass, intentionally avoiding any and all eye contact with the man, you hum in response. "What does she think?"

Glancing up, you catch the sight of a grin taking the mans lips, tongue darting across his lower lip like he's finally cracked the case of what all of this is about — settling back into his position from just before with a wide, gummy smile that you're not all that used to seeing.

"She thinks it's hot, is that what you want to hear?"

Snorting at the reply, you shrug. "I don't know. I guess."

"If this is some juvenile way of asking if everyone on our end is okay with the way things are taking place thus far, then the answer is 'yes,'" he says with an annoyingly judgmental tone to his voice. "Everything good on your end?" He adds much to your surprise, popping your head up suddenly at the question.

"Uh," you begin, bashful at the thought of further acknowledging the goings on between the two of them at this current point in time. "Y-yeah, everything is good."

Answering you first with a nod as he sets the glass into the sink, the man carries on down the short hallway and out of the kitchen entirely.

"Well, I've got work to do. Mina'll be home in about a half an hour. Make yourself comfortable, you apparently live here, after all."

Frown on your face at the words and tightening the grip on the set of keys that most definitely go to this home — suppose it's a fair enough assessment.

  After a much later night than usual, with Mina in bed and keys of your own, it's simple enough to let yourself out.

Dimly lit hallways all of the way into the kitchen, it's on your way to sneaking out that you recall having left your dirty glass on the counter — and without giving Doyoung any more reasons to be a thorn in your side, obviously, it easier to be dealt with now. Easy enough.

Except that apparently this guy fucking lives in the kitchen.

Laptop propped up onto the same counter that the two of you shared your small chat earlier, the man watches you move slowly through the area — carefully reaching towards your glass and taking it into your hand as you slide it towards yourself and turn to set it precisely where it is that it belongs.

"Sorry," you whisper on your way past him again and towards the kitchen exit, before that familiar, strong hand finds itself looping around your wrist all over again.

You don't know if you can handle another night like the other two, however.

Pulling you into him with your back to his chest and still seated in place, you think it perhaps a good idea to have worn a cute little sun dress today.

That's not the only surprise you have in waiting, either.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other slinks down to the inside of your thigh — you delight in the feeling of the man touching you, really touching you, for the first time. Delicate pads of his fingers feathering up slowly to the apex of your thighs, it's only due to the position of you against him in such a way that he feels the knocking of something hard against his wrist as he attempts to move closer to your vulva.

And it causes him to still completely.

Seconds of silence passing between you, nearly holding your breath at the anticipation of what's to come — you wonder if he'll choose to punish you for daring to go out on a limb and do such a thing, if punishment is even really something he would do — so many questions and possibilities, all more exciting than the last.

Slowly, you feel him lower his head down, mouth just next to your ear as the very same traveling hand pulls back to your behind and presses a finger right up against the exact thing causing the intrusion.

"Well, well, well," he whispers teasingly against your flesh. "Someone came over with expectations."

Already having opted out of verbally replying to him, he makes it easy with the ease in which he pushes you forward to give him space to stand — fingers pressed into the side of your neck from behind as he hurriedly urges you towards the darkened, least lit countertop in the kitchen.

It's a nice attention to detail: Not that the two of you have to sneak around, but pretending to makes it all that much more worth it.

Forcing your face and chest down and folding you over, Doyoung bunches the fabric of your dress up and over your ass just before diving by hand into the back of your panties for precisely the device that has him in such a mood.

"Who told you to wear this?" He asks with a gentle press against it. One finger extending down, he dips into your folds just ever so lightly before pulling back up with a chuckle under his breath. "You're so wet. Aren't you a little cockslut?"

The shift in Doyoung's demeanor this time hard to ignore, like a little bit of him lost in some sort of primal, animalistic lust to have you — it's precisely what you had been going for, after all.

Distinct sound of him hurriedly trying to pull himself from his jeans, met then with the feeling of long, deft fingers gently tugging your underwear down your legs — Doyoung pulls your hips up and out just enough before pressing your thighs closed together with his cock sandwiched in between and the plug in your ass on display for him as he continues gently pushing and pulling on it with ever shallow thrust of his hips against you.

It's excruciating, the promise of feeling him snug between your walls in only an inch or so of adjustment — head of his cock rutting gently against your swollen clit as he aimlessly fucks the wetness of your pussy from the outside — you regret the way that the quake of your thighs give away the fact that you may be able to come from this contact alone.

Slowing his movements against you with hands firmly pressed into the dip of your hips, Doyoung leans down and against you to whisper more torment into your ears.

"So close, baby," he huffs out. "You're so wet, could slide inside of you so easily — fuck you raw right here, would you like that?"

As if the knowing and the wanting wasn't enough, the talking always ending up as your ultimate downfall with the man.

You nod despite the way in which the side of your face lie against cold, unforgiving marble — looking back at him as he administers this particular punishment of the night. You're not sure if it's intended to be a punishment — of if any of it really is, but it certainly does feel that way.

Perhaps you're just a little bit too used to getting what you desire, with ease.

"Sort of want to," he says through gritted teeth, a certain tonal anger that you don't think you've heard from the man in your encounters before but that causes you to clench hard around nothing all the same. The promise of finally getting what you want to bad — the taking of what he wants and needs of you even in spite of himself. One hand sliding up your back and setting on the back of your neck again, he pulls his hips back just enough to position the tip of his length perfectly at your entrance — threatening all the while with shallow pokes to sheath himself inside of you once and for all.

"Fuck you stupid, have you babbling my name while I fuck you full of my load like the cum-hungry bitch that you are, that's what you want me to do, right?" Without giving you time to respond, you feel him pull hard enough on the plug embedded in your ass to remove it, tossing it into the sink only a little bit away. "Come over here with this in makes me act a little fucking crazy — but you haven't earned having me in your cunt just yet."

Hand swooping down from the small of your back and cradling instead his length as he positions the tip of himself at your well-prepped asshole — well enough lubricated from topically fucking your pussy, Doyoung presses himself inside of the tight cavern slowly with a bitten bottom lip and a forced back groan from his chest as he sinks inside of you as delicately as he can muster.

You're thankful enough for his attention, but it's not your first rodeo, and you prepped for a reason — pushing your hips back and against him as signal to carry on, he brings the hand back up and to your shoulder, leverage to pull you back with force and onto his cock with every following snap of his hips.

Truthfully, he feels fucking exquisite inside of you.

"Fuck, Doyoung—" you whine, only for one hand to swing around and over your mouth just as quickly as the words exit.

"Don't address me," he grits through drives of his hips into you — moans spilling out through his fingers all the same as if no hand there at all. "Don't talk, just take my cock like you're supposed to."

Nodding, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to come so badly and not knowing if you can get there untouched — tears threatening the corners of your eyes with every relentless yet heavenly drag of the mans cock inside of your ass — it's then that you feel the ghosting of fingers over your clit. A feeling so exciting to you now that you nearly bear down against them, to which, Doyoung chuckles at your neediness.

"Can't just come from my cock in your ass?" He whispers, the lewd sound of his hips meeting the flesh of your behind echoing through the otherwise empty bottom floor of the home. "How much do you think I'd have to rub you before you came all over my hand? Ten seconds?—"

The light, feathering of the tip of his fingering feeling nearly electric over your clit now, you moan out into the palm of his hand with eyes clamped shut. "—Five seconds?"

Breathing heavily through his hand as he continues his relentless drive into you from behind, pulling his hand away from between your legs you whine loudly against the flesh of him at the loss of yet another release, but instead, the hand around your mouth curling fingers between your lips as you happily and seductively suck around them like cock presented. Groaning at the sight, his other free hand traveling up the length of your torso and finding purchase against your breast as his thumb gently circles around the bud there — Doyoung leans down to curl his lips into a smile against your back at the sight of all of the ways that you're willing to fall apart for him.

"I think you can come without it."

Gently fucking his fingers into your mouth — simulating the presence of his length currently buried in your ass, also buried down your throat, with the additional stimulation of gentle tugs and flicks of his thumb against your nipple, pressing your thighs together tightly — you suspect that he might be right.

"God, look at you," he groans, slowing his hips to focus elsewhere as he watches the way you hungrily lap at his fingers. "You want to suck my cock so bad — have you always wanted it, baby?"

It's nearly involuntary, the moan that rips through you as the words leave his mouth.

Just shy of baby talking, condescending certainly, Doyoung pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your tongue as he shoves all of the way into your mouth to the best of his ability given the angle. "That why you act like that? Need me to fuck your face open, make you gag on it a little bit so you shut up?"

The words, with a particularly sharp snap of his hips, has your legs pressing in on themselves in just a way that you know with a little bit more movement, you can get there. Through tears brimming in your eyes, you manage out a desperate plea past the mans fingers — met with such a familiar sinister grin, Doyoung picks up the pace of his hips — harder and fuller with length against you as you nearly cry out around the fingers still dug in between your lips.

Digging a hand up from your chest and in your hair again, knuckles twisting into it hard as he chases his high, with a bit back groan he gazes down at you — standing tall and firm from behind you as you barely manage to meet eyes with him from your twisted position.

"Gonna come, baby?" He whispers through labored breaths as he teeters on the edge of release. "Want me to fuck my cum in your ass, don't you?"

"Yes, yes—" You chant at the promise of finally being able to come in the presence of the man. You're thankful when it's only two or three more stutters of his hips into you from behind before he releases into you — hot cum spilling into your hole as he shoves the full length of himself inside as he finishes. It's enough for you, thankfully, enough friction from the movement of him against you to have you barreling over the edge along with him with a shriek and a whine through his fingers as you come hard and long for the first time since you two have begun your rendezvous.

Chests heaving as the man gently pulls himself from you, you quickly bend down to pull your panties up to catch the mess of cum already immediately making its exit from your used, stretched open hole. Turning back around to face him as he effectively cages you in with arms on either side of the counter — the two of you make eye contact briefly before a gentle flushing of embarrassment washes over you and you're forced to pull away from the man that only seconds ago was inside of you.

"Try to remember to wash your dishes, would you? I can't do this every time."

Turning back suddenly, you playfully slap at his arm as he shimmies his jeans back up and around his hips.

Mixed drink and a slightly over-cooked quesadilla in front of you on the table of a busy, evening restaurant on your side of town — in the company of a handful of shared friends, Mina and her miserable husband, you can't help the pique in curiosity about the ins and outs of such an arrangement from inside of the marital home.

How much their relationship benefits from the retelling of such engagements with your best friends husband. How much their sex life benefits from it.

Watching from your peripheral — an attempt to not make it so obvious, how interested you are in the dichotomy of it — Mina and Doyoung playfully flirting and touching each other from across the table as if the man hadn't just sodomized you in their kitchen only a few days prior.

It turns you on even that much more. The mystery behind it.

"God—" An exasperated sigh from the man; black turtle neck and fitted black jeans just under the table as he sets his glass back down onto the table with a disgruntled scrunch of facial features adorning his face. "—This drink is terrible, I should say something."

Squinting, the pointless complaint pulls something from you. Such a typical, stuck up, rich guy thing to say.

"Drinks are two dollars here, what did you expect?"

"I don't care if it's two or twenty dollars, if I'm paying for it then it should at least be drinkable."

Eyes turning towards your friend seated next to you as she meets your gaze just the same, a swift kick across the way to her husbands shin has him rolling his eyes and jolting back in his chair. "Be good, Doie."

"Yes, dear."

"Can't take him anywhere," You whisper to your friend, well within earshot of the man, which of course only causes him to lean in and towards the both of you with an irritated frown. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"Better than talking to you."

"Trust me," he sighs, leaning back into his seat again. "The feeling is more than mutual. I wonder everyday how you ended up with a key to our place."

 For whatever reason, that one stings in particular.

 Normally, dealing with Doyoung is something that you're used to — but tonight, there's a certain tone to him that you find hitting somewhere in your chest in a much different way. Not just banter, but perhaps a deeply personal disapproval of not only you, but your friendship with his wife.

It's not that you anticipated starting a sexual relationship with him to have fixed your dealings outside of it — quite the contrary, actually — but maybe enough was enough, now.

You've cum on my face, the least you could do is treat me with a basic level of respect.

 Napkin out of your hand and onto the table in a way that it's obvious of your displeasure, you stand suddenly and inform Mina of your departure to the bathroom. "Do you want me to come with you?" She of course offers, only for you to quickly dismiss it and assure her that you're fine as you carry yourself off and down the short hallway to the small, two-stall ladies room.

Leaned over the dirty, wet, black granite counter with both hands pressed into the edge, you look at yourself in the reflection — needing a moment to cool off, you're still relatively unsurprised when you don't receive it.

Cracking the door open, you watch from in front of you as the most insufferable man you've ever known slips inside to join you.

"You having fun?" He starts, already with intent to have a fight with you. "Have fun causing a scene?"

"Oh, I'm causing a scene!" You chime sarcastically, "not the guy who wants to complain about a two dollar drink not being up to par. Does it ever get exhausting? Being so fucking far up your own ass?"

Rushing towards you in an instant, Doyoung wraps a hand in your hair from behind — first pushing you forward with the momentum of it but just as quickly ripping you backwards and towards one of the empty stalls. Door slamming shut behind the both of you and just as quickly allowing the back of his shoulders fall to the wall, he works quickly at his belt as the sinister look in his eyes never once leaves your own.

You wonder how he has this kind of power — only seconds ago the most horrible man you could ever imagine being around, but now, watching him stare you down as he works to free his cock for you in this public bathroom — you realize that it's that precise mixture of things that makes his desirability so strong. Painfully so, as the throb between your legs already finds itself stirring up once again.

Barely pushed down his hips and freeing his hardening length, languid strokes over himself as he stands in front of you never once breaking eye contact for a second, you realize in humiliating silence that you're waiting for his command.

Of which, he quickly grants you: "Why don't you put that mouth to good use, for once."

Maybe if you hadn't been wanting it for so long already you'd be more willing to put up a bit of a fight, but finally being granted one of the things you've been dying for since the beginning of this endeavor with him — falling to your knees in the filth of this bathroom stall and immediately taking him into your hand with a long, enthusiastic swipe of your tongue up the bottom of his shaft — the low, breathy groan that it grants you reason enough to pull forward to take the head of his cock between your lips and swirl your tongue there, only to press down along his length for as far as you can before the tip of him threatens the back of your throat.

Unfortunately, it's not much of him that you can take before that happens.

Hand in your hair again as you've grown so familiar, you hear the sound of his head falling back against the granite before parting his lips to speak. "Gonna have to do a better job than that. How good can you be?"

You know what he's really asking.

Pulling you forward by your hair harder along his length, you struggle to accommodate him in your mouth, but it's not the first time you've done something like this — he's not asking too much of you — but it's sudden, and the burn against your throat something you're not used to feeling as your gag reflex begins to trigger and tears well up in your eyes at the struggle.

Doyoung pulls you back only slightly so that you can take a deep breath before bringing your mouth back along him. "Come on, you're gonna have to take it all, baby."

The words 'have to' immediately pooling between your legs, especially.

Gagging around him, the man moans through the sounds of you struggling to take his cock into your throat, he begins shallow, short thrusts against your mouth in an attempt to bring your nose flush with the skin of his pubic area, but with this not being something you've done often enough — there's part of you that wants to fight through it, because frankly, you've been fantasizing about this very moment since the very first night you tasted his cum from his fingers, anyways — but perhaps you should have practiced a bit more (or at all) at home in anticipation for this night.

You don't want to, but everyone has limits.

Three fast taps of your hand against his thigh, Doyoung immediately removes himself from your hair, allowing you to pull off from him just as quickly — coughing into the crook of your elbow as you attempt to regain oxygen into your lungs, you can't see much through the wetness gathered in your eyelashes, but you do hear the sound of him tucking himself away again before kneeling down to meet you on the floor.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"No," you rasp out, sounding far more fucked and broken than you actually are, but rather, a physical result of the assault on your throat. Really, you're fine, just too much, too fast. "I'm okay, seriously, just couldn't yet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Concern dripping from his voice — he's not touching you, purposely as to give you enough space from him, you shake your head with a chuckle as you bring your hand up to wipe the tears away from your eyes before making eye contact with him again.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, I was a little too enthusiastic, I think."

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Chuckling again at the way that the man almost insists on handling you with kid gloves, you roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm not broken, I just can't deep throat seven inches of dick on a whim without a bit of practice."

"Aw," Doyoung coos, running a hand gently through your hair, before standing himself and helping you to your feet. "You think I'm seven inches. That's sweet."

Sniffling hard and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before straightening your clothing and dusting off your knees, you shoot the man a confused frown. "Bigger or smaller?"

Unlocking the stall door and motioning for you to exit, Doyoung offers you a simple wag of his index finger and a pompous grin before answering.

"A lady never tells. After you."

With weeks of fooling around with Kim Doyoung under your belt now, you find a certain level of trust and comfort established. Exemplified by his adhesion to boundaries and safe words at the drop of a hat, you can't help but recall the words that Mina had offered you so early on in the initial discussions of this foray into ethical non-monogamy.

'He's a good dom.'

Sure, you have a lot of criticisms of the man: That he's brash, boring, conceited, self-important and a whole other mess of ways to say that he's far from the kind of man you'd like to see yourself with at the end of the day, but one thing is for sure — safety, respect and trust are of the utmost importance to him.

Thinking back to that time in the bathroom — immediately unconcerned with the state of his erection in favor of the state of your well-being — sure, it sort of is the bare minimum when it comes to this sort of sexual play, but something to be celebrated, all the same.

So now, you may have an interest in rearranging some of the terms of your agreement.

  "Honey, I'm home!"

Annoyingly sing-song in a way that you know will irritate the man of the house but be effortlessly charming to the person that you're there to see — when met with silence, you're a bit disappointed. After all, playing house in spite of Doyoung's clear distaste for it has turned into one of your favorite past times.

Both the playing house, and the irritating him parts.

"Hello?" You ask again, listening to the way the words echo through the empty, lower-level of the home, only to eventually be met regretfully by the husband — apron-clad and wooden spoon in hand as he settles a straight-faced look upon you without offering anything for words.

Then, he turns back and into the kitchen from which he came.

A roll of the eyes, you set your bag down on a chair near the door, kicking your shoes off and following after him — eyes pulling towards the familiar countertop that you've more than become acquainted with as you circle around to the other side of the kitchen island to sit in the very same chair that the man had been seated in the last time that the two of you had your...engagements, here.

"So," you sigh. "When's Mina coming home?"

"She's not."

The words sort of send a chill down your spine, because the first thing that comes to mind is that the things that the two of you have been engaging in have now torn their relationship apart.

But, Mina was the one that told you to come over.

Glancing over his shoulder while perched over the stove — obvious horror splashed across your face, Doyoung laughs at the obvious line of thought in your mind. "She's on a business trip."

"Then, why did she tell me to come over?"

Halfway into turning his attention back to his cooking, he brings his head all the way back to look at you again: It's a look that says, "you know why, don't play dumb now."

He doesn't offer verbal confirmation, but you understand the jist of it well enough with just that. "Have you eaten?" He asks instead, to which you nod. "Yeah, had something on the way over."

It's sort of perfect, the way that the pieces fall together as Doyoung stands across from you at the very same island — a small bowl of soup being shoveled into his mouth with no particular haste as you watch him — gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, it's a cozy look that you're not all that used to seeing from him considering the majority of your involvement with him has been out and about.

You've been meaning to bring this up, anyways.

"I think—" you start quietly, picking at the skin around your fingernails lightly. The nervousness being the first thing that Doyoung notice as his eyes travel up from his empty bowl and towards your own, waiting for you to finish the thought.

"—I don't want to do this anymore. With you. It feels wrong. I can't do it anymore."

The layer of silence that falls across the atmosphere of the kitchen feeling so suffocatingly thick as you wait for his response — the man simply staring at you quietly through his eyelashes without even the slightest bit of movement until his lips part ever so lightly to speak.

"Color?"

And with confidence, you whisper back "green."

Squinting at you, you recall back having mentioned this to Mina in passing: the resistance kink. The desire to be 'taken,' to have a complete loss of control over the situation — participating in something so dirty, so wrong, and loving every second of it so much that you desperately wish for the morality of it to be out of your hands entirely. 'I want it, but wanting it is wrong. Only when stripped of the choice entirely is there true freedom to desire.'

And obviously, she passed it along to him, but the discussion not having happened in full means that now it's up to you to take matters of consent into your own hands.

But slowly raising from his slightly folded position, Doyoung brings his bowl to the sink, rinsing it out, and coming back to you in silence. The discomfort is poignant, so, now you have to ask.

"Color?" You slowly drop from dry lips, and without breaking his suffocating gaze on you, he whispers back pointedly "yellow."

The word exits his mouth quietly, smoothly, as if really trying to drive home to you how much this is not the way these things are supposed to work: Truth of the matter is that you know that, and this should have been discussed at length long before tonight — but you trust him to be able to make the adjustments, and worst case, to stop if you should need him to.

You're hopeful that he trusts you to do all of the same.

Then, he parts his lips to speak again. "—But, green."

It's his way of letting you know that you've gone about this all wrong, but all things considered, he's willing to roll with the punches, anyway. Jutting towards you, Doyoung wraps long fingers around your wrist, ripping you off of the stool and nearly knocking it to the floor as a result; tearing the apron from his waist as he roughly tugs you out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs and swings you around to press your back against the shining, platinum railing of the banister in the hallway.

"Why did you wear jeans?" He grunts as he drops to his knees in front of you, quickly pulling apart the button and zipper to roughly drag the tight fabric down your legs.

Frankly, you didn't know that you'd be doing this tonight.

Stepping out of them and shoved down the hallway to be sufficiently out of the way, the man hoists one of your legs up and over his shoulder — one hand digging fingers into the side of the crotch of your panties to grant him quick access to your already anticipatory pussy.

However, him being eye level with your cunt not particularly how you had expected this to go — ever, really.

Looking up at you from between your legs and through devilishly narrow eyes, the man makes one, simple, request: "Tell me about the dream."

Diving into your folds as his tongue presses flat and firm against your clit — the sudden feeling of him having you like this making you dizzy with want, you find yourself entirely unsure how you're expected to recount much of anything to him like this — and especially once he begins unrelenting suction to you that threatens to make you cum almost immediately.

Attempting to bite back your moan, and instead opting for a breathy 'fuck,'  you know well enough that if you don't adhere to the command, he'll most definitely stop.

"Y-you—" there's an attempt to speak at least, until two long, thin fingers bury into you to the last knuckles.

Pulling his mouth away from you and licking at his lips lewdly, he cocks his head to the side playfully. "Better start talking or I'll stop."

"God, okay," you exasperate as he dives back in. "Was...against the wall, you fucked me against the wall — we weren't—"

"Allowed?" He pauses again only long enough to finish your thought with a grin. Nodding quickly, Doyoung still slowly fucking into you with his fingers as he watches you fall apart from above him, he coos at the look and sound of you — perhaps finally coming to an understanding of what all of this is about.

"Good girl," he hums gently, lips brushing against your wet folds without much intent behind the contact. "Can you do me another favor?"

Breathy and already a little fucked out, you whisper out a "yes."

"Come on my mouth."

Leaning up and into you again, tongue firm into your clit with tight, intensive swirls — it doesn't take long for you to follow through as one hand falls down and wraps into his hair — holding him firm in place as you involuntarily grind down against his mouth as you come blindingly hard onto him. Long since needed and the orgasm from the night in the kitchen hardly offering the release you had been looking for — Doyoung lending his face to you in such a lewd, particularly out of character act of a blending of roles — as you come down slowly from your high, you watch the man pull away and out of you with a gentle ease, sucking his fingers clean of you before wiping his face with the back of his hand and standing tall in front of you.

 "Want to fuck your best friends husband, but don't want to be responsible for the repercussions of it, huh?"

 You just came, but the promise of getting exactly the fantasy that you wish for out of this throbbing between your legs pooling just as if you hadn't.

You don't even get to answer before the same, dominant hand is wrapped up in the hair at the back of your head and pushing you down the hallway, towards the bedroom.

Stumbling inside as he roughly pulls you around, once the both of you reach the edge of the bed, Doyoung sits you down just in front of him — not letting you free of his grasp, but instead with his other hand, freeing his growing erection from his pants and pulling your mouth against him harshly.

Of course, you take him in with ease.

"You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth like this," he groans from above you, eyes glued to the place where he disappears inside of you. "Always knew you wanted me, that's why you always act like that, just need me to put you in your place, don't you?"

Moaning at the words and around his dick as he shallowly presses inside of your wet mouth, speed slowly picking up with each passing moment as he continues to talk you through it. "What are we going to do if my wife finds out? Suppose we just can't let that happen, can we?"

You hate the way the thought has you clenching down hard.

"That's why you're over here so much, isn't it?" Doyoung asks through gritted teeth as he continues fucking into your mouth, gently prodding at the back of your throat with each thrust. "Just begging for me to fuck your mouth? You love my cock, don't you?"

Pulling his length from you only long enough for you to answer back and breathy 'yes,' he sheaths himself inside all over again

Only a few more thrusts before grunting, Doyoung pulling himself from your mouth to fist over his cock and lined up with your face — you display your mouth open with tongue flat as he comes over your flesh again — warm, heavy ropes of himself painting your face and mouth before quickly angling your head down again to place his length between your lips for you to suck him clean, as well.

Holding your head back again and bringing his other hand up, thumb spreading the wetness of the act across your lips, chin and cheeks before shoveling most of it into your mouth as your lips close around his thumb to suck the digit clean just as you have with his cock — groaning into the look and sensation of it, Doyoung gently taps the inside of his fingers against your jaw, signaling for you to open your mouth all over again as he shoves two fingers in to swirl around the mixture of cum and spit collected there.

Slipping back and away from you, the command comes through simply. "Swallow."

You do so without question.

Wiping your mouth with your shoulder and taking in a heavy breath, you sigh out while looking up at him. "We can't ever let her find out about this?"

But glancing down at you with the most evil look in his eye, you watch as a single corner of his mouth gently pulls up,

 "You think I'm done with you?"

 It sends a tingle down your spine and straight to your pussy, Doyoung suddenly reaching forward to turn you around and bent over the bed as he pulls your soiled panties roughly to the side with a tear. Rubbing the head of his cock through your soaking slit and against your still sensitive clit, you grip hard into the sheets beneath you, attempting to pull away from him but to no avail as he grips fingers roughly into your hips to keep you precisely in place and displayed before him.

"Think you can take it all, baby?" He sighs, leisurely stroking himself back to full hardness as his tip slowly begins to split your pussy open from behind. "Can you be a good girl for me, take the whole thing?"

Whimpering against the mattress at the desperate, delicious burn of his cock finally entering you after so long — what feels like a lifetime of desiring having him buried inside of your walls, finally being granted to you with slow, almost delirious ease as he sinks into you from the back, you answer him honestly. "N-no."

"I don't think so, either," he responds with a comfortable ease as he continues with his initial stroke. "But you're going to try, aren't you? Not used to taking such a big dick?"

"No, fuck, Doyoung—"

"God you want this so bad, already so fucked out on my dick and I'm not even inside all of the way," gently pulling his hips back only to rock back inside, even such a simple movement granting him a cry out from between your dry lips. Leaning forward and over your back to plant a hand down between your shoulders and holding you in place, Doyoung repeats the action again to elicit the same response from you all over again.

"Oh, you love a big cock," he grits out through his teeth as he finally settles into a rhythmic pace against your behind. "You love my cock. Say you didn't want to do this, didn't want to go through with this, but I don't think that's true at all, is it?"

Pulling out far enough for only the tip of him to remain inside of you before drilling back hard into your cunt, you nearly cry at the unrelenting pressure of him against your walls, and in particular, against your g-spot. Thighs trembling and stomach tightening with every full, hard drive of himself into you, it's an attempt to form a full thought but instead, the words come out as only babbled sobs as he drives hard and firm into you.

"Do-Doyoung, fuck, 'm gonna, 'm—p-please, please, fuck—"

"You gonna come, baby?" The question comes through with hastened, airy breaths as if close himself. "Come around my dick for me? Wanna earn my cum?"

Nodding fast against the mattress, he grunts into a particularly hard thrust against you. "Make your lil cunt so messy."

Pulling himself back up into a straighter, standing position at the edge of the bed, fingers firmly dug into the flesh of your waist as he pulls you back hard onto his cock — the sudden angle change toppling you over into your orgasm unexpectedly as you cry out for him and curl your own nails into the sheets beneath you as your release rips through your body — simultaneously, Doyoung falling victim to the way your pussy clenches down around his length, fucking you roughly through your orgasm as he reaches his own with bit back, throaty moan at the way your cunt nearly milks his cum from him with little movement and so much ease — burying himself so deep into your guts that it threatens to hurt and whining at the near pain of having him so fully inside of you as he coats your walls.

Chests rising and falling, Doyoung pulls from you and falling next to you, it's much to your surprise when familiar hands tug you to the side and seated over his hips.

 "Split yourself open on my cock and come again."

 The words themselves nearly enough to do you in, but with the unrelenting throb of your untouched clit impossible to ignore, you follow the command as you position your hips over his impressively hard length and wasting no time burying him inside of your messy, cummed-in cunt all over again.

Leaning back ever so slightly and quickly rubbing circles into your clit for his viewing pleasure as he pulls the sweatshirt still clinging to his chest up to expose more skin of his abs and chest — reaching your free hand down, you touch over the skin there, feeling more of him and the way his abs reach to not only your touch, but the visual just in front of him.

"Fuck," you whimper, already feeling the threat of another orgasm building as your walls squeeze tightly around his seated shaft. "Fuck, Doie—"

The pet name.

"God, don't call me that, I'll come in your little pussy all over again," he nearly whines through an exhausted chuckle. It's a sort of endearing, almost break in character that you're not used to seeing from the man.

"Come on baby, be a good girl and come for me," he starts again with a fucked out whisper as he watches you twist circles into your pussy just above where his length disappears inside of you. "Show me just how bad you wanted me inside of you."

Toes curling and teeth gritting as it washes over you all over again — a nearly silent scream of an orgasm as your mouth hangs open through your release — a similar, quiet groan from the man beneath you as he watches and feels you come on him for the third time tonight.

 He takes his jobs very seriously.

 Giving you a moment to calm before heaving you off of him and standing in front of you again, as you sit up to meet his dick with your lips just as before, you can't help but be seriously impressed by his ability to maintain an erection.

You're beginning to understand why Mina married him, after all.

"Clean me up," he commands, hand gently weaved into the back of your head in such a familiar way. "Enjoy it while you can, it's the last time you'll get to taste me."

True as it is, you find yourself surprisingly somber at the thought of this being the end of the arrangement, as agreed upon. Far from an emotional connection, but rather, a mental one — a mutual understanding between physical lovers. The trust, the communication, and safety inherent in this particular pairing of people.

Plus, his cock is perfect and he fucks like a pornstar.

Licking up the length of his shaft, truly savoring the taste of his cum and your own mixed along it before taking him deep into your mouth and bobbing slowly, carefully, full of intent along his cock — partially for the show of it, and partially because yes, it's the last time, and you'll miss this more than you might have thought you would going in.

"You're amazing," Doyoung sighs, gently pulling his length from between your lips and folding over just enough to be only a few centimeters off from your own face with his. "Open."

Obeying the command and jaw falling slack, the man allowing the collection of saliva from his mouth to drip lewdly into your own — missing direction ever so slightly and catching partially at the corner of your mouth — Doyoung brings a hand up to thumb at the messy corner before finally closing the distance between both of your mouths and pulling you into a full, intense, passionate kiss — tongue immediately pushing forward to lick at the inside of your mouth — it's breathtaking and intimate in a way that nothing else thus far has been.

And pulling away with a single, thin, string of saliva connecting the two of you by mouth yet, Doyoung's lips curl into a sinister grin as his eyes pull from your own, to your lips, then back up to meet your vision again.

 "Happy to help."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—part 2!

[starrdevereauxx]

I said last time would be the last time.

Brandon broke up with me 6 months ago. I’ve been a wreck for weeks on end. I promised myself to get over it, but it’s been such a hard thing to process. We would always fight, make up, make love and act like nothing ever happened. He was gone this time. This was the longest we ever been apart.

I try to find things to do to pass the time, but nothing ever seems to take my mind off him. I still smell him, breathe him, and feel him through my body. Our mutual friends always give messages about him, but I’ve been ignoring them lately. My heart can’t take listening to his name, let alone hearing of any accomplishments.

I need to run my errands today, but like everyday I become sad running them alone. We did everything together, after 6 years I can’t believe that we don’t do this anymore.

Heading to the grocery store I become sad with my list of groceries for one instead of two. I hop in my car and turn on “our” playlist. Hoping I can borrow a feeling from any song that plays. Another slow song begins to play and I’m seeing myself in the mirror. Envisioning him touching me, wishing my hands were his. Rubbing the side of my face, choking me ever so lightly. I literally just felt my pussy drip at this light.

“Get it together Dev” I say trying to convince myself that I’m over him. Knowing damn well I’m not. I can feel him inside my pussy when I think about him. The feeling intensifies with every breath I take.

I gather myself to go inside of the store, with my lonely list of single items. Looking at the list I just remember every single meal I ever made for him. Pouring my heart into each meal, now I can only make food for myself. I sob gathering myself for this lonely trip.

I walk through the store, gathering each item reluctantly. Wishing we were laughing together, talking about what we gonna pretend to watch on Netflix when we got back home. Saying pretend because it we wouldn’t make it pass the opening credits without his chocolate snicker veined dick engorged in my throat. He would be gagging me before we knew the name of the movie.

After looking at my cart, I figured I deserved a treat. I tried to maintain a healthy cart since I’m single, I need to stay in shape. The most physical activity I get is the gym these days, so I had to maintain some resemblance of care in my food intake. But with all the crying that I’ve been doing, today I deserve a treat. I decided to head back to the ice cream isle and help myself to something to lift my spirits.

As I walk to the back of the store with my headphones on, I’m letting Chris Brown sing me to a happy place. I almost begin to get a spring in my step as he’s talking about fucking someone back to sleep.

I make it to the ice cream section and I immediately look for Ben & Jerry’s tasty ass. I see it, straight ahead “Chunky Monkey”. I move my cart out of the way to reach for it. As I get ready to reach for the pint, I feel some thing grab me, startled I think I’m in trouble for climbing inside the refrigerator. Moving my headphones so I can hear, a deep, smoldering voice says

“that’s still your favorite ice cream I see, even though I also remember that your monkey was the only chunky I ever wanted”.

I’m fucking stuck. There’s only one voice I know that sounds like that, and my pussy dripping is letting me know exactly who it is.

“Brandon, oh wow. It’s crazy seeing you here. How are you?” I gulp nervously.

“You look good Dev, time has been good to you. But then again when has it not?” Brandon says as he looks at me like he’s about to take my throat from me right here in this store.

As I prepare to answer him, someone loudly over talks me.

“Babe, BABE.. do you want movie popcorn or kettle corn?” I turn to see a bubbly perky breasted young lady yelling to her significant other about popcorn. I turned back around to see if I see him, just for my heart to sink as I realize that there’s nobody here but me and Brandon here. She’s talking to him. Oh my God, he has a girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I was just trying to get a hold of my fiancé, I didn’t mean to bump you, my apologies” she smiles.

“Kettle Corn baby, thank you” he replies.

She skips off to honor his request. I stand there putting my broken heart back in my chest, not making it obvious that I’m literally breaking apart inside. FIANCÉ!?!? What in the fuck is this? After 6 years together, he never asked me to marry him. I’m even more convinced that it was never going to be me.

“Well congratulations to you and your fiancé, you deserve happiness. Be well Brandon.” I say tearfully as I run off, forgetting my ice cream. At this point I just want to disappear.

I get to the register, pay for my items and hurry to my car.

It was a long walk to my car. I always parked far from stores because I loved to get my steps in. Every step counts to me. So I had enough time to cry myself to the car and be over it by the time I started my car.

I open my trunk and back seat to place my purse down as I organize my groceries in the back, just incase if I needed room for a surprise bullseye store trip. I think after that encounter, I deserve some retail therapy now.

As I near the finish of my organization, I feel someone tap me from behind and say “I thought we discussed you parking way the hell back here. Nobody can see you back here.” Brandon says with what looks like chunky monkey ice cream in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing back here? Where’s your fiancé? Why are you here? I-“ he stops me mid sentence, placing the ice cream in my hand.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about Keisha. You didn’t deserve to find out like this” he says looking at me sincerely.

“You don’t owe me anything, we are over. It’s your life. We have both clearly moved on.” I say proudly, pretending that I don’t feel like bending over right now and letting him turn me into a Twinkie.

He stares at me in my eyes with a look I haven’t seen in so long, but I remember well. I break contact and go back to packing my car so I can leave this awkward encounter.

He grabs my arm forcefully, making me drop my car keys in the backseat. Turning me towards him, forcing me to look at him. I begin to tear away in anger because I’m loosing control to my body.

“Get the fuck off me Brandon, what in the hell is your problem. Let me the fuck go.”

I try to break free from his grip. I feel his dick literally growing with anticipation the more I fight.

He stops me and looks me in my eyes. He’s subdued me with his piercing glare. He presses up against me, placing his hands on my body. One softly but firmly on my neck and the other on my left breast, lightly massaging it and grazing the nipple ever so softly. My breathing becomes shallow and scattered. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Isn’t his fiancé near by or in the car wondering where he is. I’m sure she’s looking for him. In this moment, I don’t think either one of us cares. My pussy is wet and gushing between my panties that I know is drenched at this point.

“I know you feel what I feel for you. I haven’t had a day go by that I haven’t thought about you Dev. We broke up, but never really let go. If you tell me to let you go right now, I’ll stop and walk away forever. You want me to stop?” He says while looking me in my dough eyes. I have no voice to even reply. My red lips are pursed and parted from the small breaths I continue to take. I shake my head no while staring him completely in his eyes.

He leans onto me, kissing me softly, hand still wrapped around my neck. He kisses my lips softly and becomes more aggressive every time he touches his lips to mine. He parts my lips to slide his tongue inside my mouth, I close my mouth to proceed to suck his tongue. Feeling now that his dick is rock hard.

“Show me that you still love me” he says as I’m already unbuckling his jeans. I drop to my knees and open my mouth. Giving him my entire throat to use as he pleases. Forcing my head on and off his dick, using my mouth as his personal pocket pussy. Grabbing both sides of my face, moaning loudly in this parking structure like we are outside alone. He literally has no fear of being caught in this moment. Brandon’s dick is so deep down my throat that he’s breathing for the both of us.

I feel his precum slip pass my lips. He stops. He pulls me off my knees and stands me up, just to pull down my leggings, revealing my cummed in panties. He begins to take his dick to rub my clit while I stand there defenseless.

Brandon forcefully turns me around, placing me in position. I automatically arch the posture of my back, taking my hands to spread my giant ass to show my wet dripping pussy that’s salivating for his erection to be inside me.

“Such a good girl, still obedient like I remember. Tell me what you want” he orders me.

“Fuck me hard please. Take my pussy from me” I say patiently waiting for him to beat my pussy like an Undertaker versus Mankind cage match.

He forces his dick inside my tight wet pussy, moaning hard as he enters. I grip him hard with my pussy as he’s thrusting aggressively in and out of me.

He’s pulsating inside of me as he’s moving. I’m feeling every inch of him as he’s continuing to grow inside of me. Just moving back and forth, harder and harder. I’m moaning so loud and hard, tears in my eyes from how good it feels to have his dick inside me. Holding my breasts as he’s making me take his dick roughly outside where everyone can see.

“Oh my God Dev, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m about to cum. Do you want it in your favorite place?” He says as I scream out “Yes” in reply.

I fall to my knees like a sinner who needs prayer, open my mouth to the heavens and wait for him to bless me. He releases an outpouring of his creaminess all over my face and mouth, as I devour every drop that hits my throat.

He moans as he shakes out every drop til he’s empty. I swallow the rest of him and what’s left of my pride as he kisses me in completion. My pants still around my ankles, he grips my ass holding me in place as he continues to kiss me softly.

I buckle his pants as he helps me with mine. I brush my hand across his face and we embrace each other knowing that he has to go.

“Goodbye Brandon.” I kiss him on the cheek. He walks away silently. Staring back a few times before he’s out of my view.

I said last time would be the last time.

Happy Monday 💋

[ofallthingsnasty]

There's always those stories of Fae would have a fuck ton of kids with humans and I can't help but think it's a breeding kink. Like maybe fae pregnancies are really long, especially in comparison to human pregnancies (9 months is nothing to a fae) so when Fae realize that they just can't stop themselves from grabbing the first pretty fertile human they see.

Just imagine it; being some pretty young girl who happened to catch the attention of a fae and getting whisked away to be treated like a prized broodmare, constantly being breed. If your fae gets really attached they might just use their magic to keep you young and fertile forever.

I need to brush up on faeries 1000% because I did not grow up with them and did NOT know that lol. How... curious... 👀👀 I am very intrigued ehe

tw.yandere, noncon, pregnancy, minors dni, as always my shitty version of being kidnapped by ... something not human

You know, right now I'd walk straight into any otherworldly little trap, so let's follow that thought for a bit. You're stressed, you feel like you're absolutely drowning in responsibilities, work, a million deadlines - so, so sleep-deprived and mentally exhausted that your judgment softens, your senses dull, your mind grows hazy. And while it will pass (all things eventually pass, don’t they?) and you’ll be fine some weeks, months from now on - the way through it all is grueling and hard, mundane and repititive. Wouldn’t you be fortunate to catch the eye of someone out there? Someone, something who thinks you’re quite charming; soft and human and almost clumsy in the way you putter about and oh, you’re so weak. Some beautiful stranger who whisks you away, to somewhere so odd you think you’re dreaming at first. It’s so surreal, you have to be asleep, right? And how harrowing it has to be to wake up for the first time, realizing that you made a stupid mistake some weeks ago, something you can’t even quite remember. Maybe the stranger caught you sometime during the dawn when you were half asleep- maybe they got you when you wandered too far into the forest on one of your nightly walks- it doesn’t matter, really, does it? Your head feels as sticky as cotton candy and heavier than a brick, and they keep you in a bed of soft linen and way too many pillows, and fuck you so full you can’t make out left from right- You can’t fight against them, and your rational thought is merely scratching at the door to your consciousness - but that underlying dread mixed with too-sweet dreams and kisses has to be terrible. Every passing day turns sweet to sour and when your stomach swells you finally manage to break away from the spell, if only to vomit out the food the stranger has stuffed you with... I feel like they’d basically keep you drugged and pliant for all eternity- with you just being able to feel that foreboding sense of ‘something is fundamentally wrong’ but not able to formulate a single clear thought. Any time you manage to free yourself from their influence, you’re immediately pulled back into it; and the memory erased. I can see them not even really talking to you - you’re like a sweet little pet to them, stupid and only there for what you can provide for them. Kept happy and dumb and pregnant, doomed to be a drooling broodmare...

[keravnous]

treat me like a s!ut ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 4 here

Tangerine comes home to you scrubbing the blood out of one of his button-downs in the bathtub. He always had a thing for seeing his favourite plaything on its knees.

word count: 9,5 k

warnings: spanking, fingering, oral (male receiving), cumshot, toys, bimbofication, housewife kink (that a thing??), mean/strict dom!tangerine (but he's actually a big softie), negotiated objectification, uh face slapping - once or twice, daddy kink, pet names, spit kink, size kink, name calling, multiple orgasms, edging, (heavy) squirting; this man is into some nasty shit - convince me otherwise, my feminism left my fucking body alright, the angry man™ makes my knees go weak

i listened to kim petras' slut pop ep and listen, it-, I-, so -, yeah. Lost control, I guess. I also saw the pictures of atj in a million little pieces and that didnt help much

thank you mel for encouraging me and thank you v for enduring me while writing this

You barely hear the door of the town house falling shut over the splashing of the water.

You are currently kneeling - very much to the protest of your upper back, which has been causing all sorts of pain during work at the office today - over the tub in your spacious bathroom, water still running into the already half-full, half-bloody bathtub. Your arms are wet up to your elbow from trying to scrub out some nasty and very resistant bloodstains out of one of Tangerine's shirts.

He had been in a nasty pub brawl after last week's West Ham victory and, knowing it was one of his favourite shirts, you had tried your best to get it clean. But even two rounds in the washing machine didn't do much. Thus, you decided to give it a good old handwash.

"Love?", you hear a familiar voice calling out and you huff with exhaustion, sinking back onto the heels of your feet.

"Yeah, I'm in the bathroom!", you answer and a moment later he appears in the opened door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

"What're ya doin' there?", Tangerine furrows his brows. He is wearing one of his suits, hair still neatly combed back like he hasn't been out for 8 hours, doing God knows what.

"Hand washing this shirt of yours, stains won't go out in the machine", you pull the fabric out of the tub, water slushing down. There's little improvement. You decide to rub a little harder.

Tangerine says nothing - just watches you, dressed in nothing but a big shirt and what he assumes are panties hiding underneath its hem; watches the way it scoots up every now and then when you scrub with more force, confirming his suspicions. It is a tiny light blue string made from fine lace, one, that he had bought for you a while ago.

He swallows, feeling himself growing hard in his slacks. It is not just the sight of you - even more so it's you doing this for him. Cleaning something up, that he had messed up.

Actually, he's thankful that you are going out of your way to clean up his clothes. He knows that it is a hell of a job to get blood out of any sort of fabric and he feels guilty for somehow putting you through it, especially since it is painfully obvious where the stains come from.

He knows it was your decision to stay - to stay with him - to keep up with the life he leads, and the job that brings in the tons of money keeping you afloat comfortably.

Still, he feels like making it up to you. There is something about you kneeling there, doing chores, that remembers him of something you had said to him a while ago. Something that now has his blood pumping, making him feel like he's about to burst.

"Darlin'?"

"Yes?", you say, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead, a few drops of water running down your cheek.

"Get up, love."

You look up, eyes furrowing with confusion. "Why? I am nearly done with -"

"Wanna properly say Hello to my little housewife, me", there is a mischievous gleam in his eyes and it has your heartbeat picking up immediately.

You know what that means. You have been speaking about this: the idea of him coming home after a long, maybe even dangerous day and just taking you, bending you over the nearest surface because it pleased him - that the thought of him treating you like nothing more but an obedient housewife, cleaning up, keeping everything tidy and clean for him, and taking his cock whenever he pleased, made you wet. That the thought of being nothing more than a stupid little hole to him excited you.

The first time this particular thing had come up, had been after Tangerine returned home late after a delayed flight. You'd been up still, cooking him dinner. What was intended as nothing but a sweet gesture of adoration - knowing that he'll be both hungry and exhausted - turned into something else, after he had grabbed your hips from behind and bent you over the countertop for a quick fuck. It made something in your brain click, a new desire taking over your fantasies.

Now, you swallow, his shirt slowly sinking back into the soapy water - with its swirls of dried and darkened blood of some poor soul who was unlucky enough to meet your man on a particularly violentday - as you get up.

"You don't have to, you had a long day", you say softly.

"It's fine, lemme do this for ya", grabbing the nearest towel you dry off your arms and hands before coming closer to him. He stretches one hand out.

"C'mere", Tangerine smiles, all bright teeth and lines around his eyes and you do - taking his hand and then he pulls you against his firm chest, your hands resting on his shoulders. You inhale deeply, taking in his scent - wood, vanilla, orange - that wraps you in like a heavy blanket and you sigh.

"Don't burn yourself out over this fuckin' shirt, dove", he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapping around you, one hand confidently grabbing your ass cheek.

"I wasn't", your nose brushes over his throat, lips peppering gentle kisses to the soft skin. His hand firmly brushes over your tense shoulders, feeling the hardened tendons and both of you know that you are lying.

"Relax, love", he whispers, lips ghosting over your ear, "Let Daddy take care of ya."

And your body obeys to him as quickly as it always does: sinks against him, muscles going a little slack. You allow yourself to surrender to him fully, body going limp and mind going blank as you hand control over to him.

Tangerine's hand brushes through your hair, cups the back of your scalp and gives you a few gentle, patronizing strokes while one of his strong arms wraps around your waist, keeps you pressed against him upright.

"Y'good, love?", he says quietly and you release a satisfied hum.

"Words, poppet, be a good girl."

"Yeah -- yeah, I'm alright, keep going", you whisper against his chest, "Please."

The hand stroking your scalp vanishes, fingers brushing over your cheek and cupping your chin until it is lifting your head up. Your eyes meet his.

"So, what did I say?", Tangerine says sternly, gaze boring into yours.

You swallow, breath hitching a little and your chest heaves with it. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, your tummy tingling with want. The hand on your cheek is warm, the cold tingle of his rings on your skin grounding you.

"What did I say?”, he says again, squinting at you. It makes your knees buckle.

"N-never scrub without a brush", you whisper, lust making you choke on your words.

"Mhm, exactly", he hums, nods, "Then, why didn't ya do it?"

"Because --", you suck in air through parted lips, thighs rubbing together, eyelids fluttering, "Because I am stupid, stupid girl."

"That you are, m'little airhead", he says softly, voice growing deep, "And what do stupid little girls get?"

"Punished", you whisper, eyes glowing with excitement and stomach tingling with it just the same. You know, that he is not really mad and it sure does feel like a lot like it, making you bite your lower lip.

Tangerine nods again, thumb caressing your cheek. "Get on the bed, get naked - ya can still do that for me, can ya, silly? Or did ya little brain already leave your pretty head, there?"

You shake your head, fingers clinging into the expensive jacket of his suit as you stand up straight again, mind already a little hazy.

"Good", Tangerine nods slowly, eyes darting down to where your bodies meet. His hand leaves your cheek and you whine but it crawls down, one long finger hooking in the collar of your shirt and pulling it down. He tilts his head a little, as he's looking at your cleavage, tits pressed up nicely by his chest. You're not wearing a bra and he smiles - cold and cruel. "Get going, love, I wanna see what's mine."

You nod, swaying a little on your feet as you take a step back, arousal pooling in your abdomen. "Don't take too long", he says, gives your ass a lazy slap as you walk past him.

You do as you're told, carelessly dropping your shirt and panties on the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, before climbing onto the soft mattress. Splaying out on your stomach with your feet dangling in the air you wait for him until he finally, finally enters the bedroom. He is still wearing his suit, only dropped his jacket, and is carrying a small pink bag. You know what's inside, stomach tingling at the thought.

Tangerine tosses it onto the bed and sits down next to you, hooks his slender index finger beneath your chin, guiding your head up. His thumb brushes over your lower lip and your jaw goes slack, tongue darting out and rubbing over it. He grins and pushes the digit in, has you obediently closing your lips around it, sucking on his thumb.

His other hand wanders up to his tie, loosens it and then carelessly drops it to the floor, pops open a few buttons of his shirt.

"Stupid lil' thing, hm", he hums, "Sucking on my thumb like it's my cock? That needy already?"

You nod nod nod, blinking up at him and his other hand cups your chin, keeps your head in place. Your tongue rubs over the pad of his thumb and Tangerine licks his lips, eye twitching a little. "Listen here", he bows down a little, voice nothing but a growl, "Ya gonna take what Daddy gives ya, y'hear me? If I wanna see your little cunt cum ten times, then that's what we're gonna do, 'lright?"

You nod around his thumb, excitement fluttering in your tummy but he just tsks at you. "Thought so -", pulling his thumb from your mouth he pats his thigh, "Time for your punishment, love. Only good girls get rewarded, don't they?"

"I wanna be a good girl", you whisper, as Tangerine deliberately and carefully rolls his sleeves up. Eagerly you crawl over his lap and then sink down, upper body on the mattress, hips on his thighs with your ass in the air. You can feel his already rock-hard dick pressing into your stomach and your whole body tingles with lust at the sensation.

"You wanna be a good girl?", Tangerine says, mocking your tone, as one large ringed hand grabs your ass, kneads the flesh, "D'you know what good girls do?"

Biting your lip you shake your head, looking at him over your shoulder, through your lashes. "They don't fuck up simple tasks."

"'M sorry, Daddy", you say cutely and he fucking growls at that, a dark shadow dancing over his blue eyes, turning them navy - into a stormy sea. Tangerine's hand rubs over your ass, the other presses down between your shoulder blades. The stretch in your back is delicious, and the way it presses one side of your face into the mattress has your head swimming, eyelids fluttering. "Legs together, dove", and you obey, pressing your thighs together, "There ya go. What d'ya think? Fifteen?"

You mewl, feet kicking with excitement, wetness pooling between your legs. "Want you to say it", Tangerine's hand plays with your ass, grabs one cheek and spreads it apart, thumb digging into the flesh and kneading it, "Go ahead and tell Daddy you want him to hit ya."

"Uuh", you mumble dumbly, heart racing and pussy already wet, and he scoffs at that meanly, "Wanna - Daddy, please - want you to hit me!"

"For?"

"F-for being a stupid girl."

"Atta girl", his hand gently strokes your ass cheek, "You'll get fifteen - no whinin', no yappin'."

"Y-yes", you nod, biting your lip in anticipation, readying yourself for the first hit. And he wastes no time, gives your ass a light squeeze and then his ringed hand comes down, hits your right cheek with a loud smack. You gasp, eyes falling shut as you feel the tingling burn spreading through your backside.

The second and third hit follow, making you moaning quietly - warmth spreading on your skin, the slight burn tingling.

Tangerine watches your skin slowly turning into a soft pink and grabs a handful, thumb brushing over the forming bruise. He hums quietly to himself, hand wandering down, caressing your inner thigh - his rings are cold, bracelet rustling, and shivers run down your spine.

He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, hand wandering dangerously high and you hum, but it vanishes before being close enough to your cunt. The other hand on your back adds a little more pressure, and you gasp at the stretch.

"Such a pretty girl", he hums, bounces you on his legs a little, "What a shame you're so silly."

You whimper, hands aimlessly darting over the sheets. You want him to hit you again, with your ass already feeling a little sore and the way the slight pain runs straight to your core, makes your pussy so so wet.

"Can't even clean a fuckin' shirt", he tsks just as his hand comes down once more, two quick blows on your left and right cheek, has your ass jiggling with the force of it. He watches it, then grabs a handful and feels you up.

His thumb digs into the flesh close to your crack as he toys with your ass, and you can feel the way it spreads your folds apart. Your pussy is desperate for any sort of friction and you gasp as your clit throbs, rubbing your thighs together.

"Uuh-huh", is all that leaves your mouth dumbly, with his hard cock pressing against your stomach, hot and twitching through his slacks. It's hard to think, to form a coherent thought - all that's on your mind is his thick cock. "Daddy--", you gasp, rutting your hips down on his thigh, fresh wetness running down your legs and onto his trousers.

"Stop - fuckin' - movin'", each word lands another blow and you cry out, trying your best not to move on his lap, but the sharp pain has your hips jolting upward, shoots riiight into your cunt, hole clenching.

"Oh, you're really enjoying this, aren't ya, poppet?", Tangerine scoffs as you moan, your legs falling apart a little, "I can smell how wet you are, darlin'. Lemme see."

Your fingers claw into the sheets, wanting nothing more but the smallest touch. His large hand brushes over your ass, rings cold on your hot and reddening skin and then it dips between your cheeks, brushes down your crack and between your thighs.

"Fuckin' hell", he whispers as his index finger runs through your folds. He wasn't wrong - you are incredibly wet, thick watery slick makes his finger slip over your pussy smoothly as he assesses your arousal. Easily, he slips one ringed finger into you, bottoms it out. Your cunt clenches around it and he marvels at how tight you are, a trembling moan leaving your lips. It's not enough, you want him to fuck you - hard and fast - but it has your chest fluttering nonetheless.

The finger retreats as quickly as it entered you, circles your hole and thehand on your back crawls down, gives your left cheek a light pat that has you squirming.

"Nothing but a set of pretty holes f'me, aren't ya, love?", and you mewl, feet kicking a little as his fingers continue to run through your folds, his other hand now landing another blow on your ass. It stings nicely and you moan, desperately trying to roll your hips onto the finger rubbing lazy circles over your clit.

"D'ya want Daddy to put it back inside?", and you nod nod nod, but he just laughs.

"Words, silly, good girls use their words, don'they?", and you inhale a shaky breath, before lifting your head a little, looking over your shoulder.

Tangerine looks at you, one brow smugly cocked, and it's only the slight flush of his chest visible underneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt that betrays him. That, and his hard dick pressing against your stomach.

It makes your head swim, blinking up at him dumbly, lips falling agape a little. "Uhh", you breathe, "P-please--"

Tangerine lands another blow on your ass and you gasp loudly, followed by a desperate noise leaving your throat. "Words, slut."

You look up at him with big, watery eyes. "P-please", you say, voice shaking a little, "Finger m-me."

"There ya go", he says softly, finger abandoning your clit and pressing into your hole a moment later. He slips it in with ease, buries it deep inside of you and immediately starts to thrust it in and out.

"Yeah, wan'me to use you, eh love?", he fucks into you fast and deep, squelching sounds filling the air, "Want Daddy to stuff your pretty little hole, don't ya?"

"Y-yes", you plead, feeling his finger brushing over your walls, his golden ring against your hole. You can hear him hum and then his hand comes down for two more hits on your ass, has you clenching around his finger, moaning against the sheets.

Tangerine wastes no time, adds a second finger, stretches your tight hole out with the way he pushes them in, cold rings slipping in a little.

The sensation nearly has you going insane on the spot, rutting back on his fingers which earns you nothing more but another blow on your right cheek. "Keep on movin' and I tie you to a fuckin' chair for the rest of the day, whore", and you moan, hips stuttering and he pushes a third finger in.

Obscene squelching sounds of your hole being fucked and filled, of your slick wetting his fingers, emerge between your legs and you gasp as his digits brush over your favourite spot. Your loins ignite with it and your abdomen clenches, cunt squirting against the palm of his hand.

"Please, p-please - oh - fuck, fuck", you brabble, eyes tearing up and he tsks, shakes his head.

"Ah ah ah c'mon, words, love. Don't ya curse - you're too pretty to curse like Daddy always does, aren't ya? M'pretty lil' thing, eh?"

His hand comes down on your ass hard, has you gasping loudly, wincing in pain while his fingers continue to fuck you.

"One more, baby", and your hips buck, "Can my slut take one more?"

Tangerine's hand caresses your reddening ass, where a bruise in the form of his hand forms, an angry red and dark red where his rings hit your skin. His bracelet rustles and he grabs a handful, jiggles your left cheek. "Y-yes", you moan, his fingers rubbing your walls, making your legs tremble.

"Ready up", he says and you can hear him grin. Still, nothing can prepare you for how hard his hand comes down and how loud the blow echoes off the bedroom's walls, how the pain shoots through your ass and right between your legs, has you crying out with both: pain and pleasure.

Your walls contract around him as your lower belly contracts, squeezes his fingers and he knows what's about to happen, knows your body like his own.

"Don't you fuckin' cum, now", he says sternly, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, pushing your slick in and out in and out, and then in once more, as he nestles his fingers deeply in your tight and hot cunt halting any movement, "Be a good girl and hold it fo' Daddy."

Your muscles clench and your thighs contract, as you're giving your best to hold back your release, chest heaving as you moan into the mattress.

Tangerine leans down a little, his other hand wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Don't" - he whispers, the fingers inside of you start moving again, their pads very very slowly rubbing along your walls - "You" - his tongue darts out, licks over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling a little, "Cum now."

Your chest heaves with every ragged breath that you suck in, hips trembling and cunt squirting against his fingers, lust pulsating wildly through your loins and making your head swim as you are trying your best to just not cum. Tangerine chuckles lowly, gaze wandering over your body, taking in the way your legs tremble and feet kick - he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers and he really, really wants to get you on all fours and just bury his cock inside of you, fucking you senseless until you're a brabbling, drooling mess. His dick is so fucking hard, pressing against his slacks and it has him on the edge, the beast inside him tearing at the seams, but he knows better than to just act upon it, wants to make it better for you.

Tangerine watches the muscles is your legs and back relaxing over the passing minutes that you warm his fingers, walls and pussy growing plush and warm warm warm, as you hold him inside of you, breath slowing down a little with it, too.

"Mhm, there ya go", your hole flutters around his fingers as he pulls them out and you mewl, legs wobbly with your denied orgasm, cunt aching for just another small touch. You can feel it pulsating, your clit throbbing.

"Daddy", you whine helplessly, hips lifting a little, "N-need your cock." And he's gonna give it to you, feels like he's about to burst anyways.

"Shh shh", Tangerine coos, sticky hand rubbing over your sore ass, the slight pain igniting your lust even more, has fresh wetness pooling between your folds, "Good girls get rewarded, don'they?"

You nod frantically, thighs rubbing together. "Well," you can hear the grin forming on his face, "Get on your fuckin' knees, then."

Tangerine parts his thighs a little and you scramble from his lap hastily, sinking down between his spread legs. Your ass is sore and burns and as you sink on to your thighs you can feel the sting, eyes tearing up a little and you blink up at him - hands resting obediently on his knees.

"Look at ya", he whispers, a dark shadow dancing over his eyes, as he licks his lips.

Tangerine cups your face with both hands, carefully brushing a few loose strands from your cheeks and forehead. Your hands brush over his thighs, feeling his muscles twitch beneath the expensive fabric and then you lean in. You're all cock-drunk, needy and wanting with your cunt pulsing between your legs. Your tongue runs over the outline of his clothed dick, leaves a damp stripe behind and Tangerine groans, eyes growing even darker. "Fuckin' hell, you really need't be stuffed, huh", he watches you running your lips over his bulge and he feels like he's about to burst; creaming into his pants like he's fucking 16 and living on the streets again, watching some hooker giving a City man a gobby behind a dumpster.

"Stop it", Tangerine husks, grabs your hair, and yanks your head away, breath already a little ragged, "Fuckin' behave ya'self."

Your eyes gleam up at him and he grins, thumb brushing over your temple gently. "C'mon, get my dick out, will ya?"

You comply, fingers hastily fumbling open his belt and pulling down the zipper, opening the fly of his pants and yanking his satin boxers down.

Tangerine inhales sharply as his long and thick dick springs free against his abdomen, tip flushed pink and glistening with precum. Your mouth waters at the sight and he wants to drag it out, he really wants to, feel arousal pumping through his veins - gets high on it like only adrenaline usually does it for him.

But it's physically impossible - the way you're looking at his hard cock with watery, dopey eyes and flushes cheeks while kneeling in front of him naked has his boner fucking aching. "Fuckin' get to it already, slut."

And you do, one hand grabbing his dick at the base, tongue darting out and licking a wet stripe up to the tip, flicking your tongue over it and licking his precum up.

You love his cock, you really do. Nice and long and thick, cut and resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair. You love the way he fucks you with it, too, how it never misses the spot that has you seeing stars and white spots, how it feels like it has been made for your pussy and yours alone.

You love how it tastes, salty and musky, and you wrap your lips around its tip, resting it on your tongue - not sucking, not licking - just feeling and tasting his dick.

It's fucking huge anyways, looks like it too, wrapped in by your slender fingers. You close your eyes, tongue swirling around the tip before your close your lips around it, gently sucking while your hand strokes the base of his cock.

"Mh, that's how it's supposed t'be, ain't it, sugar?", he hums, hands brushing through your hair, "Me coming home to ya, my pretty little housewife, ready to please."

You hum around his cock, slowly letting him in deeper, tongue rubbing over the bottom while your lips suck. You can hear him breathe deeply and your gaze flicks up to him.

Tangerine looks down at you, eyes dark and shining with lust, one hand gripping the edge of the bed, his chest flushed. The look on his face makes you wet wet wet, wanting to please him.

You keep your eyes on him as you take more of his dick into your mouth, relaxing your jaw but still gagging a little as the tip grazes your throat. He chuckles meanly.

"C'mon love, you can do better than that, can't ya?", Tangerine fists your hair and you hallow your cheeks, your jaw going slack as you let him in further.

You want to be good for him - good girl good girl good girl - your body practically igniting with every little praise he grants you and you want to hear it again. Thus, you move your head around his cock, sucking him off, tongue rubbing over the bottom his dick.

Quickly, you are overdoing it, choking, and gagging around it, eyes tearing up as you hastily suck in a few breaths through your nose.

"Look at ya, all pretty tits and tight holes, but no fuckin' brain", Tangerine mocks, thumb stroking your cheekbone, rubbing over your temple, and then wandering through your hair, cupping the back of your head, "You look so pretty with my cock in ya mouth like that. Only thing you're good for, eh?"

He doesn't wait for you to regain your breath, rolls his hips once, holds your head in place as he thrusts into your mouth.

You relax your throat, letting him in, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it. Still sucking in air through your nose your eyelids flutter, readying yourself for what you know is about to come.

Knowing him, you're not wrong as he starts to roll his hips again and again, groaning with the sensation of his dick burying itself deep in your throat.

Tangerine watches how his cock vanishes in your mouth, bulges your throat a little and he can't hold back anymore. His hand grabs your neck, thumb pressing against your scalp and starts to fuck into your mouth. "Fuckin' hell", he huffs, your spit slicking his cock as he slips in and out of your mouth.

You moan, sending vibrations through his cock that has it twitching in your throat, making your eyes tear up, gagging a little.

Being used by him like this has your heartbeat picking up, bruises on your ass still stinging and cunt throbbing and you rub your thighs together, hands clawing into his slacks.

"Yeah, that's it -- get's you all fuckin' wet choking on my big cock like that, dunnit?", it does, has you sputtering around the thick base, spit running down your chin, wetting his trimmed pubes.

Holding your head in place Tangerine fucks into your mouth, groaning and moaning occassionally, watches your chin turning wet with spit, eyes wet with tears - your thighs rubbing together. The way he ruts into you has his bracelet and chain rustling.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ", he groans and you can feel his thighs clenching underneath your touch, the muscles underneath his waistcoat hardening and his cock twitching, pulsating on your tongue. You know he's close and you ready up for --

Suddenly, Tangerine pulls his dick from your mouth - has you gasping for air - and takes your hand, the one still firmly resting on his thigh. He holds it in his and then wraps it around his cock, your hand resting beneath his on his dick as he starts to jerk himself off with it. His hand is so much larger than yours, cold jewellery hard and heavy against your fingers, that wrap delicately around his hard cock.

"Keep your eyes open 'n look at me", he rasps, and you can feel his dick twitch in your hand as your gazes lock and then he moans, deep and feral - thick, hot ropes of white cum shoot out of his cock onto your cheeks. He strokes himself through his orgasm with your hand, sucks in a sharp breath as he paints your face white, marks you up.

Your eyelids flutter as you try your best to keep them open, his cum missing your eye by mere millimetres.

Tangerine groans as the last bit of cum lands on your face, goosebumps raising on his skin. His dick slowly goes flaccid after he sucks in a few breaths. Looking at you, he grins, licks his lips.

His free hand brushes through your hair, keeps the strands out of his cum, gently stroking your forehead. "Put m'cock away, will ya?"

You comply, kitten licks cleaning the few droplets of cum from the tip and then his hand lets go of yours, allows you to carefully put him back into his boxers, pulling the zipper back up.

Watching your blown-out dark eyes and puffy lips, he sucks in another deep breath, cheeks reddened a little and the colour spreads down down down his throat, tints his chest in a pretty pink beneath his chest hair, vanishes underneath his unbuttoned shirt. "Y'wanna cum, too, hm silly?"

And you nod, nod, nod.

"Atta girl, jus' a second - we should get ya cleaned up, shouldn't we?"

Tangerine's slender fingers run through his cum plastered on your cheek, scooping some of it up before tapping your lips. You open up obediently and he wastes no time pushing them in, feeding you his cum like it's cream. "There ya go, lick 'em clean", and you do, tongue swirling around his fingers, before he pulls them out and moves them across your face, collecting some more of his cum until he is pushing them back into your opened mouth, "Least that ya clean up well."

You can feel your cheeks turning red, the taste of them mingling with his cum and the remaining taste of sucking him off, has you moaning around his fingers. "Maybe I should fuckin' cum on everything I want'ya to tidy up? Would you like that, whore?"

Your eyelids flutter, nodding like you are fucking possessed. "Yeah, bet you love that. House would be fuckin' spotless. Bet I could fuckin' shoot a load on the floor and you'd lick it up, huh?"

You hum around his fingers and his lips tilt up. "And what would you say then, hm?", his clean fingers, sticky with your saliva, slip from your mouth.

"T-thank you for keeping me busy", you croak.

"So ya do have manners after all", he mocks, looking genuinely amused and gives your cheek a light pat, rings connecting with your sticky skin, "Alright, get back on the bed. I ain't fuckin' done wit'ya."

Tangerine gets up, grabs your hand, and helps you back on your feet, watches your naked form as you crawl onto the mattress. He is still fully dressed and your whole fucking body tingles as you catch him staring, eyes roaming over your flushed backside, your plush and aching cunt resting firmly and exposed between your thighs as you kneel on all fours before rolling on your stomach. You bite your lower lip and - deciding to make a show out of it for him, to finally, finally get what you want and need - you stretch one leg out delicately, arching your back a little.

Tangerine huffs. You look so fucked-out, used, with your swollen lips and dark, lustful eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair a mess, nipples hard and cunt all puffy. But you can't help it - you feel like you're on fire, hands darting out for leverage as you spread your legs, exposing yourself to him.

He kneels between your spread legs, the mattress dipping a little and his hands run over your thighs. You hum, gaze flicking over his strong arms, as one of his hands brushes higher, over your hip and waist, cups your tit and squeezes your nipple.

"Back to actin' like the whore you are, eh?", you squirm as he toys with your nipple, pleasure shooting through your body, fresh wetness pooling between your legs. His other hand brushes up your thigh and his fingers quickly dip between your legs, running through your slick. "C'mon, spread your legs f'me", following his command your knees fall to the side, giving his gaze way to your wet and aching cunt.

Tangerine licks his lips, giving your tit one last squeeze before running down your body, spreading your folds apart with both hands.

"Jesus Christ, you just have the prettiest cunt, don't ya?", Tangerine's thumbs stroke your outer labia, pulling them apart while he watches your cunt throb, hole fluttering open, wanton for his attention. "Wouldn't want to fuck another one, 's perfect."

He grabs the pink bag that had been laying discarded on the mattress and ziiips it open, reaches inside. You stomach tingles as he pulls your favourite vibrator out of it, tosses a bottle of lube onto the sheets. It is slightly curved and has just the right girth and length to be sufficient; you love to fuck yourself with it when he is away, having him cooing pretty things into your ear over the phone while he jerks himself off to your sweet sounds.

Your breath hitches and you watch his every move, cunt aching for any sort of friction and the unspoken promise of being fucked by him with the toy has you going a little dizzy. It's not quite like being fucked by his dick, but it's strong and usually leaves you with shaky legs.

Tangerine's gaze flicks over your face and a smug grin dances across his lips, one hand running over your thigh. "Y'gonna let Daddy have some fun with your cunt?", he brushes the toy over your sensitive clit and the cool silicone has your hips bucking immediately, "Wanna see ya come, such a pretty thing." You roll your hips onto the cold and quickly dampening toy, the friction being nice enough to make you moan quietly.

"P-please", you whisper, "T-turn it on."

Tangerine lifts an eyebrow. "You gotta speak up, whore, don't act like you still got cock in ya mouth."

His command has you blushing, eyelids fluttering. "C-can you", you swallow, speaking up a little, voice shaky, "Can you please turn it on?"

He scoffs, one hand grabbing your thigh. "Oh, of course. Why didn't you say that earlier, hm?"

And then, his thumb presses down onto the little button, has the vibrator coming to life in an instant, presses the tip down on your clit.

"Oh my god", you gasp, throwing your head back, hands grabbing the sheets. "Jus' me, love", he grins, licks his lips and presses the toy flatly onto your cunt. The vibrations are running through your abdomen, and you moan lewdly, grinding against it.

Your cunt pulsates and your clit throbs against it, mouth falling agape - moaning and panting in rhythm with your hips rolling onto the toy.

"Look at my silly little whore", he grabs your chin roughly, his gaze boring into yours as you look at him heavy-lidded, mouth slightly agape. Tangerine runs the vibrator through your folds and you arch your back into it. Squeezing some lube onto your cunt he is running the toy through it, until he decides it's slick enough and pushes it into your hole with one rough, quick stroke. Your hips buck with the sudden intrusion, the way you can feel it vibrating inside of you has you moaning, throwing your head back.

Tangerine gives you no time to assess to the feeling as he starts to immediately fuck you with it fast, obscene sounds filling the air as he pushes the toy in and out of you.

You gasp loudly, closing your eyes and fisting the sheets below you. Incoherent, dumb little sounds escape your throat as you moan and gasp, lips parted a little. The stimulation quickly becomes a lot, nearly too much, has your head falling to the side and eyes darting open, watching how his hand shoves the toy in and out of you. It's also not enough, had your stomach tingling and loins feeling they are on fucking fire, a strong pulling sensation in your lower belly that makes you feel like you might go insane.

"Daddy", you plead uselessly, clenching around the toy, "'S not enough."

"Ah, you poor thing - too bad", Tangerine tilts his head a little, smiles at you meanly, "You'll take it."

His hand abandons your chin and runs over your chest, roughly cupping your tit and giving a light slap before running back up up up, over your throat and then grabbing your chin again. Your gazes meet and something dances over his, dark and dangerous and you know that he is holding back just a little. And you know, that you don't want him to. Do it you mouth and his eyes fall shut for a split second, before opening up again, dark navy hazy with lust.

Your brain goes all foggy and swims with anticipation, as his hand vanishes. It comes back down on your cheek with a loud smack, throws your head to the side.

You moan like you are some cheap whore out of some fucking porno - high-pitched and loud -, throwing your head back with your hands grabbing the sheets hard as your body rocks down on the vibrator.

Tangerine scoffs at you - watches the way your slick mixes with the lube and spreads around the pink shaft - makes his fingers all sticky with it - shakes his head a little. "Needy fuckin' thing."

It's all too much and your legs fall shut, knees pressing together as your body tries both: to flee the immense stimulation and to embrace it, drown itself in it. But Tangerine is having none of it, grabs your knee forcefully and spreads your legs back apart, grabs your thigh and holds it down onto the matress. You whine, chest heaving and body shaking, has your tits bounce with it - his eyes follow the movement hungrily.

"'S too much", you whine, throwing your head to the side, eyes falling shut. You feel like you're on fire, toes curling and eyes rolling back, your cunt all plush and plump and throbbing and so so ready to fucking cum already but you just can't, it's just not enough.

"You'll take what I fuckin' give ya", and your whole body rocks with it, the pent-up pleasure running rampant through your body and you pull one knee up, angling your leg, feeling the toy gliding in deeper. You moan desperately, eyes watching how it drills into you, hips and legs starting to shake.

Tangerine grins at you, tilts his head a little. "Oh", he pouts at you playfully, cocks an eyebrow while his eyes gleam down at you, "Does she wanna come? Does she, yeah?"

His tongue kisses his teeth as his thumb flicks over the button on the vibrator. The sudden increase of the vibration has you gasping loudly, a very vocal Oh leaving your lips, followed by a high-pitched moan. One of your hands darts out and grabs the pillow above your head, giving you some more leverage to thrust down onto the toy.

You can feel the vibration of the toy pulsing through your whole lower body and it has you gasping with it.

"Yeah, that's it, innit?", his thumb presses down on your clit, rubs small circles and it has you coming loose, finally, a near scream ripping from your throat, shaking, and rocking onto his thumb and the vibrator. You squirt, wetting his arms and wrists, jewellery shining with your juices and the sheets get sticky and wet with it. Tangerine whistles lowly, watches how you come undone in front of him - tits bouncing and cheeks flushed - moaning and gasping, the ecstasy has your face in a near angelic expression.

And it gets him so fucking hard.

He knows that you will be ready for him again in no time, edging you leaves you wet and horny even after an orgasm and he just has to feel you now.

Tossing the toy onto the mattress, he runs a finger through your hot and sticks folds, has you whining and squirming. He feels you up, asses your slick and teases your hole for a short while, until sweet sweet moans replace your whining, until he can feel your clit throbbing beneath his finger.

"C'mon", Tangerine unbuckles his belt, "My stupid little whore has another one in her, don't she? One more f'Daddy?"

You whine, knees falling apart like you are his personal fucking sex doll, hole clenching around nothing. Your hands run over your tits, squeezing them while you watch him getting undressed - shredding the waistcoat first, followed by his tie and shirt and then his pants - one of them wanders down down down your body, lazily circles your clit.

Your eyes dart down to his hard dick that springs free as he tosses his boxers away, curving against his abdomen, the taste of it still on your tongue and your head swims with it.

"Don't ya fuckin' touch yourself", he swats your hand away and leans in, spits onto your hot and plush cunt, thumb immediately rubbing over your sensitive clit. Your legs shake, hips bucking and it takes only a few strokes of his finger for you to squirt again, adding fresh wetness to the sticky sheets below you. "No one touches you like I do, eh?", and you shake your head, eyes tearing up a little with lust, "Mh, thought so - not even yourself. Always need me to get ya off nice and proper, don't ya?"

He's right. Whenever he is gone and allows you to touch yourself over the phone you do come, but it's nowhere as good, toe-curling and le-shaking as it is when his tongue and fingers are on your cunt, dick buried deep deep inside of you. And thus, you nod -Yes yes yes escaping your lips like a chant.

He is so much taller, so much stronger than you - could snap your neck in a blink of an eye, rip your throat out with bare hands - and it has your head swimming while you watch him stroking himself, tip of his hard dick flushed pink and your brain practically shuts down fully at the sight. It tips you over, has your mind enter a foggy state and limbs going slack as subspace embraces you.

"You like that? You like being my slut, don't ya?"

"Y-yes, Daddy -- l-love it", you moan sweetly and then he looks up at you, lips curling into a crude smile.

Stretching his hand out towards you, he tilts his head a little. "Spit then, slut", and you do, leaning forward and spitting into his hand. Some of your saliva runs down your chin and he scoffs at that, wets his dick with your spit. You watch how he spreads your saliva around the flushed skin and your lips fall agape, a soft moan crawling from your throat. Your legs spread further, hands running over your thighs - up up up - spreading the lips of your cunt apart.

His gaze flicks up, watches how you expose yourself to him, practically offering him your hole, stretching it out for him. "Jesus Christ", he huffs, feels his heartbeat picking up and then he grabs your ankle forcefully, pulls you closer. You barely have any time processing him manhandling you as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushes in with one strong stroke, buries himself fully in your pussy.

He grabs your hands and pulls them away from your folds, carelessly drops them at the sides of you body, holds your hips up by your waist - watches the way you split on his dick while you gasp and pant.

His cock is so much bigger than the toy, longer and thicker and you gasp as he pushes in. The way your hole stretches around him is delicious, slight pain igniting your loins. No matter how often you take his dick, you are never fully used to it - the dull pain increased by a tenfold with your overstimulated and plush cunt, welcoming his cock home. "Ssh, there ya go, take it all", Tangerine coos, and you moan as his cock pushes in all the way, rests between your walls, hot and pulsating.

"Such a tight fuckin' cunt", he hisses, as you squeeze around him, while he starts to move slowly inside of you. Tangerine watches your lower belly bulging a little with his large cock, sees where it is fucking into you through your skin. One of his hands hooks around your knee, lifts your leg up a little, the other one gently caresses the small bulge in your lower stomach, feels himself beneath your skin.

Tangerine starts to roll his hips faster, angles his thrusts deeper as he looks at you, brows furrowed a little, hand cupping your lower stomach. You whine and mewl with the agonizingly slow way he pushes his cock into you, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches your face slowly coming apart, eyelids fluttering while you watch him fucking into you.

"You feel so fuckin' good, takin' me so well, eh", Tangerine's thrusts speed up, and your body slightly rocks with it, your hips meeting his. Your head falls to the side and you loose yourself into the way he fucks you - losing all track of time, your body going a little numb, feeling nothing more than his cock inside of you, his hands on your body.

"You fucking slut - fuckin' made to only please me", and you hum, a little drool gathering in the corner of your mouth, slooowly creeping out and dropping onto the mattress. Tangerine's gaze follows it hungrily and his eyelids flutter, while you look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Shit", he huffs, hips bucking into your hole wildly, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into them hard.

You are so fucking pretty to him, all fucked-out with your body obedient to him and your mind buried deep deep in subspace and a part of him wishes you'd never come back - staying in this blissful and stupid state, chasing nothing but pleasure and waiting for him at home, on your knees and offering your waiting holes to him.

And Tangerine can't stop his mind from going there, conjuring up the delicious image of you bend over the kitchen table in nothing but a tiny apron, cunt stuffed with some fucking toy, waiting for him to come home and take you. And that's what he'd do, drenched and dripping in blood, would leave red stains all over your soft skin when he grabs you, pushes his dick into your hot cunt.

It makes him moan, head falling forward a little, a few strands of hair coming loose. He has to hear you say it, feels his balls tensing at the thought. His eyes dart up at you through hooded eyes and dark lashes.

"Who d'ya fuckin' belong to?", he growls.

"'M all yours, fuck fuck fuck", sweet sweet moans fall from your lips and it has him going fucking feral. Tangerine moans deep in his throat, wraps one arm around your waist and with all his strength pulls you up, rests you on his muscular thighs. His shins are resting on the mattress as he hammers you down onto his dick and it has you seeing stars, the way his body presses against you, cock pushing into your hole deeper and deeper.

Desperate for any sort of leverage your arms wrap around his neck, fingers clawing at his shoulders while you turn into puddy in his arms, as he lifts your hips up and bounces you on his dick, manhandles you while you fuck yourself with it. Your tits bounce against his firm and sweaty chest, his breath tingles on your throat.

"There ya go", he grunts as you roll your hips, toes curling with the way the thick head of his dick brushes over the spot that has you seeing stars. You moan and gasp, head falling back as you rock onto him, chasing your release.

"D-daddy", you pant, breath hitching in your throat, blinking away the tears forming in your eyes. It's all too much but not enough and you need him to say it - need him to tell you that it's alright, that you're allowed to come. "'M gonna cum, p-please, I-I -- y-you", you whine incoherently, looking down and watching how his cock drills into you, your juices wetting his pubes and abdomen, running down your thighs, sounds of naked skin slapping onto each other filling the air.

There's a heavy pull in your loins and you gasp loudly, sweetly, hips stuttering.

Small tears of pent-up arousal run down your cheeks and he cups your face with one hand, leans in and licks them away, tongue gliding over your cheeks. "Shh shh", he murmurs, his dark blue eyes prettily framed by long lashes as they transfix your fucked-out gaze, "I'll let ya cum, love - whenever ya want, jus' let go."

"C-can't", you stutter, goosebumps on your skin as you gasp, fingers entangling his dark locks that curl right above his shoulders and pulling on them lightly. And that, that gets him fucking going.

Tangerine moans loudly, his cock twitching deep inside of you. He grabs your chin roughly, holds your head in place. "You fuckin' slut", he growls and you can't help but to tug again, completely out of it and unaware that it might have consequences for you - you just need to feel his cock twitch inside of you again.

It does, has you moaning, lips falling agape. "Fuckin' behave", he growls and then, in a blink of an eye, his hand leaves your chin and connects with your cheek with a loud smack, throwing your head to the side. It tips you over.

You squirt heavily around his cock as you cum, milking him, while rocking down on it and spreading your slick, making it shoot up and wet his abdomen, skin glistening with it. His trimmed pubic hair rubs your overstimulated clit and you release more wetness, obscene squelching sounds filling the air.

Tangerine's cock pulses inside of you as he comes, too, shoots thick ropes of hot cum into your cunt that seem endless while filling you up. You squeeze around him and you feel so so full, his cum already pooling at the base of his dick, pushing out of you, and mingling with your creamy release.

He roughly pushes you back onto the mattress, hands grabbing your knees and then he is rutting into you with near inhuman strength, fucking both of you through your cojoined orgasms. Tangerine's cum squelches in and out of you and you cry out as waves of pleasure roll through your body, makes your limbs tremble and squirt shooting against his dick, wetting his pubic hair and abdomen like you're a broken hose. You can feel it run down your legs, dripping down onto the sheets.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you cry out, shaking wildly and then everything goes white - your own body feeling far far away. Your limbs feel so so heavy but you also feel light, like flying, not a single thought remaining as you feel your orgasm running through your veins, making you shake with it.

It takes a while for your body to snap back out of it, slowly drifting back into reality. The first thing you feel, is a warm body pressing against your back.

"Are y'lright, love?", Tangerine whispers, strong hands running over your arms, your sides, your hip. Your body feels so, so heavy as your mind is slowly coming back.

"Yeah", you croak, throat sore and voice raspy.

"Don't ya move, dove - I'll get ya cleaned up", you turn your head and blink at him, still a little out of it and he smiles at you, presses a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead, his stache tingling a little, "You did so good for me, didn't ya? 'M so proud of ya."

You nod lazily, your hand brushing over his strong forearm. "Thank you, babe", you whisper quietly, all worn out and tired, "I really needed that."

"Mh, you're welcome, love."

***

It's the faint smell of coffee in the air that carefully tickles you awake the next morning. Outside the opened window birds are chirping.

The first thing you notice is, that your legs hurt. The second thing is, that the other side of the bed is empty.

You call out your lover's name, his actual, real name but there's no answer. Groaning, you get up, legs heavy and sore from last night, and walk out of the bedroom. You can hear water running and follow the noise.

"Babe?", you peek through the half-opened door of the bathroom. There he is - in all his glory, with no shirt on - freckles dusted over his back like stars, scars and tattoos on full display, a cigarette dangling from his mouth while he is hunched over the sink. His hair curls over his shoulders, a little damp from what you assume must have been a recent shower. The air is still a little damp, despite the opened window. You can hear water splashing.

"Mornin'", Tangerine says, puffs out a cloud of smoke.

"No smoking indoors", you sigh, suppressing a yawn and he chuckles at that, deep in his throat.

"'M sorry, love, won't happen again."

"We both know it will", your hands brush over his shoulders and then you lean against him. You inhale his scent, feel his warmth against your palms. The muscles in his back and shoulder are working, flexing beneath the skin and you close your eyes, feeling the way his body works beneath you. He is oddly alive like this and you hope that he'll be home for a long time, won't leave again soon.

"Why are you up already?", you mumble against his firm back.

"Wanted to wash the stains out", and he sounds so, so annoyed by it, "But it's no use - it's either gonna be the dry-cleaner's or the bin, innit?"

[hentyehottie]

chileee what is up with me & angst 😭 I was able to salvage this from my notes so I thought why not post it lol probably my first and last aot piece cause idk how to write them fr 😭 & sorry to the Reiner loves cause I wrote him so mean 😭

cw: fat shaming, fat phobia, best friend Eren, ex-boyfriend Reiner, mention of cheating, verbal abuse, mention of k!lling, friends to lovers, one sided pining, sorry if I missed anything!

Word count is undetermined but it’s not that long.

❀

Eren hasn’t said a word to you since you arrived at his apartment, puffy eyed and soaking wet from the rain, just stepped out of the way and allowed you to walk in. 

You didn’t blame him, it’d been quite a while since the two of you had last spoken. Two or three weeks maybe, you couldn’t remember. It was difficult keeping track of time when your mind was slowly but surely shutting down. Either way it made you feel like shit. 

You wanted to to sit and talk to him but your first priority was getting out of those wet clothes. You went straight to his bedroom, closing yourself in the en-suite.

You let the shower run for a little bit, fogging up the room and hopefully drowning out your sorrow as you sit on the covered toilet, aimlessly scrolling. You checked the notifications on your phone, tapping around until you heard your ex-boyfriend’s voice projecting from the speakers. 

“Baby, just come back home. Please, let’s just talk about it.” “Hear me out, Y/N. I’m sorry okay, just come back.”

The way he was pleading you’d think he actually gave a damn about you.

“Come on Y/N,” There’s a short pause and a deep sigh. You know it’s coming. You hear the change in his tone, that false compassion and empathy has withered away. “Let’s face it, Y/N. Nobody’s gonna want you but me. Nobody’s into fat bitches. You’re lucky your face is cute. Nothing but a pretty face and a hole to fuck. Or should I say holes? I’m sure a slut like you takes it up the ass too-.”

Globs of hot tears ran down your face, budding at your chin and pooling on the screen of your phone. You deleted the nasty voice message Reiner left, only thirteen seconds into the minute and twelve second voice message, his harsh words breaking your heart all over again. 

The wound was still fresh and he did nothing but cut you deeper. Why was he like that???

Blocking his number so you wouldn’t receive anymore, you were ready to be done with this shit. Ready to heal from Reiner and all the bullshit he‘s put you through.

After your eyes are cried out and your skin is parched from the piping hot water, you finally exit. 

You didn’t leave with anything except your purse, phone and the clothes on your back, so you’re more than grateful to see a white tshirt and a towel on Eren’s bed waiting for you. The shirt was a little tight on your arms and the hem ended right at the cusp of your butt but it was better than nothing. 

The California King in his bedroom looked freshly made, plush and inviting, but you’d spent far too many nights alone in an empty bed while your so-called partner occupied another. You should’ve known that’s how it’d be when you decided to get yourself into a domesticated situationship with a narcissistic cheater.

You opted for the couch, where Eren was also sitting. He’s munching on a bowl of cereal watching some crime documentary. The atmosphere is dull, but it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be.

“Hey!”

He didn’t bother feigning the same excitement, sending nothing but a head nod you’re way but you’re still grateful to get something out of him.

Maybe he was annoyed, which he had every right to be. It was late as hell, around three in the morning, and you honestly felt a little bad. Showing up out of the blue and forcing him to share his space. 

“I really appreciate you letting me stay here, there were no rooms available anywhere.”

He ignored you, you figured he would. He hasn’t said much since you’ve been there. He’s treating you as if you’re a stranger, almost.

Unfortunately the documentary has lost all of his interest, he figured out the wife was the killer all along and there’s no reason to keep watching. 

Now he’s stretching out, manspreading if you will, with his legs cocked open. He’s sporting that same bored look, except now he’s on his phone watching TikTok’s with his volume obnoxiously loud.

Honestly, he didn’t even touch this app unless he was watching the shit ton of videos you sent him at some manic hour of the night. But right now he needed something to distract him. To distract him from everything only you made him feel.

“I get paid Friday, I can send you something once it’s deposited, my money lookin kinda funny right now so...” 

You’d spent close to your last getting an Uber to Eren’s. You weren’t sure why you even decided to come to Eren’s. Your parents lived in the same city and they probably would’ve been more welcoming than he was being right about now. 

“When have I ever asked you to pay me back for anything y/n?” 

His tone isn’t cold or mean, but indifferent. Like he doesn’t care. You’re sure he doesn’t. 

The tension is almost tangible, thick and suffocating.

“I know, but-“ You cut yourself off, stumbling over your words. Your throat is scratchy and your mouth dry. You didn’t know exactly what to say to mend things between you and your bestfriend. 

You hoped to pick up the pieces. Pickup where you left off like the two of y’all always did. But this here just showed how dumb and deluded you really were.

“I’m sorry…you were right.” You feel ashamed. Embarrassed even.

You can feel him staring at you, so you keep your eyes glued to your hands in your lap, twirling your thumbs in hopes to make amends. 

“What are you talking about, y/n?” You can feel his gaze boring into you.

“About Reiner…and every-everything else really. We not getting back together, forreal this time, I can’t.”

He was right about everything. Reiner was an immature asshole. You trusted his smooth talking, pretty smile and it backfired horrendously. 

Reiner was verbally abusive, insecure and mean, and he projected it without a care. Tore you down every chance he got, belittling you until you were almost an empty shell of your former self. 

On top of that, he was insensitive as hell, bullied you worse than any of those middle and high school nobodies you no longer remembered.

He’d probably use his last breath to lie, just because. If you were blind he’d tell you the sun was blue and the sky was yellow, for no reason whatsoever other than to be a dick. 

All of this Eren warned you about, but you just had to go and see for yourself. You fell for the first boy to show interest in you. The first to give you attention and affection. The first one who wasn’t looking to ‘try it out’ with a fat girl or looked at you like some pity case. 

So you thought. 

“You’ve said that before.”

“I know! But I mean it this time, and I’m so sorry for ghosting you and lying a-and putting him first before our friendship cause..I know you wouldn’t do that to me and I’m such an awful person-.”

Your sniffles turned into sobs, deep sobs that shook your entire body against his when he finally went against his stubborn ways and pulled you into a hug. 

You sound sincere, but Eren doesn’t know if he believes you. Hell it wouldn’t be the first time you lied to him about getting back with Reiner.

He wanted to tell you off. Scold you and yell at you for abandoning him. For giving him your ass to kiss cus you thought you were in love, only to come crawling back asking him to pick up the fucking pieces, again.

“I should’ve listened to you.”

Words muffled into his chest but he heard you. 

“You should’ve.” He doesn’t mean to sound condescending but it’s true. “I don’t like seeing you cry.” 

His voice startled you a little bit, velvety and deep, chest rumbling as he still had you pressed up against his frame. The aloof facade cracking with each sob. 

“I’ll handle it.”

He’d handle it. Handle him. 

His arms embraced you tighter. One holding you against him while the other ran down your back, over your thigh then back up again as he allowed you to bawl your eyes out.

“I hate when you talk like that Ren,” You leaned back to look at him. “You know I don’t like unnecessary viole-.” 

He grabs your face mid sentence, squishing your cheeks together, your lips round and pouty as you stared back at him. 

“How’s it unnecessary when my princess is sitting here with tears running down her pretty ass face?”

It slipped but he made no attempt to correct it.

His princess. He’d always called you a princess, especially when y’all were younger. He found it very intriguing how spoiled you were, especially by the men in your life. Dad, uncles, even Eren himself. 

He remembers saving up his little paychecks from working part time to spoil you as well, buying you little trinkets and gifts you probably didn’t even have anymore. 

Nothing was unnecessary when it came to his princess. He’d die for you. Kill for you, even. You were the light of his dim life. Why wouldn’t you just realize it?