#gotta break out or else nothing will change

[stlllle]

hey babesss

is there any chance that you’re doing “she has you now” pt.2???

maybe a closure for the reader, a peak of her life and how she got over the pain…?

and maybe make chan suffer cus that was so shitty of him LMAO pls pls

LOVE THE FIC BTW, you are amazing 1000000/10

She Has You Now — Part 2

Part 1

[Fanfic | Bang Chan × Reader | Angst | Drama | Exes | Continuation]

Synopsis:

Years have passed since he chose someone else. Since he left you behind, alone with broken promises, unspoken pain, and dreams that never came true.

Now, he's back. Regretful.

But what do you do when the one who destroyed your heart wants to fix what he shattered?

What to expect in this part:

– tense reunion with the ex

– hurt but empowered reader

– regretful, suffering Bang Chan

– flashbacks to a love that didn’t survive

– healing, heartbreak, and moving on

– sad but strong ending 💔

Content Warnings:

– emotional heaviness

– mention of miscarriage

– cheating themes

– light profanity

– serious heartbreak

– if you’ve been through toxic relationships or abandonment, please read carefully 🤍

Main Characters:

– You (Reader)

– Bang Chan

– Stray Kids (minor roles): still your friends (and not fans of his new girl, lol).

💌Author's Note:

Hiii, here’s Part 2! I gotta admit I wasn’t super into making it (because I’m not great with sequels 😔), but here it is 🙂

And I think it ended pretty well… I feel like Bang Chan suffered enough in this one lol.

✨ Enjoy the read—and if your ex comes back... just block him, babe.

Masterlist skz

my main masterlist

It had been three years.

Three autumns without his voice, three birthdays with no messages, and three winters colder than the ones before. Bang Chan had left her life like a ghost — one that didn’t haunt her house, but haunted her ribs. Quietly. Invisibly. Deep.

At first, silence was unbearable.

There was always that itch — checking her phone at 2am, hoping for a drunk apology. Or worse, hoping to see his name in the headlines, regretting it all.

But nothing ever came.

Just photos of him and her.

New girlfriend. New hair. New interviews.

None of them included you anymore.

But you didn’t break. Not entirely.

You moved cities. You changed your number (though you still had his memorized). You started painting again, joined a tiny community yoga class, and even adopted a black cat named “Bam” out of pure irony.

Sometimes you cried while brushing your teeth, or while watching someone in a drama cry for the same reasons you did. But slowly…

The silence stopped hurting.

And started becoming yours.

—

It was a Saturday, warm and lazy.

You were driving a borrowed van to help Seungmin move some stuff into his new apartment. Han was already inside, feet up on the dashboard, singing along to something weirdly dramatic. Hyunjin was in the back, headphones in, pretending not to be emotionally invested in any of this.

You were at peace.

Until Seungmin groaned, tossing a soda can into the cupholder with a frown.

"I swear to god," he started, "if I have to hear Chan’s girlfriend say the word ‘organic’ one more time, I’m gonna eat plastic on purpose.”

You choked on your drink, laughing. “What?!”

“No, seriously,” Han jumped in. “She’s so boring. And I mean boring. She speaks like she’s in a TED Talk about air.”

“She said bananas were ‘too sugary’ the other day,” Seungmin muttered. “Bananas. The most innocent fruit.”

You couldn’t help it — you burst out laughing. It felt good. It felt like old times. Like before everything broke.

“She’s just… not you,” Han said softly, almost like he regretted saying it out loud.

You froze.

“I mean,” he added quickly, “not that we’re comparing or anything, but like—”

“No,” you interrupted, still smiling faintly. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“Do you miss him?” Seungmin asked, softer now.

You thought for a second.

Do I?

“…Not him,” you said. “Just the way he made me feel. Back then. When it was real.”

There was silence in the car, and for a moment, it felt like grief had settled between all of you — but it wasn’t heavy. It was soft now. Manageable.

From the backseat, Hyunjin finally spoke, eyes still on his phone.

“Word is… he misses you.”

You turned around slowly.

“…What?”

Hyunjin shrugged. “He’s been asking about you lately. Like, through people. Quietly. Like a coward.”

Han blinked. “Wait, what? You didn’t tell us that!”

“Because it’s stupid,” Hyunjin replied. “He had her. He chose her. End of story.”

You turned back to the wheel.

You didn’t know how to feel.

But the world decided for you.

Your phone buzzed in the cupholder.

You glanced down.

One name.

One message.

Bang Chan.

“Hey… can we talk?”

—

You were doing dishes when your phone vibrated against the kitchen counter.

Nothing special. Just another night.

Just another calm, boring, blessed night.

But your heart stopped the second you saw the name.

Chan.

The name still sat in your phone.

Not “Bang Chan.” Not “Chris.”

Just Chan — like a scar you didn’t cover up but never really looked at.

It had been years.

Actual years.

Since you had last heard his voice, seen his face, or felt the damage of being invisible to the one who once called you his entire world.

And now?

Now he wanted to talk?

You didn’t open the message right away.

You made yourself finish rinsing the plate in your hands.

But you were trembling so hard you nearly dropped it.

---

Bang Chan [12:04 AM]

Hey… can we talk?

That alone could’ve been enough to break something in you.

But you didn’t respond.

So he kept writing.

---

Bang Chan [12:07 AM]

I know I’m the last person you want to hear from.

I just… I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

I don’t know if you ever think about me too.

Bang Chan [12:09 AM]

I know what I did was unforgivable.

I chose wrong. I was weak. I thought it would hurt less if I left first.

But God, it hasn’t stopped hurting since.

You blinked slowly.

Each message cut into you.

Not because they were true.

But because they weren’t.

He still made himself the victim.

Still painted the breakup like it had just “happened” — like he didn’t choose her, like he didn’t leave you gasping for air while they celebrated in public.

The silence between you had lasted years.

And now he wanted you to open your chest again? For what?

For another slow death?

---

Bang Chan [12:14 AM]

She’s… different.

I thought I wanted quiet. Simplicity. No drama.

But she’s not like you. She doesn’t light up a room.

She doesn’t make me laugh.

She doesn’t challenge me. Not like you did.

The audacity.

You actually laughed.

It was dry and bitter and loud enough to scare your cat off the couch.

He wanted fire again now that he’d lived in cold.

Too bad. You had burned for him before — burned and melted and became ash.

Now there was nothing left for him to warm his hands on.

---

Bang Chan [12:18 AM]

Sometimes I sit in the studio and just stare at the wall.

I can’t write like I used to.

I keep trying to make songs that sound like you.

Like your laugh. Your anger. Your softness.

But all I hear is static.

I miss you.

---

You looked at the blinking cursor in the message box.

You could say a thousand things.

You could scream. You could cry. You could ask why — even though you knew the answer already.

But the person who wanted to beg him to come back… she didn’t live here anymore.

You were someone else now. Someone stronger.

Someone quieter.

But God, it still hurt.

---

Then one more message came. The last one. The one that felt like a final straw tossed gently on an already burning pile.

Bang Chan [12:23 AM]

Can I see you?

Just once.

I just… I need to see your eyes again.

Please.

You stared at the words for a long time.

The kitchen light hummed softly above you. The world was still.

And inside your chest, a war.

You didn’t answer.

You just locked the phone.

Then picked up the towel and went back to drying the dishes.

Because just like that…

you were the one who left him waiting.

---

He looked small on your couch.

You hadn’t seen him in over a year — not really.

And yet, he sat in your living room like a ghost from another life.

You crossed your arms and stood, refusing to sit. Your heart was pounding, but not from love.

From anger.

“I almost didn’t let you in,” you began.

Your voice was low. Controlled. Too controlled.

Chan didn’t speak. Just nodded.

You scoffed. “Right. No defense this time?”

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said softly. “I just wanted to talk.”

“No,” you snapped. “You came here to feel better about what you did.”

He winced. “That’s not—”

“You left me when I needed you the most, Chan. When I was in pieces. When my whole world had just... collapsed.”

Silence.

“You remember, don’t you?” your voice cracked. “When we lost the baby.”

His eyes closed. His jaw clenched. But still, he said nothing.

“I was bleeding. I was in pain. I was grieving. And you—”

You swallowed hard.

“You started pulling away. Day by day. Until one day, you didn’t come back.”

---

He looked up, guilt carved deep into every feature.

“I didn’t know how to—”

“Don’t!” you snapped. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know how to be there. You knew how to be there for her. You knew how to smile for the cameras with her. How to make her feel like she mattered.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“You and I were together for years, Chan. five years. You knew I wanted a future with you. Marriage. Kids. A life.”

He looked away.

“And you knew it still, even after I lost our baby.”

Your throat tightened, but the rage was stronger than the tears.

“And then you go and play happy family with a woman you’ve known for eight months? You give her the public posts. The couple bracelets. The photoshoots. Everything I begged you for.”

You laughed, bitter and shaking.

“She was never hidden. Not for a second. Because she looks the part, right? Pale skin. Thin face. Pretty little Korean girl the company could market.”

“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “It wasn’t about that.”

“Then what the fuck was it about, Chan?!” you shouted.

His shoulders jumped — but he didn’t speak.

---

“I gave you everything. My body. My loyalty. My silence. My child.”

Your voice cracked. “And you gave me nothing but shadows.”

He finally looked up — and there were tears in his eyes. But they didn’t move you.

“Why couldn’t you love me in the light?” you whispered. “Why did I have to be your secret while she got to be your trophy?”

“I was scared,” he said finally. “Of what people would say. Of how the company would react. Of losing everything.”

“And you did,” you said. “You lost me.”

---

You sat across from him, staring at the broken man in front of you.

“I used to dream of marrying you,” you said quietly. “Of seeing you hold our child one day. I stayed even after the loss, because I thought we’d heal together.”

He was crying now, silent and ashamed.

“But you didn’t want to heal,” you said. “You wanted to pretend it never happened. You wanted someone easy. Clean. Convenient.”

His voice shook. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did hurt me. And now you’re here in my home, what—looking for forgiveness? Redemption? Closure?”

He shook his head, broken. “I just… I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. And that I never stopped loving you.”

---

That silenced the room.

For a second, it felt like the past tried to crawl back in.

But then you stood.

“Love without action is worthless,” you said. “You had me. And you let me suffer alone. You let me bleed alone. You let me cry for a future you destroyed.”

He stood too — slower, like the weight of everything had finally sunk in.

“I was weak,” he said. “And selfish.”

You nodded. “Yes, you were.”

---

He stepped toward you. Carefully. As if you might shatter.

“I think about you every day.”

“That’s not my problem anymore.”

He stopped.

“I wanted to come back sooner, but I didn’t know if you’d even speak to me.”

“And yet, here we are,” you said coldly. “But it changes nothing.”

“Can I—” he hesitated. “Can I see you again? Just to talk?”

You stared at him. Long and hard.

“I don’t know, Chan,” you said. “Because every time I see you, I remember how you chose her when I was bleeding.”

---

And with that… you opened the door.

He stood there, unmoving. Then he nodded. Slowly.

“I deserved that,” he said.

“Yes,” you whispered. “You did.”

He stepped out, and for once — he didn’t look back.

You closed the door.

This time, you were the one leaving him outside.

It hit him in the smallest moments.

The way she smiled at the camera without even looking at him.

The way she flinched when he touched her waist in public.

The way conversations with her died after two or three sentences.

Chan blinked at the woman sitting across from him at dinner. Beautiful. Polished. Sweet.

But the silence between them was suffocating.

She wasn’t you.

She never was.

---

He remembered the way you used to sit sideways on chairs, always barefoot, always warm.

The way you’d steal food off his plate like it was your right.

The way you’d talk about names for future babies like you’d already seen them in your dreams.

You were messy. Soft. Chaotic.

And so full of life.

You were real.

And she?

She was curated. Fragile. Pretty like an accessory.

He looked at her now and felt…

Nothing.

---

When they went home, she kissed him like she was checking a box.

No hunger. No spark. No love.

He tried — God, he tried — to respond.

But when he closed his eyes, it was your body he remembered.

The curve of your hips.

The way you’d sigh his name when he made love to you slow.

The way you always looked at him like he was your entire world — even when he didn’t deserve it.

---

He turned away from his current girlfriend that night, unable to sleep.

He had traded depth for simplicity.

A universe for a quiet surface.

And now, he was drowning.

---

In the shower, he found your old shampoo bottle.

He had brought it here months ago, trying to "move on."

But the scent… God, the scent was still you.

And it broke him.

---

He sat on the bathroom floor, water still dripping from his hair, head in his hands.

“I had her,” he whispered to himself. “I had the one.”

---

He remembered every moment he snuck out while you slept.

How he’d drive to meet the other woman, chasing something new — something exciting.

But now, all he could remember was the sight of your sleeping face.

The curve of your back. The way you clutched a pillow like it was him.

He left you in that bed — for what?

An orgasm?

A thrill?

You would’ve given him both — and love.

He had you, his home. And he ran.

---

He touched the old scar on his arm.

You’d cleaned that wound after a rough night on tour.

You didn’t sleep. You just held him, whispering that he didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Now?

Now he carried everything alone.

---

The next morning, his girlfriend tried to joke about something online. He forced a smile.

But all he could hear was your laughter — loud, reckless, always from your belly.

She looked confused.

“You okay?” she asked.

He stared at her. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But he wasn’t tired.

He was hollow.

---

He scrolled through his old phone.

Found pictures of you in hoodies. Messy buns. Your goofy grins. Your middle finger aimed at the lens.

You were alive.

Real.

Warm.

And he had thrown you away like you were replaceable.

But you weren’t.

---

You were the mother of the children he never had.

The future he never fought for.

The home he abandoned while it was still burning.

And now?

Now all he had was this lifeless relationship with a woman who would never ask about his scars.

Never scream with him in the car to his demo tracks.

Never lay her head on his chest and whisper about forever.

---

Because she wasn't you.

And she never would be.

He stood in front of her door like a ghost.

Eyes swollen. Breath shallow.

It had taken him weeks to ask for this meeting — and hours just to knock.

When she opened the door, he almost didn’t recognize her.

Not because she looked different.

But because she looked... whole.

---

“Hi,” he croaked. “Can I… Can I talk to you?”

She hesitated, arms crossed. But eventually stepped aside.

He walked into the same apartment where he used to live.

Where their love used to breathe.

Now, it smelled like candles he didn’t recognize.

It looked like a home he didn’t belong to.

---

She sat across from him. Calm. Still.

But her eyes were sharp — not angry, just guarded.

He was the one shaking.

---

“I miss you,” he said.

Nothing.

“I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

Still nothing.

“I left the love of my life for something that didn’t mean a thing.”

Her lips parted — not to speak, but to sigh. Exhausted.

“You already told me that," she whispered. “In that long message you sent. In the flowers. The voice note.”

“I know, but—” he leaned forward, voice breaking, “I need to say it to your face.”

---

He fell to his knees in front of her.

“I was scared,” he said, tears streaming now. “Scared of how much I loved you. Scared of losing fans. Scared of the life you dreamed of — marriage, babies — and I was too much of a coward to say I wanted it too.”

She stared down at him. Silent.

“I thought I could replace you,” he choked. “I thought someone more ‘acceptable’ would make my life easier. But nothing’s easy without you.”

He grabbed her hands.

“I’ll never find another you. I don’t even want to. Just... please. Please let me try again. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you my name. A family. Everything. Just come back to me.”

---

She slowly pulled her hands from his.

Then stood.

And when she spoke, her voice was soft — but it cut like a blade.

---

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “You really did lose me.”

His breath hitched.

“I loved you more than anything, Chan. I waited for years. Hoped you’d fight for me. Hoped you'd stand beside me. You left me during the worst moment of my life — when I was grieving our baby.”

His eyes filled again. “I know. I know—”

“I don’t think you do.” Her voice wavered now, but only slightly. “Because if you did, you’d understand why I can forgive you… but I’ll never belong to you again.”

---

His whole body froze.

“I forgive you,” she repeated, clearly. “I forgive you for being scared. For choosing her. For not protecting us when I needed you most.”

She took a step back.

“But that’s all you get. My forgiveness. Not my love. Not my future.”

---

He fell apart on her floor.

Cried like he never had — not even when he lost her the first time.

Because now he understood: she wasn't coming back.

And this time, he wasn’t losing a girlfriend.

He was losing his forever.

---

She watched him crumble.

And for a moment… she cried too.

But she turned around, wiped her cheeks, and walked toward the door.

Right before she opened it, she looked over her shoulder one last time.

---

“You wanted forgiveness,” she said gently. “You got it.”

She blinked, eyes glossy.

“But if you wanted me… you should’ve fought for me before I stopped waiting.”

---

And then she was gone.

Leaving him behind.

Like he once left her.

It had been months.

He hadn’t seen her since that day in her apartment — the day she told him she forgave him but wouldn’t come back.

He thought about her every day.

Sometimes he’d dream of her voice. Her laugh. The way she used to fold his clothes even though he told her not to.

He’d wake up reaching for a pillow, hoping it smelled like her.

But it never did.

She was gone.

And he thought the worst part was knowing she wouldn’t come back.

He was wrong.

The worst part was seeing her again.

---

It happened at a small event.

A birthday party for one of their mutual friends. He almost didn’t go — but something in him said maybe, just maybe, she’d be there.

She was.

Wearing a soft pink dress.

With her hair down.

Smiling so wide, it made his chest physically ache.

But she wasn’t alone.

He stood frozen as he saw her — hand in hand — with someone else.

Someone new.

---

The guy was tall. Not flashy. Just… calm.

He had one hand around her waist and the other gently guiding her through the crowd.

She looked safe with him.

Happy.

Not the forced kind of happy he’d seen on her face during the last few months they were together — not the smile that said “please love me even though I’m invisible.”

This smile was genuine. Effortless.

Like she had finally exhaled.

---

He turned away before she could see him.

But even from across the room, he could still hear her laugh.

It used to be his favorite sound.

Now it made his heart sink.

He grabbed a drink he wouldn’t finish and stepped outside, breathing in the cold night air like it could freeze the pain inside him.

---

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

She had moved on.

She had found someone who wasn’t ashamed to love her in the open.

Someone who held her close, not in secret.

Someone who didn’t choose fear over her.

And Chan?

He was still living in that apartment alone.

Still waking up to silence.

Still wondering what would’ve happened if he had chosen her sooner.

---

He smiled bitterly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Good,” he whispered to no one. “She looks happy.”

He wiped his eyes before they fell.

“She deserves it.”

And this time, he didn’t mean I want her back.

He meant: I’m glad she’s free.

---

The end

[bestdressedchuuya]

Goddd I feel so anxious all the time lately. I really hope I start to calm down after I'm done with my last week of work

[kurooh]

keigo is unapologetically a whore when it comes to sending you voice notes. it’s a surprise every damn time—it could be the middle of the day, and you’ll press play, expecting a rant about something, only to for his pretty groans to reverberate through the earbuds.

your jaw drops, and a low heat begins to simmer in your stomach. after you’ve quickly scanned the area to make sure nobody’s around, you crank up the volume to the max and restart the note.

“god, fuuuck,” he moans, the word trembling on his lips, and it is just too easy to picture him right now. in your mind’s eye, you can see him leaning against a wall on the very top of a tall building, flushed cock in hand while he tries his hardest not to drop his phone. “i need you, baby. i need to bend you over right now and give you this dick.”

keigo shudders, and you can hear the ruffle of his agitated feathers in the background. his breaths come in both hot and heavy, crackling through the phone between each pinched gasp or moan.

“i - i know you’re gonna say i’m being dramatic, but god, you have no ideaaa,” each slick pump of his hand on his cock brings less relief than it is meant to, and you notice the frustration making its way through his dirty talk. “i can’t focus. all i’m able to think about is—nghhh, shit—is how goddamn pretty you look when you’re fucking me back.”

keigo takes a moment to drag in a shaky inhale, his nose whistling softly as he does so. your thighs squeeze together tightly, arousal pooling sticky and wet between them. just like he had intended, you’re hanging off every word, nearly sick with desire as you wait for more.

you think of him throwing his head back in that certain way that he does when he nearly sobs out your name, sounding broken and debauched all at once. god, he’s so damn shameless, sending you shit like this while he’s on patrol and you’re somewhere across the city. it’s hard to complain, though, with the way he spoils you—you almost begin to wonder what you did to deserve a four minute audio jam packed with noise.

“oh, oh fuck,” keigo whines, sounding like he’s nibbling at his chain, a nervous habit of his, “christ. you—you gotta tell me where you are, angel. i can’t handle this anymore, i really can’t.”

not far from the speaker, his feathers flick and shuffle, sounding more uncontrolled than before. “ughhh, i just wish you could see what you do to me. i’m crazy for you and sometimes it’s like you don’t even know it.”

he goes on to say something else, but it’s too crackly and muffled to understand. you shift in your seat, feeling hot all over—you’ve seen what you do to him, and is it a sight.

keigo’s cheeks always flush a rosy color, and when his body is tangled up with yours, it’s impossible for him to even attempt to mask his emotions. breaking down his daytime defenses and making a mess of him is satisfying in a way that is impossible to stop craving. on the other side of the phone, he probably looks even better than you could even imagine—golden and flushed in the afternoon sun, chain between his teeth, expression crumbling into one of absolute bliss.

you can hear the change in his breathing pattern, the way it becomes more stuttered and gasping, and you know your favorite part of the audio is coming soon. literally.

“—so close, i’m so fucking close,” a litany of moans spill out of his mouth, each one softer than the last. “all i want you to do is come here and take what’s yours, angel . . hah, i’m gonna cum—shit, ‘m gonna cum for you.”

you’ve got stars in your eyes as you mentally cheer him on, feeling your own arousal swell and rise in your chest like a tidal wave. thanks to keigo, you’re all hot and bothered in a café.

keigo falls apart just as a barista passes you with a coffee in hand, and you ride the high along with him. he sounds nothing short of beautiful as his groans dissolve into overstimulated gasps of your name and various pet names.

he chuckles, quaking with sensitivity. “there’s so much. if you were here, you might’ve choked,” he sighs dreamily, starry-eyed. “i’ve combed through this district and the next one over twice already. send me your location, angel.”

there’s some static and shuffling before you hear him shaking his wings out to get them ready for flying. “we’ve got plenty of time, if you’re fine with not being able to walk after. maybe i can drop you off at the house and we can take a quick shower there too.”

[mxxnechos]

Jason Todd, who can style his own hair very well, in his and in other’s opinions, but who has you who can always style it just the tiniest bit better.

It always looks fluffier, curlier. It sits better on his head, frames his face just right. It goes a bit on his forehead, but never gets into his eye. It smells better (maybe because you use your shampoo, and you choose the products, and Jason will always love to smell like you) and over all, it’s just better when you do it.

Queue your wedding day. You’re both stressed, though way too excited for either of your own goods. And Jason’s hair just.. doesn’t look right. It looks off, like it’s missing something. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t use your shampoo, because he did, because he always does now. So his hair smell good, great even (only because it smells like you). He didn’t bother hiring someone to do his hair, he could do it very well himself. So what was missing?

And Jason, the sweet boy, is stressing out of his mind. He’s pacing in front of the mirror, murmuring things amongst this day having to be perfect. And nothing else, because it’s you.

And Dick is just looking at him so apologetically because he gets it, from when he got married to Kori, weddings are stressful, especially your own.

And Jason doesn’t notice, of course, how Dick is staring at him (partially because he currently too busy trying not to rip his hair out on his wedding day with the love of his life, and partially because he’s avoiding the look Dick is giving him that roughly translates to “you’ve grown up so much and I’m so proud of you” because he knows he’ll cry more than needed if he sees it). He stays relevantly silent before muttering words Dick really can’t miss. And it’s almost like Jason panting, like he’s on the verge of breaking.

“I wanna.. wanna see them… I.. I gotta see them.”

And he turns to look at Dick with this urgency in his eyes. One Dick can’t ignore whatsoever. And he leaves, immediately. Goes to get you. Because he can’t ignore his baby brother’s worries, he can’t just let his first baby brother break in front of him (again).

The hair stylist is putting the final accessories in your hair, when Dick bursts through the door like he ran here. You don’t startle much, used to his and his family’s shenanigans. You look at him with a questioning look, and all Dick can murmur through him catching his breath is:

“Jason needs you.”

And you’re up in an instant, apologising to the hair stylist, who is immediate to understand, as you rush to your love’s changing room.

You don’t go in, you and Jason having agreed to not see each other before being ready (a difficult task for the both of you, but you know will be worth it). Dick passes you to get in, to let Jason know you’re here, and to help him cover his eyes, because he knows his brother would be upset if he disrupted your agreement with each other.

Makeshift blindfold on, and you’re inside in a second, soft hands cupping Jason’s gorgeous face, looking over him worryingly. Dick leaves to give you some space in the meantime.

“Hiya lovie, what’s wrong?”

His hands come up to hold your wrists. “I just..” he takes a deep breath. “My hair doesn’t look good no matter what I do, and it has to be perfect cause today has to be perfect and, and-“

You cut off his rambling with a light kiss, a pout immediately forming on his face after.

“Do you want me to do your hair lovie?” You know he likes it when you do his hair, and you’d do anything to make him feel better.

“Please?” His voice slightly breaks, and so does your heart.

“Always sweets,” you whisper softly, pressing light kisses to his cheeks, one to the tip of his nose, and finally to his lips. “I’m gonna help you sit down okay? I can’t do your hair when you’re this tall.” You laugh a little as you bring him to a chair, and he cracks a small smile.

Though you didn’t have all your usual products, you had enough to make his hair look just right. You and Jason laughing and smiling like the two love birds you are through the whole endeavour. And if Dick was able to sneak a few pictures, and recounts this exact moment in his speech later, you know both you and Jason will cherish this memory forever, beyond death and all.

would anyone believe me if i said i wrote this while my plane was being delayed? yeah idk either i was bored and yeah :P

anyway this boy is my heart and soul i need to take a big chomp out of him he’s so precious

© mxxnechos -- please do not repost, modify, translate, plagiarise, or feed my content into AI. All likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are deeply appreciated!!

[mageofmadness]

CALEB + HOLE INSPECTION

(1.8k) ₊˚⊹ 𐙚🧸‧₊˚ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader, jealous!caleb, questionable morals, cheating (not on caleb it's just a shitty bf), hole inspections, virginity kink if you squint, dirty talk real filthy, side eyeing yandere caleb for the mention of broken fingers and kneecaps, fingering, pet names (I'll die by the hill of pips)

caleb who is selfish.

he wants you all to himself, and he doesn’t care what it takes or how bad of a person that makes him. he’ll do anything to have you. caleb will stoop to whatever depths, so when you start going on dates with this new guy, he wishes he was conflicted but he’s not.

he’s never tried to be a good guy, not when it comes to you. fair? sure, he thinks he’s quite fair. just? yeah, he has morals like anyone else, but when it comes to you? all bets are off and he will play dirty. there’s simply no other way to play when the stakes are this high and you.

caleb who has been climbing into bed with you almost every night for years.

surely that’s not meant to stop now, right? that just seems cruel and even more selfish than what he’s got going on because caleb can’t sleep if he’s not next to you, and you tell him the same thing, so why do you need to go on dates with this guy? what’s the point? you still kiss caleb goodnight, sometimes missing his cheek and sometimes it’s closer to the corner of his mouth. you still curl up with him on the couch and wear his sweaters around the house, something he watched carefully to see a change in, but things between you and him are the same, so surely you're not about to take all of that from him now? all because of some guy you met at work?

yet, said guy won’t leave, and caleb does not like it. he deals, he manages, but he does not like sharing because, once again, he is selfish.

caleb who meets the guy for the first time and instantly hates him. not even because he’s taking you out, it’s because he’s spineless. a boy that couldn’t even look him in the eyes to shake hands. a boy—plain and simple. caleb can’t help but feel bad for the guy, really, considering he’s taking you on a date, but you’ll come home to caleb at the end of the night and curl up with caleb in bed.

caleb is not above any of this because this guy is fleeting, he has to be. he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you like or want or need. not the way caleb does.

caleb who is waiting up for you when you come home.

it’s been a few months of dates with this guy, but caleb still gets his corner of the mouth kiss every other night, and last night he fell asleep to the feeling of your soft thigh thrown over his middle, so it should be fine, right? instead you come home in tears, and his first instinct is to break the man’s hands. he needs to start with the fingers, then maybe his wrists.

“pips, what’s wrong?”

you’re adamant it’s nothing. that nothing happened and you’re overreacting and caleb thinks sure, you can overreact sometimes but everyone can and that’s what he’s here for: to understand and react accordingly as well. but he cannot do that, caleb cannot protect you, if you do not tell him what’s wrong. sitting in his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck, he can’t understand what you’re mumbling. it comes out like something is wrong with me, which surely cannot be the case. caleb must have heard wrong. 

“something is wrong with you?” you nod. “nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. why are you saying that?” caleb takes a deep breath. “you gotta tell me what’s happening or i can’t help.”

by the time caleb listens to the half-mumbled words you manage to get out around an errant sniffles, he’s already decided hands, wrist, and kneecaps will need to be broken to atone for this because that guy has some nerve insinuating there’s a single thing wrong with you. just because you didn’t want to kiss him? or, you tell caleb that you were fine kissing him, but when he tried to take things further, that’s when there were issues.

honestly, it takes everything in caleb not to scoff. the guy's more of a coward than he had initially gauged if he thought he a) deserved more than a kiss, first of all, and b) something is wrong with you because when he shoved his hand down your pants you weren't wet.

the guy doesn't exactly sound like a romeo.

“i don’t trust him,” caleb says plainly. “i never did. you deserve better, and i should have never let you walk out of that door.” you only sniffle and caleb tampers down his anger and tries again. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know that?” nothing again, and caleb sighs. finally, “do you trust me?”

you nod, arms tightening around his neck.

“he touched you here?” caleb asks. his hand skates around your hip. you squirm in his lap but give him a small yes when his fingers dip between your thighs. “just touched or…”

nothing else, you’re adamant and caleb trusts you explicitly, but his blood is boiling hot and he just…he needs to be sure. caleb sits up, and you hmph, but he shushes you. he needs you to know there’s not a thing wrong with you, that this isn’t a you issue. he smooths his hand over the hem of your dress that rides up the back of your thighs when he moves, draping you over his lap this time, ass up.

“were you going to fuck him?” caleb gets a gut wrenching maybe in response as he marvels at the silky smooth expanse of the back of your legs. so, so pretty. “why?” he unfairly demands. “you liked him that much?”

you shake your head, breathing heavy against his thighs. “no, just wanted to know…what it felt like.”

“that’s what i’m here for, pips.” he says, waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. you gasp as he rucks up your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he groans at the sight of bright red panties, the curve of your ass settled pretty over his lap about to be his undoing. “you know that right? tell me you know that.” he pleads. "can i touch you?"

"please."

caleb wastes no time. he thumbs at your hole, over the red lace that's wet under his touch. “you ever fuck yourself, sweetheart?”

you whine his name in embarrassment, but eventually nod. he groans, imagining you in bed or the shower with your fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt. maybe while he's in the other room, or maybe in the shower right before you crawl into bed with him.

“good girl,” he mumbles and feels you relax more. “but what's all this about?” caleb pulls his thumb back, and pops it in his mouth. he groans. “thought he was adamant something was wrong and this pussy doesn’t get wet.” caleb tsks but sighs in relief when he realizes they guy really didn't get this far. “doesn’t seem a problem to me, so, then what is it? tell me the difference here, pips.”

he hears you stammer out "y–you, caleb," and feels satisfaction like a bat to the back of the head, making him dizzy. concussing him. caleb's fingers trace over edges of lace and soft skin. “so pretty, baby. will you sit still while i take a look?”

“why?”

“nothing is wrong, sweetheart. i just want to make sure he didn't hurt this pretty hole.”

he feels you shiver, and caleb can't help but grin.

that guy didn't stand a chance.

he slowly drags your underwear down, discarding them in his pocket for safe keeping. what greets him when he looks back is the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, actually. it’s jaw-dropping, and wet. so clearly wet from the way it looks, sticky and peeking out between plush thighs over his lap.

“my heart, pips, i cant take it.” caleb says as he grips your hips, then your ass. watching your skin bloom pink as he spreads you open to see more. “hold still. i know you know that you can ask anything of me, so if this hole is needy, you come to me now, understood?”

"you need someone to take care of you, not someone that's going to shove his hands down your pants and expect anything, got it?"

he spreads your pussy open, watching as it twitches under his touch and when he presses a finger against your hole, it gives easily. "tight and greedy," he tsks.

caleb cannot help but tease. your pussy is perfect and untouched. he plays with it, watching you respond. watching as you jump when he pushes just the tip of two fingers in. pink and so sweet, caleb's mouth waters. "she's so pretty, sweetheart. i do think we're gonna have an issue though. i dunno if i can fit into a tiny hole like this." he hooks his finger and uses it to stretch you open and you moan his name. "don't get fussy. we'll figure it out, pips."

he watches as you whimper and moan, working yourself into a near fit over the prodding of his fingers. the way he spreads you open, leaning close and letting his breath ghost over your twitching hole. watching for your reactions and never giving you enough.

“doesn't even seem like i need to train this little hole to only get wet for me, hm? seems she’s already taken care of that herself."

"you're so soft, sweetheart.”

"can i make you come? looks like you need it." he kisses the back of your head, and then your shoulder. mumbling, "promise I'll take such good care of you. how could i not? i've got the sweetest thing in my lap right now, all wet and whining...mhm, you are whining, pips, but that's okay. just let me..."

after readjusting your hips, you easily take two of his fingers, all the way to the knuckle and instead of imginging you doing this to yourself, caleb watches as his own fingers disappear into your cunt. you're a needy thing, too, and he groans. imagining you struggling to take his cock but you would because you're, "so good, baby. so good for me, just like that. does that feel good?"

watching as your thighs fall further apart, as you start to cry for him. for more. for him to kiss you, and caleb does. of course he does. he pulls his fingers out, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he heads for his bed.

"think i'm gonna fuck you, pips," caleb mumbles, bringing a hand down on your ass. you scold him, still limp-legged and breathing heavy. head heavy in the clouds. caleb grins and tosses you onto the bed. "you want that? then we'll have another look at that hole."

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 234.108.120 238.165.187

[jaeyundazed]

l. felix — non-disclosure.

SUMMARY: you're a simple woman. when stray kids come to town, you dress to impress. and, well—you're good-looking. what happens when an attractive individual attends the concert of her favorite band and catches the eye of the man she loves most?

TLDR: a classic idol x fan where felix decides he needs to fuck you, and does.

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

ꨄ︎: not even gotta hold you guys i saw that video on tiktok (pictured on the far right) and was like shit i GOTTA write abt this guy getting that NDA. fawk dude he's so fine like i don't even have anything else to add. anyway enjoy i hope i wrote felix good enough cus this is my first time writing abt him. happy reading! xo

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, protected sex (wow guys look at me go amirite), riding, (implied?) slut shaming, idol x fan, felix x stay, mentions of alcohol, fingering

“You’ve been requested to go backstage.”

Your face contorts, pale, wearing the shock that came with the security guard’s words. He pulled you aside, waited for there to be fewer people near, and just bluntly said it, like it meant nothing. You stand off to the side as the fans trickle out of the pit, staring blankly at the man before you.

When you showed up at the venue this morning, you didn’t think you’d even get a spot at the barricade. The chances were slim—they always are. But you managed, and soon you were leaning against the metal, looking directly up at them. Needless to say, it paid off. The members saw you, spoke with you, and gave you small interactions that made your heart flutter in every way. Something you’ll never forget.

But he was different. He wanted more.

Stolen glances, winks, walks to the edge of the stage in front of you, watching you watch him. The tips of his blonde strands of hair soaked with water from the spray of other members. He’d turn to you, smirk, make sure you knew it was you he was looking at. Lift his shirt, show off the abs beneath it. And when he came down to the floor, walked by hundreds of screaming fans, clawing at him and holding his hands, he stopped. Short and only for a moment, but in front of you, smiling.

When you practically whispered I’ll sign one, you didn’t think he heard it. Hell, even if he did, there wasn’t a chance he’d actually do it.

But here you are, letting a random security guard lead you down the tunnel behind the stage after waiting twenty minutes for the crowd to clear almost entirely. After watching him approach that same guard just before he climbed back up on the stage half an hour ago, saying something that you only figured out once you were pulled aside while exiting the pit.

Now you’re simply following, because you’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity.

What a nice room. Not a dressing room, not even a small room—a green room. A lounge. The lights are dim and cool, leather sofas set up in the corner, and a wet bar sits off to the side. A large flat-screen television hangs above the black countertop.

And a tall blonde man stands beside it, waiting.

“Hi,” his smooth, deep voice breaks the silence, and you look behind you. The guard is gone, and the door is shut.

“Hey,” the greeting leaves your lips sounding sheepish. You’re not shy, you’ve never been. You take tentative steps closer, briefly introduce yourself, let the corners of your lips relax into a faint smile.

“Felix,” he says back, like you don’t already know, and motions for you to sit with his head. You do. He turns his body to yours, still wearing the last outfit from the show. He didn’t bother to change—didn’t see it fit. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“What do you have?” you counter. He opens the wine cooler’s door for you. You carefully inspect its contents, crossing your legs. His eyes travel down, drawn to the movement, and linger there. You don’t regret opting for the fishnets. “My eyes are up here, and Merlot.”

“Good choice,” he smiles, voice silky, and grabs two glasses.

You watch him with his small, toned figure, hair dry and reaching just above his shoulders. He opens the bottle with ease, pouring it into the two glasses in equal parts. His method is so natural, like he’s used to it. You know he’s rich—he always has been. And it doesn’t always show.

But with his smooth voice and relaxed demeanor, paired with his practiced mannerisms, you quickly realize how that very fact is true.

He’s expensive. His aura is.

When he gingerly hands you the glass, you mutter a soft thank you. He sits just beside you, leaving almost no space between, and proves that belief, his scent so intoxicating, despite having been on stage so soon prior. Leans back against the leather cushion with the freshly-poured glass in one hand as the other arm stretches out atop the back of the couch behind you. He’s classy and composed, contrasting his personality on the stage. One leg drapes over the other, and his eyes scan you—your outfit, chosen just right after months of trial and error. You’re certain now that the careful consideration paid off.

“So,” you take a sip, marveling at the rich taste, “why did you bring me back here?”

“A few reasons,” he replies, eyes trained on you as he, too, sips his wine. “I’m attracted to you,” he starts. “Saw you once and couldn’t keep my eyes off.” His lips press into a grin when he notices the shift in your expression—subtle, but enough to tell him that whatever he’s doing is working. “And you implied that you’d do this.”

Your eyebrow twitches. “So, you did hear that.”

“Of course,” he confirms, voice inviting, flirtier, his accent thicker.

You scan the room, notice how dark it is. The mood is set almost perfectly, the faintest noise of some wordless jazz playing from somewhere in the room. The door is locked, and you wonder how he managed to lock it. You figure you were too mesmerized by him to notice earlier. The way he walked around so confidently, each stride smooth, almost calculated.

It’s all so intricate, like it was set up this way intentionally, as if this wasn’t the first time any of the eight members had brought someone inside somewhere like this before. And oddly enough, none of them have passed by, or knocked, or shown signs of concern. Like it’s an unspoken rule. All in all, it’s only you and Felix in this room for the foreseeable future. It’s perfect for—well, what you’re about to do.

Or hope to.

He’s calm, too calm. So relaxed in his demeanor, like he’s either done this before or is just that confident. Though you’re also quite comfortable, at least to some extent, you know it’s the opposite deep down. You’re not exchanging flirtatious words with some guy. It’s Felix Lee—someone you’ve pined for and worshipped for years, yearning for the opportunity to be this close to him, to be so close to making your little fantasies come true. As your leg bounces up and down, he knows. He knows you’re putting up a front, and it’s almost obvious.

“You nervous?” he asks, the tips of his fingers tapping on the cushion. The soft noise as they hit the leather rings in your head.

You chuckle. Take a sip of your wine. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He laughs. “Alright, then,” he grins, tongue poking into his cheek.

“Yeah, Sherlock. I’m nervous,” you finally add. You turn your head, study his face, let your eyes linger on his before you look away and tap the rim of the glass with your nail. “You’re unattainable to anyone in that crowd. To me. Have been for years,” you take another sip. “But once, for a split second, you’re not. You look at someone, and they think they have a chance.”

He doesn’t speak. You turn again.

“And then, you look at me,” your finger keeps drumming on the glass. The sound prevails. “I might be a fan, but I’m not delusional. There’s no way in hell,” you tilt your head, “right?”

Still, he’s quiet. Working on his drink. Staring.

“Wrong,” you narrow your eyes. Tilting your head back, you finish off the wine. Place the empty glass carefully on the table. Your eyes drift back to his. “That security guard pulls me aside, and suddenly—oh,” you gasp and raise your eyebrows for emphasis, opening your mouth to feign surprise, “there is a chance. And it’s not a delusion.” You watch him swallow. “So yeah—one could probably say I’m a little on edge.”

Something shifts in his eyes.

He sets the drink down. He doesn’t break eye contact. He’s studying. Making sense of everything you said, everything you admitted. Your body language—how, at some point, you gained enough confidence to point out how obvious it is.

Now, silence. You know what he wants, what he’s thinking. You want it, too. He already knows. He’s known since he first spotted you. Since he spotted the small, yellow BbokAri dangling at your waist.

Since you told him you’d do whatever he wanted and sign the right to talk about it away, no questions asked.

He leans in, slowly, giving you an out. But you don’t take it. You let him kiss you, soft at first. Feel the warmth as you adjust to it—his lips on yours.

Without warning, it deepens. His head tilts further, tongue brushes against your lips. Pushes past them. Your hand reaches for and grips his shoulder, tight, as his arm slides down the cushion and pulls you in by the lower back. You’re in his lap, hands on his shoulders, and you can feel the tips of his hair brushing against your fingers. He’s kissing you like it means something, desperate, but not messy—just hard, like you’ll disappear if he lets up. Like he has something to prove. He’s not rushing, not itching to get you out of your clothes.

Well, he is, but he can restrain himself.

The wine was liquid confidence. Just enough to keep you on top, in control of yourself, wanting more without fixating on how unfathomable it all is. Who you’re grinding your hips on, humming against his lips while his hands keep you firm in your place by the waist.

It’s hot. You can still hear the crowd filing out of the stadium. You wonder if anyone saw. If anyone noticed the guard taking you back here. If they’d keep quiet or take to social media and spill every last detail they know and put you both in jeopardy. You don’t care.

His hands smooth over the black tube top adorning your torso. The fabric stretches. Your hands find a path of their own, running down his chest, fingertips grazing and loosening the buttons holding his vest together. They stop at his belt. Leather. Metal gems cold to the touch.

“You know,” you hum against his mouth, “this vest is practically useless with nothing under it.”

He laughs, breathy, hand toying with the plush attached to your waist. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly.”

His eyes scan your body again. His lap is warm. Firm. You feel it beneath you, straining, growing. You know. He knows. Maybe you don’t need to ditch the clothes. They look good—really good. God knows they served their purpose, because they got you backstage and wrapped around his finger (or thighs, for that matter).

He bunches up the black pleated skirt, lifting it just enough to reveal what’s under it, or the lack thereof. Stockings. Garters. They fuck with his head—perhaps even more. He grins, sticks his tongue in his cheek, huffs out a laugh.

You reach for your shoulder shrug first.

“Leave it on,” he says. “All of it.”

You figured he was done with the clothes. Now, you grin—he likes them. Maybe too much. Oh, well.

Then, his hand is between your legs, and his eyes are back on yours. His fingers slip beneath you, feel the warmth and arousal bleeding through the thin black fabric. His lips press into a smirk, downturned—proud. All the while, his eyes fixate on your face, tense and flushed. For him.

God, he’s hot.

You notice he’s not particularly vocal. You’re okay with that. You’re wet, needy, grinding against his hand for friction, and he doesn’t need to say it out loud to make it true—you both already know it. There’s nothing else you can do to relieve the ache with your legs so spread apart. And then, his fingers are pulling the panties aside. They’re dragging along you, bare. Coaxing more from you.

Your hands fumble with his belt. You kiss him again, alleviate some of the tension, pull the belt from its loops, and toss it aside. Unbutton his checkered jeans and unzip them, just enough to get at his cock. Stroke it once, twice, still rolling your hips into his hand until his fingers push inside. Your free hand runs along his front and up to his shoulder, palm grazing the abs beneath it. Then, a moan. Deep. And you’re kissing him harder.

His fingers are pushing in and pulling out, slowly, deliberately. His other hand shoves into his pocket, searching until it comes out with something between his index and middle fingers. You don’t see it, but you hear the crinkle of a wrapper, and you know what it is. It doesn’t take rocket science to figure it out.

He removes his hand entirely, and you whine. You break away and sit up, watch him secure the condom, swallow thickly. You’ve already gone too far for second thoughts.

He grips your waist, and you look down at him. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead. You tug at the red knit shrug on your shoulders, smooth your hands over the skirt.

“Won’t this be bad for your back?” you note, pointing out the way he’s sitting, how you’re on top of him.

“Someone did their research.”

You roll your eyes. “Everyone knows about it, Felix.”

He laughs. “I’ll be fine.”

Then, he lifts you, lines himself up, and lets you sink into his lap—he’d rather show than tell. Your mouth hangs open, eyes shut, breaths leaving heavy. You hear him, too, senses heightened.

“Shit,” you whisper and lean forward, opening your eyes, staring at him. Through him. Pleading silently, not knowing what for—something, anything, just to distract from everything overwhelming your mind and body. He shrugs the vest completely off.

He moves you. Slow at first, a guide. Helping to give you the strength you need to continue, to do it yourself. You’re quick to adjust. Experienced enough to take the wheel from there. Reality washes over you, forcing you to realize what you’re doing, what you’ve become in such a short time, no more than one hour. You push it down; it’s not going to spoil the moment.

You’re gripping his shoulder again, bare, warm. Fingers threaded in his hair, needing to be closer. Soft, small hands staple to your sides, digging into the black fabric stretching around your midsection, causing it to lift, exposing more skin. His palms slide down, feel it: its warmth—he groans.

His mouth envelopes yours, tongue shoves past your lips, gives you no room to breathe. Still, it’s not hurried—it’s just deep, hungry, yet slow. Matching the pace you’re moving at. Tentative rolls of your hips, offering just enough of a tease to count it as such, but not enough to make the need for more painful. Enough for him to pull back, catch his breath.

You’re riding him, thoroughly, for real. Not in a fantasy, a daydream, a daze—it’s real, him grinning proudly up at you, knowing the shortcomings of breath and small whimpers are yours, because of him. Half-lidded eyes staring up at you, every last sensation and emotion showing behind his gaze. Freckles bleeding through the faded makeup in the soft glow of the light. He’s beautifully quiet, taking you in, no need to speak.

You know he loves it—he doesn’t have to say it.

He shifts beneath you, and you moan. “Fuck, right there,” you whisper, and he smiles. He already knew before that it would evoke that reaction, almost like some sort of fucked up muscle memory.

“You knew I’d come back here and do this, didn’t you?” you accuse, droplets of sweat dripping down your face, mascara threatening to run, lipstick nearly gone but slightly smudged. “You knew from the start.”

“You looked the part,” he simply replies like it’s normal, like he isn’t admitting to categorizing you as someone he could score with from the moment he first saw you in the crowd.

“Are you calling me some kind of slut, or something?” you furrow your brows, smiling slightly, almost amused.

“When did I say that?”

“You basically implied it.”

“Enough talking,” he sighs and kisses you again, harder, rougher. A hand moves to your knee, wrapped in the fishnet pattern, and tugs it closer. Pulls you in, sinks you further, forces your body to practically fall on top of his. It strains his back—you hear his soft intake of breath and feel him try to adjust, but he doesn’t let you protest.

Instead, he moves. Starts pushing his hips up to meet yours. It’s something he doesn’t typically do when he’s got a girl backstage—put in work. He doesn’t have to, not when they’re so disgustingly obsessed with the idea of him that they’ll do anything just to get themselves off. And especially not with the back pain that comes with it. But you’re pushing it. Since you walked through the door, you’ve acknowledged the irrationality of your being there, how reckless it is, pointed out the power dynamic, and clocked him for pushing a stereotype on you that, frankly, isn’t entirely wrong. You’ve proven you’re more than just a pretty face—you have a brain up there. Thoughts of your own.

Ones that challenge him and force him to take matters into his own hands, because if he doesn’t, he and you will run out of time.

So he grabs you tighter, fucks you harder, and lets his fingers threaten to tear the stockings on your legs from the pressure he puts on them. You breathe heavier, grip his hair tighter, press your nails—dark red, chosen specifically for the tour—into his shoulder, grounding yourself, grounding him.

Finally, you hit your ceiling. The feeling overwhelms your body, a mixture of pleasure and pain from him still moving, despite the orgasm shooting through you. A soft, choked-out Lix comes from your mouth, amongst various strings of profanities and noises akin to whines. He doesn’t let people call him such, especially not some girl he brought backstage for a quick fuck, but the desperation and satisfaction in your voice let you become an exception. And truthfully, it was only a result of you choking on your words. All in all, it brings him with you—the nickname, and the pressure from you tightening around him. You wish you could’ve felt more—all of him, but unless you want to be in deeper shit, the pulse alone will have to do.

You collapse. Head buried in his shoulder, arms resting where they lie, unmoving. The room is silent, save for breathing, raw and loud, and the jazz that still plays from the non-located speaker. You’re brought out of the jaded state when you feel tugging at your waist, not directly, but you feel your skirt shifting.

Felix is tugging at the plush again. He looks down, chuckles to himself as a thought pops into his head. He moves back up, fixes his gaze on your face, flushed.

“You think he liked the show?”

You scoff. “What an odd thing to ask. And wrong,” you roll your eyes, “everyone knows BbokAri is a girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, and he silences you by kissing you again. It’s soft and lasts for a few moments. Almost intimate. And then he pulls away. Slowly. Like he’s savoring it.

You lock eyes with him. The smile you once donned fades. You notice something in his eye, a flicker. Something unknown, but nothing you’re willing to explore. Nothing you want to get yourself wrapped up in. You clear your throat, and the trance breaks.

“...You should go,” he finally says.

“Yeah,” you nod.

You carefully climb out of his lap, hiss at the emptiness, and slide your feet down to the floor. And you stand. Fix the practically discarded underwear, covering the mess beneath it. Enough to feel when you stand or walk, but not enough to be visible when the skirt is pulled down. You smooth it down. It does the job.

In the same fraction of time, he fixes himself up, stands, and disposes of the waste. You’re brushing through your hair with your fingers absentmindedly, lost in thought, when you feel his presence beside you again. He doesn’t come back empty-handed. Papers. A thin stack. You know what they are. What it is. You swallow.

He wordlessly hands you a pen. You take it and the papers. Place them together on the coffee table. Kneel beside it, read through the words. It’s a jumbled-up string of complex terms and phrases—a fancy way of saying you’ll never speak a word of what happened to another person. That this, for all intents and purposes, didn’t happen.

Your eyes flash up at him. His expression remains intact. There’s no sign of regret, no remorse. No emotion. His eyes are blank. No life like they had for the split second before you stood. He’s waiting, plain and simple.

You look back down and sign your name in smooth, black ink. It looks back at you almost tauntingly. Proof you’ve done something that could take down a reputation, a career, a company. Written on paper, set in stone.

You slide the contract forward, and he takes the pen. Signs his own name alongside yours without hesitation. You study it, eventually making out the Y and B amongst the swirls. You breathe, making brief eye contact once more, and reluctantly stand up.

“I just go now, right?”

“Mm,” he hums.

“Okay.”

You can’t find your footing to walk off just yet.

The adrenaline has worn off. The wine has run its course. All that remains is the vulnerability you’re trying not to show. But you know it does, and you don’t want it to. Just for a few minutes more, you need to keep the facade up. Be okay with giving him all of you and walking away, never to mention it again.

Yet no matter how much you’ll try to forget, with every photo you see, every video you watch, and every moment you lay eyes on him, you’ll remember.

He takes a breath and turns around, walking toward the sink. Your eyes don’t follow him. You keep staring forward. Let yourself fall back into a daze. Lost in your head, yet no thoughts come to mind. Plain emptiness, like a prison.

He suddenly comes back into view, and you don’t know what he did, why he went over in the first place. You snap back into reality. He’s silent, looking into your eyes with a somber expression, one you haven’t seen, nor do you expect to. You feel him place something in your hand, warm, slightly damp. You look down. A towel—rag, more like. Brows creased, you look up.

“There’s a bathroom around the corner.” His voice is soft. Comforting. “If you’re not comfortable with that, you can use it to clean up at home, or wherever you need.”

Your lips twitch, almost into a smile.

“Thank you.”

He steps closer, and his hand makes its way up the right side of your face, fingers settling beneath your ear and thumb on your cheek. His gaze shifts between your eyes. He leans down. Slots his lips with yours gently, and again, intimately. Like it means something. And he breaks it as slowly as it began. Keeps his eyes trained on yours.

You see it again. The flicker.

Again, you ignore it.

“I don’t do that for anyone.”

His voice is soft, sincere. You let the words hit you, process entirely, resonate in your mind. Let them linger in the air between you as his hand slides down your face and hangs back at his side. He won’t say anything more. You won’t respond. You’ll take the kiss for what it is—an anomaly. Acknowledge it and walk away, because you refuse to let yourself believe you can truly stand out from the rest.

You give him a confirming nod and make way for the door. Unlock it and turn the knob. Step into the doorway. For a moment, you contemplate just going. But you turn back. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t changed his expression. Hasn’t spoken. You give him a final look. One he solemnly returns. A goodbye.

Or perhaps, see you later.

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[checkeredflagggs]

Sweet Tooth

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

summary: Alex and Charles meet the sweetest girl they know. Now how to get that sweetheart for themselves?

a/n: wow this one fought me the entire time I was trying to write it…

a/n2: my longest piece and full of visions of the future

a/n3: thanks @sinofwriting and @ice-man-goes-bwoah for being sounding boards! definitely helped me get this thing done

Masterlist

Private Messages, Charles and Alexandra (November)

charles_leclerc posted a story, alexandrasaintmleux posted 2 stories

[a sweet treat needed][🌈][🍭🍬]

user1 replied a candy store?

user2 replied that looks good!

user3 replied I’ll give you some candy 🥵

user4 replied but what about your diet??

pierregasly replied that bad huh?

↳charles_leclerc it was Alex’s idea

↳pierregasly so it’s really bad!

↳charles_leclerc yes

user5 replied this is one of the best eff you’s I’ve ever seen

user6 replied you’re in Vegas!!

user7 replied when did you get here??

user8 replied watch out for Charles!!

arthur_leclerc replied hows he doing?

↳alexandrasaintmleux well he barely even glanced at the Ferrari hoodie before we left the hotel…

↳arthur_leclerc damn…you guys staying there for a while then?

↳alexandrasaintmleux for a couple of days at least

↳arthur_leclerc good

user9 replied everything there looks so good..

user10 replied Yum 🤤 (and not just the candy 😉)

user11 replied oh I love that store

Bluesky

user12: ELVIS WEDDING??

↳user13: not something I had on my bingo card for this year…

↳user12: right???

user14: ok but who got married??

↳user15: I’m saying max and Kelly — gotta celebrate that 4x win

↳user14: oh that’s a good thought

↳user16: I always always say that Lando is the type to get drunk married in Vegas

↳user14: he does have that type of energy doesn’t he??

↳user17: idk but Oscar has that type of secretive energy that would absolutely get married in Vegas

↳user14: oh my god he does!

user18: ok give us absolutely nothing!

↳user19: right??? This gives us nothing

↳user18: seriously!

Private Messages, Y/N and BFF (November)

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (November)

Bluesky

user20: Jesus I guess this is the year of Vegas weddings since it seems like every one of them is getting married there

user21: brb moving to Vegas to catch a f1 driver husband

user22: I wanna know why this is such a big deal??

↳user23: same! Like yeah some drivers are gonna stay an extra day or 2! It’s Vegas and they have a break before the end of the season!

↳user24: I’m guessing it has something to do with the gossip reported earlier in the week — that one of the drivers got married by an Elvis impersonator

↳user25: come on guys I thought we all agreed that deuxmoi never tells the truth

user26: forget Charles and Alexandra - I want more Leo!!

↳user27: LEO LEO LEO

↳user28: LEO LEO LEO

user29: ok but am I the only one who wants it to be an elopement??

↳user30: no no no continue please 🙏

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (November)

cl16fans

liked by user, user, yn, and 928,724 others

cl16fans: and it’s a strong end of the season for Charles! P2 and P3!

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user31: such a tortured soul..

↳user32: right?? P3 and he still looks so unhappy…

user33: he changed his tune fast after that though…

↳user34: what do you mean?

↳user33: after the interviews he meant up with Alex and it looked like they were texting someone

↳user35: omg im glad someone else caught that — they were like glowing and giggling

↳user33: I wonder just who has them acting like teenagers in love?

↳user35: especially when they’re right next to each???

yn: he looks good on the podium…

↳user36: he does!

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (December)

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (December)

Phone Call, Alexandra and y/n (January)

Private Messages, Charles and Alexandra (January)

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc, and 1,824,924 others

charles_leclerc: what an electrifying night ♥️ Forza Ferrari Sempre ♥️

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user37: Forza Ferrari Sempre!!

↳user38: this is our year!

alexandrasaintmleux: so handsome ♥️

↳charles_leclerc: ehehe

yn: pretty boy liked by charles_leclerc

↳user39: why is Charles liking a random comment about him??

lewishamilton: Forza Ferrari Sempre ♥️

pierregasly: slacking off there calmar?

↳charles_leclerc: sharpening the mind actually

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (February)

Call Logs — Charles and y/n, Alexandra and y/n (March)

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (May)

Bluesky

user50: breaking news —the sky is blue??

↳user51: right?? Like of course he’s probably gonna be in the jewelry store??

user52: ok but am I the only one that thinks this is part of a bigger picture??

↳user53: Yes. Yes you are

↳user52: no no no listen

↳user52: last November it was said that a driver got married in Vegas and then Charles and Alexandra stayed longer then they usually do

↳user52: then remember the both of them kept getting caught texting someone else? And they were all giggly and blushy??

↳user52: add in the random post from Christmas where Charles thanked his ‘mon amour’ for the gift for Leo? He always calls Alexandra his Alex — not Mon amour

↳user52: and in a stretch — there’s a random account that they both respond too when they post — yn!

↳user52: in conclusion — Charles (and maybe Alex?) got married in Vegas last year to yn and they’re still talking to her

↳user53: nurse she’s out again…

user54: oh to be Charles’ girlfriend who he buys jewelry for…

user55: he’s glowing!

↳user56: right? Idk who he’s buying the jewelry for — he’s just so happy!

↳user57: gotta take that happiness where he can get it….

↳user58: oh don’t remind me…

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (June)

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 928,183 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux

f1gossip: Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux spotted at lunch with a mysterious female at Romantic Restaurant today. Who is this mysterious female and what does this mean?

view all comments

user52: *clears throat* I’ll be accepting your apologies now

↳user53: this means nothing

user59: this is gonna be my new obsession I just know it…

↳user60: right??? I need to know absolutely everything about this

user61: ok where are the obsessive trackers? Who is she??

↳user62: it looks like it’s yn! She’s a business student in America that works in a candy store! She’s been commenting on their socials a lot since January

↳user61: ok I know I asked for it but good lord that was fast…

↳user62: I was bored and interested 🤷🏽‍♀️

user63: a business student?? She’s got those smartie genes then

user64: I’m gonna need a play by play on how this happened!

↳user65: big mood. This is such a random pairing…

user66: whoever she is, she just needs to keep doing what she’s doing. Charles hasn’t been this close to the WDC ever!

↳user67: that’s exactly what I was thinking!

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (August)

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yn, maxverstappen1, and 1,724,823 others

charles_leclerc: Vegas, a home away from home. I’m so glad to be able to bring home another win this year here, for everyone watching ♥️

view all comments

user68: OMG OMG OMG ITS HAPPENINGS

↳user69: Shut it shut it shut it!! Don’t tempt fate!

pierregasly: mega race today Charles!

user70: CL16 WDC INCOMING

↳user71: 1 more win Charles! You can do it!

maxverstappen1: congrats Charles!

user72: he smoked them today!

↳user73: as a Charles fan it was a very boring race 😂

↳user74: I don’t even care. Here’s for a boring season then if he wins

alexandrasaintmleux: congratulations ♥️ liked by charles_leclerc

yn: such a fantastic race babe liked by charles_leclerc

↳user75: babe?!?

↳user76: ITS HAPPENING!!

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (November)

f1

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel, oscarpiastri, and 2,823,913 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1: And our 2025 World’s Driving Champion is Charles Leclerc!

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alexandrasaintmleux: mon champion ♥️♥️ liked by charles_leclerc

yn: always amazing to watch you do your thing — and even better to watch you win 💚 liked by charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: no one I’d rather lose too. congrats charles

user77: HE DID IT

↳user78: HE FINALLY DID JT!!

oscarpiastri: congrats mate

user79: I just scared my family with how loud I screamed but he did it!!

↳user80: same

↳user81: same

↳user82: Same

sebastianvettel: Very well deserved. Well done Charles

user83: 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

kimimatiasraikkonen: congrats

user84: 🎉🎉🎉

jensonbutton: Well done mate!

user85: ok but my favorite part of this watching all the old champions come welcome the newest one to the club liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, yn

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yn, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly, and 2,913,183 others

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, yn

charles_leclerc: This is everything that I’ve ever wanted, everything that I’ve worked for since I was a little kid. Thank you to my family for all the support, for Ferrari for the amazing season, and to my amazing wives — it might have been a drunken decision to marry you but it could never be considered a mistake.

view all comments

user86: I’m not crying are you crying why is it raining inside my house right now??

user87: I still can’t believe it…

maxverstappen1: a Vegas wedding huh??

↳charles_leclerc: the best thing that ever happened to me!

↳yn: sap

↳charles_leclerc: only for you two

↳alexandrasaintmleux: you get used to it

↳yn: i don’t know if I want to… liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux

↳maxverstappen1: really? on my comment thread??

arthur_leclerc: oh no Charles…

↳charles_leclerc: what??

↳arthur_leclerc: maman…

↳alexandrasaintmleux: You did remember to tell your mother about us right? Right??

↳charles_leclerc: uh oh…

↳yn: 🤦🏻‍♀️

↳user88: a world champion and still “I am stupid” liked by yn, alexandrasaintmleux

user89: he’s married??? 2x over???

↳user90: I can’t believe he found a way to overshadow his one WDC win…

↳user91: right??

↳user92: I wanna know how he got 2 10s to go out with his mid level ass?

↳user90: you did NOT just call Charles Leclerc MID???

Private Messages, Charles/Alexandra and y/n (January)

lec_ice_cream

liked by yn, oscarpiastri, olliebearman, and 2,823,193 others

lec_ice_cream: Ferrari red and Leclerc ice cream is a winning combo! Coming soon!

view all comments

user91: a Leclerc store??

↳user92: I’m so there. The employees are scared cause I’m so early but I’m there

↳lec_ice_cream: A+ for the meme but we are actually gonna have to ask you to leave!

↳user92: omg lec admin I love you liked by lec_ice_cream

oscarpiastri: is there gonna be a family discount?

↳olliebearman: or like a favorite son discount??

↳oscarpiastri: 🤨

↳lec_ice_cream: uh oh the girls are fighting…

↳user93: 🍿

user94: I’ve had the lec admin for 1 post but if anything happened to them I’d kill everyone then myself…

↳lec_ice_cream: big mood…

↳user95: lec admin id die for you

↳user96: I’d kill for you

↳user97: I’m just asking when I can get some ice cream??

↳lec_ice_cream: I’m reporting all of you but user97!

user98: it’s comforting that even after everything he’s still going on his random side quests…

↳user99: it is!!

user100: ok I’ve got money that it’s yn who is gonna be running the store!

↳user101: you really think that he’d buy a business just to dump all the work on his wife??

↳lec_ice_cream: right?? Who’d do that??

↳lec_ice_cream: charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc: …I am stupid…

↳user102: this is gonna be the most amazing thing this year…

Taglist

Please interact with my taglist post if you want to join — I don’t always check the notes on the individual posts

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[p1astr81]

second dad zone is so cute omg, i love it. can you write the reader's reaction when oscar tells her what isla said? and isla calls him dad again in front of her. thanks queen <3

OOOOOH OSCAR PIASTRI POLEEEEEE

I started tearing up writing this idk why

It was nearing six in the afternoon when you finally got home. You felt bad. You told Oscar it would just be a few hours. It was never meant to take that long.

You walked in the door to see Oscar with his phone in his hand, standing facing the empty hallway. He smiled when he saw you, greeting you with a small, “hey baby,” and a peck to your cheek. You immediately started apologizing for the tardiness, for not following up, for taking up his weekend off.

He quickly dismissed your apologies. “It’s alright. I had fun with her today.” He smiled. “And I think she called me dad?”

You furrowed your brows. “Think?”

“Yeah, she said ‘you’re such a good dad,’ while we were watching tv.” his eyes shined with optimism.

But yours flickered with hesitation. “Aw.” You cooed, but he could tell something was off.

“What is it?” He questioned, taking a glance down the hallway.

You bit your cheek. “Life is unpredictable.” You said after a moments silence. “I don’t want her to get attached and then I have to take another father figure away from her.” You shook your head. “Not that I’m anticipating for us to break up, because believe me that’s the last thing I want, but you know.” You paused. “Anything can happen.”

He understood. He always did. And he always knew how to ease your worries. “Then I guess I’ll just have to marry you to make it harder for us to break up.” He chuckled, forgetting everything else as he leaned over to kiss you.

A screech pulled you apart. “Mumma!” Isla cheered, sprinting down the hall in one of her princess dresses. She clung onto your leg, and you hoisted her into your arms.

“Lando told me you guys weren’t just friends! I knew he was right!” She declared, eyes darting between the two of you as if daring you to deny her claims.

Oscar chuckled, speaking before you got the chance. “You caught us, Issy bug.”

“What are you all dressed up for, love?” You changed the topic.

“Oscar and I played dress up!”

“It was more of a fashion show.” He shrugged.

The next time he dropped by was over a week later.

You were with isla in the playroom, playing with Barbie’s when he called out. She jumped up, little legs rushing behind you as you made your way to the entryway to greet him.

Just before you reached him, isla pushed you out of the way. She tried her best to wrap her arms around his legs. He picked her up while giggles spilled from her lips. “How have my girls been?” He asked, kissing Isla’s head and then your cheek.

“I’ve-“

“Daddy can we go to the park?!” Isla interrupted, big eyes full of hope looking up at him.

Your lips curved in a pout, tears welling in your eyes.

Isla noticed because of course she did. She frowned. “Mummy what’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing, baby. I think the park sounds nice.” You smiled and chuckled. Isla giggled hearing that, clapping her hands together.

In the car, you occupied her with some toys.

“She called you daddy.” You recalled in hushed tones like you couldn’t believe it.

He glanced at you, a small smile warming his lips. “Is that alright?”

You nodded. “If it’s alright with you.”

In response, he took your hand in his and kissed the back of your hand.

“Lando said you’re going to get married. What does that mean?”

Oscar had to keep his laughter to himself. “It means you and mummy get to dress like real princesses.” He told her, looking at her in the rear view mirror. He watched as her eyes lit up.

“Are you getting married soon?” She gasped.

Your face burned, and you hid behind your hand. “I think so, honey.” Oscar replied, squeezing your hand.

The back seat erupted in screeching cheers.

“We’ve gotta keep him away from her before he tells her something really bad.”

You had your worries going into this, especially when Oscar first told you isla called him ‘dad’. But as you watched him play hide and seek with her on the playground, you knew everything would be just fine.

[b1eedthefreak]

hii, I absolutely love your writing, I'm not used to requesting but I just had this idea and ugggghhh!!!

prison era, merle (or anyone else) teasing daryl after hearing reader moan his name all night, asking how he managed to get with someone like her, and daryl getting very confused because last night he was on watch and didn't see her at all, then he realizes that she were touching herself thinking about him and smut ensues lololol

maybe I'm crazy and this makes no sense I'm sorryyyy love ur blog keep the good work <3

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Sweet Sound

⌇daryl dixon x reader

⌇summary: merle teases daryl after hearing you moaning his name all night. the only problem is, daryl wasn’t with you at all last night

⌇warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering

⌇word count: 1.9k

a/n my rides here! gotta go! (daryl’s my ride) also your request was so much fun to write omg??? feel free to send more your creativity is amazing!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❀ ⋆｡˚ ˚｡⋆❀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Daryl didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. Not because he was on watch, though he was, posted up in the guard tower with a rifle and a thermos of weak coffee, but because when the sun started crawling up and the shift changed, Merle came sauntering past with a shit eating grin, cigarette in his teeth.

“Morning, little brother.”

Daryl stiffened at the rasp behind him. He turned to see Merle, leaning against the fence with a shit eating grin and a fresh cigarette in hand. The smirk on his older brother’s face was never a good sign.

“Merle,” Daryl muttered, already sighing.

“You look like hell,” Merle said with a laugh. “That watch last night kick your ass, or did your sweet little girlfriend?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “What?”

Merle raised a brow, clearly enjoying himself now. “Oh, don’t act coy. I know what I heard.” He leaned in a little. “Was down near the south block. Heard somethin’ real pretty echoin’ through the vents. Thought a walker got in for a sec. Turns out it was just your girl, moanin’ your name like a hymn. Sounded like a damn choir.”

Daryl blinked at Merle, processing. “What’re you sayin’?”

Merle took another drag, grinning around the smoke. “I’m sayin’ she was touchin’ herself, baby brother. Thinkin’ about you, from the sound of it.” He gave a low whistle. “Can’t say I blame her. You been holdin’ out on us. How the hell’d you get a girl like that, huh?”

Daryl’s face was confused.

“I was on watch,” he muttered. “Didn’t even see her last night.”

Merle clapped a hand on his back, hard. “Then she’s got one hell of an imagination.” He let out a bark of laughter. “Shit, Daryl. You better marry that girl. She’s out here singin’ love songs with your name and you don’t even know.”

Daryl muttered a few curses and started walking away, ignoring Merle’s hoots and hollers behind him.

But he’d been on watch all night. He hadn’t even seen you.

Now, half an hour later, he was standing in the open doorway of your cell, his hand still resting on the curtain, hearing the quiet hum of your voice as you folded laundry on the bed. You looked like nothing had happened. Hair pulled up in a little clip, one of his old shirts hanging off your shoulder, bare legs tucked under you as you hummed a soft tune. He almost didn’t want to ask. Almost didn’t want to break the moment.

But he had to know.

“Baby?”

You turned instantly at the sound of his voice, brightening like the sun. “Daryl! I was wondering when you’d get back!”

He stepped in slowly, boots dragging a little as he moved closer. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

You tilted your head, curious.

His eyes watched yours. “That true? What Merle said?”

Your smile faded just a little. “What… what did he say?”

“Said you were sayin’ my name last night.” His voice was low, cautious, like he didn’t want to embarrass you, but the image of it was burning in his head. “Said you were… touchin’ yourself. Real quiet. Sounded like you didn’t want anyone to hear.”

You blinked, stunned still for a second. Then your cheeks went hot, and your eyes darted down to the rumpled pile of clothes on your lap.

Daryl stepped closer.

“Is it true, baby?”

You nodded, barely. Voice small. “I missed you.”

God, that about wrecked him.

“Sweet girl,” he rasped, crouching down in front of you like you were something fragile he didn’t dare touch too hard. “You really wanted me that bad, huh?”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy now, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“I just— I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it was late, and I was all alone and you weren’t gonna be back until morning and—”

“Shh,” he hushed you softly, cupping your cheek. “You don’t gotta explain, baby. Nothin’ wrong with missin’ me. Just…”

His thumb traced your jaw, breath catching.

“Show me.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I wanna see.” He leaned in, whispering like it was something sacred. “Wanna see how you touched yourself. Just like you did last night. I need to know what it looked like. What you sounded like when you were thinkin’ ‘bout me.”

You stared at him, wide eyed, and then nodded slowly, cheeks still pink but your thighs pressing together now. You laid back on the bed, curling your fingers into the hem of your shorts and easing them down your hips.

Daryl stood and reached behind him, pulling the curtain closed in one slow motion. The room felt warmer now. Closer. Safe.

You settled into the sheets, shirt still on, bare beneath, knees parting just enough. You slid your fingers down your belly, breath hitching as you got closer to where you needed it.

Daryl sat down on the edge of the bed, gaze locked on your every movement, and you swore he didn’t blink once. His hands were braced on his knees, jaw clenched tight, the bulge in his jeans impossible to ignore.

You let out a soft sigh as your fingers reached your clit, stroking light circles just like last night, and your eyes fluttered closed.

Then you heard it, Daryl’s voice, hoarse and low. “Eyes on me baby.”

You looked up, mouth parted, breath shaky.

“Tha’s it,” he murmured. “Show me how bad you wanted it.”

You moved your hand slower, more deliberately now, showing him every little tremble, every shift of your hips. The way your thighs flexed, the way your breath caught when you rubbed just a little harder.

“Say my name,” he whispered, fingers tightening around his own thigh. “Like you did last night.”

“Daryl,” you moaned, breathy and desperate. “Fuck…”

He grunted at that, the sound wrecking him from the inside out. “You think about me touchin’ you like that?”

You nodded, barely able to speak.

“You think about my mouth?” he asked, already lowering himself onto the mattress, eyes never leaving yours. “How bad baby?”

“S-so bad. I needed you—”

“You got me now,” he cut in, hands curling around your thighs as he pulled you to the edge of the bed. “Ain’t gonna make you wait.”

He didn’t hesitate. One strong arm wrapped around your thigh, the other hand spreading you open with a care that made you melt, and his mouth was on you before you could even gasp. He moaned into you like it was his first taste of heaven. Slow, deep licks, like he was drinking you in. His tongue dragged through your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit like he’d been dreaming of this every night since the world ended.

You were trembling already, moaning his name over and over, fingers tangling in his hair.

He looked up at you, voice wrecked and full of awe. “You sound so fuckin’ pretty baby. Don’t ever keep that to yourself again.”

And when you came, legs shaking around his head, back arching into his mouth, he didn’t stop. Not until he’d licked you through it, every last drop, every whimper, every gasp.

Then he stood up, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and unbuckled his belt with trembling fingers.

“You’re gonna take me now,” he said, voice rough, “and you’re gonna know exactly what I was doin’ up in that tower last night.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “What were you doing?”

“Thinkin’ about you. With your hand between your thighs. Moanin’ my name.”

He leaned down, kissed you slow, and then turned you over, pressing your chest to the bed and gripping your hips like they were home.

“I missed you too, sweet girl. Gonna show you just how much.”

He groaned deep in his chest and dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the mess you’d already made for him. Then he pulled back, unzipped his jeans the rest of the way, and you could hear the rustle of denim, the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor. The bed dipped as he knelt behind you, and then his cock, hot, heavy, pressed between your cheeks, nudging at your entrance.

“Please,” you begged, eyes fluttering shut. “Daryl, I need you.”

That was all he needed to hear.

He slid in slowly, inch by inch, groaning under his breath as your body stretched to take him. You gasped at the fullness, clutching the sheets in your fists, back arching as he buried himself to the hilt. He held still for a second, one hand gripping your hip while the other smoothed down your back, grounding you, letting you adjust.

“Fuuuck baby,” he murmured, voice all gravel and heat. “You feel so good. So damn tight.”

You whimpered something incoherent, and then he started to move.

Slow at first, deep, steady thrusts that made your whole body rock forward. You could feel every drag of him, every inch sliding out and pushing back in. He kept a hand braced at your waist, anchoring you as he fucked into you like he had all the time in the world.

“You missed this?” he rasped, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, breath hot on your neck. “Missed my cock, sweet girl?”

“Y-yes,” you cried out, voice shaking. “Missed you so much—fuck, Daryl—”

“That’s it,” he groaned, speeding up, hips snapping a little harder now. “That’s my girl. You sound so pretty when you moan my name. Don’t keep it in anymore, you hear me? You want somethin’, you come find me. I’ll take care of you.”

His hand slid underneath you, between your thighs again, and two fingers found your clit, rubbing in slow, perfect circles as he kept thrusting.

You cried out, overwhelmed, every nerve lit up.

“Y’close again?” he murmured, voice strained.

“Mhmm—can’t—too much—”

“Shh, you got it. C’mon, baby, gimme one more. Wanna feel you cum around me.”

That was all it took.

You came hard, back arched, legs shaking, mouth open on a silent scream as your body clenched around him. Daryl groaned loud into your shoulder, and a few hard thrusts later, he spilled inside you with a ragged moan of your name, fingers digging into your hips as he emptied himself deep.

He stayed like that for a moment, chest to your back, cock still buried inside you, both of you shaking and spent.

Then he pulled out slowly, carefully, and gently eased you onto your side. He kissed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw. Pulled your body into his chest like you were made for him.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice hoarse but soft, full of reverence. “Don’t care who hears you moanin’ my name. Hell, let ‘em. Wanna world to know you’re mine.”

You smiled through your exhaustion, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I Love you, Daryl.”

And when you fell asleep, tangled in his arms, the entire prison could’ve burned down around you and it wouldn’t have mattered, because for once, you had everything you needed right there in his arms.

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[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret 2 - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

prev

wc: 1479

cw: none!

me: i love writing dialogue!!!!!!!!! also i did get a request for a diff hotchs daughter fic but id already written half of this so anon i have seen it!! also also i just finished my first week back at uni and i already have so many more readings than last yr so my writing may become a bit slower for the foreseeable sorry!!

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You hadn’t seen your father for weeks. Both of you had been slammed with work and Hotch had been on a few particularly long cases that had kept him out of Quantico.

However, you weren’t one to waste time. You’d only learnt Hotch was your father as you went into college, your mother’s well-kept college fling exposed as you grew into adulthood. It was you who took the risk in reaching out, genetically curious. Thankfully Hotch was open to the relationship, and the two of you had been making a concerted effort to make up for all your lost time.

That brought you to the FBI offices after Hotch had messaged you that his case had wrapped up at an appropriate time of day, for once.

“Hi, Sweetheart. I just have to fill out this paperwork but I’ll be quick. You can sit in my office if you like or go get yourself a coffee from the break room.” Hotch gave you a quick side-hug, a big show of affection for him, and you nodded easily.

“It’s all good, I’m gonna go annoy your inferiors,” You laughed, skipping out of Hotch’s office and down to the bullpen.

“Hey, little Hotch, you’re back!” Morgan grinned as he saw you, shaking your hand with probably unearned familiarity.

“Are you hanging around for long? Gotta wait for my Dad to finish work before we can have dinner,” You exaggerated your rolling eyes to emphasise the humour in your tone and Derek responded accordingly.

“Good dads, am I right? Sorry, little Hotch, but I’ve got a woman to make dinner up to, I can’t stick around tonight.” You pretended to be annoyed as you made your rounds to the rest of the agents that you’d met, but everyone was lost in their own little world, rushing to get home to their loved ones.

Not that you could blame them, you were sure if you had to be away risking your life so often you’d behave exactly the same. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t in that position and were getting bored. That was, until your eyes locked on the only agent still sitting behind a desk.

“Doctor Reid, right?” You confirmed as you approached him, not not enjoying the way he seemed to become flustered under your gaze.

“Yeah,” He stuttered, “But you can call me Spencer. If you want. Or not, of course.”

“Alright, Spencer.” You grinned, “So why are you so eager to sit behind the desk? Everyone else basically hit the ground running.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spencer trained his eyes on the file ahead of him, spinning a pen rapidly between his nimble fingers, “Nowhere to rush to, I guess.”

“So you’re single?” You raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, “No girl waiting for you at home?” Spencer almost jumped out of his skin at the word, but managed to shake his head in a way that was almost calm.

“So, um, what do you do?” He changed the subject hastily but you were ready for him.

“You tell me, you’re the profiler, aren’t you?” You were teasing him, challenging him even, but Spencer was good with challenges.

“Clearly you’re in office work of some sort. I assume not necessarily very high up since you said Hotch bought your high-end heels but nothing else you’re wearing is nearly as expensive. Your nails are brightly coloured and have those… charms on them, which tells me you work in something creative, where professionalism has different standards. You’re well spoken and were confident even when faced with the group of us last time, so you probably have to public speak or do client relations. My guess is marketing?”

You stood for a second, amazed by the acute observations Spencer had made within your first conversation.

“I guess they don’t call you Boy Genius for nothing, then. I’m in graphic design, usually marketing campaigns.” Spencer brightened at the praise and confirmation of his brilliance.

“It’s just my job. Any of us would have told you all the same things.”

“Genius and humble? No wonder the FBI is so fond of you,” You teased, leaning against the edge of Spencer’s desk. He laughed shyly, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

“That and the fact I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” Your eyebrows raised as he hit you with what you interpreted as a joke. Cute, smart and funny, what more could a guy offer?

“Wow, you really are the secret weapon around here, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t tell the bad guys.” You winked with a smile, enjoying the way a rosy blush developed over Spencer’s cheeks. “And all of that by what? Thirty?”

“Twenty seven,” He shot back quickly, “I don’t look that old, do I?”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “I think older men are hot.”

“I don’t think twenty-four and twenty-seven is much of an age gap,” Spencer mused as you blinked owlishly at him, completely missing the implications of his statement.

“How’d you know that? You’re not a genius and a mind-reader, are you?”

“I did some digging,” Penelope admitted sheepishly as she crossed the bullpen with her handbag, clearly on the way out. You glanced at Spencer with an expression you hoped was saying ‘who is this woman and how can she do that?’ to find he was already looking at you, amused smile on his own face.

“If you keep hanging around here you’ll get used to her eventually, we all did.”

“I love her. She’s like if my twelve year old self had adult money.” Spencer laughed at that, loud and bright in the otherwise silent bullpen. You smiled at the sound, silence falling between you both. It was somewhere in the middle of nice and slightly weird. You’d only just met but you knew Spencer was someone you wanted to get to know, he fascinated you in every way. And he was fun to talk to, especially as he got comfortable around you. You assumed it was the genius intellect that helped with his quick wit.

“So, is my Dad a good boss?” You broke the silence with a cheeky grin, testing the boundaries.

“Stop tormenting my agent, honey.” Hotch’s rich timbre popped up behind you and your shoulders tensed in surprise. You’d been caught. You turned to face your father with a coy smile, giggle barely contained.

“It was just a question! Don’t quash a young girl’s curiosity,” You played innocent, knowing good and well that Hotch was too smart for the ploy.

“Maybe save your questions for when Reid isn’t wanting to get home for his weekend?” He raised one thick eyebrow, but you could see the amusement behind his typically serious expression.

“I’m very sorry, Doctor Reid, thank you for taking the time to babysit your boss’ daughter.”

Spencer looked like a deer in headlights. What was the procedure? Hotch was standing right there, yet he was pretty sure (and it took a lot for him to even suggest the notion) that you were flirting with him. How was he supposed to handle that?

“I, it was no trouble at all, really. Happy with babysitting duties, sir,” Reid stammered out, the twisting of his features making clear he knew he was making a fool of himself. Hotch, always having had a soft spot for the doctor, let it slide.

“Make sure you don’t stay here all night, Reid.” Hotch started for the elevators and you hopped along at his heels happily.

“Hope I’ll see you soon, Doctor Reid.” You turned back to face him with a grin, delighting in the way he jumped slightly, only able to offer the single most awkward thumbs up and wave combination you’d ever seen.

As the glass doors closed behind you, you could have sworn you heard a squeaky, “It’s Spencer!”

You stood next to Hotch in the descending elevator, giddy smile playing on your lips. If Hotch noticed he didn’t say anything, not that you thought he would. He was definitely not the type of dad to start gossiping about boys.

You were in his passenger seat on the drive to your dinner plans when he finally turned the subject back to his coworkers.

“Just don’t start coming into my work because you like my coworkers more than me, okay? I’d never hear the end of it, especially from Morgan.”

“Who, me? I would never,” You teased, changing the radio station to something more pop-y, “Besides, it wouldn’t be Morgan I’d be visiting.”

next

[lilyprettyremy]

10 Bad Habits to Let Go of for a Beautiful Life (Trust Me, You’ll Thank Yourself)

We all have those habits that hold us back — some sneakier than others. And while no one’s perfect, a little spring cleaning of your daily habits can unlock a happier, healthier life. Ready to drop the bad vibes and level up? Here are 10 bad habits to leave behind for good!

1. The Comparison Game — It’s Gotta Go

We’ve all done it. Scrolling, looking at someone’s perfect life, and feeling like we’re not enough. But honestly? Comparing yourself to others is a losing game. Focus on your own growth, and unfollow anything or anyone that makes you feel less-than. Your journey is yours alone, and it’s beautiful in its own way. Keep your eyes on your own lane!

2. Procrastinating Like It’s a Sport

We get it — that “I’ll do it tomorrow” energy feels good in the moment, but it’s also a trap. The more you put off tasks, the more they pile up and haunt you. Trust, the best feeling is getting stuff done now and freeing up your mind for the fun stuff later. Break it down, set a timer, and just start. You’ll feel like a boss when you’re done.

3. Saying Yes to Everything (Even When You Don’t Want To)

No is a full sentence, babe! If you’re constantly saying yes to things that don’t align with your goals or drain your energy, it’s time to stop. Overcommitting leads to burnout, and life’s too short for that. Start setting boundaries and prioritize what makes you feel good. Your time is precious, so treat it like gold.

4. Relying on Everyone Else’s Approval

We all love a little validation, but depending on it? That’s a recipe for insecurity. Your worth isn’t measured by someone else’s likes or approval. The only validation you really need is your own. So hype yourself up, celebrate your wins, and be proud of the progress you’re making, regardless of who’s watching.

5. Avoiding Your Finances Like It’s Scary

Finances don’t have to be terrifying! Ignoring them might feel easier in the moment, but getting a handle on your money situation is so empowering. Start small — track your spending, create a budget, and set a savings goal. The sooner you take control, the more stress-free your future will feel.

6. Holding Grudges Like They’re Trophies

Honestly, holding onto grudges only weighs you down. Letting go of past negativity isn’t about excusing people’s behavior — it’s about freeing yourself. Don’t let old situations control your peace. Forgiveness is for you, babe. The less baggage you carry, the lighter you’ll feel.

7. Talking Down to Yourself

Would you say those mean things to your best friend? Didn’t think so! So why do we let ourselves get away with it? Cut out the negative self-talk and replace it with something a little more kind and uplifting. You deserve better from yourself. You wouldn’t believe how much your mindset can change once you start being nice to yourself.

8. Expecting Everything to Be Perfect

Perfection is a myth, and chasing it will only leave you stressed and frustrated. Life happens in the in-between moments — the imperfect, messy, beautifully real ones. Give yourself some grace and celebrate progress, not perfection. A “good enough” life is often a perfect one in disguise.

9. Staying in Your Safe Bubble

Your comfort zone might feel cozy, but nothing grows there! Stepping outside of it might be scary, but it’s where all the magic happens. Whether it’s trying something new, starting a project, or meeting new people, discomfort leads to growth. Don’t let fear hold you back — take the leap!

10. Blaming Everything Else for What’s Not Going Right

It’s easy to point fingers and blame outside circumstances, but taking responsibility is where real change starts. You’ve got more control than you think! Instead of dwelling on what’s going wrong, focus on what you can change. You’ve got the power to turn things around — it’s all in your hands.

These bad habits? They’re not serving you, and it’s time to leave them in the past. Letting go of what’s holding you back will clear the way for bigger, better things. You’re already halfway there just by recognizing what needs to change. So let go, level up, and watch your life get a little more beautiful, one habit at a time.

[quarterlifekitty]

Thoughts on matrimony vs reality

Gaz spends a lot of his life thinking about what his image of a family is, and what it's supposed to be. Getting married seems inevitable because it's the done thing, so it must be good, right? But I think he may very well end up in a lifelong relationship that doesn't need a label or a legal binding. You just are what you are, and it's no one else's business. And he derives great pleasure from reminding people of that. Man's gotta have his secrets.

Price changes the most over the course of his life. He says he doesn't believe in divorce, says they promised for better or for worse until death, but he definitely can't hack it with the first marriage. Too young, too wet behind the ears, doesn't have his priorities in order-- he thinks of the relationship as accessory to his work, that he'd always want to be a hero above anything else. By the time the second rolls around, he's a much wiser man, not keen on the same mistakes. And he cherishes like you wouldn't believe. Nothing will drag him away. He's served the world long enough, it can wait. Phone is turned off and buried in a drawer once he walks in the front door.

Johnny fucks around a lot, but it's only because he's waiting for magic, for fate. He doesn't get serious with the people he fools around with because he knows one day he'll feel the spark, and that will be that. True love. Soul mates. The problem is that he's had false alarms. Too many to count. Too quick to read subtext that isn't there. So when he tells his mates about how you're the one, they really don't think you'll last for more than a few months. But he surprises everyone. Simon may be the best man at the wedding, but he only really realizes you're here to stay at child #2.

Simon does not think he'll ever get married because life has taught him that love and wanting are crimes that reap only punishment of the cruelest order. But one day, against all odds, he finds himself in love and in a bind. Some slight, some stupid mistake that could break what you have together completely, and it's his fault. He's always been one to let relationships go once they get too hard. But for the first time, he's scared that this could be the end. And that fear overcomes all others when he blurts out marry me, unplanned and with no ring, in the midst of a row.

[greenxgloss]

Brothers Best Friend

Word Count: 4k Summary: When Namjoon, your older brother, asks you to drop off some things at his best friend's house, and you're left alone with him after the end of the summer party. Themes: Big brother!Namjoon, SoftDom!Yoongi x Eager!reader, F!receiving oral, fingering, protected penetration, smut, fluff

"can you drop this off at Yoongi's house?" your brother asked you, holding a cardboard box. "aww what did you two break up?" you teased. "shut up. this is just stuff he wanted to bring with him to uni." he said, leaving the box in the doorway of your room. "he got into university?" You questioned, making Namjoon laugh.

You watched Namjoon pull out of the driveway and head back to his own school just outside of town. You sighed, looking back down at the cardboard box full of little things yoongi's left here over the passed two years. some shirts, trinkets, an old Mp3 player, a pair of headphones and whatever else yoong has left behind.

You battled with yourself internally on whether or not to drop the box off or let Yoongi pick it up or even just forget about it all together and after changing your outfit about 7 times you picked up the box and you headed to Yoongis house.

Before texting him, you spent a few minutes drafting and redrafting your message, sending each version to your best friend for approval. It was ridiculous how much effort you put into something so simple, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you finally hit send, you anxiously watched your screen until Yoongi’s reply came through, instructing you to come in through the basement entrance.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, a deep bass thrumming through the air. The moment your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, you felt it vibrating beneath your touch, the soundwaves pulsing through the metal. For a brief second, you hesitated, gathering yourself before finally pushing the door open.

As you opened the door, the smell of BO and perspiration wafted back in your face. You made eye contact with colin over the crowd of people, he waved and mouthed to leave the box in a corner somewhere. You nodded and after putting the box down you decided to hang out since he'd invited you anyway.

soon you were debating with someone wether or not Sabrina Spellman in Chilling Adventures was alive. You had a drink in your hand but you had been arguing so long that it got warm and you didnt want it anymore.

"gotta go to the bathroom." You told the random dude you were arguing with as you left your jacket on a nearby chair and left upstairs to find the bathroom.

Yoongi has been a family friend for as long as You can remember. You're only a junior right now. and you've had a bit of a crush on him since 6th grade but he's your brother best friend. he probably looks at you like a little sister. either way you've had sweet fantacies about him. nothing weird dispite you calling them 'sweet fantacies'.

You had one where he asked you on a date and took you to a drive in. he rented a pick up truck and put blankets and pillows in the truck bed. You got all Your favorite snacks and cuddled through the hole movie.

Over the years, you watched how he treated his girlfriends—always the perfect boyfriend. He never brought up sex unless it was obvious the timing was right, or at least that’s what they all told you. You never felt jealous because you believed that if something was meant to happen between you two, it would. You had done your part; now, you were just waiting for the universe to push Yoongi to do his.

You walked out of the bathroom and headed back downstairs to the basement to find that everyone had left and Yoongi was picking up the last of the trash while watching some sports show. "How long was i in the bathroom?" You laughed nervously. He looked back at You. "wanna watch something?" he asked, leaving the trash bag by the door and walking back to sit on the couch. "uh.. sure." You considered leaving. it was cold and you didnt feel like walking home alone. but then you thought, when are you ever going to have a moment alone with him, at night.

You walked over and sat next to him. he arm was already sprawled out on the back of the couch but you swore he inched it closer to your shoulders.

he clicked through the channels and eventually he landed on some boring old mid 90s romcom. it had just begun. "im gonna grab a drink." You said and headed to where the beer was. it was still cold. it was still in a cooler. "grab me one too." he said, dropping his arm.

"do you remember at all what you first thought of me?" he asked after a long silence while you retrieved the glass bottles. "what do you mean? like when we first met? because i think i was like a few months old when we first met." you said, walking back to the couch, letting out a snort. "no i mean like when you first started to retain memory. like oh thats my brothers bestfriend hes tall but blah blah blah." he said, watching you walk back to the couch and sitting down.

"well i mean i thought you were cool. i thought what a pity that you were older than me." You said, handing him his drink. He looked at you for a moment, searching your eyes, as if he was looking for a sign that it was okay to admit something. And then he did.

"When you turned 14 and I was 16, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. It was the moment I started having intimate feelings. Before that, I'd been obsessed with video games and reading. but one day it all clicked." he spoke, just above a whisper.

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. There was no way he was actually admitting that you had been his first crush. The words hung in the air, almost surreal, as he continued speaking, but you had already drifted into your own thoughts. Should you tell him how you felt? Would it be foolish to lay it all out now, after so much time had passed?

Maybe it wasn’t even that deep. Maybe he was just saying it to boost your confidence, to make you feel better about yourself. After all, for years, you had been the quiet, antisocial one in the group—the one who always stood on the sidelines while everyone else paired off and moved forward in ways you never did. Perhaps he thought this little confession would somehow make up for all the times you had been left out, a way to reassure you that you weren’t as invisible as you had once believed.

Still, a small part of you wanted to believe it meant something more.

But then, he kissed you. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. You could smell the faded cologne and the tough scent of alcohol. You leaned into him as you deepened the kiss.

You had never really kissed anyone before—except for that one time in eighth grade when you gave your first boyfriend a quick peck. You could only hope that Yoongi wouldn’t pick up on your inexperience, the hesitation in your movements a direct contrast to his own confidence. With him clearly being the more experienced one between the two of you, the last thing you wanted was for your lack of practice to be obvious.

He laid you down gently, turning toward the tv for a moment to click it off. Your breath hitched when he slipped his hands under your sweater. He pulled away for a moment. "is this okay? Are my hands cold?" he asked, breath heavy and eyes blown. You were so close to assuring him before you realized it. You shook your head.

"are your parents home?" you asked softly "yeah. they're asleep upstairs." he said still watching your body language intently. You seemed apprehensive, and he could tell. it lead him to suggest-- "The guest house. It's empty." he spoke sweetly, reading the hesitance in your eyes. You nodded in response, allowing a small smile to tug at your lips. He sounded like he wanted to make sure you were comfortable as opposed to just being desperate to get your clothes off.

Without a moment to lose, Yoongi helped you off the couch and walked you to the door. When he opened the door, the rain had just started to pick up, falling much harder than the light drizzle from when you first arrived. The temperature had also dropped noticeably, making the air feel even colder. You looked up at him. "uhh- let me get my shoes." you whispered, but before you could turn back, Yoongi had you on his arms bridal style. "no need." he chuckled. Thats when he began Running, trying his hardest not to slip or drop you. When had he gotten so strong?

Both your laughs muffled under the loud heavy rain the entire way up to the guest house until he put you down at the bottom of the steps. "you're certainly determined." You joked, earning a shy smile from him. It was too dark for you to notice the faint flush spread across his cheeks, but you would have found it endearing.

The two of you walked into the carpeted room in a rush. Yoongi pulled you in for a kiss once again, and you could feel just how cold he had gotten, his teeth chattering through the kiss. "Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes." he pulled away for a moment, huffing in an unconscious attempt to heat himself up. You nodded frantically as you watched him peel his soaked shirt off and then helped you take off your sweater, connecting your lips again and slowly lowering you onto the bed, having made your way, stumbling and disoriented when the pair decided to leave the lights off.

Yeah being in the bed may have freaked you out a little, a bed is very different from a basement couch after all, the implications and confirmations jolting you into how serious this was getting, but you tried your hardest to soothe yourself. And then you started thinking;

Are you really about to do this with your brother's best friend? The brother you just saw a few hours ago. It probably showed that you were feeling a bit disgruntled with yourself because Yoongi pulled away from the slobbering kisses he was leaving on your neck. "are you okay? are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked, scanning your facial expressions. You thought for a moment. What does it matter? No one has to know. Besides, it's not like Namjoon hasn't dated your friends.

"yeah. this is totally fine." You smiled, whispering. He smiled back. This was really happening; Your childhood crush was really making out with you. You're about to hook up with him. Not only that but he fully admit to having feelings for you for years. His smile faltered for a moment. "oh let me turn the heat up." he chuckled as he crawled out of the bed and cranked the thermostat up and climbed back under the covers just as fast.

You both still uncontrollably snickering when your cold foot would even just graze his leg or your absolute zero hand would grip his back and he'd yelp before kissing you again. He giggles like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, You thought.

But then he snaked a hand to cup your ass and gave a firm squeeze earing a soft moan against his lips. your face had been contorting just at the thought of having him closer than he already was.

Yoongi kneeled between your legs and pulled your hips up to his, and when you sat up, you straddled him. You felt his cock painfully hard against your inner thigh causing a whimper to fall from your lips. Yoongi held you close with a hand on your ass and another on the back of your neck while he kissed you. This kiss was passionate and messy but not rough; it felt sensual. Like he craved you, a long time yearning. Like he had just been waiting, patience running thin to get his hands on you.

"Pretty girl," he whispered, letting you slowly fall back, letting the misty moonlight fall across your torso, pouring in through the window. He dragged his hand from your neck down your chest and lingering on your lower stomach.

He inhaled sharply. He was falling apart at the sight of you. Fuck this is so hot. You pulled him down with you. "Please, Yoongi." You whispered as you gripped his shoulder. "Please, what baby? use your words." he pressed the tip of his tongue to the middle of his upper lip before moving in to kiss your neck again. "Ahh- Need you- I need you." you whimpered.

Yoongis hand was locked around your waist, pressing you tightly against him. He smiled against your skin before his hand reached from the back of your neck to your bra clasp, snapping it open with his thumb, index and middle finger. the ease in which he did so pulling a gasp from your throat. He chuckled, setting you down on the bed and slowly pulling your bra off. "didn't think you could get prettier." he leaned back, allowing himself the full view of your exposed chest.

a violent blush unrolled across your cheeks. He has a soft smile pinned to his lips as he took in the vision of your bare skin underneath him. Yoongi pressed his hands, gripping you just above your hips and pulled you tightly against his own. He leaned down peppering kisses over your chest before taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. You tangled one hand in his hair while the other gripped the pillow under your head. soft, airy moans leaking from your lips, similar to the heat and wetness pooling in your black panties.

"yoongi," you whined. "please you're- you're teasing." you whimpered, your hips involuntarily grinding into his. He softly groaned at the friction. Yoongi nodded, hooking his fingers under your panties and pulling them down. "I need you to be patient baby, can you do that for me?" He whispered as he lowered himself and lifted your thighs over his shoulders. You bit your lip in anticipation and nodded. "I can try." you whispered.

"Good girl. Is this okay? Need to taste you." You could feel his breath against your heat, and the proximity was driving you crazy. "Please." The only word you could return, desperation leaving you in the form of perspiration. Yoongi kissed the inside of your thighs before gently pressing a thumb through your folds to your clit. Your body tensed. "Nghh- Fuck." you whimpered quietly. "that good?" he chuckled, your responsivness boosting his ego.

Yoongi kissed your folds before reaching his tongue to your cunt, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. You writhed under him, slack jawed and those same airy moans slipping your tongue.

Yoongi was just as worked up, hips involuntarily rutting into the bed below him and soft groans vibrating into your cunt as he began sucking your clit softly, tongue poking out to lick a strip up your cunt. You were so wet you dripped down his chin. Yoongi hummed in pleasure, enjoying your flavour.

You squeezed around nothing, eager for him inside you. Yoongi picked up on this immediately and slowly slipped his first finger inside your pussy. "F-fuck fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi." This causes him to add a digit, smiling as he roughly scooped your clit and hood with his tongue.

"So close," you whimpered, gripping his hair, giving it a light tug and spurring him on. His fingers quickened in pace as he pulled away for a moment to look up at you. "I need you to cum baby, drench me, its okay," he spoke low and sultry before attaching his mouth to your heat again, tongue and swollen lips attacking your clit. "Nghn- Shit." you fell apart, gripping his hair tighter than before. Yoongi let out a groan, enjoying the sting on his scalp and lapping up your juices.

He slowly pulled out his fingers, licking them and using his thumb to collect the excess thick liquid from his chin and encouraging it into his mouth, humming as he swallowed. "soo good." he sat up, leaning down to peck your lips as you caught your breath, tasting yourself on his lips.

Your head was spinning, your chest heaving, rising and falling as you raked your eyes over his exposed milky skin.

"You ready for me, pretty girl?" he asked in a low tone, trailing his hands up and down your sides, slowing at your hips and giving them a small grip. You nodded, biting your lip again. You were spent and still craving him.

Yoongi stood to peel off his boxer briefs and set his length free. You felt your stomach flip as you took in his size and girth. He stroked it gently a few times before fishing for his wallet in his jeans on the ground. He pulled out the metallic gold packet as you sat up, leaning against the headboard. It put his size into perspective- the gold glistening in the ray of moonlight streaming through the window.

Yoongi chuckled as he looked up at you for a moment, approaching you on the bed. "Are you nervous?" he asked softly. You nodded as you blushed again. "Would it help if you put the condom on for me? get you a little more familiar?" he suggests, kneeling once again between your legs. "Yeah- I think," you stammered before letting out your own giggle and taking the condom from his hand.

"Wait." he stopped you before grabbing one of the pillows behind you and lifting you to slip it under your hips, elevating you. "Okay." he motioned for you to proceed.

You tore open the small foil packet, pulling out the slick latex before wrapping your fingers around his length. The heat of him pulsed against your palm, and you watched the way his body reacted—his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, his muscles tensing ever so slightly under your touch. Slowly, deliberately, you rolled the condom down over him, your eyes flicking up just in time to catch the way his pupils had blown wide, his forehead glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the tip of his nose flushed pink. His lips were parted, his breath unsteady.

"I-I'm ready," you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice over the pounding of your heart. Those two words sent his head reeling.

Yoongi gently guided you onto your back, his hands warm and steady against your skin. He hovered over you, eyes searching yours as he murmured, "You can stop me if it gets too uncomfortable." His voice was soft, almost reverent, and you nodded in response.

The anticipation was almost unbearable as he aligned himself with you, pressing the swollen head of his cock against your slick pussy. A slow, deliberate drag—up and down—coating himself in your arousal. The teasing friction made your thighs twitch, your stomach clench, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

He pushed in, just the tip, a stretch that sent a shiver through your entire body. Yoongi's gaze flickered between where your bodies met and the expression on your face—your brows knitted together, lips parted, breath shaky. He groaned low in his throat, adjusting his grip on your hips, his movements slow, controlled. The pillow beneath you propped you at just the right angle, allowing him to sink deeper, dragging along the sensitive roof of your walls.

"Fuck," he exhaled, voice strained. His forehead pressed against yours for a brief moment before he pulled back slightly, giving you a second to adjust. "You feel so good, so tight."

The pleasure built slowly, a delicious ache, the kind that made you crave more. And with every inch he gave you, you welcomed him deeper. "Faster," you whimpered, gripping his forearm, feeling his muscles tense in your hand. Yoongi nodded, his own grip on your hips tightening as he picked up his pace while making sure to let you adjust before allowing his hips to snap against yours.

Technically, you had never been with anyone before, but you were no stranger to exploring your own body. The idea of pain wasn’t what unsettled you—it was everything else. The anticipation, the intimacy, the unknown.

"You ask so sweetly," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Such a good girl for me." Each word sent a shiver down your spine, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the dimly lit room. His praise wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the coil of heat in your core. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as warmth spread through your body. The weight of him above you, the way his voice dripped with admiration—it left you feeling dizzy, vulnerable, and utterly consumed.

"So pretty under me," he murmured, his grip tightening just slightly, as if to remind you that you were exactly where he wanted you. "god, yoongi please keep going, stretch my pussy out so good." A moan caught in your throat as your back slightly arched off the bed. Yoongi lightly pressed his open hand on your lower stomach as he thrust in and out. "Nghh shit feels so good." he let out his own whimper.

Yoongi wanted you to finish before him—he needed it. He could feel his own release creeping closer, the tension coiling in his lower abdomen, but he held himself back, determined to draw you over the edge first. His thrusts grew sloppy, uneven, his breath coming in ragged pants as he leaned over you.

"Cum for me, baby," he murmured, his voice low and strained. "Cum all over my cock like a good girl."

His words sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, making your legs tighten around his waist. The way he spoke—so desperate, so commanding—made your entire body tremble with anticipation. Your fingers gripped the sheets as waves of pleasure built inside you, growing stronger with every precise thrust.

Yoongi’s tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, his teeth grinding together as he fought to maintain control. He slowed his pace deliberately, teasing you with deep, measured strokes, his free hand trailing down between your bodies. His thumb found your clit with practiced ease, rubbing tight, purposeful circles, sending jolts of electricity up your spine.

A choked whimper left your lips as his other hand pressed firmly against your lower abdomen, intensifying the sensation, making every movement feel impossibly deep. Your walls fluttered around him, your body begging for release. He could feel it—feel you tightening, feel the way your breathing grew erratic, your thighs trembling beneath his touch.

"That's it," he coaxed, voice thick with lust, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Let go for me, pretty girl. Let me feel you."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped. Your moans increased in volume, a continuous string of rising shrill moans as you clenched around Yoongi's length, causing him to release with you. He continued thrusting, allowing you both to ride out your highs before collapsing next to you.

Yoongi peeled the sopping condom off his half-hard length and tossed it on the ground before turning to pull you into his arms. He pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder as he spooned you. "you okay?" His voice was sweet as honey. You hummed a yes, feeling yourself get drousy. "Was really good, yoongi." You smiled as you drifted off in his arms.

Your anxious thoughts having stopped the moment he picked your panties off, you felt safe, warm, comfortable. His afterglow and post ejaculation scent mixed with the lingering cologne, calming you unlike anything else.

Yoongi smiled, holding you tight, not a single ounce of regret in his body but no reservations about keeping tonight between the two of you and out of Namjoon's ears. He drifted into a deep sleep soon after you, huge smile on his face, completely forgetting he's leaving for school in the morning.

A/N: HII this is my first time writing a lengthy smut since I realized my smut is soooo brief (I might re-write my passed smutty fics just to lengthen them for you guys) anyway sorry for postponing this. it was an idea I had originally had for Colin Shea, an Chris Evans character from the movie Whats Your Number and it was inspired by the opening scene in the book Save The Date by Morgan Matson. it was buried real deep in my drafts and decided to recycle it for Yoongi since I really like the brothers best friend trope lol I hope everyone enjoyed this is technically like 3 years in the making LMAOOO ok love you bye

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[luveline]

Hi jadeeeee I have a request for coworker James! Another man whether it’s at work or somewhere else starts hitting on reader and James get jealous and realizes he hates seeing her with other guys

ty for requesting 💌 fem

It’s another sunny day at the office, but today is the day the vending machine men come in and fill them, so it’s not all bad. The doors and windows are wide open, the air is fresh and clean. 

“It’s too hot,” Remus complains without any real passion. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sirius says, though he raises his hand to begin fanning Remus anyhow. “It feels hotter than it is because of the humidity.” 

“I feel amazing,” James says. He gives you a nudge with his shoe, his hair tickling his neck as he leans back in his chair. “It’s not that hot, is it?” 

“It’s boiling,” you say. 

You were never going to agree with him. It could be sub zero and you’d tell him you were on fire. James rolls his eyes at you and continues a rather lavish existence of sun, breeze, and cold grapes, their crisp insides popping between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

James lifts his head. 

“That’s okay,” Jordan says, to James’ immediate affront. There’s no need for the man in charge of maintaining the vending machine to be talking to you in that tone. It’s bordering too sweet. 

“I’m always in your way,” you laugh. 

“You? In my way? Never.” 

You turn to Remus with an obvious expression. Is he flirting with me? it says. 

Remus looks at James —what the fuck?— before he gives you a tentative back and forth of his head, weighing it up. He shrugs. 

James shakes his head resolutely. 

You give them both the silent version of I understand and settle down in your seat again. The vending machine guy (what’s his name again? James can’t remember) pops open the front cover of the machine and takes out the change box. Clearly, he doesn’t categorise you or the boys as a risk of burglary. 

“So,” Jordan says, “how was your weekend? Did you do much?” 

“In this weather?” you ask with light-humoured sarcasm. “I went on a couple of walks, nothing huge. How about you?” 

“Went to a couple of matches.” 

“Rugby or football?” 

“Rugby, always.” 

James feels the pressure of his teeth clenching at the back of his head. “Do you play, mate?” he asks. 

Jordan looks at him in surprise. “No, we just watch. It’s an excuse to have a pint before five.” 

You break two slices of your clementine away from each other. James doesn’t know why, but your gaze is on him, and that’s where he wants it. “Day drinker?” he asks sympathetically. 

“James,” Sirius says, laughing. “Grow up.” 

“Sometimes,” Jordan says. He finishes reinstalling the change holder and starts to push snacks and drinks onto the vending machine shelves. “Gotta have a little bit of fun every now and then, right?” 

He emphasises to you. 

You give a shy smile. “Right.” 

Jordan finishes his job and wishes everyone goodbye quickly after that. You chew your clementine, your finger looped under your bracelet, tugging slowly round and around. He fucked that up for you, didn’t he? You couldn’t get very far with him poking holes at poor Jordan, but… you’d been smiling at him nicely. You’re allowed to smile at whoever you want to, of course you are, so why did James act like that? 

“Sorry,” he says. 

You slide your thumb between slices of clementine. “To me?” you ask from the corner of your mouth. “For what?” 

Sirius and Remus laugh at the same time. 

James ignores them. “I was mean to him. How are you ever gonna get a date if I bully the vending machine guy?” 

“You think I can’t get a date?” you ask. 

“No.” He grimaces. “No, just, he’s a dickhead.” 

“As opposed to who? You?” you ask. 

James is pretty sure his vision goes white. He hates seeing you with other boys, but this isn’t where he wanted the conversation to go. He doesn’t wanna be your boyfriend. He just hates seeing you happy with other people. 

Oh, god, he thinks. That’s horrible. 

“I think you can do a whole lot better than Jacob the vending machine guy.” 

“Jordan,” you correct, laughing. You don���t bring him up on avoiding your real question, perhaps you don’t notice. You just laugh with Remus and pass James a piece of your clementine. “Vending machines are an honest living. Don’t be so classist.” 

“You’re classist,” he rebukes weakly. He ignores Sirius’ knowing gaze to offer you his punnet of grapes. “Horrible woman.” 

“Get it together, Potter.” 

James doesn’t know what to say to you after that, so he says nothing at all. Your clementine is sweet on his tongue. 

[sturniololuvz]

Hii can you do a sturniolo little sister fic and she comes back home from a friend's house with a hickey on her neck??

“A Friend’s House?”

You weren’t even in the house for ten full seconds before Nick clocked it.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink in hand, chatting with Chris while Matt scrolled on his phone, all three of them just hanging out in the kitchen like normal.

Then you walked in—smiling, hoodie zipped up halfway, trying way too hard to be casual.

And Nick’s eyes narrowed immediately.

“Where were you?” he asked, the first to break the silence.

You shrugged. “A friend’s.”

“Who?” Matt chimed in, not looking up.

You didn’t answer right away, just started opening the fridge like you weren’t clearly stalling. “Just… a friend. You don’t know them.”

That was the first red flag. The second?

Chris tilted his head slowly, eyes locking on your neck. “Yo. What the hell is that?”

You froze.

Matt finally glanced up, eyebrows raised, then frowned when he saw what Chris was looking at. “Is that a bruise?”

You quickly pulled your hoodie up higher around your neck, muttering, “It’s nothing.”

Nick stepped closer. “Nah. Move your hair.”

“Nick—”

“Move your hair.”

You hesitated, then sighed in defeat, brushing your hair aside.

All three of them went quiet.

Chris blinked. “That’s a hickey.”

You immediately turned toward the fridge again. “Okay, well, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?!” Matt said, raising his voice a little. “A guy had his mouth on your neck and you think that’s not a big deal?”

“I didn’t say it like that—”

Nick stepped in front of you. “You told us you were at a friend’s house.”

“I was.”

“Bullshit,” Chris said from behind. “You were with a guy. Don’t lie.”

You slammed the fridge shut, guilt and panic bubbling up. “Okay, fine. I was. So what?”

“So what?!” Matt scoffed, standing straighter. “You’re sixteen. You snuck off to hook up with some guy, lied about it, and now you’re walking around with his mark on your neck like it’s a badge of honor.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

Nick looked tense. “Then what is it like, huh? Because from where we’re standing, it looks like you let some guy treat you like a joke and then came home smiling about it.”

You crossed your arms. “I wasn’t smiling about that.”

Chris walked around the island, eyes sharp. “What else have you done with him?”

Your heart dropped. “What?!”

Matt didn’t flinch. “Answer the question.”

You felt your face flush. “I’m not talking to you guys about that.”

“Well you kind of have to now,” Nick said, his tone bitter. “Because you’ve officially lost the privilege of privacy when you start lying to us and letting guys touch you like that.”

“You can’t control me.”

“We’re not trying to control you,” Chris said, frustrated. “We’re trying to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Matt pointed toward the door. “Do you even know if that guy respects you? Or was he just trying to get what he wanted?”

You hesitated. “He’s not like that.”

They all laughed bitterly at the same time.

“That’s what every girl says,” Nick muttered.

“I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” you snapped.

The room went quiet again.

Then Matt exhaled and rubbed his face. “Okay. Good. But this whole thing still isn’t okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. “I just didn’t want you guys to freak out.”

Chris gestured between all of them. “Look around. We’re freaking out.”

Nick’s voice softened slightly. “We’re not telling Mom and Dad. But you gotta talk to us. If something’s going on, we’d rather hear it from you than find out this way.”

Matt added, “And if we do ever meet this guy… he better be respectful. Like, painfully respectful.”

“Yeah,” Chris said. “Like… calls-us-sir level respectful.”

You snorted. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“We changed your diapers,” Nick deadpanned. “We’re allowed to be dramatic.”

You sighed. “I get it. I’m sorry. I should’ve told the truth.”

They didn’t say anything right away.

Then Matt finally said, “We love you, you know that?”

You nodded.

“Cool. Now go put some makeup on that thing or wear a damn scarf,” Chris muttered, walking out of the kitchen. “I’m not tryna see that every time I look at you.”

Nick grabbed a snack from the pantry. “Next time just say you’re going to a boy’s house. We’ll still be mad—but at least we won’t feel lied to.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Deal.”

Matt smirked. “You’re grounded, by the way.”

“Wait, what?!”

“You lied,” he said, pointing at you with his water bottle. “Grounded.”

You groaned and trudged to your room.

From the hallway, you heard Nick say under his breath, “Bro… I really didn’t need to see a hickey on my baby sister’s neck today.”

⸻

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