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starsinmylatte · 7 months

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Be Our Girl?

If you saw Tumblr immediately flag this, no, you didn't.

This is the first request I received as part of my JJK Fic Readers Supporting Noury event. There are still slots open, so please click the link for more info!

Thank you to @enchantedsylveon for their support and the wonderful request 💜. I went way over the word count because I got possessed by the spirit of horny. Forgive me 😅

Pairing: Geto x Gojo x afab!reader (aka SatoSugu x afab!reader) Rating: Explicit (18+ minors DNI) Word Count: 6.8k Request: Morally grey, obsessive pleasure doms Gojo and Geto take care of their girl while she's on her period.

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Warnings are found below the cut!

A/N: This is my first time writing a threesome AND my first time writing for both of these characters....... So, Leeeeeroy Jenkins!

Warnings (besides what it says on the request): Use of pet names (princess, baby, etc), references to mental health issues, multiple sex positions, dacryphilia, cursing, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, cum eating, banter during sex, breeding kink, cervix fucking, deepthroating, praise and light degradation, y'all get the gist this is some filth (affectionate)

It was early one morning, far too early for any sane person to be awake as you sat on a couch, trapped between your two long-time friends. On one end of the couch, Satoru Gojo pouted and stared out the nearby window, nursing a can of soda like it was hard liquor. Geto Suguru occupied the other end, glaring at the wall like he wanted to burn a hole through it. He was doing his damnedest to avoid paying his best friend any attention as you sat between the two men, grumbling under your breath. You were unlucky enough to be quite literally in the middle of their dispute.

The two young men had been fighting so much recently, and it had honestly hurt your heart to see. Their bickering had affected their efforts in school, nearly destroyed both of their mental health, and strained their relationship to a breaking point. Shoko had advised you to leave it alone, saying the boys needed to figure it out on their own or just fuck already, but as their other best friend, you just couldn’t take much more of it. Especially when Satoru made a habit of coming over at three A.M. to complain about Suguru.

Funnily enough, that was precisely what had led to the current situation. Satoru had shown up, knocked so hard that he nearly broke your door down in the process, and shoved his way inside your apartment despite your many protests.

Now, there were multiple reasons why his visit was horribly timed. The first would’ve been immediately evident if the strongest sorcerer wasn’t so preoccupied. You were wincing in pain when you answered the door, clutching a hot water bottle to your lower stomach, and Gojo had been too oblivious to notice. He simply brushed past you, already ranting as he headed directly for your plush couch.

“‘Toru, wait-“

“That emo bastard can’t get it through his thick skull that we’re supposed to be friends. He-” Satoru paused mid-rant as the emo bastard in question sat up on your couch, groaning. Suguru had been fast asleep until now, and the raven-haired man looked pissed that he had been woken up.

The deep circles under Suguru’s eyes had only grown more exaggerated in the past few days, and his long, beautiful raven hair was a tangled mess. You could see the weariness he carried creep under his skin more and more, and it honestly terrified you. Suguru had confided in you that he could barely sleep anymore, and like the good friend you were, you offered for him to sleep on your couch, hoping the proximity to a close friend would help ease his mind.

“You’d better be talking about someone else,” Suguru hissed at Gojo, dark eyes flashing with anger as you slammed the heel of your hand against your head.

“I can already feel another migraine coming,” you muttered under your breath. “‘Satoru, as I was trying to say, you may want to come back later because I. already. have. company.”

You punctuated your words with brief pauses, not even bothering to try and hide the annoyance in your tone. Gojo pursed his lips dramatically, rolling his eyes. He immediately turned on his heel to leave, but you beat him to the door. “Oh, no. You didn’t listen to me, so you get to stay. I am not in the mood for this to be a revolving door today.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but one look from you silenced him. You motioned for Geto to scoot over on the couch, and the sleep-deprived man shot you an incredulous look as Gojo pilfered a soda from your fridge.

Nearly thirty minutes of awkward silence had passed between the three of you on the couch before you’d finally had enough. You had been trying to be a good, patient friend, but this morning was the absolute last straw. For half of the previous night, you’d been curled up in a ball with the most abysmal cramps, completely unable to sleep. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, you had drifted off… only to be woken up by Gojo thirty minutes later. Your cramps were still coming in awful waves, and no medication was helping. You simply wanted to melt into the floor, but you were being forced to babysit two of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers who had ever lived while they behaved like petulant children.

A particularly harsh cramp had you gritting your teeth, barely able to speak as you forced two words past your lips. “That’s enough.”

Both of your companions’ heads whipped around, and you felt the weight of two completely different gazes. One was ice-cold, and the second felt like scorched earth; they were polar opposites, but each held the same intense gravity.

“The two of you are going to talk this out. This all passed ridiculous a long time ago.” You continued, gesturing around dramatically with one hand, holding up the other to silence the noises of protest that left both men. Your throat felt dry and raw with anger. All of the frustration and pain in your body had coalesced into a single, white-hot ball of emotion, which was currently clawing its way out of your throat with a vengeance.

“I’m not finished. Geto Suguru, I want you to feel better, but you have to open up to us. If you keep all your emotions bottled up, you’re going to go insane one day and start a cult or something.”

Geto looked down at his folded hands, clearly a bit stunned by your outburst. Normally, something like this would’ve never happened. You were always such a caring, sweet girl, and you had never lost your temper in front of either man. Both Gojo and Geto instantly knew that they’d fucked up for you to be this viscerally angry and use their full names at the same time. You had never called them anything other than their first names for the many years you’d been friends.

“And you, Gojo Satoru, need to calm down and try to understand your best friend more. The two of you need to actually talk. You’ve just expected Suguru to come to you for help all this time, but you could also reach out first.” Gojo had the decency to blush in embarrassment, setting his soda can down on a coaster while you scolded him.

You stood rather abruptly, intending to leave the two men to sulk while you crawled back into your warm bed, but you forgot about one very important thing in your addled state. The hot water bottle was still on your lap, and it hit the floor with a loud clang the second you stood. Water splashed everywhere, finally catching the attention of both men. Gojo’s icy gaze met Geto’s earthen one as the full situation finally clicked in their heads, and they shared a look that clearly read “oh shit.”

The loss of the water bottle’s comforting warmth was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Fat, hot tears started to roll down your cheeks as you felt your uterus violently contract again. You doubled over, and both men stood, rushing to your side as you cried out in pain, fully sobbing.

“You’re making all of us worry, especially me. I just can’t keep listening to my two best friends complain about each other instead of talking through their problems, and I feel horrible right now, and I just-”

Geto ran a comforting hand down your back. “Shit. Shhh… We’re sorry for making you worry. Right, Satoru?”

Gojo sighed as the raven-haired man stared at him pointedly. “He’s right, we’re very sorry. C’mere, let’s get you back into bed.”

He held his arms out as you sniffled, wiping at your eyes. With one swift motion, Gojo scooped you up in his arms as Suguru quickly towled up the water on the floor. Somewhere deep in your mind, you realized that you could feel Satoru’s warm skin against yours; he had turned off Infinity for you. He cradled you for a few precious minutes, purring soft reassurances against your ear that had you relaxing into his arms.

“S’ alright. I’ve got you.”

Suguru rolled his eyes and finished cleaning in almost record time. He pushed his friend toward your room, entering first to scoop your sheets aside and plug in your big heating pad. Gojo laid you down on the soft mattress, and you immediately snuggled up underneath the sheets. Another sharp stab of pain made you wince, and the two men shared another pointed look and a collective sigh, finding enough truce in their argument to climb into the bed on either side of you.

Geto passed the heating pad to Gojo, who gently placed it against your lower stomach before pulling you against his chest. You clung to him happily, nuzzling into his warmth. However, this new position also made you oblivious to the way Geto’s eyes flashed in frustration at the sight.

The raven-haired man pulled your back against his chest in retaliation, splaying a possessive hand over your hip as Gojo smirked at him. You murmured in appreciation, unconsciously shifting to lay against them equally as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Geto and Gojo locked eyes and finally relaxed, seemingly arriving at some unspoken agreement. They joined you in a deep, comfortable sleep, and it was by far the best sleep any of you had gotten in months.

The three of you only grew closer after that night. It had only taken a week for Gojo and Geto to patch up their relationship, and they emerged with a stronger bond than before. When Shoko asked about the change, the boys cheerfully credited your period-induced breakdown as the catalyst that led them to reconcile. Gojo would grin cheekily, the action only mirrored by his raven-haired counterpart’s self-satisfied smirk as the two repeated the very same answer to everyone else who asked. They also pointedly ignored how you blushed and stammered at them, “Please, stop telling everyone about that.”

“No can do, sweetheart.” Satoru winked at you over the rim of his dark glasses before sighing dramatically, poking at your soft, pouting cheeks, “Besides, where would we be without you? You put us in our place, so you deserve all the credit.”

Geto chuckled, a darkly amused glint in his eyes as he placed his large hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’re right. We both need our girl to keep us straight.”

–

Time flew by as the three of you graduated and rejoined Tokyo Jujutsu High as young teachers. Life was… interesting; some things had changed for you, but many things still stayed the same. For one thing, you, Satoru, and Suguru were still incredibly close. Even though there were always missions to complete, students to educate, and monsters to kill, the three of you made time to spend together.

Quite often, your “quality time” with the two men was spent in the form of a massive movie night at your apartment. There had been many discussions about moving it to Gojo’s ritzy new place, but the routine was already too ingrained in the three of you. So, every other weekend, you all piled on top of your plush sofa to watch cheesy movies, cycling through picks from every genre imaginable until everyone fell asleep.

However, as much as you enjoyed the tradition, you had almost canceled tonight’s marathon. The worst part of your period was supposed to be over by now, but the heavy cramping hadn’t let up at all.

“Those two better be glad I love them so much,” you muttered, blushing slightly as you caught your accidental choice of words.

Love? No, I don’t love those two. We’re just friends. Really good friends.

Thoughts continued to whirl around your head as you hurriedly tidied up your living room and small kitchen, preparing everything for the night. No, you most definitely weren’t in love with both of your best friends at the same time. You were so good at ignoring how the two men had only grown more handsome and attentive to you since their big argument, and you definitely never imagined them taking you to bed….

By the time you had nearly convinced yourself that denial was just a river in Egypt, there was a cheerful knock at the door. The knock lasted for all of two seconds before Satoru pushed it open, grinning widely. The white-haired man still wore his blindfold but had traded his usual all-black uniform for a pair of suspiciously designer-looking grey sweatpants and a soft, black t-shirt.

“I brought treats!” He chimed, setting his armful of baked goods and sweets on the counter.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Toru, did you rob a small bakery? You know you’re the only one who will eat most of it.”

He noticed how you greedily eyed a bar of dark chocolate, snatching it up and waving it at you teasingly, “Oh, so you want me to take it back, then?”

You pouted, trying to reach for the bar as Satoru weaponized his height against you. He held the chocolate just out of reach, and you jumped, almost brushing the very edge of the wrapper. You landed awkwardly, stumbling backward into something- no, someone- very solid. A rich, amused chuckle tickled your ear as Suguru caught you, reaching up to pluck the bar from Gojo’s hand as his hand cupped your hip.

“Having fun without me, already?”

“‘Toru’s being mean,” you complained as Suguru passed the sweet to you with a snide grin directed at the other man.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, removing his blindfold to wink at you. “I’ve wounded our princess so she can have the first movie pick tonight.

Your heart twisted and fluttered in your chest at the use of that pet name and the sight of his gorgeous cerulean eyes, but you shoved that feeling aside as quickly as it appeared.

“I can forgive you… this time.”

“And you can make the first batch of popcorn,” Suguru added, his signature sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll make sure to burn yours,” Gojo grumbled in response, heading for the kitchen as Suguru herded you toward the couch.

You plopped down onto the middle of the couch, and Geto settled to your left, promptly handing you the chunky knit blanket you favored. Funnily enough, the arrangement the three of you sat in was as much of a tradition as the movie night itself; you were always in the middle of the two men. The three of you were always sandwiched together, but that didn’t make you flustered. Jujutsu sorcery took such a high mental toll that you had long figured any cuddling was strictly platonic.

Geto looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you almost sighed in happiness as you caught the comforting scent of sandalwood soap and incense that always surrounded him. You tipped your head against his shoulder, smiling contentedly and nibbling into the chocolate bar as the two of you flipped through movies, looking for the perfect one. Gojo cursed loudly in the other room, and you giggled at the loud banging coming from the stove.

A few hours later, you finally got to Geto’s pick: a cheesy B-grade horror movie. Bags of candy and popcorn lay strewn over the coffee table as the three of you watched the final girl run from yet another masked killer. You had excused yourself to the bathroom half an hour ago to take some medicine and change into a fresh pad, but your cramps stubbornly refused to give up. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the night, so you suffered in silence, silently wincing in pain every few minutes.

Geto and Gojo shared a look as they felt your body tense for the umpteenth time, and the raven-haired man clicked pause on the remote while his counterpart rubbed tiny circles over the small of your back.

“What is it?” Suguru asked, his voice and expression both filled with concern.

“Nothing, really. I’m fine.” You tried to reassure both men, but they gazed at you, unimpressed and clearly not buying your story.

“We know you well enough to know that’s not true.” Gojo gazed at you, suddenly more serious than he’d been all night. Geto squeezed your shoulder gently, and both men scooted even closer to you, clearly unwilling to let it go.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I’m on my period, and my cramps are really bad right now. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want tonight to end yet, even though I don’t feel well.”

Geto’s gaze softened, and Gojo laughed quietly, “You know we couldn’t leave our girl when she’s in pain.”

Your cheeks flushed hotly at Satoru’s words.

“You know I’ll never get a boyfriend if you keep calling me that.”

The words left your lips before you could even think about what you were saying; the temperature in the room instantly felt ten degrees colder. Suguru’s deep, coffee-colored gaze narrowed instantly, and Gojo tipped his head down to look you in the eyes, his pale irises shining almost eerily in the dim light.

“Do you not… want to be our girl?” Suguru leaned down to whisper against the shell of your ear, his voice a velvet purr that made you shudder. You felt both men hold you tighter, their grip infinitely more possessive; Geto nipped at the shell of your ear lightly, drawing a small moan out of you.

“Sugu…. I….. mmmmph..”

Gojo traced a finger underneath your chin, tilting your eyes to meet his calm gaze. The new angle of your neck gave Geto the perfect angle to kiss up and down the column of your neck, which he promptly took advantage of, ghosting his lips across the sensitive skin. You shuddered, whimpering slightly as Satoru held your face still in one of his large, calloused hands.

“He asked you a question, baby,” Satoru crooned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his unfairly perfect lips.

Embarrassment mixed with growing lust dusted your cheeks, and your eyelashes fluttered in sync with every sinful drag of Geto’s lips against your skin. Your head was growing fuzzy, yet your body felt light as a feather as you relaxed between the two large men. Any thought of your previous pain had faded away in a sea of bliss and disbelief until another vicious cramp tore through your abdomen. You jolted upright, worry flashing in your eyes. The two men paused immediately, backing off to let you speak.

“Even if I do want this…. We can’t right now. I’m….” You trailed off in embarrassment, staring down at the hem of your shirt.

“Do you think so little of us, sweetheart? You think we’re frightened by a little blood? Geto crooned, and Gojo grinned in response, gasping in mock indignation.

You shook your head slightly, stammering in protest. “I-I don’t think you’re afraid of it, just that ‘s gross.”

Gojo caressed your cheek with his thumb, and Geto nuzzled his nose against the crook of your neck in reassurance. “Nothing about you could ever be gross; what you’re going through is the most natural thing in the world.” The raven-haired man murmured.

“And b-both of you want me?” You responded in a daze.

“Yeah. It’s been that way for years,” Satoru smiled, unashamedly staring at the swell of your slightly parted lips as you gasped in response.

“It’s been the three of us for our entire lives, and you kept it that way. I don’t see why it should ever change,” Geto added with a low note of amusement. He caressed your waist, and another shudder ran down your spine. “You’ve been ours for years… we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it. Let us take care of you, baby. You’ve done so much for us.”

Every nerve ending of your body crackled like a live wire as the two men waited with bated breath for your response. Your mind whirled as you tried to string together an actual sentence. Finally, you were able to moan a single word. “Please…”

The effect it had on the two men was instantaneous. Suguru groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck and pulling you back into his lap. Your back hit his broad, muscular chest, and you melted against him instantly.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long we’ve waited for this…. How many men we’ve chased off because they didn’t deserve you.” Satoru mumbled, surging forward to claim your lips with his own, pinning you against the other man. The kiss started out soft but quickly grew more insistent as you moaned and whimpered every time Suguru grazed your decolletage with his teeth. He started to pull the neck of your shirt aside for better access to more skin, and you writhed in his arms as he left bruises in the wake of his lips.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned Satoru’s confession, but right now, you felt hot, almost delirious with budding desire, as he reached down to trail his fingers over your clothed pussy. He rubbed directly over your little clit, but the pleasure you craved was muted by the thick added layer of your pad, and you whined in protest. “‘Toru, need you s’badly.”

“You hear that? Our princess needs you, Satoru.” Geto purred as the other man continued tracing the outline of your pussy.

You rocked your hips against his fingers, desperate to feel more, but you only succeeded in teasing Suguru as you accidentally rocked your ass directly against his rapidly growing erection.

He hissed loudly, trailing one of his hands under your shirt to cup your bare waist. Gojo chuckled at the sight of his best friend’s suffering, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling away with an audible pop. “Careful now, or you’re gonna make it hard for him to last.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Suguru groaned in response, trailing his hand up to paw at your breast. You whined as he lightly pinched and rolled a nipple between his clever fingers, and the raven-haired man chuckled roughly, “Look at how dirty our girl is, not even wearing a bra. She’s so damn sensitive.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words as Gojo leaned back, kneeling on the couch to watch the show you and Geto were putting on in front of him. Your gaze was half-lidded and hazy with lust, but you could still clearly see the way the muscles of his arm flexed as he reached down to palm his own erection. It stood proud, visibly tenting the dark grey sweatpants he wore, and your mouth watered at the mere outline of his dick. It looked so long and thick, and you could only imagine the bliss of it stuffing you and dragging against your deepest, most sensitive parts.

He brushed a strand of white hair off his face, looking at you with another cocky smirk as he addressed the other man. “Oi, help me out here, Suguru. I seem to remember something about cramps… I think they’re improved by medicine, a heating pad, or something else. Now, what could that be?”

Gojo paused for a clear, dramatic effect, his wolfish grin only growing wider as your breath caught in your throat. You were so distracted that you didn’t even realize Geto’s lips had trailed back up to your ear as he responded in a dulcet whisper, “I think the answer might be ‘they’re improved by orgasms.’ What do you think, pretty?”

“Yes, god yes,” you begged, rubbing your thighs together. The dull ache of your period had faded away into the haze of lust, but your pussy throbbed, begging to be filled.

Satoru winked at you, leaving the couch and walking into your bedroom for a moment. You whimpered as he left, and Geto chuckled again at your reaction, giving your nipple another rough pinch. “There’s no god here, baby, just us. But we’re gonna do you so good… Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

You lay against his chest as Suguru pushed your shirt all the way up, tucking the hem between your teeth to give himself full, unimpeded access to your chest. He maneuvered the two of you around slightly, leaving you in his lap but allowing both of your legs to dangle off the edge of the couch. “Let’s give Satoru something to look at when he comes back, hmm? Bet he’d love to see these perfect tits.”

He took each of your breasts into his warm hands, alternating between kneading the soft, supple flesh and pinching your aching nipples. You could only moan softly through the fabric of the shirt stuffed in your mouth as Geto took you higher and higher into bliss with every movement.

Gojo walked back in not a minute later, holding a few fluffy, black towels. His beautiful eyes widened at the perfectly pornographic scene spread out in front of him, and he cursed under his breath, rushing back to the couch as Geto smirked at his best friend’s needy expression.

“Careful, or he’s not gonna last long,” he teased, tugging off your shirt as he parodied Gojo’s earlier sentiment.

The white-haired man huffed and shook his head sarcastically, but you certainly didn’t miss the way he threw his own shirt off and knelt between your legs as quickly as he could. His eyes were shining with ravenous desire, and your pussy throbbed as you realized that Geto’s teasing had an edge of truth.

Gojo smiled up at you, tucking a towel between your hips and Geto’s lap before hooking his hands into the waistband of your pants, gently tugging them down and tossing them away.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” He keened, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the inside of your thighs as his long fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.

You bit your lip as a million worries flooded your mind, but Suguru caressed your face, whispering conspiratorially, “Think about how pretty he’s gonna look between your legs. He can finally put that smartass mouth of his to good use, right?”

Satoru nibbled his way up your skin, sucking a dark hickey at the apex of your thigh as Geto continued to lavish your breasts with affection. You whined and moaned, keening with every touch. It felt like your entire body was on fire, and you’d go up in flames without the touch of both men. Any embarrassment you could’ve felt had long since evaporated; all you could do was beg for more as both men left their mark on your body.

“‘Toru, please… Wanna cum so bad.” You whined, begging for relief, and Gojo glanced up at you with an expression that would’ve terrified anyone else. He may have been in a traditionally submissive position, but there was nothing submissive about his body language; he looked like a fallen angel with the way his pale hair framed his face.

He slipped your panties off, breathing becoming heavier and heavier as all of your perfect body was finally revealed to his ravenous gaze. Satoru threw your legs around his shoulders, leaning back just enough to inspect your cunt. His pale eyelashes fluttered as he used one of his long fingers to part your puffy, swollen folds, completely mesmerized as you moaned his name and your cunt clenched in sheer anticipation of his touch. You were obscenely wet from the mixture of blood and arousal that trailed down your legs, and Gojo couldn’t wait any longer.

“Our girl’s got a perfect fucking pussy, Suguru,” He mumbled, diving in to lick a fat stripe all the way up to your clit. You moaned wantonly, your head lolling back against Geto’s strong chest as the man behind you held your body upright, still enamored with the way your breasts fit in his hands.

Period sex was very new to you, but you could already tell that it felt different- not different, better. You felt more sensitive than ever before, and not just between your legs. Your breasts felt heavy and full; you had a sneaking suspicion that you could’ve cum from Geto toying with them alone.

Gojo’s eyes fluttered shut in bliss as he ate you out like a man starved. He lapped up every bit of arousal and blood from your weeping pussy, fucking you with his tongue before trailing delicious circles on your swollen clit with his tongue until you screamed his name. Your thighs wrapped around Satoru’s head, and the white-haired man moaned desperately, taking the opportunity to slip two fingers deep into your cunt. You keened at the delicious stretch, and Suguru groaned at the sight.

“T-Toru… Ah-! Sugu….” Tears of pure bliss started to gather in the corners of your eyes as Satoru’s fingers rubbed mercilessly against your G-spot. You felt a familiar band of pleasure start to stretch in your lower stomach, and you whined in desperation. Suguru grabbed one of your arms, pressing desperate kisses against the delicate skin of your inner wrist as his other hand toyed with a nipple in time with Satoru’s thrusts.

“S’close.. Nnnnngh, gonna cum… pleasepleaseplea-” The band of pleasure snapped suddenly before you could even finish your sentence, launching you over the edge of the most intense orgasm of your life. Tears fell as you shattered in between the two men, crying and rocking your hips against Satoru’s face while your core fluttered around his fingers.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Suguru growled as he scooped you up. He cradled you in his arms and leaned down to kiss you as Satoru stood, licking the blood and cum off his fingers.

The taller man grinned as the two of you kissed passionately, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek.

“Baby, you cryin'?” Satoru simpered before leaning in to lick off another tear. When Suguru pulled away to tell him off, Satoru pulled him into a searing kiss, slotting his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Geto’s eyes flared in shock before he leaned into the embrace, moaning as he tasted your arousal on his best friend’s tongue.

“I thought you deserved a taste, too. Isn’t she sweet?” Gojo asked innocently as he pulled away to kiss you as well. You whined and ran your hand over his bare chest as the white-haired man nipped at your already kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“Bedroom. Now.” Geto stood abruptly, his voice hoarse as he broke the embrace between you and Gojo. He carried you in his arms, shoving another large towel on top of your sheets before gently laying you on top of it. Your head lolled to the side, and you reached down to play with your puffy little clit, moaning softly as the men finished undressing in front of you.

You watched shamelessly, taking in the sight of their beautiful bodies. Both men were tall and muscular, but Satoru was taller with more of a lean build, almost like an acrobat or a swimmer. Suguru was truly the Yin to Gojo’s Yang; he was stockier and deliciously broad. It was an undeniable fact that both men were gorgeous.

“Sugu… Toru…. Please. Wanna feel you both in me,” You begged, rocking your hips against the movement of your fingers, not even caring about how needy you sounded.

The bed dipped with their weight as both men joined you on the bed without further hesitation. Geto knelt in front of you, motioning for you to get on all fours and face him. You hummed in delight, rolling over and pushing yourself up to face him. Suddenly, Gojo pinched your plush ass with a snicker. You gasped in shock, and Suguru took the opportunity to slap his thick cockhead onto your tongue.

“We’re gonna fuck you raw from both ends first, baby. Gonna really make you ours. How’s that sound?” He questioned with a smirk, rubbing his fat tip over your tongue.

Your gasp quickly turned into a purr of delight as you worked his tip into your mouth, greedily licking at the prominent vein that ran underneath his shaft. Geto’s raven-dark hair fell around his shoulders like a curtain as he moaned loudly. You could taste the salt and musk of his pre-cum as you worked his shaft deeper and deeper into your throat.

Gojo cursed lowly as he lined up his swollen cockhead with your opening. You wiggled your hips back at him, wordlessly begging to feel the stretch and delicious length of him deep inside you. He pushed in at an agonizingly slow pace, trying to give you time to adjust.

You moaned in ecstasy, and Geto gasped, bucking his hips slightly as he felt the vibrations of your throat around his shaft. “Fucking hell, baby. You’re sucking my dick like you were made for it.”

Gojo pushed in further, finally bottoming out with his fat cockhead nestled snugly against your cervix. You whined at the dull ache, but the feeling was addictive. You rocked your hips, desperate for more, and the white-haired man moaned. “And she’s sucking me in like she wants to get pregnant tonight.”

Your eyes flew open, and you gasped around Geto’s dick, drawing another ragged moan from the man. It wasn’t what you had intended at all, but you couldn’t hide your reaction to Satoru’s lascivious words, especially since he could feel your core fluttering in agreement with his statement.

You could feel the wickedly delighted grin spread across his face as Gojo grew deadly silent for a moment. “Oh, Suguru~ you should’ve felt the way she just clenched around me when I said that. Our girl is even dirtier than we thought.”

“I told you she’s perfect.” Geto slid into your mouth even further, sighing in bliss and his own ecstasy as he pushed into your throat, entwining his hands in your hair. You gagged for a brief moment; his dick had more girth than Gojo’s, and it was the biggest you’d ever taken like this. The raven-haired sorcerer moaned and crooned down at you, stroking the column of your throat where his cock was nestled so deeply.

More tears fell as your eyes watered in the bliss of being so completely used by the two men. You felt so full, so complete, and you couldn’t help but moan again as your nose rubbed against the dark trail of hair on Geto’s lower abdomen.

“Shit, gotta move. You ready, baby?” Gojo groaned, shallowly thrusting his hips. You tried to moan in assent, but the sound was strangled by the dick in your throat.

Geto tipped his head back in ecstasy, laughing hoarsely. “She wants it s’badly, ‘Toru.”

The two men started to move, alternating their thrusts in perfect rhythm like they’d planned this moment for years. Every deep thrust from Gojo would send you falling forward onto Geto’s cock; you could only wordlessly cry in bliss from the position the two men fucked you mercilessly.

Satoru pinched and kneaded the tender flesh of your ass with every thrust. He swiped one of his fingers between your legs, collecting the creamy mixture of his pre-cum and your arousal, offering it out to his best friend with a smirk. Geto sucked it off with an audible pop, groaning at the taste as Satoru returned to collect more. You choked again as you felt one of his long, clever fingers tease your tightest hole, circling the rim with predatory intent.

“Relax, baby. Gotta get you ready f’me.” He slipped his finger in, beginning to work you open as you relaxed into the intense but euphoric sensation.

“Our slutty princess wants all her holes filled, huh?” Geto groaned, looking down at your fucked-out expression. “Gotta cum again for us. Gonna make you cum so hard that you can’t think straight.”

Satoru slipped a second finger into your ass, working you open even further as the two men fell slightly out of sync with their thrusts. They were both breathing hard, grunting and begging desperately for you to cum with them. As if on command, you fell apart for the second time with an obscene moan. White sparks flashed through your vision as your orgasm shot through you, even more forceful than the first. Your cunt spasmed around Gojo so violently that he came on the spot, painting your blood-swollen womb with his pearlescent seed.

Geto cursed at the sound of Gojo’s strangled cry, pulling completely out of your mouth. You panted and moaned below him, your body shaking with every thrust as Gojo fucked you through your orgasm. Suguru groaned as your tongue lolled out, begging to be coated with his cum. His balls felt almost uncomfortably full as he stroked his shaft rapidly, intent on giving you what you begged for so prettily.

It only took a few seconds for Geto’s own orgasm to crash through him. The smooth movements of his hips and hands stuttered as he groaned lowly, painting your pretty face with his seed. However, most of it landed in your mouth, and you happily caught it with your pink tongue, holding it out for him to inspect.

“You’re going to… be the death of me one day,” the raven-haired man moaned as he felt blood immediately rush back to his cock. Instead of swallowing, your eyes shone mischievously, and you turned around to pull Satoru into a searing kiss. You mimicked his earlier actions, but this time you were pushing Suguru’s cum into his mouth.

Gojo moaned wantonly at the sharp taste, swallowing his share as his own cock twitched back to life. Geto pulled you away from the other man, maneuvering you to face him as he brought your hips down, filling you with his cock in a single thrust. You screamed hoarsely, cunt spasming from overstimulation as Gojo laughed roughly, wiping the remainder of his friend’s cum off his lips before positioning himself behind you.

The white-haired man watched greedily as you bounced on Geto’s cock, taking a minute to lean back and stroke his dick until he was fully erect. Gojo pulled your hips back, stilling Geto’s thrusts, and he growled in response.

“Gotta let me in too,” Gojo chided, swiping a finger over his fat tip to coat it with pre-cum as he positioned it against your other hole. Your eyes widened, and you gasped as he started to push into you, stretching you slowly but mercilessly. Geto pulled you in for a ravenous kiss, devouring your litany of moans as he struggled to keep from thrusting into you. After a small eternity, both men were seated fully inside you, and you whined their names over and over like a prayer, begging them to start moving.

“Toru, Sugu… nnnnhgh, ‘m so full,” you cried, leaning your head against Geto’s shoulder as the two men cradled you in their arms. Their hands roamed over your body, caressing and groping every inch of you as they began to move, stretching your body past the very limits of pleasure. Your eyes glazed over; you couldn’t tell who was kissing your neck versus who was rubbing achingly soft circles on your clit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as the two men brought you to climax again and again.

Soft rays of dawn were peeking through your bedroom window by the time the three of you fell onto your bed, breathing hard but finally sated. You looked around at the sheets and at your lovers, blushing hotly at the dried red marks that covered almost every surface in the room. The towels had not lasted long.

Geto chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, “We’ll clean up. Don’t worry.”

“And we’ll prepare better for next time,” Gojo added with a grin, poking your cheek.

Your whole body felt like jelly, but the two men were determined to care for you properly. Suguru walked into the bathroom, and you could hear the sound of water filling your bathtub as Satoru fetched a glass of water for you, helping you sit up to drink properly. He scooped you up, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he walked you into the bathroom, depositing you in the warm water. The three of you washed each other in blissful silence, with both men being extra attentive to your sore body. Afterward, they changed your sheets and put you in clean pajamas, slipping their own sweatpants on to climb into bed next to you.

“Thank you…” You murmured, already drifting off to sleep between your two lovers.

Geto kissed your temple silently as Gojo laughed softly, “Of course. We have to take good care of our girl, after all.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @cindyneko-strider @unoriginalidea @eldritchbeauty @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @pseudowho

#Lyria's fic for Noury🌻#curse you tumblr for making me repost this #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo satoru x geto suguru #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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yu-huuuu · 6 months

Text

Damian smiled as you stroked the unruly locks on his head.

He knew the purpose of your touch wasn't to mess up his hair; that's why he didn't complain.

"Do you have everything?" you asked as you bent down to fix his uniform shirt. Today, he was going to school; the holidays had ended, marking the start of a new day at school.

Damian pretended to grimace, "You talk as if I were a little kid, sister."

Your small laugh made him undo his fake grimace, making him smile again.

"Well, it's better if you go, young man," you suggested before playfully pinching his nose, "you wouldn't want to be late like last time."

At your words, Damian huffed as a blush of embarrassment covered his slightly chubby cheeks, "That time was Dick's fault, not mine."

You hummed, “Whatever you say”.

"Sister!"

Your laughter was the last thing he heard as he ran off to where he knew Alfred was waiting to take him to school, feeling in his chest the strange and warm bubble of happiness that was becoming increasingly familiar.

…

Damian woke up. The sunlight streaming through the windows warmed his cold face.

He slowly got up. His tired eyes scanned your room, which, despite the sunlight streaming through your window, still looked gloomy.

He missed you so much that sometimes he would enter your room to sleep. Your scent, which always comforted him, had disappeared a long time ago.

Last night, he had a nightmare, or rather a memory, of when he found your lifeless body, and with nowhere else to go, he went to your room, enveloped his body in your sheets, and pressed his face into one of your pillows, trying to capture your scent to calm himself.

But it was impossible.

And he cried, cried as silently as he could. Keeping silent was easy. A long time ago, when his mother punished him and the pain of the blows wouldn't leave him, he simply let the pain of the bruises flow silently.

He had gained practice in doing that, but he had lost it a little because of you. You had spoiled him by letting him cry so loudly around you when everything was too much for him.

Damian didn't want to get out of your bed; he wanted to stay here. But he knew that if he didn't go down, Alfred would come up to see how he was, and honestly, he didn't want to answer any of the old butler's questions.

He stroked your empty spot one last time, hoping for some reason it would feel warm, but instead, it felt eerily cold, just as cold as your corpse.

a small part of the chapter that was published today haha!

wanna read it? Sure! below are the links of the story 👇🏼

Quotev & Wattpad

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everythingne · 10 months

Text

christmas in monaco - cl16 [2]

Trying to even bring up boys with Max ends up in a fight. You and Charles have a heart-to-heart. Daniel and Carlos help you devise a plan.

warnings/notes: comparing Max to Jos during the fight, mentions of shit parents, one (1) jab at Kelly, the chapter is serious and then Daniel shows up and that goes to shit, the last bit of set up before i go full scooby-do search party through the doors on you guys

verstappen!reader x charles leclerc, secret dating/brothers best friend

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You know you're in for it when you open the door to Max's apartment, groceries tucked lazily in one arm and coffees in the other and he's staring at you.

"What?" You ask as if you have no idea what he wants. You can see Penelope laying on the floor, coloring while some cartoon you've never heard of plays, and thus immediately switch to Dutch.

"[Why do you look like you're mad at me?]" You say, walking over to where he sits on the kitchen island, plopping down the groceries, and handing him the coffee you'd bought. Kelly's off doing god knows what today, leaving the two of you to watch Penelope before you return to your apartment next door.

"[Who is he?]" Max asks, taking the coffee with a nod of a thank you as he helps you organize the groceries. You knew posting that picture would cause this conversation, you and Charles had spoken about easing Max into the fact you were dating at all, and maybe it wasn't the best idea. Max had been fiercely protective over you since you were kids, you don't know why you assumed he'd stop now that you were adults.

"[I haven't told anyone yet. We're keeping it hush.] Okay?" You speak softly, setting down some things for dinner. Simple pasta, since Penelope had picked that over pizza--as long as you made her meatballs as well. You pluck the ingredients from the mess of other groceries, making sure you have everything as Max leans back in his seat.

"[Oh, so I'm just anyone now?]" Max lifts his hands in agitation, the same accusatory tone of your father's ringing in Max's voice. You swallow your vitriol, crossing your arms taught over Charles' hoodie you wear as you cross the room, then you tug up the red sleeves of the hoodie as you set down the ingredients for dinner by the stove.

"[Max, come on.]" You urge, hoping he'll drop it. But he's as stubborn as your father and as impatient as him too.

"[No, I feel like I have a right to be upset over this, how long have you two been seeing each other?]" His pointed glare at you as you whisk out a pan from under the stove makes your skin burn hot. You pause, mouth opening and closing as you slowly slide the pot onto the stove. If you say two years, does that link you to Charles too quickly? But if you lie, will Max see right through you? And you can't dodge the question, not here, not now.

"A couple months." You say. Yeah, twenty-four of them, then you scoff when Max makes a face, "[Stop acting like a child.]"

"[And how come Danny knows?]"

"[He found out on accident, and honestly I remember now why I didn't wanna tell you.]" You huff, filling the pot with water and clicking the burner on. You tie your hair up lazily, looking over at Max as your crack-open fridge next to the stove and then turn to grab the ingredients to make the sauce, "[you're treating me like a toddler.]"

"[You're my baby sister, I feel like I am kinda... obligated, to be concerned?]" Max's voice is sharp as you start to whip up the same sauce you've been making since you were fourteen. Max stands up and crosses the room to stand next to you, "[And I'm not treating you like a toddler. It's my job to protect you as your brother.]"

"[I'm a year younger than you! I'm not a baby, you just don't trust me, which is fucking stupid because I'm not the one dating a woman almost a decade older than me!]" You huff as you turn to Max, who tries to stammer some defense to his situation but you don't give him a chance to, "[and I don't know why you think I can't date drivers, by the way, you trust those guys with your life but not my heart?]"

"[Those guys are cheaters, I don't want you hurt.]" Max runs a hand through his hair, watching as you continue making the sauce. You can tell, just by his eyes, that he's thinking of the times you used to make him pasta after races growing up. You try to not think about the past.

"Who?" You ask, looking at the sauce and burning the red color into your retinas, mentally praying that he's not catching onto you.

"Lando, probably." Max huffs, stepping back, "Charles."

"Charles?" You hum, hating that you come to his defense immediately and not Lando's, "[The guy who just announced the girl he's been dating for two years?]"

"[He's done some interesting things.]" Max says in his defense and you can't help but laugh. You knew before Charles met you he had been a bit of a womanizer, or 'man-whore' as your friends so kindly said. But with you, it was like Charles was a brand new person.

"[You're so overdramatic.]" You deadpan, turning to add the noodles to the sauce and Max scoffs.

"[I'm trying to protect you so you don't end up with someone like Dad!]"

"[You haven't even met my boyfriend yet and you're assuming the worst! Why are you being such a dick, Max!?]" You slam the spoon down and then flinch, remembering Penelope is in the other room the second you do it. It takes a few seconds, and then her little head peeks around the doorway.

"Are you fighting?" She asks sweetly and you shake your head.

"No, Penny, it's fine." You try to smile at her, but Max seems to have taken another level of offense to everything.

"Y/n. [Go fuck off to your mystery boy, why don't you?]" Max takes the spoon off the counter. His cold shoulder isn't something new, but it's the way he says it, sounding like the harsh whispers your father would pass at you in public, makes you swallow hard. You walk across the room, grabbing your purse and car keys off the table before kneeling down in front of Penelope and kissing her hairline.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay honey? Sorry if I scared you when I slammed the spoon down." You squeeze her in a tight hug, closing your eyes as you feel Max's eyes burn into the back of your head.

"Okay, Tante Y/n." She smiles, throwing her tiny arms around you, "And it's okay, I thought you dropped it."

You step back, kissing her hairline again, before getting up and leaving the apartment in a breeze, coffee forgotten. Your hands fumble with your phone, finding Charles' contact and sending him a quick message as you try and calm your anger.

You have a spare key, and as you jiggle your phone and keys in your hands to find it, the door swings open and two arms wrap around you. Laughing softly, you bury your face into the fabric of Charles' sweater and sigh heavily. He's warm, smelling of the usual cedar cologne you'd bought for him a while back. He also smells weakly like his hair products and if you try to search for it, your perfume lingers on his neck.

"Hi, amour." You murmur into the fabric and he bends at the knee enough to scoop you up to carry you the few inches inside before popping you back on your feet as he uses one hand to push the door shut.

"Hi." He says back, stepping back and squishing your cheeks in his hands and peppers soft kisses to your hairline, "Sorry about Max."

"It's fine. He's just being overprotective again." You kick off your shoes and follow Charles to the living room, flopping down on his couch and burying your head in your hands.

"You know if..." Charles sighs, hand coming through his hair and then pausing as he scratches at his neck, "If it's gonna be easier for you, I can try and talk to him?"

"No... I should tell him, he's my brother. I just don't think now is a good time?" You say as Charles pops down next to you on the couch and you shift so you can lay his head in your lap as you kick your feet onto the coffee table to rest, "he just seems so... agitated."

"Because you're dating?"

"He's afraid I'm gonna end up with someone like Dad. That's the problem. He doesn't trust anyone with me and gives them no chances. He thought Jolie was a drug dealer for like, six months!"

"She's a teacher?" Charles turns to you and you can't help but just laugh because that's Max.

"I know!" You huff.

Silence lulls for a while, and then Charles sits up and grabs you to unceremoniously pull you against his chest as he lays you both down on the couch. your face squishes against his hands as he peppers soft kisses to your hairline, the apples of your cheeks, and your nose, before pressing one long kiss to your lips. Pulling back just enough to murmur,

"I wanna spend Christmas with you, properly, this year." He says against your lips, your eyes fluttering before he presses his thumb to your pulse to draw you back enough to make eye contact, "I want to be able to post you, to talk about you with everyone because you're so fucking amazing, and I wanna meet your siblings and your mom and go on holidays with you guys and have our moms meet because Maman and Arthur both adore you and..."

Charles drawls off for a moment, hands coming up to cup your face as he thumbs along the warm, delicate skin of your cheeks, "I want, one day, to be able to get down on one knee and give you my whole heart."

Your pulse rams under his touch, cheeks dusted red, eyes wide but happily smiling as he leans in to lock in a long kiss, then he peppers some pecks on the corners of your mouth.

"The problem is, I can't do anything without Max knowing about us. Two years of us dating without telling him is already bad enough and he's been in my life since we were kids--even if we absolutely hated each other at first." Charles sighs, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before letting you rest your head on his chest, "I feel terrible he doesn't know."

"But you know what he said." You sigh, closing your eyes against the warm fabric of his sweater--the grey one you'd bought for him a while back.

"I know, but we're either going to tell Max, or Max will find out." Charles sighs, "I prefer the first if I'm honest."

Even as you nod in agreement, you feel sick. The bubble of you and Charles had been safe for so long, that you weren't sure if you wanted to let Max in. But he was your brother, a year and fifteen days older, and you had told him everything up to this point. You'd be lying if you said you didn't also feel like shit for keeping Max out of the loop, but yet you feel like you have to.

"How'd Daniel find out?" Charles asks after a moment and he looks at you with those big eyes that make your heart thrum under your skin, love, and adoration seep from him and you don't understand at that moment how he could've ever been a womanizer when he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him.

And then a small smirk peeks across his lips, "Because I know how Carlos did--"

"That one was your fault, Leclerc." You poke his chest, "Not locking the driver's room door was stupid."

"It was! But we're lucky it was Carlos."

"We're lucky we were only kissing."

"[We could've done more.]" He teases, making sure to really ramp up his accent as he speaks French so it's a bit harder for you to follow along, but you get the gist and whack his chest.

"Daniel saw me leaving, he was in the area doing media stuff." You explain, "I guess he saw me leaving."

"Oh, I thought it was because he moved in downstairs last week." Charles hums and you snap your eyes open and exclaim--

"What?!"

"Mhm. And Carlos lives in this building too." Charles looks over at you from where his eyes had been burning a hole in the ceiling, "Mon chéri, a lot of the drivers live in Monaco."

"I'm gonna lose it." You grumble, then pause, sitting up so you're hovering over Charles, one of his hands slides to support your waist immediately so you don't slide off.

"Carlos and Danny know." You say.

"Mhm."

"And... Carlos is your best friend--"

"--Arguably--"

"--and Danny is arguably Max's best friend, behind you."

"Uh-huh."

"...What if we ask them for help?"

"Absolutely not am I asking those two," Charles says and you huff.

"Come on! We clearly can't do it ourselves!" You exclaim, bouncing yourself on him with your arms, making him grunt as your body weight hits him.

"Daniel will tell us to do some sort of skit and Carlos will say for us to just say it!" Charles grips your waist and pulls you closer, "I don't need their shit advice."

"Maybe we need their guidance, and I promise it won't be bad! I promise! We can invite them over, have some wine and dinner, and voice our concerns--maybe they know something about Max we don't! Maybe they'll know he won't be mad or something."

"Y/n." He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"Charles!" You whine, "Look, if they give us shit advice, we kick them out and go back to the drawing board."

"Fine. But I'm holding you to this."

"I'm going to kick Danny out in about five seconds." You hiss to Charles and he laughs.

"Dude!" Danny shouts from where he sits on the floor, "I'm just saying, Max likes Charles. We all see it!"

"Believe me." Carlos hums into his wine, "There's a reason that... what is it... Lestappen shit is so popular. He's not gonna be mad its Charles. If it was like... me? Probably. Charles and Daniel are probably the only two drives you could date."

"And Yuki." Charles hums, "I don't think Yuki could do wrong."

"He might stab someone with the chef's knives he got for Secret Santa." Daniel points out and you snort.

"But you seriously have nothing to worry about." Carlos nods, "Honestly, you both are so stressed about it, I don't think either of you can think clearly."

You huff, "I feel like I can be stressed though. Max will either be fine with it or hate me forever."

"No, not forever, étoile." Charles hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he draws you close.

"I don't think Max can physically hate you. I think he'd explode." Daniel hums, "Remember when you were sick and he thought you were ignoring him but you just literally couldn't hear out of one ear and he almost had a crisis?"

"You remember that?" You blink at Daniel. That had been only shortly after you'd met Daniel, the first race of that season. You were so delirious you couldn't remember most of the weekend, but you remember Christian and Daniel holding that over Max's head for weeks after.

"I do because he almost lost his mind for like four hours thinking you were mad at him and ignoring him. And then you rolled over and woke up from your nap." Daniel finishes the unceremonious story and Charles and Carlos burst into high-pitched laughter.

"He didn't think to like, shake her shoulder?" Carlos asks between laughter, finishing off his wine and grabbing a bottle from the little makeshift bowl cooler you put on the floor. He pours himself another glass and then tops everyone else off before putting the bottle back.

"He knew she was sick, and Y/n specifically told him not to touch her or go near her while she was sick." Daniel explains, thanking Carlos before taking a sip of the wine, "It was ridiculous. And then he made her promise that she wasn't actually mad."

"It was pretty funny." You grin and Carlos nods.

"So then Daniel is right, Max can't stand you being angry at him. So he can't be angry with you. If he is, he's a hypocrite, and fuck him, obviously." Carlos raises his glass in mock toast as sarcasm bleeds through his sentence halfway through, "But I can't say he won't be mad. He might be furious when he finds out, you have explained how protective Max can be, but I think he'll feel better knowing it's Charles."

"Charles is like his best friend," Daniel hums, "if you're dating someone he trusts I'm sure he'll feel better about it."

"Didn't we just make this point?" Carlos turns to Daniel who nods.

"Yeah, but it's a good one, so make it again."

"Max trusts Charles so it's fine," Carlos says and you laugh, waving your hands.

"Okay, so how the fuck do we do this?"

The plan is simple but effective. And it takes a few words to describe; be exactly the same, but a bit less secretive.

And the best way to start that is via social media. Once again.

y/nverstappen made a new post! ↴

liked by carlossainz, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 412k others..

y/nverstappen: he called me his star <3

joliejolie: CYOOTIE PATOOTIE WHHAAAT

user1: caption??? GUYS?? CAPTION??

maxverstappen: i still don't know who

charlesleclerc: thanks for using all my film

charlesleclerc made a new post! ↴

liked by ynverstappen, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 612k others...

charlesleclerc: never getting rid of this camera.

user2: get me someone who will do this for me.

danielricciardo: DUDE THERE ARE KIDS HERE.

⤷ landonorris: im covering oscar and logans eyes

⤷ logansargeant: yeah ok.

⤷ charlesleclerc: ill get worse

⤷ oscarpiastri: pls no

⤷ carlossainz: ill buy u wine if you do

⤷ danielricciardo: DONT ENCOURAGE THAT WE DONT NEED A FUCKING HOMICIDE ON OUR HANDS??? CARLOS???

⤷ ynverstappen: why is DANIEL on damage control??

user1: why is this the sweetest thing ever?

ynverstappen.jpg: make a jpg coward

⤷ charlesleclerc.jpg: who says i dont have one.

⤷ landonorris.jpg: its just priv.

⤷ danielricciardo: unpriv coward

⤷ charlesleclerc: ok ?

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: YEAAA SECRET CHARLES PHOTOS!!

charlesleclerc.jpg made a new post! ↴

charlesleclerc.jpg: in her own world.

arthurleclerc: vomiting. put clothes on.

y/nverstappen: TWO shirtless photos. BRO.

⤷ charlesleclerc: oops.

maxverstappen: so she takes after you with not wearing a shirt?

⤷ charlesleclerc: low blow

⤷ ynverstappen: accurate blow tbh

landonorris: where is ferrari's pr manager.

⤷ carlossainz: no one can help her.

ynverstappen.jpg made a new post! ↴

y/nverstappen.jpg: some fuckin gems in my camera roll recently

charlesleclerc: omg finally a feature

danielricciardo: WHEN WAS THAT TAKEN I DO NOT RECALL

⤷ carlossainz: shit talk night w her and charles

⤷ danielricciardo: after the advice?

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: yes and u still owe me a new shirt >:(

maxverstappen: can you ever post a nice photo of me on here?

⤷ y/nverstappen: nope <3!

charlesleclerc: the banana is so old why now

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: comedy

And by god, it starts working.

You're walking with Charles, hands intertwined as you wiggle through the tiny stalls in the small market that's popped up for the holidays. You both find a small corner to hide, stealing a chaste kiss and then you pop a chocolate strawberry in his mouth.

"Oh, damn." He hums, "You are right, these are amazing."

"I told you!" You grin, peeking behind your shoulder to see if anyone is watching. You swear you make eye contact with Max, but the longer you look the less the guy looks like Max so you turn back around.

"You good?" Charles rests a hand on your waist and you nod, taking a strawberry into your mouth and sighing.

"Mhm. Just hate hiding." You lean into his touch, letting him wrap a firm arm around your waist as he peppers a few kisses to your hairline.

"Hey, think about it this way." Charles says, "Soon we won't have to."

As you step back and agree, Daniel pops up next to you with big wide eyes--and not the usual excited ones you're used to seeing.

"Hey, Max, on your six." He pokes your shoulder and you make a face, before Daniel waves his arms around in some sort of odd gesture and hisses out to you, "Clock direction!"

"Oh-!" You whip around as Charles' hand moves off your waist and walking towards you is none other than your brother. Offering a soft smile and wave.

"Hey! Didn't think you'd be here!" You call and he pokes your arm, crossing his arms over his chest as you, Charles, and Daniel kinda scramble to make it look like nothing was going on.

"Kelly wanted to grab some flowers for the kitchen," Max hums. The two of you hadn't really apologized for anything said during the argument. In your family, arguments were never really apologized for, you kinda of just moved on from everything. So even if there was still a bit of an awkward twinge, nothing was said.

"Oh! Somehow Charles and Daniel haven't had the strawberries so I brought them here to try them." You smile, and someone's hand comes to your jaw. You blink as Charles uses one of the napkins to poke your cheek.

"You got chocolate on your face, somehow." He murmurs and you laugh, grabbing his wrist and taking the napkin into your own hands.

"Thank you, Charlie." You blot where he says the chocolate is and you notice Max giving you a weird look. Looking over at your brother, you go to say something before Daniel pulls Max away to look at something, mouthing to you both,

"Be more discreet, maybe?"

And you can't help the giggles that leave your mouth as you lean into Charles and he wraps an arm around you, laughing out apologies.

Yeah, Max was gonna catch on.

and now you and Charles had to get real good at lying and dodging watchful eyes. Monaco was a small little country, and now that it would be filled with more people who knew you, it was about to become a real challenge to see if you could make it through the holidays without anyone knowing or noticing.

Oh, especially when your Christmas Eve dinner was now going to have the Leclerc's stopping by as well.

taglist. thank you!

@angelayse @iamahallucinationnn @ilove-tswizzle @supremebaddietrash

#f1 fanfic #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau #f1 smau #formula one smau

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churipu · 8 months

Note

FIRST EVER REQUEST. WOOHOO!!

Id like to request jjk men with a reader that has atrociously long hair, like super duper long hair please.

(eg. do some get mad becuz the hair is everywhere. Do some help you make your hair)

I hope your taking care of yourself and staying healthy and hydrated <3 mwah mwah

JJK MEN + PARTNER WHO HAS LONG HAIR

featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, choso kamo x reader

warnings. cursing (toji)

note. hi nonnieee, congrats on your first request mwah mwah. as a person who used to have ATROCIOUSLY long hair — some people weren't happy, including me (which is why i decided to chop it off >:() and nonnie baby, i hope you're also taking care of yourself <33 also, i'm gonna be closing the requests as of now while i try to finish the other requests, and it will be opened back if everything is done! thank you.

GOJO SATORU. loves your hair, no questions asked. he loves playing with your hair if you both are just chilling in the house, the male always tries to look up easy hairstyles to do for beginners — which never ends up good.

gojo once got your hair stuck in a brush because he was too focused in watching the tutorial, and he contemplated chopping your hair off. but you threatened him, and so he spent approximately one and a half hour to untangle your hair.

after that day, he never tried a new hairstyle in fear of doing something wrong again. but he still and does play with your hair, twirling it around his slender fingers and caressing it — sometimes he helps you with drying your hair after a shower, and he helps on your hair care routine.

"so i just put the tonic on? how much should i put? four dose of pipettes?" he asks you, looking at the small pipette in confusion.

"baby, no— just four squeezes are enough." you informed, a bit worried about your hair now; but the male did extremely well, even giving your scalp a quick massage.

"did i do good? can i do it again next time, please please?" he asks you, pulling you into his chest, "it's fun, i'm like your personal hairdresser."

you rolled your eyes, "sure, sure. free of charge, right?"

the male rolled his eyes, "of course not, there's a price to it. i get a kiss after, one for the tonic, one for the massage. deal?" he proposed, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips.

"i like that deal. deal."

TOJI FUSHIGURO. he hates it. on certain occasions — absolutely despises your hair when you're both cuddling, it gets into his face, his eyes, his mouth, everywhere where he doesn't want it to be. but out of that, he's perfectly fine with it.

"ah, fuck— doll, 'm going to cut your hair one of these days and make it look like an accident," he groans out, gently brushing your hair aside as your back was pressed onto his chest.

"cut my hair, and i'll cut this relationship short."

toji chuckles, pressing a light kiss on the area between your neck and shoulder, "you're mean," he mumbles into your skin.

as much as he said he'd cut it (as a joke), he'd find your hair really fun to play with sometimes; and his fingers would reach out to the edges of your hair, playing with it while his eyes are focused elsewhere. during movie nights, he'd be unaware of his lingering fingers in your hair as he watches; you didn't mind though, letting his hand just roam in your hair until the movie ends.

the male looks intrigued by your hair care routine, toji would always be there to watch you put care into your hair. sometimes offering to do it, and when he messes up he asks you to take over because he was scared of ruining your beautiful hair.

"ah, shit. i can't do it baby, you take over." he mutters out in annoyance, sliding the hair tonic over to you after failing to pump in the right amount of liquid into the pipette from his strong grip.

the male looks up hairstyles and sends the link to you, asking: "can you try this hairstyle, wanna see you in it." and is never disappointed with the result.

he makes himself the small spoon so your hair wouldn't get in his face — not that he's complaining, he likes being held by you.

"what're you doing, toji?" you asked in confusion, seeing the male curled up in bed.

"being the small spoon," he mumbles out.

and from then on, he is now the small spoon (he loves it, but would never admit it, telling you that it's just because of your hair).

CHOSO KAMO. he is the best at doing hairstyles, especially pig tails. choso is so delicate with your hair, treating every strand like they're his own. and he was the first one to offer to do your hair when he sees you slightly struggling with trying out a new hairstyle.

he would be independent to look up new hairstyles and come to you, asking if he could try doing your hair.

"hi y/n," he appears behind the bedroom door, peeking slightly with a small smile, "can i do your hair?"

when you tell him yes, he gets so happy and skips on the bed. telling you to sit down in front of him while he follows the tutorial patiently — and when he's done, he's always giddy to hear your reaction to his work. such a cutie.

"cho, this looks really pretty, thank you," you kissed his forehead, and the male shyly smiles at you.

choso sees you putting on a lot of things on your hair after a shower and he began looking up hair care routines on the internet, how to do them step by step, remembering everything so he could be the one doing your hair care routine for you.

"baby, baby! i wanna do your hair care routine," he tells you, tugging your hand with a smile on his face.

you, of course, let him. trusting him with it — and choso delivers perfectly, doing the steps you usually do with the right amount of things. it makes him really happy when you tell him thank you and awarded him with a kiss or two.

choso loves and adores your hair, he treats it like his own.

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makeyoumine69 · 4 months

Text

A Helping Hand (commission)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You and Patrick are engaged and about to become parents. One day, during a fancy party, you face the difficulties of being pregnant, as your changing body, affected by the hormones, hurts, but your future husband is always eager to help you.

CONTAINS: Semi-public smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, nipple play/sucking, pregnancy kink (kinda), fingering, praise kink, body worship, dirty talk, pet names, sweet & horny Patrick Bateman himself.

WORDS: 1.6k

A/N: I'm so happy to finally post this! Hope you like it!💞

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [COMISSIONS]

After a lavish party on the roof of one of Manhattan's skyscrapers hosted by the Bateman family, the sun was setting and it was getting a little chilly, so the waiters brought everyone blankets to keep warm. You, wrapped in a blanket, sat next to your fiance on the small plush couch, waiting for the car to pick you up and take you home.

Sipping your hot chocolate that had been made specially for you, you looked at him with undisguised affection and embarrassment as you wanted to ask him a question. "Patrick, I... I'm so embarrassed that I... you know... bite and scratch you during sex. Is that a bad thing? I just don't think you like it..."

Thank God the other guests weren't paying any attention to you, but you still felt uncomfortable. Patrick's family was also out of sight, probably talking to someone on the balcony. However, you had already shown your appreciation for hosting such a great event.

While you waited for his answer, you stroked your little baby bump, your breasts already got bigger, so the dress you were wearing was too tight and your nipples could be seen through the fabric.

Patrick paused for a moment, considering your question with a thoughtful look that slowly changed to an approving one. The embarrassment in your voice was clear, but it only served to amuse him.

"(Y/n)," he began, sliding closer to you on the small plush couch, "your... enthusiasm is one of your most exquisite attributes." He placed a hand on your knee, his fingers tracing small circles through the fabric of the blanket that covered you. "I revel in your responsiveness, Kitten." His grin grew wider, a clear indication that your concerns were unfounded.

"Really?" You murmured back, averting your eyes, still feeling so uncomfortable. "I just remember how meticulous you are about your skin and stuff."

The man leaned closer, lowering his voice so it was just for you, a husky whisper that brushed against your ear. "Let's be honest," his eyes glittered with a mischievous spark as he bit his lip lightly, teasing you. "You know how much I enjoy making a mess of you."

"Oh, Patrick…" You giggled shyly and rolled your eyes.

Bateman’s hand moved from your knee, daringly creeping up the blanket to rest on your slightly swollen belly, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your dress. The tautness of your nipples, visible through the strained material, did not escape his notice. "These marks," he continued, his gaze flickering down to where your breasts strained against the dress, "they are a powerful reminder of the intensity we share. And I wouldn't have it any other way." Patrick smirked while his touch grew bolder, fingers skimming the outline of your baby bump before sliding up to the outline of your breasts.

The sudden tingling in your nipples made you squirm in your seat; his words always had such an effect on you. "Patty," you pleaded suddenly, placing your cup on the nearby table and looking around briefly before continuing. "My... my nipples hurt... can you help me with that?" Embarrassed, you lifted the blanket, suggesting that it could hide both of you and no one would see you, since no one was around so far. "Sorry for asking," you added, averting your eyes, ashamed as ever. "It's just...the hormones...I didn't want to tell you…"

Excited, Patrick's lips curved into a knowing smirk at your bashful plea. The fiery blend of your embarrassment and the raw need that spilled from your words was a concoction he savored with every fiber of his being. Sneakily, he cast a cursory glance around the room, ensuring the relative privacy, before refocusing on you with the predatory gaze of a man who thrived on such deliciously improper requests.

"Do they hurt really bad, hmmm?” he echoed, his voice a low, silky ribbon of sound that wound its way around you with the tender brutality of a python. "And here I was thinking you'd have the restraint to wait until we were home. But if my little girl is in pain..." The man leaned closer, the scent of your arousal mingling with the warm, sweet aroma of the hot chocolate you had abandoned. "You want me to make it better?" the man questioned, his breath fanning over your skin as he lifted the blanket to create a hidden sanctuary for your naughtiness. "You always were sensitive to my words, Kitten. Can't say I'm not pleased to hear they still affect you so... intimately."

Panting, you bit on your lower lip to suppress any noises which could discredit you. "Yes," you closed your eyes and sprawled along the softness of the couch. "You know how to play with words…" gasping, you trembled beneath his hot breath. "...to set me on fire."

Under the guise of the blanket, Patrick's hand drifted to the fabric of your dress, deftly unbuttoning it just enough to allow him access to the tender flesh you so desperately wanted him to soothe. His fingers brushed against your skin, feeling the hard nubs of your nipples straining for his touch. "Is it so?"

Grabbing the plush material of the furniture, you were about to lose it here and now. "Mmm…y-yes….ah-Patrick!"

"Shh, baby," Bateman didn't falter, not even as he looked once more over his shoulder to ensure no eyes were upon you. "I’ve got you."

Then, with a dexterity honed by numerous clandestine encounters, he ducked under the cover of the blanket, his mouth closing over one aching nipple with a gentle suction that belied the fervor within him. The warm wetness of his mouth enveloped you, his tongue tracing the sensitive bud before drawing it further into the heat of his oral embrace. Purring softly, the man suckled with a rhythmic persistence, each pull designed to alleviate the tender ache as much as to stoke the flame of your shared desire.

Above the blanket, he maintained the expression of a man casually enjoying the evening with his fiancée, his free hand resting on the arm of the couch, the very picture of nonchalance. Beneath it, however, Patrick was entirely focused on you, on the softness of your breasts, the sweetness of your need, and the sound of your subdued moans as they were muffled by the fabric that concealed your indiscretion.

"Better now, Kitten?" Bateman murmured against your flesh, a dark chuckle vibrating through your nipple, sending shivers down your spine. His free hand wandered to your other breast, kneading it softly, ensuring that both received the attention they demanded.

The way his tongue danced across your hard peak was maddening, to say the least. “Uh-huh,” you stammered, closing your eyes, your cheeks burning from the inside. Then, you cautiously grabbed his large palm and moved it between your legs, making it press against your soaked panties. "I need you, n-need you so much, Patty."

Breathing heavily, you looked up at him, knowing that what you were doing was wrong and sinful, but the storm of hormones from being pregnant raged through your morphing body, making you a prisoner of the current situation.

Fortunately, you were still alone, and the car hadn't arrived yet. “A-aww,” you whimpered into his mouth as Patrick sealed your lips with his plump ones, not letting the sound escape from them. “Mhmnn…”

It was a silencing kiss, a masterful stroke of control that muffled your moan. Under the protective shroud of the blanket, his hand maneuvered beneath the delicate barrier of your underwear, his fingers tracing the soaked lace before delving into the slick heat of your pussy.

The soft, wet sound of his fingers sliding through your folds was nearly lost beneath the hush of your ragged breaths. Hot and bothered, Patrick pulled back from the kiss just enough to watch your face, your eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted in silent supplication.

"You're so wet, honey," Bateman whispered, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shudder through you. "This is what you need from me, isn't it? To be touched right here...where anyone could see what a bad girl you're being for me?"

The pressure of his fingers increased, finding your swollen clit, teasing it with a firm, circular motion that drew a whimper from you. "Be quiet, Kitten," he advised, his voice carrying an undercurrent of threat and promise. "Or you'll force me to stop, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Your hand gripped his wrist, a silent entreaty not to cease his ministrations. Patrick's chest swelled with a possessive pride—you were his to command, even amidst this semi-public setting. Your need for him, a need he had so thoroughly ingrained in you, was a testament to his mastery over your senses.

Your eyes met, his holding a compelling blend of dark yearning and authoritative control. Patrick’s fingers quickened their pace, coaxing you closer to the brink as he watched the storm of emotions play across your tensed face.

Patrick leaned in once more, his lips hovering over yours, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke. "Cum for me, (y/n). Quietly, right here on this couch. Let me feel you shatter against my hand." His words, laced with an illicit thrill, were a command that brooked no refusal.

And as Bateman brought you to the edge, as he felt the clenching and unclenching of your inner walls around his probing fingers, he savored the power he wielded. In the luxury of the waiting room, under the soft golden lights of the city outside, this man was the master of your pleasure—a master who would be worshiped in silence, in awe, and with the unspoken understanding that you belonged to him, completely and irrevocably, no matter where you were.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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kikker-oma · 22 days

Note

I made another thing based off of your whumptober art :)

This one in particular:

The old man sat on a log near the crackling campfire, awake for his watch and he had set his eye on someone in particular who had seemed...off. The vet was tossing and turning in his bedroll, eyes squeezed shut when he could see his face, but it wasn't relaxed like when he was asleep. He eventually crept down and whispered, "Vet?"

The veteran's eyes opened slightly, and the old man just noticed the bags under his eyes. "Yeah?" He replied in a whisper.

"I noticed you hadn't gone to sleep yet. It's third watch."

Legend groaned. "I haven't been able to fall asleep for a while, but I tried everything I could. Nothing to do about it."

That was worrying.

"Are you sure? I know a remedy, that you most likely haven't tried."

"Go for it, old man, I'll do anything at this point."

He pulled out the ocarina, and played the Song of Healing, closing his eyes to let the soothing melody reach the vet's waiting ears. He nearly fell asleep himself but finished the tune and opened his eyes. The veteran had his eyes closed and though he wasn't quite asleep yet, Time smiled, hoping that this would do the trick and did a quick patrol.

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

The old man noticed things. From the vet's stumbling and sloppiness during battle, to mess ups with conversations and answers. His seemingly random mood swings which seemed quite unusual for him. He had confessed that the song didn't do anything and for literal magic to not work, well, Time was more than confused. He had kept it to himself because the veteran pleaded with him to not worry the others.

One night he had second watch, and the vet had somehow ended up with first. He slept peacefully until he woke up and realized it was his turn for watch, and he hadn't been woken up by someone else. (His internal clock told him it was approximately halfway into second watch.) So he got up immediately, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and what he saw shook him.

The vet was trembling on his knees, and when the old man rushed to talk he noticed the expression on his face. There were tears pouring down his face, and his eyes were barely open, staring off into space. The old man noticed that the veteran's hands were shaking even more, arms wrapped around air. "Veteran?" Time spoke loudly. "Link?"

When he got no response, he got down on his knees in front of Legend and took his arms, repeating his name. "Uncle?" Legend mumbled wearily. "What're you doin'?"

"I need you to stay here, I'm going to go find help."

"Nnnooo, don't leave me," Legend gasped deliriously. "If you go to th' castle..."

"I'm not going to the castle," Time tried to reassure. "I just need you to stay with me, okay?"

"M'kay."

He whistled sharply, getting everyone up because this situation was getting dire and he needed help. "What's going on?" The captain questioned, voice a bit frantic.

"Our veteran. He needs help."

They were at his side instantly. "'ncle who're these people," the vet slurred, still staring off into nothing.

"Is he sick?" Sky frowned.

"I don't think he's been sleeping, at all recently," Time worried. "He said he tried everything but still couldn't sleep."

"I'm not trained for this stuff, I'm afraid," Warriors shook his head. "Traveller?"

"All I know how to do is magic," The traveller replied and shrugged looking downcast at the fact.

"Oh!" Wind snapped his fingers. "Someone on Outset had a similar problem. It was because they were really stressed and they fell asleep once they were more relaxed."

"Stress? That seems plausible," Warriors nodded.

"Link," Time uttered, catching the veteran's slow attention. "Tell me, are you stressed about anything? Worried?"

"I mean, 's a quest, Uncle, of course I'm going to be stressed sometimes."

"I know, but right now, what's troubling you specifically?"

"You're always so kind," Legend muttered after a long moment.

"This isn't going anywhere," Four whispered.

"Uncle, don't die."

Time swallowed concern for that statement, said with desperation and he looked helplessly at the rest of them. What could they really do? Why couldn't he figure this out? The chain looked at them as a leader, so why was he feeling so helpless right now? Why couldn't he help one of his boys?

Then there was one sentence that nearly drove the old man to his knees.

"If you die, Grandma Malon is gonna kill me...she already lost th' Hero 'f Time, and you're just as important. Don' leave me to save the world like he did."

THAT LAST LINE OMGGGGGGGG

LOOOOOORE!!

SECRETS SPILLED!!

THE REALIZATIONS TO FOLLOW!! AAAAAAGGHHHGGSHXJSBAHAIA

The Ocarina was such a good try, poor boys just don't know how they can deal with this sweet little sleep deprived man🥺

Gosh sleep deprivation is no joke, it's brutal for real

Thank you so much for writing this Uni! Your writing is a treasure as always❤️❤️❤️

#sweet uniquevoidflowers #ahhhhh I love that you wrote for that whumptober drawing!#and made such a cool story for it too🥰#fics for oma #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu time

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trumpkinhotboy · 2 months

Text

prank war | p.l

pairing. paul lahote x reader

type. requested <3

warnings. curse word?

word count. 1.4k

a/n. since i don't like writing summaries lmao, i think i will make it kind of official when writing requests that if you want to know what it will be about click the link to the request :) this was so fun to write this is def crack BAHA i hope you will enjoy mwah xx

"Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely positive."

"But what if-"

"Em," you gave your friend a severe look. Emily always tended to be too kind, but this you could not let her sensitive nature make your plan fail. "Might I remind you that we are cruelly losing this battle of pranks? Jared, Embry, and Quil have been launching us. This is our time to make a stand."

"I know but… I still feel a little bit bad about it."

"Do you remember when they put confetti absolutely everywhere in the house? We had to clean that mess for weeks. I think there is still some confetti on my body in places where there shouldn't be."

Emily was a neat freak, she did not tolerate any mess. You knew how she hated that particular prank and how it would be an easy way to rile her up. You smiled when you saw her gaze suddenly turn very dark and resolute. Bulls eyes. Without further questioning, she joined you.

Your plan for retaliation was quite simple, but you knew it would hit your enemies right where it hurt. After a few internet searches, you settled on baking the most horrible and foul muffins known to the human realm. The boys were huge eaters so first, you knew they could never resist the temptation of a hot basket of muffins. Second, they were all known for their sensitive stomachs. It was a classic yet very effective prank. You looked like mad scientists incorporating literally any ingredients possible into the mixture giving it a strange color.

"I don't think it can get worse than that," declared Emily as you looked at the finished product.

You examined the bowl on the counter, feeling like you were missing an essential element. "Wait! There's one more thing we can add."

You went over to the pantry and proudly held up the bottle of extra spicy sauce the boys were keeping for special occasions, aka when they wanted to burn from the inside out.

Emily applauded your genius and watched excitedly as you dropped some in the mixture, then some more, and just a tiny bit more until you had poured at least one table cup of hot sauce into the bowl. If the original mixture didn't make them sick, this would for sure.

"This is a work of art Em, we can be proud of ourselves."

You high-fived and rapidly cooked the muffins before the boys returned from their run.

Your opponents were werewolves, with incredible sense of smell. So you knew you had to be smart about it. Especially since they knew a prank might fall upon them at any given moment. You had planned everything to a T. When returning home, Quil, Jared, and Embry were usually the ones who came in first, which you counted on as you didn't want to prank the rest of the pack. Emily had smartly accounted for the boys' suspicion and made sure to bake two safe-to-eat muffins from the batch so you could fool the three guys into eating.

You made sure to use food coloring to give the muffins a rich brown color and sprinkled cinnamon along with a few other herbs on the muffins to make sure they would smell mouth-watering. You cleared away any hint of your actions and did it so well that when the boys arrived, no one could ever think something was going on.

You welcomed them joyfully with your best angelic smiles. As expected, it didn't take them long to notice the muffins, Quil even going as far as reaching out a hunger-crazed hand towards the bowl.

"Wait," suddenly cut Embry with a suspicious look in your direction. He slapped his brother's hand away. "What's the special occasion?"

Like professional actresses, you and Emily looked at each other. "Since when do we need special occasions to bake muffins?"

You rolled your eyes when Embry bent down to take a big whiff from the basket, but still lost a relieved breath when he didn't seem to smell anything out of the ordinary.

"Why aren't you two eating any?" skeptically asked Jared.

"Because we ate so much filling we might puke but if it reassures you I don't mind taking a bite."

You reached your hand out for Emily to pick the safe muffins from the basket and prayed she didn't mix them up. You leveled your stare at the boys and took a huge bite.

When the cinnamony and chocolate flavors hit your tongue you sighed with relief, putting your reaction on account of the amazing taste. "Delicious as always."

Your performance seemed to reassure them but they didn't grab any yet. Anxiousness rose in your body, you needed to get them to eat before the others came in.

They were still hesitating when Paul barged in, quickly kissed you on the cheek, and grabbed a muffin.

"Paul wait-" "Gonna take a shower," he muffled between chewing.

You stare at the doorway through which he disappeared, astonished. It happened so fast. You couldn't have warned him or else the other three would have known something was up. You turned to look at Emily with panic in your eyes. Her face was blank, her hands gripping the counter. Both of you were paralyzed, what should you do? Were you taking it too far by letting your boyfriend eat the nasty mixture just so you wouldn't raise suspicions?

You stayed paralyzed in the dilemma when finally Embry, Quil, and Jared each grabbed a muffin as you and Emily stared in silence.

They had eaten a good half of it when suddenly you heard Paul screaming and cursing in the bathroom. Everybody looked in the direction of the sound when he stumbled in already wet from the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THESE?"

Immediately, the three other boys looked at each other, then at you two. As if Paul's apparition had triggered the effect of the baked goods, sweat started dripping down their face, a disgusted rictus twisting their mouths.

They stared with horrified expressions. "What did you do?" asked Embry before he ran for the kitchen sink.

Even if you felt guilty Paul had been caught in the crossfire you couldn't help but feel a deep satisfaction as you stared at the three boys pushing each other and fumbling to get a sip of water. A sentiment clearly shared by your partner in crime when Emily said with an innocent smile. "What did we do? We baked you some yummy muffins of course. Isn't that right Y/n?"

"Why yes, we even added a few special ingredients to make sure you guys loved them." You added with a mischievous smile towards the three crying grown men still fighting for access to fresh water.

"That'll teach you right for putting confetti everywhere in MY house," finished Emily, leaning close to them.

They looked at her with what was sure to be fear in their eyes.

"I'm done I'm calling dibs on the bathroom sink," moaned Quil as he ran for the tiny room.

"I'm taking the hose outside!" cried out Jared.

Emily and you couldn't keep your cool from your devastating victory and started dancing around the kitchen, the grunts of pain in the house the most delicious melody to your ears. You were still laughing when you heard heavy steps enter the kitchen. Paul was standing in the doorway, still wet, still with a towel on but this time there was a half-drunk milk cartoon in his hands. A few droplets slid down his chest and the view might have even been appealing if the expression on his face wasn't so terrifying.

He took a step in your direction. "Baby I promise you weren't supposed to eat one of those. It was only for them. I'm so sorry!!"

"You could have warned me, tell me to stop,” he growled.

"But then they would have known. I'm so so sorry my love I promise I'll make you forgive me."

You kept walking back, hands up. Never a half-naked man had scared you this much.

"Oh, you will definitely pay for this." He dropped the milk on the table nearby. "And I think we will start by giving you a little swim in the cold sea."

"Paul it's freezing outside today!!" You protested with a panicked look towards the foggy forest.

"Should have thought about that before sweetheart.”

His lips curved in a diabolical smile as he leaped. You screeched and ran outside knowing damn well there was no way you could escape this.

#ilya writes #twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight renaissance #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolfpack x reader #twilight fics #jacob black #quil ateara #embry call #jared twilight #emily young

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blackswan446 · 2 months

Text

yandere bts headcanons

yan!bts headcanons -- general

cws: mentions of blood, allusions to suicide, mild stalking, mentions of murder

link to m.list

note: i think these are a bit long for headcanons but enjoy anyways i promise im working on wips ily guys so much!! thank u for ur patience <3

kim seokjin ! december 4, 1992

seokjin was a lonely, lonely guy.

he never had any friends growing up. for some strange reason, the world just rejected the poor boy, and anybody that didn't totally oust him never stuck around for long.

he could never understand why. he was caring, he was polite, and handsome. so why did everybody hate him?

because of his unfair reality, it wasn't uncommon for seokjin to form a sort of...attachment...to those who showed him the slightest shred of humanity. you were no exception.

one day, a day that would, unbeknownst to you, shape the lives of two people.

seokjin was in your civics class. you never heard much from him, even though you sat right next to him. he was just there, floating in the background, until one day, he was shoved into your view.

it was exam day, and the snap of seokjin's pencil was amplified by the silent room. the young man scoffed in annoyance as the lead rolled away, onto the rough, brown carpet.

at first you almost laughed. not at his misfortune, really, but his reaction. it was like something from a sitcom, but of course you didn't laugh. laughing would be rude, and you were not rude.

taking a thin, pink, glittery pencil from your open pencil case, you wordlessly slid it across the smooth table, the wood making a long scratch sound on the wood. seokjin looked over at the sound, and when he met your kind eyes, and saw your sweet smile, that was it.

reaching out his slender hand to take the pencil, he gave you a smile of his own, a small one, but it was the most genuine one he had worn in months. his heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he picked up from where he left off in his writing. only now, he could barely remember anything, the information now blurred and fuzzy.

from then on, you didn't just sink into the background to him. you didn't blend in with the other mess of college students he saw everyday. you were vibrant, and interesting, and full-of-life.

every time you spoke, he listened as if it were the most intriguing thing he had ever heard. every time you walked, he watched you like a movie. whenever you wrote, he read it like it was a sacred text.

that's all it was, though. just an interested boy studying an interesting girl. he knew he was on thin ice, but never really grasped the thought of what would happen if it ever cracked.

until one day, when he decided then and there to dedicate his life to the subject.

"seokjin, did you get question twenty right? i got marked down for it, but i don't know what i did wrong."

your voice was soft, and curious, and delicately met met his eardrums like hands met fine china.

"i, uh" he stuttered, looking down at the exam paper. unfortunately, he hadn't done well at all on the exam. sometimes he got the feeling the professor had some sort of hatred for him. however, he did get question twenty right.

"yeah, i did. you can look at it, if you want to." he offered, outstretching the paper in his shaky hand.

you accepted, standing next to him and taking the corner of the paper in your hand as you read his answer.

seokjin's heart pounded in his chest. he had never been this close to someone before, the sweet aroma of your perfume and gentle touch on his arm making his mind go hazy.

you nodded. "i get what i did wrong. thanks, seokjin!" you smiled, patting his shoulder as you bounced away from him. he hoped you didn't see the pink blush on his face as you left.

it was over for him, his life as kim seokjin. from now on, he was yours, all yours, for you to love and ruin and coddle and ignore as you pleased.

from the moment your electric touch met him, is when the ice shattered and he took the plunge into the harsh, choppy waters of...love? or obsession?

he didn't know. the line between the two was thin, almost nonexistent, and the ink was smudged by the thunderous waves that crashed around it. but instead of drowning in the icy ocean that surrounded him, he tread the water and swam like a shark.

by far, his favorite thing to do was follow you around. everywhere, everyday, no matter what.

what was the harm? it was fun for him, gave him a look into the life of the one he loved, and he could keep you safe--even from afar.

although it did have its downsides. and of course, the pain was given to him by the hands of other people.

he wasn't a fan of the other people in your life, your piano instructor, your coworker, even the professor in one of your classes. they were too close to you for his liking.

but his perception was botched. he didn't like anyone within six feet of you, so naturally he was biased against everyone.

there were letters, a lot of letters. detailing his love, his devotion, his disdain for the people around you. left in your mailbox, your seat, even in your bag.

some were sweet, just toeing the borderline between cute and weird. but others were just plain graphic, claiming to be motivated by love.

one of them, he even adorned with his own crimson signature. he drew the blood from his left ring finger. after all, it was the wedding ring finger, and the only finger that connected straight to the heart. how fitting!

he also sent gifts -- if he ever saw you linger in front of a shop window, gazing wistfully at an expensive bag, or watched you poke through the selection of plushies in a bin, he would make sure it wound up on your doorstep.

you were confused at first, but as time marched on, your confusion slipped into something closer to fear and concern. but somehow, it still just felt rude to throw out the...loving...gifts that fell into your lap.

and you were not rude.

min yoongi ! march 9, 1993

poor, poor yoongi.

no matter how hard he tried, all get got from his family were demands.

to do more, to do better, to be better.

it was like nothing he could do would ever please them. whenever his fingertips brushed the standard set for him, the bar was raised, just out of his reach.

for a long time, yoongi tried to convince himself that he wanted what his family wanted, that he wanted to become a respected lawyer and take over his family's law firm.

it felt wrong to want anything else, after all, this role was shoved into his lap before he was even born.

but it was when he got to college that he came to terms with the fact that he was not, and would never be, what his family wanted him to be.

all his life, yoongi had been drawn to the sweet tunes of the ivy keys and soft hums of the guitar strings, rather than the scales of justice. it only started as one more activity for him to do, sanctioned by his parents, but it turned into a true passion for him. it turned into an escape.

though it was a very real dream, it was just one more thing that was out of reach for him. all that separated the two was a thin piece of unbreakable glass, the reality so close he could almost reach out and grasp it.

so he tried to move on, he really did, for the sake of himself, and his parents.

but when he was gifted with an opportunity to teach piano to other college students, how could he refuse?!

most of his pupils weren't serious about it. some felt obliged to be there, thanks to feelings put forth by other demanding parents. others just needed an extra graduation credit.

but you just stood out to him.

not because of your musical abilities (though your ability to pick things up so quickly did impress him greatly!)

but because of the way he could let his guard down around you.

you were a chatty thing, unlike most of his other pupils, and you didn't waste any time in asking him about himself.

it took him by surprise, as most of the people he tutored didn't bother to say much to him.

so he told you he wanted to be a musician, but that he was studying prelaw instead. your eyebrows knitted together, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

"but you're so talented. and you want to be a musician. why not just go for it?" you wondered, voice soft and genuine.

your question caught him by surprise. if he were to say something half as radical as that around anybody in his family, he would earn a lecture and a smack on the head. so it wasn't surprising that he had to take a second to formulate an answer that wasn't a defense.

"thanks, [name]," he sputtered, "i wish it were that easy." he sighed, busying himself with the music sheets in front of him. you giggled, the underlying poke in his words flying over your head.

and from then on, his guard was down. for the first time ever. and he just loved it.

maybe, just maybe, if he had gotten that encouraging word ten years earlier, things would be different. maybe he wouldn't have grown to crave it the way he did.

it started small. just a little flame in his heart whenever he saw your name on his schedule.

the flame only grew with each passing week. it wasn't enough, seeing you once a week, it wasn't enough to extinguish the blaze in his heart. he needed to see you every hour of every day.

but the fire within him turned from adoration to anger one night, when he spotted you laughing with a group of people he didn't know.

they were using you, he thought. for your looks, your kindness, your intelligence. he was the only one who really cared for you, he knew it.

so of course, with your well-being in mind, he did his own research on these people. it was just harmless -- he only collected their addresses, their phone numbers, their family members. just in case.

but with every session that went by, of just the two of you playing piano, he found himself falling further and further into this unfamiliar void.

and he decided that he was bringing you with him. there wasn't anybody else who would keep him safe from the demands of his family.

so what if you were afraid of the dark? he would bring you a flashlight. it would be good for you, he absolutely knew it.

he knew it wasn't enough to see you for an hour every week. it wasn't enough to give you the music he'd written for you, with its soft melodies and sweet tunes.

it wasn't enough for him to drape his arms over your shoulders as you played, "adjusting your hands" as your fingers brushed over the ivory.

it was never enough.

and when he saw a some boy think he could put his arm around your shoulder one afternoon, the fire burned so hot there was only one thing left for him to do.

the very next day, the boy walked around campus, his hands sore and fingers in splints.

that same day, you skipped into the music room, and as you were chattering about your week, mentioned your dear friend and his accident and his poor broken fingers.

"that's awful," yoongi muttered, seemingly shocked at the incident, "if i got into an accident like that, i don't know how i'd go on."

the boy wasn't dead yet, but at least he couldn't play you piano.

jung hoseok ! february 18, 1994

apollo himself.

that's what you thought the first time you saw hoseok. with his bright red hair, his pretty face and radiant smile, he was the brightest looking person you had ever seen.

he had been the first to welcome you to your new job, at a small convenience store down the street from your school. he had also been the one to train you, and soon became your closet friend at work.

he was happy, for sure. he was eager, and helpful, and oh-so sweet to you. being around him was like a boost of energy and a jolt of excitement.

"thanks, [name].." he said shyly, after you had told him all of this. "i think you're all of that and so much more." he admitted with a smile, before you were interrupted by the door opening.

he watched dreamily as you rushed over to help the customer, your words sticking in his mind like honey.

he meant what he told you. he wanted to tell you so much more.

that you were unlike anyone he's ever met. that you were the best friend he's ever had. that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and that he loved you, so so much.

hoseok had always been the floater friend. kind and caring to the point he was the backup plan.

he helped his friends while they were down, caught them when they fell, listened to them cry and complain and rant.

all the while, they rebounded from their troubles, and were back in the game, leaving hoseok there. just waiting in the back.

he thought he didn't mind, he thought he was okay with it. but he couldn't keep ignoring the toll it took on him.

but you were a breath of fresh air. truly unlike anyone he's ever met.

you mirrored him. you took the time out of your life to talk to him, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself answering the same questions he asked the people in his life.

and quickly the memories of late nights spent by himself, long walks down the street debating if this was really worth it, and empty bridges that seemed to beg the same question, were gone and out of sight.

he found himself craving it, your care, your questions, your answers, your love, your hate, your attention, in any way he could get it. he wanted your eyes on him.

and the more time that passed, the more intense his cravings became. so he did whatever he had to do to keep your attention on him.

it started as small things: swiping various snacks and drinks from the shelves for your break, killing the bugs that found their way into the store (he knew you were petrified of them), putting away the heavy boxes and stepping onto the ladders for you -- anything he could do to make you so enamored that you would forget about the world outside of him.

he knew his little addiction was getting serious when he found himself at the store under the cover of darkness, long after you had gone home, shoving bills from the register into his pockets and leaving just as swiftly as he had arrived.

he had to fund his...hobbies...somehow, didn't he?

after all, axes were expensive. so were tarps, and gloves, and garbage bags, not to mention the gasoline and matches.

as much as he wanted to, as badly as he wanted to take a blade to every single other person you had ever talked to, he had to be careful.

after all, if you found out your sweet, sunshiney coworker had done that to the man that had scolded you at the register that day, you would never want to see him again.

the mere thought was too much for him to bear, so he didn't bother thinking about it too hard -- he just did what he had to.

kim namjoon ! september 12, 1994

being a professor was no easy job.

sure, it put food on the table and allowed him to socialize, but sometimes the students were almost too much to deal with.

but there was one thing -- one person, actually, that made it all worth it.

it started on his first day, in a medium-sized civics class, full of students he assumed wouldn't take him seriously and would give him nothing but trouble and a headache.

you hadn't caught his attention right away -- sure, you were gorgeous, but he hadn't thought much of it, there were a lot of pretty girls here.

the thing that had first drawn him was rather trivial -- a small act of kindness towards another classmate, by giving him a bright pink pencil after his had snapped. sure, it was kind, and the first such act he had seen on campus before, but not earth-shattering.

but what really got him was that smile. it stopped him in his tracks, froze him in place, and wrecked him in ways he had never experienced before.

over the course of the weeks, it became evident that you stood apart from everybody else -- for one, you were smart. and namjoon was a professor, so of course he loved smart.

aside from that, you were a sweetheart. and you were polite, and helpful, and funny, and you actually participated -- so many things that everybody else he had in his classes wasn't, that it made him wonder.

what were you doing here? why were you hanging around with a bunch of nobodies when you were obviously so much more? it was clear that you were special, and that he was the only person around that could give you what you needed.

so the only logical solution to this is that he would take you under his wing. he would keep your focus on him and off of the halfwits, so they couldn't corrupt you too. he was going to keep you safe, like any good teacher should.

and soon enough, namjoon found himself in love.

it didn't take long for him to weasel his way into your life -- for someone so smart, you sure were trusting. that didn't bother him, though -- it only made things easier for him.

it started after a particularly long and boring class, when he pulled you aside and asked about your interest in impressionist paintings, eagerly telling you how he had overheard the conversation between you and a friend the day before.

you didn't even get a chance to agree before he pulled six papers from his rather messy and cluttered desk. what were they? three printouts of his favorite impressionist paintings, and three printouts of italian macchiaoli paintings that he thought you'd like.

it continued from there -- nearly every single class, he pulled you aside to show you something he'd thought you would like, or ask your opinion on an era of literature. sometimes he would even give you something to keep, like a book or pamphlet.

it wasn't long after he started chatting to you about romance languages and ancient poetry did his friendliness become favoritism, at least in his eyes.

it was just subtle things, really, like boosting your grades just enough to avoid suspicion, looking the other way if you were late, and making sure to call on you first in class discussions.

he knew there was a line, though, and he made a point to never cross it.

except for the tracker he had put into your phone, one day after he had collected it for an exam. he knew it was excessive, borderline stalkerish, but to him, it was necessary.

he couldn't have anything happening to his little genius, could he?

and obviously he knew exactly why the boy who you had given the pencil to, and who could now not stop ogling at you, had suffered a major academic crisis in his civics class.

but that didn't count. he couldn't help it if the line kept moving forward.

poor namjoon. the more time that passed, the more frustrated he got.

you were smart. how could you not see it? did you ever see him treating any other student the way he treated you? when was the last time he gave anybody else a book of victorian-era artwork, or a collection of unfinished poetry?

and what irked him the most was watching the same people he wanted to keep you away from be all friendly and close to you, while all he could do was pat your shoulder, smile politely, and stand on the sidelines.

namjoon was smart. he knew he wouldn't be able to settle for this much longer. sooner or later, he was going to have to act, for your good and his own sanity. it was wrong, and it was strange, but he couldn't help it. he needed more.

park jimin ! october 13, 1995

jimin was nothing short of a sweetheart.

your closest and dearest childhood friend, your story began at the park, when you saw him sitting on a swing, kicking the mulch around and looking alone.

being the little social butterfly you were, you skipped over, sat on the swing next to him, and started talking, and that was that.

you stuck together all throughout childhood, high school, right up until you both left for college.

"promise me you'll call? and text? and visit me?" he pleaded, his hands resting on your shoulders.

you nodded and smiled fondly. "all the time, mimi. just watch, you'll be sick of me in a week. i'll call you every day." you promised, leaning up to link your arms around his neck and hug him for the last time in what seemed to be forever.

you had kept your promise to him, he knew you would, but he couldn't help but feel empty. like there was a broken, gaping hole in his heart, causing the life to spill from his body.

he knew there was something brewing, feelings that were went beyond friendly, even beyond romantic. feelings that, if he expressed him, would make him seem so messed up that you would never speak to him again.

he had felt them for years, and deep down, he knew what they meant. but he ignored them. he looked away, shoved them out.

and that's what he would keep doing until there was absolutely nothing left for him to do anymore.

it wasn't easy for him, and hadn't been easy for a lot of years.

he was ever the romantic, but of course you didn't know that. his pure love and adoration appeared to you as nothing more than him being a good friend. but in reality, the only thing he was doing was getting as close as he could.

bringing you your favorite snacks when you hung out was as close as he could get to bringing you a bouquet of flowers and a love note everyday.

retelling childhood memories and embarrassing stories to make you laugh when you were sad was the closest he could get to holding you in his lap and rubbing your back until you felt better.

letting you test out makeup and skincare products on him in the store was as close as he could get to your face without pulling you towards him and kissing you until you couldn't think straight.

as innocent as he came across, he knew something more sinister lurked underneath it all. and he felt it stir, whenever you mentioned your professor and your shared love of the humanities, or your coworker who embodied the sun, or the barista at your local coffee shop who had mastered your favorite coffee.

it was like something else washed over him, something that ignited a blaze in his heart so hot that even he was scared of getting burned.

what was weirder is that jimin was usually so pure. for god's sake, he still put both your names into those cheesy internet love tests. he still gave you a family together in the sims. he still wrote your initials together, surrounded by a heart bubble and a sweet message on the corner of every paper he could find.

but the thing that took over his senses was the polar opposite. it gave him awful, twisted, murderous thoughts. it tormented him, day and night, knowing that something like that existed within him. it scared him.

and it only got worse when you broke the news that a mystery someone had taken a liking to you, and was showering you with gifts and notes and everything else a sweet girl like you could ever want.

that was when it took over completely. that was when something inside of him snapped, shattered, was torn to shreds.

he knew that he couldn't hold up anymore. this was his call to action. he had to do something, he had to act, and if he didn't, you would be gone forever.

he wasn't going to stand by. he couldn't stand by. not anymore.

kim taehyung ! december 30, 1995

taehyung was mystery. at least, to you he was.

he moved in to your neighborhood during your freshman year of high school, and not once in the last four years you lived there before college did you ever hear a word from him.

you didn't even know his name, let alone his age or school. from your guess, he was about your age, and based off the school uniform you had seen him in a few times, he went to some hoity-toity private school on the other side of town.

the only thing that you knew for sure were that his parents were strict. like, really really strict. they hardly let him out of his sight, and a few times you had walked past the house and heard them loudly lecturing him on the importance of studying and how he could have fun when he was established.

what you obviously didn't know was that taehyung was fascinated by you.

he had seen you within the first week he had lived next door, and something about you had him hooked.

you were fun, and loud, and had a lot of friends, and were the opposite of everyone else he had ever gotten to know. and of course, his parents lectured him about you, telling him to "stay away" and that you were "careless and a bad influence".

but he couldn't peel his eyes away from you, even if he wanted to. he just couldn't look away.

pure curiosity was the reason he started peering through your window when you were in there -- never while you were changing though, that would make him feel like a bad person. but as you laid on your bed, scrolled on your phone, hung out with friends, or listened to music, his gazed always traveled to you.

the reason he started was curiosity. but the reason he stayed was pure fondness. he came to love watching you, observing your habits and behaviors, almost like he was living his teenage dreams through you.

it was also the reason he started to become a bit more...active in your life.

nothing crazy, after all, he lived under a hawk's eye, and there wasn't a whole lot he really could do without being chastised for it.

he wanted you to know, though, he wanted you to know how much he really adored you. he would send you flowers, whatever was in season, and various goodies from cute online shops, sometimes even sweets from a fancy bakery, and putting it all under the name of an aunt he didn't even know if you really had.

although he couldn't be sure all the time, he was fairly certain his fake aunt persona was working -- judging from how you would go upstairs and happily open the package, taking out whatever was in there and excitedly showing it to your friends on video chat, he assumed you were none the wiser to the reality.

as time went on, though, he found himself increasingly unsatisfied with just watching you. like a viewer who wanted to live in their favorite tv show, he wanted to be in your life. and the fact that he couldn't do that pained him worse than anything he had ever experienced. so, he coped.

one night, clad in a black hoodie and mask, he silently slipped out of the backdoor without rousing his parents from their sleep. it was surprisingly easy, making him wonder why he hadn't done this in the past.

he crept over to your first-story bedroom window, peering through the glass. he couldn't make out much since it was so dark -- but he could faintly see your sleeping form, wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by plushies.

it was almost too easy, how he slid open the window and hopped in. his heart was pounding at this point, the thought of waking you almost scaring him into going home.

but he didn't. he stayed, tiptoed around your room, looked at your desk, which was cluttered with pictures of you and another guy, whom he recognized as a close friend of yours, and read through your school notes.

your handwriting was beautiful, he noticed, the swoops and curves of the letters looked more like ancient artwork rather than history notes. he felt a surge of excitement as he saw your white leather desk chair, the same one he had fondly watched you spin around in for what felt like hours on end.

he felt like a kid in a candy store, as he rifled through your other belongings, flipping through books and poking through your jewelry as he fought the urge to steal anything for himself.

just as he was just making himself at home in your room, you stirred noisily in your sleep, causing him to practically leap out of your chair and clamber back out the window -- but not before blowing you a kiss.

it wasn't the last time he would do that, in fact, nearly every night he found himself back in the warm embrace of your cozy room. it gave him a taste of not just your life, but the life of a normal teenager. the life his parents had robbed him of.

and he wanted more.

you left for college a week before he did. and the first night you were gone, he found himself at the now-locked bedroom window. an awful sense of dread bubbled up in his heart as he realized the reality: you were gone. he had lost you.

he vowed to himself that things were going to be different next time. that he was going to change. and that by the time next fall rolled around, neither of you would be going back to college.

jeon jungkook ! september 1, 1997

jungkook was young.

well, the youngest person that worked at the coffee shop. which was surprising, seeing as it was located right by a college campus.

his job was fairly robotic -- greet the customer, take their order, and make the occasional drink.

however, there was one really, really good part of his job, and it was the fact that he got to see and talk to you almost every single day.

the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the way you smiled and greeted him, your cool nails, your decorated wallet, everything about you intrigued him, made him want to see you more.

in reality, the only thing he knew was your name. other than that, you were a total stranger. so how could a total stranger captivate him in such a way?

he didn't know. he was just young and in love. and shy, which is why he refused to make the first move. he would never recover from a rejection like this.

but that didn't stop him from acting like he was your one and only. nothing could stop him from doing that.

and he fell hard -- so hard, in fact, it wasn't uncommon for him to wake up from a dream in which you had been the main character, or for him to think of you when he saw a cool bag or drank your favorite coffee.

but no matter how intensely he loved you, he had to accept the fact that to you, he was and would always just be the cashier from the coffee shop.

it didn't get to his morale, though. in fact, it motivated him. he was determined to stand out to you, to stay in your mind as much as you were in his, to the point where you couldn't take it anymore and would finally ask him out.

so he worked.

some of the things he did were innocent, like watching hours of youtube videos on how to craft your drink perfectly, slipping in a free pastry here and there, and even looking up love potion recipes online. of course he knew they weren't real, but that didn't stop the fantasy from playing out in his head.

and some were...a bit sly.

sometimes, he'd get to work a bit early, just so he could hide the ingredients to your favorite drink, which meant that when you came in and his coworkers were inevitably scrambling to find the ingredients for your order, he would get more time to hear your pretty voice.

he even started collecting the little things you left behind -- receipts with your signature, straw wrappers, even pocketing some of the coins you gave him to pay for your drink. these little artifacts lived in their own museum in his locker, which his coworkers just thought was messy.

but one day, something happened that made him realize he had to step up his game, or be miserable forever.

one day, you came in, except you weren't alone. there, in a place beside you which should have been his, there was a boy. his hair was a vibrant red, he wore colorful streetwear and had a smile that could only be compared to sunshine.

but he didn't care about that. who was this guy, and why was he with his girl?

tongue-in-cheek, and with a fake smile plastered on his face, he suffered through taking your order as normally as he could. but of course, he wasn't going to let this freak get away with something like this.

so as he prepared the drinks, he made yours perfectly, just as he had seen online. but for your little friend, he quietly slipped in a clump of salt, stirring it with the straw and handing them both to you with a smile.

he couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that swelled in his chest as he watched the happy boy's expression contort into one of confusion and disgust with just one sip of the drink.

but later, on his break, he brooded over the incident. who was he? why was he with you? was he going to take you away? what if you never came in again?

as the thoughts swirled around in his head, it became obvious that something had to be done. he needed you all to himself, and it was going to happen by any means necessary.

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taintandviolent · 2 months

Text

Ache ; Roman Godfrey x secretary!Reader

summary: [PART TWO TO THIS FIC!] It's only been a week and a half since secretary!reader and Roman's little interaction in his office, but he's pretending like nothing happened. When reader decides to have a night out, Roman's jealousy gets the best of him and he intervenes.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.3K | themes of jealousy and possessiveness, mentions of alcohol, Roman kind of being aggressive for no reason, blood kink, blood consumption, cunnilingus (female receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, finger sucking, mind control.

a/n: idea/requested by @xxbimbobunnyxx! thank you so much for having thoughts and letting me indulge in my sicko thoughts about this tall Swedish man, baby!! i hope you love this! not really beta-read, as per usual. forgive me. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It had been a week and a half but it had felt like an eternity to you, if you were being truthful with yourself. Business ran as normal; your menial tasks and appointment setting resumed. Roman looked at you the same way he always did, unnervingly, hungrily, with his lips pursed forward and wide eyes following you as you walked past, but he hadn't mentioned it. In fact, it was as though it had never happened at all. There were no secretive touches, no lingering smirks... he'd hardly called you into his office, in fact. Aside from work-related topics, he was all but ignoring you.

He'd told you not to mention it to anyone, but you thought there would be something, some semblance of recognition in his eyes when your gazes met. If there was, it was masked by his own impassive aloofness. You were frustrated in every way, but most of all sexually. Your nights at home were spent furiously masterbating in your bathtub or your bed, sometimes with a vibrator, sometimes without, trying to reach the same level of orgasm that you had with Roman. Each attempt was futile, and ultimately, a failure. On Friday night after work, you'd decided to go to one of the few bars in town, in hopes that some alcohol would untangle the mess of wires that your nervous system had become.

Still dressed in your silk blouse, tight pencil skirt and heels, it didn't take you long to attract the attention of a guy. You were truthfully thankful for the flirting, and your willingness to chat with him inadvertently turned into a date. He'd bought your first drink, while he nursed his second casually as the conversation naturally progressed. His name was Jacob, he had lived in Hemlock Grove all his life, had a daughter, and worked at the Fire Station. He was handsome, certainly enough to hold a conversation with. He was sweet, you could tell. His fingers brushed against yours delicately as he reached for his glass, sending a shiver up your spine. The way his soft smile curled up on one side, his soft, chocolate button eyes watched you as you spoke...

With a polite smile, you answered his latest question, bouncing one of your patent leather high heels off the tip of your toe. "Oh, I work at the Godfrey Institute."

"Wow." He said, impressed. "The Institute? What's that like?" His expression was one of genuine curiosity, which, to you, was normal. Most people wondered about the massive, ominous structure that overlooked their town. You could hardly blame him, you'd been one of them prior to working there.

You blinked. What was work like? Without warning, your mind's eye was flushed with red and you could almost taste him on your tongue. Roman fucking you over his desk, mercilessly, while the blood dribbled onto your naked body. You thought about the way his cock felt as it pushed into you, the swollen, red tip parting your slick folds. You thought about his hands as they explored you, flesh tasting flesh hungrily and the way that he slipped his long fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck them, to drink someone else's blood.

"That bad, huh?"

"What?" You blinked again.

"That was way too long of a pause. It's that bad?"

"No! No," you stammered, taking another sip of your drink. "It's not bad at all. It pays well. Good benefits. My boss can just be... a lot to handle."

You had to control your smirk; you handled him just fine. Fighting your own expression, you brought the tiny straw to your mouth and sucked down some liquid.

"Aren't all bosses a lot to handle?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "But Mr. Godfrey is... different."

"Well," he murmured, leaning in closer to you. "He better not be mistreating you. You're too pretty for that."

A demure, gracious smile crossed your lips as he leaned into you, nudging you with his shoulder. It was playful, but held intention, you could feel it. You took another sip of your drink, staring coyly at the ice cubes.

That was when you felt it; the inviting haze. It held a promise of a command, something you'd be compelled to do. Which, at that point, could be anything. Your cunt immediately responded to the familiar sensation, desperate for his attention again. She clenched and you shuddered violently, gasping aloud.

"You okay?" Concern laced his voice.

"Yes, yes, sorry."

Jacob took a swig of his own drink, grinning into it as he did. He thought the reaction was from him, and it gave him a boost of confidence to slip his arm around your hips and pull you close to him.

"I think you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen..." Jacob spoke into the shell of your ear, whispering sweetly. Another shiver erupted at the base of your neck and travelled downwards. His breath was hot, and smelled invitingly like whiskey. For a fleeting moment, you thought about turning your head, brushing your lips against his soft ones. After a week of nothing but iciness, it would’ve been so nice to feel someone against you, wanting you, craving you.

That was until the overwhelming urge to turn around took control of your body, akin to the sensation of feeling someone's eyes on you. Your skin prickled. Panicking, you pivoted your body and searched the faces in the bar, flitting from one to another. None of them were the face you were looking for, none of them held the gaze that you felt.

You spun around to the other side, your hair whipping around your shoulder. Though smoke clouded the bar, you could see him clear as day. He stood at the other end of the bar, elbows propped up on the edge, a scotch glass loosely dangling from his hand. His green eyes seemed to cut through the haze, locking onto you in a troubling grip. He didn't look happy - he looked the way he did before he yelled at someone at the Institute, his chest heaving with drawn out, frustrated breaths.

Masking your nerves, you turned back to your drink, pinched the straw between your thumb and forefinger and flung it behind you, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. The rest of the liquid flowed down your throat, stinging as it went. It provided no relief to the tightness in your stomach, unfortunately.

"Woah, hey, what's the deal? You okay?" Jacob asked, his hand on your forearm.

"I..." You turned around again, expecting to be caught in Roman's gaze again... but he was gone. That was somehow more unsettling.

"Y/N…"

"Woah, shit. Where'd you come from?" Jacob jumped, his knee bumping into yours.

Your head turned slowly at the sound of his voice. He stood behind Jacob, a polite smile spread across his full lips. To someone who didn't know him, it would be a convincing one. To you, it wasn't. You'd seen him smile condescendingly at someone before ripping into them too many times. There was malice behind it and his eyes confirmed it.

The reaction that your body had to him was embarrassing and honestly unwarranted. It wasn't like you hadn't seen him in a week and a half; you saw him mere hours ago, but his attention hadn't been on you in the way it was now. Your cheeks flushed, your cunt throbbed in your underwear, desperate to feel him again.

"Sorry for interrupting."

Still obviously put off by his sudden appearance, Jacob nodded slowly. "It's... fine..."

"Jacob," you started, flashing a bright, albeit fake smile. "This is my boss... Mr. Godfrey."

Being the obvious gentleman that he was, Jacob stuck his hand out first. It seemed Roman was completely content with tightening his smile and giving the man a nod but after a few painful moments, he finally shook the man's hand.

"Unfortunately, I have to steal her. Very pressing matter at the Institute." Roman’s long fingers wrapped around your bicep, enveloping it. His steel grip hurt, but you didn’t dare say anything.

"Now, wait a minute." Jacob interjected, standing up from the stool.

"Get lost." Roman hissed, stepping forward slightly. "Now."

And just like that, Jacob got up from his seat, put a twenty on the bar and walked towards the door. Feeling the warm stream flowing from his nostril, Roman wiped his nose, the blood collecting on the back of his hand. You stared, dumbfounded. Had Jacob really given up that easily? Or was there something to Roman Godfrey that you hadn't considered? You looked from the door back to your boss, who god – really towered over you.

"What did I say?" Roman asked, sternly.

"Nothing about that." You retorted, shaking your head, your confidence wavering. Though nothing had been exchanged about that, you knew what he meant.

"I told you to..."

"No," you corrected, cutting him off. "You told me not to tell anyone about what we did. I haven't."

"Maybe you need a reminder."

You thought about retorting with something smart, but Roman took a step closer to you, holding his hand up to your face. The smell of iron hit your nose. Instinctively, your tongue flicked out, lapping at the small streak of blood on the back of his hand. As before, the taste of it made you want to gag, but it aroused you all the same.

"Mr. Godfrey," You cooed, looking up at him with doe eyes. "Am I not allowed to enjoy myself on my own time?"

Roman raised his brows, as if to ask if you'd been enjoying yourself. You had been... to a degree. Despite Jacob being nice, you knew that fucking him wouldn't be the same as fucking Roman. It wouldn’t satiate the hunger that pulsed deep within your pussy, he wouldn’t fuck you the same way. That was all he needed; he laughed through his nose. He stiffened above you, somehow elongating even more.

"Your cunt is aching for me, I can smell it."

Fuck. The humiliation had you wanting to whine and throw your body against his, wrapping your arms around his neck like you had a week ago. Writhing, you pressed your thighs together tightly. Roman’s eyes flitted down, watching as you rubbed them together pathetically, desperately trying to alleviate the throbbing sensation.

“What am I supposed to be reminded of? As though I’ve stopped thinking about it.”

“Oh, really?”

You rolled your lips inward and bit down, closing your eyes. He hadn’t even asked you to say that, you’d just done it on your accord. The drink you’d had must’ve been working – at what, you weren’t sure. Humiliating yourself? You took a breath, pacifying yourself.

“Remember what I said about not firing you?” He asked, his voice low.

“What? I’m fired?”

He laughed breathily, rolling his eyes away from you, then back. “No. But if you keep fucking around, I might reconsider.”

“Fucking around?” You asked, shocked, pain darkening your gaze. “I had a drink with a guy! I wasn’t aware that it was off-limits.”

“You’re my personal assistant, remember me saying that? I need you available whenever the fuck I want you available. Not fucking some random guy in a bar.”

Your pussy twinged with heat and the tugging sensation in your stomach worsened. Though he hadn’t said it, his motivations were obvious; he was jealous and he wanted you available for him at all times. Though somewhere, you were sure that you should feel disrespected, you couldn’t find it in yourself to acknowledge it. There was a workplace violation here somewhere. Your tongue darted out, running along your bottom lip teasingly.

Suddenly, you said: “Fine, then. I’m going home.” Partially, it was a test. The thrill of the chase.

“Probably a good idea.” He flashed his brows at you, almost expectantly.

You turned on your heels, allowing your hand to drift behind you just enough to graze Roman’s swelling cock through his perfectly pleated dress pants. You heard him inhale a breath through his teeth, but he didn’t follow you. As you pushed through the door, he was still standing by the bar, watching you.

Outside, the cold night air bit at your cheeks, but you were in the car before the frigidness penetrated too deeply. You tossed your purse onto the passenger seat, retrieved your keys from it, and started the engine. Leave it to him to frustrate you, yet again. Now, not only were you unimaginably horny, but you were unable to get your kicks with anyone else, because God forbid Roman needed something. Fine, if he wanted to play, you’d play. Tomorrow, you devised, you’d be as aloof as he was. Your mood would be a mirror, reflecting whatever his was.

Unbeknownst to you, the cherry-red Jaguar pulled out behind you moments later, gravel crunching underneath the tires. You huffed and reached for the stereo knob, turning it halfway. Music filled the car with a peppy and happy beat – something that didn’t match your mood at all.

As you drove, your peripheral was filled with blackness. Hemlock Grove was dark at night. Really dark. The woods that surrounded the town seemed to go on forever, trees looming up around you like soldiers that guarded the population. Then, there was the issue of the wolves…

You looked in the rearview mirror and squinted, blinded by the headlights of a car – but not just any car. You recognized that car anywhere, having seen it parked at the Institute every day. He was following you awfully close, probably making sure you weren’t trying to lose him. That was the last thing on your mind. In fact, you were silently praying that he followed you all the way home… but, just to test him, you eased your foot into the gas pedal, watching as the speedometer crept higher. For as masterfully as you handled the roads, Roman handled them better. His headlights never left your mirrors.

As you pulled into the driveway of your modest little house, you switched off the music and killed the engine. You glanced at the rearview mirror again, delighted to find that Roman was blocking you in. Though your address was on your resume, he now had a visual of where you lived, and knew how to get there whenever he wanted. You shivered excitedly at the thought. With a smirk slicing your features, you walked around to the back of your car, hands on your hip. Roman was getting out of his car, elongating. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he closed in the distance between the two of you, and his hands gripped your waist tightly, fingers jabbing into the soft flesh. Roughly turning you around, Roman pinned your hips between his and the trunk of your car. Invading your personal space, he urged his back against yours, forcing you downwards.

“Jesus Christ, are you insane? My neighbours will see.”

His expression darkened, as if he was considering doing it anyway. Planting your hands on the trunk, you pushed your back against his chest again but behind you, it was as though he was made of iron. Didn’t move, not even a little bit. Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. Fighting against him, you grunted. What was he doing?

“Stop it,” you pleaded, trying to press yourself upwards. “W-we can’t do this out here.”

As if Mother Nature herself wanted to thwart his attempts, the clouds that had loomed, obscuring the moon all night, finally decided to dump. The deluge drenched both of you within seconds, thunder rumbling above. You twisted your body to glance behind you. His perfectly arranged hair was now mussed; dark, dripping strands hanging in front of his forehead. He was staring pointedly at you, burning holes into your skin.

Finally, Roman conceded to your worries – or maybe just didn’t want to get any wetter – and shoved himself off you with an angry, annoyed huff. With a jerk of his head, he encouraged you to move. He followed you up the small pathway, and you’d hardly put the key in the slot before you felt Roman’s body pressing into yours, forcing you inside. You dropped your bag on the small bench by the door, and turned to the looming figure behind you.

“Why are you being so…” your voice trailed off, partially afraid to vocalize what you were going to ask him.

He didn’t answer, again, and instead, his lips found yours, his tongue slipping in past your teeth. He tasted like scotch; warm and seductive. While still kissing you – gentler than he’d ever been – walked you backwards. You were more than happy to blindly let you guide him off a cliff at this point. Abruptly, Roman’s hands met your chest, shoving you hard back against the sofa. It almost punched the breath from your lungs, but you steadied yourself, looking up at him.

“What is your problem?” You furrowed your brows. “Are you really that upset with me? You never told me that I couldn’t have a drink with a guy.”

“Do you not listen? I said I need you available whenever the fuck I want. For whatever the fuck I want.”

Roman kicked your feet apart, the spikes of your heels catching on the fibres of the sheepskin rug below you. Slotting himself in between your thighs, Roman got to his knees, his hands cupping your kneecaps. He harshly pulled your legs apart, the fabric of your skirt gathering at your hips as he did. You were exposed to him, the thin strip of your underwear barely covering you. The smoothness of his chin ghosted along your thigh, his lips grazing the flesh just before he reaches where you want him. It takes everything in your power not to push him between your legs, onto your aching cunt, but somehow, you resisted the urge, and dug your nails into the sofa cushions instead.

He bent his head down, tongue stretching out over his lips and immediately, you felt the hot rush of his breath wash over you, your stomach clenching tightly in anticipation. As the tip of his tongue delved between your folds, you jerked against the soft fabric of your sofa. Your back arched, pressing against the resistance of the cushions. With his mouth still attached to your clit, his bright green eyes flitted to you, brows lifting on his forehead. Long arms unfolded from your legs, reaching up to your breasts like two shadows. His hands cupped them outside of your satin blouse, attempting to thumb your nipple through the layers but quickly decided that it wasn’t good enough. With a quick flash of movement, Roman had ripped your blouse apart for the second time. You bit back a yelp.

As he rolled your nipples between his fingers, pinching them here and there, his eyes drank you in, watching as the shifting shadow pattern of the leaves danced across your bare skin. The storm raged on outside as Roman devoured your insides like one of the supposed wolves in the woods. His tongue flicked quickly at her before he paused to lick a long stripe from your entrance upwards, lingering to drive the tip into your clit. God. The buzzing contact made you scream and writhe and cry. He growled into her as you cried out, never relenting. With pathetic, slutty moans punctuating his every move, you rolled your head back against the sofa, letting your eyes drift shut. Every time he made contact with her, kitten licking and teasing you with intention, you whined. While his tongue stayed busy, one of Roman’s hands drifted away from your hardened nipple, and slithered back down until it found your wet entrance, prodding the slit curiously. Your body convulsed, a desperate whimper falling from your lips. He was going to fuck you. No, he was going to overstimulate you.

He sank his fingers all the way in, to the knuckle, and began pumping his wrist back and forth. Two fingers opened inside you, stretching you out before curling up to hit the sensitive, spongy flesh deep within you. Your nails scraped along the fibres of the sofa cushion, flailing for something to grip onto.

“Oh my fucking god… Oh my god.” Involuntarily, your hips began rolling with his motions, driving his fingers in deeper to you with every thrust.

“Good girl,” Roman muttered, the humming vibrations sending a shockwave through your core.That cold voice with the slight lilt of an accent you couldn’t place – it did something to you. The first warning clench. Oh no. Your pupils dilated at the feeling, your breath quickened. He was going to make you cum, possibly faster than you ever had in your life. You couldn’t remember how many times you’d tried to make yourself orgasm in the past week, but he somehow managed to do it within minutes.

“Fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, I’m gonna’...”

Your breath catches in your throat. And just like that, the sensations were gone. You stammered out some words of displeasure, lifting your head to look up at him. Roman stuck both his glistening fingers in his mouth, suckling them like a greedy child. Your legs were still quivering when he took hold of them, pulling you closer to the edge of the sofa. “Did I say you could cum?”

You panted, feeling frustrated. Your body screamed in agony over the lack of stimulation, and every time you clenched, you felt the hot burn of an orgasm denied.

“Did I?”

“N-no…”

You collapse against the sofa, shuddering. Agony. Nothing but agony. This entire week had been nothing but an edge-fest, and there he was, edging you some more. You felt your expression contort into a frown, tears welling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his belt buckle brought you back, snapping to attention. You looked down between your legs just in time to see Roman pull his stiff cock free, a bead of precum leaking from the slit. The tip was blushing, and looked hot to the touch. You squeezed your thighs together, sandwiching the head into the pillowy flesh of your thighs – it was.

Roman didn’t give you any time to prepare. Once the tip breached your slit, he sank in until your torsos touched. You gasped, leaning forward in slight discomfort. He paused for a moment, letting your body adjust to the girth.

“So fuckin’ tight.”

He began thrusting, quickly. Repeatedly impaling you with his cock, moving his hips back and forth in half circles, Roman’s movements were controlled, hitting you in a spot that made you cry out with each thrust. You suddenly rasped his name, disrupting his rhythm. It was the first time that you’d called him Roman as opposed to Mr. Godfrey, and the intimacy of the gesture had his cock throbbing within your slick pussy. He leaned forward, clenching his teeth.

“You’re mine, you fucking know that?” His lips moved against your ear as he spoke, sending a violent chill down your spine.

Between laboured pants, you nodded weakly. He did it so well. He did everything so well – without trying – and it had you in pieces. You couldn’t take it back, the feelings that had been roiling inside your system for weeks had been confirmed. Now he knew it, because you acknowledged it. No going back.

“That’s right.” Roman leaned into you, pressing his cock further into you, grinding down into you until you saw stars. As he chased his orgasm, fucking you hard against the sofa cushions, the head of his cock relentlessly pounded your insides – hammered into a part of you that ached. You held onto his shoulders, pressing yourself up against him just to feel the warmth of his skin against your own. Roman pulled you up further, his long arms winding around your back with ease. His cock slipped out from inside you, bobbing against the inside of your thighs, smearing a mixture of arousals on the hot flesh. After a little bit of rearranging, he hoisted you up into his arms and sat down on the sofa, lowering you back down onto his length slowly.

As the muscle clenched around his cock, Roman let out a deep grunt, inhaling through his teeth. The feeling of being so full overtook your systems. You were blanking, unable to speak and barely able to think over the heavy thudding of your own pulse. Roman’s hand finds your neck, gripping it softly. Your pulse hammers against his fingers, and groaning, he bucked his hips up into you just a little bit harder.

“Fuck – I…”

“What? Talk. Use your mouth, or I’ll use it for you.”

With a devilish smirk, you almost considered stuttering again, just to see what he’d do. You moaned. “Feels– feels so good. I wanna’ cum.”

“Yeah? Gonna’ cum all over that cock, you little whore?”

You nodded, using your leg muscles to bounce faster atop his cock. Every time the tip hit your cervix, you winced, but it was an ache that you’d been craving for almost weeks. Gasping, you threw your head back, running your hands up your torso. The skin was feverish, your whole body was on fire, it felt like every inch of exposed skin was engulfed at that point. Roman’s hands clamped onto your hips, lifting you up off his cock slightly. Mouth hanging slack, eyes lust blown, he began thrusting up into your sopping cunt. Faster and harder and over and over and again and again, until you came, screaming into his shoulder.

His own orgasm came shortly after, coating your insides with his blisteringly hot seed. He kept thrusting until your clenching stopped, and the white oozed from your cunt. With a whimper, you rolled off his lap and collapsed into the crook of the sofa. Your chest heaved, sweat dripping down from every place it could.

Roman lifted his hips up to pull his trousers back up, tucking his softening cock into his briefs. He ran a hand through his hair before pushing himself up off the sofa, heading straight for the door. You straightened up, bringing a pillow to your stomach.

“Where are you going?”

Coldly, he said: “I’ll see you tomorrow. Wear a dress.”

The door shut behind him. Tomorrow was Saturday. What did he mean by that? What was his fucking problem? God, you loved it.

#Roman Godfrey #Hemlock Grove #Bill Skarsgard #Bill Skarsgård #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey x y/n #roman godfrey smut #bill skarsgard smut #fem reader #afab reader #dark smut #myfics

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lightwing-s · 8 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: since your last encounter, jason has been living rent free in your head. you didn't want to, you needed more, and more found you in an unexpected way.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 7,6k warnings: yn's dirty thoughts, sex, p in v, language, breast play,

a/n: i got lazy and gave up proof reading (again). i also got too excited and ended up writing a lot more than planned, but hey, i got to watch 'the devil wears prada' to write this, so it's a win!! Hope you enjoy it and see you in chapter four.♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

“And the Blades are offside! Still no score here in Seattle, as the Gotham Blades and the Kraken face off in…” announced the caster excitedly, the game going on without Yn paying a dime of attention.

Sunday blues had gotten to you. Following an unusually chilly summer night, rain came pouring down just as you’d arrived home, covering the entire city in a dome of dullness and melancholy. Laying on your stomach, the living room darkened by the closed blinds, and the game on tv a long forgotten past time, the images of the previous night still loomed in your head.

‘Why did you do it, Yn?’, was the question clouding your mind the entire day. ‘Why did you do it?’

Why did you allow yourself to go to bed with the guy you despised? Why did you have those feelings in the first place? It was confusing. Everything about Jason was confusing. You never liked each other, and yet he’s all sweet and nice to you all of a sudden. He’s taking you to the hospital. He’s making sure you’re not alone. He takes you home, makes you food in the middle of the night. All after being an asshole for the past two months.

Why did he change? When did he change? Was he always like that but you never paid attention to, or was it just a play, a trick he’s trying to pull in your mind? Is he trying to confuse you purposely, trying to play with your mind? He wouldn’t, would he?

It if wasn’t for the knocking on your door, you’d continue to torture yourself for the next few hours. Thoughts of Jason and his fucked up game flooding your mind. You heard the knocking again, groaning loudly, not wanting to leave the warmth of the sofa. But the sweet voice calling your name made you do it.

“Thank god, you’re alive!” Nessie sang, throwing her hands up in the air. Her words did not match her expression, however, painted in the most perfect mix of anger, worry and bad hangover. “Where were you?!” she asked, and you too repeated that same question at her.

“I looked for you all over the party!” you answered exasperated.

“Me too!” she informed. “I looked for you all over and Sammy said he saw you leaving with a guy behind you and that you were pissed drunk. I was fucking worried!”

“Sammy means bullshit,” you angrily replied, storming back to the sofa as you let your neighbor and friend close the door behind her, knowing full well this conversation would last long. You threw yourself on your previous seat, pulling your blanket over your legs and crossing your arms on your chest like a little child.

“So, you didn’t leave with a guy?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised at you and a concerned expression adorning her face. “I swear to God, Yn, and I’m not even religious. If anyone did anything to you, I swear I’ll…”

“We didn’t do anything!” you basically screamed, feeling as if the room conspired against you. You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall out. You’d hoped you would be able to hide it. Leaving it a secret from the world could mean it was never real to begin with.

“So, there was someone?” she kept her eyes on you, sensing there was something more to it. Watching your usual polished self start to crumble into a nervous mess. You wanted to deny, gaslight your way out of this. But Nessie was smart, and she knew you. She could read all your signs and tell instantly none of your words spoke the truth.

There was nothing you could do. You were now on a crossroad where any direction, any ideas, wouldn’t take you anywhere. You had to spill it. “I couldn’t find you and Jason had helped me look…”

“Jason the hot guy you were pining after?” she cut you off, her face suddenly changing from concern to slightly but mild excitement.

“I was not pining after anybody!” you argued, trying once more to clear her mind out of these stupid ideas. “He was helping me look for you, and since you weren’t anywhere to be found he took me to his apartment because he was worried about leaving me alone, okay? He was nice and sweet, but nothing else happened. Nothing!”

Nessie sat silently beside you on the sofa, staring at you blankly while she absorbed all the information you ‘d thrown at her. Under your breath, you prayed she’d stop there, that she’d be satisfied with your answer. Unfortunately, God didn’t hear your prayers. “Nothing?” she whispered, a knowing smirk appearing in her face.

You had to let out a scream, muffling it with a pillow as you did not want anyone else trying to snoop in this mess of a situation. “Nothing,” you tried to argue once again, but her beaming smile and amused expression broke you all over, forcing your eyes to roll out in annoyance. “I basically threw myself on him.”

“Oh my god!” that bitch dared to be amused.

“I couldn’t keep my hand off of him, and we… w-we…” you trailed off, not wanting to finish your sentence, but your friend finished it for you. You fucked.

“Were you drunk?” she asked, a tinge of concern returning to her tone.

“I wish,”

“Was it that bad?” she wondered. “You’re acting like this is the end of the world, but you just had sex with the hot guy you were pining all over. What’s the big deal?”

“I was not pining over him!” you screamed again, and exasperatedly continued. “And what’s the big deal? He’s a biker gym rat who’s probably got no jobs or hobbies outside going to the gym. He’s covered in tattoos and probably uses tons of drugs, and guys like that could never be proper partners and will always lead you to trouble.”

“Gosh, you were planning your wedding then?” she blankly responded.

“What the fuck? No!” you were getting progressively irritated. It sounded that, to her, this all didn’t pass as more than a simple joke, not seeing the serious issue within it. “He’s just not the kind of guy I’d like to see myself mixed with. My parents warned me a-about guys like this…”

“Oh! So, this is about your parents then?” Nessie concluded, missing the point once more.

“It’s not about them!” you shook your head. You tried to come up with something, to continue your statement, but your mouth opened and closed without anything coming out of it. Sighing deeply, you felt your energy levels start to drain. “This always happens.”

Thinking back at countless similar situations, you watched your friend’s eyes turn softer. An awaiting glint in her eyes for the story to continue. “Every time I get upset over them, when they make me mad, I just… Explode? I go out and do something stupid, something that I know would piss them off, because…”

“You want them to explode?” she cut you, more an assumption than a question. “You want them to be just as mad at you?”

Combing your fingers through your hair, you stop and wonder. You let her words sink in, a lightness over being finally understood and finally understanding yourself overcoming you. It often scares you how well she knew and understood you with just a couple years of knowing each other, but maybe that was just the three semesters of Psychology lessons speaking.

“I always end up doing something stupid that I shouldn’t have done,” your voice softened a reply.

“So, you’re saying your parents were right, then?” she inquired once more.

“That’s not it, Nessie, I-I…” you stammered. “Oh my god, please let’s move on from this subject.”

By this point, you’d already messed up your hair from how much you had nervously combed your fingers through it. There was a small lump forming on your throat, and your hands were clasped on your face, shielding your eyes from your surroundings.

“So…” Nessie started. “Was he good?” Your head snapped quickly in her direction, eyes wanting to scold her but smile failing to do the same. Failing to hold corners of your lips, you allowed the smile to spread and rolled your eyes at her apparent enjoyment. “Was he big?”

You let out a snort at the inappropriate question, but filled her in. Mouthing a ‘thick’ back at her, she let her mouth hang open, closing her eyes in deep dirty wonder. ‘How much?’ she mouthed in return, and you scanned the room for something that could resemble his majestic girth, deciding upon signaling by holding your ankles with both your hands. Perhaps an exaggeration, but you’d let her sleep with that “lie” in mind.

Her mouth formed an ‘oh’, shocked at your response, and you could swear that just thinking about it was making you a little bit wet. You proudly nodded at her, perhaps too proud of it now. Proud of the incredible achievement of taking it all in.

“How big?” she bobbed one eyebrow up, challenging. You gave her a demonstration, placing your closed fists on top of each other. He wasn’t the biggest, but he compensated with girth. Gosh, stop thinking about him! “Lucky girl.”

“You wish,” you laughed.

“I definitely do now.”

It had been almost three weeks since you’d last seen him. Rearranging your entire schedule, you organized your new routine with the sole purpose of avoiding him at all costs. From the months you’d met him almost daily at the gym, you’d come to know what times he liked to train at: very early mornings, the start of the evening or just as the gym was about to close. Thus, making the process of building up a new schedule a lot easier.

Sure, it might’ve been a stretch to go this far to avoid him. And maybe your new routine was kind of terrible and actually sort of hindered your days. But those were measures you needed to take in order to keep yourself sane. You didn’t know what you’d do if you saw him again.

In fact, your days seemed to have gotten longer, as you spent more hours in traffic. However, the lack of Jason in your daily life seemed to have increased your happiness and tranquility. You didn’t have to worry about him being around you, ready to drop something on you at any moment. And living without his often sarcastic and teasing remarks was so less stressful. It felt like, for once, you could live your life without a shadow haunting your days.

Life at work was also simpler. Since your boss had decided that the American dating scene wasn’t for her, and instead started looking for a husband at different European social gatherings, she had been out quite often, spending her weekends away in Monaco, Paris or Milan, and missing many work days.

That left you with more time to write. It has always been your favorite thing to do, writing away your thoughts on a paper, even if it never made it out of your notebook.

Ideally, you wouldn’t be working as an assistant. But that was the best you could do after graduation, having to find a job quickly before your father dragged you out of Gotham definitely. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it allowed you to keep in touch with the area you desired to work on. Even better, you got to watch the life of an editor in chief right in front of your eyes.

It was the middle of the week, the day passing by slowly as you walked left to right through different rooms and floors to get whatever your boss needed done before today’s shoot. With summer approaching its end, ideas for the upcoming fall issues were thrown around, and now Sandra, your boss, was dead set that she needed at least something done by the end of the week.

Packing up your things and throwing them into your messenger bag, you hurriedly walked out from behind your desk right as Sandra was passing by. Following her footsteps, you two made your way out of the tall and imposing building of Wayne Publications.

“Did you get the samples I asked for yesterday?” she questioned, head glued forward, not moving to look at you.

“Yes, I do in fact,” you replied, handing her the thin deep blue sketchbook. “I made a collage for each designer with the pictures, just as you’d asked. Gio Waters had given me some when I interviewed her, and Nadia and her sister emailed me their looks this morning.”

You explained the process as you two continued to walk, people moving away from the infamous Runway Magazine’s editor in chief. “The collection isn’t finished, but it’s really interesting, I think you’ll like it. Everything is in there. A-and… Arkham’s Neglect…”

“Arkham’s Neglect?” she wondered out loud, facing moving slightly to show you the corners of a raised eyebrow.

“They’re this 80’s punk, anarchist, counter culture, all of… that, inspired new brand. They think the name sets forward the message they want to spread,” you explained the unusual group you sure found interesting while interviewing.

“And that message is…?” she prolonged her question.

“Only God knows,” you exhaled. Stopping in front of the building, where a lavish black car was parked awaiting her entrance, she finally turned back to face you.

“Yn,” she called you softly. “If you want me to take your idea seriously, you have to make more effort than this.” The clicking sound of her heels ceased as she entered the car, the door left open for you to close and circle around the vehicle to enter from the other side.

Working for Sandra was like working for Miranda Priestly, only it was actually nice. It’d started working for her even before you graduated college, and although very… honest with her words, she was always kind enough to at least listen to your ideas once in a while.

So hearing that feedback from her was kind of heart shattering. She had finally given you an opportunity to write something, not just carry her things around and take her meeting notes. Write. And you had been working harder than ever in it, using all of your free time on preparing, planning and writing it.

The car ride was quiet for a while, as you tried to free your mind from the self doubt she’d cast upon you. Sandra typed rapidly on her phone, and by the smile on her face you knew she must have been texting her new Italian boyfriend. So, you waited till she was done typing, eyes leaving the screen to resume your talking.

“Ibra messaged earlier saying everyone was ready and waiting at the studio. Stephanie, the photographer Mr. Wayne recommended, was already set. He said they are ready to start as soon as we get there,” you finished with a gulp, and knowing you well, Sandra turned to look at you.

“And what?” she questioned, voice monotone.

“One of the male models bailed out last minute, ” you informed, her fingers snapping to pinch the bridge of her nose. “He said they were trying to find him.”

“Or a replacement,” she cut you off.

“A replacement, of course.”

Sandra simply nodded in response, and resumed her incessant typing. You prayed she wasn’t sexting with the guy again, and to avoid another embarrassment, focused your eyes on the damp streets of Gotham. Grabbing your phone, you messaged one of the other assistants at the studio to let them know you’d need to find someone else to fill the empty spot.

As you made your way to the glass doors of the studio, you watched the people inside frantically move around, readying themselves for the grand arrival of Sandra Bevilaqua. Upon setting her Louboutin clad feet in the room, they all stopped. The Sandra effect.

“Ibra!” she called out for her favorite art director, and a tall and slender man came out from behind a white set of curtains and walked to her, giving her a quick embrace before turning to you with a brief acknowledgement.

Then, Ibra and Sandra stepped away from you, deep in discussion about the photoshoot at hand, and you took that as your cue to stay back and have a small break after the incessant running being Sandra’s assistant took. You needed coffee anyway.

You scanned the room looking for the small table that usually contained tons of cups filled with nectar of the gods to the brim. Warm and delicious. Finding the table just in a corner, close to the industrial style floor to ceiling windows. By the table stood a girl not much younger than you, camera in hand, and stealing a few snacks that were also placed on it.

“They got this Brazilian thing, they call it coxinha, I think. You should try that one, they’re really good” you suggested, taking a large cup that had ‘macchiato’ written on it as she turned to see you, a beaming smile on her face.

“I already got some of them,” she laughed, pointing to the napkin tucked inside her jacked pocket filled with those little snacks, and you had to let out a giggle too.

While she continued her nibbling and picking at the snacks on offer, you distracted yourself with the not unusual studio, a place you’d come to know now fairly well since starting to work at Runway. A few models recognized you too, waving hello and moving on with their preparations.

Being part of this world was quite insane, to be honest. You grew up having to hide your magazines under your bed because according to your religious parents it taught young girls to be “depraved” and “promiscuous” and not “wife material”. When you got the opportunity to work for them, you had to lie, and you still did, telling your parents you worked for Gotham Times instead.

You were too lost in thinking, watching the traffic move down the street, that you forgot you still had some work to do.

“Yn,” one of the other assistants ran to you. “Have you found the replacement?”

“I told you to find it!” you whisper-screamed, not wanting people to know you still had problems in your hand.

“I thought you would do it. You said…”

“Find a new model,” you repeated your text harshly at her.

“I-I thought y-you just sent it to me to remember to do it later,” she told you. Fucking stupid girl, you wanted to scream out, because you had something around ten minutes to start the shoot and one model still missing. But you were once in her spot, and you knew how upset she’d get after.

So you took your coffee and planned to walk out of the room in search of a model, even if you had to beg people on the street to do it. However, you didn’t count on someone blocking your way out, nearly causing you to drop your coffee if he wasn’t fast enough to hold the cup for you.

“Careful there,” he smiled, but your face turned to a frown as soon as you recognized the dark hair and the sky blue eyes. “Hello, love. Didn’t let it spill on you this time,” Jason winked, trying to initiate a conversation, a smugness set on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you removed your cup out of his grip, and bumping on his shoulder, walked away. Beelining to the corridor, you pulled your phone out and proceeded to search for the several phone numbers you’d be calling for the next few minutes. As you tried to think of what to say, rehearsing the words in your head, the blue eyed man would flock in instead, slowing your work down tremendously. But you had bigger problems to solve.

As you had anticipated, for the past ten minutes you had your phone glued to your ear, having called dozens of different modeling agencies begging them to send you someone, something, to save you. However, the best they could give you was “We can try, but it’s too last minute”. Well, fuck them. Now, you were about to run into the streets and start begging people to model for a fashion magazine.

“Yn!” you heard the soft yet powerful voice of your boss calling. Running back inside, you spotted her chatting with Ibra in the middle of the room. “Have you found a replacement?” she asked as soon as you arrived beside her.

“Errm… The agencies said it’s too last minute to find someone,” you offered, already awaiting reprimand.

“How come… How are we supposed to start the shoot then? Ibra!” she called Ibrahim again, words starting to just jump out of her mouth, something she rarely did, but that only happened when she was truly exasperated.

“We can start shooting the other models until Yn…” here it comes. “... finds someone else to fill the spot, yah?” he looked at you, eyes begging you to comply, and you did so, nodding incessantly as Sandra smiled away, happy with the option presented by the art director.

With a deep breath, you took another look around, tried to find something to distract yourself for just a moment. Mind working at a high voltage, you felt like you needed to decelerate, to take one, two, three breaths till your mind could start working again. The stressful situation making you instantly uneasy.

Your distraction came in the form of the raven haired demon, chatting happily with the blonde photographer you’d spoken to earlier. It then came to you dozens of questions about that situation. Why was Jason here in the first place? You’d only ever found him at the gym and at parties, and you honestly didn’t know what the hell he did for work, but he certainly didn’t work at anything related to this. This was your job, you knew everybody. He was never around before, unless…

Unless he knew the photographer.

She was beautiful. Long blond hair, eyes as blue as his, and an enchanting smile even you couldn’t deny. Were they together? She did seem a lot younger, but it’d be just like the type of guy he is to go after fresh, young babes. Urg. You hated him. Were you one of his young babes? Were just a dumb little fuck?

Urg. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Instead, you opted for burning holes in his head with your eyes, glued to the scene ahead of you. He was laughing, laughing, with her, like you were all a joke. If everything was… Stop, Yn. You won’t get mad at him. You won’t. But the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

“Yn?” Sandra snapped her fingers before your eyes, breaking you from your trance. “What are you doing? Have you figured it out already?”

“Hmmm… I’m still thinking,” you gave a half-assed reply. Your eyes lingered from her to the boy stuck in your head. And she must have been following your gaze, because her own head snapped to the two inappropriate flirts chit chatting on the corner. A bright smile forming on her red lips.

“Perfect,” she stated softly and took one step in their direction.

“Wait, no!” you screamed, pulling at her arm. “Jason isn’t a good idea.”

“You know him?” before you had the chance to fix your mess, she continued. “Have you seen him naked?”

You almost choked at her question, and could bet a million dollars your face must’ve turned red. “W-why would you think that? I don’t know him.” you lied, and she clearly saw through you, offering you a look adorned by her frowned eyebrows.

“You just told me his name, Yn. We’ll be needing him to pose shirtless for the shoot. We are, after all, doing a “Sculpted Bodies” issue. And he looks to be pretty muscular.” Taking her glasses from where they stood hooked to her neckline, she placed it on her nose to take a better look at the man in question, returning her walk in his direction. “Don’t tug at my arm again, you’re not my child and call Ibra to find this man a new outfit. Hey, you?”

She screamed, and like a magnet, all eyes were on the scene.

“Jason, isn’t it? Yn here told. We are in need of a new male model, would you go back there and change?” she let him no, offering him no other option.

“Jason can’t,” you tried to argue, and his eyes snapped to your frame.

“Why not?” he asked, smugness still prevailing on the way he talked to you. “I’d love to.”

“That would be an awesome idea,” the blonde photographer chimed in.

“Of course you think so,” you gave her a forced smile, holding yourself together to not roll your eyes in front of your boss. “He has work.”

“I do not,” he scoffed, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Perfect!” Sandra clapped. “Ibra honey, find this beautiful piece of man a new outfit.”

Turning around, Sandra walked away, the blonde photographer you didn’t even care to remember the name following suit, swaying her hips as she strolled on the wooden floor. Moving your face, you found Jason’s eyes still lingering on your, a dark smirk plastered on his face.

“Please, don’t,” you asked, almost begging if you weren’t too proud.

“Why?” his question was filled with amusement. “Your boss said it herself. I’m perfect.

“You’re ruining my day,” you hissed through gritted teeth. In an attempt to look intimidating, your closed wrists rested on your waist, but there was no way you could ever frighten Jason.

“Why? Can’t stand the sight of me for too long, love?” he now whispered dangerously close to your face. Hoarse voice making you shiver. “Didn’t think I’d noticed you avoiding me at the gym?”

“Someone here is paying a lot of attention to me, it seems,” you hit him back. You prayed no one around noticed your interaction, because they would see clearly that there was something going on between you two.

“I wasn’t the one staring, was I?” he deadpanned. If any of you moved an inch, your noses would be touching, and probably much else would follow. Gathering all your strength, you pulled back.

“Fuck you,” you whispered before moving away.

“Already did,” he bit back a smile, walking past you towards Ibrahim to go and get changed. His own hip swaying left to right as he walked, the movement hypnotizing you as he went.

Soon enough, all models were positioned on stage, barely sporting any clothes bar some thin skin toned underwear, transparent fabrics or one single piece of garment. Jason, in all his glory and toned chest, wore a pair of white boxer underwear that left evident the not so little friend he owned down there.

One makeup artist had bathed his chest with some kind of oil, sliding her dark blue nails over his entire torso. In clear fuck boy behaviour, a shadow of a smile loomed his face when he looked at her through his lashes. You felt a muscle on your jaw jolting at the interaction, deciding that you’d had enough, and would be much better off attending to something else.

You tried the coffee table, but not even a sweet macchiato could clear your mind of the man you fucked and wished would desintegrate. Through the corner of your eye, you dared to steal one more look at him, only to find his eyes already set on you. Even from afar, you noticed them darkening, changing their essence to something that left you uneasy. In desperate need of air.

Truth be told, this man rented a four story penthouse with three hundred bedrooms in your mind since the night you’d slept over at his. Occupying a space that once was free to help you function properly, but now, you were a horny mess 90% of the day. Yes, you touched yourself to his picture lingering in your memory countless times since that day. And each one of them made you feel better than the other.

However, none of them had you feeling as good as he had made you feel that night. None of them had his touches to drive you wild, or gave you the feel of his tongue on your nipples. None of them whispered dirty things in your ear. But more specifically, none of them made you come as much as he did in just one night.

Shaking those thoughts away, you averted your eyes from his and sat down on a puffer chair, watching the photoshoot with an empty head. The group shot was done, as Stephanie, as you remembered, dismissed the other models to start on the individual shots. And to no surprise of yours, she had Jason shoot first.

He posed and flexed his muscles to her loud cheers and claps, letting out laughs and hypnotizing smiles you found yourself hooked to. Their partnership was evident, as Jason understood her words and requests promptly, and you had to admit she seemed to know just which angles and positions he’d look hotter.

Sandra and Ibra watched the little show just attentively as you did, but you were sure the thoughts in your head never crossed theirs. Giving short jumps, and faking boxing punches, he turned the playful shoot into something more intense. His eyes, eyebrows and his whole demeanor change drastically, to now exuberate this dense, dark, sensual, almost pornographic, aura.

He lowered the hem of his underwear a bit, showing you the trail that had driven you crazy the last time you peered at it. Now, it was on full display to you, and you had to bite down at your lip to hold in the moan you wanted to let out. He turned around, showing you his back, with his side profile setting up what you already thought would be the perfect picture. You wondered if any of your marks could be seen on his back, if Stephanie could see them from up close.

Your breathing hitched, and you had to cross your legs and feel just a bit of friction there to pull yourself back together.

The music in the studio shifted. The dark, sexy tunes of The Weeknd turned into the more upbeat pop rock sound of SZA’s F2F, a surprise to you, given the feel and themes of the photoshoot, but something that totally spoke to you in this moment of your life.

You couldn’t take him out of your mind, you thought of him until you fell asleep. You wondered if he planned on making Stephanie the girl for tonight. Or worse, if he’d already done it, done her. It had been a while since that night, he wouldn’t take that long to find someone else to fuck like he did to you. Fuck like he fucked you.

The thought made you feel nauseous.

Just as the next line began, the sudden realization of your feelings hit you like a train. The need to be slammed against a wall, picked up and fucked like you would never need your legs again, justified by the light blue shade indicating your ovulating period on your tracker app. That explained everything, you thought, finding the only possible way you could ever be this crazy about a man.

When Miss SZA said ‘Now I’m ovulating and I need rough -’, that was it. No truer words were ever spoken. Just his presence was enough to make your thoughts incoherent, but having him doing all those poses and stares was driving you insane. Oh, how it sucked to be a woman in heat!

You didn’t realize you bit your lips until the silvery taste of blood hit your tongue, and you averted your eyes from him to instead stare at your own nails. Afraid that if your eyes lingered on him for much longer, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.

When Stephanie’s voice trapped your attention to something the distance didn’t let you decipher, you felt a tightness in your chest. A weird feeling of fear, anxiety and desire mix together, as Jason refocused his sight on you, walking slowly in your direction. His man tits bounced as he walked, perfectly muscled, and perfectly fit for the photoshoot.

Where were you with your head, you thought. There was no way Sandra would have ever listened to your nonsensical words, he was clearly perfect for that. His body was perfectly sculpted, as if he was handmade by Michelangelo himself, and perfectly decorated by his countless tattoos.

You assessed him. Up and down. Every inch, every single detail. Eyes lingering longer than you should, as he walked to you slowly. His eyes darker than you remembered, the bright blue turning deep. His body moved light, lighter than a feather it seemed, as if he glided instead of walk. Everything in him screamed godlike, and you licked your lips as your mouth seemed to dry. Still focused on you, he licked his own lip, making you feel…

Yn. What are you doing?

Breaking away from your thoughts, your eyes widened from the realization of what your mind was doing to you, rushing away from your. Out of the room, out of the building, out of here. You felt your heart race, speeding faster than a Formula 1 car. The air trapped in your lungs, making it harder to breath.

“Ouch,” you heard someone complain from behind you, as you closed the door without looking and sprinted towards one of the corridors. “Yn!” you heard his voice call, but you could not stop. Fuck, why is he here?

Taking a corner, you found a door leading to some outside area when Jason’s grip stopped you from taking any step further.

“What the fuck did I do to you?” he questioned bitterly. You had to roll your eyes at that. What haven’t you done?

You tried to remove yourself from his grip, but he was insistent. “What the fuck did you do to me?” you laughed sarcastically, finding amusement at his clueless question. “God you’re fucking infuriating.”

Turning around, you forced his hold off, but you were playing yourself if you ever thought you could fight him. You basically dragged him along, but in reality he didn’t move an inch. He was heavier and stronger than any weights you pulled at the gym.

“Oh, you leave my apartment like a mad woman. Did everything so you wouldn’t have to face me for weeks and tried to sabotage a job opportunity, and I am the one who’s infuriating?” he spat out. His face getting red from anger.

“Haha, you were not even supposed to be here!” you spat in return.

“Oh, so am I not supposed to support my little sister?” he inquired. You went quiet.

His sister. His fucking sister. How stupid were you. “You’re ruining my job,” you tried to find an argument. Something to fight him back.

“I saved your job right there!” His eyes grew large, burning into yours. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t particularly right.

“Let me go! You’re hurting me,” you nearly cried out, wanting to flee this situation desperately. He let you go, and in his eyes, for the brief moment you dared to look in them, you found a shadow of guilt.

With heavy footsteps, you made a beeline to the door, feeling the lump on your throat tightening.

“You can’t take that night off your head too, can you?” he voiced, and you had to stop. He was thinking of it too, all this time. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down. Swans, rainbows, blue ice cream, new skin care products. Anything good thoughts to take him, this, out of your brain.

“You’ve been thinking of it all day. All night,” he continued, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You felt him behind you, a looming shadow above your small frame. “My lips on your neck. Your nipples,” he said, fingertips gracing your exposed arms. “My fingers inside you.”

Your eyes were closed. Picturing every scene, every word that left his mouth. He was right, you couldn’t shake him off your mind, but so couldn’t he. He was just as much stuck on it as you. You was just as much in his mind and he was in yours. Just as pathetic.

You felt his breath touch the skin on your neck, and his fingers pulling your hair out of your shoulders. “Me ripping you apart,” he whispered, voice carrying so much lust you had a hard time holding up.

You didn’t.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you noticed his heavy breathing. His oily chest rising and falling, almost touching your back. So close you felt the bulge in his underwear sliding against your bum. Beside you, you found a door.

Then, you made a promise. If the door was locked, you would leave him there, you would not look back. You’d forget everything and anything about Jason. However, if it was open…

It was. Opening into a small and empty room, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. And then, looking at him from over your shoulder, you begged for confirmation. You begged him to say he felt it too. That he needed it too.

Bobbing his head to the side, he motioned towards the opened room, telling you to get in. You did.

As soon as Jason closed the door behind him, you pushed him against the wall, frantically searching for his lips and finding it in a desperate, needy kiss. You needed him, you were starving for him. You needed his lips, you needed the air in his lungs. His breath, his warmth, his hands all over your body. You needed every single piece of him he had to offer, because he’d been in your head all week long, making you mad, deconcentrated, a mess. And he needed to pay for all that.

Spinning you two around, Jason had you pinned against the wall. Your legs didn’t waste time before wrapping around his waist, and it took him no effort to find a place for his hands on your ass, holding you up and close. You kissed ferociously, hungrily. Your tongues battled each other, struggling for power. Your fingers at the nape of his neck tugged at the hairs and he moaned inside your lips. Just like the last time.

But unlike last time, you did not have time to waste.

Pulling his dick out of his underwear, you let your legs go from his waist to take off your jeans. “Someone is eager,” he joked.

“Shut up!” you snapped, bringing him back for another deep kiss. He stroked his penis and you could feel his hands moving close to your belly. Your naked ass hit the cold stone wall, and your body jolted a little. Pulling at your waist, Jason had you bent over a desk in no time.

He tickled your folds with his head, but your hands on his wrist told him you were not playing today. He slammed inside of you with no second thoughts, and you almost let out a scream if it wasn’t for his mouth slapping on your lips. You felt your insides burn, his girth ripping you open as he slammed his dick in and out of you with speed. His calloused hand smacked against the soft skin of your ass, letting out a loud sound around the room. You nearly cried, body shaking as the skin burned where he had hit.

The smell of sex filled the room, as the sound of him hammering against your juices echoed on the walls. Jason started grunting behind you, his throat releasing feral sounds that had you hitting your high in less than a minute. Not much later, you felt the warmth of Jason’s seed filling you up, and your mind freaked out for a brief moment before it was clouded again once he forcefully turned you around and tackled you in another kiss.

Sitting on the desk, you brought him closer by his penis, pulling it in yourself and starting to grind against his crotch. Jason let a laugh vibrate through your body, mouths still tangled together, holding tightly at your thighs and thrusting hard inside of you. He slid a hand inside your shirt, taking one of your breasts out of your bra and pressing it so hard a tear formed in your eye.

Whatever the hell you two were doing now felt incredible. Your mind was starting to go numb again, and the tightness you’d feel minutes earlier had already returned. You let out a few cries in Jason’s mouth, as his teeth picked at your bottom lip, making sure you’d leave here with them red and swollen.

He didn’t care if anyone notice you’d just fuck. He wanted to parade it around. The thought of everyone knowing he had you all fuck over in an empty room making his release shoot within you once again. However, he didn’t stop until he felt you wall clenching around him, milking all he had left as your own milk slid through your legs.

As you tried to steady your breath, Jason left pecks on your lips, cheeks, and eyes. God damn it, he loved your fucked out face, he loved you post sex glow. He loved…

You search for his lips. They were warm, and without them you felt cold. You felt him moving out of you, and the emptiness afterwards. He resumed his little pecks on your lips after he’d put his penis back inside his underwear, handing you yours to put back on. You took them, but instead of putting them on, let it hand over his shoulders and you pulled him into a deeper kiss.

This one, though, was passionate. Slow, careful. It made your stomach spin, and the butterflies get busy in your core. It was good, and you wanted to be in it forever. You wanted to…

No! A voice screamed in your head, and you pushed him away immediately. You do not have feelings for Jason. You do not.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason asked, a hand on his lower lips taking you to the bite you’d just given it.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you screamed exasperated, putting your pants back on. “You are what’s wrong with me, Jason. You!”

“Me?! You’re the one who threw yourself on me,” he threw his hands up in defeat.

“After you kept putting things in my head…”

“Me? I keep… What the fuck do you have in that fucking head?” he cut you before losing his temper. You were truly something incredible.

“A brain. Something you lack, perhaps,” you replied harshly. “You keep making me do these stupid things.”

“I didn’t make you do anything, you know it well,” he stated, hands hanging on his hips, looking at you as if you'd just gone mad. Perhaps you really had. “Stop acting like an innocent little angel, because you’re nothing of it. Nothing!”

You let your mouth hang open, flabbergasted that he dared to say something like that. You know you were no angel, but he was completely missing the point. “That’s not it!”

“And what is it then?” he inquired, anger painting his face red once more.

“You’re just a fuck boy,” you screamed and he stopped in his tracks. “If you think I’d waste my fucking time in a lowlife like you, you’re just fucking wrong!” you spat out. The words had left your mouth before you could properly think of them, emotions taking over your thinking process. But they were out, and they hurt Jason more than he’d like to admit. It felt like something broke inside his chest, the shattered glass of what once was his heart.

“You’re the one who acts like a stupid spoiled bitch,” he returned, soon regretting it. Your eyes filled with water, and some tears fled without your consent. Those were the words that hurt you the most to hear. Not because they were new, but because you’d been told that countless times, to the point you actually believed it.

Opening the door with rage, you ran out of the room and stomped your way outside of the building. A single tear sliding down your face, the effort you put to keep the others in taking inimaginable strength.

When you got to the reception, the other assistant from earlier noticed you coming her way. “Yn,” she called worriedly.

“Tell Sandra I’m heading out. I’m feeling sick.”

The cold wind welcomed you outside, forgetting everything you’d left in the studio to head home. You wanted to fall to the ground, curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out. Never have you felt this upset and frustrated. And it wasn’t even Jason’s fault. So you arrived home, threw yourself on the sofa, and allowed the tears to fall.

A single tear fell from your eye as you stared blankly at your bathroom door. You were curled up on the floor, hugging your knees against your chest, waiting for those damned three minutes to be over.

You were late. Weeks late. And anxious thoughts were starting to take over. You would be fucked. Your parents would kill you. It would ruin everything. You were too young, and you were just starting your career. It just can’t be happening. There was no way you could do it on your own. That was not part of the plan.

The lump in your throat only got tighter. Counting the seconds desperately, you missed the count dozens of times, but you were sure the wait was now over.

Forcing yourself to stand up, you take slow steps to your sink. Getting the white and blue stick in your trembling hands, you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Too afraid of the reality it could bring you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Red eyes, puffy cheeks. You don’t even remember brushing your hair today. Taking a deep, prolonged breath, you take a look down. The eight letters showing on screen scaring you shitless.

Pregnant.

Oh, fuck!

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @jasontoddslover ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo

#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

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kaybreezy3000 · 4 months

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Five Hargreeves Dirty Headcanons ABC's

(Rated M for sexually explicit content, 5438 words, the last one for Z is sort of a mini story for you to enjoy. This list explores Five and his relationship with 'you' while taking a small dive into his very complicated psyche and looking at some of the reasons why he is the way he is. This is written with 'you' as anyone-not male or female specific.)

Note~ me doing this idea was actually born from me not sleeping last night, and a request my dearest friend Bad Kitty got to do a list this way. She just did a headcanon for Five, so she respectfully declined. Check her stuff out with the link above and I swear you won't be disappointed.

All right.... I hope I did this in a way that's satisfying for all you lovely Five fans out there. 🤞

A- A student, Aftercare

Number Five doesn't do anything half ass, and that includes you. He’s a hyper focused genius who is going to study you like you’re just another thing he needs to conquer. Every sign your body gives him that he’s doing something right will be cataloged and used to his and your benefit. Five is all about attention to detail and from the moment the tip of his thick cock slips inside you, to the moment he’s done filling you, your pleasure is his. He will always make sure you come, usually more than once and always screaming his name.

With aftercare, he’ll be sure to touch you with the most cautious and gentle of touches as he wipes up the mess he made of you, his soft green eyes dementedly delighting in the glisten of his seed leaking out of you onto the sheets.

B- Biting, Bondage

Five may seem refined, but he loves to let the feral part of him go wild when he’s with you, not just when he’s swinging an ax through someone’s face. Biting his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you cry out, or softly nibbling on the shell of your ear never gets old. Your agitated sounds of complaint when he does these things arouse dark parts in him that only make him want to drag his teeth along your skin and confuse you even more. Biting your quivering lower lip as his hips violently thrust into you and your nails dig into his back is just one of the ways he makes sure you never forget that you are his.

As a trained killer who loves to exert his power over others, Five is not opposed to using the silk length of his tie to bind your wrists, fastening them above your head, then to the headboard so you can’t touch him. Now you can’t get away-not that you want to.

The look of you that way and the feel of your body under him reminds Five of being with Dolores. She couldn’t touch him back no matter how much he wished she could, and now neither can you.

C- Control

Thanks to Five’s upbringing where he didn't get to learn what it meant to have the love of a real parent, he suffers from issues of self-worth and trust. He wanted approval, but all he ever got was ridicule and abuse. Due to this, he naturally developed coping mechanisms, such as the need to be the best at everything and becoming extremely self-reliant.

Five is the king of survival, and he knows how to take care of himself. As such, he struggles with the need to control everything. This includes many things in your relationship, especially with all things sex.

D- Dominance, Dolores

Five is dominant, there’s no question about it. Living a lifetime with Dolores as his only companion only instilled that quality in him even more. This plays heavily in his joy of you calling him Daddy, and that has little to do with his real mental age of being way older than he looks, and much more to do with him wanting to take care of you because that’s what he knows and is good at.

Just like with his beloved mannequin, Five loves manhandling you into positions that make it even better when he fucks his long hard cock into you. With a sheen of sweat causing his chocolate fringe of hair to stick to his forehead, Five could pin you down and thwack his hips into your ass while it's flipped up in the air all day long, all the while maintaining a devilish side smirk and insisting that you are doing such a good job for Daddy.

He's such a wonderfully fucked up jerk, but you love your daddy for all his kinks and oddball quirks. Even his little ticks make you want him even more.

E- Escapism

Sex is about love for Five. He’s just that kind of man.

He could fuck anyone, but he didn’t, not until he found you. He couldn’t open that part of himself without the intimacy that a real love based relationship gives him. That’s not to say that sex isn’t his favorite form of escapism because it is.

Five is hardly a simple man, but to him, the ecstasy of having an orgasm and the momentary blind eroticism of feeling your body release in that way are just part of what it means for him to be human. He is filled with a mysterious power that may or may not be originally from the alien race his adoptive father belonged to, but he’s still a man and he loves to fuck.

F- Fingers

This guy’s long sexy fingers are really something, whether you look at him using his dexterity when steadily pulling the trigger that ends someone’s life in the blink of an eye, or if it’s when he’s running them between your legs, languishing in the feel of your engorged flesh wetly dripping for him. Don’t be surprised if Five sucks your lust off his dangerous digits, or if he forces them in your mouth after he’s had them inside you. Both options are great in his mind, and he’ll never get enough of tasting you or good naturedly debasing you.

G- Grasping, Growling, Groping, Gripping

While hoisting your ass off the bed so he can pump his cock into you with an unforgiving rhythm that makes your insides clench around him and your mouth drop open wide while you gasp out stuttering profanities, Five is for sure going to latch onto your hips, your waist, your hair, your neck, your thighs, or basically anything he can get his hands on.

What you have is his, and he’s not letting it go. When your bodies are connected, he couldn’t be happier. Growling out throaty sounds of euphoria as his tip slips back and forth just inside your slicked entrance, Five knows just how to manipulate your body, and he knows it’s driving you equally crazy.

H- Humping, Holes

With no shame and little other options, Five is no stranger to getting off by humping inanimate objects, but thankfully, now he has you. Still, you are often a target for his hip thrusting exertions where his hot length grinds against the side of your leg, or your ass crack. He really likes doing this when he wakes up with a boner that refuses to be ignored.

You don’t mind, he is young again after all.

It’s hot as hell watching Five lose himself in such an innocent way, but your heart also breaks a little when you think of all the loneliness he’s had to endure and why he’s still attached to doing this.

The good news is, he’s healing from all that. He has other options when it comes to being with you, and he’s not about to overlook several places on your body where he can insert his needy cock. Five isn’t picky, he will fuck any hole you let him pound.

I- Imagination

Let’s face it, Five has a very big imagination. Dolores anyone….

Without his ability to imagine her love for him, he wouldn’t be here. She was his voice of reason, and what he considers the personification of all the best parts of him. Without Five there would be no Dolores, and without her, there would be no Five.

Thanks to that enamel covered molding of plastic and resin, you have Five and his imagination is just as strong as it ever was. He never seems to run out of ways to ravish you. Like in public, when he blinks you into a fitting room where he then shoves you against a mirror and slips his fingers and then his cock inside you while he watches your hands palm the glass and your eyes droop.

It’s all Five and his imagination coming to life. He makes your head spin and your body spasm your shuttering release.

He gets stuck in his head sometimes, but it’s not all bad. Sometimes it's just in him fretting giving you small gifts to show how much you mean to him or it's in the simple but as meaningful things he loves to do, like him quietly reading your favorite book to you while you lay together in bed.

J- Jerking off

Five knows how to polish his palm. One might say he’s the master of masturbation.

Needs being such in his many times of despair, the act of self-love gave him something other than pain and suffering to think about. Eventually, for a young boy all alone in the apocalypse, his desire to lose himself in this way became an addition. Smart as he is, Five knew this was happening, but he still became reliant on it, and now he’s still partly that boy, and also that lonely man, sometimes a bit too involved with playing around with his hands down his pants.

He’s shameless about it, never shy about taking his hardened shaft out to show you how it’s done. Fingers tightly curled around the base, he’ll slide them up and down his erection, sure to prolong his climax as long as possible. Not until he’s had enough will he tease the super sensitive slit and the bulbing band of his cherry red tip with his forefinger, circling it round and round before he goes at it hard, fucking himself so brutally his hand is nothing but a blur.

Not one to leave you out, when Five throws his head back and growls, “Get your pretty mouth over here,” you listen. Then you are compensated with the sound of Five groaning out your name as hot spurts his nearly translucent semen flick onto your waiting tongue and then drip down your lips onto your chin.

K- Kissing

The simple pleasure of kissing someone real was something Five had not known until he found you. Not until your first kiss did he understand why people in the romance novels he’d read seemed to be so taken by it.

The first time he looked into your eyes, knowing you saw him for who he really was, all the good and the bad, and that you wanted him anyway, he nervously but determinedly advanced. Slowly at first, he came within a hair’s width from your lips as his uneasy breaths danced across your skin. He was scared, but the moment his mouth touched yours and then molded around your warmth, softly pressing into your acceptance, he never looked back.

Now, after he’s had time to learn how to do it. Five is all about kissing. Running his tongue across your teeth, or tangling it with yours, it doesn’t matter. He’s in heaven when his mouth is on yours.

L- Licking

Five may not look it, but he’s strong, and so is his tongue, and he’s not afraid to fuck you with it. Before you come, he’ll get you so worked up and dripping with anticipation that it’s insane. He’ll happily lap your liquid desire for him until you’re a puddle of goo, laying there with him between your legs, the backs of your knees dangling limply over his heaving shoulders. Catching his breath after your body has just repeatedly tensed and then uncoiled, giving itself over to his mouth, he’ll chuckle at your state of complete and utter destruction, his boyishly handsome dimple doing you in even more.

M- Manipulation

Five is very clever and knows how to get what he wants but he doesn't mentally try to manipulate you. He will however indulge in the fantasy of using you as his own personal fuck doll. This, as is many of his tastes is simply something that's a part of him ,as much as his witty yet dryly delivered comments. Sometimes he asks nicely for you to lay down and not move as much as possible, sometimes he prefers to take your options away manually, and that's when we get the extra special suppressive simulation of bondage added to his sexual exploits.

N- Nuzzling, Naughty talk

Five is many things, uninhibited in bed being only one of them, but he’s also the most loving and tender person you’ve ever known. He shows this in many ways, but one that never gets old is when he’s feeling exceptionally needy and he buries his face against your neck, murmuring sweet nothings about how much you mean to him while he brushes the tip of his nose along the underside of your jaw. He’ll press his face against your ear, cherishing the smell of your hair and the feeling of your skin against his. Five can’t get enough of loving you in these small but passionate ways.

Also, while doing this and at many other times as well, Five lets his silver tongue go verbally, never ceasing to shock you with the dirty things he comes up with. If he tells you to get over here and sit on his dick and ride until he says stop, that’s always fun, and so is watching his eyes comically roll back in his head as he cries out how fucking good you are a taking his cock.

O- Ownership

Five is possessive. He doesn’t covet things unless they have value, and he doesn’t have much to his name and never did. He is a simple man in this way. He was also the kid who did not let the other kids play with his toys, and with you now it’s no different.

He’s not the type to prevent you from doing anything you want, but he is extremely territorial. If something is important to Five, like you are, or even when we are talking about something as seemingly insignificant as one of his tailored suits, if someone dares fuck with the things he holds dear, they are in trouble.

Five doesn’t own you but you own his heart, and if anyone he’s not okay with gets too handsy and lays a finger on you or the fine wool fabric of his sexy suit, expect retaliation and not always something as simple as him angrily swatting their hand away followed by a few choice words of distaste.

P- Punishment, Promises

Being someone that considers their opinion to be more often than not the only one that matters, Five comes off very harsh at times, but with you it’s all a game.

Teasing him about his real age brings out a side in him that’s all about showing you who’s the boss. And one of his favorite ways of doing it is threatening you with holding back when your body is just about to start convulsing from the rhythmic roll of hips pushing his dick so far inside you that you're sure he’s hitting your belly button. Another way is when he throws a hand back and smacks you in the ass while you’re already struggling to keep hold of the sheets so he doesn’t fuck you straight through the mattress.

Five’s promises to take care of you are just as true as his promises that you will pay for your sassy little comments. Together, your back-and-forth, fight style flirtations always lead to him getting overly worked up, and you getting pinned somewhere like against a wall while he frantically fucks his own brains out by way of pounding the fuck out of you.

Q- Quivering, Quaking

Five is beautiful. His soft bedroom eyes with their long dark lashes fanning his flushed cheeks as he looks down at you underneath him take your breath away almost as effectively as his desperate kisses. But it’s after he’s finally let go and let himself fall over the edge, when you can feel the heat of his cock quaking its last grievances inside you, his body quivering as his legs let go and he collapses at your side, that you are both the most at peace.

R- Rough

Five loves to take you any way he can, but the guy loves it rough. His lean body and his sinewy muscles making a mouth watering ‘V’ as they point like an arrow downwards towards his perfectly tailored dress pants, spelling out all kinds of trouble, but in this case, it's the good kind of trouble.

His body is built for action and that’s what you’re going to get. Five loves to surprise you by blinking himself right on top of you, holding you down with his legs as he attacks. Be it all his training as a child, or as an assassin, Five Hargreeves likes to fuck hard and fast, with his hands holding you down under him with no mercy.

S- Submission

Five craves your submission. Just hearing you beg for it gets him hard, and he often demands you verbalize how much you want him to fuck you harder, or make you come. He'll get you to say it, or he’ll stop thrusting his cock inside you. While you’re losing your mind, he’ll merely look down at you with his cocky grin, just waiting for you to plead with him to give you his cock again.

When it goes the other way, at least when it’s in between the sheets, Five is rarely the one to give himself over that way, but with you, he will. But he only does so knowing that it’s in his benefit.

There’s been more than once he has shown you how much he trusts you, and wow is it a sight to watch Five Hargreeves wither and writhe as you torment all his sense, using blindfolds and gags, and even handcuffs to keep his greedy hands off until you say so.

Imagine his face twisted with agony, lips parted as helpless moans for more pour out of him.

T- Tits

Your body is a wonderland, plain and simple. Anything Five can stimulate himself with while also getting a rise out of you is fair game, and that includes tits.

Small ones, big ones, his or yours, whatever. Five adores the perky points of flesh that he can nipple and suck on. Making them hard nubs with the carefully cruel but also sometimes achingly gentle tugs and rolls between his fingers, is one of his favorite pastimes whether in the privacy of your bed, or in public if he can get away with it.

U- Unlimited energy

The nature of Five’s ability to teleport is something that he never really talks much about, but you know that within him is an infinite strength. Without it, he’d never be able to summon enough energy to propel himself through time and space; it's just simple math.

That said, this same quality of his very unique power allows him an unfair advantage in bed.

Five has unlimited levels of vigor while he’s bucking his hips back and forth and his cock slips in and out, over and over and over. Always a perfectionist, he prefers you get off before him, but even when he’s not so lucky, he can rally. Using his already spent dick, semi hard and still throbbing from the loads of cum he just dumped in or on you, Five will show you that his recovery period is just as extraordinary as he is, and the next thing you know, your sexy teleporter is showing you a whole new rhythm with his hips smacking into yours.

V- Vulnerability

Most of the time, the people in this world that seem the most aloof and coldly indifferent are actually the most desperate and in need of love.

Five is this person.

All his traits point to this. With his extreme levels of trauma, he will always be this way. He longs for the acceptance he never got from Reginald and his siblings. Deep down he’s terrified of showing weakness because if he does, that means he can be hurt. The reality is, he’s already been hurt more than almost anyone that’s ever walked the planet, but in his vulnerability and fear is so much love.

Never the one to give up, Five is trying to learn how to accept the parts of himself that he hates and see that he’s someone deserving of happiness. You are a huge part of that.

W- Whimpers, Whispers, Whines

Anything that comes out of you that sounds broken and desperate makes Five’s dick and mind go wild. The more you keen and struggle, the more he tries to get more of it. It’s pretty much a vicious cycle of torment that’s part narcissistic fulfillment, and also purely for the joy of making you feel amazing. Five feeds off your pleasure.

X- X marks the spot

Five has left his mark on you. Whether he knows he’s doing it or not, he’s taken claim of your body and soul. Let’s face it, he occupies way too many of your thoughts. But his accusation of all that is yours doesn’t stop there. He also loves to mark physically.

Five uses his teeth, tongue, sucking, and licking. He’s an expert, using anything he has at his disposal. He leaves trails of his claim over you for all to see. He’s like a puppy, unable to help himself as his mouth covers you with anxious expressions of love.

Y- You

When we think about Five Hargreeves, we outwardly see a person that one would think only thinks about himself, but it’s actually the complete opposite.

As we know from his troubling past, he’s made mistakes and he’s paid for them, and all along it’s been his love for his family that willed him to keep going. Now, that’s still there despite their continued differences, but his aim in life is more directed at you.

Five wants nothing more than to make you happy. He’ll never stop being scared of losing you no matter how confident he seems. It’s not his fault; he’s lost so much, over and over.

Right or wrong, he also makes you a priority in all things orgasmic bliss. If he’s going solo, you and your naked body welcoming him are all that’s on his mind. When you are together, he’s damn sure to see to it that you get off. He’s a teleporting, ex-temporal assassin that may or may not be the founder of a time controlling agency, but first and foremost, Five Hargreeves is a gentleman, and a gentleman always takes care of his business, and you are his number one business.

Z- Zippers (Heads up~ This one is special because with it, I’m giving you guys a little taste of more in the moment/story writing that I am more used to doing. This part being very similar to something a very naughty version of Five does to someone in the story I wrote called ‘The Devil Within’)

One of the most erotic sounds in Five’s opinion is the sound of his zipper being pulled down by your careful hand as you coyly gaze up at him with your adoring eyes.

Looking between his widely spread legs at the sight of you kneeling before him, ready to do as he asks, makes him feel more powerful than he’s ever felt, and that’s saying a lot because Five is very, very powerful and has done unimaginable things.

It starts with a steadiness in his soothing words and his hand brushing along your cheek, then moving back into your hair. His fingers thread along your spine as he pulls you closer.

You can already see the bulge of his desire even before you open his pants, but now, pulling the fabric aside, you see the outline of Five’s erection filling the thin cotton underwear still covering him.

You know what he’s going to do but he warns you anyway.

“You’re going to eat my cock and love it, honey.”

Licking your lips, you nod.

Coming down on him, you kiss the wet spot of darkened material covering his deliciously rounded tip. Just thinking of it inside you, opening you up almost painfully, has you wishing you could touch yourself, but you don’t dare because right now, this is about him.

Sliding a hand down, Five pushes his underwear down, freeing his stiff cock.

You let out a little whimper.

Feeling pretty damn proud, Five grabs a wad of your hair, then sharply pulls your head, pushing you down closer to his body.

“Don’t be a tease, sweetheart” he tauntingly sings with misleadingly boyish play in his voice.

You lick your lips again, then open your mouth around him, your tongue leisurely tracing up the raised veins roping the length of his engorged shaft.

After only one pass, you stop to gauge Five’s reaction.

The moment he locks eyes with you, you wrap your lips around him and Five is quick to push you down without warning, forcing you to gag around him as you struggle and gasp for air.

Smirking, Five lets you sit that way, allowing you to adjust as he lets out a low groan over that sinful act of ruthlessness. His fingers play with your hair, petting you even if it is a degrading form of encouragement. Doing as he pleases, Five refuses to adjust the pressure he is putting on the back of your throat.

With a small smile of approval over your quick submission, Five reaches down, requesting you give him your hands. You do, then he proceeds to place them palm down on his thighs. Taking your hair again, Five lets you move freely, bobbing your head up and down, mostly working his tip with your tongue.

Your eyes flutter and your fingernails gently dig into Five’s slouched slacks as he starts rocking your head back and forth over him, making his dick disappear inside your wet mouth. Holding you the way he is, with your head tilted back, your throat open and lined up perfectly, it gives Five the deepest penetration and a view that before being with you, he’s only ever seen in porn, and the sight and the feel of it is making his already heavy cock feel like it might truly choke you if he gets any more turned on.

“If it’s too much let me know,” he says, clearly indicating that you should push back if he is too rough or if he makes you take him too deep.

He isn’t expecting it, but you immediately push back, then start circling your tongue around his cockhead as you moan. This is all part of the fun, but since this was not what he wants, Five's mind whirls with punishments he could deliver, but his stomach also fills with wonderful butterflies the more he listens to you. As you tease the underside of his shaft, his breathing grows heavy, and he can’t help but grind against your marvelous tongue.

Reaching up, your hand drags down over Five’s tensed abdomen. You’re taking your time with him, and it is evident you’re enjoying it, and the feeling of each ridge between his muscles as he holds his body tight, trying not to sway.

Five has to admit, he is enjoying this too, but then you wrap your hand around him, covering the base of his shaft, only not moving it. His hands clench and his knuckles whiten as he lets out a rough sounding sigh of exasperation.

Letting his penetrating gaze settle on you, Five is just about to start thrusting down your throat again when your hand begins to move and your head shallowly bobs over his drizzling tip while you softly suck.

Five’s body shudders and you respond by moving your hand up his length, jerking him a few times before pressing your thumb gently but firmly against the underside of his shaft where your mouth is popping on and off.

Sudden waves of pleasure hit him, followed by shaky breaths as his fingers tighten their grip on you. Taking complete control of your movements again, Five forces your head down, pushing your lips sliding along all the way to his pubic bone, only pulling your head up again so he can fuck into your throat all over again.

It’s not like he didn’t warn you or give you an out. Still, there’s no denying he isn’t getting a sick sort of pleasure from your tears, wet gags, and each and every spasm of your throat, and there is no way he isn’t enjoying the sound of your desperate whines and moans.

You want this as much as he does and you are not tapping out, but your fingers are digging into his thighs as your eyes roll back so far in your head that Five is sure your brain must be turning off because he just skewered it.

Loving every second of dominating you by roughly fucking your face so hard he is making it impossible for you to think, Five pays you back for doing so good by not holding in his deep moans and low grunts of euphoria, but all too quickly he has to stop, or it will be over, and he doesn’t want that at all.

As his hips slow and pull away, your swollen lips gently popped off him.

Your brows furrow upwards as you watch Five with a needy expression. Feeling like he can get away with it, he taps your chin with the end of his cock, spreading the drips of drool that you can’t help but have after taking him that long and hard.

Five smiles down at you, a wickedly charming sort of look spreading across his face as he watches you wordlessly begging. He tightens his grip on the back of your head.

“God, you are fucking beautiful,” he breathes, then suddenly yanks your hair back, forcing you to crane your neck back. “I can’t wait to paint your face.”

After a few more taps to your waiting tongue, Five swiftly brings you down on him again, immediately causing you to gag. The sound of your body fighting him and the feel of your moans buzzing against him as you twitch and repeatedly try to swallow, all have him close to the edge again, but he can’t stop now even if he wanted to.

Soon, his rhythm becomes even more aggressive as he takes your head in both hands, slamming his cock into your mouth while griding the back of your throat against his tip before pulling off, only to repeat the process.

“You really wanted my dick, didn’t you?” Five breathlessly sputters as he throws his head back and his pale green eyes disappear under his heavy eyelids.

Inevitably his brutal pattern has become more erratic. Eventually, Five pulls back, fully pulling out. His hand that was tangled in the strands of your hair is moved to your puffy lips instead.

Jerking your chin up with his free hand, he urgently askes, “Do you think you can swallow all of it?”

You eagerly nod.

With an air of desperation coming out of him, Five strokes himself needily, bringing himself closer and closer as you watch in anticipation, your mouth open and tongue out.

With a few sharp inhales, Five’s body begins to tremor, and his legs begin to feel like they could give out on him. One of his heels squeaks on the floor as he drives himself forward, intent on delivering.

A long string of rough groans fall from Five's gaped lips as you flinch and reactively shut your eyes in response to the pearls of white falling over your waiting tongue.

Having plenty of pent-up sexual tension, not to mention a lifetime of being deprived of anything to this level of sexual eroticism, Five’s superpowered youthfully charged load repeatedly spurts out of him in heavy ropes, just like it always does.

You swallow and swallow, trying to keep up, but even though you are, Five deliberately pulls back, letting the last of his cum land across your flushed cheeks, some even dripping down, landing on your breathless body.

"Oh fuck," he gasps with his hand clasped around his shaft. His angry grip keeps moving but much more slowly as it passes over his length while he rides the last incredible waves of his release.

His crisp white dress shirt moves up and down, faster than normal as he looks down at the mess he’d made of you.

“Such a good job for daddy,” he dizzily breathes before coming down to kiss your lips, his come covering them not at all stopping him. As his hands cradle your head, he breaks away just long enough to say, "I fucking love you.”

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

There we have it people…..

🎶-Now I know my ABC’s…and you guys got to get inside’s Five’s pervy head with me. 🎶

Link to my other Tumblr story/art posts

Link to My Five Centric Master List

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bahablastplz · 16 days

Text

All in | Chapter 12.5 (Jisung & Minho)

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Jisung has always been overlooked. Minho has been invisible in his own ways. The two have become inexplicably linked; how did Jisung and Minho come to join SKZ?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Jisung

When I was in third grade, I could not pay attention for shit.

It annoyed the Hell out of my teachers—I would lean back in my chair, I would distract my classmates by talking to them, and I would even intentionally mess up my assignments as a way to cull the boredom. In reality, I was lost in my own head. My own thoughts were my downfall, even though I was just a child. Full of thoughts, worrying about what my classmates thought of me, whether or not my parents would yell at me, and even coming up with long, convoluted scenarios about all the worst ‘what-ifs.”

When I was in the third grade, I started missing assignments. I would lose them in my backpack that was always a mess; I couldn’t keep track of my assignments like I couldn’t keep track of those thoughts. One day, my mother got called into the principal's office to talk about my behavior. They suggested signing me up for counseling, that my behavior could have been due to an underlying and untreated disorder.

That night when we got home, my mother beat me. She scolded me for bringing unwanted attention to our family, for causing a scene and making up issues that didn’t exist. I didn’t need counseling, she told me, I was just stupid. Stupid, idiotic, good-for-nothing child that can’t even pay attention in class.

The thoughts got worse after that.

When I was in the fifth grade, I started meeting up with the school counselor in secret. I told her about my mom’s adversity toward me going to therapy, though I left out the details—that sometimes, she would beat me or call me names, that some nights she took pills when she thought I wasn’t looking. I didn’t know a lot at that age, but I knew those were things I was not allowed to share.

The counselor told me I likely had some academic confidence issues. No shit. But one day, she called up my mother and told her all of her suspicions about me: That I likely had ADHD, ODD, and generalized anxiety. It would explain my lack of attention, my blatant disrespect toward the teachers, and the thoughts. I didn’t want her to tell my mom. Didn’t think she would, because of confidentiality and shit. But my mother was surprisingly receptive to the idea, especially when she found out that I would be starting medication that could fix me.

That was the first time I felt hope. Hope that I could be better, that maybe she would see me as more than just her stupid son that had no life ahead of him.

I never started treatment for my problems. It fell through, more or less, though I found out years later it was because my mom started taking the medication prescribed for me. In seventh grade, after a particularly hard night that my mom had beaten me, I left the house. I was only gone for a few hours, hanging out with people that were certainly no good for me way past my curfew. It was only a few hours, but when I returned home my mother was dead. In her hand was a bottle of adderall prescribed to Han Jisung. Me.

Grief is a funny thing. No, maybe funny isn’t the right word. Because when you’ve never known grief, it runs you over like a stampede, suffocating you until it’s all you know. In the seventh grade, grief was all I knew. Unsettled were all of the questions I had for her; Do you really think I’m stupid? Do I have any sort of potential, or am I just a waste of space? Am I worth anything? But now that she was dead and I was unable to ask her, it was like all of those statements just became the truth. If she was unable to refute them, then they would simply become a fact of life.

I dropped out of highschool after my first semester. I ran away from the shitty foster home they had placed me in, though ‘placed’ is sort of a kind word. When you’re a teen in the system, you don’t really tend to stay in one home. You bounce around, one after another, reminded that you’re nothing, nobody, and that you will never be wanted. You’ll never stay in one school district, never get to keep in contact with your friends, and never get to keep any of your possessions that you hold dear. So, the first night in foster home number ten, I ran away.

When I was fourteen years old, I joined a gang.

They were entertained by me. One thing I found out was that they were amused by how reckless I was. That I would do just about anything they asked. Because when you have nothing to lose you can raise the stakes—and if you make people laugh in return, even better. I lived off of their praise, which was maybe why I was more willing to do things that were… well, stupid, so to speak.

I’m not sure what my life would have looked like if I hadn’t met Lee Minho, my partner in crime.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Minho

Invisibility. I always knew what that was like.

I didn’t exactly realize that I grew up in a gang, at first. I knew that I wasn’t like my peers, that I should stay quiet and stay to myself, to not draw too much attention. There were just certain qualities of my life that were different–my parents would never come to parent-teacher conferences, I would never have a sleepover or birthday parties with my classmates, and I should never talk about what happened in my home.

These were just things that were always a part of my life. I never really made any friends, but I was good at school. Most people never even knew my name, but that was just how I liked it. Once I got to a certain age I really started realizing what was going on in my house–the robbing, the selling of drugs, the violent crimes, but I turned a blind eye. Always doing homework in the background of my house where these things were taking place, I got very good at listening. So even if I wasn’t involved, I always knew what was going on. And for some reason, my mother and my father, who knew that I was too unnaturally intelligent to be their child, never forced me to participate in anything. I’m not sure they ever knew that I knew more than I was supposed to.

One day when I came home I could tell that something wasn’t quite right. As soon as I walked through the door I was met with silence, not the usual commotion that I would try to avoid. As I walked through the house I found the gun that I knew was hidden in between the couch cushions, turning off the safety. Though I was only a junior in high school I knew there was a silent, unspoken responsibility to be upheld, to protect the same way I had been protected. I held the gun close to my chest, listening closely as I stood against the wall of the kitchen listening to a near-silent conversation.

“We don’t have your money,” my father confessed. A pair of footsteps walked around the room impatiently, a breath hitching as someone cocked their gun. “We never even gave them the cocaine, it was a bad deal!”

The person scoffed, clearly unamused. “You’re really going to lie to my face? The issue here is that you ratted us out to the police after selling Mark the coke.”

I heard what sounded like my mother’s voice beginning to protest, and though I didn’t know nearly enough of the situation I rounded the corner and pulled the trigger twice. Two bodies I’ve never seen before fell dead on the kitchen floor, limp with their own guns in hand. My parents were relieved, though I had never really cared how they felt towards me one way or another, I turned and put the gun back where it belonged. I let them deal with the mess of the dead bodies and the cleanup. It was the first time I ever allowed myself to intervene, and while I wasn’t exactly sure why I did it it wasn’t the last.

I was glad I was able to take advantage of my invisibility, of the people who had never heard my name, who never knew my parents even had a child let alone that he knew how to shoot a gun. That he knew the intricacies of the gang business at the age of sixteen years old.

When I was a senior in high school I graduated near top of my class. I had a perfect GPA, missing the extracurricular activities that my peers had to help them succeed on their applications, but I exceeded in every subject I ever tried in. I even got accepted to a great school in statistics and business with a full ride, but I never told my parents. I thought I was going to enroll, but then somebody new joined the gang.

We hadn’t had someone new join the gang in over two years, since I killed the two opposing members. Of course, this spiked my curiosity, but I heard that this new guy was more popular with the younger members. Han Jisung was his name, and he wasn’t quite like anybody else I had ever met before.

Some of our younger members were surprised that I had any investment in their sakes, but I was genuinely curious about this guy. Fourteen years old, dropped out of school, willing to do just about anything that anybody had ever asked of him. He seemed to be in it for shits and giggles, thriving off of the attention he got whenever he did something particularly spontaneous. Stealing from an old woman, selling drugs to a police officer’s girlfriend, he seemed to do just about anything if he could get a laugh out of it. It seemed like bad news–for everyone. If he did something particularly stupid, he would get us all fucked.

He was assigned to his first real mission–robbing a bank, and for some reason, I decided to tag along too. I’m not sure if it was because I was concerned about the future of the gang–that wasn’t necessarily something I had ever worried about before, but something told me that leaving this guy all by himself was bad news. My parents had been slacking on their leadership of our gang for years, so it was just about time before it fell apart for good.

Han Jisung didn’t quite seem to like me. Maybe that was unfair to say, because it was just that he didn’t really seem to talk to me at all at first. I think I had a tendency to over-explain things, to be protective and tell him to stand up for himself. He was no longer in high school, he told me, and so I taught him all of the things he needed to know along the way of our mission. I skipped the first day of my college orientation.

What I wasn’t expecting was for things to work out as perfectly as they did. Jisung was an amazing listener. He rarely needed to be explained to twice, and for some reason his brain had a perfect understanding and explanation of blueprints. Once being taught a weapon he was a certified master of it, and though I had shot a gun and had killed people before I was more confident in his abilities, his way around a dagger or a pistol.

Han Jisung was quite literally made to work with me, I concluded, as our heist went off without a hitch. What had started off as a mission that was a joke in order to get Jisung incriminated was more than a success, as we accumulated thousands of dollars without the authorities ever knowing it was us. And though the younger boy was apprehensive towards me at first and I had spent years telling myself I would never get involved in my parent’s business, it was obvious that we were… well, partners in crime, so to speak.

I found out more about Han Jisung. His mother was just recently deceased and he was very clearly being taken advantage of by the other members of the gang. He was willing to do anything for the attention, when all he needed was someone to believe in him.

Jisung was my very first friend. I wasn’t willing to call it that at first, but that’s what it was. I was willing to finally tell someone what it was like to grow up in a gang, to work hard to be the top of your class but get no recognition for it. I thought that maybe I would go to college just to be far away from here, just so I could be somebody else, but I was never even sure if that’s what I wanted.

Jisung told me that he has always been seen as less than, as stupid. No matter how hard he worked, nobody would ever see him for his efforts. He would always, always be dismissed.

I didn’t want to be invisible. He didn’t want to be dumb. It seemed like for the first time, we each saw each other as more than what we had always been. And we worked exceptionally well together, even if neither of us necessarily wanted to be involved in crime.

I started to think that maybe I could end up like my parents. Maybe I could see a future in this gang, that I could be someone to professionally carry out crimes and get away with it like nobody else ever had before. That maybe there was a future for me and Jisung to be out there, on top and well-known. Though, I unfortunately caught my parent’s negative attention, and with Jisung still known as ‘the boy that would do just about anything,’ it didn’t come of any good.

We were told we needed to infiltrate another gang. The opposing gang whose leaders I had killed two years ago were still out for vengeance and it was nothing more than a death wish. Even we could realize that, but there was no getting out of this.

Jisung and I were walking the streets, looking for new weapons and discussing infiltration plans when we were approached by an unfamiliar stranger.

“Are you the two that carried out the infamous robbery on main street two months ago?”

Jisung and I had both frozen, reaching for our guns in our pockets as we eyed the mystery man. He had a large nose and wide lips, dark eyes with longer black hair to match his dark ensemble. He gestured us toward an alleyway, and with knowing side-glances, Jisung and I cautiously joined the man for some privacy. Bang Chan, he had introduced himself, one of the most well-known mafia leaders in this area. That was not something to be taken lightly.

“That infiltration was not something to be executed by beginners,” he laughed, whistling as if to show us just how impressed he was. “You would need to be someone seriously smart, to really know what you’re doing.”

“And your point is?” I had asked, crossing my arms and looking at him with trepidation. I ignored the way that Jisung’s eyes had lit up upon being called smart, the way that Chan had taken notice of this and used this to his advantage.

“The point is, I want–no, need people on my team that are as smart, as capable as you two. The Lee family has been a part of this city for years, very well-known. But you, Minho, you don’t like to make yourself known, do you? You would prefer to keep yourself in the shadows, to focus on your studies. And you, Jisung, you just need somewhere to belong, don’t you? Aren’t you tired of not fitting in?”

Okay, so this guy seriously knew what he was talking about, how to use his words to take advantage of a situation. It was as if he saw the way that Jisung reacted and easily maneuvered his plan to work in his favor. I tried to look away from the way that Jisung tensed up, visibly excited when Chan spoke. I even had to calm my own nerves. I was sure there was nothing he could offer us, nothing that could persuade me, but I was wrong. Bang Chan already had his victory written in stone.

“Come, work for me instead. I’m sure your talents could be properly used. They’re being exploited right now, aren’t they? Don’t you want to get away? Minho, don’t you want to forget the Lee family, let your intelligence be acknowledged for what it is? I promise that we won’t throw you into any known danger for our own amusement at SKZ. You can’t tell me it’s not tempting, no?”

And no, I couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting. Though I had no more chance of escaping through means of a college degree, I could still get away through other means. I could be useful in ways other than people throwing me head-first into a suicide mission. It seemed more sustainable for me and Jisung both, and I could tell I wasn’t the only one considering it.

We had two days before we were expected to take down the opposing gang.

“The only catch is you need to come with me right now and never look back.”

One glance at Jisung and I could tell that our decision was already made. My partner in crime, now at a different location to work with me within reasonable means. It was strange, wasn’t it? To want to keep my first and only friend, to be willing to continue the life of crime in a way that was more organized and deliberate?

But on top of that, even moreso I felt this innate desire to protect Jisung, my only friend. I couldn’t let him go by himself either for fear that he would be easily exploited by this powerful man.

And even though I had become well-known as the ‘master of infiltration’ I wasn’t sure how much longer I wanted to be invisible for, not when I found the one person who had made me feel seen. I could either send us both into a death trap and Jisung would never be recognized for his talent, risk the only thing I’ve ever cared about dying before my eyes, or I could take Chan up on his offer.

“We’re in.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 2 months

Text

Currently Watching - August

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 29.08.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

gif-requests are currently closed🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in August with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. 4 Minutes 🇹🇭 (4/8)

Okay. I catched up. I wasn't in the mood for this series, but now I am a little bit hooked. We have a really cute couple here with a really nice love-making-scene. We have a totally messed up relationship of three people, two love each other, two hurt the other one and two are horny for one with very graphic scenes. And yes, I saw it too. Oh, the story itself? Confusing, yet interesting.

2. Cityboy_Log 4.2 🇰🇷 (17/23)

This week was... okayish. They were mostly bonding at a group and doing stuff together. Nothing really happend. They played games, the trouple was cute and JJ tried to act, but really, those moments were more cringe than anything else...

3. First Note of Love 🇹🇼 (4/12)

The looks they gave each other! The constant bickering! The compliments! The necklace as a gift! I see you! I like them. They get more comfortable together and are now forming a band. Hopefully Sea can help Neil getting back on stage without fainting or having a panic attack. I am curious how this whole series will move on, but I am intrigued. But what is that age gap?

4. Hidamari ga Kikoeru 🇯🇵 (10/12)

🥲 I'm fine... the only thing that helped me in the end was the preview for next week. How could he listen to Maya? How? I know why, but still... why? And now Taichi thinks he was just a replacable someone who doesn't mean anything to Kohei 😭 I really don't like it here! And I hope Maya chokes on her words! I don't care that she's going to cry next episode. Right now I still don't like her. Boys! Get your shit together and talk to each other! Please!

5. I Saw You In My Dream 🇹🇭 (7/12)

THIS WHOLE SCENE WAS SO DAMN CUTE!!!!! I like them! And Yu finally collecting his courage to tell Ai, he likes him. I need Ai to tell him he likes him too! But the preview for next week! I can't wait! The best start in my vacation! Do I feel bad for Wann? No, not really. He saw the signs, he got the vibe between Yu and Ai, but he still tried. I guess he is a good guy, but he is not Yu.

6. Seoul Blues 🇰🇷 (3/8)

Well... Our bad boy got together with their mutual friend. Little Mr. Angsty likes our bad boy, but is to afraid what might change, so he didn't take his change when bad boy confessed to him. And of course he now is unsure about bad boy's feelings. And our lady in denial knows that her bad boy doesn't like he like that and I guess she can feel those two are very much into each other, but she still wanna try it and give it a shot. Well... good luck. And while she is thinking about her bad boy thinking about someone else while kissing her, her bad boy is now kissing little Mr. Angsty. I don't know how this friendship can be fixed. There is so much wrong with their entire realtion-/friendship... and I love it!

7. Takara no Vidro 🇯🇵 (9/11)

I started with mixed feelings about this series and I ended up totally loving it! I enjoy this series very much! They talk with each other and they understand each other. They have such a good relationship at this point and I love how Takara is opening up and questioning his plans for the future. Life is unpredictable, love is unpredictable and there can be people who change your plans for the better or worst, but that is something for other shows.

8. The On1y One 🇹🇼 (4/12)

Best chemistry! I love them! I love pounting Wang and this absolutely smitten boy Tian so much! Tian was everything this episode. He couldn't stop looking at Wang and couldn't stop smiling. He is already in love. And Wang uses Tian for learning, but he is slowly falling. And I hope it will be this: he fell first, but he fell harder! Good series!

9. The Trainee 🇹🇭 (8/12)

This was one of the cutest episodes ever and at the same time one of the saddest with the most wholesome break-up ever. Ba-Mhee did something wrong, she apologised and Tae realised that he is part of the problem. I am cusious how they work around this whole story. But Jane and Ryan. Oh the cuteness! I loved every scene with them. And I loved that Jane was jealous and Ryan reassured him. I am a little bit anxious about next week. Guess this was my favorite episode so far!

10. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Those two flirt a lot and are a married couple. Everyone knows that. And I love and enjoy that! Overall this is such a fun watch and the different sects and intrigues are sometimes a little bit confusing, but interesting. I love this world of martial arts and I love how protective Wen Kexing is over Zhou Zishu. I haven't felt like watching this lately. I wasn't in the right mood.

Finished in August

Series

His Man Season 3 🇰🇷

What was that? I enjoyed the first two seasons so much! And this one felt very manipulated by the production. The secret missions were just there to cause drama and misunderstandings. And othe rparts really felt just boring. I was not really invested in the couples this time. I wish we would have seen more of their friendships. Perhaps that was because the fight between JY and MK was so centred. In the end I am happy MS and MK made it and became a couple. And it is nice that SM and JS got together too. But who thought it was a good idea to keep that "break-up" between YJ and HM in the show? That was just awful to watch! I never saw them vibing together, but a short notice that they decided to stay friends would have been enough. I don't have to see that Hanmin gave the ring back, they made together. I get where he is coming from, but I wish they could have talked about this in private! There were some bad coices of the production which was not favourable for the show! If there is a season 4 I hope it stays away from artificial drama! Just a 7 out of 10 for me.

Century of Love 🇹🇭

We got a happy ending. Hm. Great. I don't know. I guess I wouldn't have mind if San had died. It was a little bit too constructed with the little piece of that stone in the end and the change of heart from the fake Vad... So I am a little bit dissappointed with the ending. Yes, I cried, because I have feelings, but at some points I had to skip parts because there were just too many emotions that clashed in my face. But I am happy for San and Vee. Overall a good 8 out of 10.

Bad Guy 🇰🇷

Honestly? I like cheating stories when my couple wins. In conclusion, I liked this short series. I am curious if we get a second part like with Blue Boys. I would be happy if we could just end it here. The two sad boys finally got their happy ending and can now be enough for each other. I like that. Wish we could see a little bit of their everyday life or how this decision impacts their lifes. I liked it. I give it a 8 out of 10.

Cosmic Playlover 🇯🇵

I enjoyed the show. It felt a little bit rushed, but over all, I enjoyed the plot and the love story. Two men working in the beauty industry and both go their own way and just loving what they do. That was also really good to see! I especially enjoyed the dynamic between these two. And they talked! Sure there was drama, but in the end they talkes to each other and listened to each other and could solve their problems. Such a nice little show. I give it good 8,5 out of 10.

Movie

Short Film

Dropped in August

My Love Mix-Up! 🇹🇭

I guess I've dropped this one. I don't know why exactly. I think it was a cute story and I liked watching it, but right now I don't have the energy to keep going. I will come back to this one when it is finished and when I am in the mood for some fluff.

Looking forward to in August

The Last Time - Trailer (Aug 16th)

The Loyal Pin - Trailer (Aug 4th)

Sugar Dog Life - Trailer (Aug 4th)

Summer Night - Trailer (Aug 5th)

Cosmetic Playlover (Aug 6th)

Monster Next Door - Trailer (Aug 8th)

First Note Of Love - Trailer (Aug 12th)

Addicted Heroin - Trailer (Aug 13th)

Love Beneathe The Stars - Trailer (Aug 16th)

The Paradise Of Thornes - Trailer (Aug 22nd - Thai Cinemas)

The On1y One (Aug 22nd)

Affair - Trailer (Aug 30th)

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queer-overwatch · 6 months

Note

Hi!! Could I request maybe a Venture x Reader (Any pronouns will do) on like a museum date? I want Venture to yap.Please and Thank you. ( Also bless the both of you I needed more Venture content I was tweaking without them)

Venture at a Museum!

Aaa ty sm for the request!!! I love that idea so much- they are such a yapper I love them <3 also your welcome hehe, had to take thing into our own hands >:3 (also bc u didn't request a specific format (like hcs or oneshot) i just did a short lil oneshot, hope thats okay!) -Frisk

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

"Look, look- they have a whole section on rocks! Kinda basic selection but it's still rocks!"

You never thought you'd be able to learn so much about rocks in one day, but it seemed like Venture had made it their personal mission to force as much information into your brain as possible. You didn't mind, really! It was always nice listening to them rant about all the cool stuff they found while walking around the museum you'd planned to bring them to, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"Augh, I love sedimentary rocks- they're my favorite! 'cuz sometimes they have like, little fossils in them and I'm like, "Woah! A cool thing in another cool thing!" and it's awesome! One time I found a trilobite fossil in a rock, it was so cool! I wonder if they have any here- that'd be so amazing! I wonder what they taste like-"

After spilling every single fact they could think of about the rocks on display, Venture drags you to a section of the museum dedicated to Egyptian history, though they mostly just seemed interested in the architecture of the pyramids. You really did try to listen, but you mostly just caught the gist of their long, long, long explanations- something about a Mastaba being like a sort of prototype to pyramids? You were just happy to see them so excited, even if you didn't quite understand what they were so hyped about.

"Oh, if only that British lady could go back to ancient Egypt and get the architects of their time to answer my questions! I'd give anything to be able to do that!" Sensing the slight disappointment creeping up on them, you decide to try and bring Venture elsewhere, not wanting them to spend any energy on being upset by what they can't do.

"Why don't we go look at the dinosaur fossils? I'm sure there's some mistakes in the descriptions that you can correct!" You take their hand, gently pulling them away from the long essay-like description of images of the pyramids that they were reading. Incising them with promises of being able to show off their intensive knowledge of dinosaur fossils, or fossils in general.

Venture perked up almost immediately, following behind you as they ready themselves to go on and on about their favorite dinosaur ever, the Deinocheirus! You tried to ask why it was their favorite ones, and all they said was something about it being "them fr fr" and having rocks in its stomach. You weren't too keen on questioning that one.

They take a large step so they're walking next to you, swinging your arms as you walk, "It's always been one of my biggest goals to find a dinosaur fossil! I really hope I do one day, if I did I could die happy!"

"Please don't die- I would be so sad if you died." You squeeze their hand, voice light as you joke with them.

"Aw but I wanna! I wanna be a fossil for future people like me to discover! When I do die I wanna be buried with a bunch of cool stuff! Maybe mess around with my bones a little, just to throw 'em off!" As you finally reach the fossil exhibits, they abandon you to run off and check over every. single. fossil. which while endearing, gave you a lot of running to do in an attempt to catch up.

"Finally! For once a museum that gets everything right! Well, everything as far as we know-" They stand next to one of the larger fossils, not anything you recognized as you take your place next to them, catching your breath.

"Wow, how impressive-" you wheeze, standing up straight and stretching out your legs as you link arms with Venture, trying to stop them from running off on you again.

They laugh, grabbing you by the shoulder and dragging you in the tightest hug you've ever received.

"Thank you, so, so, so much for planning this. And for listening to me talk about rocks so much, and for caring about me- and a million other things! I can't even remember everything you've done for me, but I know its a lot!" They let you go, still holding you by the shoulders, the biggest smile you've ever seen on a person splayed across their face.

"Of course-! I love spending time with you, you're well aware of that, silly." You laugh, grabbing their wrists and taking their hands off your shoulders, holding their hands as you admire the glow of excitement on their face.

"Welllll since you clearly don't mind, can we go to this other museum I found online next week?! I heard they have an area where you get to watch an hour long video on the story of Julius Caesar!"

#venture #overwatch venture #venture x reader #venture overwatch #overwatch x reader #sloane cameron #if i made any mistakes anywhere please tell me-#im a lil stupid #Xornk

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year

Text

I Didn't Ask For This (part four)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, azzie being and asshole(obviously, he's been forced), suicidal thoughts, almost death, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: I promise it gets better. Future chapters are going to get happier.(that was a note to myself so I don't get carried away again)

•○🌑○•

Y/n blinked the sleep from her eyes as male voices reached her, jerking upright when she realised she was not in her bed. Where was she?

Then, as her eyes passed over the red walls around her and the expensive furniture, everything that happened the previous day came rushing back.

Her head swung around to try and find the source of the voices that she had heard, now quieted. She found the General and the High Lord standing right by the door, now staring at her.

As she registered the fact that she probably looked like a mess, she hurried to stand, nearly faceplanting in the process. Blood climbed up her neck and cheeks as she turned to look at the High Lord who had stepped forward.

"Good morning Y/n. Did you have a peaceful sleep?" He asked, his tone gentle. Though she hadn't, she nodded. His eyes were filled with understanding, and he sighed. "May I ask you a question?" When she gave a curt nod, he continued. "Why were you sleeping here? Cassian says he showed you to Azriel's room."

"I'm not–" She began, her voice raspy, before cleared her throat. "I'm not sure I can tell you that my Lord."

"Rhysand, please." He said. "It's okay, you can tell us anything. Did he kick you out?"

Her eyes darted around nervously. Maybe this could be some kind of test? Maybe Azriel was hiding in a corner of the room, looking for a reason to hate her more if she spoke bad about him out to his brothers.

When she didn't respond, the General spoke up. "There are guest rooms here. You didn't have to sleep on the couch. It would have been uncomfortable."

The door next to the General opened abruptly, then slammed back shut, making him jump. As if the house was trying to say that it tried to get her to a better place. A tiny smile bloomed on Y/n's lips.

The house was... adorable to say the least.

"The house tried to get me to go somewhere else, but I was tired and decided to stay here." A wind that sounded a lot like a huff passed through the room, making Y/n shake her head. "I hope that's okay."

"That is completely fine." The High Lord– Rhysand, she had to chide herself internally– grinned. "I've got a feeling you and the House are getting together well?" At that, Y/n smiled. A real one.

"You could say that."

The door creaked open then, the General's mate peeking in.

"Oh, I've been searching for you." She said, staring straight at Y/n. Stepping in, she pointed to the two males. "Get out."

"Why?" The General all but pouted.

"Becuase I say so."

He grumbled, but left with the High Lord. The female–Nesta, Y/n now remembered– came closer.

"I was going out with my friends today, and I was wondering if you would like to come along."

Y/n shook her head slowly. "I don't know them, and I wouldn't want to intrude–"

"You wouldn't be intruding. Plus, I'm pretty sure I can introduce you to them. And other than that, they would love to meet you. You can become a part of our group." She said, an undertone of excitement in her voice, which made Y/n falter, wondering if she should accept the offer.

Then, she sighed and nodded. Nesta let out a squeal of happiness and linked her arms with Y/n, pulling her away and into a guest bedroom, getting ready for the meeting.

•○🌑○•

Y/n settled on a simple white gown and a braid for her hair, despite Nesta's very weird preferences. Her bag had appeared in the room as soon as they entered, increasing the love she already felt for the house.

Now they were sitting in a cafe, waiting for the others to show up. From what she knew of the two females, they had tragic pasts. One of them hadn't stepped foot out of the House of Wind for two years, and she only started a few months back.

Soon, they arrived. It wasn't anything like she expected. She thought I would be uncomfortable and awkward, but they behaved as if Y/n was their childhood friend. As the evening progressed, they talked and laughed, returned to the house and settled in one of the smaller libraries, then talked about their pasts. Them telling her about their pasts without an ounce of hesitation prompted her into speaking of her childhood too, and they were horrified to say the least.

At one point, Emerie was even ready to go and murder Y/n's father, but settled down after a few moments, still fuming. It warmed Y/n immensely that someone she had barely known for a few hours would care so much for her.

She just prayed that her husband would stop being an asshole too.

•○🌑○•

It had been two weeks of absolute hell for Y/n. Because of him.

Whenever she walked into a room he was in, he would give a huge sigh of annoyance, glare at her and walk away. Whenever she tried to speak with him, he would yell at her, just like the first night. Everytime, she had to hold back tears.

She didn't understand it, this hatred. Did he not remember that she was forced into this as well? Or did he think she went to Hewn City purposefully trying to force him into a marriage? Or did he not want to accept the fact that no one was to fault in this situation? Did he just hate Y/n?

As she turned a corner, she was met with a sight that broke whatever hope she had, and probably answered all of her questions.

Standing there was Azriel, with a female pressed between him and the wall, and, he was kissing her, passionately.

Elain. The High Lady and Nesta's sister.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment before she stepped back and away from sight. She pressed herself against a wall, her breaths coming shorter and shorter. How could he? How–

She knew she didn't own him, but it hurt her all the same. They were married for Cauldrons sake! And even though their relationship was nonexistent at best, she never would do what he was doing.

That was when she noticed a shadow right in front of her face, bobbing up and down. All blood drained from Y/n's face when the shadow darted away, back to its master. There was nothing Y/n could do except run.

So she did, as fast as she could, towards her room. As she pressed herself against the door, footsteps sounded, coming closer to her room. Panic clawed at Y/n, her heart clenching when the person knocked.

She didn't answer, trying to quiet her breaths. But then a voice called her name, and she started to calm down.

Nesta.

Y/n opened the door and Nesta walked in as if she owned the place.

"I was searching for you and saw you running, so I wanted to check if everything's alright." She declared, but then she faltered, her features softening when she saw the state Y/n was in. "What happened?"

It all came pouring out of Y/n as she sat down in an armchair. Nesta was fuming, so Y/n added, "It's okay. He doesn't owe me anything."

A mischievous glint entered Nesta's eyes and she grinned. "If he doesn't owe you anything, you dont owe him anything."

"What do you mean?" Though Y/n had an inkling of what might be brewing in Nesta's mind, she still asked carefully.

"Oh you just wait darling."

•○🌑○•

"I–I can't wear this, Nesta." Y/n mumbled as she stared at herself in the mirror. Nesta had come to Mor, telling her of her mastermind plan, all while Y/n had stood in a corner face-palming. They had then informed her that everyone was going to a place called Rita's, which had been the main reason Nesta had been searching for her.

Now they had forced her into something that barely had the right to be called a rag, let alone a dress.

"You can and you will." She was adamant. But when Y/n refused to budge, Nesta handed her another dress. This one, thank the cauldron, could be called a dress, but for someone who didn't need to breathe. As she tried it on, she had to wonder why she was even here in the first place when she could be peacefully sleeping right now.

This dress was stretchy and fully black, like a second skin on Y/n with a high neck and long sleeves that both left everything to the imagination as well as nothing.

"Will this be alright?" Mor asked. When Y/n nodded, they both launched into what their plan was as Y/n blushed.

•○🌑○•

She wasn't really fond of this place, Y/n decided in the first few moments she was there. It was a little too loud for her. But she had a purpose, or rather, Mor and Nesta had a purpose.

When everyone, including Azriel had arrived at Rita's, the two females had pulled Y/n away to the bar, where they sat on high stools and sipped drinks. Mor and Nesta were having wine, and Y/n had some non alcoholic drink that Mor had ordered for her.

According to their plan, they were going to get Y/n a man, as Nesta put it. Someone who might want to have Y/n, because when Azriel and she had promised themselves to each other, there was no rule stating that they could have a relationship with someone else. And while Y/n didn't really like the idea, she had to distract herself with something.

Soon enough, a male slid into the stool next to her, giving her a wink and a smile. She panicked, turning to Nesta, who nodded enthusiastically. So Y/n gave him a small smile back as he started up a conversation. Nothing much, just where she was from and what her interests were. It all went smoothly, until it didn't.

The male glanced behind Y/n, going pale. She turned too, wanting to know what happened. And there he stood.

Her husband.

He looked... scary, for the lack of a better word in her mind.

"Who are you?" He asked the male in a deadly voice, completely ignoring Y/n.

"I could ask the same of you." The male said, though his voice trembled.

"But you won't, you already know who I am. So, run, little boy. Before my generosity ends." The male opened his mouth to argue, but Azriel continued. "That's my wife you're–"

Y/n stopped hearing anything he said then, a ringing in her ears. He had just called her his wife, when he would not even look at her when she tried to talk to him. She stared at him, wondering if he was serious. But then he turned to her.

"We're going home." And she wanted to slap him. He didn't give her a choice, taking her hand and winnowing away. The next moment they were standing in one of the sitting rooms in the House.

And then, he had the audacity to turn and walk away. Every other time when she had tried to speak with him and he had walked away, she had let him do that, but not now. Not when one moment he was calling her his wife and scaring away males who wanted to talk to her, and the next he pretended as if she didn't exist.

So she walked ahead of him and blocked his path. He stopped, but didn't look at her, increasing her fury. "Why would you do that?"

He didn't answer, starting forward again, trying to go around her. She pushed against his chest. He finally looked at her, his eyes cold. "Let me go, Y/n."

"Then tell me why you did that!"

A sigh escaped his lips. "Because it felt right at the time, but now I feel like that was a mistake. If I hadn't taken you away, then maybe you would have left me alone."

She gaped at him, at a loss for words as he again tried to walk away. When she didn't move, he turned towards a nearby balcony and took off. Her heart was breaking, and the agony was unbearable.

So she silenced everything around her, and, her resolve hardening, she walked towards a staircase nearby.

She just wanted some peace. And peace she would get.

•○🌑○•

The cool night air stung Y/n's cheeks, but she didn't feel it through the numbness in her body. She just wondered what the air would feel like when she sped through it towards the ground.

She was standing on the edge of a landing, one that didn't have a railing. These past weeks she'd had nothing to do except explore the house, and she had come across a secret stairway full of dust and spider webs which led to here. From the looks of it, no one knew about this place.

She took a deep breath and lifted a leg, suspending it in the air as she stared below her and imagined what would happen if she took a step forward. A smile bloomed on her lips. She could finally have her peace, and she won't be a burden for anyone any longer. Freedom lay just a few inches from her feet, all she had to do was let go of the restrains holding her in place.

Of course, she wasn't going to take that step. Not because she wanted to live or anything like that. No, she wouldn't take that step because she had come to care for the Inner Circle, mainly Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. Maybe Mor too. So she wouldn't take that step.

But when did life ever go according to what she wanted? Was it even life when she didn't know what it felt like to be alive?

She started to take her feet back, to set it on the firmness of the floor below her. But then, it got caught against the rough stone. She lost her balance. And fell forward.

All thoughts fled her mind except the fact that she was falling too fast. Even though it might have given her some relief, she didn't want to die.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.

But she did neither. If she was going to die, she would die with dignity. She would die with all the confidence she never had.

The ground was getting closer, the air tearing at her hair and cheeks and eyes. So she closed her eyes and waited for the pain. Or would it not hurt? Maybe she'd stop feeling the moment she touched the ground.

A loud flapping sound came from somewhere above her, and then suddenly Y/n's body was jerked in the other direction, all the air fleeing her lungs as she felt two solid bands of muscle and fire wrap around her. Despite not knowing who had become her saviour, she didn't care. She was just grateful for being saved.

But then she opened her eyes to find herself staring at Azriel, who pointedly ignored her. All the thoughts of why she had wanted to do this in the first place came back to her, and she pushed against his chest. He looked down to glare at her, flying faster.

He landed in the training area, but even though they they were both standing on stable ground, he didn't let go. When Y/n tried to push him away, he pulled her impossibly closer.

"Are you insane?" He murmured, his eyes churning like a storm. She didn't answer, still trying to untangle him from her. After a few moments, he let go. She stumbled back, trying to put as much space between them as she could, panting. "That was stupid. You can't throw your life away like that!"

His breathing mirrored hers as his voice echoed around them.

"What do you care about my life? And if you have somehow forgotten, you told me to do that yourself."

"I didn't!"

"Oh you most certainly did."

"When?" His eyes were so wide, Y/n wondered if his eyeballs would fall out.

"The first night."

"I didnt mean it!"

Y/n turned away, not having the energy to argue with him. But of course he was not one to be ignored. He caught her wrist and whipped her around, snarling.

"Didn't you want to talk? Talk. I'm ready to hear."

"Now you're ready to listen? Then answer my question first. Why do you hate me so much?" She didn't want to talk right now, still shaken from her encounter with near death, but she didn't know when he'd be ready to talk again. This could be her only chance, and she would take it.

"Bec–because you ruined my life."

"I ruined your life? Do you think I had any choice in the matter? I didn't ask for this, Azriel."

"I know you didn't, but–"

"But what Azriel? Do you think I didn't try to stop him from taking me to Hewn City that day? How do you think that went?" He was silent, staring at her, so she forged on, laughing. "You say I ruined your life, but atleast you had one. You lived. I didn't Azriel. Everyday I woke up hoping that you would come, and take me away to a better place, just like you told me you would. That was all you ever talked about when we were kids. That you would take me away when we grew up and always be my friend." He flinched at the venom in her voice. "I prayed you weren't dead. Because in that home, Azriel? I didn't live, I existed. My father wouldn't let me live. You left and had most of your life to enjoy, but do you know what I went through in that cauldron forsaken place?"

"You can't blame me for what your father did." There was no bite to his words and they sounded more like a question.

"Oh? And you can blame me for what our fathers did?" He stayed quiet. She continued laughing, tears now streaming down her face. "The suffering I went through everyday was not enough for my father. Almost everyday, he'd taunt and tell at me that I was burden and if you didn't come back, he'd kill me. I had to keep looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't going to fulfil that promise."

"You could have left..."

Y/n raised a brow, an incredulous smile on her face. "Do you even want me to answer that?" All the energy that had been in her drained, the venom in her voice now gone. She turned away. "When you don't know what someone's life has been like, don't speak about it like you do." She paused, then asked one last question. "Why did you... bring me back from Rita's?"

"Because you're my wife and you're supposed to be mine..." He sounded so guilty and sad that for a moment Y/n pitied him. He probably loved Elain, and he was now stuck with Y/n.

She turned halfway, looking at him. "If I'm yours, are you supposed to be mine? Because when I saw you and Elain today, it didn't seem like it."

The blood drained from his face as he stared at her. Her brows furrowed. Had the shadow not told him about her presence? She glanced at them where they churned restlessly around him. Feeling something cool caressing her wrist, she glanced down. It was a shadow, slithering against her skin. A corner of her lips lifted as the shadow darted back to its master. She turned away again.

She left him there, planning on going to sleep.

Hoping to never wake up.

•○🌑○•

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Part 5

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