#looking at you YA novel 'Flipped' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bloomries · 2 months

Text

it's me or ____!

includes : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor.

summary : asking them to choose between you and their favorite thing (lightheartedly).

warnings : gn! reader. possessive! satan (could read a bit yandere, so be wary of that). name calling (in belphegor's).

LUCIFER

his classical music records

Your question was very out of nowhere, and Lucifer doubt you meant it seriously, still his heart dropped when you picked up one of his records and fiddled with it. He chuckles tensely, hands flexing by his side. "You already know the answer, why bother asking?"

You send him a glance, noticing his tense behavior. You look down at the record in your hand, deciding to tease him a little further. "Do I?" You pout, "Are you sure you don't love this piece of vinyl more?"

Lucifer wondered if you were the demon in that moment, as you toy with his beloved heart. When you finally cease your teasing, setting down the record where it belonged, he let out a breath of relief.

Then, with quick strides he walks over to where you are and takes you by the shoulders. "I apologize if it wasn't obvious before, but I should hope you know that I love you more." You smile, confirming you knew this, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He pulls back and clears his throat. "But I also do really love my records, so please don't scare me like that again..."

MAMMON

grimm

"I can't choose between the two loves of my life?? How do you expect me to choose?" He asks with a pout. You two had just woken up, not even out of bed, when you asked the demon this question. You weren't expecting this response, although you feel a little foolish to not expect this outcome.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight." You say, rolling over so your back faces him. He lets out another whine, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck.

"Don't be upset," his hot breath tickles your neck. "Grimm lets me spoil ya, y'know. Whenever I buy somethin' I know ya like, and bring it home to ya and see that big ol' smile... How can I not like grimm when it makes such good things happens, hmm?" Well, Mammon is surely very charming, you'll give him that. You peek over at him and he's smiling that smile that has your stomach doing flips.

"Fine... No couch..." You pinch his cheek. "But if I ever ask that question again, the answer better be 'you, darling,' got it?"

"L- Loud and clear!"

LEVIATHAN

his merch collection

"H- Huh!?" Leviathan fell out of his seat at your sudden question. You chuckle quietly at his reddening face. It was a simple question of 'what do you like more, me or all your merch collection' and he's already gotten this flustered.

"Well, I- uhm, well..." He's stumbling over his words, looking around his room. He did really love his all the items he's collected throughout the years, but he also really loved you. Dread settles in his stomach when he realizes just how much he loves you because... is becoming a normie!? Why would he sell every last drop of merchandize for you? He'd give up videogames, anime, fantasy novels, all for you if you truly asked him too.

You watch as he spirals, mumbling to himself. You're a little worried now, poking at him cautiously. He doesn't react. "Uhm, Levi? It was just a joke, you don't have to think so seriously..." You say, before he's sitting back up, staring at you with wide, watery eyes. Shit, you almost felt a little guilty for asking him now.

"I... I love you... More... Yeah." He nods, his face on fire as he takes a nearby figurine and holds it close to his heart. You decide to leave, to let him come to terms with his newfound realization that he, Leviathan, who had sworn off any real connections, has indeed made a connection with someone so profound he'd do anything for them.

It'll take him a while to come to terms with this.

SATAN

enchanted books

"Don't be ridiculous, obviously I love you more than my enchanted books." He rolls his eyes at your question. Was it not obvious how madly in love he was with you? Did he need to be more outright and forthcoming with his affections?

"Yeah, but wouldn't you be sad without your books?" You ask, looking through his bookshelf. Satan's eyes follow your every move, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips as he sneaks up behind you, before wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Well, yes I would be, but life would be much more dull without you by my side." He confesses. "Unfortunately for both of us, I need you more than anything else now." He pulls away slightly, so you can turn around in his arms and give him a pointed look- what does he mean by 'unfortunately'? He can read you easily, and decides to explain. "I just mean I hope you don't plan on leaving anytime soon, I fear I might not be able to let you go."

Placing a light peck on your cheek, Satan pulls back to look into your gaze. "But don't go thinking you can throw away my books now, okay?" You stifle laugh, nodding.

"Wasn't planning on it."

ASMODEUS

new clothes

"I can't believe you would think- obviously I love you more!" Asmo scolds, huffing and puffing at your words. He's offended you would think he loves anything more than you! "Of course I do really enjoy new clothes, but they'd just be boring if I didn't have you to show them off to! or have you to help me accessorizes with, or-" You place your lips on his for a sweet kiss (mostly to stop him from lecturing you).

"Okay, I understand, 'm sorry for asking." Asmo blinks a few times, a little dazed by your kiss (he always is) before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh no, don't think that'll make me forget." He scoffs, shaking his head. "Do you realize how worried I am now, thinking that you don't feel loved enough?" He sighs dramatically, blowing some hair out of his face. "I think this calls for a date night." He's got a mischievous little twinkle in his eye. "Don't you think?"

"Oh my," So this is what he was getting all worked up for. "I agree, I think I need you to show me just how much you love me~" You coo, playing into his antics. He grins, pulling you close to him.

"Thought so," he hums, nuzzling into you. "I know just the place to go, too. Shall we get ready together?"

BEELZEBUB

burgers

"You... or burgers?" Beel asked, stopping midway to bite into the delicious, juicy burger he ordered. Beel gives you a sad look, and you instantly feel a kick to the gut. You regret asking, his little frown making your heart twist into knots.

"I-" You go to laugh it off, to tell him that you were only messing around, but he cuts in before you're able to.

"I love you more. Really." He finally takes a bite of his burger, which your grateful for, before he's taking your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. "I know I'm not great at showing my feelings... But I'll try better from now on." He says, full of earnest. Oh, your heart is shattering. You lean across the table, cupping his cheeks and giving him a big kiss.

"No, I'm sorry Beel! I know you love me, I was just trying to be silly, 'm sorry I got you so worried!" He seems to relax a little at that- so you were just pranking him? He lets out a shaky breath of relief, that's good to know. Still...

"I see... Well, I will still try to show my feelings more."

BELPHEGOR

his pillow

"Don't be ridiculous," Belphegor huffs at your stupidity, rolling over in his mix of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. "What a stupid question." He shakes his head, "I knew you were dumb but geez..." He peeks a glance at you, before continuing. "Obviously those two things are the same."

You can't see his cheeky, shit-eating grin but you can feel it. You throw a pillow at him, exclaiming "I am not a pillow!" for the umpteenth time. He swats the pillow away, snickering to himself.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say." He snickers, cozying up in his bed, feeling his eyelids grow heavier. "Either way, you're my favorite so... don't get all huffy, 'kay?" Your cheeks grow a little warm at his sleepy confession, and you sneak a little closer to him.

"Belphi-" You let out a shriek as he pulls you into the bed with him, swiftly positioning you both so his head is resting atop of you. You groan, you should've seen this coming. "You brat, let me go."

"Sorry, but I plan on using my favorite pillow- I mean, human, to help me sleep, so quit your yapping, will you?"

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om headcanons #om imagines #omswd x reader #omswd headcanons #omswd imagines #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

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sadhours · 1 year

Text

READING FOR PLEASURE

billy hargrove x f!reader

a/n: this was inspired by @billyhargrovetitties story Cruel Summer, if you haven’t read it… you must. I am obsessed with it.

summary: billy finds your romance novel and teases you about it

warnings; 18+ minors dni, pure smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, billy doesn’t pull out and he panics, oops 🙊

When you return to your bedroom, Billy’s laid out on the bed, on his stomach and propping his head up with his elbow. It’s a cute sight, makes your stomach flip and fill with butterflies as a dirty blonde curl falls in the center of his forehead. You smile warmly and then glance down to see he’s got the romance novel you’d hidden in your bedside table spread out before him and he’s reading it with this all too satisfied grin on his face. When he gazes towards you, the grin meets his eyes, crinkling them up.

“Found your porn stash,” he teases, closing the cover but keeping his fingers tucked into the page he was on. “A Gentle Feuding,” he reads the title out loud with this exaggerated wistfulness to his voice and you know your face is all kinds of shades of crimson. You hope Billy hadn’t noticed the man portrayed on the cover somewhat resembles him, blonde and tan, and that’s why you’d picked the novel in the first place.

“It’s historical,” you lamely reason, lunging forward to grab the book from him but Billy’s reflexes are as quick as a cats. He pulls it out of your fingertips and you attempt to snatch it again, but he pulls it back and you go toppling over him. Billy uses the leverage to flip the both of you over and he’s straddling your waist, holding the book over his head when you reach towards it.

“Historical filth,” he counters, cheeks a little flush from the shuffle of your bodies but that grin permanently smeared on his face.

“Billy,” you whine, “Give it here. It’s embarrassing…”

As you raise your hands to grab it again, Billy grabs your wrists with his right hand and holds them down against your chest. Your whole body feels tight with humiliation and you choke back the tears forming in your eyes. God, you could be such a baby sometimes.

That’s why Billy liked you, though. You acted like such a good girl all the time, he was relieved to find the raunchy book because it let him know that deep down, you were a little vixen and his attempts to draw it out of you had been mostly failures. You two had already slept together, just one time and whenever it came to fooling around, you were so shy.

“This thing is worn,” he comments, looking over the novel in his hand, “How many times have you read it?”

“None of your beeswax,” you huff, “Give it here, Billy. Seriously!”

As you plead, you squirm under his grip, trying to get your arms free so you can rip the book from his hand and maybe destroy it. You haven’t decided, you’re so incredibly embarrassed but it is one of your favorites.

Billy tilts his head ever so slightly, “Should I read some of it to you?”

“No!” you shriek, eyes widening up at him but a part of you is very intrigued. Billy’s voice is like honey, the timbre of it is deliciously low like it comes deep from his throat. You’re suddenly very interested in hearing him read it out loud but you’re still full of shame that he’s found the book. Your hiding place wasn’t very good but enough that your parents or siblings hadn’t found it. Of course, Billy is far snoopier than they are and you should’ve anticipated that when you went to pee, he would be going through your things.

Billy places the book down and moves your wrists to your sides, adjusting his legs so he can pin your arms underneath them. He smiles at you, retrieving the book again and flipping to the first page he’s dog-eared.

“Ya know, there’s a lot of like, bullshit in this book,” he muses, “They don’t even fuck until like almost the end of the book. And then after that it’s like more blah blah blah—“

“It’s called plot,” you argue, voice shakier than you meant for.

The blonde snorts, peering down at you, “I can get you some magazines, ya know? You don’t have to do any reading to get to the good part.”

“I don’t read it for the…” you can’t bring yourself to say the word.

“The filth? Really?” he hums, “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” you lie, wriggling beneath him.

Billy licks his lips, “Let’s see… oh, here’s where it starts getting good; ‘His hand goes somewhere unexpected. Lydia’s eyes widen as the duke’s warm, strong hand smoothes up her milky, white thighs.’.”

“Billy,” you warn, eyebrows knitting closer. It’s as sexy as you imagined but you didn’t entirely anticipate Billy would be so good at reading aloud, it’s almost like he’s practiced with it. He doesn’t stumble over any of the words like you do when you have to read aloud in class.

“Shh,” he shushes you around a smug smirk, “‘Her liquid desire seeps out as he ruffles her petticoat up to her waistline,’ Liquid desire. I like that. Clever way to say she’s wet.”

“Stop!” you protest but the words are purging your own ‘liquid desire’ and you’d rather Billy not have the satisfaction.

“Spicy stuff here. But then the dude only fingers her,” Billy complains with a disappointed frown and flips to the second page he’s dog-eared. “Ah, here we go, I really love this line: ‘Lydia writhes against Arthur but her body freezes as she feels his hardened cock pressed against her stomach.’” He lets out a short laugh, “They actually wrote cock. That’s hilarious.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What word would you use?”

“Cock, definitely, but it’s not a classy word. I thought they’d say like penis or something,” he retorts, biting his lip as he looks to your flushed face.

“Penis isn’t a sexy word,” you argue and feel yourself squirm against him, not because you want him to stop but you want to keep him under the impression you do.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Billy agrees and then asks, “Cock turns you on, though?”

Billy’s sorely mistaken if he thinks you’ll admit to that, no matter how true it is. You shoot him an annoyed look and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He always does that so loud, you’re left impressed each time. You’d tried to do it as loud as he does on nights when you’re bored and alone but it’s never quite as good.

“Lemme see…” his eyes scan the worn pages, “Ooh, this I like: ‘She gyrated the softest part of her against the hardest of him.’”

You also liked that line, it made you think of Billy every time you read it.

“Also, do these chicks ever write about small dicks? They’ve mentioned how huge this duke is like twelve times,” he wonders aloud, lifting the book so he can look down at you.

“Sympathetic?” you bite back, wanting to tease Billy for how he’s teasing you.

“Oh, honey,” he chuckles, “you and I both know damn well I ain’t small.”

“Then they’re representing you,” you point out with a wavering smile.

Billy tsks, and then lets out a giggle, thumbing through the pages again. As he finds a particularly dirty passage and begins reading it, you can see his pants tightening over his crotch. You raise an eyebrow, flicking your eyes back up to his face but Billy is too distracted by the words he’s reading to notice.

“Well, well, well,” you say in a teasing tone.

He averts his eyes, seeing that his hard-on is pretty damn obvious in his jeans and you’ve got the perfect view of it. He actually blushes, the reddening hiding his freckles and he closes the book, tossing it behind him as he gazes down at you with his nose scrunched up.

“What?”

“You seem to like it, Billy,” you purr, not trying to suppress the giggle rising from your throat.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, scooting back and releasing your arms. They’ve kind of gone numb from the position under his legs but you don’t mind, you enjoyed every second of it. “If I reach in your pants, you’re gonna be just as obnoxiously turned on.”

“I’m the one who owns the book, Billy,” you challenge with a pleased smirk.

“So you admit it then, you read it for the filth,” he quips.

“I’ll admit that if you admit it gave you a boner.”

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” he mumbles, positioning himself between your legs and hooking his fingers into the elastic band of your sweats. He pulls them down and you lift your legs to help expel them. Billy tosses them to the floor and spreads your thighs, biting his lip as he brushes his knuckles against your clothed heat. A raspy moan is ripped from you, back arching as his knuckle brushes against your aching clit.

“Oh, Billy…”

“I can just see that ‘liquid desire’ soaking through your panties,” he muses, voice rough but the term brings a laugh from the both of you. It also makes you that much wetter.

“Oh my god,” you mutter through the laugh, “You’re never gonna let that go.”

Billy hums, pushing his nose against where his knuckles just were, “Don’t think you really want me to.” His breath tickles the skin where your thigh meets your pelvis and you inhale sharply. Your thighs tingle, heat rising up them and it’s almost overwhelming. Then you feel Billy’s stubble against the flesh of your thigh and his teeth follow, biting at your skin lightly. Your body jolts at the touch and your thighs open even wider, urging Billy to return his movements to where you want him most. His lips curl up as he rests his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes peering up at you. His pupils are so dilated, you can barely see the ocean blue around them.

“I want you,” he admits, smoothing his palm over your core and resting his fingertips against your pubic bone.

The admission draws a deep moan from you because he looks so adorable between your legs but the palm on you and the words make you desire him so deeply it almost hurts. Billy wants you. The idea itself makes your thighs tremble and your hands shoot down to rake your fingers through his dirty blonde curls.

“You have me,” you breathe but wonder how you look at his perspective and it forces you to prop yourself up on your elbows, wanting to look as pretty for him as possible.

“Can I have you?” he asks, pushing his palm harder against your center.

“Yes, Billy,” you pant out.

He sits back up, peeling your underwear off of you and then settling back down between your legs. He kisses tenderly at your thighs, brushing the tip of his finger against your dripping hole. The noise that pushes from your lips is desperate yet a thankful noise, you’ve been wanting Billy to touch you like this since he straddled you earlier. He makes a surprised but happy sound in return, swiping his tongue against your labia experimentally. The warm, wetness of it is welcomed while it’s not distinctly pleasurable, it feels really nice. His single digit penetrates you slowly while he continues to lick your pussy lips. It’s excruciating, but you know he’s doing it with purpose. The first time Billy had touched you intimately, he done the same. Teasing you with touches that were close to where you wanted but not quite there. You’d come to learn that Billy wanted you to plead and beg for him. Which you weren’t exactly confident doing yet. You still felt reserved and a little shame in asking for what you wanted. That’s presumably what got your boyfriend off: pushing you out of your comfort zone and breaking down those societal expectations.

“Billy,” you whine out, tugging at his curls.

“What?” he asks like he knows exactly what you want, a smile present in his voice.

You flush, you weren’t going to get the relief unless you explicitly requested it. You knew this and it makes your throat tighten and your mouth feel dry, tongue heavy in your mouth. You chew on your lower lip as you muster up the courage to put your desire into words.

“Not enough,” you whisper, timidly, “I want more.”

“More?” he pouts up at you, “Tell me what more means.”

“Lick…” you flush, closing your eyes as you try to gain the confidence.

“Lick what?”

“My pussy,” you breathe out, pulling his hair gently.

“I am,” he smirks, “You want me to lick here?” He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit and your head falls back against the mattress,

“Yes!”

He hums and then flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud, the fingers of his left hand digging into your thigh. It’s warm and oh so wonderful as he puts his mouth entirely on you, licking through your folds before focusing on your clit and lapping against it, nose brushing against the curls above your center. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. The two of you are completely alone for at least another few hours but you’re accustomed to keeping quiet, trying to keep your pants and moans of pleasure at a reasonable volume. Billy’s tongue proves to make it difficult. It’s just as fit as the rest of his body.

“Lemme,” he grunts as he pulls away, pushing your top up your chest and he exhales when your chest is exposed. You’d intentionally skipped putting your bra on today, knowing Billy was coming over. He palms at your breasts, squeezing gently as he moves up to suck hour nipple into his mouth. It feels amazing, not nearly as great as his mouth on your pussy but this is a little more intimate. You can see him better up here, how pink and plump his lips are and the way his eyelashes curl. Billy is single handedly the most attractive person you’ve laid eyes on and here he is, mouthing at your chest.

“Baby…” you whimper as he adds a second finger inside of you.

It’s all a little overwhelming but feels too damn good to stop. You’re in too deep, you’d follow Billy like a lamb to slaughter. As his fingers curl up and drag against your spongy spot, you cry out. You don’t know how much more you can take, suddenly desperate to feel his cock filling you up and stretching you out in the most beautiful way. It’ll be your second time of what you hope to be a life full of.

“Want—“ you gasp, grabbing onto his sleeve. “Want you so bad, Billy.”

He smirks up at you before sitting back on his heels. He pulls his Henley over his head and placing it next to your body. You reach out and feel the contours of his muscular pecs, brushing the pads of your fingertips against his stiff nipple. He’s like one of those Greek statues, sculpted beautifully but unlike the marble, his skin is so soft. He bites the side of his lower lip as he smiles, his eyes squinting with the expression. He’s so damn beautiful, your heart swells.

“You’re…” the compliment dies on your tongue as you suddenly feel demure.

“I’m what?” he breathes, anticipation present in his drawl.

“Everything,” you admit, bashfully.

You think you see him blush, you can’t be sure because Billy’s leaning down to kiss you. It’s a dizzying kiss, you rock your hips up with it as he pulls desire out of you. You meant it, he’s everything to you, everything for you. He’s it for you and if he’s not, there’s gonna be a helluva heartbreak. No one has been so easy to be around. Billy’s like your best friend, he makes you laugh and cry and cum. What the hell else do you ever need besides this man above you?

“Fuck,” he curses, hand on your shoulder as he pulls away, “My dicks so fucking hard it hurts.”

The complaint is nothing but a masked compliment. You widen your legs, moving your hands down to his hips so you can grind up against his clothed erection. “Need you,” you inform him breathlessly.

“You have me,” he smirks, smoothing his thumb against your cheekbone. “Can I fuck you?”

You know he asks because it’s only the second time it’s happening, or could be. You decided long ago that you wanted it, but he doesn’t know that.

“Need you to,” you counter, the walls breaking down slowly. Billy is good at urging the desperation out of you. You're sure he could persuade you into murder, or something nearly as awful.

Billy grunts, pulling away long enough to rid himself of his jeans and boxers. His cock sprouts up and slaps against his abs, angrily hard and you notice his tip is leaking more than you’ve seen before. Your mouth waters at the sight but you’re too eager to blow him. You’re clenching simply at the sight and promise of him burying his cock inside your fluttering cunt. Billy crashes his lips against yours, the shaft of his cock rubs against your soaking pussy and it draws a mutual groan from the two of you. Perhaps you can write a letter to the author of the novel, express your gratitude for it being the source of this very charged moment between you and your stunning boyfriend. You even consider writing your own spicy story about him, he’s damn good inspiration. If you ever write a memoir, you hope and pray that Billy is a lasting role in it.

“Billy,” you plead against his bruising lips.

He grabs your jaw with his left hand while he grabs a hold of his cock with his right, hissing as he runs his tip through your folds. Your body shakes under his touch, hips rocking up ruthlessly from the electricity his movements bring. The romance you read is exciting but can’t compare to his in any way. You’d much rather have him in your bed every night instead of reading until you can’t handle it and hump against your pillow in search of relief. This is tenfold better.

“That feel good?” he inquires, voice hoarse. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He says the last bit like he can’t believe it and you reel from it, reveling in the fact that you can turn Billy on just by reacting to him naturally. The carnal desire in you evaporates every wall you’ve ever built up. There’s no shame left in you as you tell him, “S’all cause of you…”

“Yeah? Am I better than the book?” he asks, circling his tip against the rim of your aching entrance.

“Picture you when I’m reading it,” you pant out the confession, eyes falling shut as his hips jerk forward from your words, his tip penetrating you in an easy, fluid motion.

“Touch yourself at the thought of me?” his voice is so hoarse and the sound of it has you clenching around him. He obviously notices it but the whine that pushes passed his lips.

“Always…”

“Fuck,” he exhales, slipping deeper inside your tight cunt. His girth is a shock, but a good one. It’s only the second time. Your fingers and also his, don’t compare. But you’re thoroughly aroused and you swallow his length easily. The burn is dull and adds to the pleasure. He continues, “That’s so fucking hot.”

His face in contorted in concentration and arousal, “The thought of you fingering this tight pussy—“ he grunts, “Thinking about me fucking you.”

“This is better,” you moan, grabbing onto his bicep as he bottoms out, balls warm against your skin.

“I think about you too,” he says between clenched teeth, “When I jerk off…”

It makes your head feel heavy, you’re totally honored. The image of Billy in his bed, pulling at his cock while your name tumbles from his lips makes your hips rock forward repeatedly. He makes a whiny noise and your eyes open, wanting to see it happen again. He’s a goddamn vision, sweating above you with curls sticking to his forehead. Goddamn, he’s so intoxicatingly sexy. Sometimes you get this overwhelming urge to grab onto his face and you indulge in it now, hands pressed against his each side of his head while he pounds into you. His eyes are intense as he stares back at you, these delicious little grunts and moans leaving his lips. The room is spinning, Billy’s eyes are so consuming it feels like he’s devouring you. You’re entranced, bodies writhing against each other while you both chase a high only the other can guarantee.

“Billy—“ you choke out, “I’m.. I’m gonna…”

You can’t finish the thought as he drills into you, his hands grabbing your hips and angling them up so he drives against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Cum?” he offers, voice throaty and hoarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl?”

“Ahh…” you try to tell him yes but the waves of the orgasm make it impossible as it thrashes through you, your ankles crossing behind his back as he pounds into you.

The pistons of his hips are unrelenting, you’d be impressed with his stamina if you weren’t being dragged through the most demanding orgasm you’ve ever had. You’re loud, the sound of your voice is foreign, rough and guttural. Billy seems to like it, his eyebrows rising before furrowing as he pins your hips against the mattress and bucks into you brutally. His face is scrunched up and these high pitched, pretty and desperate noises he makes are so wonderfully delicious. His movements freeze and you feel his warm completion fill you up.

“Billy…” you moan at the sensation, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt and he collapses on top of you, a panting mess as his lips find yours. The kisses are frantic and sloppy. You’re not even certain they could classify as kisses. Then his eyes are wide and he’s lifting himself up.

“Fuck, oh shit,” his voice is full of panic, “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

You’re close to passing out, but you manage to ask, “For what?”

“I came inside you,” he explains, eyes wide.

“Mhm… felt so good,” you mumble, not able to care about his terror in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I didn’t mean to… fuck,” he breathes against your cheek, “Gonna have to.. get a plan B.”

“Billy,” you sigh happily as you wrap your arms around him, “Mmm… feels so good.”

He relaxes at the realization that you’re not pissed at him and for a second, he lets himself revels in the fact that he’s just cum inside you and how amazing it felt. He gasps softly, “So good…”

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader

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chaos-in-deepspace · 3 months

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L&DS Boys: Suspected Smut | 18+

Eeeeeeey my first written request for this blog homies! The request was asking for a scenario with the boys where they walk in on the reader either reading or writing a smutty novel that's based off their myths. Also make it crack. So here we go. I'm going to post a small, separate one later that has a Zayne attempt (had to write his twice) since I managed to make it slightly angsty somehow and it was such a stark contrast when read with the other two boys.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Erotica Novels, Teasing, Crack Treated Seriously, Suggestive Scenarios, Mentions of Monster Fucking, Dark Romance Mentions, Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Xavier x Reader

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Xavier

“What are you reading?” The voice made you scream as you slammed the book you had out shut. Your heart racing as you turned to Xavier in shock. He seemed just as surprised as you, his eyes now wide as though he had been the one caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Words.” You said with a shrug. Now Xavier was curious, trying to see what you were reading. You hid the book behind your back and cleared your throat, “Seriously, it’s nothing important.” You tried convincing him.

He stared at you for a minute longer, then his posture relaxed. “If you really don’t wish to tell me, I won’t pressure you.” Xavier looked away dejectedly and oh goodness does it make you feel bad when you see him like that. Those pouty little eyes of his made your heart beat without fail, and they were now trained on the floor as he was prepared to leave you alone.

You let out the longest, most annoyed groan as you took the book out again. Xavier perked up, looking to see what it was. He read the title “A Luminous Lover”, his face was confused as he flipped it around to read the description. As his eyes skimmed the back recognition seemed to finally cross him.

Xavier turned to you, “Are you reading a romance novel involving Lumiere?” He said and you sighed, glad that the back of the book didn’t have anything too explicit on it.

You sucked in your lips and nodded your head, “Ya, ya I am.” Your voice cracked a bit as you said this. Xavier seemed to be perplexed, his eyes shining in confusion and hurt. You then watched in horror as he opened the book up to read a bit.

He opened it to a random page, however with the contents of the book you just knew there was a 50/50 chance he’d see it. With how his eyes widened and mouth opened slightly, you knew he had found a scene, “You’re reading an…erotic novel about Lumiere.” He corrected himself.

You let out another groan, “Fuck, fine, yes I am.” You said, going to grab the book, “You can’t blame me for wanting to be railed by Lumiere on a rooftop while he tells me how I’m being so good for him and absolutely destroying me until all I can do it moan is name several times and cry while looking at the stars because it feels so good!” You said all in one breath, panting at the end of your long sentence.

Xavier stood shocked for a moment before smirking, “Then why read a book about it?” He asked, his eyebrow going up as he looked down at you, “You have something better at home, there’s no need to read this.”

You whined a bit, “But consider some of these things are downright impossible or…not plausible I should say. Things that can only happen or are acceptable in a novel like this.” You tried explaining. You managed to finally snatch the book from him and held it to your chest.

“We won’t know if it’s impossible until we try.” Xavier said, his hand ghosting over your waist now.

“You gonna put on the Lumiere costume?” You finally asked and he seemed to be almost offended.

“You'd rather be in Lumiere’s bed?” He asked, looking away.

“Xavier, you adorable dork, you are Lumiere.” You huffed, “And it’s called roleplaying. You’d be playing the role of Lumiere, and I’d be playing the role of a whore who worships your dick. Sound good?”

Xavier took a moment and just shook his head, “You truly are something else, starlight.” He said as he pulled you closer, “I won’t put on the costume, however if you’d like to be railed on a rooftop while staring up at the stars, I’d be more than happy to make that fantasy come true.” He said, leaning closer to you. You let out a small whimper as his mouth pressed a kiss against your neck.

“Fine…but later tonight. I wanna finish this chapter.” You said and Xavier huffed. He grabbed the book out of your hand and you watched in horror as he tossed it.

“No, perhaps I should give you a preview of tonight. It’ll be far more enjoyable than a book.” Xavier grumbled. Oh you adored this man, even if he did get jealous of himself in book form.

Zayne

“Might I ask what you’re writing, my beloved?” You paused for a moment at hearing his words, your head slowly turning to him. Your laptop was on the bed while you sprawled out, typing away like you didn’t have a care in the world. Your now wide eyes stared at your boyfriend, who had clearly been reading what was on your screen.

“Well…you see.” You started before realizing something, “Okay ya I have no defense for this. You’re not allowed to judge me though. You love me.” You pointed at him sternly then looked back at your writing. You went to close your laptop, but Zayne’s hand prevented that.

“You never answered my question.” He said and you groaned, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. You looked at him with a small pout, hoping he would give up questioning you. It didn’t work this time as he waited for an explanation.

You let out an annoyed groan, “Okay so like…I had an idea about a serial killer, but like he’s a good guy who dresses in all black and like kills for a good cause. And uuuuuh…” You said, thinking about what had initially sparked this. You had seen a yandere in a show and you had thought ‘But what if Zayne?’ which led to you writing this. The main character was based on Zayne, clearly. Hopefully he didn’t catch onto that though.

“And all that led to…this scene on your screen?” Zayne said, motioning to your writing. Honestly you hadn’t even gotten to the steamiest part yet. You had only started your debauched writing.

“Okay maybe I wanna get railed by a man who’s a lil scary and not very expressive but also will kill if someone looks at me wrong. It’s just a fantasy. If it were real life no way in hell would this be fine, but the thought of a hot man breaking into my window and then fucking me into the mattress is just so…sexy…” You trailed off from your rambles, looking at Zayne then to the floor.

Your dear boyfriend, in his defense, managed to recover from your small confession pretty fast as he looked at you. “That’s truly what goes through your head?” He finally asked and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“I mean…sometimes…” You finally said. You noticed there was a conflicted look in Zayne’s eyes, almost like he was realizing something in the deep recess of his mind. He just shook his head, shoving whatever thoughts or memories he had as he approached you.

“And this type of situation, you’d only ever want it in a fantasy setting, correct?” He asks, as though making sure there was some semblance of sanity left in you.

“Obviously. If someone actually broke through my window I’m waking you up to deal with them.” You said, crossing your arms. You could see the small, subtle twitch of a smile on Zayne’s face.

“Even if in the fantasy I’m the one breaking through the window?” He asked and you paused. You looked at him suspiciously.

“Why would you think it was…you I was writing about?” You murmured. Zayne walked over to you, pinning you in place by putting his hands on either side of your thighs as he leaned in.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that you named the male lead after me. I can see my name on your screen.” He paused, “Along with other things.” He said and you didn’t know if you should feel bashful or turned on at the moment…perhaps both.

“Well,” You cleared your throat, “since you know.” another quick pause as you fluttered your eyelashes, “Hey Zayne, I’m having some trouble writing this scene.” You said, trying to give him a cutesy expression.

“And?” He murmured, getting closer to you.

“Think you could give me a helping hand at…testing out a few positions and kinks to see if they’d work. For inspiration of course.” You said, your hands trailing his shirt until they got to his tie. You played with it as you looked at him with needy eyes.

“Thought you said they were only good for fantasies, why would you want to play out a scene?” He teased and you chuckled.

“Well sir, perhaps some things don’t have to remain a fantasy.” You said, tilting your head. You gasped as you felt Zayne’s lips on yours, pressing closer but before he could leave you breathless, Zayne parted.

“I do apologize, I have something important I need to do.” He said and you huffed, feeling like you got doused in cold water suddenly. There was always something.

“What do you need to do?” You bitterly said, pouting at you gave him a half assed glare.

“I need to call a psychologist for you, snowflake.”

You paused, gathering your thoughts but there were none, “Um why?”

“Because I’m fairly certain you need help psychologically. You realize you shouldn’t be placing guns-” You cut Zayne off by covering his mouth.

“I hate you…” You muttered. You felt his lips kissing the palm of your hand with amusement swimming behind those hazel eyes.

“And I adore you…most of the time.”

Rafayel

You almost screamed when you felt cool, wet lips kissing the back of your neck. You clutched your phone to your chest, your cheeks warm as you looked behind you to see Rafayel. He was smirking, looking you over; he was clearly proud at having startled you.

“Raf…” You warned, but the man in question just threw his hands up in mock surrender.

“I do apologize, my dear bodyguard, but I feel like you shouldn’t be so distracted when you have a job to do. If I was able to sneak up on you, imagine what could happen to me.” He said, placing a hand over his chest.

“Rafayel, we are in your art studio. In the middle of the day, no less.” You point out, “I think you’re safe.”

“You never know, what if someone breaks in and kidnaps me while your nose is in your phone?” He was pouting as he then looked at said object being clutched to your chest, “What ended up distracting you? It wouldn’t be anything naughty, now would it? The blush on your cheeks are telling.” Now he was just teasing you.

“It’s important stuff…research if you will.” You said and now he seemed even more intrigued.

“What are you researching?” He asked and you bit back a blush, willing your body and the gods to help it go away.

“Stuff.” You murmured. This wasn’t doing it for Rafayel as he looked down at you with a frown.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you were up to no good.” He said, leaning closer to you, “The only way to prove your innocence is to tell me, my pearl.”

You let out a groan and averted your eyes; you didn’t want this man to see the guilty admission in them. After all, your fish boy was right. You were up to no good, reading ‘naughty things’ as he so eloquently put it. Apparently you were silent for a moment too long though, because you felt his hands trailing up your sides and under your shirt.

Before you could ask him what he was doing, he pinched your hips hard. You let out a yelp, and at the moment the grip on your phone loosened enough for Rafayel to steal it from you. When you saw it, you flushed and tried to swipe it back, “Rafayel, you bastard man, give that back!” You hissed.

Sadly the man knew your password and he was soon looking at exactly what you were reading. A small story about a sea god…that happened to be extremely explicit with some monster elements to it. Rafayel’s face went from curiosity to burning red in an instant.

“You were reading naughty things!” He accused; you let out a groan, trying again to swipe your phone back. He wasn’t done though as he continued, “Wait…is that even possible? And he only has one? Now this certainly isn’t lore accurate.” He teased with a large, toothy grin.

“Rafayel, stop teasing me. Am I not mortified enough?” You said before pausing, “Wait…what do you mean he only has one?” You said and Rafayel seemed to realize his mistake. His eyes widened and he sucked in his lips for a moment as he tried to think of a way out of this.

“Raffie, do you have two dicks in your other form?” You said, your eyes twinkling. You guys hadn’t slept together while he was like that since it was such a rare treat for you to even view his other form. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Wait, you’re into that?” Rafayel finally asked after realizing what you said.

“Babes, if I knew I could be a double stuffed oreo with you, I would’ve been begging you to take me in your fish form more so than I already do.” You said, not bothering to stop your language. Rafayel choked on air at your confession and tried to regain himself.

“Double stuffed oreo?” He echoed, “I don’t think I have ever heard someone say that in such an unsexy way.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, it absolutely isn’t…wait, so were you researching…” He began but you were already willing to give him an answer.

“Wanted to figure out what positions might work best, so I was researching. Plus the male lead described in this book sounds like you so it was pretty easy to put myself in the place of the main character…which by the way do you think you could fuck me in the ocean while doing the little mermaid rock pose and calling me a-”

“That’s enough.” He said, and noticed you attempted to speak once more, “Ah ah ah.” He chided, “Not. A. Single.” He leaned closer, “Word.”

To which you replied with a moan.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! It's dumb and fun! I enjoyed writing it (tbh I've been wanting to write it but gah so many things to write, so little time)

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seraphdreams · 1 year

Text

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"TO SEE WHAT YOUR INSIDES LOOK LIKE." | GHOSTFACE!ARMIN ARLERT.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.6k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, smut, modern au, mentions of murder / death / blood, fingering, armin’s a creep, symbolism, noncon/dubcon, insanity, manipulation, monomania, creampie, knives, stalking. mdni <3.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. armin’s worked hard to build up his perfect life, and he certainly wasn’t expecting for someone to rip that from under him. he’s obsessed — with a life that isn’t his.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! we are sooo back n in full swing for kinktober this year !! i’ll drop my masterlist here for all the prettie dolls to check out … please show this some love by reblogging / sharing, it’ll mean the absolute world 2 me !! kk, luv ya, bye ♡

Armin Arlert. Age 23. Graduated from Shiganshina University.

Armin Arlert, starting his new life under a freshly installed roof that rivaled his dorm of the past four years and provided him with much needed privacy. Armin Arlert, with a degree in humanitarian affairs accompanied with a promising future ahead, it’s the life he deserved after the turbulent destruction that was his tragic past. He could start over now in high hopes of making a name for himself in this unfamiliar city. Nothing could stop him, or the unperturbed spout of elation percolating within.

Aside from optimism, though, he remained undoubtedly sure that the life he had curated for himself was one that no other could outclass. He was smart — spent his days in libraries, in his study room, reading about anything that satiated his appetite for enlightenment, and be that as it may, he wasn’t looking for a lover. His solace brought him far better pleasure than any person could possibly imagine.

He’d work, research, and then work some more, day in and day out. And the day of your meeting was no different.

He had decided to utilize the time he carved out of his restless schedule for a much needed re-read of his favorite book. Moments like these were significant to Armin; the pungent aroma of freshly brewed tea in his mug, luminescence dim in the apartment, and a faint timbre of violins that spilled from his speaker.

Moments like these were when he couldn’t keep track of how many hours had passed him by as he flipped page by page into whatever universe his books had drawn him into.

Rested against the kitchen counter with his novel in one hand and retrieving a sip from his beverage in the other, his eyes scanned the piece of literature. Every once and awhile, he’d shift his weight from his left hip to the right, or opt to sit on the cozy loveseat in his study. All without withdrawing his attention from his book.

Glasses low on the bridge of his nose, he gently pushed them up — Then it came. The sonority of his doorbell, jostling him out of his serene thoughts and the inquisitiveness that flowed through his veins soon after, urged his body to tread to the front door in search of the cause.

As his footfall led him closer to the handle of the door, he could make out a silhouette, seemingly of a woman. All inquisitions of who could be at his doorstep were fulfilled once he opened it and you stood, with a bright smile on your face.

Armin’s angelic features hidden underneath a veil of golden blond tresses accentuated his soft, azure-hued eyes. His face was one of few that aided you in comfort just upon first glance, which chased away the unease of the possibility that he could’ve been ill-tempered.

“Hi, I’m Y/N! I moved in next door,” You pointed your thumb in the direction beside you as if to signal which side of the building you’d be occupying. “I just thought I'd introduce myself,”

He matched your syrupy sweet beam with one of his own, the corners of his eyes turning upward in tandem as if they were smiling too. He held the door open slightly wider to catch a better glimpse of you. From your attire, he could discern that you weren’t much of a modest girl, but it’d be wrong of him to idly make assumptions. Especially when his choice of dress during the lax hours of the day were a white button-up, cashmere cardigan thrown atop, with a pair of tan slacks.

“Y/N?” He repeated, in a manner to affirm that he had heard correctly. “I’m Armin. It’s nice to meet you,”

He would’ve held his hand out for yours had it not been engaged by his book. You weren’t trying to pry, yet the cover of the story was lucid in your mind once you took notice. “Berenice? The Edgar Allan Poe novel?”

His eyes trailed to where your manicured nail was pointed. The rosy flush of his cheeks deepened while he rubbed away the discomfiture stirring at the back of his neck. Once again, he had mindlessly brought his book with him wherever he strode.

“Y-Yeah, It’s my favorite. Have you read it?”

“A few times,” You hummed, meeting his sheepish gaze. “It’s so jarring, right?”

Armin skimmed over your face before allowing himself to speak. “But there’s beauty in the madness,” His words trolled over in a more weighty tone than he had intended, an apologetic smile on his face once he caught wind.

“Or at least that’s how i interpret it,”

His outward timidity roused an endearing chuckle from you. “I truly don’t mean to bother you, though. If you need anything I'm on your right!” You retort with a vague inclination of haste.

Truth be told, Armin’s interest in you piqued with the mention of the Poe story. “Oh, you’re not a bother-”

His vocables fell short against your own when you waved him goodbye, and he mirrored your actions with cordiality in his eyes.

Maybe she’s just busy.

—

Ever since Armin’s first encounter with you, he had found himself taking a rather atypical interest in the relations of you. The first bout of instances being regular events of curiosity where he’d watch as the moving company aided you in getting your belongings settled; hauling in furniture and appliances, all while Armin remained under the guise of checking his mailbox. Over a short span of time, though, he found himself increasingly knowledgeable in the subject that was you.

You showered at 8:00pm. You ate dinner at 7:00pm. The alarm settled on your desk, a few feet beyond your bed would go off at 6:00am sharp, and he’d be up at that same dawning hour to anticipate your departure to work.

He knew these things. Of course, he did.

He memorized all of your schedules to calculate what you’d be doing throughout the day, and where.

His own work was slow for him during those days, and books didn’t seem to capture that spark of exhilaration like you did. For once, he felt enthralled by each day granting him an opportunity to analyze you further.

On another day, he’d built up enough confidence to observe you as you came home from work, once more, under the false assumption that he’d been checking his mail.

“Good afternoon.”

Armin’s voice registered within your being quickly, startling you out of your fast-paced strut to your door. “Oh, good afternoon!” Your footfall faltered until you reached a close. “Armin, was it?”

Over Armin’s time of stalking- no, studying you, he’d come to realize just how ethereal you were. It was as if the deities above handmade every feature on your face, curve of your body, lilt in your voice with the intention of making you one of their own — an angel.

He found you charming.

With a nod of his head, he braced himself to inch toward you. Not proximal enough to cause you discomfort, he wouldn’t want that, yet enough to signal his unwavering immersion. “Did you just come from work?”

It was otiose of him to ask the question seeing as he undeniably knew the answer. Judging from your business attire and pencil skirt just a little too short for any other establishment’s dress standards, he had assumed you worked a kushy job at an office firm. You evidently earned a heap of money, with him recalling the numerous occasions you’d come home with luxury shopping bags hanging off your arms, tied in with the fact that the suites he inhabited weren't exactly affordable for the average person.

You responded hospitably to his question, that same lovely smile poured over your features and seeping into his personage. “Mhm, and what about you? Your work?”

He was surprised at your need to pull the conversation along further, it was as if you were succoring to curate his plans, as if you could read his mind and pick out from a haystack that you were his only interest, you were his source of bliss. A serendipitous moment, indeed. He straightened himself up, clearing his throat. “Me? Oh, well I just help out at charities and organizations from time to time,”

He’d be a fool to deny the set of wide eyes that were fixated upon his figure.

“For real? You must be a really good person then.” You responded with your hands clasped together and held against your chest, pupils of your eyes glittered in a sense of unshakable admiration.

As the conversation went on, you had begun to synonimize your neighbor with the fresh, and comforting feeling of congeniality. It helped that he was easy to converse with, seeming as he’d always been listening while keeping eye contact and rewiring his queries in a way that deemed you the main focus, and he, a vessel for your words to absorb within.

For Armin, he enjoyed getting to know you. You were perfect, in all the best ways.

And soon enough, through an exhausting series of prying inquiries, he’d piece together that your perfection wasn’t hulled along by determination or strong will, but by God’s good grace. He’d come to register that you didn’t have to struggle like he did to reach the triumphant point in life for which he stood. You were born that way, born with a silver spoon in your mouth and just the right kiss-ass people in your life to keep you that way. A spoiled fucking brat.

What had been the rationale behind his suffering? The years in which he’d been bullied repeatedly in public schools, had acquaintances that had only cared about him for their personal gain, and parents so utterly vapid that they’d give up their only child if it meant they could continue working towards an unattainable goal?

Fueled by a sense of jealousy, he waned your nepotism a hindrance. You were merely a telescope that he wanted so badly to see into.

For Armin was obsessed with a life that wasn’t his.

Meticulously, he had spent his time after that hidden away within his flat. Armin didn’t care to know anything more about you, he didn’t care to see your face, and he surely didn’t care for you.

When he stumbled across an unkempt, unpacked box in his room with the label of “Uni 2019,” written on the side in thick, inky letters, his concern led him to relive those memories upon removing the cardboard lid.

In it, there were polaroid photos, compact trophies he’d won from participating in school events, courtesy of his STEM minor, and a dark piece of fabric that caught his eye more than anything.

He recalled his first year of college where his two closest friends, Eren and Mikasa, dragged him out of their stuffy shared dorm and onto one of the first parties held by the school’s fraternity house during the fall semester.

“Armin, you look ridiculous,”

Mikasa said as she stomped away in her leather boots, leading the way for the two men accompanying her to follow her off-campus.

She was dressed in homage to Misa Amane from her favorite anime, although the style of dress aided no significance since it was hauntingly similar to her everyday wardrobe.

Eren was intended to show up as “Light” but he insisted on wearing something he deemed appealing, his plan was to get initiated by the end of the night, anyhow. He wore a deep black cloak, dark ripped jeans and had his hair tied aimlessly into his warped perception of a bun, with the mask of a ghost facing sideways on his head to allow for him to see.

Ghostface. Scream (1996).

Armin allowed himself to be pulled away by the Ackerman, his rebuttal falling on deaf ears. “You didn’t give me enough time, Mika. This is all I could come up with.” Armin’s poor excuse for a costume was tissue paper wrapped around his frame in stereotypical mummy fashion, a classic of all classics.

Though, that night had concluded like any other gathering involving college-aged students, the trio having woken up to hangovers and bad decisions.

Armin stared at the contents of the box a while longer before taking the cloak out and trying it on for size. Obviously, it was meant for a taller person, but regardless, the wheels in his head gradually spun.

He took it off after careful observation when the sensation of juvenility filled his veins. He wasn’t fond of the costume rousing the impression that he was an illegitimate killer — He knew more than he let on, and his passion for the grotesqueries scribed in his books further proved that.

Concurrently, you had been pondering the reason for Armin’s disappearance. After your last conversation with him, he’d stopped formulating ways to talk to you and seemed to never leave his suite, and your heart yearned for his presence once the feeling truly settled in.

You had been swayed by his charm.

His dulcet tone of voice, the intriguing quirks that seemed to hang off of him like leaves to a tree; You missed the way he cared for you, through mundane matters and the like.

Night had fallen, the warm, ochre hues of the day meshing in perfect balance with deep purple tones that signified time’s passing. You were settling into bed, just about ready to fall into slumber when you heard light tapping at your door.

Only for a second did the thought of who could possibly be up this late float through your mind.

Your soles kissed the floor when you made your way to the front door. And once you finally opened it, the sight of your worst fear was drawn to life — The deviant sight of the unknown, with what seemed to look like a kitchen knife in its right hand.

Quickly, without time to react, you attempted to slam the door shut with the force of your shoulder but the action proved futile when the aggressor’s strength pushed back against the wood, sending you stumbling backwards and vulnerable to any attack.

Heavy footsteps creeped eerily towards you out of something from a horror film. Your worst mistake was turning your back, scrambling for a way to retrieve your phone, or even a weapon.

“Help! He-”

The stranger was more agile than you had assumed, easily capturing you with one arm around your waist and its hand cupped against your mouth. You couldn’t shake the terror growing within you as hot tears seemed to spill down your cheeks and your heartbeat so intense, you were sure that it’d had been noticeable.

Your body soft in the assaulter’s touch, they embraced your body taut. The sensation was suffocating, your eyes squeezed shut to further distance yourself from the situation at hand, even if it was only a mental trick.

You resided in a relatively safe area, so why were you in this situation? What cruel joke were you the target of?

The grip on your body loosened ever so slightly, yet you were still fixed in place by the attacker’s opposite hand. While your body was immobilized, you felt the lingering of metal lightly drag against your abdomen to find itself settled just underneath the band of your lace pajamas.

Just moments prior, you had completed your elaborate nightly routine consisting of a glass of wine, face mask, and a warm bath. You also found it fitting to change into one of your newer pajama sets — Thin, baby pink, lace bralette with matching shorts that called for forgoing the need for panties.

All you wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.

“It’d be so beautiful if you died right here in my arms,” Your assailant spoke.

Through your ears, his voice was familiar. A tone so soft, you refused to believe the possibility of who it’s owner could be.

His hand over your mouth was hesitant to situate itself elsewhere in wariness of how you’d react. He was aware of the power behind a blood-curdling scream. The neighbors in this area were nosy. He would know.

He let out a sigh. “But you look really pretty tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blood on you,” His knife trailed further into your shorts, the edge cutting out a hole in the fabric at the seat of the garment.

“Did you do all this for me?”

You winced when the sonority of cloth ripping resonated through your ears. The blade felt dangerously close, running along your body as if to taunt you. That had to be the case; You were in the perfect position to be harmed, so why hadn’t your attacker done so? With your body stricken from fear, his job was easy. Was it not?

The hand over your mouth moved to caress your face and you gasped heavily for the air you were denied.

“W-What do you want?” Your voice echoed shakily throughout the room, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. His knife inched upward to your sternum, and slowly dragged itself back down to your abdomen as he spoke.

“To see what your insides look like.”

For a split second, his hold on you seemed to diminish, granting you the perfect opportunity to run. Yet, your legs felt frail as if there were weights tied to your ankles. The assailant quickly repositioned himself in front of you, his head tilting slightly while he continued his up and down ministrations with the edge of the blade gingerly pressed against your flesh. Not forceful enough to draw blood.

“But maybe now, I want to feel your insides,” His steps crept closer, and instinctively you tried to create as much distance as possible by stepping back. It proved useless when your back hit the cold surface of the door, his face mere centimeters from yours.

Your breath hitched as you found comfort in the presence of the door, leaning against it as if it’d keep you from harm’s reach. You fidgeted, fumbling to grasp at the handle that’d grant you escape. The masked man took notice, hovering over your frame to keep you from trying anything.

“Please- -” Your plea fell in the form of a choked up whimper, just the sound he wanted to hear.

More uncomfortable ripping was sounded when his blade etched a perfect cut in your shorts, leaving your bare cunt out on display for his eyes to see. “Don’t be shy, pretty. I’m sure lots of guys have seen you like this. Am I right?”

Crudeness started to sink in as your face morphed into a contradictory pout. He took your expression for a no and chuckled genuinely, albeit louder than his previous tone. “No? Does this make me the first?” His eyes scanned your lower half once more, then flit back to meet your fear-blown orbs.

“I’d really love to be your first,”

Having grown confident enough to be sure that you wouldn’t try to break free, he dropped the knife to the side, metal clamorously clinking against hardwood flooring while he used his free hand to lift your right leg over the juncture of his elbow. He carefully slotted his middle and ring fingers into your hole, shallowly pumping. Your legs threatened to close with what you couldn’t make of embarrassment or denial.

Your mind felt cloudy once your body gave up its immobility and allowed pleasure to course through your veins, heat rushing to your core with every pump of his fingers. He took notice of the way your expression hastily contorted into one of pure pleasure, eyebrows knit together and your mouth slightly agape, eliciting quiet moans to tumble past.

It was a whorish sight, indeed. A circumstance you couldn’t control with your death at the forefront, yet it was terrifyingly easy to succumb to the euphoric sensation building up within you. The pad of his thumb found its way to your aching clit, and from just the light circling motions in tandem with his fingers, you felt yourself floating to the cusp of release.

“F-Fuck- -“ you rasped. Your hand reached out for his wrist to push him away but the attempt was futile and in turn, he sped up his ministrations.

“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. You’re making me lose interest.” He coyly teased.

He was thankful you couldn’t see how flushed his face appeared under the mask. The sight of you spread open for him was too much to bear, he could cum in that moment without ever feeling your gummy walls wrapped around his painstakingly hard cock.

Just before you were about to hit your orgasm, he pulled his fingers away. An agitated groan rumbled from your throat, eyes finally opening to the sight of the man before you, removing his mask and unveiling his true identity.

Something within you didn’t want to admit what you had seen.

From the golden strands of hair that shimmered against the moonlight to his cyan-hued orbs tinted dark with madness. It was Armin, but it wasn’t Armin.

“M-Min.. You —“ The words failed to leave your mouth in a coherent string of sentences. It couldn’t have been your neighbor, not Armin. He was far too delicate, too feeble to carry out a task like this.

He kept unwavering eye contact with you, your pupils shaking from shock. “Hm? Couldn’t see a thing with this mask on,” His response was that of nonchalance, his hand coming to caress your tear-stained cheeks.

“You’re much prettier behind the mesh.”

He pulled down the zipper of his slacks along with the garment itself and his briefs, just enough so that his cock was freed. You didn’t want to look, but you did. You notice how bulbous the head was, glowing a bright pink while the rest of it was pretty girthy as well. It bobbed under its weight, the strings of precum leaking onto your inner thighs as he lined it up with your entrance.

“Why would y—“

Just before you could get the vocables out, he pushed his entire length inside of you, head tilted back and adam’s apple bouncing with each groan he let out. You felt as though you were being split open by how fat his cock was, how it glided effortlessly in and out of your heat.

His pace was tauntingly slow as if he’d shoot his load prematurely. Once he gradually thrusted more vigorously though, you found it hard to keep whimpers at bay. Each push in felt deeper than the last, the wind within your system struggling to keep you afloat. You reached for something to hold onto, scrambling for Armin’s shoulders in the end. Your nails dug deep at the lean muscles of his back, creating raw, catlike scratches on the flesh.

The pain was enough to make him smile. Or maybe it wasn’t the pain, but the sight of you so desperate for him — So desperate for your killer.

How pathetic.

He leaned himself upward to meet your gaze again, that of something from a horror movie, his gaze was darker than before, strung together by a serious expression. “Kiss me.”

You almost didn’t hear him as your impending orgasm was your only focus. When you took too long to respond, he glanced back at the knife settled just underneath his foot, in a manner to remind you of the real dangers he was capable of.

With the slightest inclination of hesitancy, your lips met his. Contrary to his actions, his kisses were soft, sloppy, and hungry, as if he were craving you. He hooked his arms beneath your knees to hoist you up and against him.

Deeper. You whimpered into his kisses wondering how his cock fucked into you deeper. He slammed your body down onto his length, using your body like it was a toy. You pulled away from the kiss, heaving for air as your head fell upon his shoulder. “Gonna cum, ‘m so close!” Your words slurred, and before you knew it, your essence came in waves, each aftershock more jolting than the last.

He continued pounding into you, shifting his position to hold you up against the wall. Your pleasure reverberated in the form of an inaudible cry while you allowed for the bullying of his cock in your cunt. It was evident to you that he was close from the way his features were etched in pure ecstasy.

Armin looked pretty like that — Wisps of tawny bangs messily splayed across his forehead from perspiration and a light tinge of scarlet dusted across his nose and cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. His soft, rosy lips were slickened with the mixture of your wet kiss and his.

“Oh, God-”

The guttural groan he let out had your walls clamping down taut around him. “Cum for me again—Shit! Say my name,”

The stamina he retained came as unexpected to you, your overstimulated heat trying to find pleasure in the way it’s being battered up. He spoke again, this time with a docile lilt in his tone.

“Tell me you’re mine, Y/N. I wanna be yours.”

You didn’t want to. You were beyond opposed to feeding into his hedonistic delusions, especially in the impuissant state that you were in. Yet, you couldn’t stop the affirmations from flowing once another orgasmic high coiled up in your core.

“Armin! ‘M yours! All yours,”

Just as soon as your words circulated through his mind, he felt his balls tighten, his thrusts faltering in potency as he reached closer to his high.

In his mind, it was profoundly amorous that you both had hit euphoria simultaneously, warm ropes of his sticky seed painting your walls while he shallowly jettisoned every last drop. Your womb was the goal, and he had scored.

He was tentative to pull out, wanting to relish in the warmth of your core for as long as he possibly could but he knew the idea wouldn’t be feasible. “You’re so good. I mean, you listen so well,”

He delicately placed you back on your feet, your body lax in his hold. “Thank you!” He beamed, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

“Thank you for what?” You responded, your eyes searching for anything else to focus on as you gained enough strength to separate yourself from him, even if it was just a few inches.

“You helped me,”

You couldn’t make sense of the nonsense coming out of his mouth nor his need to be a hair's breadth away from you at all times.

“You helped me realize I never wanted to hurt you,” His hands found their place at your waist, softly running along the curve. “I just wanted to be inside you.”

“No, you wanted to kill me.” You spoke in a more conflicted tone, wondering if the gears in his head were turning at all. He chuckled, creating a few inches of distance between the two of you.

“I mean, I did at first. I was jealous, Y/N,” His voice sounded like that of a beg. “You have such a perfect life and I want it — I want to be in it.”

You couldn’t bear to listen to anymore of his twisted thoughts, feeling the heavy coat of uncomfortability weighing your shoulders down. “Armin, you’re crazy.”

“I love you, Y/N. Let me into your life, please?”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hands furthering south until they halted at the small of your back.

“I won’t hurt you,”

“I love you.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @iamtrashgod @iconicbabii @inusdoll @kloesklarity @bakuhoe-3 @antistellxr

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clairdelunelove · 8 months

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itadori "pay more attention to me" yuuji

itadori “pay more attention to me” yuuji who insistently demands your undivided attention. the two of you were lounging in his dorm room– basking in the presence of each other, a rarity that desperately needed to be celebrated. a break from the mundane cycle of school, extracurriculars, and life. you’re curled up in his bed, flipping through a small novel while he’s scrolling through his phone. he’s not on any of his social media accounts, however. no, yuuji was spellbound by how informative having a phone could be. he’s never had one (didn’t have a reason to buy a phone) so when the academy placed it into his hands– he’s taken advantage of it for your benefit. his fingers persistently scroll through a website that’s titled ‘list of potential date spots that your significant other might like.’ nose upturned as he raises the screen closer to his face to read the small print. it’s cute and you notice how his voice rises in excitement. “look at this place,” yuuji’s mouth opens in awe as he continues reading straight from the article, “it’s a cafe that also has a gaming room in the back!” he tilts his phone so you’re able to view his screen but you’re snugly pressed against the plush, maroon pillows that are piled at the head of his bed. your eyes dart to what he’s showing you before going back to your book, “it looks fun, yuu. you always pick the best places.” immediately, his lips pull into a frown at your nonchalance and he presses his forearms against the side of the bed to lean closer to you.

he tries again, however.

“or there’s this hiking trail we can do,” he underlines it with his finger, “you know how you said you wanted to get out more? we could do this!” and he’s so precious. wide, beseeching eyes that inquisitively follow you to be aware of your likes/dislikes. you’re almost finished with your book though and the story’s resolution eases into the final moments with your favorite character. so you wave a hand at yuuji’s suggestion, “sounds good to me.” and it’s not how you’d typically react to his words. you’re generally keen about the topics he talks about, a warm glint in your gaze as he rambles about the latest movie he’s watched or how his science class is kicking his ass. he heaves. runs an exasperated hand down his face to maintain his composure. is compelled to sort this out. gritting his teeth, he shuts off his phone and tosses it on the carpeted floor.

then, he moves all at once. knee wedged beside you, yuuji’s strong arms are thrown around you as his face dips into the slot near your neck. his fingertips maneuver to press against the sliver of uncovered skin beneath your shirt. a delicate spot that manages to pull a gasp from your glossy lips when he touches you there. “yuu, what are you doing?” you mumble, all too aware of how the both of you are sprawled on his small dorm bed. surprisingly, he draws gentle patterns against the small strip of your bare skin when he hears your candied voice. he’s quick, precise, and uncannily quiet. before long, his lips are pressed against your jaw and his warm breath caresses your skin. he reaches out to close the book in your hand; made sure to bookmark and place it on his desk. this’ll take a while. “oh,” his dark brows drew together as he chuckled, “so now you wanna talk to me.” his voice borders a lighthearted taunt, a tone you would’ve scolded if he didn’t nip at the dip of your collarbones. feverishly, his lips find yours– the safe haven that he desperately chases. “pay more attention to me,” he murmurs into your mouth before tugging you closer to him, “will ya?”

#jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji fluff #itadori x y/n #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk x reader

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yoredoesmore · 2 months

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hii can i pls ask for an argument with hoshina and how u fixed everything after jsnshsbshsbs 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

a/n: thank you for your request (´∀｀)♡ this took longer than it should have, I apologize ╥﹏╥

pairing: hoshina soshiro x fem!reader

summary: a small misunderstanding turns into a huge argument.

genre: romance/hurt & comfort/jealousy/fluff |

[wc: 1,6k]

enjoy!

Kiss and Make Up | Hoshina Soshiro

You were mad, beyond pissed even. Your heart was beating in irregular motions and the irritation practically oozed off your face. The tension laid thick in the air as you and your boyfriend continued to ignore each other, sitting in complete silence in front of the television.

So many thoughts roamed your head– insults, counter arguments and statements, yet you refused to give the man another second of attention.

He has truly done it now.

“I'was just another celebration with the squad, nuttin that big of a deal. You would have known if you had come.” Hoshina slurred his words as he dragged his drunk self through the hallway of your shared apartment and into the bedroom.

“Bet that Okonogi was there too, right? That smartass wannabe who always seems to be in desperate need of your help.”

“Oh pwease, you're overreacting. Okonogi is not like that so stop bein so annoying.”

That last statement had sealed his fate (and almost earned him a slap in the face). Before you knew it, the two of you fell into a fully blown out fight that lasted through the entire night. Insults were dropped, his hands pushed you and yours shoved him as well.

“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?! It's honestly so irritating!” Hoshina yelled out.

“Your stupidity is more irritating! Maybe if you stop being so full of your fucking self all the time and start using that brain of yours, you would see the issue at hand!” You snapped back.

Fights were uncommon in your relationship but when the two of you fought it was messy and draining. But most importantly, they stung.

Even after the night had fallen and sunshine arose, the atmosphere in your apartment still laid thick in the air. Half the day had passed and neither of you said anything to each other, until the both of you ended up in the living room at the same time. He was busy taking care of the cats (who had run into the wide space) while you were already sitting there, reading your favorite novel.

At first silence kept the situation at bay, neither of you forced to interact with one another, until a phone call broke the tranquil atmosphere.

“Your work phone, huh.” You said, eyes remaining on the book as you flipped to the next page. “Wonder who that could be.”

Hoshina refrained himself from answering your remark and quickly picked up the call. Although he had turned the loud speaker function off, you were able to hear a female voice from the other side.

“Yeah of course I can help, no need to thank me.” He hung up.

“Let me guess, little damsel in distress needs your help again?”

“That's enough, Y/n.” Hoshinas voice cut sharp through the room, silencing you temporarily, before you spoke up again.

“Don't talk about Okonogi like that, alright? She is a good friend and your coworker. Ya being so unreasonable.”

“I am being unreasonable?? Oh, I'm sorry for getting upset when my boyfriend spends more time with his good friend than his partner!” The book was no longer of any importance to you. You had tossed it while standing up from your seated position.

“How long has this been going on now?? Every other day she asks you to hang out or do this together or she needs help here and there. Are you fucking kidding me??”

“Oh please, look at the way you're acting, it's ridiculous! We work in the same department so of course we spend a lot of time together!”

It felt like your words went right past his ear and vice versa. Both of you were now standing right across from one another, anger evident on both your faces. Even the tension grew in size, swallowing up the entire space and forcing your cats to run out.

You hated the surge of anger that rushed through your body. Feeling this way, jealous and annoyed when the man who normally solved all your problems was right in front of you, it pained you deeply. In moments like these, all you wanted to do was break down and hide away, preferably in his arms, but that was not an option right now.

“You sure that's the only reason you spend so much time together? Because it sounded different a couple weeks ago.”

“A couple..what are you talking about??” Hoshina asked, genuinely confused. You broke your gaze, looking at the ground in hopes that the pressure would disappear.

“At the bar..don't act like you don't remember!” And without allowing him to even respond, you dashed into your room and knocked the door shut behind you. Your boyfriend simply stood there, unsure of how to react to this sudden change of events. A long sigh escaped his lips as he followed you into the room.

“Y/n..”

“Leave me alone!” Your head was buried deep into the pillow (the one on Hoshina's side). Tears had made it out of your eyes and you desperately wanted to hide them.

“What exactly did I say at the bar..please tell me.” The regret in Hoshina's tender voice did not go unnoticed by you. It tugged on your heart and only caused the pain to increase. You truly hated seeing him like this.

“You..you said that you like smart women..” Repeating those words from weeks ago now made you feel stupid. “When Kafka asked you what your type was..you said that you prefer smart women and then you..proceeded to look at Okonogi! She was sitting right next to Kafka, so maybe you were looking at him instead, I don't know, I was just as drunk but still!”

Hoshina stood in front of the bed, disbelief holding him back from talking. He could barely remember the events of that night, only that it involved too much alcohol. But hearing you say those words, with tears in your eyes and a broken voice, it made your boyfriend feel like shit.

“But I was obviously talking about you, love, You are smart” He said as he placed himself next to you on the bed, hands rubbing your back. “Wait..is that why you didn't join us in yesterday's get together?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“I am not smart, not at all. I work as a damn secretary for the Kaiju Hunters while Okonogi is a skilled woman who runs analysis and she is the Operations Leader. And not to mention, she is so pretty too.”

Up until now, Hoshina did not know that you were harboring such emotions. Your sudden confession left his mind blank, it was as if he had temporarily lost all thoughts due to the shock. You on the other hand couldn't have felt more embarrassed.

You had no right to go after Okonogi like that and blame her for your insecurities. But when Hoshina spoke those words and afterwards looked at her, you just felt too heated.

Moments like these made you wonder, why Hoshina refused to leave you. Unlike the other women in his life, you were hotheaded and emotional, pushing and shoving when someone messed with your feelings instead of talking it out.

Little did you know, that this was exactly what Soshiro liked about you. He loved you for being hotheaded and a tease, but also sweet and caring during the right moments. You were the perfect match for him and nothing could convince him otherwise.

“Y/n, don't you ever say that about yourself ever again. You are my smart, beautiful hotheaded woman, the woman I love and cherish. Plus it takes hella brain to work as a secretary, especially for those jerks.” Soshiro placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you back up into a seated position.

Your eyes were slightly puffy and a soft frown pulled on your lips.

“I'm sorry for not expressing myself clearly enough and for making it seem like I prefer Okonogi to you. You are the one I love and care about, I promise.”

“But..but I am so mean to everyone and to you as well, Soshiro.” Hoshina's words had touched your heart and caused the tears to resurface, even though they never truly left.

“Plus I get jealous way too easily and don't..I'm just too..” You hiccupped.

“Shh, there there. I don't wanna hear none of that, you hear me?” Your boyfriend wrapped one arm around your waist while the other patted your head. A soft kiss found its way on your cheek, drawing a pout from your lips.

“I'm sorry Soshiro, for being so irritating. You are a great friend and coworker to Okonogi and you are a true blessing for constantly helping her out. I shouldn't get jealous over that." Hoshina smiled and placed another kiss on your face, this time on your lips. It felt sweet and comforting, you wished it could have lasted forever.

“And I'm sorry for being so stupid.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, the sweet scent of his body filling your nose. The hug lasted quite long, as long as you both needed it to, and it patched up all the wounds that were still left open by the argument. As you pulled away, you gazed into each other's eyes, losing yourself temporarily.

“Lucky for you, I love my women slightly irritating.” He joked.

“And I like my men stupid.”

“Hey!”

The both of you laughed, the content of the argument already forgotten.

a/n: i know its not obvious at all but i was actually going for a hori x miyamura type of relationship

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (do we as a society still use this emoticon?)

i just love hori’s and miyamura's dynamic, they could never make me hate them! plus i wholeheartedly believe that Hoshina needs a partner who is more emotional/teasing than him so he can be sure that his attitude is handled ^^

#yoredoesmore #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #x reader #request #hoshina x reader #romance #fluff #hurt/comfort #i do in fact not know when to use the hurt/comfort tag #horimiya 4 life #trying to give y/n a personality other than being soft

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kamen20ghost · 3 months

Text

Stungknight cuddles

We cut a day when Blake on a couch and is reading a novel she had in her back log. As she reading we see Yang slowly sneaking her way to cuddle her black ninja kitty.

Blake: * Felt something off and notices from a mirror that Yang was making her to her and she knew what Yang wanted and was ready to move.*

Yang: * once in position she pounced at black and screamed.* BLAKE!!!!! * wince lightly as she saw she only touch couch and look over to the now standing Blake.*

Blake: *Standing across from Yang glaring at her as she didn’t want to be touch now.* not again!

Yang: *Gets up and looks at her with determination in her eyes as she gets ready to chase Blake.* Oh again!

Blake: *Runs out of the room and into the living room and then into a hall.*

Yang: *Makes her way to the room door and look around to see which way Blake went. Once she saw the way Blake went she gave chase.* Come here Blake!

Blake: *Stops when she sees Yang catching up and starts to fromulate a plan.*

Yang: *Stops with some space between her and Blake.* No where to run now Blake.

Blake: *A plan form in her mind as she chuckles and looks over to Yang.*

Yang: *Sees Blake chuckling and was curious.* what’s so funny?

Blake: oh Yang you forget who exactly it is you are fucking with.

Yang: oh ya why do you say that?

Blake: Because Yang. *Pulls out a yellow flip flop.*

Yang: *gasps as flashbacks of Summer punishing her with a flip flop flash her mind.*

Blake: I know your weaknesses! *Waves the flip flop closer to Yang.*

Yang: *Cowers Back with a growl.*

Blake: *Chuckling with flip flop in hand.*

Yang: *Still cowering as she calls Blake bluff.* You wouldn’t dare

Blake: *Looks Yang dead in the eyes.* Oh I would! *Throws the flip flop in a random direction.*

Yang: *Ducks and covers herself but then looks around and sees Blake missed.* Ha ha you missed. *Only to see Blake gone and running to front door.* Dame it * Chases after her.*

Blake: *Makes her way to front door only to crash and fall off of someone. She then looks up with wide eyes as she saw who it was.*No.

???: *Chuckling as he looks down at Blake.*

Blake:*Starts to back away with a bit of fear in her eyes.* No you

???: oh yes Blake me!

Blake:*Whimpering and trying to form words.* Ja-Ja

Jaune: oh yes jaunes home!!!

Blake: *Looks in fear at her other blonde cuddler.*NOOOOO!!!!

Jaune: *Smiles as he jumps onto Blake.* Oh now come here.

Yang: *Joins jaune* Don’t for get about me!!!

Blake:*Screams as both blonds jump on her.*

Later Blake’s is begrudgingly siting in jaune lap as Yang lays her head in hers. Both humming contently.

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake bellodona #rwby dragonslayer #rwby knightshade #RWBY Stungknight

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high-ashell-hargrove · 4 months

Text

Ghostface!Eddie Munson; 1000k words

Warning: MDNI; non-con, breaking an entering, harassment, predator/pray vibes, p/v.

Brrringg, brrring, brr-

“Hello?”

Y/n stood there for a moment, hair wet and stringy, the carpet under her feet became damp.

“Helloooo?”

She said again a little louder, nothing came. Hanging up the phone she sighed, padding over to her closet she took out her pajamas for bed

Brrring, brrring, brrring

Her head shot over to the phone sitting on her dresser, ignoring it she pulled on her clothes, and threw her towel lazily in her closet.

Pulling out her nightstand drawer she grabbed the latest novel she had started reading, she got situated against her headboard and flipped open her book.

Brrringgg, brrringgg, brrrr-

Crawling out of bed She rushed over to the phone, picking it up again

“Hello? Who is this”

Her heart pounded against her chest, her fingernails dug into the skin of her palm.

“Hello”

The voice on the other end said After a long silent pause

“Who is thi-“

“What’s your name honey”

“What? Who are you-“

“Cmon y/n I’m try to have some fun here”

It wasn’t a voice she recognized, her head whipped around, checking to see if her blinds were open, which they weren’t. She slammed down the phone. Walking back over to her bed she laid there, her chest tight and her ears fuzzy. She stared at the ceiling for who knows how long. Then it started up again

It rang

And rang

Groaning she popped out of bed, grabbing the chair at her desk she pulled it up next to the phone and waited

Brr-

“Steve is this you? Are you fucking with me? What kind of j-“

“Honey, calm down. Who’s Steve?”

“Who are you? What do you want”

Bile rose in her throat her hand became shaky.

“I wanna play a game, then I’ll leave ya alone”

“Huh? Are you crazy or sumthin?”

“I’ll act like you did just say that”

Y/n thought for a moment, contemplating her options.

“I play you’ll leave me alone?”

“Yes”

Y/n agreed quickly, wanting whatever this was to end fast.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Y/n pinched her eyes shut, her patience slipping by the second

“ Friday the 13th I guess”

“You guess?”

“Fine yes it’s definitely Friday the 13th!”

“What’s the name of Jason’s mother”

Y/n scoffs

“You’ve got to be fuckin kidding right? Like actually fuc-“

“Answer the question!”

The man on the other end yelled

Y/N’s breath was broken up by fear

“Shit…. Uhhh Pam! Pamela”

She corrected herself, running her hands through her hair

The man praised her, moving onto the next question

“Where was Friday the 13th part 3 filmed”

“How am I supposed to know that? You are asking a lot here man”

Y/n is quiet for a while after that

“You clock is ticking y/nnnn”

The voice sang

“I’m fuckin thinking!!!”

His voice starts up again

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

“Jesus New Jersey! Final answer New Jersey”

The man sighed

“That was wrong, it was California. You loose”

The line when dead.

Y/n heart quickened, she put down the phone, getting up she rushed to her closet. Grabbing out her metal bat, she locked her door and curled up on her bed.

The phone rang again

She didn’t pick it up.

Suddenly the lights went out, her fan slowing to a completely stop.

Tears burned in her eyes, her knuckles tightening to an insane grip.

Don’t go look, that’s how you die

She said to herself.

She could hear the creaking of the front door, then the steps, then silence

There was a pounding on her bedroom door, rattling the entire thing almost off the hinges, it got worse and worse

One last kick did it in, the solid wood thwacking the drywall behind it.

A scream rattled out of y/ns throat, lunging at the masked man y/n attempted to hit him with the bat, but in return he catches it and tears it from her grip, falling back she brace yourself for what’s to come next.

He wraps his gloved hand around y/ns neck, pressing her back into the mattress. A strained breath wracking through her throat.

“Please if it’s money you wa-“

The man above her chuckled. Leaning down his face is inches from hers

“Silly girl I don’t want your money, I wanna hear you scream”

He growled, flipping y/n onto her stomach, his hand pressing her head into the sheets, the other tracing down the column of her spine, sending shivers throughout her body.

His hips thrusted into her backside, his fingers intertwined themselves in the hem of her pants pulling the cool fabric down slowly.

“Please don’t-“

Y/n was cut off as the intruder ran his fingers over her exposed cunt, her hips bucked backwards and a whine erupted from her throat

“Dunno pretty girl you seem like your enjoying this”

Leaning down the man lifts his mask, licking a fat strip over her cunt again, making her eyebrows furrow.

His mask was off completely now, the clanking of his belt and jeans hitting the floor rattled through the room, pulling up the black fabric he put it between his teeth, holding it there as he lined himself up with her entrance.

“So fuckin sloppy Jesus Christ”

His words fumbled out, thrusting slowly into her, y/n's face twists, her hole stretching further than she thought it would.

”y know” he grunts out, his thrusts quickening, chasing his release

“I was just gonna fuckin kill you but I might just keep you around for this”

his fist comes up and twists into her hair, pulling her back into his chest, his face burrowing into her neck. His hips stutter, releasing into her.

“Might just be my favorite new plaything.”

#plus size!reader #smut #stranger things #smut imagine #smut x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things 4 #fanfiction #imagines #ghostface #ghostface!eddie Munson #ghostface!eddie Munson x reader #scream AU #AU

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ofswordsandpens · 9 months

Text

yes, I do think about the line "How could she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?" from the YA novel Flipped every single day, why do you ask?

#the perfect mixture of confusion and jealousy and adolescent longing #again:#flipped was my pride and prejudice before pride and prejudice was my pride and prejudice #flipped #flipped 2010

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Diabolical 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

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

The reverberation of copper ripples through the air. You nearly slip under the water as you jolt. You grip the edges of the tub and sit up. Another crash thunders and you scowl. Your peace is shattered.

Candles, music, a book, and a steaming bath. It's a perfect night. Or it was.

You wait and listen. Silence. You let yourself back and reach for the novel on your bath table. Another egregious cacophony has you splashing yourself with water.

You growl and slide the table out of the way as you stand. You grab your towel as water slakes off of you. You pay no mind to the mess that puddles below each step as the thrashing continues.

You storm across the apartment, sliding dangerously on the hardwood, and you put your eye to the peephole. The man grins, as if he can see you and shakes the box in his hands. The metal echoes again.

How dare he? It's almost nine in the evening! You tear open the door, your hand clasped around the knot of your towel, and you snarl.

"Must you make so much noise?"

He cackles at you as he hugs the box of cymbals and bells. "Eh, I'm just doin' good ole Hughie a favour. He's been talkin' 'bout getting into drumming so's I say Hughie, I know a guy. Can get you everything you need."

"I don't...care." You bluster. "Should you even have those in a box? There are bags meant for that."

"Who cares? You just bang on the things anyhow. Well, then," he turns to the door behind him. "Seems like my pal isn't in." He drops the box and the raucous clamour makes you groan. "I'll just leave 'em here for him. Buddy that I am." He spins back to face you. "And you can get back to listening to Bach and drinking your oolong." He makes a motion which could be tipping a cup or something more heinous. "Your majesty."

You furrow your brow and roll your eyes. "All I asked for was a bit of decency. It wasn't any sort of insult but I see to you, any thought of being kind is offensive."

"Talkin' to me about being decent and you're stood out here in a dish towel," he scoffs.

"I--" you look down, remembering yourself. You move to hide behind the door. "Well, you disturbed me--"

"You are disturbed, ain't ya, sweetheart?"

You sneer. "Fine, whatever. I'll make sure Hugh gets his drums."

"Hugh?" He chuckles. "You are something."

"Good night, sir." You back up and close the door. Your certain to lock it too.

His laughter keens through and friction brushes up the other side. "It's Butcher, not sir, love." He taps and you flinch, "have yourself a good night, won't ya? Don't think of me too much."

You huff and have a mind to open the door again. Not, that’s only what he wants. You retreat and trod back to the bathroom. The water’s tepid and the scent of the candles grows overwhelming. You shut off the music and pull the stopper. So much for relaxing.

The tension needles across your shoulder. You blow out the wicks and snatch your book from the table. You go to your room and flip on the bedside lamp. You put the novel on your pillow and pull on a night gown.

You recline and crack open the book. A long honk blares from outside. That’s not unusual but what is, is the successive short toots that follow, almost in a rhythm. You try to ignore it. The honks vary, long, short, soft, loud. You realise the offender is doing a rather poor job of honking out Beethoven.

You know exactly the culprit and you won’t let him know you’re bothered. Let him waste his own energy not yours. Besides, if he had any sort of nuance, he’d realise you don’t sit around and listen to classical. You appreciate vintage music but you’re not pretentious. You simply have your tastes. Nothing wrong with that.

You lay back and your eyes gloss over the words without reading. You may not want to give him the satisfaction but it doesn't mean it’s not working. Several rereads of the same paragraph have you fed up. You sink down and drop the book.

You stare at the ceiling and sigh. You can’t even put on a movie or music. You won’t be able to hear it.

As if on cue, silence. You exhale. Thank god.

An engine rumbles and you hear it steer down the alley outside. You hear the tires crawling just below your window. Another wall of sound rises and has you nearly jumping out of your skin. Heavy metal pumps through the wall and has you gritting your teeth.

It’s him. That imbecile.

#billy butcher #dark billy butcher #dark!billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys #series #drabble #diabolical

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dragonnarrative-writes · 4 months

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Forming The Pack - Part 3

Autumn Embers Master List

As long as John’s known him, Simon’s never been openly playful. He’s a cheeky son of a bitch - having Ghost and Gaz on comms is an exercise in keeping a straight face - but when he’s not behind closed doors he’s… quiet. Serene. Simon will swipe a bit of food off a plate that isn’t his when John or Kyle isn’t looking. But he’s more inclined to settle in next to John with a sci-fi novel and a cuppa than to wrestle Kyle when he manages to prank him.

All of that gets turned on its head when Johnny “Soap” McTavish shows up.

John hadn’t expected the man to last long. When word got to him that Soap had touched The Ghost on their first meeting, he prepared for the worst. But Simon didn’t mention anything during either of their pre- or post-mission check-ins. Three days later, there they were on the tarmac, whole and healthy and in sync.

Soap had drifted along perfectly in Ghost’s wake to the debrief. Got scruffed for almost sitting in Ghost’s seat, but he’d laughed it off without even a whiff of offense. Price thought his barely contained fidgeting would have set Ghost on edge, but even through scent blockers and armor, the lieutenant had been as relaxed as he ever was on duty.

Now, watching Simon pick Johnny up by his ankle and fling him across the mats with a huge grin on his scarred face, John wonders if Simon’s just needed the right person to play with. Certainly, Soap throws himself back at the lieutenant without any hesitation. He can’t seem to work up a proper snarl without laughing. Combined with Simon’s near silence, the fight is a little disconcerting to follow, but John can’t help but rumble his approval.

Waiting for his turn on the mats, Kyle smells excited when he says, “Don’t think I’ve seen Ghost have this much fun in a spar in a long time.”

“No,” John answers as Soap rolls, bounces to his feet, and tackles Ghost around his middle. The resulting grapple is more than a little sloppy. “Not really sure they’re sparring, to be perfectly honest. Ghost,” he calls. “Pin him.”

Like a switch being flipped, the spar turns viscous. Ghost is big, bigger than most alphas, but Soap is strong, creative, and relentless. John keeps expecting him to tire, but he gets a second wind, a third, a fourth. It won’t be enough - Ghost has his orders and a deep reserve of will that John’s never been able to break - but it’s damned impressive.

A full seven minutes later, Soap lies pinned under the other alpha’s bulk, sides heaving with exertion. He doesn’t smell angry, the way some people do the first time they realize they were never going to win. He tries to get up when John approaches with Gaz in tow, but Ghost holds him steady. After a moment, he relaxes against the mat, tension leaving his body like he knows he’s safe with three alphas over him.

“You’ve been toying with him,” John observes. Ghost grunts an acknowledgment. Soap’s breathing stays even. John watches him tense, then relax as Ghost’s body goes rigid over him again. “Let him up.”

Ghost grumbles but rolls to the side to lie on his back. His chest expands as he sucks a deep breath, then lets it go in a big gust. Still on his belly, Soap looks at him, then cranes his neck to look up at Price and Gaz.

“Ah’m free t’go, then?” he questions.

“’Course,” Price answers. “Unless you want to stay.”

“Might,” the sergeant answers, resettling so his face is pressed to the ground again. “Big bastard’s ‘bout worn me out. Got ‘im trained up, d’ ya?’

“Watch it,” Ghost rumbles, but his eyes are closed. Either he’s sweat through his scent blockers or he didn’t bother to wear any in the first place. He smells like Price and Gaz, like easy contentment. He smells just a bit like Soap now, too. The hand closest to the sergeant flops over to wrap around his bicep.

Gaz makes an inquiring noise that John barely keeps himself from echoing. Soap looks up at them with clear eyes and doesn’t move into or away from the contact. John huffs a quiet laugh and drops into a comfortable squat.

He expects it when Ghost cocks his head back to bare his neck, easy as anything with just the four of them in the gym. He doesn’t expect the way Soap rolls onto his own back, shoulder to shoulder with Ghost and temple close to the inside of John’s boot. His eyebrows jump when Soap tips his own chin up and takes an obvious huff of Price’s scent.

“Forward, aren’t you?” John wraps a gentle palm over Ghost’s throat, gives him the barest hint of pressure to feel his barely there purr. He hovers his other hand near Soap’s face, waits to see what he’ll do.

“Ma tells me my nose is going to get me into trouble,” Soap sighs, letting his chin touch the tips of Price’s fingers. “Ghost says you can keep me in line.”

“That so?” Price scratches gently at the hairs on his chin. He takes a moment to watch Kyle sit on Ghost’s other side, hand on the man’s belly as a greeting. A deep breath tells him that all three of his boys - and isn’t that interesting? - are content. John edges back the neck of Soap’s shirt and spots the familiar curve of Simon’s teeth marks. “Expanding the pack on my behalf then, Simon?”

“’E’s good for it, sir.” Under John’s hands, Simon looks half asleep. Johnny is equally relaxed, giving in to the exhaustion of a satisfying flight. His blue eyes sparkle up at John when Simon adds, “Gotta good mouth on ‘im. You’ll see.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #poly 141 #omegaverse #autumn embers verse #manic pixie dream ghost #price is right #gaz appreciation nation #soap suds

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capslocked · 2 years

Text

UNRAVEL

male reader x kim jisoo

6k words

It’s all a mess honestly. You need her. She needs you. Just none of it in the same way.

It’s late as you arrive through the front door of your apartment. Just into the kind of hours that saw the lion’s share of your reckless decisions. So, it’s not unreasonable that you’d find her here now—sunk into the cushions of your sofa, finger against her temple, eyes halfway attending some novel she pulled off your bookcase—she more than knows what she’s doing.

Keys, wallet, phone all clamor and rattle as you set them down on the narrow table inside your foyer.

"I must’ve missed when we decided you could just let yourself in."

"Well if we’re splitting hairs," Jisoo says, waiting for the sound of a page to flip between her fingers, "You’re the one who gave me a spare key."

"If we’re splitting hairs Jisoo—it was for emergencies."

"And?"

"And." You shove your hands into your pockets.

She closes the book gently, no effort spent to bookmark or dog-ear a corner, and rests it on her thigh. "What if you’d gone missing? Drank yourself to death or got pushed in front of a bus. That’d be an emergency now wouldn’t it."

"So, just a hypothetical one then. Got it."

A humorless laugh and she smiles, the unmistakable glow in her eyes reeling you into her. "Don’t act too happy to see me."

You unsling your bag from your shoulder. "I don’t suppose you could’ve called?"

"Funny." Jisoo tilts her chin up at you. "I was about to say the same thing."

The step you take up into the living room as Jisoo rises from her seat is an apprehensive one. The lights are dimmed just barely bright enough to read by. And try as you may, Jisoo’s silhouette is the only thing your tired eyes can find a place to rest in. Maybe it’s how the moonlight catches her pale skin or the way she gets gently washed in those soft blues and greens of the city’s nighttime neon that pour diffuse through your windows. It’s almost necessary to remind yourself that it’s your apartment the two of you are standing in. Always there’s this precise, polished look about her—she owns every room she steps into.

Jisoo tucks a stubborn strand of midnight hair behind her ear before tapping a finger on the book she’d placed down on the coffee table. "It’s a good read by the way."

You glance at its cover and a derisive laugh blows out your nose. "So what was all that then—about not reading anything that isn’t at least a hundred years old—time tested you called it."

Jisoo hides a quiet smile as she lets her eyes wander a moment to her feet. "It’s close enough to a hundred isn’t it? Besides, it’s Gatsby, I can make an exception."

"Speaks to you, huh?"

"There’s just something so magical about the way he chases Daisy, ya know? That’s the kind of love I want. Waking up every morning knowing someone out there needs you."

"I’m willing to bet most readers end up sympathizing with Jay—all with the anguish of pursuing a woman who’s completely unobtainable?" You toss your work bag over the back of the sofa. "Just the kind of thing I’d hope mostly to avoid."

When Jisoo squares her shoulders to yours, you find yourself swallowing at an impossible thirst in your throat. Brains, beauty, wit. It’s probably the hundredth time she’s run through your thoughts today, and you can’t still figure out anything you don’t like about her, at least not on paper. So, you continue on, unfortunately thinking so very often about her—the way she smiles when you hold her, the way her eyes soften when her face is inches from yours, the way she runs her fingers through your hair—perfect. That’s how you’d describe her; if perfect could ever hope to be a pejorative.

"I think you worry too much." Her svelte figure finds itself easily in the space in front of yours and she wraps her fingers around the bottom of your necktie. She’s not even touching you and it’s making it hard to breathe. "Wouldn’t you say?"

Were you to flip through a calendar and search for the day you’d first undressed her in your apartment, you’d have to start by grabbing one more and then rifle back about eighteen months or so to put your finger on it. Only now should you have instead cut from those pages the time you’d actually spent together—most of it between the sheets mind you—you doubt it would manage to stitch together more than a few weeks. That was the nature of your relationship.

It’s not like we’re dating ya know.

Jisoo was always rather firm on this point.

And god, had you grown weary of hearing it. Usually a non-sequitur in its arrival, it would bounce and rattle around your thoughts for days, the warm voice behind it painfully clear and articulate. All because you’d made the mistake of bringing it up one time.

It really ought to be the kind of thing that closed more doors than it opened, answered more questions than it raised. The sentence probably deserved a period. Granted, there wasn’t yet an empty wine bottle in the sink nor were your clothes scattered about in different states of undress around the room, but you recognize the feeling—hanging on the end of a comma.

"I told you. I’m not going to do this anymore." You begin to twist your arms out from the sleeves of your coat. "I felt like I was pretty clear about it."

You were.

"What—in the hotel?" Jisoo sneaks behind you and helps coax the jacket off your shoulders, laughing to herself. "That conversation? The one you and I had just fifteen minutes before you pinned me against the wall, pulled my skirt up and—"

"Jisoo."

"Yeah. How presumptuous of me to assume you’d changed your mind," she adds, stressing a rasp in that ever-so-husked voice of hers. She ignores your protest, mostly because you let her; you always let her; she knows you always let her.

Quickly, her body against yours becomes a question, the racing of your heart its familiar answer.

"Jisoo," you repeat, finding it difficult to search for an authoritative voice all at the hand reaching under your chin, the heat of a short breath against your jaw, those parted lips dragging against your cheek. Dig your heels in. "I’m serious."

"Come to think of it—isn’t it a little late?" she asks, kissing you again just beyond the corner of your mouth. Her voice is cool, gentle breaths warm on your skin. "To just now be coming in the door? To be honest, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show at all."

"Well don’t act surprised." You gently pull her hand by the wrist away from your chest. "This is where I sleep."

Jisoo fixes on you, those sweeping eyelashes keeping a pair of narrowed eyes entirely unreadable. "But that’s not always true now is it? In fact, tonight you were counting on sleeping somewhere else, no?"

"How do you figure all that?"

"Because your clothes smell like tobacco and cheap beer." She raises an eyebrow and begins teasing the fabric of your shirt up from out of your pants. "Do you at least have a good excuse? Something creative maybe?"

"You really want a creative one?"

Her eyes become soft for a moment before narrowing again and her lips part into an all-too-alluring shape. "No, not particularly."

"Fine then. Work," you answer. "The team wanted to do a happy hour. Or maybe a few."

"At an izakaya?" Her face tilts until it finds a look of skepticism that matches the inquisitive tone in her voice.

"Something like that."

"Are you drunk?"

"Well I can’t say I’m sober."

"And Rosie," she says, blinking slowly, "you two met there or some place later?"

Chin up, you twist a confused eyebrow over the top of a dry laugh. "Now what might give you that impression?"

A smirk pulls up on the corner of Jisoo’s lip, and in one quick motion she pinches between her fingers at a long strand of golden blonde hair from just beneath your collar. "You’re still wearing her on your shirt, handsome."

A deep breath marks your response as you bite softly into the inside of your cheek.

"Thought so. Now, I’m not so brash as to ask for details, but considering you’re here, and she isn’t… I can’t imagine she invited you up for coffee after you kissed her outside her—"

"Has anyone ever told you you’re a little tightly wound?"

Jisoo takes a moment, slightly disarmed. "Once or twice."

"I’ve gotta ask—is this something you do just to get into bed with me?"

"Not at all." She smiles. Always it manages to distract from the way she inches ever closer to you. "Getting into bed with you is a completely separate affair."

Of course there’s some sort of game here. And one day you’ll learn how to win at it, or at least the rules, or even just how it’s scored (in spite of the fact Jisoo seems keen on changing all of it constantly). Too quickly however, before whatever prudent thoughts might rebuke them, it’s your hands that give you away. The thin fabric of her blouse beneath your fingers, you map the familiar shapes and curves where Jisoo’s waist meets her hips.

You shake your head across a series of breathy laughs. "And just what does that look like Jisoo?"

She leans into you, her palms sliding slowly up your chest. "From the top? Because right now, I’d guess we’re just getting into the real thick of it."

She stands close to you, her body now breaking all sorts of boundaries. The flavor of her perfume hits your nose and she’s resting a thigh against yours. Those parted lips hover just in front of your face—pink, narrow and wildly irresistible. Reach forward and you can simply take them.

You swallow again and your eyes shift away from hers before they might grab hold of you like quicksand. "You think I don’t know how it starts?"

"Oh?" She starts again at the skin on your neck, each kiss lingering longer and melting into your skin until finally she holds herself just over your lips. The breaths of her sultry voice crash onto your face, "Go on then, let’s hear it."

You straighten yourself out, earning you the fleeting remains of your personal space. "I mean it’s all more or less the same right? You sit down, we chat, nonsense mostly. I ask you how your trip was, you tell me about Paris, Milan, New York City or another."—always she was coming and going and coming and going—"I offer you something to drink, you ask if I have any wine, I bring out that bubbly stuff I keep buying even though you’re the only one who cares to drink it—"

"Ha. You know I had my suspicions." The soft, round tip of Jisoo’s nose drags across your cheek as she reaches up in her heels and finds her lips onto the bottom of your ear. In seconds, her voice fills your head completely. "And then what?"

Of course, your precocious hands can’t stop reaching further behind Jisoo—into the narrow ridge that runs up the center of her back, to the curve of her ass, the bottoms of her shorts inviting you to venture beneath them. You clear your throat before giving her the response she wants, "The cork comes off, clothes not too long after and tongues are in mouths I suppose."

Jisoo hangs off your shoulders with a hand slowly twisting up the length of your tie. A sculpted eyebrow dips and her expression nearly pouts. "Just mouths?"

"Well—"

"Maybe you ought to remind me—all those things your tongue can do."

It’s the same every time. Eighteen months of limbo, of seeing, not seeing, seeing, not seeing this girl who moved far faster than you could ever hope to keep up with. You’d promised yourself to have an ounce of resolve—something, anything, that even looked like resolve would do. Now of course, Jisoo was never going to outright put her lips to yours and kiss you. No, that’s something she leaves for you. Because she knows. When you’re in her hands like this? Inevitable.

If it had started slow, you missed it entirely.

The swell of her lower lip twitches, and you crash hard into her. The way her lips curve and arch—unbelievable, the pretty things—they remind you just how right it feels to take them in your own. The long lashes across her eyes tickle and tease you until you’re both staring into the stars behind your eyelids and struggling to breath steady. It’s entirely reckless, and absolutely dangerous, but somewhere in this tumultuous endeavor, you can only ever know the calming touch of her cool, wet lips against yours calling you home.

She’s small, her narrowed shoulders between your arms easy to hold yourself around. The staggered breaths moving haphazard through her chest push against you as she melts into your embrace.

You hold her tight, just underneath where her shoulder blades rise from the middle of her back, pressing further and pulling her into you until she gasps into your kiss. Before you realize it, you’ve got her bent back at the knees, holding on tightly to you with those dainty arms wrapped around your neck as you chase deeper into her lips.

When you’d heard she was in town, again, from a fashion show or a film festival (honestly it’s become impossible to remember), this was the exact scene you’d intended to avoid. Of all the girls you’ve never dated, Jisoo was intent on somehow being the most impossible to break up with.

"Mmnph…" Jisoo swallows down a choked breath and takes a beat to gather herself as a small distance comes to exist between your lips. You open your eyes and she’s staring right back into yours, these deep shimmering pools of dusty browns and grays. Her cheeks glow a faint pink. She bats her eyelashes. The corners of her eyes crease and she’s got this smile, it's always that smile, the rare kind you doubt you’ve stumbled upon more than a handful of times in your life. Effortless and delicate, it wraps you up into her. Even though its radiant and beaming for all to see, you swear when she’s here—like this—it only focuses on you with this ever-tempting prejudice in your favor.

She wets her lips and lets a sultry voice interrupt the moment, "Well, what are you going to do now?"

It’s been a long day. Your heart is tender, tired, sore. Fuck, It’s been a long eighteen months. Tugging at the shirt bunching in your fingertips, you answer her, simply taking her lips again.

She gasps when you push her into the wall and again when you place your knee between her thighs. There’s five buttons down the front of her blouse, two more at the waist of her shorts. Your hand feels slowly down the shape of her slim figure, and they all come undone while Jisoo’s tongue begins to slip gently between your lips.

She shifts her weight between her legs. And as if you’d cut some invisible thread holding the entire delicate assemblage together, those garments make their way to the floor. It’s instinctual the way your hands wrap around Jisoo, finding the perfect shape of her ass. Your fingers squeeze into soft skin and a hushed, accidental moan spills from her throat into yours.

A barely-there trail of spit between your mouths grows until it vanishes into the dark as you pull your face away from Jisoo—her eyes open slowly and rest weary in yours. She’s so beautiful it often takes the words right off your lips. You’d grown to know it impossible to ask promises or demands of her, but the way she holds you right now, her hands on your chest and back, her eyes soft and welcoming, it always manages to keep the embers of a fire—that cruel thing of hope—stoked and burning gently inside you.

She grabs gently at your wrist, guiding you sternly to where she really needs you—between her legs. Your fingertips brush the skin beneath her waist, atop her underwear and she places her words in your ear, "now come, feel me."

The loose fitting lace of her panties bunches in your palm the further you venture to reach into that smoldering warmth between her thighs. She grasps tight at your shoulders, lifts her chin and shudders as your finger drags across the pair of lips hidden beneath it all.

Again her voice rests atop a whisper, some silent curse or another.

Bathed in the soft light of the moon, Jisoo has this almost ethereal beauty about her. When she moves—and nearly imperceptible when she does—the dance of light and shadows scatters into these mesmerizing shapes across the pale skin of her body. The cast of those shadows, dark and unrelenting like India ink, tease her image through your head where your thoughts scramble to capture it however incomplete and grainy.

Sneaking under the loose elastic around her waist, knuckles tenting the hopeless fabric, you finally feel her. A wetness pools at her entrance. And just beyond it, the unmistakable heat that radiates from inside her. With a delicate touch, the rough pads of your fingers dip and play. Jisoo bites her lip at that chord you strike against her aching mound and a sharply sucked chestful of air tugs at the muscles in her stomach, scattering again those shadows the night had lain across it.

She swallows and closes her eyes. Lilting into that deepened register of her voice, Jisoo continues to reel you into her. "There you go. I love the way you touch me."

The strap of a black lace bra rolls between her fingertips and slides off her shoulder. She leans forward, pinching a kiss onto your neck as the garment begins to reveal more and more of that porcelain skin beneath her collarbones. The swelling roundness of her breast fills your hand and a stiff nipple finds its way amidst the grip of your thumb and finger.

Jisoo’s kisses again land in your ear. "C’mon. Don’t play."

It’s all a mess honestly. You need her. She needs you. Just none of it in the same way. So repeatedly, drawn inextricably and spiraling toward some spectacular cosmic catastrophe, the two of you find one another.

Seldom do you have even a moment to consider it—especially given all the ways Jisoo needs you. Sometimes she demands just the first two knuckles of a finger, sometimes your lips, the broad stroke of your tongue, occasionally it becomes the paradoxical freedom she finds in your hand around her throat. Even knowing few bounds, it’s impressive how simply she takes it all off you. Her fingers set tight into muscle behind your shoulder, and she moves, hips beginning to shuffle and rock against the forever reliable shape of your hand.

Her lips part and a moan punched through them sticks a humid breath against your face. "Ohhh my god—yes."

She knows it’s selfish, but she doesn’t care. Those words off her lips hit your ears and your heart drums at a dull beat from deep within your chest.

A yelp, and a sudden draw of cold air past her teeth, you find Jisoo quickly filling with want and need in your hands. Her nipple between your fingers becomes a second target of torment and her muscles jump as you find the aching bud atop her lips with a heavy touch of your thumb.

"This bad, huh?" you ask, feeling Jisoo’s body twist and unsettle in your grip. "Rough week?"

Jisoo’s lips break their kiss onto your neck, sighing. "No worse than usual."

"Yeah?" Your fingers dip again into that wet pool collecting into a sticky mess at her entrance. "Jisoo, you’re fucking soaked."

"Then maybe you ought to get down there and take care of it."

Just past where her aching folds surround her clit, you slip a finger into that tight warmth. Jisoo stifles a moan and you lift your chin, looking down your nose at the sight in front of you. "And how might I be able to do that?"

Struggling against your fingers, she answers, "If you’re—asking me to say it—you’re barking up the wrong—"

"Jisoo." Your shoulders drop and your head tilts into that angle—the one that pleads for a reasonable response—not that it ever has the efficacy it needs, no matter how meticulously practiced the look now is. "For christ’s sake, enough with that. You and I both know that you aren’t—"

"Your little slut?"

"Well—I was going to say a princess—but good on you to prove my point."

"You know it’s always my favorite part right?" Jisoo’s eyes narrow and a dangerous smile fills across her cheeks. "Watching you—pretend and toil like you don’t want to fuck me."

You can’t help but laugh, something about the way it cools your nerves. "Oh trust me—I know I shouldn’t—but I stopped pretending a long time ago."

"Well then, I suppose—if we’re not going to beat around the bush." Her voice in your ear becomes a command. "You can get on your knees. And give me your tongue."

Your hand out from between her legs, dragging a sheen of her wetness across her waist, you push her hip fast against the wall. A disgruntled whine leaves Jisoo’s lips, but the kiss you place on her neck is quick to pacify the complaint.

Slow, meticulous, every inch a purposeful destination, you dive. A trail from her neck to her collarbone, her soft skin meets your lips. The taste of it all—beyond her sweat, her scent—it quickly fills your thoughts, abstract but every bit as familiar. Your mouth latches around the tight bud atop her breast. The way your tongue and your teeth around it make her squirm sets a reminder in your head to visit the tender flesh again.

Now hovering beside her thighs, you chuckle at Jisoo’s hips beginning to search for you while you pull her underwear down the smooth curves of her legs. Your tongue clicks and you begin to chide her, "Jisoo—so needy—"

"Don’t start." She threads her fingers through your hair and pulls you into her. The breath you draw through your chest is moist, filled with the sweet smell of her excitement. Your nose brushes against her clit, your fingers tease the shallow depths of her entrance, and your tongue meets her lips, wanting.

She shudders. And her voice dips out of its usual composed timbre, meeting a contented sigh that shakes and moves her whole body. "Ohhhh."

The lips around her heat fold and twist under each slow, methodical, swirling pass of your tongue. Her hands pull you into her and your mouth forms kisses that suck and massage at her mound, finding again the familiarity of her reactions—a quick breath, a soft mewl, sometimes when you really find where she needs you, she curses.

When you look up, Jisoo’s eyes stare back at you with a heavy longing, her chin tucked and a hand holding the dark, wavy hair out of her face. The pleasure you brew between her legs has begun now to agitate these erratic waves of movement in the surface of her stomach, all as her muscles jump and her chest draws heavy gasps of air.

"That feels so good—"

You reach behind her, and a handful of Jisoo’s perfect ass helps guide her hips into your efforts while the other explores the wet mess you’ve created between her thighs. Her slick walls tighten around the length of your finger and Jisoo parts her lips, letting a muted whine spill loose from her chest as the shape of a second finger finds its way inside her.

Releasing your seal around her wet folds with a smack, you narrow your tongue, its firm tip quick to become a reliable partner for her aching clit—quick to become exactly the toy Jisoo needs.

Shuffling about, she turns her bra around on her chest and unclasps the stubborn thing before sending it careening to the floor. Completely naked for you now, the grind of her body against your mouth becomes more urgent, more selfish, seeking her own release on the shape of your tongue. Her lip caught between her teeth, she whispers, barely audible to you now in between her thighs, "right there—fuck your tongue."

Her knees begin to weaken and buckle. Locked in conflict, Jisoo’s building pleasure struggles against her desire to stand, holding her right where she needs to be, where your tongue can continue to deliver the swirling, tapping, teasing touches that race to bring her to the brink. When your fingers find the throbbing skin behind her clit, putting the poor swollen bud between a rock and a hard place, Jisoo begins to pant in fits and starts. The only thing clenching harder than her teeth are the muscles beginning to tense and lock around you.

You can feel your chin become slick, Jisoo’s wetness practically dripping onto your shirt, and those whispers become stuck in an endless loop, "keep going, keep going."

Ever since you’d known each other, and probably long before that, Jisoo’s very fabric had been stiffly woven into this spitting image of perfection—always concerned about the way people saw her, how people talked about her when she wasn’t listening, whether or not she might say something with even a hint of the wrong inflection. It has to be utterly exhausting. And you knew possibly better than her: where to find those loose threads that had been tucked and hidden away. A tap or a tease here, a pull and a twist there, and you see to it that Jisoo unravels.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!—Fuuuuuck."

Sharp fingernails dig into the back of your head, pressing you tight against her wet, aching mound. Her legs lock, muscles tighten, and in a moment of brief triumph, you look at her—taking in the sight of Jisoo coming undone.

Holding onto a silent moan, her expression twists, all scrunching and wrapping around the knuckle she keeps tight between her teeth. Nearly folding herself in half, she holds most of her weight against you as she reels in pleasure. You study each quiver and shake that seizes her body as the walls come down around her.

It’s somewhat of a mangled heap you two finally connect into onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. You’re the first to rise considering that your recovery was just about complete when you’d wiped the excessively wet surface of your mouth and chin with the back of your sleeve.

"God." Her lungs still gasping for air, she catches your stare with a pair of half-lidded eyes. "You’re fucking dangerous."

You suppose that makes two of you.

Beads of sweat form where her dark, silky hair wisps into soft strands at her temples. Her legs continue to carry on a slight wobble, walking across the carpet in your living room. And through it all, her unwavering commitment to seducing your every thought remains entirely steadfast—each step offering you a clear picture of her elegant figure, completely nude for you eyes to enjoy.

She places the palms of her hands on the room’s single window, a tall simple piece of glass that stretches from the floor to the ceiling, and she creates this irresistible curve from where her neck meets her shoulders to where her waist flares into the perfect roundness of her hips.

Jisoo pulls her face over her shoulder, her eyes peeking over it and she tells you everything you need to hear, "Get those clothes off—and come fuck me."

She doesn’t have to ask twice.

Tie, shirt, shoes, belt, pants, underwear all make this hapless trail throughout the room as you follow in the sound of Jisoo’s voice. You’re like a moth fluttering its wings in anxious proximity to a flame, the way she just makes your body move without thinking.

"Tell me," she says.

You position yourself behind her, fingers gingerly pumping your own cock as if it could even get any harder.

"Tell me—just how far do you think you’d have gotten with Rosé?"

"What’s with that?" You lick your palm and dip it between Jisoo’s thighs, but you should’ve known without needing any confirmation—she’s as slick as can be. "What’s it to you?"

Jisoo laughs quietly, "I mean the girl’s a grade A prude—"

A gasp interrupts Jisoo as you press your cock against the lips of her pussy, presented neatly in between her creamy thighs in front of you. You watch as she grips onto you inch by inch and all but pulls you into her inviting heat.

"So?" you ask.

The girl in your hands finds herself looking again over her shoulder, her eyes begging you to fuck her. "So—I’m sure you're a hell of a lot happier now that you’re about to have me."

"If I remember correctly—" And you’re more than sure you do. You start pushing your cock past the hot, tight seal of her lower lips. You find her wet and ready and wanting you, but still she needs to adjust to something bigger than just the narrow width of your fingers. "Weren’t you more of the same?"

You press your thighs against hers and Jisoo moans, the airy sound becoming her only response. Her shoulders rise and fall as she settles into the shape of you. All the same it manages to yank a groan out of your chest, only it fills you with this yearning for more of the warmth and tightness that now surrounds you.

"Am I wrong here?" You ask, bending forward against the arch of Jisoo’s back. You mock the aloof sound of her voice, "Miss I-don’t-usually-do-this."

Your hands grip onto Jisoo’s waist as you drag yourself back and press forward into her again, and you watch her body move, a ripple traveling through her thighs to her hips.

"Tha-That doesn’t sound like me."

Teeth starting to clench and grind, you whisper under your breath at the ridiculousness of it all, "you’re right—it certainly doesn’t."

It’s a delicate motion made across the velvety skin of her sopping pussy, but you come to bury your shaft in that slick heat of her cunt again. The way Jisoo feels—so impossibly tight and hot around your cock—you swear as though she were designed specifically with you in mind. Like a fucking glove. Bent at the waist, the angle lets you bury yourself deep, and at the end of each thrust, you have to make an effort not to simply lose yourself right then and there.

Slowly, you work up to a tempo that makes it difficult to carry much of any meaningful conversation at all. And all too quickly the angle you find against her hips sends Jisoo into a satisfying fit of panting breaths. You watch each one as it draws through her chest and lands hot against the glass, quickly becoming fogged and littered with hand prints.

Each collision between your hips fills your apartment with its fleshy sound, her taut wet skin against yours making for a particularly satisfying clap.

"So - fucking - good," Jisoo manages through her gritted teeth.

You soak up the perfect hourglass shape in front of you, holding tight at its stem. The city lights on the other side of the window manage to paint Jisoo in this fantastic myriad of colors. Blues, greens, reds, all these unnatural tones against the pale skin of her face, her back, her ass—she looks as if someone had decided to paint her and let their imagination run wild.

You can’t help but wonder what it looks like from the other side. Your room is only a few floors above street level, and anyone looking up would undoubtedly see Jisoo struggling to maintain her ridiculous posture, the beautiful features of her face fast becoming wracked with pleasure—not that either you or her seemed to care.

"Fuck, Jisoo I swear—you are too tight!" you groan, but there’s never any real purpose to the complaint. The force of each thrust against Jisoo’s tight body sends her inching closer to the glass in front of her until her shoulders are pressed tight to it and your bodies nearly parallel.

Jisoo strains on the tips of her toes to meet your height, to where your cock delivered this impossible pleasure to the burning heat of her cunt. Her hands search on the window in front of her for something to grab onto, but quickly come up with nothing as the glass offers no such reprieve in its unyielding, bare surface. The best you can do to help is to hook your fingers around her elbows and pull her back, helping her stay upright

"Fuck me, you feel amazing Jisoo."

"You’re—Jesus—so hard right now ya know?" Jisoo labors to swallow again. "Don’t even think about cumming inside me just yet."

"Honest, I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I put my cock in you."

"Don’t you dare." She turns her to where you can see her face in profile, pulling you forward to kiss and breath heavy against her cheek. "Just shut up and fuck me."

There was hardly any room for misunderstanding in that.

The impact of your hips against hers continues to shake all kinds of curses and whines from her lips. She struggles to keep her head over her shoulder, eventually just resting one side of her face against the cold glass. But still she manages to hold you in her gaze, at least half of it, laboring fruitlessly to keep that usual cool expression from bending and yielding to the pleasure between her legs—incredible how quickly it all begins to fall apart at the seams.

"God! Right there!" she squeals, "it’s so fucking good—" All the words out of her mouth come in various states of composure, some of them airy, some rasped, others staccato and repeating—an utter mess pooling in your ears, but even still, they harmonize perfectly.

"Yes - god - fuck - that’s it." Struggling on her words, she sucks air sharply against her teeth and shuts her eyes tight. "Make me cum again—I’m so close!"

An intense heat smolders from deep inside Jisoo’s cunt, melting and aching around you. You recognize just how badly she needs to cum on your cock all because it’s the exact same chain reaction every time—muscles lock, lips part, eyebrows scrunch, and in a final desperate breath, she finds her lip between her teeth.

You lift yourself as much as Jisoo’s desperate grip on your shoulders will allow and search for her hips with your hands. She squirms as you hold her firm, pushing her tight, quivering body into the glass, and you take the opportunity that only the throes of orgasm might provide—to use her exactly how you need. If she’s going to cum twice, surely you’ve got the green light to have a crack at it once.

The muscles in your legs start to heat and stiffen as you push yourself into that tight warmth more urgent and frenzied than you could ever hope keep up with, but it doesn’t matter—It was never going to take a whole lot to fuck and pump yourself there.

"Jisoo," your voice strains, "I’m gonna—"

"Yeah—do it," she rasps, reaching her hands back and grabbing on tight to your thighs.

You drop your face into the silky hair behind her ear, selfishly taking in the addictive smell of her sweat and perfume. Your balls tense, you find a shallow breath to hold onto, and driving your cock into her again, you bury your cum deep into the tight depths of her throbbing heat.

"There you go. Let it out," Jisoo whispers against the window with a voice grown hoarse. "Cum in me like you always do—fucking fill me up."

You can count the seconds where you’re not sure if you’re alive or dead while you release yourself in Jisoo’s cunt—which by all means, is a warmth, a wetness, a tightness you could live in forever—but the ringing in your ears, the incorrigible knot in your stomach knocking on your throat, you feel yourself returning.

Your muscles burn, the curiously sour stench of sex fills your nose, and you collapse atop the mess you’d turned Jisoo into, the two of you gasping for breath and finding comfort in the cold touch of the window pane.

You share a moment of exhaustion between the two of you. Breaths heave midst your chests and sweat beads at your brow. As quick as it comes, the moment passes. Her hands relax from the makeshift handles she’d found on either cheek of your ass. And with two gentle pats to your rear, she more than makes herself understood.

Jisoo clears her throat. "Alright - get up - I need some water, and then I get to be on top."

—

When you wake up, there’s this mood in the room. Sofa cushions are on the floor, your clothes still trailing from the foyer entry to the window, the wrappers from a late night snack—but of course, as per usual, Jisoo’s nowhere to be seen.

You shuffle your feet from your bedroom door to the kitchen to find a note on the fridge.

"That’s new," you say under your breath, pulling the sticky note in front of your eyes and rubbing the sleep from out of them.

"Had to bounce. Borrowed that book by the way. I need to know what happens—does Jay get the girl of his dreams? Is there a happily ever after? Don’t spoil it for me. I’ll be back to return it soon enough.

Jisoo"

"That woman—I swear," you grumble, "it’s not a happy ending."

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