#over the counter male performance

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper reader x undercover bodyguard bucky)

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

word count: 3.3k

author's note: wow okay this kind of got away from me. this is probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. felt my heartbeat in my pussy while writing this. hope you enjoy!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[babydollmarauders]

OUT — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which everyone has been wondering about the hair tie on Jack’s wrist, and they finally get the answers they were looking for

notes: THANK YOU MADDY ( @thatintrovertedwriter ) FOR THIS IDEA!!! I’M OBSESSED WITH IT!! not proofread and written while heavily sleep deprived

a relationship was never part of my intentions when i accepted my job offer.

in fact, any sort of love was pushed to the far corners of my mind. my focus was on showing everyone that not only men can be equipment managers in the NHL.

i had gone through so much rejection. countless teams citing that they decided to go in a different direction, and hiring a male for the job instead; and though most of the staff would try to deny that my gender was a part of it, there was always that one guy that had no problem with admitting they didn’t believe that a woman had any place in the NHL.

as if the job was hard. as if i couldn’t hand players sticks just as well as any man could.

but then the New Jersey Devils came into play. they had heard some talk about me and were the first team to reach out to me. they offered me the job, and i eagerly accepted. i felt i had something to prove. my gender doesn’t diminish the performance of my job.

so most of the 2022-23 season, i put all my focus into my job. i was amicable with the players, making sure i knew any superstitions or things i shouldn’t do with their equipment, but i never let it pass into any real level of friendship.

and then Jack Hughes happened.

when he got injured and had to sit out for a few games, i was put in charge of keeping him company. for four games my job description changed from handing players new sticks, to babysitting a twenty-one year old, and i wasn’t happy in the slightest.

it felt insulting, and apparently Jack felt the same way. somehow in those four games, we went from sitting across the suite from each other, to bonding over how stupid it was that i couldn’t do my actual job, to forming a friendship.

and in a matter of weeks, our friendship blossomed into something more.

it started with him coming back to my apartment after rough games, watching movies and letting off steam by joking around and playing drinking games. then along the way, we stumbled into bed. one hookup turned into two, which turned into another, which turned into a date, and finally by the end of the season, he was asking me to be his girlfriend.

it took me a week to finally tell him yes. an entire week of struggling with the decision. wondering if, if i start a real relationship with this player, am i proving all those men who told me i had no place in the NHL, right? but ultimately, i decided that my happiness was worth more than someone’s opinion of me, and i told him yes.

***

jackhughes

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jackhughes 3/3

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subbanator 🚀

user83 is he wearing… a pink hair tie on his wrist?

user45 where?

user83 it’s on the same wrist with his bracelets

user16 omg you’re right

user02 is his hair even long enough to put up?

user77 @/user02 apparently

user91 what if it’s a girlfriends? oh my god

brendan.brisson Same time next year

***

i’m running late.

i’m running late and i’m rushing.

i’m running late, i’m rushing, and i’m contemplating breaking all rules of the road to arrive to work on time.

nothing is going right for me today.

i was supposed to have the morning off, so i didn’t set an alarm, but then i woke up to find six missed calls from my boss and a text asking if i could come help get equipment ready for practice because one of the other equipment managers came down with the flu.

then, i had to deal with getting yelled at because i didn’t have my ringer on and therefore, woke up after practice ended and didn’t come in and help.

then, i tipped over my brand new bottle of cold brew and had to spend almost an hour mopping my kitchen floor and wiping down the counters to get rid of the stickiness.

then, at the last minute as i was stepping out the door to head to the arena, my hair tie broke. and now i’ve spent the last fifteen minutes scouring my apartment for a new one, only to come to the conclusion that i have to leave now or else risk being yelled at for a second time today.

i give up entirely on my search for a hair tie, accepting my fate of wearing my hair down and rushing out of my apartment so fast that i almost forget to lock up behind me.

when i finally make it to Prudential Center, i’m able to clock in just before i’d be considered late, and i have absolutely no extra time to search for my boyfriend amidst the chaos of the season opener.

instead, i set off straight to the equipment area, working in tandem with my colleagues to make sure every players gloves, pads, and everything in between is ready, before i put each players gear into their respective locker room stalls.

i stack pucks in a high pyramid at the bench, ready for warm-ups, and line sticks up against the glass behind the bench, all set to be handed out when needed.

amongst the frantic running around the arena and getting things ready, i lose track of how many times i’m adjusting my hair; flipping it over my shoulder and tugging it out of my face.

finally, i get a split second to breathe, pulling my hair up in a makeshift ponytail with my hands as i stand outside the locker room, on standby in case any of the players need me.

“hey.” i instinctively drop my hands at the sound of someone talking, my shirt falling back down to cover the sliver of my abdomen that had shown when they were raised.

at the sight of my boyfriend, i sigh in relief, his chuckle reaching my ears as his arms snake around my waist.

“i scare ya?” Jack teases.

his helmet hits against my back, as he holds it in one hand. he’s all geared up, ready to hit the ice for the first game of the season, and oddly enough, i can’t help finding it incredibly attractive.

“just a little.” i huff, and a wide grin spreads across his lips. i smack his chest, but all that it hurts is his padding. “don’t be mean! i’ve had a bad day.”

his smile drops into an exaggerated pout, and he leans down to press a kiss to my lips.

“i’m sorry, baby.” i hum in acknowledgment, waving it off when he asks if i’d like to rant.

“no, it’s okay. i’ll rant later.” i assure him. “after you win your game.”

“our game.” he states, and i roll my eyes.

he’s made sure to never let me forget how much work i put into the team’s equipment and gear. citing that they wouldn’t be able to win without my help.

in his eyes, it’s as much my wins and losses as it is his.

“right.” i nod, patting his shoulders. “in that case, i’m gonna be very upset if you lose our game.”

his head tips back, laughter pouring past his lips, and it sounds like a melody in my ears.

“i’m confident. we’ll win this game.” he assures me, finally letting go of my waist and backing up. “if we don’t, you and i will never hear the end of it from Larks.”

ahh yes, Dylan Larkin. the Red Wings captain and Jack’s friend, whom i met over the summer while visiting Jack at his lake house.

“go!” i shoo my boyfriend off as the rest of his teammates begin pouring out of the locker room, heading off to line up, ready to hit the ice for warm-ups.

waving to the guys, who smile back at me in return, i head out to behind the bench.

as the guys warm up, i double check the bench stock of smelling salts, tums, stick tape, skate blades, and whatever else the guys may need during the game, before standing idly by.

*

finally, the game is underway, seven minutes left in the second period, and my boyfriend has already gotten a penalty in first for ‘roughing’.

i’m watching my boyfriend skate around the ice as i tend to his teammates, anxiously holding my breath as the clock winds down.

Jack zips across the ice, and i’m gnawing at my lip as he gains control of the puck. but before i know it, he’s just scored his first goal of the season.

a small smile splays across my lips, attempting to contain my excitement as he skates past the bench, bumping fists with his elated teammates before taking another lap around the ice.

Luke turns his head to grin at me, but he’s sidetracked as i’m interrupted by a teammate.

“y/n, can i get some salts?” Timo asks, and i nod, spinning around to grab some, my hair whipping in my face as i do so.

i let out a frustrated groan, turning back around to hand the little packet of smelling salts to number 28.

“you okay?” Timo questions, his brows threading together and i nod.

“it’s my damn hair.” i huff as he moves down on the bench, making room for my boyfriend and his line mates who now join on the bench. “i usually wear it up, but my hair tie broke and it’s getting on my nerves.”

wordlessly, Jack absentmindedly sheds his gloves off, pulling something from his wrist before holding it out to me where i stand directly behind him.

my lips part in surprise as my eyes lock on the pink hair tie that’s pinched between his index finger and thumb.

my hair tie.

“oh.” i breathe out, plucking the hair tie from his grasp. i smile, immediately pulling my hair up into a high ponytail. “thank you, love.”

he turns his head just enough to spot me, beaming back at me for a moment before turning back to focus back on the game that’s about to restart.

i lean forward a little, my hand lightly resting against the padding on his back, but he must feel the slight pressure because he leans back a little to show me he’s listening to what i have to say next.

“congratulations, babe. i’m proud of you.” i speak lowly, only for him to hear, before i stand back again, as though the interaction never happened. both of us focusing back on the game that takes place in front of us.

***

***

Jack lays beside me in my bed, absentmindedly scrolling through his social media, nodding along as i rant about my day.

“…but seeing you in the box was a plus.” i finish off my long winded ramble, effectively gaining his attention back at my teasing.

he locks his phone, tossing it to the side as he looks over at me.

“what was that?” he asks mockingly, raising an eyebrow. but before i can repeat myself, his fingers are working against the bare skin of my stomach.

my abdomen tightens as i laugh, squirming and trying to get away from his touch.

“stop!” i cackle, attempting and failing to push his hands away as he tickles me.

“no, say that again!” he chuckles, maneuvering his body now to straddle my legs so that i can’t run away, even if i wanted to. i shake my head wildly. “say it again! what was that? i don’t think i heard you right! cause it sounded like you just said the highlight of your day was seeing me get penalties!”

“that’s not true!” i squeal and he momentarily ceases his attack, tilting his ear towards me as if he’s listening closer.

“i said they were just pluses.” i defend myself, quickly following up, “the highlight of my day was finding out you wear my hair tie on your wrist.”

he looks down at me with a smirk, obviously quite proud of himself.

“stole that from your apartment.” he announces with pride.

“when?” i laugh, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to mine.

his hands now rest on either side of my head, holding himself up.

“the second time we hooked up.” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to my lips. “you had complained that day when you forgot you hair tie at home. i never wanted you to be uncomfortable again, so i took one when i left here that night.”

i blink back at him in surprise, my heart thumping loudly in my chest, whooshing in my ears.

“are you telling me, you’ve been wearing that hair tie on your wrist, for the past seven months, just in case i ever needed it?” i ask.

“mhm.” he hums, his nose nudging against mine as he nods, the corners of his lips quirking up in a soft smile.

“i’m so in love with you.” i whisper, pulling him down to capture his lips in a kiss.

his lips slot against mine, his tongue slipping in to tangle with mine in a deep and sultry kiss, before he pulls away.

“oh good, because apparently our interaction tonight on the bench?” he pauses and i furrow my brows, nodding for him to continue. “yeah, apparently that happened while the camera was on me.”

a gasp slips past my lips, and he cringes slightly, nodding his head.

“yeah, we’ve been outted.”

we both let that sink in for a moment, pondering what our relationship will be like now that everyone knows. fans certainly analyzing our every move now.

but despite that, we can finally go on dates in public, and post each other on our social medias without panicking that we may have accidentally posted on our public stories instead of our close friends ones.

“i think i can live with that.” i finally break the silence, and he grins.

“yeah?” he questions, pressing a kiss against my lips, and i nod against him.

“yeah.”

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕 ✧

yandere secret agent x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧ 🍸₊˚ ⋆｡ 𖦹 °

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: after taking on your friend's offer to head downtown to a hidden bar, you find yourself in the middle of a covert operation. thankfully Messiah is there to hide you from danger. or did he just push you right into it?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: gn reader, yandere, suggestive position & situation, slight violence, reader held at gunpoint, mentions of a firearm and getting shot, reader pressed against male crotch, sadism(?), auditory hallucination (you hear voices), hair pulling, swearing

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,153 words

⭒ a/n: it was my birthday last month and i had planned to post this by then but ofc i never learn my lesson and kept my drafts in tumblr (leading to it getting deleted) 😭!! so sorry for the wait everyone and happy late new years! :D hope u like the batman wannabe.. it goes from 0 to 100 rq because it's hilarious to me and i'm sleep deprived.. i can smell the hate comments already

will you venture down this path?

it was supposed to be another weekend night spent alone in your home; you, comfortably snuggling against your pillows while playing your favourite brain-rot game from night to morning.

but here you were— unfortunately not in your bed, and devastatingly not romancing your fictional game characters. your friend, Vern, had dragged convinced you to join him and try out some random jazz bar which recently opened.

he mentioned his band would be playing there... he's probably just trying to get more people to hype up his band.

the warm ambience of the bistro & bar, alongside the joyous laughter ringing all over the room, people bantering and simply enjoying each other's presence was enough to erase the thoughts of your usual weekend plans. it was the type of place where you couldn't bring up any negative emotions just because of how chill everyone and everything was. so that's one forgiveness point to your friend.

at some point, Vern had split off from you to meet up with the other Ares band members to go perform— leaving you to drink away your life at the bar.

you channeled your best resting bitch face to avoid any strangers trying to hit on you, which worked. you sat alone listening to the blue voice of the current performer, making small talk here and there with the bartender.

oh, the bartender—

you'd been eyeing him up all night.

he was the only other person at the bar. like all other bartenders, he was charismatic and attractive despite the two deep scars running down his left cheek.

maybe he noticed you looking at it, because he suddenly rasped out, "...animal attack" with a nonchalant smile. which is quite impressive, since your gaze never once lingered on the scars for too long. he must be observing me.

Logan (you read his name tag) was an exceptional conversationist. and he played the bartender role extremely well. he brought up topics like your ambitions, your dreams, and even your darkest passions effortlessly.

but his eyes never seemed to really focus on your figure when you talked.

it was always off to a specific direction in the distance. and when you turned to look at what he was looking at, there would only be the same wrinkly old man sitting on the sofa chair.

"can you see it?"

confused, you reply, "see what?"

do you see it? the eyes? his lack of mouth? with hair as white as his, and skin as dark as void, how can you not see me?

"what the hell are you sayi—" you grow pale when you turn back and see Logan had his back turned away from you the whole time, far from the counter.

who was talking to me?

and for the first time in 3 hours since you've arrived, the old man from the chair moves. he wanders aimlessly for a moment until setting his sights on the bar. multiple random people who were loitering in the room take notice of his sudden movement, and all briskly walk towards him.

you're petrified.

the world is spinning, people are blocking the old man's path from you. and you're so thankful for that because it gives you the time to be pulled on top of the bar counter and then underneath it by a pair of strong hands.

your consciousness recovers and you're met with Logan, body crouched down to your level. his shadowed face shows no semblance of the bright man you were talking to a while ago. now his own icy blue eyes pierced through yours, and the once attractive rasp of his voice is now chilling to the bone.

"Logan—"

"you better fucking shut up unless you want to die."

he pulls out a revolver and points it to your forehead.

profusely nodding your head in understanding, tears begin to prick your eyes; this is so fucking messed up, what is happening??

your brain tells you that this was just the alcohol getting to you, and maybe Logan has some kind of split personality and a murderer... that it's some kind of sick prank Vern is probably pulling on you. maybe my drink got spiked...

but your gut tells you that you are in great danger. alcohol has never made you experience that level of auditory hallucination... hell, you were probably being delusional right now— of course Logan's trying to kill you!!

you could hear the faint sounds of bodies thudding against other people as if they were thrown or pushed. but no screams, just grunts. the loudness of the approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the counter.

you cover your cries as best as you can with your palms and with Logan's hidden weapon still pointed at you. you could so easily whack it away or dodge it. but you stop once you hear the most grotesque voice ever, the result of what sounded like flesh tearing apart and bones reconstructing.

"where... are... they.....?"

you are faced with two decisions:

scream for help and get shot in the head by Logan

scream for help and face whatever the fuck is out there

either way, you don't get to choose. because the stress of the situation is beginning to overwhelm you and soon your whimpers slip out a little. small enough to not be heard from in front of the counter, but big enough for whoever is on top of you— and that someone happened to be the psychopathic bartender.

you freeze.

but your strength alone is not enough to hold back against the veiny hands that grab the back of your hair and push you against the bulge of the man standing in front of you.

you push and thrash over his grasp, but your actions only lead to him digging the lower parts of your face further into his crotch. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING??? IS HE TRYING TO SILENCE ME WITH HIS DICK?!

and it works...

you stay silent and limp, not because of fear. but because of the absurdity of this situation and the slow growth of whatever beast is hiding under those black waiter pants.

the heat of your muffled breath against his privates collects in your face, it's getting too much but you hold yourself together. your hands that were once pushing him off now lay on the top of his hardened thighs.

Logan shares a couple words with the old man before pointing him elsewhere. you catch a strange name falling off the old man's lips, Messiah. fuck, is this a cult? shortly afterwards, you hear the light sounds of evacuating feet. he's finally gone.

and with the speed of a middle-aged lady during black friday sales, you manage to push him off to the side and stand up across him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

you were humiliated, violated, mentally tired and— and—

why the fuck is he blushing.

[user211201]

Listen Up: Swimmer

--- Originally posted on 2021-04-21 by newyoutf ---

Jon twisted back and forth under the showerhead, singing along to the music blasting from his phone on the counter.

The music lowered in volume for a second, making way for two loud dings. Jon reached out from the stream of water and fumbled with the screen in his wet hands. It was a message from Oliver, his best friend, “Hey bro, got something you should listen to.”

“Bro?” Jon wondered. Since when did Oliver say “bro”? Jon blinked, struggling to think for a moment. Oliver talked like that all the time, he was American after all... wasn’t he?

Attached to the message was an audio file. Jon figured it must have been a new song by one of the pair’s favorite pop divas, perhaps a new leaked track. Jon hit the play button, placed the phone back down, and returned to the hot water.

A harsh static buzz and what sounded like garbled speech boomed from the phone, taking Jon by surprise. The corrupted audio cleared up after a moment and a deep, male voice started.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you. Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed.”

“Oliver,” Jon rolled his eyes, thinking that surely something starting this ridiculous would be some sort of joke or meme. After all, Oliver had always been a dumb joker. “Wait,” Jon felt confused, he could have sworn Oliver was a quiet, twinky lad like himself?

Jon realized couldn’t form a solid impression of his friend in his mind. They met at their university in London and became best friends, bonding over their mutual love of pop music and ogling the campus jocks. But now it was like that reality had been shattered. Those memories gave way for ones of meeting each other at the campus gym shortly after Oliver arrived from the US. Oliver was his best, hot, American friend, right? Jon’s cock twitched at the new image of his friend as he placed his face under the stream of hot water in an attempt to clear his head.

“Relax. Take a deep breath, in and out.”

Jon unwittingly followed the instructions. The frown fell from his face and his body relaxed, taking in the warmth of the water.

“You’re Oliver's best friend. Makes sense, given you’re a total alpha too.”

“Both wha- ah! Ah!”, Jon planted his hands against the wet, tiled wall as the words sent pleasure rippling through his body. He looked down feeling a strong warmth against his leg but it wasn’t the hot water. His semi-hard cock had blasted a rope of cum against his leg. “What the fuck?” Jon mumbled.

“What a coincidence that you’re both six-foot-four. It serves him well in the gym, the same way it serves you well in the water.”

Jon howled in ecstasy, spluttering and moaning, as his five-foot-nine body stretched higher. His soft cock drooled hot cum as it rapidly began to rise. His arms pushed against the wall, lengthening for better performance in the pool. He stepped backward as his head struck the showerhead and rose even higher. Hot water poured down the front of his much longer torso and legs.

“Your shoulders are so broad. Typical of you swimming jocks.”

Unable to resist the command, Jon's shoulders crunched and throbbed, thrusting out larger and bulging with muscle. “God! W- What the fuck i- is... ugh... happening?!” he roared, terrified not just by the growth gripping his body, but the incredible pleasure it wrought on him.

“Those are some long, meaty fucking arms, Jon.”

“F- fuck!” Jon roared, spraying a massive load up the back of the shower feeling his narrow arms explode with thick mounds of muscle, rippling across his biceps and triceps. The growth spread down his arms, his forearms bloating with tight, lean muscle. His wrists cracked as they thickened.

“Hands that big must be useful for pushing through the water.”

Stifled screams rumbled from Jon’s tightly clenched mouth. His hands were pressed against the back of the shower, clicking and twitching as they began to swell across the tiles. The fingers accelerated longer and longer. His palms spread monstrously broad. He flexed his hands, in total awe of their disproportionate size; perfect for pushing through the water.

The experience was like nothing Jon ever felt. A sexual eruption taking place across every cell as the words rewrote his body. “Can’t... resist... so g- good,” Jon grunted, gasping for air.

“You clearly work out for the aesthetics as well, not just the pool. Your shredded chest is proof of that.”

Jon couldn’t even attempt to fight anymore, but nor did he want to. His chest puffed and bulged, distorting the path of the water running across it. The previously non-existent pecs pushed outward from his widening chest. His cock trembled as the changes took hold in his abdomen, causing his flat stomach to erupt with tight, thick abs. Jon gripped his ass, feeling it swell into his huge hands while he erupted cum across the tiles once more.

*“That’s the spirit, Jon. You’re a *stud.”

Jon felt those words echo in his ears and rumble down his throat. Grunts and pants became deeper and deeper as his thickened and voice morphed. His head groaned as it enlarged to fit his frame. Hair began to flourish out of his cheeks and across his upper lip while the mop of medium-length hair on his head retreated, leaving a short, handsome cut in its place. He stroked his cock with one hand and clasped his face with the other feeling his jawline refine and the angles of his face sharpen. He turned to the mirror cabinet, seeing just a sliver of his improved visage. Jon gasped at the sight and immediately ejected another load of cum.

He didn’t just look like a swole swimming jock. He felt like one too. He rejoiced in his mind being filled with thoughts of the pool, weightlifting, spotting his bros at the gym, and fucking them afterward.

“Good to see the bottom half matches the top.”

Jon’s legs trembled. He clutched the slippery tiles harder to hold himself up, the pleasure reverberating through his legs almost too much to bear. Muscles spasmed in his calves, swelling with every little twitch. Muscle wasn’t all that was gracing his legs. Dark hair grew forth from the skin, coating his powerful legs in a layer of fur. Jon swore under his breath, impressed by the hair spreading up and down his legs. He thought about how he refused to shave like other swimmers, he liked the hair, and regardless his superior form needed no extra boost. His body responded to the suggestion, triggering a fine layer of hair to sprout from his forearms, between his pecs, in a trail over his abs and across the tops of his feet.

Memories of the pool, the beach, and victories across university swimming tournaments swarmed his brain. Trophies and medals materialized in the bedroom just next to where he was showering.

“Damn, it’s no surprise you outperform everyone in the water with feet that massive. And you know what they say about that, Jon.”

Every one of the toes on Jon’s size eight feet surged with pleasure. He moaned loudly as they began to push across the floor of the shower while his soles stretched to catch up. He recalled new memories of having large feet, how they propelled him to victory in the pool, and the comments people would make: “Bigfoot”, “You know what they say...”, “Where can you even buy size sixteens?”

“Sixteen?!” he repeated in his mind. The brief shock turned to anticipation as he felt his soles continue to march forward longer and wider, his toes twitching while they reshaped long and meaty. Jon growled aloud as he expelled another load, “God, yeah... so f- fucking... big.”

The jock trembled under the stream of hot water, desperate for sexual release. He looked down as the expanding feet settled into excessively large size sixteens, curling his long toes as his six-inch cock began to quiver in its desperation to grow larger as well. It felt as though it were perpetually hardening, only to then push longer and girthier instead. Jon grasped his wet cock and thrust into his grip hard and repeatedly. He relished in the sensation of the veins bulging and the shaft thickening.

*“I guess what they say really is true, isn’t *it?”

The audio toyed with him, pushing his cock just that little bit longer and pumping it ever so slightly thicker. It pulsed and twitched, gradually and slowly with every breath. His uncut, British foreskin slid further backward, as a larger, blunter head swelled outward. Jon smirked as he groaned and growled, stroking faster and faster, enthralled by the beautiful nine-inch weapon he now possessed.

“Cum.”

“Oh yeah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jon made three final long, hard tugs on his thick pole before roaring in delight as unspeakable ecstasy filled him. Cum rocketed upward against the water rushing from the showerhead, ejecting what remained of Jon’s old genetic material while orgasm after orgasm pounded his body.

Exhausted and dripping wet, he stepped slowly out of the tub, unsteady on his new legs and feet.

*“Remember to share this recording with your friends*.”

And with that, the playback stopped. Jon looked at himself in the mirror, still shocked, but enraptured with his new body and looks. He grabbed his phone and wiped the water from the screen, struggling to unlock it with his longer fingers. He typed out a reply to Oliver, “That shit was fucking lit mate!”

A few miles away, a sweaty Oliver was busy lifting weights, waiting for his friend to give him some indication that something had happened. He had to place the weight down slowly as his mind blurred for a moment. He saw the images and memories that he had of his friend change and shift. Gone were the images of a quiet little twink, replaced by those of a loud, masculine swimming jock. Oliver smiled cockily realizing what had just happened. Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated with Jon’s reply. Following was a photo of a huge, semi-hard cock swinging above two gargantuan feet. Oliver felt his own cock stiffen slightly at the image.

“Hell yeah, bro! You should be selling these pics like I do,” Oliver sent in response, getting a deep chuckle out of Jon.

Both men now looked at their phones, horny and pondering who next to share the mysterious audio file with.

[luvkyu]

and i ( zhang hao )

zhang hao x male reader

hao is slightly obsessed with another violinist

content : 1.7k words, fluff, violinist!hao x violinist!reader, music terms, v shy hao, mention of vom!t ( just used as exaggeration )

"make sure you go into a heavier crescendo here, okay? this is the biggest climax of the song."

zhang hao nodded sheepishly. it was hard to stay focused on his violin when his mentor was so attractive. especially while sitting right beside him.

"i think a little more vibrato here would be good too, but you can worry more about the actual notes for now if you like," y/n said with a soft smile as he pointed to the sheet music. he could tell hao was nervous, so he was trying his best to keep a light hearted atmosphere.

"it's okay, i can do the vibrato," hao assured.

y/n smiled and nodded. he liked how determined hao was.

"alright, let's run through it one more time and then we'll be done for the day," y/n said.

hao raised his violin back up, straight posture and impeccable bow hold. y/n smiled in approval before doing the same, the sounds of their strings soon filling the practice room.

hao was a second year in their performing arts college. y/n was a fourth year and a first chair violinist in the school's competitive chamber orchestra. the pair had met during hao's first year, but never exchanged more than a few words.

y/n spent a lot of his time helping struggling first and second years with adjusting to their harder music pieces, so when hao spoke up, y/n was happy to help. now they met about three times a week to practice, and hao just received new sheet music that was a complete eyesore.

"good, that was really good," y/n praised happily. "how're you feeling with this piece so far?"

"it's fun, it's just a lot.." hao replied while loosening his bow. y/n nodded.

"yeah, i know. at least we got through the whole first page today! we'll work on the second one next time."

hao nodded as he began putting his things away. y/n gazed at him for a second, admiring how soft his personality seemed.

"y'know, you're a really good violinist, hao."

hao looked up at him with wide eyes. y/n was standing up now, violin hanging from his fingers and a gentle smile resting on his lips. hao could feel his cheeks turning red.

"..thank you. i really like playing, so that means a lot."

y/n nodded in return. "are you gonna try out for the chamber orchestra next year? they let some third years in."

hao thought about it for a moment. he carefully closed his violin case and latched the locks.

"mm.. i'm not sure."

"well," y/n began, "i think you should. if you want to, of course."

hao blushed and nodded in response. he wasn't really sure how to talk to y/n. not when he had the biggest crush on him known to mankind. he could feel y/n's eyes still on him, and for just a second, he wondered if y/n possibly liked him back.

"anyway, i'll see you back here monday?" y/n asked brightly. hao nodded, trying to give his best smile.

y/n hung his violin case over his shoulder and gathered his sheet music before waving goodbye. hao followed his exit, beginning to walk the opposite way to his dorm.

after finally getting back home, zhang hao threw his bags aside with a sigh. he gave more care to his violin case, setting it down gently. taerae stood in the small corner kitchen with a bowl of food in his hands.

"hey, hao. you good?"

"mm," hao mumbled. he went into the kitchen with the other and took a water from their fridge.

"y/n again?" taerae asked with a small chuckle.

hao nodded, "i'm so into him. i hate it."

"i don't know why you won't just ask him out."

hao shrugged. taerae set his bowl down as he gazed at his roommate. hao was so down bad, and taerae hated that he refused to do anything about it. he rolled his eyes and lightly slapped his hand on the counter.

"alright," taerae declared, "you're coming with me tonight. i'm going to his concert to write a review piece for the school paper, so i can get you a ticket too."

"there's a concert tonight??" hao asked with wide eyes.

"yeah, with the chamber orchestra. how did you not know that?"

"i have no idea. i guess i've been too preoccupied."

"sure, preoccupied with y/n."

"..shut up."

zhang hao was shivering. not because it was cold, but because he was nervous. more nervous than he'd ever been, even on his first day of college. he had a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and his phone in the other with a deathly tight grip. he stood frozen for a moment as he stared at the large theater in front of him.

"hey, relax," taerae's voice cut through his anxiety, "it'll be okay."

hao nodded, trying to let a smile curve on his lips. he could barely see y/n on the stage, as he and taerae were still by the entrance. the orchestra was tuning and warming up, but he could make out y/n's styled hair and pretty smile from far away. he seemed to be talking to the violinist beside him about the sheet music. hao felt his heart swell. seeing y/n in his formal concert attire was almost too much for him.

"c'mon, let's get to our seats," taerae said eagerly. hao nodded again and followed his friend to a pair of seats that were much closer to the stage than he thought.

"oh, he's right in front!" taerae exclaimed quietly, pointing to y/n.

"mhm, he's first chair."

taerae looked over at hao as he looked at y/n.

"taerae?"

"hm?"

"he looks so good i'm gonna throw up," hao muttered. taerae rolled his eyes with a small snicker.

zhang hao took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. he laid the flowers in his lap before rubbing his palms together.

"wait, i think he sees us!" taerae enthused.

hao's head shot back up to find his crush's eyes resting on him. a smile quickly sprouted on y/n's face, keeping his gaze set on hao.

"oh, i hate him.. why is he staring at me like that.."

"cause he likes you, dumb fuck."

hao looked over at taerae with wide eyes before going back to y/n.

"maybe he's just surprised to see me. he didn't know i was coming so.."

taerae rolled his eyes. he watched hao muster up the courage to wave at y/n, the male sending a tiny wave back with his violin bow.

the lights soon died down as the audience began clapping and the conductor made his way out to join the orchestra. hao loved watching y/n become all serious as he lifted his violin to his chin in sync with the others.

throughout the pieces of music, taerae took notes for the school paper, while hao simply sat in awe. he'd seen them perform before, but it was like a new experience every time. the group was so professional and well put together. hao hoped he could be at such a level soon.

by the time it was over, zhang hao was even more of a nervous wreck. he waited with taerae by their seats, pretending to talk until y/n made his way over to them. he was currently traveling through the theater to talk with different people. hao assumed he was thanking people for coming and receiving congratulatory words in return - the usual etiquette that hao found quite tiresome if he was honest.

"hey guys," hao felt his heart quicken as he recognized y/n's voice, "thanks for coming. i didn't expect to see you, but i'm happy you're here."

taerae could tell that was directed more at zhang hao, but he didn't mind a bit. he and y/n were more like acquaintances than friends anyways.

"of course! you guys did really great. the review in the paper will be nothing but good things, i promise," taerae assured.

"thank you, i'm really glad you liked it!"

taerae smiled before turning to hao, "i'm gonna go wait in the car, okay?"

hao nodded in response. he could feel a chill run down his spine as he now faced y/n alone. he felt like melting on the spot. seeing y/n up close in his suit and tie made him feel weak.

"i've never seen you so dressed up. you look really amazing," y/n complimented, as if reading hao's mind.

"thank you," hao blushed, "you do too. i like your suit a lot."

y/n smiled and looked down at the clean black fabric.

"yeah? i always feel kinda weird when i dress up this nicely, but i'm glad someone else enjoys it."

hao nodded. oh, how he really did enjoy it.

"ah- these are for you," hao spoke up as he reached to the seat behind him where he'd left the flowers. y/n's jaw fell open just a bit, blushing a little himself now.

"really? you got me flowers?"

hao smiled and nodded. "you deserve them. i knew you'd be great tonight."

y/n couldn't help but chuckle at how cute the other was. he took the bouquet happily, looking at the flowers before turning his attention back to zhang hao.

"hey, are you doing anything else tonight?" y/n asked. hao's heart picked up once again. he shook his head while trying to hide his growing smile.

"then can i take you to dinner?"

hao almost couldn't believe it.

"really? you mean now?"

y/n nodded confidently, "we're already dressed up, i'm hungry, and i have the prettiest boy in the room to come with me. it's perfect."

hao looked down at his shoes, his smile too much for himself now.

"sure, i'd love to. let me just tell taerae?"

y/n nodded again, "of course. let's go." he offered his hand out, which hao took a bit shyly before he was led out of the theater.

[whateverloomis]

"Scream" (1996) meets "X" || Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x GN!AFAB reader 🔪🔞

PART 3

Warnings: Voyeurism, asphyxiation (use of a belt around neck,) CNC, making out, p in v, oral (male receiving,) roughness, mention of reader and Tatum making out (just girlies stuff :P) AFAB reader (no use of pronouns,) implied size difference, poly!Ghostface, reader has pre-determined interests and outfits, stalking, Sidney is not in the story (sorry not sorry,) || Not edited

Word count: 2.5k

-

You thought about how your scene with Billy would be like. The rush of excitement ran over your body and you started to swing your hips while playing with your tits out in the open.

You chuckled to yourself and were spinning slowly until you were met with Billy's gaze. He was standing on the other edge of the small boardwalk, enjoying the view.

"Mind if I join you?" He said teasingly while walking towards you. You bit your lip and looked at his bulge shamelessly.

"Not at all." You answered and he placed his hands over your waist, squeezing the flesh. "You look so fucking good all alone out here. Naked. Vulnerable." Billy whispered and you couldn't help but release a little whimper.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good for the camera tomorrow."

You had your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Billy and you were both naked in the lake, lost in each other's mouths. You could feel his hard cock pressed against your lower belly and were slowly getting tempted to slip it inside you, but not yet. You wanted to work yourself up to do your best performance for the movie.

"Fuck... Mm Billy," you moaned between kisses. He wasn't answering, his hands were on your ass squeezing the flesh and rocking you against him, your pussy now rubbing against his cock.

Your tongues teased each other and it was driving both of you crazy.

You moved to his neck and started to kiss it slowly, your fingers between his hair pulling the strands softly.

As you were moving your way down to his collar bone your eyes fluttered open. To your surprise an old lady was standing next to a tree at a distance. You gasped in fear and pulled away from Billy's neck abruptly.

"What's wrong?" He asked and noticed you were looking behind him. He turned around and didn't see anything.

"There was an old lady standing right there looking at us!" You said, scared out of your mind.

Billy didn't want to dismiss your words, but he didn't see anyone and he couldn't help but doubt a little bit; "Are you sure it wasn't a tree that moved or-" - "Billy no, I saw her! She looked straight at me!" you explained, breathing quicker with each word.

"Hey, c'mere baby," Billy said and you moved towards him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a comforting hug. "It's okay, I believe you." He said. "Let's go inside so you can eat and take a breather ok?" He continued and you nodded quickly, swimming to the shore with him.

-

"And I saw an old lady looking at me!" You explained to everyone back at the cabin. You were eating sandwiches that Randy made with the few ingredients you guys had brought, drinking and smoking pot around the small coffee table in the living room area.

"An old lady? I didn't see an old lady with pops yesterday." Stu said and Tatum glared at him; "It doesn't mean he doesn't have a wife or something." She said, validating your words.

You sighed and leaned against Billy, his arm around your shoulders.

Randy looked at you with slight judgement written over his face and you caught him red handed.

"What?" You asked him and he visibly panicked.

"Nothing, I didn't say anyth-" - "You were staring. Is there anything you'd like to say?" you countered. All eyes were on him now and he tried to hide the fact that he was anxious.

"I just... I can't stop thinking about Sidney and how you guys..." He trailed off and Billy glared at him. "Yeah? Spit it out." he said and Randy swallowed nervously; "The scene tomorrow with you guys... That's how she'll find out and it's not... It's not okay, in my opinion..." - "It was gonna happen one way or another, who cares at this point?" Stu said and took a swing of his beer. "Plus you can have her afterwar-" - "Stu what the fuck?!" Tatum practically shouted; "She's still our friend, you can't just throw her around like that!" - "Hey, it's a fact!" Stu answered and you rolled your eyes.

"It seems like you don't think our scene is a good idea, but Billy and Tatum fucking is okay?" you told Randy and he looked away. "Are you jealous?" you straight up asked him, mock in your tone.

"No! Why would I be..." He answered and Stu chuckled; "Sounds like Randy wants a little taste of YN." - "Oh shut up! You don't know anything..." Randy said and you smirked; "Is that it, babe?" You asked teasingly, and Billy sighed; "Sorry, off limits." Billy said, breaking the tension. You bit your lip at his words. Billy could be possessive from time to time and it was a turn on.

"Oh but Tatum can make out with YN?" - "It's not serious, it's just friend stuff." - "How does that make sense?!" Randy asked, shocked. You giggled at the whole exchange. It was cute how Randy was jealous about you getting it on with everyone else, yet Billy didn't want him to lay a finger on you.

"Listen, I'll consider it since we need an extra at a point." Stu said and looked at Billy for any sign of approval. He had a serious expression, unamused with the whole situation but not exactly opposed.

"Let's just focus on tomorrow's scene guys, we'll think about this later." You said and everyone agreed.

-

The moment was finally here. Your scene with Billy.

You were wearing jean overalls that hiked up your ass cheeks. No underwear on which allowed the perfect amount of side boob to show. You were looking delicious and ready to be devoured.

As you walked in the barn everyone complimented you and whistled. You blushed and bit your lip in excitement. Billy smirked at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him and kissing you slowly. Stu chuckled at the sight and eyed you from head to toe before positioning the camera towards the stall you were going to be in.

"You ready, babe?" He asked and you nodded.

Action.

You bent down to pick up a bucket of water from the stall. As you were standing up and turned around you were faced with Billy. Crashing into him, you dropped the bucket, water spilling all over you guys. Billy's white shirt got wet and you scrambled around the place to find a towel to help him dry up.

"Oh my Gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..." You trailed off. Billy was taking his shirt off and you raked your eyes over his upper body. You walked towards him and ran your hand up his exposed chest.

"I can dry your shirt for you... If you'd like." You said, faking innocence.

"If it's not too much trouble." Billy answered softly and took a step forward, towering over you; "You should also dry this while you're at it..." He said and slid the straps of your overalls down your upper body, revealing your tits. The cool air made your nipples harden immediately and Billy brushed his fingers over them. You bit your bottom lip and whimpered quietly.

You looked up at him with the cutest stare and he crashed his lips against yours, pushing you against the wall. His hands explored your body and grabbed every inch of you. You moaned against his mouth and ran your hands through his hair.

You guys devoured each others mouths for what seemed like forever before Billy pulled your overalls all the way down and ran two fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you already were. He hummed at the feeling and drew slow circles over your clit before dipping his middle and ring finger inside you. He didn't push them all the way inside you just yet. Billy collected your wetness and spread it over your sensitive bud before dipping his fingers in once again and repeating the actions far too many times for you to control your moans.

"Mm fuck... Please..." You whispered and moved your hips forward against his fingers, needing them to go inside you deeper, and that's exactly what Billy did. He inserted them all the way inside your cunt and you released a long moan of relief and pleasure.

Billy finger fucked you almost passionately. With his other hand he grabbed your neck and held you in place, kissing you once again. You both moaned inside each others mouths and played with each others tongues.

Desperate, you started to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, releasing his cock. Before stroking his length Billy pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt and ran the slick over his shaft. You jerked him a few times before kneeling down and sticking your tongue out for him.

Billy smirked and placed his hand on your cheek; "Aren't you a cutie?" he teased and moved his hand to your jaw, opening your mouth a bit more before resting his heavy cock on your tongue and slowly thrusting it inside of you.

You moaned around him and started to bob your head, following his rhythm. As you sucked on his cock slowly you grabbed his thigh with your left hand and scratched the flesh just enough to elicit pain with your long nails. Billy hissed at the sensation and his cock twitched inside your mouth. You hummed around him and took more of his length inside, brushing your tongue under his shaft.

"Fuck, you're so good at that..." Billy whispered and grabbed a fist full of your hair, keeping you steady.

You could feel him getting close but you had a feeling he was going to play with you some more, and that he did.

Pulling out of your mouth, Billy pulled his pants up and removed the belt from the loops. He grabbed your arm with enough force to make you stand up and wrapped the belt around your neck, making sure it wasn't too tight; "Is this okay?" he asked, loud enough for you to hear and you nodded.

"Walk." Billy commanded and you did as he said. Suddenly he pushed you against a big wooden table and made you bend down. You grunted, exaggerating it for the camera.

He spread your thighs with one of his legs and sneaked his right hand between your legs once again, holding the belt to keep you in place with his left. You whimpered at the feel of his fingers rubbing your clit once more. You were soaked and Billy couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that it was all for him, thanks to him.

"Fuck, you're more than ready for me." He said, his voice low. You bit your lip and moaned at his words, cock hungry and desperate.

"Mm fuck me, pleaseee," you moaned, desperation evident in your tone.

Billy pulled his cock out and moved between your legs, rubbing his length between your folds further stimulating your clit. You rubbed yourself against him, the sound of your juices mixed with his making obscene sounds. You panted and moaned pornographically, the pleasure so intense you could cum just from that action only but Billy wanted to give you more. Needed to give you more.

The feel of his cock finally sliding inside you smoothly and filling you up deliciously made you practically scream.

Billy thrust like there was no tomorrow, the sound of skin to skin contact echoed inside the barn and Stu was biting his lip, trying to contain a laugh of satisfaction at the scene taking place in front of him.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out while Billy railed you. He pulled the belt around your neck slightly to keep you in place and choke you just enough to elicit pleasure. You were getting fucked like a dirty little slut and you loved every second of it.

Billy's cock felt incredible. The way it grazed your walls made the wave of pleasure be felt all over your body. It was almost a tingly sensation that consumed you. That, combined with his fingers now rubbing your sensitive bud slowly? It was over for you.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Don't stop!" You moaned loudly and Billy pulled the belt once more before you came around his length. Not much after he came inside you, filling you to the brim. The feel of him emptying himself inside you made you have yet another orgasm for the camera and Billy bit his lip, trying to suppress a satisfied laugh from escaping.

Once he pulled out, his juices dripped out of your cunt beautifully and Stu closed up on your hole much like he did with Tatum to get the perfect shot of your glistening cunt.

Turning around and facing Stu, he had the widest grin and satisfaction written all over his face, "That was fucking amazing! You look so fucking hot YN, wait until you see yourself!" he said excitedly and you blushed at his praise.

You brushed the sweat of your forehead with the back of your hand and bit your lip while smiling at Billy who was walking towards you.

"You did so good for us baby'" he said and kissed you slowly, "Mm, you weren't so bad yourself," you said teasingly while Billy took his belt off from around your neck; "Yeah yeah, now you need to rest." He said and you rolled your eyes; "More like take a shower." You answered.

"Oh! I'll join you, this heat is disgusting." Tatum added and walked away, a paper fan in her hand. You kissed Billy one more time before following her.

The way Randy looked at you didn't go unnoticed. He had "this isn't fair," written all over his face and you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

•

In the shower, you and Tatum made out a bit before sharing the only bar of soap available. Once you were done, you looked outside from the shower window, hot water soothing your body.

"Hey, have you seen that creepy old lady again?" Tatum asked while she washed her hair. You continued looking outside in thought and sighed; "No. I'm starting to think I imagined her or something," - "Didn't Billy see her too?" she asked, stepping under the water stream and rinsing her hair. "No, he didn't," you replied and sighed. "Well, maybe he just didn't turn around quick en-" the blonde stopped mid sentence and focused her gaze outside the window... and there she was. The old lady. Standing there, a few feet away, staring.

You both looked at her and gasped in fear; "What the fuck..." Tatum whispered and you looked at each other at the same time, shocked. When you turned your heads to look out the window again, she was gone.

"Oh, oh hell no." Tatum said and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her figure. You followed behind, doing the same before exiting the door after her.

Once you walked outside you crashed into Stu's lean figure; "You guys had fun in there?" he asked, sticking his tongue out at you and you sighed; "Not now Stu, Tatum saw the creepy old lady too. She was standing outside the window, staring at us!" You nearly shouted and Billy walked towards you quickly; "Hey, what's going on baby?" he asked, concerned; "Tatum and I saw..." You trailed off, tears escaping your eyes.

Something didn't feel right since the moment you set foot in that cabin and Billy quickly caught on to your concern. "C'mon, let's go'" Billy whispered and glared at Stu before walking you into the bedroom.

"What did I do?!" Stu shouted and scoffed, walking into his own room.

-

AN: We love a creepy old lady moment, lol. Let me know what you guys thought about part 2! And thank you for the love on the first part babes ;) <33

[darkbluekies]

Like magic — part 2/end?

Part 1

Male!yandere x female!reader x female!yandere

Summary: after waking up from a coma like state, you find out that people are dying around you ... and they all seem to have a connection to you

Warnings: death, blood, typical stuff, abusive household

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: I feel that the ending got rushed, but I didn't know what I was going to write! Apologies. And for the moment, this will be the end of the series, but if I ever want to do another part, I will<3

Taglist: @yandere-city2 @svinxie @yumeneji @spitakgini

"Have you ever had a dueling class?" Hedwig asks.

"No, never", you reply nervously, thinking of everything Edmund told you about it.

"It's going to be fine. We're not even sure if they're going to pick you for demonstration!"

"I'm happy that Edmund isn't in this class or I'd be dead."

The mention of his name makes Hedwig quiet.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hedwig", you say. "I know you don't like to talk about him."

"You seem to like it …"

"What? No! He just annoys me so I can't forget him. He's taken over my brain like a virus."

Hedwig sighs and hugs your arm.

"I don't like him at all", she mumbles. 

You enter your very first dueling class and watch how the professor start to talk about different spells (most you've never even heard of).

"I need two participants", he says and looks around for faces. "Arthur and Y/N, please."

You can feel Hedwig stiffen against your arm. You feel your blood go cold.

"B-But professor-!" Hedwig starts.

"No buts, come up here now, Y/N", the professor demands.

You have no other choice than to step up on the stage-looking plateau. Hedwig watches in horror with her hands clasped over her mouth. You pick up your wand. 

"Professor!" Hedwig tries again, but once again she's dismissed.

You're supposed to protect yourself from a spell you have never heard about before, but since you neither know the spell nor the counter spell, it hits your body like a thousand needles. Suddenly, everything seems to go in slow motion. You're flung against the stone wall. The air gets knocked out of your lungs and your head starts to pound thickly. Everything turns dark.

Hedwig screams and runs over to you.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" she gasps. "Y/N answer, please!" She turns to the professor. "I tried to warn you! She doesn't know any dueling spells! Now look at what you did!"

The professor stands there sheepishly, and Hedwig wants nothing more than to swing her wand and do as much damage as she possibly can.

A few students help Hedwig carry your unconscious body to the hospital wing where your bloody head is wrapped in bandage. You're tucked in under white sheets. Hedwig sits by with tears running down her cheeks. She holds your hand tightly. 

Edmund sighs and turns the page. Idiocy, all of it. He doesn't want to read about spells, he wants to perform them.

"Did you hear?" a voice says to someone else. "The transfer student in third year got abominated during duel class."

The school only has one transfer student. Edmund shuts the book and flies up towards the Hufflepuff student talking bullshit.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks. "Don't talk so much shit. Spit it out."

They seem to flinch upon seeing him. Edmund's made sure that people know you belong to him.

"The transfer student, she's in the hospital wing", the hufflepuff boy says, ashamed by now.

Edmund feels how his heart stops beating. No way. Not you. He gives the Hufflepuff boy one last glare before running off. He bumps into multiple people on his way, but doesn't stop to excuse himself.

Hedwig looks up when she hears someone rip the door open and run in. Edmund's face is paler than usual and for once, there's something desperate in his icy blue eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" he pants and walks to the other side of the bed. 

"The professor didn't listen to me when I tried to tell him that Y/N doesn't know any spells", Hedwig sniffles without taking her eyes off of you. "She got flung against the wall and must have hit her head really hard."

"I'm going to kill him."

Hedwig sobs and rests her forehead down on your hand. 

“Stop doing that”, Edmund mutters and pulls her head back before wiping your hand. “Your face oil is getting all over her.”

"What if she never wakes up again?"

"Stop talking such nonsense, of course she will."

But he can't help feeling worried.

"Alright, students", the working nurse says, "you cannot stay here any longer, the patient needs to rest."

"I'm staying", Edmund says sharply.

"I'm staying too!" Hedwig insists.

"No, you have to listen to the rules. You can visit miss Y/N later."

They are about to resist once more, but are forced out and the doors close behind them.

"What a prick!" Edmund mutters and starts to walks off.

"Edmund, wait … please", Hedwig sniffles. "Please help me."

He frowns and turns around.

"I can't let that boy get away with it", she whimpers. "But I can't do it alone. Please … help me. Please."

“You want … me … to help … you?” he asks, confused. “Have you lost your little sugar, honey mind?”

Hedwig sobs and shakes her head. “No. Please, Edmund. I can’t do it myself, I don’t have the heart to do it. But I know you do.”

“How would you know that?”

“Don’t lie. I know that you have the tattoo on your arm. Everyone knows who your parents are and what they’ve done.” She snuffles and wipes her nose. “It doesn’t matter if they lie. Everyone knows.”

Edmund hushes and covers her mouth with his hand. Hedwig’s eyes widens. 

“Be silent, will you?” he hisses. “Fine, I’ll do it … not because you tell me to, but because Y/N needs to be revenged — and because I’m fucking pissed.”

“Thank you, nonetheless.” She takes a deep breath. “If you … if you do it, I will make sure to cover it up.”

“Deal.”

When you wake up, you can feel a harsh pounding in the back of your head, harsh enough to split your skull open. You open your eyes slightly, letting just enough daylight in to be able to locate yourself. The hospital wing. 

Why am I here?

You suddenly remember, and it sends a new painful wave through your brain. Carefully, you sit up and look around, wishing to see Hedwig, but there’s noone. 

Suddenly, a few teachers rush in with a body in their arms. The boy who you had dueled with — Arthur, you believed his name to be — gets thrown onto a bed and covered with a sheet. A shiver runs down your spine. Whatever that was about, you don’t want to be included. 

“Excuse me?” you say hesitantly, gathering the attention of the nurse. “Could you help me?”

“Yes of course”, she answers and hurries over. “You’re finally awake, I’m happy to see that. How are you feeling?”

Dismissing her question, you ask her to bring you Hedwig. And Hedwig you receive, along with the black haired devil. 

“Oh, Y/N!” she shouts in relief and wraps her arms around you. “Oh, how happy I am to see you awake! You worried me sick.”

You hug her back, weirdly scared. You have no idea how long you’ve been unconscious for, or what has happened to you while you were out. Hedwig’s ripped off of you and suddenly, you feel Edmund’s firm, muscular arms around you. He holds your head into his chest, breathing out slowly. 

“I told you that you didn’t want to end up in the hospital wing”, he mumbles and sighs out, cupping your cheeks. “From now on, I won’t let you anywhere out of my sight. Since miss princess over here can’t keep an eye on you, I have to do it.”

“Excuse me?” Hedwig scoffs. “Do you think I wanted Y/N to get hurt? I tried to tell the professor-!”

“I don’t care, halfblood. If I were there, I wouldn’t have let that happened! I would have dueled the damn professor myself.” He turns to you and kisses your forehead. “My dear, Y/N. I will never let anyone touch a hair on your head again, do you understand me?”

You nod, confused. 

“Good”, Edmund smiles and stands up. “What should we do with you now?"

"Are you allowed to leave?" Hedwig asks softly and you nod. She takes your hands. "Let's go eat something. You can sit at my table."

You come with her to the great hall and sit down by the hufflepuff table. Edmund refuses to be seen beside the students wearing yellow and black uniforms and retreats to the Slytherin table. 

“Here you go, sweetheart”, Hedwig says and starts to fill a plate for you, giving it over. “Eat a lot, okay? You have been skipping multiple days now that you’ve been in a coma — or whatever that was. You have multiple days to make up for, eat up.”

“Thank you, Hedwig, that’s very nice of you”, you reply and watch the mountain of food on your plate. 

Hedwig insists on feeding you, as if you were a baby. You don’t mind. After waking up all alone in a foreign room, without any knowledge of what has happened or how long you’ve been gone, being babied doesn’t sound too bad.

The entire hall is glancing at you and you realize that if there ever was the slightest chance of staying single in the public’s eyes, you were sealed to Hedwig by now. 

Your stomach starts to hurt not long after. It has shrunk in size.

“It hurts”, you say and clutch your stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up if I eat more.”

“But … but …”, Hedwig stutters, completely baffled. 

“Hedwig, I love the food, I really do … but if I eat more for now I’m going to puke.”

“I’ll … I’ll save it then!” she says happily. 

She puts the bread in a napkin and puts it in the pocket of her cloak. You’re pulled up from the bench by her arm and taken out into the corridor.

“Let’s go out into the fresh air to get you feeling better”, she smiles.

You nod, following Hedwig wherever she takes you. A fresh wind clears your lungs.

"I hope you know that I'm so happy that you're okay", she says and holds your hand while you're walking, side by side. "I got so scared. You know that I would do anything for you, right?"

You nod again.

"When I say that, I really mean it. Nothing is too much for you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Hedwig smiles and hugs your arm tightly.

“You should come over to my house someday”, she says. “I would show you so much stuff that you have never seen before. You’re missing out on a lot by being born into a muggle family.”

“I would like very much to go to your house”, you say quietly. “I don’t want to go home.”

She stops. “What? Why?”

“Well … you know … I don’t want to go home.”

She frowns when you shrug awkwardly. You’ve hinted about your home life numerous times, but you’ve never told her the entire reason. Should you?

“Why?" she asks. "Why don't you want to go home?"

"I'm scared that they won't let me go back."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I'm sure that they'll understand."

"No, Hedwig, they won't. They locked me in my bedroom every year to make sure I wouldn't get here. I picked the lock this time. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"Are they bad people, Y/N?"

"Well … I don't know. They're not mean but … if I say anything that goes against their rules or their wishes, they punish me greatly.”

"How?"

“You’d be surprised at how creative they are.”

“I see.” She smiles softly and caresses your cheek. “You have nothing to be worried about, I will take you in. You can move into my house.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to be a bother to your parents.”

“They’re rarely home anyway, they wouldn’t even notice.” She gasps and looks at her watch. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I have to go! I have class in five minutes. Please find me after class, we can meet in the library. I love you, Y/N, bye!”

She kisses your cheek and runs. You watch her until she disappears into the castle. The headache returns and you press your palms to your forehead, giving out a small sigh. Did your brain disconnect from the skull in that fall?

There’s too many people around you, too many sounds. You start to move back towards the castle when you’re stopped by a couple of students. They’re younger than you, but smirk like adults. 

“Aren’t you the third year that can’t duel to save your life?” one of them taunts. 

You’re taken aback, not knowing what to respond. They laugh among themselves, enjoying your embarrassment. You glance down at their robes. All from different houses.

Suddenly, their smiles disappear and they fixate on something behind you. You turn around, seeing Edmund with his two minions. 

“Bet you’re feeling tough, huh?” Edmund asks coldly. “Picking on someone that just came out of the hospital wing? Fuck off.”

The younger students glare at him, but listen and leave. You can feel Edmund’s hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, transfer student”, he says, “you shouldn’t wander around right after waking up from a coma. Did you lose braincells when hitting your head?”

“No”, you sigh and hold your hand on your head. “But it does hurt. A lot. All sounds make my brain pound.”

Edmund covers your ears with his hand, gives you a small nudge in the back with his knee to make you walk. He brings you to an empty corridor and sits you down on the floor. 

“Did you know those kids?” he asks. 

“No”, you shake your head. 

“I knew one of them”, one of his friends says. “Won’t be too hard to figure out who the others are.”

“Good”, Edmund says and sits down beside you, bringing you close to him. 

You frown in confusion as he wraps his cloak around you and puts your face on his shoulder. 

“Let’s rest here for a bit”, he says. “Don’t move. Sleep if you want.”

 The food swelling in your shrunken stomach and the loud noises have brought you back to exhaustion. You find yourself drifting off in his hold. Edmund sits with you, holding you closely. Every time someone walks by, he holds his hand over your ears to make sure they won’t wake you up. His friends chase them off. 

“Of course you had something to do with it”, he hears a voice say after a while. 

“No need to be snarky, Hedwig”, Edmund says without lifting his eyes from you. “I helped you kill that Arthur boy, the least you can do is thank me.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

Hedwig sits down beside the two of you and caresses your hair. 

“We have more to take care of”, Edmund says lowly. “Some embarrassing kids tried to embarrass Y/N. If you can find out who they are, I will take care of them.”

“Sure, it wouldn’t be too hard.” Especially with her contacts.

Things start to happen the following weeks. People you have talked to or that have been close to you have disappeared from the school or ended up dead in the hospital wing. You have done everything in your power to not blame yourself for the weird disappearances. It has to be a coincidence, you tell yourself. It can’t be your fault.

“Why that look?” Edmund asks and pokes your shoulder. 

You haven’t even realized that you’ve been staring in front ot you, completely missing what the teacher has said the last half an hour. 

“I feel weird”, you whisper. 

“Why?” Edmund asks, confused. 

“Haven’t you realized that people have died or disappeared?”

“I haven’t thought about it too much. It doesn’t interest me.”

“Oh …”

You look down in your lap where your nails scratch at each other.

“Why are you putting so much thought about it?” Edmund questions. 

“I’ve talked to them all … they’ve disappeared or died after they’ve been in my presence. Do you think it has something to do with me?”

“You think everything has to do with you.”

“I do not!”

The teacher scolds you for raising your voice and disturbing the class. Edmund smirks for himself. It stays on until you’re let out of the classroom. 

“Wait, Y/N, can you stay for a moment?” the teacher asks. 

You nod and walk over with Edmund behind you. 

“The headmaster wants to talk to you”, the teacher says. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Why?” Edmund demands to know. 

"It's urgent. Please hurry to his office.”

You give Edmund a nervous glance and hurry out. He follows closely with a cold look on his face.

“What do you think could have happened?” you ask him while rounding the corner.

“No idea”, he responds shortly. “But if they're trying to put you in trouble I'm snapping their necks.”

You can feel him take your hand tightly. You'll end up with bruises, you're sure.

The headmaster's office is dimly lit. He sits behind the desk with a worried look in his eyes. It only makes you even more terrified.

“Y/N, good”, he says and sits up straight. “I have some very serious matters to discuss with you. I see that you brought your friend.”

Edmund looks greatly offended at his title.

“What is it?” you ask carefully. 

“I'm sure that you haven't missed the unfortunate death of some of our students during these last few weeks … and they've all linked with you somehow-”

“Do you think she has killed them?” Edmund bursts out angrily.

“I did not say that. Please calm down. What I am saying is that the murders are linked with you somehow and to prevent more innocent students from death, we'll have to suspend you for a while.”

His words hit you like a missile in your chest. 

“What?” you ask quietly. “Suspend me? I haven't done anything wrong!”

“I know, Y/N, but we need to catch this murderer before he does more harm and with you here, we risk even more lives.” 

“How do you even know that Y/N is linked, hm?” Edmund questions snarky.

“Well, we're not one hundred percent sure, so sending Y/N home will determine if the murderers had anything to do with her or not. You'll take the train tomorrow evening. I'm sorry, Y/N.”

You can't seem to move, wondering if someone has put a spell on you. Your head pounds, and you start to wonder if you're hallucinating, almost hoping for it. Edmund leads you out to the corridor and grabs your shoulders to force you to look at him.

“You haven't done anything wrong, do you understand that?” he asks you harshly. 

You nod carefully.

“I don't want to go home”, you shake your head quickly as tears form in your eyes. 

“You’ll be back soon enough. When they realize that you have nothing to do with it, they have to bring you back.”

But you have to go back, and you know better than to argue with grown ups. Whether you want to or not, you’re on the train the next day, with all your belongings. Hedwig and Edmund are standing on the station, waving you off. 

“This fucking sucks”, Edmund mutters, watching the train leave. 

“I’m so worried for her”, Hedwig says shakily. “I hope that they’re not mean to her.”

“Who?”

“Her parents.”

Edmund stares at her in shock, almost fear. “What about her, parents, Hedwig?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Y/N told me that they’re creative with … punishments. They didn’t want her to come here … and now that she’s been gone for half a semester, I’m scared what they’re going to do to her once she comes back. She might not be allowed to come back … or they might hurt her.”

“Not on my fucking watch.”

He starts to walk back towards the school.

“What are you going to do?” Hedwig shouts behind him.

Edmund stops and walks back to her with burning, icy eyes. 

“I am going to get Y/N out of that house and you are going to keep killing here”, he says sharply. “Do you understand that, halfblood?”

“Me?!” Hedwig almost screams. 

Edmund covers her mouth with his hand. 

“Shut up”, he orders her, “or else the entire country will hear you.”

She removes his hand forcefully and glares at him. 

“Edmund, I can’t kill anyone”, she hisses. 

“Oh, you fucking can”, Edmund scoffs. “I know you’re not all nice. Don’t even try. You had no problem threatening me on on the quidditch court. You have no remorse when you give me information on the people that I kill. You can do it too, stop pretending to be some weak lamb.”

Hedwig doesn’t answer. 

“Why do I have to keep killing?” she mutters. “Y/N’s gone.”

“Because she won’t get to return otherwise”, Edmund replies. “If the headmaster realizes that the murders really do link with Y/N, she’ll never get to come back — they might even think it was her that killed them … and then she’ll be sent to Azkaban. Is that what you want?”

Hedwig shakes her head quickly. 

“That’s what I thought”, he says. “My friends will help you kill whoever you need to. I am going to go get Y/N.”

“I know the muggle world better than you. Why can’t I go get her and you stay?”

“Because I don’t fucking trust you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t care.”

With that said, he walks away, leaving Hedwig alone on the platform. 

You cry the entire way back. You haven’t done anything, why are you getting punished? It’s not fair. Now you’re getting sent back to your parents while the murderer is still allowed to roam the halls of Hogwarts. You’ll never be allowed to go back. 

When the train stops, you’re met by your parents outside the window. You remain in your seat. They go on board to get you when they realize that you refuse to come out. 

“Y/N, get up”, your mother says coldly. “Stop being childish.”

You don’t look at them, don’t answer. Your father grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you up from the seat. 

“Don’t touch me!” you shout. “I can walk by myself.”

You press yourself past them and walk out on the platform. The entire ride home is silent, but you know that the second the front door closes, you’ll know what hell feels like. And you’re of course right, because the second your father locks the front door behind you, you feel a slap over your cheek. With wide eyes, you back away and put your hand on your cheek. They have never put their hands on you. They have done countless embarrassing and hurtful punishments, but they have never hurt you physically. Not like this. if you weren’t stunned, you’d scream at them. 

“I don’t even want to look at you”, your mother says in disgust and walks into the living room. 

“Just go to your room and stay there”, your father says in the same manner. “I will confiscate all of your ‘magic’ supplies.”

You don’t question them and walk upstairs. The second you close your bedroom door behind you, you break out into sobs. You knew that this would happen at the end of the year, but you had wished that you could have stayed a semester, at least. It’s not fair. 

You sink down on your bed and hide your face in your hands and you sit like that for who knows how long. The sky turs dark and the moon greets you, but you ignore him. You don’t move out of your spot, not even when your stomach starts to growl. 

Suddenly, you can hear a crash from downstairs. Quickly, you stand up and are about to run over to the door, when you remember your parents. You don’t want to go downstairs and show them that the loud sound worried you. They don’t deserve that after what they’ve done. Instead, you cross your arms and lay down in bed, curling up in to a ball with your back towards the door. You shut out the sounds from downstairs, humming for yourself to drown them out. 

When you hear your door open, you’re too scared to turn around. 

“Y/N.”

Edmund? You turn around and see him standing in the doorway, blood dripping from his hair and covering his cloak. He smiles when seeing you, the first genuine smile you’ve ever seen him wear. He hurries over to you and hugs you tightly. You’re smushed against his chest and can feel his hands everywhere. His bloody hands. 

“W-What have you done?” you stutter into his neck while trying your best to push him off. 

“I’m here to save you!” he says. “Hedwig told me about your parents. They won’t keep you captive anymore.”

“What have you done?!”

You manage to push him off. He looks confused. 

“They were being mean to you, Y/N”, he says in a questionable manner. “They’ve hurt you. Your cheek …”

You can’t understand how he can sense a redness in the skin.

“What have you done?” you ask, quieter this time. 

“I’ve killed them”, he says firmly. “I killed them without magic. Just how mudbloods deserve to be killed.”

Your eyes widen. Your body goes cold at the thought of Edmund taking someone's life. It doesn't matter if he thinks that he's doing you a favor, the action itself is enough to make you mortified. You try to crawl back on the bed, but your head hits the wall, trapping you. Edmund grabs your leg and pulls you back, closer to him. 

“Don’t run away from me”, he tells you. “Not now. I came all the way here to help you.”

“How did you even get here?” you sob. 

“My father helped me. Now come here-”

You start to claw at him when he tries to pick him up, accidentally revealing the tattoo on his wrist. You stop dead in your tracks and he’s quick to pull his sleeve down. 

“Hedwig was right”, you pant. “You fucking monster!”

“Monster or not, I saved you”, Edmund reminds you and takes your moment of surprise to his advantage, pulling you over his shoulder. “Now we’re going.”

You start to scream and kick, so he wrestles you down on the floor in the corridor, picks something up from his pocket and pours something in your mouth. A liquid reminding you of Hedwig’s love potion. You cough to try to get it up, but Edmund covers your mouth with his hand and dictates it upwards, so you’ll have no other choice but to swallow the unfamiliar liquid. You feel your body grow numb in a minute. Your eyes are still open, you can still hear, but you can’t move. 

“Sorry for that, Y/N”, Edmund pants and picks you up again. “But you can’t behave. And I need you to be quiet.”

When he carries you downstairs, you can see the bloody bodies lying on the floor with limbs in positions and directions they definitely shouldn’t be in. You want to scream, but you can’t move. 

Edmund carries you out to something looking like a car, but you can telly hat it isn’t. It looks more like a carriage. He has a chauffeur in the front who starts to drive when Edmund has sitten down with you in his lap. The carriage flies, you notice when you spot your roof outside. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, Edmund says and brushes the hair out of your face. “I didn’t want to numb you, I hope you know that.”

How fucking could you?

“Don’t give me that look.”

You killed my parents, you swine.

Edmund sighs and covers your eyes with his hand. He soon removes it when he feels water against his palm.

“Y/N, don't cry”, he sighs. “Why are you even upset? They wouldn’t let you come back to the place you belonged … they hurt you. Stop looking at me like I’m the bad guy here. Yes, I killed them but I did you a favor.”

He doesn't say more until the carriage stops outside of a dark house. Edmund carries you inside (where it's just as dark), up a pair of marmot stairs and into a bedroom. You can tell that it's his right away by the moving pictures of dark wizards on the wall. He lies you down on his bed and sit by your side, caressing your cheek until the potion is diluted enough in your blood for you to move. It won’t be fully gone until it has exited your body. You sit up and look around, feeling his eyes on you. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask quietly. “Did you kill all the others too? In school?”

Edmund nods. 

“You fucking creep”, you breathe out. 

Edmund scoffs, but doesn’t answer. “Aren’t you happy I killed them for you? Your parents are awful. They hurt you, they didn’t see your potential.”

“They were my fucking parents …”

“And they hurt you.”

Silence. 

“Your tattoo …”, you say hesitantly. “Why?”

Edmund covers his wrist with his hand, even though his shirt already hides the tattoo.

“What should I have done, do you think?” he asks. “When all around me want me to have it? Say no? And be discarded by everyone? I don’t think so.”

“You’ve sold your soul. You’re a monster.”

Edmund doesn’t answer. 

“Your family hates people like me, don’t they?” you ask. “What if I tell your father that you’re having me here? That his pureblood son is killing for a mudblood?”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare. In that case, he kills both of us, smartass.”

“I want Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s in on it too.” Edmund smiles. “Face it, darling, your parents would die sooner or later.”

It hits you that you’re an orphan now. You’re all alone. No house, no family … and apparently no friends. 

You’re allowed to return to Hogwarts a month later. Edmund brings you with him, holding you tightly by his side. 

“Y/N!” Hedwig shouts and runs over to you, hugging you tightly. “Sweetheart!”

You don't move. Hedwig pulls back and looks at you worriedly.

“What's wrong?” she asks.

“She knows”, Edmund says shortly.

“Oh … b-but you know that we did it for you, right? Y/N?”

“You disgust me”, you whisper. “Both of you.”

“Well, too fucking bad”, Edmund says. “You're stuck with us now. Tell anyone and I'm going to bring you back home. You want to stay here, don't you?”

You nod shortly.

“Then behave”, Edmund tells you.

“You'll not have a hard time doing that”, Hedwig smiles sadly and caresses your cheek. “You're such a lovely girl.”

You want nothing more than to wake up from this bizarre nightmare. Why did they have to ruin your magical place?

[snowball-doie]

୨୧ Making sub!Jeno squirt ୨୧

| pairing: sub!Jeno x Dom!gn!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. NSFW link. Public play. Exhibitionism kink. Intoxicated while performing consensual sexual acts. Jerking off. Male squirting. Nicknames (Reader calls Jeno "puppy").

| wc: 1.3k

| aurora's note: My cute lil birthday week post for my first NCT moot @hisunflower

When Jeno introduced the idea of going to the club together, you thought it was a bit silly, but you inevitably gave in. He had fun messing with you on the dance floor. He'd bring over a drink for you to sip on while he was up behind you, one hand on your hip to keep you close to him while he grinded his growing erection against your ass, slowly grunting in your ear, humming along to the music. He knew better than to get himself off without permission. But the alcohol was impeding his ability to remember simple rules, like no touching you without permission, no getting himself off without permission, and no cumming without permission. Good news for him was that he hadn't yet gotten to the last part, and you were entertained by the second part because of his pathetic humping and moaning, so you let him continue to guide your hips to the beat of the music while you giggled and reached up with your free hand to play with his long hair.

"Can I cum?" he whispered in your ear at the height of the next song.

"No," you replied coolly.

Jeno whined and moved his hips away from yours to halt the friction that was urging him towards his orgasm. Another two songs passed. They went by quickly for you, but for Jeno behind you, it seemed that he was being tortured between wanting to touch you and not wanting to disobey you by accident. When your drink was done, you passed the empty glass to Jeno.

You spun around, flinging your arms around his neck. "Find a place for those, then meet me in the bathroom in three minutes. Knock four times."

Jeno's cheeks were red and his eyes were dark with lust. He nodded like a lost puppy as you nodded then quickly escaped his arms, walking towards the bathroom while swimming upstream through the crowd of other clubbers.

In the bathroom, you locked the door behind you so that no one would bother you, then you waited. Patiently. Three minutes later, there were four cautious knocks on the door, and while you let him second guess himself for another few seconds, before you relieved his stress by opening the door and pulling him inside. Jeno immediately began kissing you-- He'd already broken the rule on the dance floor, he didn't give two fucks anymore. He just wanted you. However, he relinquished his power to you so that you could push him up against the counter, fidgeting with the belt around his waist, unbuckling it quickly then undoing his jeans before pushing them down with his underwear. Jeno moaned into your mouth as your hand accidentally ghosted over his straining erection on its way to take off his shirt so that you could admire his abs while you finally got to use him. Jeno took the hem of his black shirt in his mouth when you held it up for him. Once he was settled on the counter, his hands propping him upright, his shirt dangling from his mouth, you finally touched him for real, no teasing or accidentally touching him. You took his cock in your hand and vigorously began jerking him off. Jeno tensed. He moaned against his shirt and wrapped his ankles around one of your legs. His cock was naturally big, but when it was hard, he somehow managed to get even bigger… That made your task somewhat of a struggle. Your hand barely fit around his girth, and while pumping the entirety of his long length, you found that the alcohol made your arm feel tired early on— But you pushed through for him. The way his face scrunched with pleasure was just too cute to resist. You wanted to see him cum for you finally after getting himself all worked up in public… And now he was sitting on a public bathroom counter, his body exposed, and—

“I forgot to lock the door,” you told him. Jeno’s abs contracted while he panted into the fabric of his t-shirt. “Someone could walk in on us at any second, find you naked, whimpering, ready to cum for me.” He threw his head back as he let out a lewd moan. “Maybe they’ll be lucky enough to catch you cumming.”

He whimpered, his eyes pleading with you for something— Maybe it was that he was close, or that he wanted you to stop to check the door, or that he secretly wished that your fantasy would become a reality. Whatever it was that made him look so pathetic, you grinned in return.

Within the next few seconds, Jeno dropped the t-shirt from his mouth to pant, “C-Can I… c-c-cum? Please—“ Poor thing couldn’t even think straight, his tongue lolled out as he continued like your good little puppy. How could you deny that?

“Cum, puppy.”

Jeno’s fit body squirmed against the bathroom counter as he came on his thighs and ripped chest. His orgasm came and went fast, however you refused to stop jerking him off, which in turn earned you the most beautiful whimpers and pleas you could have ever imagined from such a buff man— The same buff man who followed you around like a dog and begged for your attention at all times like one too. Jeno cursed under his ragged breath as he began squirting. He made a mess of his cum-stained body, and your hand that still continued to torture him with blissful overstimulation, and he even got some on the counter and the floor tiles too. You felt him softening in your hand but that didn’t deter you. The more his body jerked and he begged you to stop, the more inclined you were to keep going. His abs strained as the rest of his body gave out.

“I can’t—” he said with a dumbed-out hiccup.

Finally, you took some pity on him, your hand winding down slowly until it came to a complete stop. There was nothing else to milk from him. Not while both of you were drunk and exhausted.

“T-t-the door.”

“I locked it when you came in.”

Jeno’s head slumped against the mirror behind him. “I hate you.”

“It made you cum pretty hard, though. You’re welcome.”

His big cock rested against his wet stomach. “How are we gonna get out of here?”

You started pulling paper towels out of the dispenser. “Maybe I should open the door and let people get a good look at you. Covered in cum… Tongue hanging out of your mouth like a puppy… Your body on display like a Greek God.”

Jeno blushed.

He sat still, likely from the exhaustion and the alcohol making him dizzy, while you cleaned him up with the shitty paper towels the club had on-hand. You only planned on cleaning as much as you could before you could get home and put him into the shower. It was rare for Jeno to make a mess… To squirt. The first time he did, he freaked out, trying to run and hide out of embarrassment, but after he learned you found it hot, Jeno never stopped wishing for the next time his body would let him do it for you. Usually when he had been drinking a lot of water throughout the day, especially after working out, or when the two of you were drinking, was when he’d let go like that. Part of you honestly hadn’t expected him to do so in a public bathroom… Then again, desperate Jeno would do anything for you.

“This place smelled like piss long before you,” you told him in an attempt to ease his nerves as you helped him put his clothes back on and stand up. “Let’s get out of here.” You grabbed his chiseled chin and brought him in for another passionate kiss. “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

[nouearth]

12 Months

peter parker x male reader.

summary: where you couldn't possibly imagine to find love and sanctuary anywhere else, you somehow find it in the presence of a boy named peter.

wc: 4.3k. genre: angst. warnings: loner!reader, sad!reader, implied abuse, implied bullying, high school senior year, slow-burn.

SEPTEMBER.

The big hand of the clock flicked closer to the end of the day, the small hand circling around the circumference to pass time. 

Conversations of peers were usually drowned out with the help of your earbuds. The gentle strum of acoustics would counter the excitement of the students’ well-being; friends opinionated in after-school activities, athletes talked about the upcoming game with your rival school, artists boasted over the amount of commissions they’ve received overnight.

For the first time, you heard it all, and took it all in with an inhale, then silence as you stared at Peter Parker. The earbuds were slotted into your ear canals, but today, the wired nubs were worn to merely dull your surroundings as you awaited the intercom to bid the occupants of the building farewell for the day. Your leg shook, bouncing your book bag atop of it, and you held it steady when you hugged it close to your chest, chin resting at the strap. It appeased the throttle in your chest, but every time the classmate opened his mouth for a laugh, it swelled painfully larger. A pump to the husk of a balloon, a breath to the bubble of blue raspberry bubblegum, a vapor to the particles of billowed smoke, it continued swelling and roped your anxiety along for the journey. A part of you needed to talk to him, but the other part begged for reconsideration. 

At some point, you forgot to breathe. Feeling blue in the cheeks, you finally exhaled the caught nerves. They drew out of you in shivers, spaghetti boiling in bubbling water if the warmth of your breath could change matter. While the man listened, then talked within his small group of friends, chairs and desks were gathered around to form a circle, you examined him cautiously. If Peter was to turn his head and meet the affection in your gaze, you were lucky to have the window by your side to turn back to, feigning interest in the clouds, the sky, the breeze in the trees. Until then, his smile unmasked pearly whites that rivaled the lights that illuminated the classroom. His russet hair was pushed back, wavy locks that were brushed simply so people could easily follow the pattern with one glance. 

“Gooooood Afternoon, Midtown!” The intercom blared, and a warning from your teacher hushed your classmates into a sea of scatters. “Before we send you kiddos off, we would like to remind all of you that the Midtown Tigers will be playing against Weston’s Sea Hawks tonight! Show your support by attending the game and cheering for our team. Let’s show those dirty hawks that tonight will be the night that we can bounce back from our 18th consecutive loss!” It continued with its usual announcements of bus delays and afternoon activities before finally blaring that cathartic bell.

Footsteps crowded the halls, and your classmates joined its symphony in heavy to light strides. While you watched, your pace slowed deliberately as Peter’s friends bid him farewell. You overheard them asking him if he was going to join them in the mall, but he declined, blaming his absence on his aunt. They left one by one, until the only occupants were you, your teacher, and Peter.

“Peter?” You were up on your feet, approaching him from the back of the classroom as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Your voice cracked from the parched of your throat, mousy in performance, and you were unsure if Peter heard you. Your mouth opened again to call to him again, but he turned with a friendly smile, raising his brows in interest, and they closed.

“Oh, hey!” His face lit up when he saw you, or maybe you were convincing yourself. Not even your reflection looked at you the way Peter did. You were even surprised he recognized you. Cared to remember you. He hurriedly threw his books into his backpack before swinging it over his shoulder, meeting you in the middle of the row of desks. “What’s up?”

“I…” You’ve only spoken to him twice. The first was a mere greeting, and the second was a painful answer to his worry. 

Are you okay? Yes.

The beating in your chest hiked in rhythms, compelled gravity to rob your voice, but you were conscious enough to steal it back, softly speaking. “I just want to thank you for… last year. I never got to… properly thank you. So, thank you…” You were intoxicated by the amount of times you said those appreciative words, but gratitude sobered you up, offering the latter a small, grateful smile. 

“Oh…” The smile on Peter’s face simmered into a relieved line. He then nodded towards the door for you to follow him, and you did, silently by his side. “You don’t have to thank me, (M/N). I did what anyone would do.”

Everyone let it happened, except for you.

The hallway was quick to clear as students rushed to spend the remaining hours of their Friday without any regrets. The silence was deafening except for the squeak of your shoes and the whispered gossip between faculty members, and for a place you often labeled as your personal hell, it wasn’t so bad when it was purged of those that spawned that definition in your life.

Maybe you were walking slower, or you were keeping with Peter’s pace, or the hallways had undergone construction to stretch the floors, or the awkward silence between the both of you that blurred your perception, but the travel from your classroom to the exit of the building was a journey.

“Is he still bothering you? I don’t know if he’s in your other classes, but he’s not in mine, so…” Peter spoke up, alluding to the classmate who called you disgusting names, shoved your books to the floor, stole the change of your clothes during gym. And you wished it would stop there, at the actions of the cliché bully trope, but it never did. He pushed the door open, politely letting you out first, and you stepped into the warmth with a small thank you,’ and continued walking with him. Summer cicadas harmonized in their greeting.

“No, not anymore.” You lied, dropping that hand that once held onto the padded straps of your backpack to your side. The dark color of your pants masked the bruise on your wrist when you shoved it deep into your pocket. “I have him in a few of my classes, but luckily he’s preoccupied with his friends.”

“Geez, you got his friends too? That’s… gotta be a loud classroom.” He laughed, and you joined in to delude yourself, and Peter, into thinking everything was okay.  

The sound of multiple engines running within the yellow busses reminded you how incredibly enamored you were with Peter. By now, motors would’ve been buried by earbuds, and the walk wouldn’t have been so deafening to your ear canals. But hearing Peter’s voice soothed the damage, and you wished you had a playlist of him saying your favorite words, reading your favorite novels, rescuing you with worried comfort. You wanted to continue the conversation, change the subject, but you never knew how, so it fell to silence. Again.

“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You spoke softly again, paused when you and Peter reached the end of the sidewalk. You were familiar with Peter’s route. He lived in the opposite side of your street, and the curved path to the right practically led him back to his apartment. All he had to do was follow the beige pavement. “…and thank you, again. It means a lot.” A genuine smile, one that you haven’t been able to sprout for weeks, months you could argue, and Peter’s breath hiked.

“Of course…” It took his breath away. The cloudy day was drawing in the last of its colors, but the rare hint of your teeth, the curve of your lips, made the sky above him, behind you, bloom in the softest blues, yellows, and whites. Selfishly, he wished you smiled more, because the release that was pulled from him evened the astonishment of a child seeing stars for the very first time. 

“I’ll see you around, (M/N).”

OCTOBER.

The workload in your classes had picked up, and with the part-time job at the local bookstore, you were envious of customers who had finished their backlog of novels. Mainly working adults. Still, there was never enough hours in the day to immerse yourself in the world of a brave protagonist, slaying off demons and dragons in the pursuit of love. You never got to finish the fantasy novel you were reading, but you’d imagine it ended with the hero beheading the fire-breathing behemoth, and its head would be pridefully worn on a stick like cotton candy. Cheers erupted when the character returned, then roared when their love blessed them with one thankful kiss.

The ladder was anchored to the wooden, though creaky, floors as you held your breath from inhaling dust. When the door was pushed open by curious passersby, particles of dust sailed with the draft that was invited in, and you coughed into the crook of your arm whenever one floated into your throat. Though, you couldn’t be too annoyed. It also provided a test to see if the Halloween decorations could withstand the wind as they sat on hooks that were nailed into the ceilings. Spirals of orange and black ribbons roped cartoonish gravestones, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, ghouls, all the mascots of the holiday, from above. The draft animated them in gentle swings, delicate arcs that cooled the confined space of the bookstore, but as far as you could tell, none of them had landed on the ground.

“Looks great, (M/N)! I think we’re good on the hanging decorations!” Your manager, Anna, gave the metal ladder a strong pat before tending to the fallen dust. It shook in fear, and you did too, immediately clutching to the fly to stabilize it.

“Any else? We still haven’t decorated the windows.” You climbed down cautiously, making sure she was in your line of sight because for all you could know, she could be an omen.

“The stick on the ones I got suck, so I was thinking that we’ll decorate it on Halloween? Before opening?” She said, opening the door after to sweep out the culprits of your coughing fits. 

“Sounds good.” You collapsed the extension of the ladder once you stepped off, folding it into a thicker shape, and nodded before returning the ladder to its rightful place in the storage room.

“Doing anything fun for Halloween?! Parties?!” Anna’s voice boomed despite the door muffling it. The natural luminous of her voice was something you usually cowered away from, especially when she called for you in front of customers. Luckily, the store was closed, vacant of any witnesses to the flare of your cheeks. Cardboard boxes stacked atop of one another, and for some reason, you were suddenly determined to face your procrastination head-on. “Horror movies?!”

“Uh…” The volume of your voice was still muted despite forcing yourself to make it sonorous. It came out in staggered breaths as you flattened the boxes with your weight, stepping on them at the crease and fold, until you were able to fold them into neat, flat shapes. “Not really! I usually don’t do anything for celebrations.”

“Seriously?” The sound of sweeps came closer to you. They sounded like laughs, almost as if they were mocking you. When you looked up, it was Anna’s fretted expression that reminded you that they were just sounds. No one was here to hurt you. Laugh at you. 

It was just you and Anna. And sounds.

“Mm-hmm.” You simply answered, packing the flattened boxes into a trash bag before storing it back to where the stack previously harbored. The room felt bigger now. You exited after switching off the lights, and took Anna’s broom to sweep up the fuzzy stray materials of cardboard. 

“How come?” Her shoulder supported her leaning stance as she pressed to the wall, watching you diligently work with crossed arms. She gasped out of realization. “Oh no—did something horrible happen on Halloween? Is that why you don’t celebrate?!”

“No, nothing like that!” You laughed. It was always genuine with her. Anna was at least twenty years older than you, but she still kept the youthfulness of a child. You were envious of it. 

“I just…” Big sweeps to walnut flooring kept your mind at ease. The thick hairs brushed evenly, catching lint in the hay. They clung protectively onto the strands the more you brushed, the harder as well. It reminded you of nights, lonesome in your bed. No matter how hard you tried to remove those pesky lints, they always stayed. Always found a way to intrude. “—don’t have parties to go to.”

Nor did you have friends to watch movies with, or a willing family to celebrate with if all plans fell through. It’s been you since you can remember, and you’ve gotten used to it. Though, you’d never admit that to her.

The trail of your voice and the mindless polishing of walnut immediately foiled your discreet speech, but Anna knew better than to prod. From the day you came in for the interview, she remembered the timidness of your slouch, your pattern of speech, your orbs. One could argue that they were nerves, universal tremors one every eighteen year old got when applying for their first job. Then, she trained you. It was just you and her, and the shelves of delicate books. Over the next few weeks, Anna learned that you were as frail as the old spine of donated hardbacks. 

Her knowledge of you only sank surface-deep, barely a scratch or a wound. At one point, she thought it was because of her personality: chipper as a mourning dove, loud as her neighbor’s lawnmower on Sundays, but compared to how she met you five months ago, it delighted her to see progress. Slowly but surely, you opened up to her. She knew your favorite color, your favorite meal, your favorite novel, and she was no longer insecure. There will be a time when she’d meet the root of your soul, and if it took a month, a year, or another, she’d wait.

“Everything okay at school?” She’s been meaning to ask. It was an exciting time for a new business, but incredibly stressful as well. Most never made it after six months, especially within an industry where independent bookstores have become increasingly difficult to sustain with the presence of technology. Anna was just fortunate enough to have seen such quick growth.

Anna took the broom from your hand, stashed it back in the storage room, then guided you to a table for two near the entrance of the store. It was her favorite spot because she loved seeing the wonderment of her customers when they left with the book they couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah,” You quickly answered and offered her a simple smile, devoid of any purpose but to pacify her worries. It worked on your parents, and you liked to think that it worked on Anna as well. “Well, they’re doing some construction in the school gym. I heard that they’re planning to add a room for—“

“That’s great, (M/N), but…” Her arms remained crossed, below her chest, and she nodded to the bruise on your cheek. Purple bloomed high on your cheekbone. Occasionally, it throbbed whenever a draft hit your frail skin. You assumed it was its way to kiss it better, and so you would let it in seek of sating the empty feeling in your stomach. “That. I meant the bruise…”

“Oh—“ Out of instinct, your hand reached up to dab at the purpling skin. Numbed at the first layer, but you pressed deeper, and you hid a jolt with a sudden clear of your throat. “Uh… cat— got me. My mom always said to never play with strays.”

It was a lame excuse and you knew it. Anna did too. Before you could see her face scrunch into a stew of concern, you turned the bruised cheek away and looked to the heights of the sky, out the window, and wished you could fly into the night.

On Halloween, the promotion regarding a sale on donated books, though only paperbacks, if you wore a costume propelled the place to a considerable height. The small size of the store felt even smaller, even more so as Anna’s playlist Halloween music blared in the wall stereo. The sound waves and chatters of excited customers confined you, and you shrunk yourself in corners where it would be coldest. Anna took care of the crowd of patrons, while you assembled the paperbacks in a neatly order within the shelves. 

Anna didn’t expect you to comply in participating in the event of Halloween, so the elation in her face was immediately framed in your mind when she hugged you tight, bruising enough to beckon the former bruise on your cheek to reappear, in your Where’s Waldo outfit. Simple, but you were a simple man.

“Excuse me?” An inquisitive voice tore your focus from arranging the novels in alphabetical order. You were kneeling to fill the lower shelf that was too low for anyone to comfortable browse through, but maintained the position as the crowd seemed to have closed in on you. “Do you know if this book qualifies for the sale, or is it paperback only?”

You looked up through your artificial glasses, and the size of your eyes matched the roundness of your frames when it embarrassingly didn’t take you very long to uncover who was under the layer of green face paint. “Peter?”

“O-oh! (M/N), you work here?” His eyes also widened, but he was sober enough to reach his hand out for you to grab onto. “That’s fitting, I guess. You always went to the library during lunch—I-I mean, not that I watch you or anything. I just— happened to notice…” The heat from your palm jumped onto Peter’s when you held on and pulled yourself to your feet. You weren’t sure what to respond to first, but the closed distance between you and Peter was distracting. A fleeting feeling in your chest, and it still overstays it welcome when you backed a step away. 

Peter’s never been so close to you. He could smell the scent of ocean mist that he likened to previous shopping trips ago. His aunt may would drag him to the nearest retail store and he’d spend every second of the agonizing trip smelling laundry scent boosters while she stocked up on the pantry. He laughed to himself. You seemed like the type to use those.

“Thanks, uh…” You carefully took the hardback in your hand, examining it with several cycles of flips. It was in mint condition. Usually, a poorer state allowed an extra discount. “The sale is only for paperbacks, but…” Your eyes scanned the room. Fewer people now. Anna was still busy entertaining those that came to participate in the costume contest, a sudden endeavor to drive engagement.

“I can make an exception.” There was a swell in Peter’s heart when you gave him a smile, an uncertain small one, but nonetheless, a smile that warmed his insides. He wouldn’t have minded if he had paid full price anyhow, but he also wouldn’t reject the opportunity to save money. 

He followed your steps to the back, away from the engaged crowd, and stilled as you began checking him out. “Just one book?” You looked up, and his lips were already parted as if he was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

Another moment of silence as you took his card after applying the sale to his book, and your fingers drummed to the beat of the music to fill it out, awaiting the receipt to print out. Whenever you had the courage to look at him, he was immersed in the ambiance of the bookstore. Smiling to himself, to Anna, to the laughter of the crowd, and you couldn’t help but hide one yourself, to the ground. When Peter faced you again, you quickly looked away in time, and the receipt rolled out in one smooth motion.

“How are you? Is it always this busy? I’ve never heard of this place.” Peter had a habit of stacking multiple questions with his own observations, with statements, with more questions. Rambles, people would call it. He was attentive, curious, and it all made him the more endearing.

“I’ve been doing okay. Tired, mostly. Miss Wilson’s been keeping me up though.” It was your attempt at a joke, and luckily, it landed when Peter laughed in agreement, elated as if he’d been waiting for the culprit of all-nighters to be of subject.

“Right?!” Peter shook his head when you asked if he wanted a bag, and continued, tucking the book in his armpit when you returned it to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her—she’s awesome. But chill out on the essays! An essay about our essays is a task sent from the devil himself.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and a wider smile brimmed your face in support. For the first time, you felt compelled to talk, to engage into conversation.  “Yeah, I missed a few deadlines, but she’s pretty lenient with late work, thankfully.”

“Really? I have a feeling it’s because it’s you! You’re probably her favorite student since you always get the right answers when she calls on you.” He laughed again to escape the awkwardness of his compliment. Subtle, but he hoped you took it pridefully.

Peter looked to the side to see if anyone was coming to conclude their purchase for the night, and was delighted to see the hardwood floor left unattended. “Are you doing anything after this? It’s Halloween, so I imagine people are probably out partying or something.”

“I’m not really a party person.” You nodded to assure yourself, mindlessly rearranging the supplies around the desk to avoid the gaze of his eyes. It sucked you in once, couldn’t look back even if you tried. It was only when Peter turned himself away that you were no longer staring into warm chestnuts. “I only dressed like this since I’d probably look a little out of place if I showed up in my usual uniform, haha.”

“You look cu—“ Peter hurriedly cut himself off, frantic before smiling again. “Nice. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” You returned his smile, soft in form. “What about you? Are you doing anything?”

“Well, I’m not a party person either—oh! There’s this new horror movie that came out a week ago! I’ve been dying to see it,” Peter sparked, gently bouncing on his toes as hope frayed within his words. “If you’re free, would you want to watch it with me?”

“Oh—“ For the first time, you had the option to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and for some reason, Peter was always at the crime of your firsts. “W-what time? I’ll have to see if it’s okay with Anna if—“

“Let me see…” Light reflected off of Peter’s faced as he searched on his phone, but a buoyant smile that revealed his teeth shined brighter. “One showing at eight, another at ten, and one final one at midnight!”

“Is… midnight okay?” You hesitantly asked, and Peter brightened.

“Midnight is perfect.”

When you left from work, you didn’t bother to call for your parents. It would’ve gone to voicemail anyhow. Instead, Anna took the excited initiative to drive you to the theater despite your assurance that walking would’ve sufficed.

Nonsense! I’m getting my coat. Hold on! Stay right there!

The mystery of what held the rest of the night for you frightened you to the core. What if everything went downhill from here? What if Peter never showed up? What if this had been a prank all along? During the car ride, you breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

And then, breathed. 

Inhaled.

Blew in one continuous breath.

Inhaled.

Your chest ran steady again.

That night, Peter made you feel normal. As normal as someone like you could be. 

You didn’t plan on getting your fingers buttery, but Peter assured you that his  popcorn wasn’t going to finish itself. You shared your sour gummies in return. Peter jumped when a ghost flew to the screen, and you did the same from his own erratic movements. You watched the film through half-closed eyes, peeking between the cracks of your greasy fingers, prepared to be startled by the sound of a door closing, and you laughed silently to yourself because it was silly when you flinched to a cat scurrying away.

While you focused, the structure of your nose and lips, your entire side profile, were handsomely illuminated by the flickers of the screen and Peter took in the animation of your presence, a behemoth contrast of the you he’d known silently for years; the you that kept to himself, ate at lunch by himself, did group projects by himself, studied in the library by himself, walked home by himself. It was pathetic, many would heckle to their circle of friends. Peter overheard the tease and taunts, and he wanted to defend you in those moments. But he couldn’t, not until he knew you.

When you felt the air thicken, you turned to Peter and his gaze unfurled the heavy cloud between the two of you until it vanished into smoke. It sucked you in; his eyes. And you stared wide-eyed, bewildered and lost in the sea of broken stars the screen illustrated in Peter’s orbs. They twinkled with every cut of the scene, sparkling under the terror of the performer’s haunting, until they no longer didn’t when he turned away. 

Crimson blanched and wilted into his face, radiated even in the dark when you followed and turned back to the screen. You felt your cheeks rivaling in swatch.

For the first time, you weren’t scared. 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[moriwood]

Flavor of the Month — p.js

top!park jongseong x btm!male reader smut 1.5k words

Working at the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in the city, you’ve gotten various influential bachelors lining up each night to have a private show with you. Tonight, you might just be meeting your new favorite client.

includes: jay is the mayor of the city n u suck his cock like the dominant slut that u really are ✨

The decade-old air conditioner whirrs, droplets of refrigerant pooling in a repurposed paint bucket. The stupidly cold and dingy room pricks at your barely-clothed body as you attempt to pose salaciously like the club’s matron told you to do so, but there's not much that you can do when you're sharing the cramped space with others dancing to white noise with awkward fervor.

You play with the waistband of your black mesh briefs, thumbs languidly stretching it around as you wonder who the hell is that man behind the heavily tinted window. You see his silhouette pointing at you, probably whispering something to the matron Heechul with the way he's leaning towards him.

"That one's a new recruit," you hear the muffled voice of Heechul, then a guffaw. They talk more, but the rest’s unintelligible. It takes a few more dull minutes before the man leaves and the door creaks open. The matron Heechul skips — scratch that — hops to you with a gummy smile.

He squeals, “you’ve got someone waiting in the executive suite.”

“Who’s the client?” one of the older performers asks. “Must be a big shot if he doesn't wanna lounge at the front like the rest of 'em.”

Heechul rolls his eyes and harrumphs, “Chitchat later. Our youngest just secured us our wealthiest client tonight." After tousling your hair, he gives your shoulder a friendly pat, accompanied by a hearty cackle. “Make us proud, kid.”

With a cheeky salute to the rest of the men in the room, you grab a bathrobe from the coat hook and make your way to the warmer hallway. A faint red light seeps out the door of the executive suite at the end of the corridor, a mixture between an alluring invitation and a subtle warning.

What meets you inside is a man handsomely dressed in a black suit. He hasn’t noticed you yet, busy unbuttoning his suit. His face is strikingly familiar, as if his image had been plastered on the streets months prior — during a political campaign���

“Mayor Jay?”

Finally, his eyes meet yours; his eyebrows furrowed as he seems to struggle with the buttons of his cuffs. “Shouldn’t you be helping me off my clothes?” he grits, ignoring the fact that you recognized him quite quickly. You smirk, untying your bathrobe and sauntering toward him with an air of nonchalance. His stare locks in on your peeking bulge, beating against the constraint of your skimpy underwear. You help him take his coat off, your hands soon settling on his belt strap.

“First time in a place like this… Sir?” you tease. “I tend to go overboard with the attractive ones so tell me what’s your limit.”

He laughs, “My limit? Don’t boys like you just lie down and stay quiet?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning so close a retort spills from your lips. “You wanna play rough with me?” you sweetly ask. “Wanna fuck me so hard I bleed? Leave me limping so my next clients know how much you fucked me so good?”

An arm envelops your lower back as he pulls you in, a cold calloused hand tickling your warm body and your cock laying flat against his clothed erection. You fall into silence, a gulp escaping. The mayor seems to be intimidatingly well-endowed. “I guess your matron didn’t tell you that I’ve got you for the whole night? You’re only mine tonight.”

Your brain short circuits at the sudden assertion of ownership, hands nervously hovering over his belt in eagerness. But he holds you off, looking around the room, noting a black king-sized bed, a black velvet sofa, and a wine bar with a marble counter. Settling for the sofa behind him, he kicks off his shoes and slips off his socks, sprawling comfortably across the cushions. 

“Give me a glass of that,” Jay commands, pointing at the bottle of Belvedere at the side. You oblige, pouring him a healthy amount in an old-fashioned glass as he undoes his long-sleeve shirt. “Now, you drink it,” he directs. You tilt your head in confusion, but you comply, a single sip already burning your throat. “Drink it all,” he adds.

You’re too weak with alcohol to start drinking way before the client, that’s not a good tactic if you want to milk the mayor’s wallet dry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—”

“I won’t let you suck my dick until you finish that glass,” he warns you, his hand lazily palming his bulge. Your cock twitches in anticipation, chugging the contents of the glass, some of it spilling over the corner of your lips. You pour yourself another one as some desperate act of establishing dominance over the mayor. “Give it to me, Sir,” you beg, eyes slightly blurring and speech slurring with the two meager glasses. Liquor truly hits hard on an empty stomach, you realize. Or maybe the mayor’s just hitting all the right notes with turning you on.

He beckons you over with a finger, making you crawl towards him. His legs spread wide for you and you finally get to unbuckle him, cheeks nuzzling his crotch. The button and the zipper go next, revealing a glorious masterpiece standing on a thick bush, adorned with thick veins and a leaking head. You grab him from the base, as you inhale his musk. Your cock twitches for the nth time tonight.

“Can you fit it all?” he whispers, sweeping your bangs away to look at you in your eyes. “I’ll try,” you mumble, hand gently stroking him up and down. Jay laughs in response, putting his hands back to his sides. “Try to take control and if you can’t, I’ll just fuck your throat.”

You lick his leaking precum, ending at his tip as you start to suck on his head. His precum tastes sweet and bitter at the same time, reminding you of the cum of a man who smokes cigarettes often. Then you notice the slight smell of smoke mixed in his strong perfume, nothing new with your clients. He shivers from pleasure with an inaudible praise. You suck eagerly as your hands roam his thighs, eventually making him tangle his fingers on your hair. 

“You’re such a good boy,” he mumbles, “but you haven’t sucked it all, haven’t you?”

He pushes your head down slowly, tears beginning to spill from the sheer girth and length of his cock. You try to say something in protest, but the vibration of your throat only makes him lean his head back, mouth open and panting like an exhausted athlete. Your nose now lays flat against his pubic hair, and while you weren’t choking, you were struggling to enjoy the experience. Your tongue tries its best to cover the huge expanse, finally withdrawing with his cock fully wet and a string of spit following your tongue.

“Don’t stop,” he begs, hand cradling your face as he stares at you with this new face of desperation. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good.”

You go back to sucking on the head of his dick, this time with your hands stroking the shaft and your best skill, tongue darting across his frenulum. Now, Jay is making a lot of noise, hands clawing at the velvet sofa, a bunch of broken praises and incomprehensible requests falling through deaf ears. You decide you’re still in control, despite the slight inebriation.

It’s beginning to sound all sloppy, precum spilling from his cock like a bottle of lubricant being squeezed. Likewise, you feel yourself spilling through the mesh of your briefs, probably messing up the carpet you were kneeling on. You look up at Jay, and while the poor guy tries to keep his eyesight on you, he’s tilting his head back and gasping in overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck,” he screams, finally managing to hook his fingers again on your hair and pushing you down. Your hands let go of his cock, your throat now easily slipping the whole length in. “Lap it all up, you fucking slut,” he manages to let out.

You lower down your underwear with your free hand, stroking yourself at the same pace as he pulls and pushes your head on his cock. At an erratic pace. Both of you were about to climax, with the way his cock is throbbing at an abnormal speed and your body tensing up in cold shivers.

“I’m cumming, shit!” he cries, exploding into your mouth. You greedily lap his cum up, swallowing every single drop despite its honestly awful taste. You wish he would’ve cummed in your ass instead, but barely an hour has passed and he promised the whole night for you. You jerk yourself into completion at the same time, squirting cum all over the carpet.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your head as you let go of his cock, both of you breathing rapidly while you stare at each other with still-unresolved lust.

Jay grins as he points again at the bottle of vodka behind you. “Another glass of that and I’ll fuck you in the ass.”

author's note: sry for d inactivity, i jus lov it when exam week suddenly turns into exam month. :') read the very distant sequel here: [Stealing the Spotlight — k.sn + p.js] and stream sweet venom. >:VV

— moriwood. || [My Carrd]

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 9

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n i send in a job application, you get a new chapter. the world continues to go round. (i also got two skz albums for writing my application, and a bonus chan card for walking up to the counter with $150 worth of skz merch in my arms (she was like damn i wonder what group this girl likes the most what a mystery))

previous | masterlist | next

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At some point in the last two months, you'd become more used to the presence of eight boys than you'd realised.

The thought only makes the quiet air of the studio all the more oppressive as you sit on the floor, legs stretched out before you as you wait for the livestream to load. You'd spent plenty of time in here alone since joining their group, but not as much as you have in the past week, with the boys gone from the moment they woke up to the late hours of the night on schedules and promotions. It was strange to be here for twelve hours or more and not hear a single voice coming through the door, to wander up to the cafeteria for lunch and not see them, or Minseo, or even the other trainees you'd worked with for so many years, your personal rhythms no longer lining up with the regimen of classes and mealtimes and monthly evaluations, which you know are drawing close without even having to check.

Even your home is lonely, the empty rooms echoing with no voice to respond to you. You haven't had your own room since you left Australia all of six years ago. You've never had your own apartment. You're not sure you know what to do with it anymore.

The livestream erupts in a burst of noise and colourful pixels, clarifying slowly into a picture of a stage. You've missed most of the opening performances, not watching the time as you practised. You've seen them all three times this week already; you'll probably see them all again next week as well. And if you said that watching the rookie groups in the earlier stages of the show didn't make you a little bit jealous, you'd be lying, especially this of all weeks.

(If you said that watching the boys perform God's Menu didn't make you a little bit jealous, you'd be lying too, but you won't allow that thought to cross your mind.)

As if summoned by the thought of them, they flash up on the screen, one at a time, and then as a group as the stage begins; senior idols, playing top billing on a weekly show watched by millions, a position you have no business being in. And yet here you are, sitting in their studio and watching their shows and thinking that it should have been you and you've been cheated again.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the music or the sweat that clings to your skin runs down your spine. Were you just being conceited about this whole debut thing; signing this contract to join a senior group, watching other debut groups like you had the right to be out there with them, occupying this private dance studio as if it is your own space, as if you'd earned the right fair and square to leave the darker, shared spaces of the fourth floor rooms, where all the other trainees ground away at their skills with only hope in their future. 

Weren't three missed debuts just three signs that you'd ignored that maybe this wasn't the life promised to you?

Your phone vibrates, a text notification from Minseo covering Felix's face. Your thumb hovers over it, the desire to ask where she is and what she's doing tugging at your breastbone. You let it slide away though; she's been at different schedules all day too, if she is even home yet, and night is drawing on quickly. You're exhausted anyway; you'd probably fall asleep in the first five minutes of a movie, or even midway through a bowl of icecream.

You need to keep practising anyway. That was the key to this debut you'd stolen off of fate; every minute of every day spent in this studio, until you made it or they dropped you. You already know how it feels to look back and see an hour or a day that could have been spent getting better, and you'd hated it; this time, even if you never debuted, no one would say that you didn't try. No one would call you lazy.

(But the wrong look was what they had said, not lazy. Just not pretty enough, just the wrong face in the wrong lineup in front of the wrong man. It was one thing to fail out of merit; it was another to fail because of the way you were born.)

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

[tobiasdrake]

You previously anaylzed Yamcha's fighting style and the flaws he doesn't overcome. Do you have any thoughts on how Krillin fights?

Krillin's fighting style is one of my favorites, to be honest. He's a dedicated pragmatist, ready and willing to do whatever it takes to win. His techniques and strategies are deceptive and tricksy, always on the lookout for a way to circumvent the straight fight.

Krillin's fighting style is all about cutting the knot. It's just a shame that, Dragon Ball being what it is, his methods run counter to its central philosophies and so he is doomed to constant failure.

We get our first glimpse of the kind of fighter Krillin is going to be when he defeats Goku in the rock hunt on the first day of their training.

He first tries to win the competition by forging a counterfeit rock. But when the Muten-Roshi sees through that, he instead uses his counterfeit to fake out Goku and steal the real rock for himself.

He's narratively punished for this victory when his reward dinner poisons him via badly prepared pufferfish. But we see the foundations of what will become his martial style beginning to take root here.

Krillin is a tricky trickster. His goal is to be the guy still standing at the end of the fight. That's what he's here for. Though he does quickly soften up and become Goku's Male Bestie (opposited Bulma as Goku's Female Bestie), he carries this pragmatism with him as he begins to develop his skills.

Note that this is not to say Krillin isn't a capable fighter in his own right. As a pupil of Kame-senryu, he is a formidable martial artist. He begins to show the fruits of his martial training as early as the 21st Tenkaichi Budokai, where he crushes one of the monks that used to bully him in the preliminaries. He also pressures his own mentor, the Muten-Roshi, by raw skill alone.

Krillin's got the skills and he uses them. When I say he's underhanded and deceitful, I don't mean instead of fighting straight. It's a weapon in his toolbelt but not the only one. Nonetheless, it's a potent one, as he nearly defeats the Muten-Roshi via a special technique that only Krillin would devise.

Goddammit, Roshi.

He starts out using these kinds of underhanded tricks to compliment his martial arts. But as he grows as a martial artist, he begins to incorporate strategies like this into his art itself.

Aside from a brief and mostly offscreen bout with General Blue, his next significant fights are in the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai. His fight with Chiaotzu demonstrates the way Krillin's sneakiness and martial training complement one another, as a major spotlight of it is his ki exchange with Chiaotzu.

Chiaotzu, like Tenshinhan, is a trained wielder of the Dodonpa. A lethal technique first introduced by the assassin Taopaipai, designed to fire a thin ki bullet from one finger, straight through its target for a mortal blow.

To counter this, Krillin attempts to perform the Kamehameha for the very first time. Which. Is. Absolutely stupid and reckless, as the Muten-Roshi notes. Baby's First Kamehameha is a poor choice to defend himself from the Dodonpa.

Or it would be, if that were the plan.

This is Krillin's strength in action. He fakes out everyone with an in @ Me Bruh bluff and then skirts around the direct competition to blindside Chiaotzu when he isn't looking. This is what a tricky trickster martial artist looks like.

In his next match with Goku, we see Krillin's ruthless pragmatism on full display. He devises his own version of Tenshinhan's Taiyoken/Solar Flare.

And he nearly wins by a tail when he once again breaks out his weak, improvised Kamehameha.

This bluff is brilliant. He gets Goku's focus on the Kamehameha while his true goal is Goku's tail. Unfortunately for him, Goku - under advisement from both the Muten-Roshi and his Grandpa Gohan - has been training his body to rid himself of that critical flaw over the last three years. His tail no longer saps his energy when it's grabbed.

But if Goku were still the same fighter Krillin knew before, this bluff would have been game-ending for their semifinal match. Krillin's abilities both in martial arts and in knot-cutting have advanced substantially. It's just that Goku's have advanced as well.

Krillin only gets one fight in the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai. But he goes hard.

In the three years since last tournament, Krillin's devised bending ki blasts that home in on their target. Holy shit, what a stellar-

GOT YOU SUCKER THAT'S A FAKEOUT IT'S KRILLER TIME

Krillin's invented bending ki blasts that home in on their target as a distraction. Sadly for Krillin, characters at this point are beginning to distribute Bukujutsu, the Flying Technique, among themselves so surprise ringouts aren't an option anymore. Piccolo's been capable of performing Bukujutsu since his previous life.

Krillin loses the match, though he does force an admission from Piccolo that martial artists of his caliber will make the world difficult to conquer.

The next chance Krillin has to put his skills on display comes six years later when the Saiyans attack the Earth. Vegeta and Nappa grow their six Saibamen, forcing the Earthlings to entertain them by battling these veggie monsters. Tenshinhan and Yamcha handily defeat two of them, though Yamcha's killed by a surprise attack.

And then Krillin decides enough is enough and makes his move: Opening fire directly on Nappa and Vegeta with everything he's got.

A fool's attack guaranteed to fail against the insurmountable might of the Saiyan-no, wait, what's he doing?

Ha, fuck you, he was aiming for the Saibamen the whole time! Made ya look. Though he does also hit Nappa and Vegeta for good measure.

Krillin is technically the first Earthling to ever land a hit on either of these guys. Imagine that. It doesn't do shit to them, but still.

This fight also brings out Krillin's ultimate technique. The epitome of his skills, the final fruits of his labors, the be-all end-all of Krillin Techniques. You already know what I'm talking about.

This. This, right here. The Kienzan/Destructo Disc is peak Krillin. Literally a knife with which to cut the knot. Everyone else is throwing ki punches except those assassins shooting ki bullets. And Krillin stops to ask, "What if I sharpened my ki into a buzzsaw so I can slice open an opponent's flesh rather than trying to beat them at punching?"

Prior to Goku's arrival, this technique from one of the weakest fighters on this field is the closest the overconfident Nappa ever comes to defeat.

Nappa outright tries to take it like a punch. But for Vegeta paying the fuck attention, this would have taken his head clean off. Even Frieza can't resist it.

Because it's not something you resist. It's a buzzsaw. It doesn't hit, it cleaves. It's a technique that's so utterly Krillin in nature.

In fact, the entire Namek arc in general is peak Krillin. A three-way tug-of-war over the Dragon Balls between Frieza's ungodly might, Vegeta's rogue wildcard antics and deadly force, and Krillin being a tricky trickster gunning for any opportunity to scoop victory out from under them.

That Krillin wins.

This is the key to Krillin's longevity as a character. Like the rest of the cast, he eventually falls victim to inability to keep pace with Goku's advances, and becomes further and further de-emphasized from the big action pieces of Dragon Ball.

Krillin's tricky methods were rarely allowed to grant him much success in the ring due to the way they chafe against Dragon Ball's tone. This simply isn't a series where ruthless pragmatism and knot-cutting generally wins the fight. But those same methods also gave him staying power and an ability to continue influencing the plot of Dragon Ball long after he ceased to be relevant as a fighter.

Krillin's style is designed to punch above his weight class, and he's in general a tricky trickster outside of the ring too. The result of this is tremendous staying power as a weaker character brushing elbows with the titanic super gods of the cast. He may not be the clincher in a fight but there's almost always something for a pragmatist like him to do.

[wtfyangjungwon]

call out my name.

member : lee heeseung

au : rockstarboyfriend!heeseung x rockstarpartner!reader

warnings : suggestive content , jealousy , use of the word " slut", suggestive smut , fluff, gn pronouns, non-proofread, no capitals intended

summary : heeseung and you were both in the same band, and it was the battle of the bands. the lead singer of the opposing band took it upon himself to flirt with you and heeseung did not like it one bit.

STORY UNDER CUT!

battle of the bands. a very important event for you and heeseung. the band, which consisted of you, heeseung, jake, jay and jungwon, had signed up for this battle, with an off chance of winning a record deal with ROCKHYBE Ent. you were the bassist of the band while heeseung was lead singer ; jake on the drums, jay on lead guitar and jungwon as the keyboardist.

the opposing group, ATLANTIC , has been a group your band has been going against for months. taken gigs, taken photo shoots , they did everything in their power to try and hurt the band's career.

ORANGE BLOOD, your band, has been given many chances to get a record deal but ATLANTIC would always take it.

heeseung was doing some warmups in the dressing room, while you tuned up your bass and fixed your clothes and your makeup. you noticed that your boyfriend was nervous, so you got up and set your bass down on the couch, moving towards him. you stand inbetween his legs ( as he was sat on the counter of the makeup desk) , and you placed your hands on his shoulders. " hee, everything will be okay. we got this. you got this. just do what you always do. " he looked up at you with big doe eyes and placed his hands on your waist. " i'm just nervous. i can't stand to lose them again. " he states and looks down.

you placed your index finger and thumb on his chin, lifting his face up. " you're amazing, my love. don't worry too much. " the man in front of you smiles and places a hand on the side of your neck and pulls you down, his lips meeting your own. it was a sweet kiss until his hand traveled down your body and to your waist, gripping it gently , his fingertips prodding into your skin.

the kiss quickly got heated, hands roaming everywhere. heeseung was about to slip his fingers into your shirt before a loud cough sounded from the other side of the room. you two pulled away from each other and looked into the direction of the cough. there stood jungwon, awkwardly looking at the two of you.

" it's time to go on stage. " he diverted his eyes from the two of you and left the room. you looked at heeseung with a smile and nodded.

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after ORANGE BLOOD performed their set , the ending of their song, One in a Billion , sounded throughout the room. after the last note ended, you guys bowed to the crowd and walked off stage. heeseung's arm was around your waist and he held you close. you both were in the midst of talking about how hungry you were and trying to discuss what you both wanted after the event was over, just as the lead singer of ATLANTIC , yeonjun, walked up towards you two.

he had a sly smirk on his face and his eyes were immediately glued to you, his black hair falling in front of his face. " so she can play. the fingers look like they work wonders." the male said and looked you up and down. he then looked heeseung straight in the eyes and said, " too bad i can't have you at the moment. maybe i will see what those fingers can do, during the after party. " yeonjun smirked and shifted his eyes towards you. " see ya, sweet girl. " yeonjun then walked off towards his dressing room.

heeseung dug his fingers into your side and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the dressing room. he locked the door behind you and pinned you against the door. his breath ghosted your lips, and his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

his eyes darted to your lips before crashing his lips into yours into a heated kiss. your lips molded perfectly together, like you were made for each other. his slender fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly, earning a small whimper from you.

he pulled away from you and looked at you with jealous, lust filled eyes. he kept his hand wrapped around your neck as your hands gripped his shirt. you both were breathing heavily and you looked up at him, smirking slightly.

" were you jealous, heeseung? " his name rolled off the tip of your tongue. he pulled you closer by your neck and his eyes searched your face.

" i'm going to fuck you endlessly against this wall and on every single piece of furniture in this room. you think you're slick? are you trying to be a slut?" he says and grits his teeth, as your smirk widened.

" you were jealous. "

" i'm going to make you call out my name so that everyone in this building knows who you belong to. scream it."

[your-next-daydream]

Glitched lust

Fizzaroli and Asmodeus x reader

Summary: What happens after Fizz gets captured by Crimson and even after Asmodeus's public love confession during his stand-off with Mammon? Asmodeus is worried about his froggie, so he hires a body guard to follow them around.

A/N: I'll make more than one part if anyone wants it. I just wanted more of Fizz and Ozzie x reader, so I did it myself.

This is targeted towards more masculine readers, but it will be gender neutral for everyone. I will attempt to keep this as neutral as possible pertaining to the readers' looks since it is a reader insert. That being said, the reader, you, are an imp and incubus hybrid.

Incubus: male demon who feeds off the sexual nature of others.

Succubus: female demon who feeds off the sexual nature of others.

I will be using the term incubus due to this being targeted towards masculine readers, but that will be the only term to “hint” at the readers gender.

A bit of back story:

You, the reader, have a past in being a dancer at clubs to gather money when you were old enough in hell but after a bit of discovery you found you liked being a gaurd or a body gaurd much more than you liked the tainted lust of others watching you dance for a buck or two. For a few years, you did freelance bodygaurding or just took up a job where someone was hiring for their club. After seeing an advertisement for I.M.P. and seeing an article about how the boss of the Immediate Murder Professionals himself guarded one of Asmodeus's performers at Mammon's annual clown fest, you decided to send in an application to I.M.P. luckily for you, the resume you had spoke for you and you were hired.

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Fizzaroli stares at Asmodeus with his eyes slightly squinted to stare up at the sin. “You want to…what?” He sighed, zipping up to sit on the island in their shared kitchen.

“I just think some extra security would be good for you, Froggie.” He said slowly, flipping over the pancake in the pan that he was cooking. “Mammon was right about one thing, and not that I regret doing what I did. I'm just more worried about your safety than before.” He flipped the pancake again before sliding it into the already growing pile next to the stove.

Fizz watched him making breakfast thinking about what he was saying, he understood why Ozzie wanted him to have some extra security but, “I don't wannaaaaa-” He dragged out the syllables flopping down dramatically on his back on the island reaching for his coffee mug.

Ozzie sighed, putting down his cookware and turning to him, crossing his arms and leaning against the stove top. One side of his mouth was curled up. No matter how serious he wanted him to take this, he couldn't find himself to be upset with his antics. “Just think about it, okay, Fizzie? You like going out a lot, so it'd just make me feel better knowing if someone was there when I can't be.” He pushed himself off the counter with his hip strolling over to where he was splayed over the island.

Pushing his legs apart with his own, he slotted himself there, uncrossing his arms to gently place them on the island on each side of Fizzaroli's hips. “I worry for you out there as it is,” he paused looking away for a moment his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth as he looked back to Fizz his eyes a bit downcast, “But now there's even more of a threat to you now that we've been made public.”

Clearing his throat from the embarrassment at the position he was in and to clear some other thoughts, he leaned up on his elbows, reaching one hand up to press against the side of his face. “I'll think about it, Ozzie. I've been dealing with fans for a while. And after the thing with Mammon and also me and Blitz getting captured…I understand your worries.” He nodded his head, making up his mind. “I'll let you look into it, and we can go from there.”

He leaned into the hand on the side of his face, a soft smile replacing some of the worry that was left lingering there. He moved one of his hands to cup the one Fizz had on his face. “Thank you,” he pushed his face down into the crook of the smaller man's neck leaning to whisper into his ear, “Froggie.” He then leaned back up to press a kiss to his lips, staying like that for a moment before pulling away. Fizz had leaned up, trying to follow his lips, but he'd already turned away.

He chuckled lowly as he made his way to the plate of pancakes. “Now! We have a long day ahead of us, so pancakes!” He picked up the plate with a stack of the fluffy aforementioned breakfast food walking over to pick up Fizz with the other arm before making his way to the table.

“Pancakes pancakes pancakes!” He chanted as he was picked up and walked to the table, looking up at Asmodeus admiring his features. Though he did notice while the sin himself had a soft smile on his face, the faces in his fiery mane reflected the worry he'd expressed earlier. That made part of his smile tug down a little. “Is he that worried…?” He thought to himself before shaking his head, focusing on the moment.

Asmodeus sat down in the head chair moving Fizzaroli to sit in his lap as he set the plate down moving another empty one in front of him as he pulled a few off the stack with a fork piling it with syrup before handing it to Fizz with a smile.

He piled his own plate with the same treatment, taking a bite with a self-satisfied sigh. “Alright we have a few things in order for today. Firstly I was thinking if you'd like a new uniform it'll look similar it will just match the colors of my club a lot better.”

Fizz watched as he took another bite before sliding in his own comment. “You mean match your colors better.” The way he said it wasn't a question, just a statement as he looked up at him suggestively taking a bite off his own plate watching the sin sputter.

“Well I mean…yes.” He cleared his throat, looking for his mug as he realized he had left it on the counter.

Fizz looked at the mug, extending one of his arms over there to grab the handle before quickly retracting it back and holding it up to Ozzie with a wink. “Do I make you thirsty, Ozzie?” He laughed at his own sexually charged pun watching Asmodeus take the mug with a huff, not missing the smirk he hid behind the rim of the glass.

He set his mug back down watching as Fizz then leaned for it again taking a drink of his own and he smiled fondly at that knowing he could have extended to grab his own mug that wasn't much farther from where his was originally.

“Like I was saying, the design won't be changed much, and you'll be overseeing the alterations. I'd like for your attire to match the club scene a bit more rather than the so-called “circus” Mammon had going on, but that's completely up to you.” He snapped his fingers pulling out a agenda and a pair of reading glasses appeared on his face (don't take this headcanon away from me) as he flipped through the pages pulling a pen out to write something else. “I'll be calling one of my assistants to host something to find a candidate for one of your guards. Hopefully, they'll be able to pull something together today. I've been talking to them about it since you…got taken from me.” He paused for a moment before quickly getting back on track.

Fizz felt bad that he had to pause for a moment while talking about it, and he nodded along, picking at his pancakes with his fork before taking another bite. His mind wandered a bit, thinking back to the scare he had while being taken but then shook his head to clear that train of thought. He listened intently at the mention of a new uniform thinking about what he'd like. He knew Ozzie would listen to him about his ideas, so he didn't have any worries about that. He was worrying about the body gaurd ordeal, though.

“I'd hire Blitz, but he's too busy running his company.” Was what Fizz heard after snapping himself out of his thoughts. “Though after it got out that I had him protecting you at Mammon’s show, he tells me he's gotten a few new hires. So I may be able to recruit someone from I.M.P if having an imp gaurd would make you more comfortable?” He questioned, looking down to Fizzie, noticing his eyes were glazed over in thought. “Hey…” He brought a hand away from his writing to hold the side of his face. “You alright, sweet thing?” He questioned softly that smooth voice of his bringing Fizzaroli back with a snap.

He quickly nodded, his head leaning away to take a bigger bite. “It just seems like a hassle, that's all. I mean, I'm just an imp. I really don't think it would be that big of a deal.” He rambled before looking back to Ozzie going silent at the serious look on his face. “You were stolen from me by an imp, for an imp. They know how much I'd risk getting you back. That's why I'm worried and think this should be necessary. The Imp, Crimson, who stole you was from a mafia in the greed ring. I don't have as much power there, and Mammon didn't seem to care that it happened under his watch. I will not let that happen again under my own.” He took a breath, calming himself down. “I'm sorry, Fizz, I'm just worried.”

Meanwhile, at I.M.P….

Moxie was in the arms room showing the new hire where his belongings would go and giving him a tour of everything else in the room.

Walking over to one of the lockers, you put your own weapons in where they went and slid the bag you had slung over your shoulder to the bottom. You'd been hired about a month ago and over those weeks before and during that month you'd been assessed. Before coming to I.M.P, you'd been a body gaurd for a few of the higher up clubs.

“Thank you for showing me around, Moxie, but I think I've got it from here.” You nodded your head at the shorter male, closing your locker and sliding the lock in with a ‘click’ before walking to the door, holding it open for him, and then following behind him.

He nodded his head in return. “Well if you need anything, you can come to any of us or Loona if we aren't here. Your bigger outings with us should be rolling in soon.” He held up a thumbs up before walking off.

Walking over to the lounge area, you flopped down on the couch, minding the leathery wings sprouting from your back as you did so. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled mindlessly for a while, occasionally looking up at hearing movement.

An hour or so later, you heard the front phone go off, seeing as Loona was…Lucifer knows where you walked over to pick up the phone. “I.M.P here how can we help you?” You asked hearing some movement on the other end before a different voice replied.

“Yes is this Blitz? This is Fern calling on behalf of Asmodeus.” Eyes widening for a moment at the idea the sin wanted something from I.M.P. you responded quickly. “No this is not Blitz he's out, but I can take a message for him if that would be fine?” You asked politely, waiting for a response.

“Asmodeus wishes to recruit a body gaurd from his establishment. Do you know when he'd be in?” You took a glance over at the time sheet, realizing he'd left over an hour ago. “He'll be back in a few moments. I'll tell him to call you back when he arrives.” You both continued talking for a little longer before cutting the call.

Walking back over to the couch, you awaited your boss to return with a few of the newer recruits that had more training in assassination than you did. You wondered for a moment if he'd send you to the interview since you had more gaurd training than the rest. You brushed that off with a shrug, pulling your phone back out.

A little while later, you heard a portal open up in the other room, and Blitz talking to the rest about some pointers but saying they did good otherwise. “Alright kiddos lock your stuff up where it goes. I'll be back in a minute.” He closed the armory door behind him, spotting you on the couch. “Where's Loonie?” He asked. You stood up, pocketed your phone, and walked over to him, looking down at him. “She texted, saying she went out for a call.” You pulled a piece of paper out of your pocket handing it to him. “Asmodeus's secretary called asking about a body gaurd job and to call that number when you returned.” You repeated the person had said and watched him huff taking the paper.

“Immediate murder professionals not Immediate gaurd professionals. If it comes to it, would you take the job? You did body gaurding before, right?” He looked up somewhat hopefully.

“Yep, mostly club guarding, but I've been hired all around. But for a job like that, shouldn't you hire someone you trust more? And there will probably be others in the line up anyways.” You questioned, tilting your head.

He shrugged. “Nah! Your resume speaks for you well enough that I'd be fine sending you in our name. Let me go talk to the person and I'll get back to you.”

A while of doomscrolling later…

“Well! Looks like you have another interview, newbie!” Blitz shouted excitedly, walking over to hand you a paper with a time and a place on it. “You'll be paid by the hour, and then some of the percentage goes to me, but we can talk about that when you return later if you get the job!” He explained with a grin, raising an eyebrow when you looked at him expectantly. “What?”

You tilted your head, looking at the paper before looking back up at him. “When is it?” You didn't see a date on the paper, so you thought he may have forgotten.

“Ohhhh, it's today. Better get moving. You only have two hours to get to the lust ring!” He laughed at your expression before walking off.

“Damn I guess Asmodeus really needs a bodyguard…why would a king of Sin need a gaurd though…” you thought before jumping over the couch to get to the armory tail flickering in irritance behind you at the time constraint as you grabbed your belongings and made your way to the door.

After nearly missing the train to the lust ring and having to deal with the small space, you made your way to the building, noticing a line outside.

The line mostly consisted of people just wanting to meet the Sin, some who looked like they had some experience, and then a couple of others. Rolling your eyes, you got in line bag slung over your shoulder resume at the ready scowling at some people who got a bit too close. “Just because we're in the lust ring doesn't mean you need to get close an’ personal.” You thought to yourself with a groan.

After a while, you noticed some people being turned away at the top of the line, and then the rest was led to another room. At your turn, you saw the person in front of you walking into that room before turning your attention to the man with the clip board in front of you. “Resume please.” He asked, holding a hand out. You handed it to him, watching him look over it for a few minutes before he handed it back with a nod. “Go into that room.” You raised an eyebrow, not noticing anyone come out before shrugging and making your way into the dimly lit room. You sat down in the chair, looking around, noticing there was another door inside of the room.

Turning your attention to the person speaking to you and eyeing a pin on their jacket, you slid the envelope across the table. “Ah you're the one from I.M.P.” they said, reading over your file.

“Yes, I'm the one you spoke to on the phone, Fern, right? Anyway, I haven't worked at I.M.P long. I was in the body gaurding business long before that.” You took another glance at the door inside the room, noticing a faint glow under the door and hearing voices from inside.

They tilted their head at the mention of them being the one you spoke to on the phone. “How did you know it was me you spoke to?” They looked over your file for a little longer before asking another question. “Why did you go to work at I.M.P.?”

“I recognized your voice, and I saw on the news that my Boss did some work for Asmodeus as a body gaurd so I thought since the boss had done it himself that either he didn't trust his employees or that he was short staffed. Turns out he didn't have anyone to do body gaurding, so I was in luck.”

They nodded their head at your answers to both questions, giving you a look before sliding back your resume with a piece of paper on it that was stamped with Asmodeus's symbol on it. “Lastly, why are you here?”

You took your resume with a nod of your head. “To do my job.” Was all you said before standing up and walking to the other door. “Assuming your boss is in here to do the other part of the interview?” You asked slyly, watching their eyebrows go up before nodding your head and walking in.......

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So what do you think so far! This will be my first multipart fic, so feedback is appreciated! If you want the next part, just let me know. I already have it in the works, and we get to meet the big man of lust and our favorite jester next!

[prodbymaui]

hear me out, famous reader surprises jaehyun during smtown in tokyo 2022 and they end up having a quickie in the green room (screaming😩🧎🏻‍♀️) and then I imagine some male artists from senior groups patting him on the back with a smirk lol

CW: public sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, slight degradation (?)

sneaky public sex is just my cup of teaa, oh my god. and them being known world-wide equally and risking their fame because they couldn't help getting horny at the sight of each other? that's so fucking hot.

you being a fellow singer, just finished filming a content in japan so you took the chance of watching your boyfriend at smtown's concert. jaehyun performing never fails to get your panties soaking and he knows it, so surprise! he pulls you to an empty waiting room, lips sloppily clashing against yours. the kiss would involve lots of tongues and spits.

you couldn't afford to get caught by taking up too much time so jaehyun proceeds to bend you over the makeup counter, holding your throat as a finger tilts your head up, making you face the mirror in front of you. ''Look at me-- fuck, you're so dirty. Letting me fuck your pussy while everyone is outside, you're just one needy baby, aren't you?''

jaehyun's cock thrusts inside of you with a pace that makes your brain scramble, turning you into a mush. forcing your eyes open, you see how jaehyun observes your expressions and when he did, he changes his angle a bit. that's when you see stars, head above heaven as his tip bumps continuously against your spongey button, sending you into a mind-blowing orgasm. how the fuck did he find your g-spot that easily? you don't know.

the both of you thought you did a great job a keeping quiet, apparently you thought wrong lmao. because once jaehyun passes the group of his male seniors who's forming a circle, he receives cheers and pats on his back. most of them talking about how proud they are and he definitely got it from kim jongin.

jaehyun remind himself to ask johnny what's the relationship of his kai hyung to having sex at green rooms later. for now, he'll think about the ways to stop the reddening of his cheeks.

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads CH5 (Homelander x OC)

chapter five: little spider

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: don't be the odd one out, bug boy. time to meet the family

Should one find it comforting to approach the room in which their new coworkers reside and hear heavy bickering from beyond the door?  In a way, Benjamin does.  Despite the annoyance barely disguised on Stillwell’s face, the bug finds it nothing but reassuring that his teammates show no care for strict decorum.

Here he thought the new suit being firmly planted partway up his ass was to remind him to keep clenched and at attention.

There’s no doubt of who’s who when that sliding door parts.

“I’m just saying, a movie about freeing animals from an aquarium isn’t that cool of a concept.” A-Train says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Oh, and baby track star is?”  Counters The Deep as he leans over his side of the V shaped table.

“I’m just saying mine was a box office buster and yours flopped,” the speedster returns with a scoff. “Like a fish.”

“Hey, fuck you man!  At least my movies are about real problems!”

It takes but a simple clearing of the throat and a look not unlike a disappointed teacher arriving to find her class has devolved into chaos to get the two men to cease their bickering altogether.

“Where is Homelander?”  Stillwell asks, sighing in exasperation as her question is either answered by shrugs or flat out ignored.

The team exchanges uncertain glances.  Even Benjamin wonders where he is.  Given how the man in question stalked him mercilessly, he’d think Homelander wouldn’t miss this for the world.  There was satisfaction to be had in this, so just where in the world is he?

Judging by the look on Stillwell’s face, getting Homelander to follow directions was… perhaps a little difficult.

“Well, we can just continue without him.  Everyone,” she gestures to Ben, “this is, as you’re all well aware, Spider-Man.  Consider this your first formal meeting.  Play nice, behave yourselves, and absolutely no hazing the new guy.”

“Yes ma’am,” The Deep responds, which earns him a look.

“Hi, everyone.” Ben waves.  Meeting new people was never quite his forte either.  What was he really even supposed to do, give a speech? Thank them?  Absolutely not.

“We don’t haze anyone here, right gang?”  Chirps that over the top boy scout voice, suddenly appearing as if from thin air.  In the doorway stands Homelander, leather gloves held aloft in his hands and a smile fit to rival the sun beaming to greet the room. His eyes flit to Benjamin, giving him a full look up and down.  “Madelyn, I’m wounded.  You did introductions without me?  Sheesh.” 

“If you’d show up on time, you could be included in the fun.” She snaps back.

Ben knew a history when he saw it, and the two reeked of one.  Homelander, with a huffed laugh and roll of his eyes, saunters past her and makes his way to the head of the table.  The bug bites back a smile when that same swish of the cape from the other night is performed once again for Homelander to sit.

Bet that gets annoying.

“Good luck,” Stillwell whispers before her clicking heels echo down the hall and the door seals.

Yeah, just leave me to fend for myself…

“Well, Spider-Man, take a seat…”  Homelander goads with a gesture to the chair to his right.

That close to him?  Shouldn’t someone else–

“No need to wait for an invitation, bug boy.  Sit.”  The way he watches Ben approach sends a shiver down the bug’s spine.  There was something different in his gaze, something… unknown.  The initial up and down look Homelander had given him seemed only like he was checking out the new suit, but now..?  Benjamin takes his seat cautiously.

His focus snaps away from the bug suddenly. “All right everyone, you know the drill! How'd we do this week? Who’d we save? How are our numbers?”

A-Train and The Deep both begin rattling off their figures, with the latter giving far more enthusiasm.  A-Train’s latest movie, Training with A-Train, was a box office success.  The Deep’s recent sea creature activism campaign raked in a whopping twenty million in donations alone.

Maeve gives some spiel about toy sales with a clear lack of enthusiasm. Then comes Starlight, who mentions having stopped a mugging on her morning walk in the park.

Noir simply nods.

In the cross chatter, Ben analyzes each of their profiles on the HUD in his lenses.  He decides knowing as much about them is best and an excellent opportunity to play with his new tool.  He finds nothing terribly unexpected.  Schooling records, restrictions and limitations, medical information– which he’s surprised is so freely available,  and their regular names.

Reginald Franklin.  Kevin Moscowitz.  Margaret Shaw.  Annie January.

He tries to sneak a peek at Noir, but–

“How about you, Spider-Man?”  Homelander interrupts with a smug grin, leaning forward as if to show how utterly invested he is.  

Of course, Ben wouldn’t have any numbers to boast, no merchandise sales, no product contracts.  It’s all a way to single him out and make him look lesser– on his very first day, no less.  But Benjamin had something. 

“Well, uhm… last night I stopped a couple guys holding up a bodega over in Harlem, and some dudes trying to boost a car a few blocks over.  Oh!  And the day before that, I helped an old lady cross a busy street with her groceries since no one thought to help her out, y’know– I mean, I basically ended up carrying everything home for her, but she bought me a churro so… that was cool.”

Homelander stares at him with an arched brow and a look of mild amusement.

“Oh, I also got some guy from a car accident to the hospital faster than the ambulance could.  Rush hour traffic and all.” 

Behind the mask, Ben chews his lower lip between his canines.  He imagines Homelander didn’t expect him to have something to contribute, let alone something that took up more than a brief second.

Homelander’s eye twitches and he cracks a smile that’s all too fake.  “Wow,” he scoffs.  “Quite the full plate you’ve got there, helping all the old gals out.  Anyway…”

Once the attention is away, Ben goes back to his reading.  He decides to find info on Noir another day as looking over at him for any extended period of time would seem a little awkward, especially given their proximity.  Homelander, though?  It made sense that he should be staring at him.  All eyes on the speaker, right?

The team captain paces in front of the windows, hands behind his back as he laments that The Seven should be doing more, not just looking pretty and selling bullshit.  While he rambles about their god-given power, Ben tries over and over again to access Homelander’s information.

Everything on that file that wasn’t public knowledge was either redacted or nonexistent.  A censored first name, no last name.  No hometown, no education, no medical information.  No age, no birthday… Homelander was a ghost in Vought’s own system.

Which, of course, makes the bug all the more curious of his new boss.  Thus far the HUD hadn’t blocked him from accessing anyone else’s information, so why start now?  Hell, the real question to ask is why Vought would even give him a tool like this.  Did they want him to be able to just scrounge up any kind of information on anyone he wants at any given moment?  It seems a little… odd to simply hand something this powerful over to the new guy.

Of course, with Benjamin being who he is as a person, he’s determined to crack his way past whatever restrictions are preventing him from learning more.  Access to the full system was now a must, but he’d have to wait.  It wouldn’t do well to be caught causing trouble after just being hired.  

Especially not when his consequences were so clearly laid out by the star-spangled supe himself.

“Alright, everyone.  That’ll do it.  Get out there and make me proud!”  Homelander says with an all too forced smile before immediately pointing to Ben.  “Not you, though.  I want a word first.”

The bug wasn’t sure if it was the fact it was Homelander making him stay or the nervous side-eyed looks the rest of the team gave him that made his stomach practically do flips.  

He gulps when the sliding doors seal.

“So, bug boy.  What do you know, if anything at all, about what happened to Translucent?”  Homelander asks as he saunters over, hands behind his back.  His gaze pierces so cleanly through the mask that it’s almost sickening that he has the power to look clear through Ben’s only line of defense.  

“Uhm… I mean, not more than what’s out there already.  Didn’t he get hurt on some mission and he’s–”

“No,” Homelander says flatly.  “Nope, he’s dead.  No mission, that’s just some corporate bullshit Vought made up to explain the open seat while they scramble to unfuck everything.”  He turns on his heel, beckoning Benjamin with a gesture of two fingers.  “Come.”

The elevator ride down is tense and silent.  Benjamin resists the urge to look over at his new boss.  He’s not sure why; it’s not like looking at Homelander was a crime.  Would he follow through with that threat simply because the bug peeked over at him?  Did he know about the HUD?  Would he be pissed about it if he didn’t?

Questions built upon questions until the soft dinging sound announced their arrival to the basement that Benjamin didn’t even know existed.

Homelander saunters out, cape swaying with every step toward what appears to be a morgue.  He continues on, passing workers in lab coats until he stops before a glass window overlooking a separate room full of more staff.  On the table inside lays nothing– or so Benjamin thinks until a woman seemingly picks up a piece of that nothing and drops it into a plastic biohazard bag that sags with weight.

“That’s Translucent, right there.” Homelander announces, tapping his fingertip against the glass.  He stares at Benjamin intently.  “See the box in there by the corner?”

Ben cranes his neck, but he finds it, nodding.

“Made of fuckin’ zinc.  Only thing in the world I can’t see through.  So, not only do we have someone smart enough to kill a supe, they know how to fuck with us, too.”  With a loud sigh and a roll of his eyes, Homelander beckons Benjamin to follow him to a quiet, empty room.

“Now, of all of us, you’re the most active in this rat-fuck infested shit-hole of a city.  I want you out there with your eyes and ears open for anything,” he accentuates his words with a pointed finger. “When you find something, you come to me. Not Stillwell, not those morons in analytics.  Me. D’you understand?”

“I– yeah.  Yeah, gotcha.”

Homelander smiles, staring clear through the mask to read the bug’s expression.  A lingering silence tenses the moment before Homelander tilts his head to the side and inches closer, coming all but toe to toe with the bug.

“You…” he begins, voice low and a smile creeping onto his face more and more by the second to reveal those sharp teeth.  He pats Benjamin’s left shoulder and grips it– not too tight, but just tight enough.

The web-head stands firm, despite how his legs tremble and anxiety stirs in the pit of his gut.  In a flash, the mask is all but ripped off of his head, jostling him forward and causing him to plant his hands on Homelander’s chest to still himself.

Fuck, fuck, fuck–

“There it is,” Homelander lilts.  “That look in your eye.  God, I love it.”

Ben understood without it even being said.  Homelander likes making him feel vulnerable.  He likes how Benjamin backs down the minute the mirage of Spider-Man is taken from him.  How, even if he has it nonetheless, Homelander is the exception.

It certainly isn’t hard to see through the act of removing his mask.

Ben relocates a hand to grip Homelander’s wrist– the one belonging to the hand that holds his mask aloft.

Defiance.

At least what little he can muster, only to have his own wrist snatched and held in a grip stronger than anything he could ever hope to break.

“Ooh,” Homelander purrs, grin growing wider.  “I think you and I are gonna have tons of fun working together.”  He stares into Benjamin’s eyes, carnage incarnate within the oceans of his own.  Homelander leans in closer, almost as if he were a lover going in for a kiss, but he stops short of such an act to flit his gaze up and down the bug’s body.

Benjamin’s heart pounds within his chest, and he gulps thickly at what words follow, hating the way his body reacts to them– or maybe it was the fucking proximity, the tone, the feeling of Homelander’s breath against his skin, he doesn’t fucking know. There's an unwanted tingle of arousal that has him ready to jump out of his skin with pure horror. 

What– why– Oh god...

“You’re my little spider now.”