#yes this another guy that goes through hell

[caniddteeth]

@mossandsnalls i hope you know that history is repeating itself

TEAR DOWN ALL THE LAUNDRY LINES!

GET THE SICKNESS OUT OF ME!

[pacofprunes]

cotton candy grapes

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — very short drabble, reader has pink hair, noncon kissing, biting that draws blood, choking, subtle threatening, drug use

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

somehow, he hadn’t noticed you in the first game. you’d think the only other person there with dyed hair, that was pink, would immediately get his attention. but he didn’t notice until after the games when it was time to vote, you smacking that red X. he only saw your hair though, he wanted to see your face. he knew you had to be stunning.

the voting ends and he sees you on the other side sitting on your bed with your face in your hands. he gets up to go over to you.

“where are you going?”

nam-gyu his lap dog. he sits up out of his bed to see what his owners doing.

“none of your business.”

he walks away towards you, nam-gyu watching the whole time. on the way there he pops a pill in his mouth.

“hello señorita.”

you look up and he’s stunned. god you were beautiful. he whistles at you.

“what’dya say you join me and my team over there beautiful?”

he points to the other side where you see a group of people.

“uh, no thank you.”

“come on babe don’t be so difficult. you’re over here all alone, you need alliances. and i, thanos, the greatest rapper there has ever been, am a great ally.”

you pause and think. it would be nice to have allies in a shit hole like this. but then you think back to the first game. right in front of you, a whole row of people fall forward and get shot. it wasn’t from somebody tripping. no. it’s because this guy who says his name is thanos pushed them. you’re pulled out of your thoughts and look him in the eyes.

“you killed all those people.“

he looks at you with a shocked sarcastic smile.

“did i?”

“yes. yes you did. the first game, you pushed them all. no i don’t wanna fucking be on your team are you crazy?”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes it back slightly before you slap his hand away.

“come on señorita, money is money! you didn’t know those people and neither did i!”

he laughs, sick. he leans forward closer to your face and then moves over to your ear.

“plus, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t join my team and switch that X.”

he leans back and points to the red X on your chest. flicking it. you stand up and ignore him before walking away, going to the bathroom to avoid him. he just stares your way.

“girls who play hard to get are so fucking hot.”

he runs a hand through his hair before going back to his degenerate friend nam-gyu. telling him all about you. granted he twisted a lot of shit. claiming you wanted him so bad, but was just so intimidated by how famous he is that you didn’t want part of that spotlight, and that’s why you said no. definitely was not what you said at all though.

you come back in the room, your pink hair bouncing behind you. god it looked so soft. he should’ve ran his hand through your hair while he had the chance. lights out comes about and he just sits up on his bed, taking another pill. thinking to himself what his next action should be. what if you died tomorrow and he didn’t even get the chance to kiss you? he gets up and walks back over to your side. you were trying to go to sleep, but weren’t asleep yet. he simply just grabs your elbow and pulls you behind the bed, pressing you against the wall.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

he looks you dead in the eye with a crazed look. and rubs his hands through your hair. so fucking soft.

“babe, you’re just so fucking beautiful, what if you die tomorrow? and i don’t get the chance to smoke with you, kiss you, fuck you…”

you give him a disgusted look before he grabs your face in both hands giving you a tight kiss. forcing his tongue in your mouth. you push at his chest with your hands before stomping on his foot and he jumps back.

“you fucking bitch.”

he goes back up to you before you get the chance to get away from him and he grips your hair between all his fingers. you wanted to scream but didn’t wanna make things worse. plus, nobody would help you in a place like this. constant killing and fighting. nobody gave a fuck about you. he takes a deep breath before he breaths it all out into your neck. he wraps his hands around your neck as a warning, rubbing his fingers in circles around it.

“you’re so beautiful, one of the prettiest women i’ve ever seen. just give a handsome guy like me a chance.”

he kisses you again, hands still around your neck, doing light little pulse squeezes every few seconds as a warning. he bites your lip this time drawing a little bit of blood, causing you to go to scream. but as soon as you do, he’s squeezing your throat as tight as he can, you can’t get any air, not even a single noise out. he continues to kiss you before pulling away and looking you in the eyes as you struggle to breathe. finally he lets go and pushes your hair behind your ear.

“i expect you change your mind tomorrow, kay babe? wouldn’t wanna hurt you even more, i really do like you.”

he takes a step back and you guys just hold eye contact and he swings his cross necklace, playing with it in his fingers before opening it.

“if you ever want some, just come to me. the pink one suits you perfectly.”

[sharky-teeth]

anyone looking for more wincest fic recs?? nobody?? okay here you go anyway. i have a bunch of fics i couldn't fit into the other list, so i needed to make a brand new one with more variety this time around. i organized it by wordcount to make things easier, however i rarely read long fics, so these are mostly pretty short. once again this list got way out of hand...

(for mature or explicit rating, you can assume it's [sometimes implied] bottom sam, or it isn't discussed. for bottom dean or versatile samdean, i made a small separate section of my favorites.)

1k~5k

Remember the Mountain Bed by nigeltde (G, 1k): post canon. sam and dean jr. one of the only fics that have ever made me cry and with only a thousand words! this one is so very dear to my heart, heartbreaking in its details, yet warm and soothing at the same time. just gorgeous.

Are You by lovetincture (G, 1k): one of my favorite gen fics. i adore second person POV and this is a great example of how it can maximize impact.

I Was the Dirty Little Boy (E, 1k): a quick weecest sparring session turning into spanking... you know. the good stuff.

Stealth Run by LaughableLament (E, 1k): late seasons + established relationship + possessive dean + slutty sam. i love this author a lot.

State of Mind by lovetincture (M, 2k): the summary goes "It's legal in the state of Ohio." yes it is as good as suggested. the tension in this fic mwahh

The Euphoria Emporium by Laughable_Lament (E, 2k): sam and dean visit a sex shop and dean gets jealous. quick and nasty.

Be Mine by De_Nugis (T, 2k): first part of a short series. for people who love silly, goofy samdean. this is no plot, pure crack. the kind that actually makes you laugh out loud.

Dating for Dummies by sevenfists (M, 3k): there's not enough first time aftermath fics. this has ruined me because it is the exact level of lighthearted i love, where the brothers continue being brothers first and foremost, even after boning.

We Are Drinking Beer at Noon on Tuesday by whirlpoolsleep (M, 3k): neat outsider POV. always love seeing the brothers through normal people's eyes.

With Mercy for the Greedy by whiskyandoldspice (E, 3k): unmatched weecest pwp. the amount of hits/kudos doesn't always mean quality but for this one it absolutely does. this is pretty much flawless in my eyes.

August 5th, 2001 by coricomile (M, 4k): established weecest! this was cute and tender with the right amount of angst surrounding sam's imminent departure. bittersweet ending.

Run It All Over by runawaydr3amer (E, 4k): first part of a series. the classic "brotherly handjobs" scenario, but it immediately stood out to me. really on point voices and hot atmosphere.

Dean's palm would be rougher by FrancesHouseman (M, 4k): hand kink! i think we can all relate to sam here. this has a scene that's hotter than many pwps i've read lol

Know when to walk away and know when to run by deirdre_c (E, 4k): brothers playing strip poker goes too far... set in s3. great sexual tension and a super satisfying first time.

At Least It's Only One Song by ADeedWithoutaName (E, 4k): dean-gifting-sam-a-lap-dance fic. another outsider POV with an instantly likable OC. she can tell there's something off about those guys...

sticks and stones and weed and bones by aeroport_art (M, 5k): sam seeing a therapist at stanford. really great character study and winchester family dynamics. the conclusion to this story is just... crazy. so well done.

Shadows on the Sun by Linden (M, 5k): soft weecest first kiss! the thing i liked most in this story is how protective they both are. nice brotherly feelings.

wretched creation (M, 5k): one of my favorite reads of last year! criminally underrated work with less than a thousand hits. angsty feels and an unsettling atmosphere. dean facing a demon who knows more about his feelings toward his little brother than he'd like.

Forty-One by themegalosaurus (E, 5k): angsty unnegotiated kinky sex with lots of hell trauma. the kind of porn that's so nuanced and well written it doesn't get me horny (that's a compliment!)

Monumentally Stupid by strive2bhappy (5k): dean helps sam shave and it was hotter than i could ever imagine. great banter, tension, and emotional weight.

Double Solitaire by objectlesson (M, 5k): post mystery spot. amazing character study through a very creative concept. this is one of the authors who really knew how to write dysfunctional wincest.

6k~10k

this bullet inside me by missroserose (E, 6k): who's up for angsty first time in a long time? if you enjoy hathfrozen (i'm sure you do), this will definitely hit a similar spot.

Belonging by strive2bhappy (6k): wifey sam. i repeat Wifey Sam!!!

Lucky Streak by merle_p (M, 6k): thirsty pining done so right. incest that gives you butterflies in the stomach, believe it or not.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (E, 6k): nigeltde is an incredible writer. from beginning to end this fic is insane. angsty, desperate, emotional, shameful, this takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions. top notch characterization.

How it Works by Dyed_Red (M, 6k): this is probably in my top ten fics of all time, peak codependent, obsessive, dysfunctional samdean. this particular fic really nails their dynamic and the most delicious, fucked up aspects of it.

Taking to Give by Dyed_Red (M, 7k): lovely character study. this one is a bit softer than most Dyed_Red works, it offers an emotional view of sam and dean growing up. heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

Wire Inside Me by merle_p (E, 7k): the sam-is-carrying-lucifer's-baby fic. this story is great for how it deals with the pregnancy pushing dean over the edge. the first time tension here is excellent!

Dean is badass. Sam has always known it. by FrancesHouseman (E, 7k): very interesting dynamic with sam and dean playing mind games to see who gives in first. i like this cocky sam a lot.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey (E, 7k): CNC weecest. sam and dean go to a haunted house and get up to some nasty freaky shit. it's even better than you can imagine. fyi there's dean in a clown costume.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (M, 7k): set in s6, the aftermath of sam getting his soul back through dean's POV. pure angst and overwhelming emotions, beautifully written, it hurt so good.

Man of Steel by glovered (T, 8k): THE lighthearted incest fic for me. along the lines of paxlux's 'Artery', at least to me. this borders on crack, a hilarious, feel-good story that always makes me smile when i think about it.

Disney Princess Hair by Dyed_Red (T, 8k): gencest/weirdcest in its best shape. sam as sleeping beauty! and obviously dean being very very very weird about handling the curse. i loved how this touched on the obsessive aspects of their relationship while keeping the tone light.

Architecture of Choice by Dyed_Red (E, 9k): yes another Dyed_Red work bc they're my favorite author. this one has one of my fave tropes (fuck or die) and it deals with sam's lack of bodily autonomy in a visceral way.

Pull over by jjtaylor (E, 9k): for my piss play enjoyers! this has lots of great tension and it goes way beyond kinky sex.

This Is All Very Meta by road_rhythm (E, 10k): loss of virginity roleplay fic. except it's sooo much more than that. i thought this would be fun and lighthearted, couldn't have been more wrong. the emotional depth delivered here caught me by surprise, but it shouldn't have, given the author. flawless characterization as usual.

God will forgive me but by sammyatstanford (E, 10k): weecest with lots of pining!sam and angsty yearning. brothers who need each other in sick, twisted ways. there was also a great amount of actual brotherly feelings, which is always a plus in my book.

>10k

Acid by Goshen (E, 12k): to this day one of the most insane things ever written. this fic is a classic, it's a surreal experience, a fever dream. dissecting the brotherfuckers, no stone left unturned.

Baby Blue by Edwardina (E, 13k): sam gets hit with a curse that makes him need to suck on a pacifier 24/7. it turned out to be way less sexual than i expected, this is for caretaker!dean lovers.

Learn to say the same thing by glovered (T, 14k): great case fic. sam and dean go to a singles' retreat in the mountains for a case and eventually have to confront their incestuous feelings. every glovered fic just fills me with joy.

Supersize Me, Sammy by awabubbles (E, 16k): sadly one of the only size queen sam fics ever written, but it is absolutely perfect so i made my peace with that.

Only Natural (Be My Hands) (E, 17k): sam manages to break both his wrists so dean steps up to take care of his needs. and i mean all of his needs.

Relapse by ani_coolgirl (M, 21k): lebanon AU. i adore this fic, i'm in love with it, i think about it all the time and will think about it forever probably. everything here was done incredibly well, one of those fics that feel specifically made for me lol

Edges by glovered (M, 23k): amazing banter and lots of UST. set in stanford era but it's not really angsty. the tone was just perfect for me, this fic had me GIDDY.

Driving Down the Darkness by Nutkin (M, 39k): one of my faves in terms of Brotherly Feels. extremely well written and thoughtful, super slow burn. outstanding early seasons getting together fic that everyone should read.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (E, 46k): my favorite demon!dean fic. some of the wildest scenes i've ever read. pretty disturbing and incredibly delicious. if you're into fucked up consent stuff, this is a must read. it has a happy ending!

Burn the Witch by urchinesque (E, 80k): very solid case fic, set in s10, with sam and dean trying to work through their issues. slow sloww burn, witch!sam shenanigans, mild pining. really enjoyed their voices here.

bottom dean and versatile samdean recs:

Take Backs by saltandbyrne (E, 2k): swesson + switching. hands down one of the best PWPs i've ever read, which was to be expected from saltandbyrne. it really doesn't get filthier than this.

How to Wear Polka Dots by homo_pink (M, 6k): swesson. this one is so so weird. and so charming. interesting and refreshing writing style, i had so much fun reading this.

Here's Your Future by autoschediastic (E, 7k): weecest with teasing!dean for a change. loved the power dynamics here, and the intensity throughout the whole fic. desperate, guilty first time, badwrong at its finest.

Enduring Love by oschun (E, 7k): really enjoyed the relationship study here, insightful and well written.

there will be better days by deadlybride (E, 9k): my favorite heaven fic! so warm and peaceful and emotional, full of love and longing and happy reunited soulmates. just thinking about this story makes my heart ache in the best way. really really beautiful.

Yeah, I'm a Back Door Man (E, 22k): established relationship. dean's hell trauma. this was a rollercoaster, great character study, good mix of angst and schmoop as well. probably the best bottom dean i've read so far (along with a couple Goshen works)

Yesterday, minnesota by Goshen: (E, 29k): speaking of applecrumbledore... this fic truly rewired my brain. the queen of "fucking for years without talking about it until one of them snaps". brilliantly executed, one of my favorite deans ever.

yay it's finally over! still i wish i had more long fics to rec lmao do check tags carefully before reading! enjoy the wincest goodness! do also check out this tiny list i've previously made for 3 of the best angsty fics set in stanford era!

[crushmeeren]

the one where you suck rin’s cock while he plays video games. ⋆

⋆ // yes, yes — i know this is an overdone idea but i couldn’t find one for sunarin so i’m taking matters into my own hands and writing it!

⋆ cw ; a touch of exhibitionism (?), osamu and atsumu hearing rin moan over the headset.

master list

“Hell no, Rin. Not happening.”

“C’mon! Please?” Rin whines. “Pretty please baby? I never ask you for anything!” He pushes his lower lip out in a pout, batting his eyelashes.

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. “Ha! That’s a fucking lie and you know it!”

Rin grins, the neon green and pink lighting from his toad cowboy sign framing his profile. “Okay fine — but I’ve never asked you for this!”

“You literally asked me last weekend.”

“And you said you’d think about it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and spins a fast circle in his gaming chair, coming to a forceful stop by planting his sock covered feet on the hardwood.

You sigh and shake your head, crossing your arms as you rest a shoulder against the door frame. “You won’t be able to keep quiet. You never can when you get your dick sucked. How do you expect to stay silent enough that the guys don’t hear you through the headset?”

Rin clicks his tongue behind his teeth and shoots you a finger gun, smirking. “I do not have a plan, if we’re being honest.”

“I wasn’t aware you had an exhibition kink.”

“Only to show you off baby girl,” Rin teases. He purses his lips in an over dramatic display, asking for a kiss.

You give him the middle finger instead.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Rin giggles when your lips tickle his inner thigh. The sound is innocuous enough, remaining unnoticed by his friends as it passes through the headset.

You place a chaste kiss to the same sensitive spot and the muscle jumps. Rin’s naked from the waist down, and your fingers find the hem of his t-shirt, pushing it above his bellybutton. You tug gently at the backs of his knees, encouraging him to sink further down in the chair until his ass rests on the edge.

He’s complaining to Atsumu about the man’s lack of skill, voice wavering slightly as you take him in hand. A few strokes and he’s fully hard. You lean forward and taste the salty precum beading on his tip before gathering saliva on your tongue, placing it between his balls and licking all the way up.

Rin lets out a breathy whine, then snaps at Atsumu to shut the hell up.

Long fingers rest on the back of your head, scratching gently at your scalp. You glance up, Rin’s eyes already halfway shut. He bends down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, forcing a sweet heat to your cheeks. When Rin returns to his original position you raise a brow and he nods, biting his bottom lip.

Rin took your criticism to heart. He stays silent as his cock slides across your tongue, letting out a long shaky exhale once you start sucking. Bobbing your head as far you’re able without choking.

He focuses on the monitor, the pause between clicks on his mouse growing larger and larger. Rin throbs against your tongue and your panties stick to your pussy the longer this goes on.

Placing one palm on his thigh, the other circles the base of his cock. Your pace quickens, lips meeting your fist over and again, sucking harshly on the way up. You pinch Rin’s inner thigh and he gasps, nails digging into your head, moaning your name as his hips jerk.

Pulling off of his cock, you continue to stroke him, meeting his nasty glare with a smug smile.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Atsumu’s faint, disbelieving voice carries to your ears. “Are you getting yer dick sucked or somethin’?”

Osamu snorts. “Fuckin’ probably. Makin’ us listen to that shit just to gloat about his girl.”

Rin’s head tilts towards the ceiling, another soft moan coming out as you suck him back into your mouth, tongue playing with the tip. “Def — fuck, definitely not what’s happening,” he protests. His voice is too breathy to be believable.

Your jaw relaxes and you press forward, Rin’s cock sliding into your throat. Your nose barely brushes his belly when he cries out, arching off his chair. The tickle in your throat becomes unbearable and you pull off with a cough, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“Fuckin’ hell Suna, get off chat and fuck yer girl! I can’t listen to this shit!” Atsumu’s trying and failing to hide his embarrassment.

Rin laughs and rips his headset off, exiting out quickly.

He smiles down at you with soft eyes, smoothing hair off your forehead and tucking some behind your ear. “You look pretty on your knees for me, sweet girl.”

Your knees ache as you stand, accepting the hand Rin’s offering. “Yeah well, you didn’t last long. So bed. Now. Let’s go.”

Rin’s smile turns coy as he stands from his chair. He palms his cock with the other hand, not keen on it bouncing all over as he walks. “Don’t wanna admit this turned you on?”

“I’ll take care of myself,” you threaten, shoving your shoulder into his as you step past and walk towards the door.

“At least let me watch!”

[mysterymachine67]

SO, i want you to hear me out.

i have to remember all my stuff for re, but let's say we have Leon when he's still just starting out as a cop before he even goes to raccoon city and our beloved reader is a captain in the police department. Leon is a little tired after it all, filing cases and spending nights at the station. eventually the reader catches Leon while he's finishing up documenting a case and they finally get to talking. sooner rather than later they discover they share a couple hobbies and slowly they begin to talk. Leon is stressed and who else but the captain of the station is going to help him and reward him for his hard work?

PAIRING -> Leon S. Kennedy x M!Reader

SUMMARY -> Leon’s new, a rookie. He does his best, stays late to do and catch up on work, and is one of the best men you got even for him to be new. What happens when he finally gets to have a full conversation with his captain?

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

I wanna bite him.

You’ve only known him for about a month and he’s already your favorite. Yes, you’re well aware you shouldn’t be picking favorites, but he stays late, gets papers done quick, and does things he doesn’t need to be doing until a whole month. Meanwhile all the other “older” cops think they get an extra week to do something just because they’ve been there longer. Which was not true whatsoever.

Back to Leon, you’ve spoken to him a bit. Probably not as much as you should, but the thought counts. As far as you know, he’s a hard worker and is dedicated to do his best. But you can also see that he try’s a bit too much. You’ll need to tell him he can take a step back every once in a while.

It was another night, Leon already knew he was gonna have to stay a few extra hours. Sighing he opened up a folder, taking out the notes and documents that were inside. He took a quick look at the papers, going over them yet again. Just as he was about to pull another thing out of the folder, he heard footsteps. Which immediately alerted him. Turns out the footsteps were yours, you were getting ready to leave the station and go home. With you standing there, looking at Leon without saying or doing anything, it was beginning to get awkward. Soooo, you spoke up. Clearing your throat first. “Well,” you begin, starting to walk up to him. “I think we haven’t fully gotten to know each other.” He stared up at you, blinking a few times before responding.

“Oh! Uh..” Leon started, but never seemed to finish. Not knowing what question to ask or how to start off. He stood up, though. Holding his hand out to shake yours, which you did as well. You then started a conversation, first asking a question then following up with a statement. Which this went on for at least fifteen minutes. The both of you going back and forth, asking questions about one another; finding out that you had some things in common and have similar interests. The conversation was sweet, interesting. Yet it took a turn when you got closer to him. It was friendly, not purposely meant to intimidate him or anything. He continued to look up at you, struggling to keep his composure. Why the hell was this so difficult? You kept up the conversation, tried to. You, yourself were starting to get a little amped up. You couldn’t stop stealing looks at his lips, which was a problem. You were his captain, not his fuck buddy.

The sexual tension between you guys was so obvious and strong, but neither of you made a move. That was until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your thoughts ran through your mind and eventually went down to your cock.

He was a stressed out, tired, hardworking man. If you two were to do something, this one night probably wouldn’t mean anything. He needed something—someone to help him. Being not necessarily pent up but in need of some sort of relief. And you were there with him, alone, in an empty police station possibly flirting with him. Yeah, this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Wrong. Things escalated, you moved things out of the way on his desk. Once in the clear, the two of you moved back. Lips connected while grabbing at each other. When he got close enough, he sat himself up on his desk. Hands then coming up to the sides of your face—holding while the two of you kissed. You angled yourself, pressing against him in a way that he could feel you’re hard-on. “Mm..” he groaned, muffled by your lips. Should he be doing this? Absolutely not. Is he going to do it anyway and savor this moment? Yes.

“Y’feel what you do to me? God—“ you huffed, against his mouth. “You work so hard—fuckin’ perfect.”

Leon whined, shifting his position so that he could wrap his legs around you and pull you impossibly close. His hands went down to your belt, starting to quickly undo it. After that was out of the way he started on your pants. Which in the process you bucked into his touch without even realizing. You captured his lips again, this time the kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. The two of you needed each other so bad you kept messing things up. Fumbling with taking off clothes, knocking things over, accidentally forgetting to do something. But in the end, he still got your cock shoved into him as if he was gonna disappear within seconds.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The sweet, sweet sounds that left Leon’s mouth were heavenly. Mouth open, eyes shut, and head back against the table. His legs were wrapped around your waist, purposely squeezing to pull you closer to him—get your cock deeper than it already was. “Such a hard worker, aren’t you? The moment you got here you worked, ‘n worked, ‘n worked.”

Leon whined, dick jumping and twitching at your words. He clenched around you—beginning to squirm. God, he was pretty. The way he reacted to your touch, praise, and whatever else you gave him. The sheen of sweat all over his body made him glisten in the dim light. Which just added onto the list of things that made him fucking beautiful. You dragged your hips back slowly, then pushed forward at the same pace. Your thrusts were slow, yes, but you made up for it by making sure you were deep inside him.

When you sped up your pace Leon cursed under his breath. The brutal pace catching him off guard.

“Shit!”

“Nothin’ you can’t take.” You cooed.

He breathed out a whimper—legs twitching. You leaned down over him, pressing your lips to his skin. His eyes were shut, it was all beginning to be too much. Your cock pushing into him at a relentless pace, your words, your touch. His dick leaked and throbbed—begging for some sort of attention. But it all felt good. It was something he deserved for working so much, so hard. “Oh- ohh..” Leon moaned. He clenched around you, gripping your cock. It caused a low groan to crawl from your throat. Your lips trailed up and up, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before sucking a hickey. Then moving on to his throat, forcing him to move his head up.

In a few minutes, Leon’s back was arching, his hands gripped the edge of the table he was on, and he was moving his hips up into the air as he came. Spurts of white shooting from his tip, and onto his chest; staining that area white. He huffed, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. It didn’t help when you kept thrusting into him, even when your hips started to stutter and fuck up the rhythm you’d set. He began to squirm. A whine slipping from his spit slicked lips.

You moaned, hips jerking as you finally came. You filled him up with your cum, and watched as it soon started to leak and drip from his hole. He felt so full. Stuffed with your cock and your cum. “Fuck..” he whispered. It was silent for a few seconds, well, aside from you two trying to control your breathing. But once you got ahold of it, you leaned back down and whispered straight into his ear.

“We ain’t done.”

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Duke comes home one day from school looking down in the dumps and a bunch of paper work.

"Hey Duke, what's all that paper work for?" Dick asks from the couch as Duke sets the foot tall pile of papers on the coffee table.

"Oh you know, just, bullies making me do their work." The whole room freezes.

Bullies?

"Duke, you're being bullied?" Duke seems to realize his mistake of words. Instead of the excuse he made up to tell them about how he missed a lot of work because of Signal work, he said the truth which was the fact that he had bullies.

"Erm-"

"Duke, why didn't you tell us?" Dick nearly whines out, hurt his foster-brother didn't tell him about having bullies.

"No- guys, it's okay. Seriously. You don't have to do anything about it. Seriously." He eyes Bruce from where the man was about to type in *probably* the school's number to complain.

"Why not? We can deal with those punks for you. Are they being racist or some'n?" Jason crosses his arms, standing in front of Duke with a raised brow.

"A little. But seriously, it's nothing I can't handle."

Bruce rubs his temple.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle this?"

"Yes."

"Thomas, just know, we can step in whenever." Duke turns a smile towards Damian, and places his hand on Cass's when she hugs him from behind.

"Hey- it's the weekend. Let me handle those papers since I've got nothing to do and I'm ban from case work." Tim says, holding his hand out.

"Uh- okay?" Duke hands him the stack, thinking nothing of it, because it's Tim.

Tim takes a look through the papers, scrunching his face a bit before shrugging, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Uh- should I be worried?" Tim looks at him and waves him off. "Nah, don't worry 'bout it. I got this handled."

Uh. Okay?

------------

The following Monday, Duke shows up and puts his stuff in his locker.

Or at least he was until it was slammed shut.

"Hey Thomas. Got our work?" Turning around, Duke faced his three bullies; seniors Clint Rodriguez (the "big dog" as he called himself) and his lackies, Arion Centry and Pete Swinez.

"N-No.."

"No? Where is it, bitch? I told you to have it done by Monday." Rodriguez held him up to the locker. "Oh you mean these papers?"

Turning around, there stood Timothy Drake-Wayne; two three time nepo-baby and the biggest reputation in the school. The real life Regina George and Heather Chandler. He was with his two best friends, also big popular kids and his two Gretchen Wieners, Karen Smith, and Heathers.

"Drake." The mere face of him made the trio seethe. "Hah! You should see your face right now. Anyways, I did your college essays for you, hope you enjoy them. Would be a shame if you had to repurchase the papers for them."

Tim tosses them in the air, and everyone watches as they all fall to the ground.

"What the hell did you do."

"Oh, ya know, the basics of what you should put. Also, this your girl?" A girl, a cheerleader, goes and slides herself under Tim's arm.

"Babe!?"

"Sorry, Clint, but I have a reputation, people can't know we dated. Also, Tim's better looking and a better kisser." Morgan Letto, another popular nepo-baby in Gotham High, turns and kisses Tim right in the hallway, before stalking off.

Tim's trio laughs at their faces.

"Hey! You should probably pick these up, ya know, since they have your names on them. Wouldn't want to get sent to the principles for littering the school. Bad reputation means you can't go to Princeton." Bernard says.

"Or Oxford, or Harvard. See ya losers!" Ives laughs along with Bernard and Tim as they walk through the halls.

As if a bomb dropped, the three seniors scramble to pick up hundreds of papers worth of applications.

" "I'm racist towards black people because they're below white people like me" " Someone reads off of one paper down the hall.

" "I use grades that aren't mine that I bully people into doing for me." " Another person reads nearby.

"Give me those!"

Duke is left standing there, struck by the scene that just unfolded before his eyes.

He didn't know what to say, do, or act.

Should he laugh? Play it off? Call Bruce? Or Tim? Or anyone? Get picked up?

It's fine. It's just one day. Right?

------------

Lunch time rolls around.

Duke is sitting at his table with his friends eating. They were prime targets for Clint and his group.

As if on cue, the three stride up.

"Hey Thomas, got Tim Drake to do your work for you, huh? Well guess what?"

He was spun around and picked up by the collar, his two friends being held back by Arion and Pete.

"You ain't getting away with it here." Clint grits out. Of course he chose the cafeteria, the pretty much only place teachers don't monitor 24/7 and is void of any supervision, even with every grade in there for lunch.

Clint set Duke down and lined his fist up ready to punch him. Duke flinched as the fist came swinging.

"Hey loser!"

Cheers and shocked 'Oooh!'s were heard from around. He squinted one eye open and saw food fall from Clint's red face and a tray in Tim's right hand.

"Woops! Sorry! Guess my hand slipped!" That got a laugh from the crowd. Tim set the tray down and pat Duke's should before stalking towards Clint.

Duke saw behind them at the far wall where everyone could see Ives and Bernard setting three trays of food down (The senior trio's trays).

"You'll pay for that, Drake!" Clint took a swing, which Tim dodged easily and side sweeped him onto his knees.

Ives and Bernard did the same to Arion and Pete.

The three took the seniors by the hair and dragged them to the trays the two laid out previously.

Cameras went up and Duke watched in muted awe and terror at what Tim was doing. Was Tim really like this when he still went to high school? He was a junior now and he dropped out sophomore year? Was he like this as a freshman?

The three pushed the seniors faces into the trays.

"Since you're the big dog maybe you should eat like a real dog then, bitch. Here's some kibble. Dogs enjoy this one!" Tim poured dog kibble onto Clint's tray, seeing as his face turns redder and shows more humiliation than he's ever seen on anyone.

"Eat it, bitch! Like the dog you are! Or start barking and begging for forgiveness!" Tim says it through his teeth in such a grueling tone it sends shivers down Duke's spine.

"Hey Arion! If you actually did your work, you'd know that your name is a horse in Greek Myth. So maybe you should neigh like one too! Neigh, neigh. Get to eating horsey! You should start prancing for the rodeo. Giddey'yup!" Ives mocks him pushing his head into the tray over and over.

"Swinez? More like Swine-ez! Oink-oink! You stink like a pig. And you're eating like one too! Ewwww! Disgusting. Hahahahhaha!" Bernard's name change made the whole cafeteria roar in laughter.

What made the laughter stronger was when the three brought out collars with leashes and attached them to it.

"Come boys! Start walking like the animals you are!" Tim called, pulling on Clint's leash, dragging him mostly until Clint got up and started crawling in front of him.

Everytime they tried to get up, the three juniors were behind them to push them down to the ground again.

Almost everyone was recording.

"Look everyone! Look at our new pets!" Ives called out.

"If you know any better, you three better keep your collars on. You should better than to make your owners mad!" Bernard barked out a laugh.

"I think, you guys should start speaking in woofs, neighs, and oinks from now on. Especially, when we make you ask forgiveness to those you bullied." Tim said, grabbing the collar and forcing Clint to look at Duke.

The bell rang, lucky for those three.

"Woops! Looks like the fun's over! You better clean up for mess! Wouldn't want to make the janitors work more." Tim walked off. "Or look like complete idiots with all that gunk on your face." Bernard said as he and Ives followed Tim.

------------

Later, when Duke got home, he was silent. Bruce was silent too, despite him being the one Duke expected to ask about the bullies since he slipped up and told them.

"Hey Duke, how was school? Did they mess with you again?" Dick asked.

He looked at him, then at the rest of his siblings, noting Tim wasn't there, swallowed and shook his head.

"N-Not really."

"Not really?" Jason looked confused, as did the rest of them.

Before Duke could explain more, Tim came in laughing, tossing his bag on a couch before hopping on Bruce's arm rest.

"Bruce! You won't believe what I did today." Bruce looked at him and smirked. Smirked.

Tim relayed the entire story of what he, Bernard, and Ives did to Clint, Arion, and Pete. Bruce looked proud and the rest looked shocked.

"My reputation still stands even after I've been gone a year!" Tim seemed very proud of that.

"Atta boy!" Bruce ruffled his hair. "Yes, here's the tray of cookies you were promised all to yourself, master Tim." Alfred handed him a whole plate of cookies. "Thank you!"

"What!?"

"Hold on! He gets a whole plate of cookies for that? Why isn't he in trouble!? When did you enroll back?" Jason was beyond furious.

"Tim had a reputation in school for being like that towards bullies. Which is why no one bullied anyone with him around. Guess they all came back when he was gone. Duke didn't want us doing anything, and he didn't expect Tim to do anything because you all think he's a goody two shoes, so I sent my calvary in." Bruce explained.

Tim laughed at their faces.

"Oh please! I'm just getting started with them! Just wait till the end of the week. Then! I'll be done with them and they won't ever come back to the school."

[chocochiffonnn]

Dial Tragedy

➸ Pairing: Idol! Lee Heeseung x Fem! Reader

➸ Word Count: 1.5k

➸ Synopsis: Working an eight to five had you in the absence of your phone, and leaving you with a boyfriend spamming you like crazy with missed calls and messages.

➸ Warnings: Fluff, based on Heeseung's snippet on 'Dial Tragedy', a bit of kissing, the plot strays off a bit, not proofread.

➸ Author's Note: lol just a lil short release from my drafts guys! writer's block been hitting me like CRAZY. also, i refuse to believe her wouldn't call their partner this callsign lmao.

●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·

SOMETHING ABOUT TODAY WAS STRESSFUL— dressed in piles of stress from the tedious workload, buried beneath documents and documents, all of which were due the following day.

The clock inside your lit apartment hit 7PM. Way past your official dismissal. Something you failed to realize as you left the building, simply too busy to get the hell out of there and sink into the comfort of your own couch.

So you do. You take off your feet-killing heels, removed your jacket, and practically threw yourself at the comfort of the soft mattress you’ve been dreaming of since morning.

Then you breath a long, heavy, tired sigh.

It was like a repeat. Paperworks, emails, calls, meetings, brand deals, eat, sleep, repeat. And when you get too tired the world keeps spinning and it tells you, no, it practically demands you to repeat the process you’ve grown accustomed.

You rolled your eyes, reaching towards your bag to open your phone which you had not touched since you left your apartment—

Five missed calls.

Twenty unopened message.

Fuck.

From all the the work and exhaustion you felt from today’s event, you forgot you had boyfriend. Something which you never usually forget so easily. You must’ve been worked to the bone to even let go of the thought that your boyfriend had been leaving you calls and messages.

He must have been worried sick.

Worries ebb your features as you hurriedly open your phone, only to be greeted by another incoming call by none other than the said man. You picked it up, and the first thing that you heard was his hoarse voice—

“… Angel?”

He whispered. You smile, opening your mouth for a brief moment then closing it again.

“Heeseung, baby?”

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls and messages?”

You sigh. As much as it made you sound mean, you do love it when your boyfriend is clingy. Usually, he rarely has time to do so given his schedule of practically touring the world. But then again, it was something that you had to get used to in the midst of your relationship.

“I’m sorry, I was bombared today at work. My boss kept nagging me about some documents that were due the following day. Ugh.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought of your stupid boss.

Heeseung sighs on the other end, “have you eaten yet?”

Smiling, you bit your bottom lip to suppress the chuckle that came along your way. Despite having every reason to be upset and perhaps stubborn, Heeseung had always been one to put others first before himself. A trait which you absolutely adored about him.

“Not yet, I didn’t touch my breakfast nor lunch today.”

“Okay, well… What are you doing now?”

“I’m sitting at my sofa. I can’t even move. Enough about me, what did you do today?”

On the other end, you heard a bit of shuffling. Heeseung grunts a little. “Takeout?”

“Hmm?”

“You like takout?”

“… Yes, why?”

He goes silent on the other end. Then, your doorbell rang. Though exhausted, you pushed yourself forward and looked through the peephole only to see none other than your boyfriend, standing there, a plastic bag in hand.

He spoke on the phone,

“I got you takeout, angel.”

The same words you heard from the other end of the door. With a gasp, you swiftly opened it. Heeseung stood in full view, dressed in a pair of hoodie and sweatpants, holding up your favorite takout with a smile. His hair was a bit disheveled, eyes a bit puffy from the lack of sleep.

“Heeseung?”

“Hi.”

He steps forward, grabs your waist with his unoccupied hand, and kissed your forehead gently. Warmth spread across your stomach as you felt the heat from his body spreading across yours.

“I thought you said you were in Japan for tour.” you mumble beneath him, Heeseung continued to press little kisses on your forehead.

“Mm. We got home earlier than planned. I guess you forgot to backread the message.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—”

He cuts you off, “it’s alright angel. Just missed you.”

Heeseung drags you a but forward, closing the door with his foot. All the while, he keeps your body close to his, not once letting go. For a minute, he stays there, and you slowly engulf your arms around his waist in a hug. Despite being pressed against his chest, Heeseung seemed comfortable with the way you were positioned.

“You’re oddly clingy today.” you muffle against his chest, he laughs, caressing your hair with his free hand. “Angel, I was worried sick. I’ve been trying to reach out since this morning, and you weren’t responding. I was performing with you at the back of my mind and everything.”

Heeseung pulls away from the hug, forming his lips into a thin line. His fingers reach out towards your cheek, squeezing it.

You groan. “Ow.”

“I can’t blame you, but I can’t help but be a bit upset, angel.”

Okay, maybe he was upset.

He plays around a bit, gently dragging your cheeks to the left, right, until eventually, Heeseung just squeezed both cheeks with one hand and kissed you abruptly. “You gotta tell me what’s up, yeah?”

You nod. Your job, perhaps in comparison to him, was much less of a loadwork. Answering calls, dealing with papers, and sitting in front of your desk for ten hours straight. While his consisted of constantly moving around, exerting his body to perform— though, Heeseung had never failed to keep you well aware of his whereabouts and things that’s been going on in his life.

“I’m sorry…” you pout, Heeseung’s little bambi eyes soften and sparkled a little. He couldn’t possibly stay mad nor upset with that face. So, he softened, smiled, and kissed you once more on those plump little lips.

“Let’s eat this takeout I got you, angel.”

“Okay…”

You weren’t budging, shoulders slumping slightly. You felt guilty, you really did.

Heeseung sighed, clasping his fingers with yours as he dragged you to your couch.

“C’mon angel. Don’t stress it out too much.”

Eventually, the two of you reach the sofa, Heeseung carefully sat you down, ignoring the mess of your belongings everywhere. He unwraps the takeout, taking the utensils and generously giving you a piece of the food.

“Aah.” He instructs, playing around a little making airplaine noises and gesture as you giggle at his little antics. You play along, mouthing an ‘o’ as he feeds you what felt like heaven beneath your tastebuds. Heeseung saw you jolt a little, nodding aggressively at the taste of the food.

“Good bite, angel.” he mumbles, prepping another bite for you to take. Occasions like these were rare for you, barely having the time to get your boyfriend all to yourself given his schedule. There were times where you’d wish he hadn’t become an idol at all, maybe settle for a job that’s less intense. But Heeseung didn’t work that way, and the both of you knew it. He thrived in the thrill of the industry. As for you? You supported him as much as you could, knowing performing had always made him happy.

“We had a little post-tour celebration today.” Heeseung brings up, giving you another bite of the food.

“With the members?”

He nods. “They’ve been asking me about us and our relationship.”

“What did you say?”

“And… I’ve been thinking, angel— is it alright if we make this known?”

“Make what known?”

Heeseung hesitates a bit, dropping down the fork and keeping his eyes glued to you. One of his hands find a way to crawl to yours, slowly intertwining them together. “Our relationship. I’ll announce it at our next tour.”

You felt your mind buzz at the thought. To make your relationship public would practically be comparable to throwing yourself inside a lion’s den. You’d be eaten alive. Heeseung would be eaten alive. The group would be eaten alive. Their company—

Heeseung lightly flicked your forehead with his finger.

“You’re overthinking it again, angel. I’ve talked to the manager and the members about it.”

“… What did they say?”

“They asked me if I was really sure about it, the manager even scolded me–”

You lightly pushed him in the chest, “Heeseung!”

“But we’ve talked about it thoroughly. Everything, I swear. This, and us. I don’t want to keep you in the shadows, angel. It’s unfair to you.”

Heeseung gently picked up your hand that he was holding, pecking your knuckles gently. His other hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“I’ve never felt that way, baby. Don’t worry about me.”

The way Heeseung’s eyes shift to concern make you soften a little. Always so kind and thoughtful.

“I want the world to know I have the prettiest girlfriend, though.”

He keeps your forehead close to his, the warmth off his body radiating to you in such a comfortable manner. It was like he always cradled you like a child, careful and considerate. It was practically second nature to him at this point.

“Is that okay, angel?”

He whispers, kissing you softly like it was the first time.

And when you nod slowly, giggling like a toddler, Heeseung simply cooed and cradled your cheeks.

“Okay. I’ll let the whole world know— that’s my girl.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

[ashtxrie]

get your rizz game up! (jeongin)

PAIR. non-idol!jeongin x f!reader GENRE. crazy fluff, all stray kids members included, at the end of the day they're just eight guys, aura losses across the board WORD COUNT. 1.75k WARNINGS. none (failed rizz attempts) NOTES. this absolutely happened i was the coffee table IN WHICH: jeongin is down bad for the huzz but he needs to consult his 7 rizz counselors first…!!

it's not every day that eight guys crowd around the phone screen of their youngest member, projected on the big television screen in their living room ─ but when they do, they're either completely locked in, or locked the hell out.

yang jeongin was absolutely cooked.

"GUYS listen to me. just send a simple 'hi!'"

"felix NO remove that exclamation mark right NOW—"

pulling down a very impassioned minho back to the couch, seungmin crossed his arms, unimpressed. "so... how did we get to this situation again?"

it all started two months ago, when the exact same formation was assembled to delude jeongin into sending you a follow request on instagram. it was, by far, the longest three hours of his life.

after arguments ("HE'S GOING TO SOUND DESPERATE"), insults ("maybe she's into guys who have a bit of loser in them!"), and a near mental-breakdown ("GUYS SO YES OR NO" "YES!" "NO!"), the poor ginger-haired boy was as conflicted as ever to press the not-so-simple blue button.

it's not like you were strangers either — he's definitely made eye contact with you upwards of five times in class! he was basically halfway there! you were falling in love with his charms for sure...

right when jeongin was about to give up and shut down his phone for the day, a notification brought him out of his misery. [@ your name] has requested to follow you.

and the crowd goes WILD!!

claps on the back, wiping fake tears from their faces as the seven other boys embraced one another, as if they were the ones who manifested this absolute alignment of the universe.

jeongin didn't care, nor did he notice, as he was taking a million screenshots of the screen before the notification disappeared. finally liberated from the fear of being accused of instagram stalking, he confirmed your follow and followed you right back — not caring about jisung's protests in the background talking about how he should probably wait a few more minutes. true love doesn't wait, jisung!

but maybe true love does wait. because it has been a whole week since you guys last spoke through instagram, and even that seemed like a stretch for conversation. this was it; jeongin had finally ran out of topics. he had exhausted his (very limited) list of conversation starters — putting his dignity on the line by asking you what the calculus homework was from time to time, stopping only when seungmin laughed at him as he asked the same question for the third time in a week ("DUDE she's going to think you're a D1 slacker").

it doesn't help that your interactions in real life have dwindled as well, other than jeongin's pre-mapped route on campus that allows him to cheerfully wave 'hi!' to you on your way to class. the last time he truly had a conversation with you, you had complimented his shoes (it wasn't the diabolical jurassic stompers 1 2 unbuckle those shoes this time guys trust... or maybe it was) and he had nearly passed out. if he hadn't been keeping his aura in check by monitoring his own movements, he definitely would have stared at you, open-mouthed in shock right then and there.

but that was two weeks ago. the jeongin lore environment is now drier than the sahara desert. we need improvement, now!

so that's how we get seven self-proclaimed top-of-the-line rizz counselors, hooking up jeongin's phone to the television through airplay to cook up something foolproof.

unfortunately for jeongin, there is a lot of debate on what foolproof looks like.

"whatever you do, just don't send the exclamation mark," minho warned.

"i still stand by my 'hi!' idea," felix advised.

a series of "NO!"s were yelled out.

"too simple."

"too bland."

"what about a 'how ya doin?'" chan offered. "with a winky face?"

they all cringed simultaneously.

"by far, that is the worst idea..."

"chan... i think you're in the wrong generation to be giving advice," seungmin deadpanned.

jeongin put his head down. and they said chan was supposed to be the best at this!

"it's time to be a man," changbin laughed, putting both hands on the coffee table. "just be more dominant."

"dOMINANT?!"

and the room erupts in chaos again.

"okay wait, how about you just write her a long, heartfelt message about how you feel about her?" hyunjin cut in, grinning deviously.

the boy looked terrified at the suggestion. "definitely not. that's so out of character for me."

"everything about this is out of character for you," shrugged hyunjin. "look, how about you post a fit check and put some cryptic lyrics over it. it always works, trust."

and that's how the youngest found himself digging through his closet for the most mogalicious outfit he will cook up for 2025.

under usual circumstances, this would've been right up his alley. but the stakes were higher than ever today, and jeongin found himself being rushed with "BROO just take a photo already" after his eighth outfit change of the day to find the best effortlessly-trendy-but-not-too-aloof combination for the most important post of his entire life.

cooking takes time.

hyunjin was nominated to be the designated photographer of the day, clicking the shutter button at millisecond intervals and praying that one of them was the shot. the older boy was having the time of his life, twisting his hand at every angle (while doing dramatic back bends), sniping jeongin like no tomorrow.

"you're doing great sweetie!" minho yelled from the other room.

"how's it going guys?" bang chan peeked through the doorframe, holding the bowl of instant noodles that he had made at the beginning of this makeshift runway show. the noodles have since cooled down, with chan's chopsticks sticking out precariously from the near-empty bowl.

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE PLOTTING MY DOWNFALL," jeongin cried, swiping through five consecutive photos of himself mid-blink.

"oh. yikes i really caught you lacking with that one... keep swiping i swear there's beautiful ones too."

it then took fifteen more minutes of jeongin analyzing song lyrics with full rhetorical analysis before he had a postable instagram story. he even recruited seungmin to help him press post.

"AAAND... POSTED!"

and now we wait.

not even a whole minute had passed before you liked his story.

"HOLY SHIT IT'S HAPPENING."

"JEONGIN YOU BETTER LOCK THE FUCK IN."

"that response time is genuinely CRAZY."

then you started typing.

[[your name] sent a message].

the living room exploded with yells, with each member pointing at the tv screen with their own piece of (contradicting) advice.

"OPEN IT OR SHE'LL THINK YOU'RE UNINTERESTED."

"DO NOT OPEN THAT—"

"HE HAS TO."

"THAT'S WHY YOU CAN'T PULL."

"OH SHUT THE HELL UP—"

chan decided to save poor jeongin. scooting over, he told the youngest of the secret method: looking at the preview without opening the message itself.

except that backfired.

because it said 3 new messages. dammit!

ignoring the chaos surrounding him, jeongin's eyes flickered around the room to decide his next move. should he risk it all?

"JUST OPEN IT ALREADY!"

so he did.

and oh my god. this is not real.

"fit is FIREE 🔥🔥"

"as always tbh"

"lock your closet tonight"

your messages rocked jeongin's world, i fear. jeongin's world was also literally being rocked by the sheer decibel level vibrating through the house at that exact moment.

"SHE WANTS YOU," yelled changbin.

felix nodded aggressively. "SHOOT YOUR SHOT NOW."

jeongin looked up, exasperated, with ears burning red. "but. WHAT do i say?!"

"ok look," said minho, swinging his leg over the couch to sit next to the youngest. "she swiped up on your story, which, by the way, has already exceeded my wildest expectations. you can say anything at this point and she'll still be halfway in love with you."

jisung shrugged. "i think you should send 'ouuu do you fw me.'"

"might as well send 'you DON'T pmo ❤️' then as your next message," groaned seungmin.

"yes! and top it off with a 'will you be my huzz ❤️' too!"

"STOP."

"at least i'm offering suggestions—"

jeongin was on his own.

his fingers started typing before he could form coherent thoughts. (thankfully, he did hear bang chan telling him that "whatever you do, just don't stop at liking the message" #blessed him up)

"haha thank you"

"that means a lot to me!"

"also wdym your outfits are crazy good too"

it was a little awkward, a little cute, but very organically jeongin.

"is this tuff," jeongin whispered to chan.

"very," chan affirmed.

the crowd, however, was not impressed.

"we take our eyes off the screen for FIVE seconds and he's already fumbling."

"TRIPLE TEXTING???"

"JEONGIN PAUSE—"

jeongin didn't gaf. because his target audience was REACHED.

the moment he saw you typing, he was back at the edge of his seat. "omg thank you," you sent, before your three typing bubbles appeared again. "funny story but remember the shoes that you wore two weeks ago? i actually got the same one!!"

the word count of your messages (and the shoes comment) made jeongin turn around to the rest of them with a smug smile on his face.

"and you all were massive haters about my footwear," he huffed. (he was hyperventilating)

"HURRY UP AND REPLY, DAMMIT!"

he was too invested. jeongin continued to type. "no way."

minho facepalmed. "and we've entered sahara territory again."

jeongin didn't know what came over him as he typed out the sentence and pressed send. "we could twin if u wanted to hangout sometime??" in fact, he typed it out at record speed just so he wouldn't process his own actions and stop himself from the top 1 riskiest text of his entire lifetime.

the room was silent.

at last, all eight boys huddled around the tv screen froze mid-action, eyes widening as they witnessed what had just been done.

"oh shit," whispered jisung. "we should've went with my idea."

it was agonizing. then eight unison gasps. the typing bubbles were back!

you replied."what about tomorrow?"

jeongin jumped up, staring at the message with wide eyes. then he locked the fuck in. "12 pm?"

ding! "i'm down :)"

and that's how yang jeongin, the youngest of his friend group, secured his first date.

he blinked.

then it hit him.

"oh my god it happened. IT HAPPENED!"

"WE are locked in twin. WE are pulling the huzz."

little did jeongin know, seungmin was recording. the entire time. he's totally playing this at the wedding.

TAGLIST: @enhacolor

[prettydaisygirl]

OMG. I cant beleive I found a new writer who can feed my james potter delusion! Generally I'm a silent supporter but after reading your Aus, you literally have unlocked a new part of my brain. Your ideas are truly amazing ❤️ pls keep blessing us with your works🙏🏻

I feel like the au idea which I have in mind you can really express it.so may I pls request a college au with fratjames potter x reader.where they both are acquaintance and something happens.due to some misunderstanding reader is the receiving end of James wrath.after realising his mistake he makes a sweet apology gesture to reader and wants to get in her good books.

It's just a just my apology if you couldn't really get the idea( english is my 2nd language and I don't feel confident in it)

P.s pls feel free to ignore it ❤️Have a wonderful Day/Night💗

Hello, my love! Thank you so much for the request! This is my first request so I'm a little nervous haha, I hope this is what you were looking for :) Your words are so sweet, and you really made my day! Also, I'm kind of obsessed with frat!James now... Have a wonderful day/night yourself, lovely <3

frat!James Potter x fem!reader who was supposed to bring the beer ✿ 1.4k words

cw: fem reader, marauders as frat bros, alcohol (or lack thereof), armed store robbery with a gun (not described in detail), reader is James' lab partner

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

part two

James is having a bad night. It’s 8pm on a Friday and he hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol yet. This is unusual, especially given the music blaring through the frat house with enough bass to shake the foundation. There are dozens of people here. Most of them know James even if he doesn’t know them, which is great until it isn’t.

Another one approaches him, some guy by the name of Marty or something.

“Dude,” The guy raises his arms and James’ annoyance skyrockets. He already knows what this guy is about to say. “Where’s the beer?”

“I know,” James grunts at him. Barty, that’s it. “I’m working on it.”

Barty scoffs but James is already pushing past him. He pushes through the crowd, many of whom move quickly to get out of his way. His eyes scan through, looking for someone in particular.

Where the hell are you?

James makes his way to the kitchen, seeing the counters still bare and no sign of you anywhere. He curses under his breath and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list. Just as he presses the call button, Sirius approaches him. James holds up a hand but Sirius speaks anyway.

“Prongs, where are the drinks? If one more Alpha Tau tells me my party sucks, I might go to prison.” James just glares at Sirius’ dramatics, the phone ringing endlessly in his ear. It goes to voicemail and he hangs up with a groan. 

“I thought you said you handled it!” Sirius stresses just as Remus walks into the kitchen, beelining for the two of them.

“I did!” James argues, running a hand through his already unruly hair with a huff. 

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, crossing his arms and looking between James and Sirius with a narrowed stare. “Is this about the beer?”

“Yes!” Sirius stresses again, and points at James, “It’s James’ week to get drinks. But here we are, at 8pm on Friday and…” Sirius gestures to the empty countertops. “No drinks!”

“You tell ‘em, Sirius!” James hears Barty shout from across the kitchen and James fears he and Sirius might both end up in prison together. 

“I thought I handled it.” James tells both of his frat brothers, shrugging a bit.

“What does that mean?” Remus asks, his brow furrowing. “Did you buy the drinks or not?”

James at least has the decency to look sheepish, running a hand over the back of his hair as he inhales through his teeth. “I may have… asked my lab partner to get it for me.”

Sirius gasps, raising a hand to his chest as though clutching his pearls, “I thought pawning drinks off on someone else was against the rules!”

“It is.” Remus tells Sirius, looking at James with an expectant stare. 

“I was using it as an excuse for us to meet up, you know? So the two of us can hang out…” James feels his stomach churn when Sirius’ face bends into a knowing smirk. 

“Oh, I understand…” Sirius winks at James, “To ‘hang out.’” His air quotes make Remus roll his eyes and James glare harshly.

“Someone needs to go get drinks.” Remus reminds the two of them. The party crowd is getting routier behind him. 

“James, it’s your week, so off you go.” Sirius nudges James toward the front door. “You never know, you might find your lover along the way!” 

“Oi, fuck off!” James calls back to him right as the door slams closed behind him. 

As he begins the trek to the store, he attempts to call you several times. Every attempt is met with voicemail. He texts you, and all of them are left unread. James finds frustration and anger building in his gut, not solely from the lack of alcohol but also from being stood up, apparently. James Potter has never been stood up in his life. 

On his seventh attempt to call you, it doesn’t even ring. It goes straight to voicemail. His jaw clenches and his fists ball up and he finds himself spewing words he shouldn’t say, airing his frustrations out to you. He calls you things like selfish and rude, and even a bad friend. 

By the time he turns onto the last street, his anger has mostly turned into disappointment. He’d really been looking forward to seeing you tonight, and though it hadn’t been to sleep with you like Sirius had suggested, he had been considering it your first date. 

James is lost in thought as he approaches the store, steps scraping gently across the pavement. He’s thinking about what he might say to you during your lab on Monday when he hears your voice. It catches his attention immediately and he looks up, eyes searching for you. 

There you are, just as pretty as always, but something’s wrong. You’re standing in front of the store, tear-stains evident on your cheeks as you speak to a police officer. James’ heart sinks into his stomach and he’s by your side before he can stop himself.

“Hey,” His voice is low and soothing, more comforting than he thought he could be but you look up at him like he’s saved your life and his heart pounds. “What’s going on?” 

James’ eyes dart nervously between you and the police officer, but the uniformed man shakes his head a bit. “I’ve got everything I need. You gon’ be okay?” James is a bit confused but he realizes the officer’s words are directed at you when he sees you nodding.

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much.” Your voice is a bit choked and you wipe at your cheeks before turning to him. He feels like he needs to scoop you up in his arms, to do something to help put you back together and get that look out of your eyes. 

“What happened?” James’ hands reach for your arms, settling on your elbows. His thumbs brush over your skin soothingly and you feel tears burning in your eyes again at his gentle movements.

“I was…” You swallow thickly when your voice cracks, “I was trying to get the drinks for your party and some guy came in and he was yelling at the cashier, and he… he had a gun, and I didn’t know what to do and you kept calling me and I was trying to answer but-”

James shushes you before you can continue spiraling, shaking his head. Guilt surges through him, knowing what his texts say. And that voicemail…

“Don’t worry about it.” He assures you, and his dark eyes meet yours. “Is it okay if I hug you?” As soon as you nod, he wraps you in a tight embrace, like he really is trying to put you back together. You both stand like that for a long moment until he feels your body relax, your soft sigh brushing his ear in a puff of warm air. 

James pulls back and moves to cup your face with one hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tell him with a soft nod and an even softer smile. It’s one that gives James butterflies and he suddenly feels bad having you look at him like that when…

“Just… delete all of those texts from me.” He says, and your brow furrows, lips parting a bit to question him but he speaks again before you can. “And please don’t listen to that voicemail.”

You look to the side before your eyes meet his again, a confused smile on your lips. “What? Why, what did you say?” The smile fades when James doesn’t play off his words like he always does.

“Okay, I’ll delete them.” His face relaxes a bit at your words and he looks back up at the shop. He hears his text notification sound, but he ignores it, his eyes settling on your face again instead. 

“Do you… Are you still coming to the party?” He asks, and he hates the way desperation is plain in his tone. 

“I was hoping to, yeah.” Your smile turns a bit shy and sweet now and James beams, his hands on your shoulders.

“Okay, great! So we’ll get drinks and then walk back together!” His smile falters and he hesitates then, looking back at the store. “Actually, you wait here. I’ll go get drinks. You don’t need to come back inside.” Your heart almost breaks at his consideration for your feelings. You move up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Okay,” You say, “I’ll be waiting right here.” 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[snail-day]

Rotations

Sum: You're a rotating nurse but you somehow became the emotional support toy for two department heads.

Yan! Shoko x Reader x Yan! Utahime

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Hospital AU, Noncon/Dubcon, Medical play, Power Imbalance, Blackmail, Overstimulation, Toxic Relationship, femdom, Crying during sex, Squirting, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. MDNI.

WC: 3.5K

a/n: Bruh, what is up with me and baby trapping lately? Anyways, Utahime has a breeding kink <3

Now, you’d think being a nurse has its cons, and yes, there’s the obvious ones. Like how it’s basically working at an airport where everyone is screaming because they missed their flight and somehow it’s your fault the weather is dogshit. Add in a little sprinkle of constant piss and vomit, and ta-da! You've got Healthcare! 

You could deal with that.

What you can’t deal with is being the rotating nurse caught between a couple that should’ve signed divorce papers five years ago. Maybe even a restraining order. 

To be fair, this isn’t your first rodeo. You already peaced out of one department after some white-haired freak and his husband couldn’t take a damn hint that your pussy only gets wet... for, well, pussy. Bless their hearts, though,  at least they didn’t drop the tired “you just haven’t met the right guy yet” line. No, they were polite. Courteous, even. Just a hum and “You know where to find us,” before the dark-haired husband sauntered back to running the psych ward. 

Which is how you ended up bouncing between two fresh levels of hell: Pediatrics, Utahime’s territory,  and ER, Shoko’s battleground.

You don’t have a favorite. Because both are nightmares in their own way.

Pediatrics? Sure, you’ll take the screeching parents, because at least they’re scared for their kid. That you can handle. What you can’t handle is the department head who stares at you like she’s already decided where the nursery’s going. Utahime doesn’t ask. She grabs. Pulls you into whatever broom closet nearest, slams the door, and chucks her pager somewhere into the abyss of trash bags and paper towels. Her lips are soft as they clash against yours, already tugging at the cartoon kittens on your scrubs as she breathes, “Aren’t the babies so cute? God, you’d look so good pregnant.”

It’s easier to pretend with her. To arch into her warm palm, to whimper when her fingers swirl against your clit, to whisper a mangled “I love you too,” because it’s the only thing that gets her to slow down, to kiss you like you’re real.

You're always relieved when her pager goes off. Thanking the universe or whatever higher power has granted you mercy. Watching her pretty pout as she pulls away, whispering she'll "make it up to you later." Honestly, you’d rather she didn’t. Because you’re left there alone, trying not to cry in a supply closet while people outside are praying their babies make it through the night.

It’d be rather pathetic to cry over your little situation, you’d think. So you better suck it up buttercup and make it through another day in the levels of hell. 

Now, Emergency,  that’s a different beast. You’re too busy to get laid most days. Shoko, at least, has the decency to admit the job sucks. Death. Blood. Screaming. She doesn’t sugarcoat it.

She just slips a little candy into your pocket with a scribbled note: Meet me by the smoking area.

And when you get there, she’s already waiting, smoke curling from her lips, eyes narrowed like she’s about to scold you for being late. But the second she sees you, she moves. No hesitation. You're slammed against the concrete wall before you can speak, her mouth ghosting over yours, cigarette still smoldering between two fingers as her free hand slips between your legs, pressing hard through your scrubs.

"You looked so sexy elbow-deep in that guy’s chest," she hums, coffee colored eyes half-lidded, voice smooth. "Bet you’d be even prettier cumming against my hand."

You barely manage a whimper before she’s moving in earnest, tight, punishing circles that leave you gasping and twitching. Your nails scrape down the wall, desperate for something to hold onto, splintering against the concrete as she keeps going.

Shoko's not the type to kiss you. Well, not during quickies like these. Doesn’t let you catch your breath. She doesn’t coo or soothe or give you anything soft.

She just works you over like another procedure, fast and efficient, done right the first time. No mistakes allowed. Just her fingers buried in your tight pretty cunt that sings for her. Leaving you only with that clinical detachment in her eyes, like you’re nothing more than a body on the table.

Her pager goes off again. She doesn’t even glance at it.

"Come on, sweetheart." Her voice is calm, almost bored. "If you take too long, that man’s gonna die. I could be there right now cracking open his ribs. But you had to come find me, huh?"

You try to apologize, try to speak, but she only tuts and presses harder, grinding her palm against the soaked fabric like it’s your fault she’s doing this.

"Jesus," she mutters, half-laughing now. "You’re already dripping. Don’t act like you didn’t want this."

And when you finally cum, hard and far too messy, crying into the crook of her neck, she only pulls back to flick her cigarette to the ground and pick up her pager.

"There we go," she says, slapping your ass once as she straightens her lab coat, already tucking her pager back into her pocket as if she didn’t make you cum against a wall in under ninety seconds. "See? That wasn’t so hard. Now let’s go save a life."

So yeah. Work is its own flavor of hell. It’s not like you haven’t tried going to HR about it. You have. Multiple times. Every time you walk in there, bright-eyed and shaking, it’s the same damn story.

"Well… they’re really respectable individuals!" "Been working here for years, you know!" "They’re married, actually! That’s sweet, right?" "No, no, it’s not that we don’t believe you - "

But their voices always trail off. Replaced by the sound of glances. The kind that say we don’t get paid enough for this.

There’s always a long pause. Then a wince from the intern behind the desk as he leans over and mutters to his mentor, “She’s crying. Should... we go?”

As if you’re the problem. As if the tears pooling in your eyes are the inconvenience, not the fact that Utahime left bite marks on your chest this morning and Shoko made you cum so hard your knees gave out ten minutes ago, between codes.

Because apparently, it’s hard to take a victim seriously when the predators have tenure and a joint tax return.

You sniffle, wiping your mascara with the back of your hand, smearing it more than anything. Your throat aches from holding it together. You’d rather be elbow-deep in shit and vomit, dealing with feral patients and hysterical family members, than sit through one more condescending HR meeting where your trauma gets filed under “miscellaneous.”

So you do what you always do. You drag your aching feet toward the locker room to clock out after your sixteen-hour shift. Your spine’s screaming, your heart in shambles, and your skin still smells like antiseptic and vomit.

You just want to go home. Take a shower. Pee. And go to bed.

But of course, there's only so much luck a person can have; they’re there.

Shoko and Utahime, mid-argument near the lockers, voices hushed. Shoko’s in her usual low drawl, arms crossed, while Utahime’s biting back fury with a tight jaw and flared nostrils. It’s nothing new. They’ve been circling each other like this for weeks.

Maybe it was just the fatigue. Maybe it was the quiet hum of fluorescent lights. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten a real meal in two days.

But you break. Full-body, shaking sobs right there in the entrance to the locker room with the door shutting behind you. A foreign sound ripped from your throat, something you’ve been holding in since your first shift.

And Utahime is on you in seconds.

No longer in her bright hot pink scrubs, now dressed in something civilian, motherly perhaps, given the sweater. Slender hands move to cup your face, swiping away your tears with the pads of her thumbs. Ignoring the snot and the harsh cries echoing in the room.

"What happened?" she coos, voice sugar-sweet. "Shoko and I aren’t arguing, baby." (They were.)

She strokes your cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Murmuring gentle nonsense into your hair, acting unaware that she is part of the actual problem.

Meanwhile, Shoko zips up her bag in front of her locker with all the emotional investment of someone tossing out biohazard. Her scrubs hit the bottom of the bag with a dull thud, still stained at the cuff from whatever last trauma she patched up, and her voice doesn’t so much as waver as she mutters without looking your way:

"What’s wrong? Worried we’d find out about your little HR complaints?"

Utahime shoots her a glare so sharp it could slice. You’re being mean, she mouths, tight-lipped and furious. Voice softening again the second she turns back to you. Hushing your hiccupping sobs gently, guiding you down to sit on the bench by the steel-grey lockers, her hands never wavering from your skin. You feel yourself go limp under her touch. Sometimes its better to be tended to bare it all yourself.

She moves between your legs and crouches in front of you, knees hitting the floor, perfect posture as always, warm palms sliding up your thighs. Those soft brown eyes blink up at you, too wide and warm, like she’s never done a cruel thing in her life.

"I think you’re a little overwhelmed, baby," she murmurs, her voice like honey melting in tea. "Not everybody’s built for days this long. But it’s okay. Shoko and I can take care of you."

Her voice shakes slightly at the end, not with fear, but barely restrained eagerness. You can feel it in her grip. That tremble, that quiet thrum beneath her skin like she’s thrilled. Behind the blurry shimmer of your tears, you can almost see the smile tugging at her lips. That little spark behind her lashes at the thought: You. At their place. Safe. Caged. Loved.

You glance over at Shoko.

She smiles at you, that lazy half-smirk she always wears post-shift, her tired eyes softer now that the chaos of the ER is over. She looks calm. Pleased, even. Right before she tilts her head and drawls,

"It’d be a shame if the authorities found some... really secure medication in your pockets on your way back to your apartment."

Your breath catches, but Utahime doesn’t even flinch. As if this was what they were arguing about. What to do with you.

She just hums, warm and low, and moves her hand closer to the tender heat between your thighs. Again. What was this now? Your third orgasm of the day? Maybe fourth? It all blurred together at this point.

You shift uncomfortably, trying to squirm away. "I’m too sore," you managed to mumble, voice cracking at the edges. A broken sound.

Utahime hushes you gently, her tone almost maternal as her fingers begin peeling your scrubs down your hips with gentle care.

"Shhh, baby," she coos, folding the fabric like she’s tucking in a child. "Just getting you ready to go home."

But her eyes fixate on your panties, the pretty pink rose in the front, slick with arousal. She leans in, slowly and spreads your sore legs from standing on your feet all day wider. Her pretty pink tongue drags a slow, delicate stripe over the pink cloth, circling your covered clit with cruel, experienced swipes. Dampening the cloth. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into your thighs when you try to close them. Barely hard enough to break skin, leaving pretty crescents for later when you cry in the bath looking at them.

Meanwhile, Shoko speaks casually, as if you’re not gasping from her wife's mouth.

"We got a notice from HR today," she says, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "They wanted to fire you, you know. Said you’d been a real problem lately - all that whistleblowing. But we were kind. We made sure our pretty girl was leaving on a good note... contract-wise."

You whimper as Utahime's tongue presses harder, your panties soaked now, fingers tangling into her hair, dragging against her scalp, as your hips buck without thinking. More. Your body doesn’t care that it hurts. That you’re raw. It just wants.

"We told them the whole thing was a cry for attention. That you weren’t being harassed, you were just trying to get between us. Trying to ruin our marriage."

You try to shake your head. Try to deny her. Try to say something, anything, but all that escapes is a wrecked little moan when Utahime finally hooks her fingers into your sopping panties and drags them to the side. Her breath flutters against your folds, watching you twitch and squirm as she moves to dip in. Kissing your sweet little bundle of nerves softly. Lips brushing against your folds, savoring every little taste of you. Ignoring the musk as she swirls her soft, teasing tongue over your clit.

You jerk when her thumb pushes your folds apart, the humid press of her breath causing your thighs to tremble during her first lick. A long stroke against your entrance, slow and savoring before pushing in.

The thick muscle invading your tight walls as you clench around it. Hips bucking to get her to move faster, alas, she's cruel and keeps a slow pace. A broken sob breaks through your throat. A hum vibrates against your folds, low and sweet, as she laps at you with that gentle insistence that makes your thighs forcibly close. The only thing preventing them is her death grip. Those gentle hands, holding your trembling thighs wide open as you try to writhe away from how good it feels.

A good that should feel wrong.

Your walls pathetically flutter around her tongue, helplessly clenching with each slow press deeper. She wiggles it, twisting just enough to make you gasp, and then does it again. And again.

And again.

You let out another broken, pathetic sound - high and choked - as your head falls back against the wall. Your hips try to jerk forward, trying to ride her mouth as Utahime pulls aware with the sweetest giggle. Using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

Shoko lets you writhe and whine for a moment before she reaches out and pulls you into her lap, arms cradling you like a doll. Her legs force yours wider, your body trembling as her slender fingers spread your delicate folds open, keeping you exposed as Utahime presses in again. Her tongue pushes into your fluttering, soaked cunt, fucking you lazily with obscene wet sounds echoing in the sterile locker room.

Shoko leans in, her lips brushing your ear.

"So?" she whispers, grip tightening. "How are you going to save our marriage?"

You can't answer.

Your back arches instinctively, helplessly, as Utahime sinks two fingers deep inside your pussy, knuckles flushed to your slick folds, her wrist working unforgiving strokes into your already sore heat. She’s not speaking anymore. Just watching. Lips parted slightly, sweat beading at her temple, eyes locked on the way your cunt sucks her in, greedy and twitching despite the overstimulation.

It’s too much. You’re raw. You’re pulsing. Your body keeps going even when your mind wants to shut down.

Shoko brushes a stray tear from your cheek with the back of her finger, so sweet you might almost forget what her and her spouse are doing, until she speaks again, voice thick like poison.

"So?"

You don’t answer again. Not even when you try to mutter a please stop. Not when Utahime curls her fingers just right, dragging across your most sensitive spot, and your whole body jolts.

Shoko chuckles softly. Shifts beneath you, keeping you cradled in her lap, her long legs spread wide to hold yours open, while her wife treats you like a patient splayed out on the table.

"I asked you a question, dove," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "How are you going to fix what you did?"

Utahime’s pace quickens, her palm slapping softly against your pussy with every cruel thrust. It’s wet. Messy. Loud. Resting her cheek on your thigh, not even wincing at the juice spluttering out of your leaking cunt.

You try to answer. You really do. But all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper, your voice catching as your hips jerk forward. Your hands scramble for something, anything, gripping Shoko’s sleeve, clawing at Utahime’s wrist, but neither woman falters.

"Mmm… that’s not a very good apology," Shoko sighs, fingers trailing down your stomach, pressing just above where Utahime’s knuckles disappear into you. "You lied to HR. You embarrassed us."

"Come on, baby," Utahime whispers against your inner thigh, voice trembling, "show us you’re sorry. Let us feel it."

Shoko reaches between your legs, slipping two fingers around your clit and circling slowly, not to help, but to control the rhythm. Your legs kick. Your head tilts back with a sob.

"There she goes," Shoko purrs, grinning as she watches your eyes roll back. "Sweet little slut’s finally ready to make things right."

And when you cum - again - it hits harder than it should. A scream caught in your throat, muscles clenching down on Utahime’s fingers like you’re trying to trap her inside. The world goes fuzzy around the edges.

But they don’t stop. Utahime pumps you through it, still pushing deep, still chasing the next orgasm like it’s her reward for keeping you.

Shoko leans close again, breath warm on your ear.

"That’s a start," she whispers. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to keep your job. Or your apartment. Or your sweet little life."

Your hips are shaking , maybe from exhaustion or even from the orgasm still echoing through your nerves. You barely register the shift until you feel it: Utahime’s third finger pushing in slow, knuckle by knuckle, joining the other two already buried deep inside your fluttering cunt.

You release a sharp gasp, a plea of sorts, and Shoko tightens her hold around you, arms banded over your chest, chin resting on your shoulder as she watches your soaked pussy stretch around Utahime’s fingers.

Utahime just grins. Not the soft smile you’re used to. Not the gentle, nurturing head-tilt of the Pediatrics department head.

No, this smile is hungry.

A little wild.

A little too pleased.

"Oh, look at you, baby," she coos, voice thick with delight. "Taking three fingers like such a good girl."

Her pace slows into a more gentle, not to give you mercy, but to make you feel every inch of her boney fingers. The slide. The stretch. The way her palm presses tight to your clit with each drag back, her wrist rolling just right.

"Didn’t think you could handle it. Thought you were sore, huh?"

You try to answer, but it’s impossible not when your mouth refuses to work work, your brain fizzed out somewhere between her second orgasm and this one.

Shoko clicks her tongue above you.

"If she passes out," she says casually, "that’s consent to take her home, right?"

You twitch, whimper, body arching between them, Utahime’s fingers pushing deeper, rubbing a spot that makes your eyes roll back.

"Mmm. Don’t worry," Shoko murmurs, brushing your hair back, "we’ve already got a room ready. Soft sheets. Bottles prepped."

Utahime doesn’t stop fucking you. Doesn’t even slow down. Her other hand rests possessively on your thigh, keeping you open, spread, obedient.

"We’ve been wanting kids for a while now, haven’t we?" she muses aloud, eyes fixed on where her wife's fingers disappear into you. "Neither of us really had the time… but maybe we just needed the right girl to stay home for us."

You shake your head weakly, but it’s useless when your cunt’s tightening, pulsing around her fingers, slick dripping to the floor with every sloppy thrust.

"Shh," Utahime whispers, listening to the way your cunt sings for her. "No need to think so hard, sweetheart. You’ll get all the rest you need when you're carrying."

All you can manage is a choked moan as you gush around her fingers, body trembling, vision blurring at the edges. You hear her giggle with excitement just before your eyes start to flutter shut.

"You're going to be such a good mommy for us"

[seospicybin]

BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Your ex, Chan, makes a return to his social media with a thirst trap. Horny and bored, you decide to see him for the sole reason of getting your physical needs fulfilled. However, as the night goes, you start to wonder if seeing him tonight is a bad idea. (14,4k words)

Author's note: Yes, it's inspired by that one Olivia Rodrigo song.

Talking to your ex is a bad idea, right?

You've been considering whether to slide into his DM or not, commenting on his Instastory which is a video of him exercising half naked, exposing his toned upper half body in all its glory.

It's been two years after the breakup and he didn't post anything on his social media until today, it's like he knows you're bored and horny.

It's unclear whether it's him or it's your uterus talking, but he looks hotter, sexier, and bigger than the last time you saw him. Although you must admit that he's always been attractive to you, except that his attractiveness is on a whole 'nother level now and it makes you wonder why you let this man go in the first place.

In your defense, Chan is not a terrible ex, he decided to break up with you because he was leaving to study abroad and thought the long-distance relationship would be hard and mentally draining for both of you.

You acted like it didn't hurt you but when you came home that night, you cried so hard that your pillow got drenched in tears. You didn't want to break up with him because he's a great guy who happens to be great in bed too, not only because he has the most delicious cock you've ever had but he also knows how to put it to a good use. Simply put, you were so devastated thinking that you'd never find a man like him again.

And you know what? You were right. You tried dating a few times but nothing comes close to what you had with Chan. Also, can't two people reconnect?

Before you get to change your mind again, you decide to hit the like button and send a short message in his DM.

Hey, there. You type into the message box, adding a smiling emoji at the end to make it sound casual but friendly at the same time.

There's no reply or a sign that he's read your message, you figure he must be busy on a Saturday morning, he could be having another session at the gym or having breakfast, or... yeah, it could be him ignoring your messages.

Slightly hangover from hanging out with your friends last night, you slump down your bed and close your eyes to get another few minutes of sleep.

You wake up an hour later with more than a dozen notifications on your phone, they're mostly your friends sending photos they took of you last night. You groan when you see a couple of work emails and do not think twice to skip them. There are some texts from friends and then, there it is, a reply from Chan.

Well, hello, there!

It's been ages.

How are you?

You check the time and his replies came about fifteen minutes ago, there's a possibility that he's still on his phone and he'll respond faster this time.

Never been better.

How about you?

Looking fine as ever, I see.

You add the eyes emoji before hitting the send button and drop your phone onto the bed, it's a bit risky but a compliment never hurt. Besides, who doesn't like getting a compliment?

The thought that Chan is probably waiting for your reply in those fifteen minutes amuses you but pfft... that's just your wishful thinking.

As you wait for his response, you're checking the photos your friends sent you. You check them one by one, deleting the ones that you don't like and saving the good ones where you look flattering.

An idea pops into your head as you go through your gallery: a plan. First, you choose a photo of you that shows your whole look last night, dressed in a blue mini dress and strappy heels with your hair up, tied in a messy bun, in other words, you looked hot and you felt like it when your friend took the picture.

You upload it as your Instagram story and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You're sure as hell he'll see your new post, then he'll get curious and open it, and Wowza!

Chan thinks he can be the only one posting a thirst trap on a Saturday morning, huh?

It only takes a minute for the thirst trap to do its job, you smirk at the notifications and see Chan's username on the top.

Me? He adds three flustered emojis to it.

Nah. I'm not.

But you...

You look beautiful as always.

Is it even allowed to look that beautiful?

A year of being single makes you weak at the slightest chance of romance, you catch yourself smiling to yourself in the mirror. You slap yourself to get ahold of yourself, reminding yourself that he could say that just to—

A notification pops up and it shows that Chan liked and reacted to your Instagram story with the hearts eyes emoji. Fuck! You just caught yourself smiling again. but what can you do? You're just a girl who is lonely and in need of some loving touch.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and think about what to reply to him.

And you...

Is it even allowed to have that much of muscles?

Someone, please close the gym!

You look good nonetheless, Chris.

But seriously, close the gym! You add a laughing emoji to keep it playful.

You patiently wait for his reply but your patience only lasts for twenty minutes until he makes you wait longer for his reply and you slump on the bed again.

It's time for plan number two!

The thirst trap worked to pique his interest and you have to come up with something that shows you're a hot commodity, you don't waste your time chasing boys, they chase you. That way, Chan will respond to your message faster.

So here comes plan number two, you take another trip to your gallery, scrolling through photos from last night, and find the perfect photo. It's a picture of you and one of your male friends, you're standing side by side, holding your drinks together and smiling to the camera. There's enough friendliness in there to show that you're close with this guy but also, not that close. You don't know how to explain it, but you know it'll work.

You wait a few more minutes to add it to your Instagram story, not forgetting to tag your friend which is the best part of it. If anyone checks his account, they'll see a model with blue eyes, just the perfect guy to make certain someone is jealous.

You're devilishly laughing as you hit the post button and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You check to see the final result and smile in satisfaction.

Okay, maybe you were too haste and didn't do your calculation right because morning has turned into afternoon and Chan hasn't replied to you. Not only did he make you wait, but you also wasted three hours of your day staring at the ceiling with the phone resting on your chest.

At this point, you should've given up and maybe it's true, he only replied just to be friendly, nothing more. You fling your phone across the bed out of spite and get up, planning to wash him away from your head with a hot shower.

Against the loud sound of the hairdryer, you hear your phone chimes and you turn it off to check whether you're imagining it chimes or not.

You hate how quickly you forget how upset you were a while ago after seeing your phone light up with new notifications.

I'm sorry for replying late.

I was busy moving some stuff.

Do you have time?

And you hate it more that he can easily get your hopes up again. You figure it's time he tastes his own medicine, you put your phone away and leave him on read. You'll reply later when you feel like it, or never. Who knows?

You continue drying your hair but the constant hum of the hairdryer makes you unable to hear your thoughts, especially one that stops you from going to your phone again as it chimes with a new notification. It only takes twenty minutes for you to cave into the temptation.

I don't know about you but all these chats, they're not enough.

Can we video call instead?

It takes you not even a minute to say yes to him. You make a run to your closet and change your clothes, picking up a white top with a low neckline, ditching the bra, and pairing it with denim shorts.

Chan doesn't give you a minute to choose the setting of the video call, your phone rings as you try to make the bed as best as you can and sit with your back against the headboard of the bed.

The phone keeps ringing but you need to check your hair in the mirror again to finally accept the video call. A second later, Chan's face appears on your phone screen, and from his damp hair, it seems like he's just taken a shower too.

"Hey," he greets you as he brushes his curls with his hand.

"You look a little wet, Chris," you tease with a sly smile.

Chan moves, changing his sitting position and revealing himself in a bathrobe with his chest all exposed. Intentional or not, you must admit that's quite a show!

"I was feeling hot so I took a quick shower," he answers with a grin.

"Feeling hot, huh?" You tease again.

"I am now," he playfully responds, flashing you a sly smile and lip bite.

The two of you just stare at each other through the screen and it's getting too much for you with how intense his eyes are.

"So, where are you now?"

"I'm actually in the city," he shortly replies.

"Oh? You're back!" You gasp but hold yourself back from continuing the sentence and ask if he's back for good. The most important thing is he's confirmed his location, all you need to find out next is if he's up to do no good with you.

"Kind of," he vaguely answers.

"Kind of..." you teasingly repeat his words and then giggle.

Chan grins and rests his back against a pillow, it's unclear if he's sitting on the bed or the sofa, "Oh, how I missed that," he says.

You take a pillow and put it on your lap as something to hold on to, "Missed what?"

"Your sweet smiles and cute giggles," he shortly answers like he's been waiting for you to ask him that.

"Oh, stop it, Chris!" You respond, getting a little flustered that you melt onto your pillow. You may as well lie down on your stomach and put the pillow under your chest, "You're getting good at lying, huh?"

"Yeah. Nah. Just a little bit," he jokingly says, then bursts into laughter that his dimples sunken deep into his cheeks.

And oh, you missed his dimpled smiles and his sonorous laughter too, but you're not going to tell him that, maybe not now, or ever.

To avoid it escalating really quickly, you shift the conversation elsewhere. You prop a hand under your chin and tilt your head to the side while the other hand steadily holds your phone far enough from your face.

"So, what are you doing now?"

"Staring at your face," he answers, a half smirk decorating his rectangular face.

"Just my face?" You jokingly ask with a flirty lip bite.

"Everything else too," he adds, catching his eyes flicking down for a second then smirks.

You act oblivious to the fact that with the way you lie on your stomach, you're offering him a view of your cleavage and he would be stupid if he missed the sign.

"What I meant is what are you doing in the city? Is it for work or...?"

"I need to sort a few things," he vaguely explains.

It's obvious that he's keeping the details from you and you have to respect that, he's not your boyfriend and even if he is, he's not obligated to tell you everything. Including the possibility that he came here to see his new girlfriend, perhaps?

"Oh? So, all business, no pleasure?" You joke with a light chuckle, hiding your true intention to know whether he's seeing anyone or not.

"I'm free tonight and I was hoping that we could meet," He says, shattering the negative thoughts that rush through your head.

Now, that gets you thinking if he's coming here to see you and you get that fluttering feeling in your stomach, or it could be your uterus ovulating as you speak, either way, you like it.

"Tonight?" You ask, acting like you already have a plan for tonight.

"Yes. Or do you already have plans for tonight?"

The act always works, gosh, you should consider to start a career as an actor, "Not really, but uh... where do you want us to meet?"

"There's a nice bar in the hotel I'm staying in. We can have a drink or two," he replies, then licks his lips and makes them appear wet and fuller, tantalizing you to kiss them.

Despite you feeling like screaming and jumping on the bed, you remain coy about it, reminding yourself to not sound eager but show enough enthusiasm.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, tilting your head to the other way and saying, "Hotel bar has better drinks so... yeah, I'd love a drink or two."

A triumphant smile rises on his face and it's cute that he lets it show, making you feel a lot of things in a few seconds.

"I'll see you there, I mean, here at 8?"

You tug your middle finger between your teeth and flash him a seductive smile, "Okay."

"I'll DM you the address."

"Okay," you mutter again while staring at him through the screen on your phone.

"See you tonight then," he says, touching his lips and rubbing the lower lip with his long, dainty finger.

"Can't wait to meet you," he adds.

Instead of answering him, you let out a giggle and sit up on the bed. You flip your hair to the back and just stare at him for a minute without saying anything.

"See you tonight, Chris," you finally reply, making sure to call his name with a low, sultry voice and a sly smile.

Without hesitation, you hang up first and let out a long sigh after. It's just a video call but Gosh! It feels like a foreplay already.

You give yourself a moment to compose yourself before execute plan number three: Dressed to fucking impress. To be honest, you don't even bother with the 'impress' part, you just want to fuck.

See? Talking to him is not a bad idea after all.

-

The sound of your high heels constantly tapping the marble floor as you walk echoes in the hotel lobby, you're unsure of how to inform him that you've arrived just a few minutes late from the appointed time.

You take your phone out of your purse and are about to compose a message when you catch him holding his hand up at you from the second floor.

You wave your hand back at him and make your way to the stairs, climbing each step with caution because it would embarrassing if you tripped. But looking at Chan waiting for you at the top of the stairs makes it feel like you're living a scene out of a movie.

Even with his signature all-black look, it doesn't make him less princely. He looks dreamy with crinkles in his eyes and a charming smile on his face.

He offers his hand when you're only a couple of steps away from him. You take it and let him guide you on the last steps of the stairs. His grip is firm as you remember and he still has his favorite chain bracelet around his wrist.

"You look gorgeous," he doesn't say it in a dramatic, hyperbolic way but he softly whispers it to you before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, so close to the corner of your mouth.

The night has just begun but he's already succeeded in making you quietly hold your breath. You put on a smile for him and coyly say, "You look stunning in black as... always."

He laughs and it feels like to see and hear it in person, like you can feel the warmth that his laughs emit.

"Want to have dinner first?" He asks.

"I've had dinner," you answer.

The truth is, you barely had dinner because you were too nervous to eat anything but you did eat a nutrition bar in the taxi.

"This way to the bar then?" He offers his arm at you like a true gentleman.

"Lead the way, sir!" You say as you link your arm around him.

It's only a short walk from the hotel lobby to the bar Chan mentioned, the interior is rather luxurious, leather seats with a live jazz performance. He mutters something to the hostess, probably where he prefers to sit and she nods in response.

"This way, please!" She says with a polite smile, walking like a feline creature in her tight skirt and silk blouse.

You glance to the side to see if Chan is looking at the pretty hostess in front of him, but you find him staring at you instead.

"Is there something on my face?" You ask in slight panic, afraid that you have something in your teeth but he feels bad to tell you.

"No," he simply answers.

"This way, sir, ma'am," the hostess says, gesturing to the booth she chooses for the two of you, a little hidden in the corner of the bar to provide some privacy.

Chan gently places his hand on the small of your back and lets you take a seat first. You have a seat in the middle of the curved sofa and he sits right next to you.

"Can we order drinks right away?" Chan asks as he puts his phone on the table.

"Sure," the hostess answers, slightly bending down to hear him talk clearly, "What would you like to have, sir?"

"I'll have the... Boulevardier," he eloquently says with a slight French accent.

"Excellent choice, sir!" She comments, she then turns her head at you to take your order, "How about you, ma'am?"

Things have been feeling a little surreal for these past few hours your brain is struggling to keep up, you want to be cool and confidently answer the fanciable hostess but it takes you a longer time to process a simple question like that.

"I'd love a daiquiri, please!" You answer, ignoring the fact that it takes you a minute to come up with it.

"Can I recommend you with the Hemingway special? It's a daiquiri with a splash of sweet grapefruit juice and Maraschino liqueur," she eloquently explains, proving that she's not only hired because of her look.

"That sounds amazing. I'd love that," you say with an impressed smile.

After confirming your orders, the hostess left the booth and it's just the two of you now in this nice yet slightly erotic setting of the bar.

"That's a nice dress," he suddenly compliments as he's looking at your face, not at your dress.

The dress goes to your midthigh, it's white and tight enough to showcase your curve. It's long-sleeved but the sweetheart neckline exposed just the right amount of skin. You've been saving it for a special occasion and considering that you haven't met him for two years, you reckon it's time to wear it.

"Just something I had, you know, lying around," you playfully answer.

The drinks come not long after and Chan waits until the server leaves to initiate a toast with you. Your drink is in a glass with a thin stem so you carefully lift it with your fingers.

"Cheers!" You mutter in unison and clink your glasses together.

The first round of drinks went with a conversation that consisted of basic questions. He asks you about work, family, life in general, and everything in between. You must admit that your life is kind of boring but it's nice to know that he wanted to catch up on your life updates.

It's a little disappointing though that he doesn't ask anything about your love life or whether you're seeing anyone or not.

When you deem that you're on the verge of oversharing, you stop talking and shift the focus to him.

"What about you? What are you working on at the moment?" You curiously ask, putting down your drink on the table and leaving one last sip on the fragile-looking glass.

"I'm working on a lot of things right now. From a lot of places too," he answers.

"So, you've been traveling a lot," you remark.

"Yes."

That says something about his relationship status and unless he has learned how to be in a long-distance relationship, then it means he's not seeing anyone right now. Even if he is, there's a big chance that it's noncommittal.

This calls for a celebration so you pick up your drink and drain every last drop of it, delightfully gasping once you swallow it.

"Round 2?" Chan offers.

"Yes."

Now that you've made up your mind about it and from the subtle signals he's sending you so far, it's safe to say that he's up to do no good with you. You smooth down the hem of your dress and flip your hair to the back, preparing yourself to execute plan number four: Make your intention known.

As much as you feel tempted to say 'Chris, let's fuck!' right to his face, you decide not to be haste and go with a more convenient, acceptable way. You plan to be forthright about your intention what you want and if he wanted the same too so the two of you can skip the formalities and go straight to the fucking.

"Chris, I have something to tell you," you say to him.

He positions his body slightly turns to the side to face you and softly smiles, "You can tell me."

You've mustered up the courage and have the words prepared in your head only for the moment to be ruined by your phone ringing in your purse.

"Fuck..." you quietly mutter to yourself, you could sense your courage shrinking inside you.

The phone has stopped ringing but you grab your purse on the space next to you and pull it out to check the caller. A new text message appears on your screen.

Call me. It's urgent. Your friend wrote in her text along with multiple red exclamation marks.

It seems rather urgent, you put on an apologetic smile at Chan and say, "I'm sorry but do you mind if I make a quick call?"

"Not at all," Chan says with an easy smile.

You take your phone with you as you get up from the sofa, leaving the booth at the same time the waiter comes with your second round of drinks.

Finding the way to the restroom, you hit the call button as you enter and stand in front of the sinks, waiting for your friend to pick up while checking for your hair and make-up in the mirror.

"What's the urgency?" You say the second you hear the call being picked up.

"I need to borrow your laptop. Mine is suddenly frozen and I can't reboot it," your friend answers in a rather distressed tone.

Knowing that it's not the kind of urgent you imagined in your head, you let out a sigh of relief and then say, "Yes, yes you can use my laptop."

"I'm already in the elevator to your floor."

"You have the code to my apartment and I'm sure you know where I put my laptop," you calmly tell her, putting the strands of hair to the side and carefully dabbing the skin under your eyes.

"Wait. You're not home?"

"I'm not and I'm not taking any more questions," you immediately stop her before she gets too nosy.

"Don't call me for the rest of the night. Bye!" You don't wait for a response and quickly hang up.

On the way back to your booth, you see Chan enjoying the jazz performance on the stage, tapping his foot against the floor. You didn't notice the way he sat until now, his legs spread open, he's slightly slumped and his long arm rests along the edge of the sofa, plus he left the top three buttons on his shirt open.

Chan looks so hot simply by sitting like that and you're sure you've seen much hotter men but you really can't remember when.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and slide into the booth again, then slowly sit on the sofa, leaving a gap between you and him.

"Here's your drink," he says, handing the glass to you with such caution.

"Thank you!" You mutter your gratitude.

You're glad that you're taking the recommendation because the Hemingway Daiquiri tastes so refreshing, it's sweet and sour, certainly an upscale from the classic daiquiri.

"I hope the call wasn't something bad," he says to you.

You lick your lips after taking a sip, "Oh, no. It was my friend. She needs to borrow something," you spare him from the details.

It takes a minute to remember where you left the conversation and when you finally recall, you need to take more time to prepare yourself again. You immediately take another sip to quicken the process of building up your courage.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He suddenly comes up with an unexpected request.

Your throat burns from accidentally swallowing your alcohol too fast and you can feel your eyes get teary as well.

"Sure," you manage to answer.

Somehow the gap you purposely put between you and him disappears, he sits so close to you that his knee bumps into yours.

"I've been stalking your Instagram page," he shares with a shy smile.

You snort because he makes it seem like it's an embarrassing thing to say, but you doubt if that's true, he could be saying that to make you feel flattered.

"As far as I can recall, you've been abandoning your account until today," you say, hardly believing his so-called secret.

"That's because I'm using a fake Instagram account," he simply answers.

You snort again and roll your eyes at him, "Yeah, sure."

Chan smirks and picks up his phone, he opens Instagram to show the fake Instagram account he made and it only has one following, you.

"Do you believe me now?"

It's hard to stay calm when you find out that the guy who broke your heart two years ago has secretly been keeping up with you through your social media. You're happy but a part of you is still in denial.

"I mean... why not use your own Instagram?" you ask out of pure curiosity because it's not like you'd mistake this as a sign that he wants to get back with you. You're not that naive nor delusional.

"Then you would know that I regret breaking up with you," he casually answers like he didn't just reveal something profound.

You look at him to check if he's just messing with you and you would know if he's lying cause he's bad at it, but nope, he's telling the truth.

"And you would know that I've been struggling to get over you," he continues with glints filling his doe eyes.

There's an alarm going off in your chest, it's coming from the heart and it's telling you to be cautious, potential heartbreak lies ahead. You get reminded that you came here not to confront your feelings, you came here to get fucked, hopefully hard.

"And I guess you posted your boxing video for a purpose?" You ask with your eyebrow raised at him.

"Well..." he shrugs and slyly grins, "it worked, didn't it?"

As expected, this man has so many tricks up his sleeves. Better be careful as he puts all of his attention on you, his arm slowly makes its way around your shoulder and his hand is playing with your hair.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No comment," You smirk and take a small sip of your drink.

Chan lets out a laugh, the sonorous one and the kind that makes his eyes form two crescents. He takes a sip of his Boulevardier which is an upscale version of negroni.

"I've been wondering why you stayed single for so long," he says with an underlying tone, implying that he's actually asking you the reason why. Also confirmed his secret stalking behavior.

"It's not that long," you reply, crossing your legs together as you flash him a sly smile.

"A year, isn't it?" He asks.

You groan and roll your eyes at him, "You really are a stalker."

"You can tell me," he playfully elbows your side.

"No. It's a secret," you refuse to share.

"I shared my secret with you and it's only fair if you share yours with me."

"First of all, I didn't ask for your secret," you defend yourself while holding your drink close to your mouth.

He leans to your side, offering his ear at you as he says, "You can whisper it to me."

He means to know the answer anyway so you lean into his ear and cover the side of your mouth, then whisper, "All the guys I've met, they don't have a big cock like yours."

That's a way to get his attention and escalate the tension between the two of you. You pull away with a devilish smirk dancing on your face.

You glance down at his crotch and ask, "Is it still as big as I remember?"

"If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," he plays coy about it and you find it extremely attractive.

Noticing that you've drained your drink, Chan waves his hand to get the two of you another round of drinks. Obviously, you don't want it to end when things have just started to warm up.

He looks at you and then glances down, showing his hand snaking its way to your thigh.

"Have I told you that it's a nice dress?"

"I don't mind hearing it one more time," you respond with a cheeky smile.

He shoots you a big grin while he's playing with the hem of your dress, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

"It's a nice dress," he compliments, then leans in close so that you can feel his warm breath brush your cheek as he adds, "And I want to take it off of you tonight."

You place your hand on his hand that rests on your thigh and play with his bracelet, "if you're lucky, you'll get to do it," you poke fun at him.

You can audibly hear his laugh in your ear as he leans in closer his nose pokes your cheek, "We're even now."

The third drinks bring the tension higher as the two of you relax from every sip and the gap between your bodies gradually disappears.

Chan has his eyes on you all the time, it's overwhelming at times but you like the way he looks at you like an animal who has his eyes on its prey and you like seeing the confliction in his eyes on whether he should eat you whole or play with his food first.

There's so much chemistry and tension here, plus the alcohol, you're only waiting for the light to turn bright green, really.

He gently brushes your hair to the side and keeps it there so he can plant a kiss on the skin behind your ear, knowing that it's your sensitive part of body.

"You change your perfume?"

"Yes," you manage to remain calm despite the proximity and the way he constantly rubs your thigh with his knuckle.

He drags his lips to your ear and asks, "What is it called?"

You lick your lips and make him wait for your answer, "I believe it's called Good Girl Gone Bad."

He tilts his head to the side and looks at you right in the eyes, wide and dark with lust, "How bad?"

You grab the collar of his shirt and tug at it, "If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," you get back at him again.

As he bursts out laughing with his eyes closed, you follow your intrusive thought to cup his jaw with your hand and laugh along.

"That's two to one," you remind him.

He stops laughing only to fondly smile at you, "Remind me how I broke up with you."

"For a start, you acted like an absolute jerk that day," you half-jokingly say.

The truth is it wasn't the breakup that hurt you the most, it's the post-break-up and his total absence from your life, he didn't call or text, or even send a pity email after that day. It felt as if he didn't want you in his life anymore.

Fuck. How did you get here again? Forced to face your feelings. Time to shift the talk.

"It's getting late, don't you think?"

Chan immediately reaches for his phone on the table to check the time, "It's 10.51."

"Oh," you plainly respond and finish you drink.

"Can I have your new numbers?" He suddenly asks.

You put down your glass on the table and answer, "I still have the same phone numbers."

"Yeah but I lost my phone at the airport and had to get a new one, lost all of my contacts," he explains like he knew you thought about how he didn't call you earlier.

Chan hands you his phone so you can enter your phone numbers and hand it back to him once you've finished. He hits the call button instead of saving it first and your phone rings a second later.

"Come on. Pick it up!" He tells you.

You obey him, accepting his phone call even though he's sitting next to you, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's future Chris calling," he says with a mix of foolish and sexy grin, you don't know how but he does it so well.

Curious to see where this talk is going, you decide to play along with him, "If you are really from the future, can you tell me the lottery numbers for this week?"

"I... can't tell you that."

"I'm hanging up," you joke.

"But I can tell you something else."

"Not interested," you put away your phone from your ear.

He glares at you, forcing you to continue playing along with him, "Hear me first!"

"Okay, I'm listening," you say with a dramatic eye roll.

"Future Chris says you need to go to hotel room number 103 tonight."

"Uhm... why?"

"You have to go there if you want to get lucky," he says with his tongue slightly poking out on one corner of his mouth.

"Still not interested," you poke fun, pretending to hang up the phone again.

"You'll regret it," he teases.

"I doubt that," you say with your nose scrunched at him.

Chan gets a little annoyed now, you can tell by the way he has his tongue poking his cheek and the fed-up grin on his face.

"Don't you want to get lucky tonight and find out about..." he pauses as he reaches for the pendant of your necklace and turns it over in his fingers, "the thing you're curious of."

This is it then, your intention matched his intention and the light has turned bright green. You take his hand and put it down onto your lap, then you slide your hand into his palm, "Okay."

"Okay," He says, holding your hand in his then brings it close to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

-

As you're waiting for the elevator to arrive, Chan steadily places his hand on the arch of your back and lingers there until the elevator chimes open.

He lets you get in first and you choose to stand on the side, close to the panel full of numbers of the hotel floors and he reaches for it to push the number to his floor.

Should you consider yourself lucky that the elevator is empty? Should you be nervous because you're starting to feel like a prey being locked with its predator inside a small, enclosed space?

No words are being exchanged as the two of you locked in a gaze, but he speaks so much through his eyes, they're fiery, filled with so much want, so much need, and ultimately, desire.

After that much teasing, flirting, alcohol, chemistry, and tension, you've been wondering how the two of you managed to not kiss each other already.

It seems like he's about to make it happen as he comes closer to you, putting his hands on the handlebar and caging you in between. Slowly, he brings his hand close to your face and carefully puts away the strands of hair covering your face to the side, then tucks it behind your ear.

In this proximity, you can see how plush his lips are, how soft and full they are, and it's getting too hard to try to ignore. You look at him, telling him how much you want to kiss him through your eyes and deliberately blink to give him the unspoken permission to kiss you.

The heating moment gets interrupted by the sound of the elevator chimes open and a group of people gets in from the fourth floor.

"Excuse me," a man says as he reaches for the panel to press the number to his floor.

With his hand on your back again, Chan protectively guides you to take a step forward and stands behind you, he puts his arm around your waist with his hand resting on your abdomen.

There's a low chatter going on from the other corner of the elevator but the absence of silence doesn't make it less tense as Chan buries his nose in your hair, you can feel every breath he inhales on the nape of your neck. It feels hot and cold at the same time, making you tingling inside.

He then presses his mouth to your ear and softly whispers, "You're still using the same shampoo, mmh?" His lips graze your ear as he speaks.

Chan puts his other arm on you and quietly, pulls you closer until your back meets his chest, that way you can feel him behind you and his body heat that slowly melts you from the inside.

Quietly, he slides his hand down to the curve of your ass cheek and then gently squeezes the flesh.

"My God, this body..." he whispers with his breath tickles your body, "Makes me want to ruin you so much."

Is it wrong that you don't even want to hide it anymore? You want everyone in the elevator to hear what he just said to you and for a split second, you want Chan to fuck you right there and let everyone watches.

However, Chan suddenly lets go of you and you pout at the sudden loss of contact. Then you notice that the little screen above the panel shows that the elevator is about to stop on the 10th floor.

When it chimes open, you make your way out with Chan trails behind you. None of you look back but keep walking ahead with his hand resting on the arch of your back again, leading you to where his room is. His hand goes lower and lower the further you walk through the hotel corridor.

"This way," he says, guiding your body to take the left corridor.

Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and roughly pulls you with him until he hits his back against the wall, then crashes his mouth on you.

This is not your shared first kiss but this is somehow better than that. The feeling of your lips finally reunited in a rapturous kiss especially when you've been craving it oh, there's nothing like it!

Chan kisses you so hard, so deep, so passionately that you have a hard time returning it to him and breathing becomes a second priority to you.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he mutters when he lets go of the kiss.

Still gasping for air, you nod and say, "Me too."

To your surprise, he turns you over and has you pinned against the wall this time, he pushes his body against yours as he seeks to be as close to you as possible until there's no inch of gap left between your bodies.

When he deems that you need to breathe, he lets go of your lips only to kiss you on your neck and you tip your head to the side to give him the free access. You let out a low moan as his teeth faintly scrape the skin.

His hands run amok, feeling you all over and touching you through your clothes, eventually his hand cups your breast in his. He kisses your lips again only to distract you from his hand trying to pull down the front of your dress and after a few tries, he manages to send your breast spilling which he wastes no time to take it in his mouth.

"Oh..." The moan just slipped out of your mouth and you hurriedly press your lips together to shut yourself up, aware that you're in a hotel corridor and the hotel guests might hear it, oh and also, someone may walk in on you making out in the hotel corridor.

He leaves your breast wet with his saliva when he lets go and goes straight to kiss you again, putting his weight against you and hoisting your leg around him.

It's getting hard to stay quiet as he starts to dry hump you, you can feel the friction of his clothed erection on you, big and bulging, highly arousing.

Hearing footsteps coming, he hurriedly fixes your dress and takes your hand, this time, leading you right to his hotel room. He swiftly unlocks the door with his keycard and pushes the door inward.

"Come in," he softly mutters, keeping the door open to let you in.

Once you're both inside, the obscenity continues. Nothing is stopping you from coming at each other and ripping each other's clothes. Your dress is the first to go then his shirts, they're lying on the carpeted floor now.

As you lips continuously latch with his, Chan swiftly unbuckles his belt and zips open his fly, he pulls his erection out of its confine.

Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hand and puts it around his hardening member. You gasp at how hot it feels in your hand, how hard it is that you can feel the veins coiling around his length.

He pulls away and looks down to see your hand holding his cock, "Is it as big as you remember?"

You suck air through your teeth and then say, "I'm not sure."

You start to slowly pump his length in your hand and look up at him, "but there's a way I can know for sure."

His eyebrow raised in question, "You do?"

"Uh-huh," you answer, leaning in to kiss him.

From his lips, you begin a trail of kisses to his neck and his chest next, then down to his sculpted abs until your knees hit the carpeted floor.

Something about kneeling in front of him and he's looking down on you with a mix of excitement and anticipation in his eyes arousing you in a whole new way.

In return, you look back at him, innocently blinking your eyes at him all the while your hand keeps stroking his cock in front of you.

"Can I?" You ask him with your thumb softly rubbing the tip of his cock.

He puts his hands in your hair, brushing your hair and gathering them in the back of your head, making a makeshift ponytail with his hand, "Yes."

Without looking away from him, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, then slowly, you take him in your mouth. You take him little by little and give yourself time to adjust yourself to his size which you think is somewhat bigger than you remember.

Wanting to impress him, you push yourself to take more of him but you're too haste and his cock hits the back of your throat so fast, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately pull away before you embarrass yourself more and look away as you let out a cough.

"Still too big for me," You say with a shy chuckle.

Chan places his hand on your cheek and tenderly caresses it, "Too big for you, mmh?"

You nod with your puppy eyes at him.

"But you're taking it so well," he coos, now wiping your chin with his thumb.

You wrap your hand around his cock again and slowly pump it, "Yeah?"

"Yes," he mutters with a soft smile.

The truth is you're not a big fan of giving blow jobs and you're not very confident in your skill, but he remains sweet and patient with you and you believe it's because he knows.

Chan makes you feel safe and comfortable enough to make you want to do it again.

"Let me just..." you don't finish your sentence but do it all over again.

You remind yourself to take it slow, regulate your breathing, and keep calm, it's even better if you can try to enjoy doing it.

To compensate for the rest that you can't take in your mouth, you use your hand and alternate between sucking and licking.

"See? You're taking me so well," he softly mutters, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear.

It doesn't take long for you to find your rhythm and slowly enjoying yourself giving him head, you're even humming in pleasure with your mouth full of him.

Seeing his reactions and hearing the lewd noises coming out of your mouth, encourages you to keep going despite your jaws getting tired and your knees are hurting from kneeling too long.

In between his low moans, he manages to mutter sweet nothings to you.

"Oh, that pretty mouth!"

"You're just too good."

"Oh... Too good at this!"

After a few minutes though, you sense that you needed a break so you slowly pull out and replace your mouth with your hand.

"You like that?"

"Very much," he answers without a beat.

He offers his hand to help you get up from the floor and pulls you close, hoisting your body against him knowing that you're probably tired from kneeling too long.

"You're getting too good, it's dangerous," he whispers to you with both hands cupping your ass cheeks.

You giggle and let him have your lips in him again, you're opening your mouth for him so he can kiss you deeper while he hoists you higher until your feet are lifted off the floor.

Chan carries you to the bed and gently lays you down on the bed, he removes his jeans first before joining you, lying next to you on the bed.

He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a kiss on your lips, "So, is it as big as you remember?"

You tangle your hand in his soft curls, "Jury's still out," you answer with a sly smile.

Chan glares at you as a grin slowly blossoms on his face, he offers his arm as your pillow and then pulls you closer to him, that way, he can comfortably plant his lips on yours again.

As he keeps you busy with his kisses, his hand is making its way down south and not stopping until it lands on your clothed cunt. He smirks against your lips the second he slips his fingers under, meeting your wetness.

"That wet for me, mmh?" He murmurs.

You coyly shrug and shoot him a smirk just to provoke him.

"Well, I'm honored," he says with his fingers tracing your folds and running it up and down your slit.

When he starts playing with your clit, you know you no long can keep your cool anymore. The cold that comes from the metal of his chain bracelet adds a different sensation to the hot and wetness of your cunt.

"Goodness..." you breathlessly gasp as he inserts his finger into you.

"I know you can take one more," he mutters with his mouth pressed to your ear, then proceeds to add another digit.

His two long fingers are inside you now, pumping them in and out of you, and curls them to find that spot that makes you—

"Chris! Oh, fuck!" You curse and grip his shoulder hard enough your nails dug into the skin.

He's enjoying it from the way his head hovers above you and peacefully observing your face, wanting to see all of your reactions to his delightful assault.

He has his mouth sucking on your breast now and the other is being fondled by his other hand, the other hand is busy making a mess out of you.

You're squirming on the bed with your waist upheld in the air and shamelessly arching your back at him, seeking more of him inside you.

Chan knows when to stop, he teases you enough to prepare you for what comes next. He slows down his hand motions and slowly pulls them out. He doesn't let go yet but keeps his hand inside your underwear, playing with your clit.

A moment later, he draws his hand out of your underwear and rubs his fingers coated with your arousal on his lips, "Taste yourself on me," he says.

Seeing his lips wet with your essence is rather arousing and you don't hesitate at all to kiss him, tasting yourself on him. The kiss feels exceptionally kinky and you thought you couldn't be more aroused than this.

Without letting go of the kiss, he hovers above you and props his elbows against the mattress, "Are you still on the pills?"

You swallow air before answering, "Yeah."

He places a sweet peck on your lips then looks at you, "Is it okay if we do it without protection?"

Maybe deep down you know you can trust him and it wouldn't be the first time you're doing it with him without a layer of protection so you find it easy to agree to it and nod.

"Okay," you say, also providing him a verbal consent.

He smiles at you and lowers his mouth on you again, he continues the kisses down your front. His hands tugging at the elastic band of your underwear and pulling it down as he continues the kisses down to your legs.

The bed quakes as Chan gets off the bed and he's just standing there, looking at you and your naked body for his eyes to lust on. You catch him inhaling and exhaling air like he's overwhelmed by what he's seeing.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters with a delightful sigh.

It would be the only normal response to get flustered under his lustful eyes, you look away from him and say, "Just get in here, Chris!"

He surprises you by jumping onto the bed, making the bed quakes once more and he immediately puts his lips on yours again.

"Turn over for me," he softly whispers to you ear.

Without saying a word, you obey him, turning over on the bed and getting on your fours, kneeling with your hands propped against the mattress in front of you.

Chan positions himself behind you and then with so much care, he puts all of your hair away onto one shoulder so he can place kisses on your back. His hands freely roam around your body.

In your opinion, Chan has the most attractive pair of hands, it's warm and firm with veins snaking on the back of his hand, and of course, long fingers that know how to find your most sensitive spot. Now, they're on you, going all over you and feeling you all over.

"I almost forgot how soft you are," he murmurs.

He then brings his hands to your chest to play with your mounds, he hums in pleasure as he sees your breasts mold perfectly in his hands.

"Like they were made just for me," he sighs.

It's like his attractiveness and his big cock aren't enough, Chan has to have a smart mouth too, a mouth that knows what to say and how to say it.

Then again, you're just a girl and you're prone to sugary sweet words like that. You look over your shoulder and smile at him, not expecting that he's going to capture your lips in a kiss.

He slides one hand down to your throbbing cunt again, making sure it's wet enough for him to penetrate. He gently pushes you to the front so he can aim his cock at your entrance and then slowly, he guides you to take him in.

"Oh... ah..." you moan, crumpling the sheet underneath you.

And you almost forget how big he is until he's inside you and you get so high that you blank out, you're there on all fours and merely just a vessel.

Not giving you another minute to adjust, Chan moves back and pulls his cock out only to push it deeper inside you. He then wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly while you're flailing against him like a rag doll.

"You feel so good," he whispers, his breath is hot and heavy in your ear, "So fucking tight around me."

He brings his hand down to rub your clit, adding gentle pressure as he's circling on it.

"I'm going to move, okay?" He says to you with a slobbering kiss on your shoulder.

Unable to form a coherent answer, you repeatedly nod in answer.

The sploshing sound of his fingers incessantly rubbing your clit intensify along with the pace of his thrusting. Chan either has his lips on your lips or plants them on your shoulder, either way, he does it to muffle his groans.

This is what happens when his hand and his cock joint forces, you find yourself on the brink of orgasm when all you've been doing is filling the room with your high-pitched moans.

"Oh, I'm cumming," you whine, holding onto the sheet as waves of pleasure surging all over you.

Chan slows down but does not stop thrusting into you, he kisses your neck and shoulder as you relish your orgasm. He keeps you close with his slung across your chest.

"Chris?" You breathlessly call his name.

"Yes, baby?" He answers your call and you guess the pet name unintentionally slipped out of his mouth.

Not going to lie, it gets you fluttering to hear him call you baby. You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close to kiss him.

After a while, you start to doubt that the fluttering feeling came from Chan calling you with a pet name. You think it's because you're getting your second orgasm.

"What should I do, Chris?" You whine against his mouth

He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a concerned look, "Huh?" Chan confusingly asks.

"I'm about to cum again," you shamelessly admit.

Chan lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss on your lips, "Then let's cum together, yeah?" he simply resolves.

He draws you close to him until your back hits his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you to hold you steady as he adds more speed to his thrust.

"Chris, oh..." you moan while holding onto his forearm.

His hands slithering around, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other wrapped around your neck. His mouth nests in the crook of your neck, grunting in pleasure and at times, sucking on your skin to muffle his noises.

"Oh, you keep clenching, baby," he mutters, followed by a broken moan.

That is probably because his cock is deep inside you, it's engorging and pulsating, filling you whole and continuously rubbing against your velvety walls, making the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.

Getting weak on the knees, you collapse onto the bed and Chan hurriedly holds you by the waist as he maintains the pace.

"I'm close, I'm close," you tell him repeatedly with one side of your face pressed against the bed.

Chan groans as he pushes his cock as shallowly as possible inside you, "Almost there," he says through his gritted teeth.

The previous orgasm makes you more sensitive than before and you can't hold yourself back anymore so you slowly let go and let the pleasure take over you once more.

Meanwhile, Chan hovers behind you and takes your hands, he holds them by the wrists then pin them against the bed as he restlessly thrusts into you to chase his high.

"Want me to cum inside you?" He asks, still thoughtful as you remember

"Uh-huh, yeah," you manage to answer even with your brain close to short-circuit.

Getting the permission is all he needed to get to his release. Then moment he finally come undone, he lets out a hoarse yet the most beautiful moan you ever heard, then lets himself lay on top of you.

A moment passes in contented silence and Chan presses a long kiss on the nape of your neck, then softly asks, "Are you okay?"

Not getting an answer, he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face to check it himself, "Did I go too rough on you?" He asks again with a slight concern.

You allow yourself to take a few more seconds to gain your composure and instead of answering, you foolishly grin at him and say, "That was so fucking good."

In response, Chan brightly smiles then pecks your lips, "No, but seriously, are you okay?"

You nod at him, "I'm okay."

After hearing your confirmation, he lets out a sigh of relief and then kisses you again, longer than the previous one.

"Sweet break?"

You don't expect him to say that after a long time, you smile and nod, "Sweet break."

-

Sweet break is something you used to say to each other when you need to take a break from something by eating something sweet. Like now, for instance, you and him taking a break from sex to order something sweet from the room service.

"Bad news is the kitchen is closed" Chan announces the second you come out of the bathroom.

It would be bothersome to put on your dress so you put on Chan's shirt instead, buttoning it as you join him on the sofa, "And the good news?"

He opens the food cover to show you what he got from the room service, "They're still serving desserts," he says with a grin.

The two of you huddle together around the plates of desserts and eating them on the sofa, filling the room with the sounds of your chewing and the dessert spoon scraping the plate.

It's fascinating to watch Chan casually eat his chocolate cake like he didn't just fuck the brains out of you a while ago. You let out a low chuckle and get back to your crepes.

"What's so funny?" He asks, catching you quietly chuckling to yourself.

"Nothing," you answer with a shrug.

He glares at you and decides to invade your plate with his fork, stabbing at the sliced banana and then shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey, eat your own dessert," you scold him but let him collect more bananas from your plate.

"But you don't like bananas," he says in between his chews.

"I don't like bananas but that doesn't mean I can't eat them," you say, but proceed to put the bananas to the side of the plate.

"I'm eating it for you so you only eat what you like," he says with a proud grin.

It's endearing that he still remembers little things like this. The sweet break, your dislike toward a certain and even how many of his fingers you like to have inside you. You can't help but wonder if he remembers other things too. His feelings for you, perhaps?

"Want to order another one?"

The two of you shared and finished the last plate together, even though you feel like you can have another plate, you refuse the offer.

He puts the plates away to the side of the room and returns to the sofa, lifting your legs before he sits next to you and then puts your legs on his lap.

"What's that café with the salted caramel cookies?" He suddenly asks.

"The one with butternut latte?" You ask back to check.

He gently puts his hand on your shoulder and plays with your hair, "Is it still open?"

Damn. He even still remembers that one café you regularly visited when the two of you were still dating.

"Yes," you answer with a smile.

"Man. Those are the best cookies!" he sighs with his fingertips lightly rubbing your thigh.

"I mean, we can go there tomorrow if you want," you casually say or you hope it sounds casual, it's a friendly offer.

He stops playing with your hand and cups your jaw, "I would love to," he says.

From the way his smile slowly dims, you sense a 'but' coming. Oh no, you sense a regret coming. You shouldn't have offered it in the first place.

"But I have to leave tomorrow," he says.

"Oh?" You try to remain unbothered and keep your facial expression in check, "Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah. I have to take care of a few things back home," he explains.

By back home, he means Australia and he'll fly out tomorrow, and probably for good. You hate that you get sad like it would be the first he's done it to you.

He holds you by the chin and slowly brings your head close to place a chaste kiss on your lips, it's so tender that you feel a tug at your chest.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he sincerely says with his eyes wide and shining for you.

This is where you start losing the objective of why you're here, you came here to solely get fucked, not expecting anything but his cock inside you.

Time to put some sense into your head and laugh it off, "Oh, my God, Chris!" You gasp out loud.

His forehead wrinkles in question, "What?"

"Yes, we can fuck again, no need to try so hard," you say with a sassy eye roll.

Learning that he's being pranked, he squints his eyes at you with his tongue pokes his cheek. While clutching his chest, he says, "Gosh, I thought—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you shut him up with a kiss because you don't want to keep talking about your feelings or get reminded of how things were when you were still together. You kiss him because you want to forget.

"You thought what?" You ask as you sit on his lap.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, "Nothing."

He's more than glad to have you sitting on his lap as it allows him to hold you close. His hands trail the sides of your body until they eventually land on your ass and then eagerly fondle them in his hands. Catching you off guard, he lands a slap on your ass cheek.

"Chris!" You shriek, abruptly stop kissing him, "That stings!"

"Can't help it," he innocently says while laughing and then pulls you close to kiss you again before you scold him more.

As a safety measure, you take his hands from your ass and fold them together on his chest but he takes it to his advantage, he finds another playground for his lewd hands.

Doesn't want to waste time unbuttoning it, he slips his hand under your shirt to fondle your breast, circling his fingers around your nipple before pinching at it.

He then lifts your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool night air, and wastes no time to bury his head in between your mounds. He then pulls the shirt down and hides himself in it, acting like a toddler by purposely placing ticklish kisses on you to make you laugh

"Stop playing," you scold him with your hand tangled in his curls, "Let's go to bed, mmh?"

Chan pops his head out through the opening of the shirt and looks at you, "Kiss me first," he demands.

How can you say no when he looks at you with fondness in his eyes and a smile on his face? You fulfill his wish and place a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

"Can we go now?" You say the second you pull away from the kiss.

"Okay," he obliges.

He gets out of your shirt first and you get off his lap next, then starts walking toward the bedroom when Chan suddenly comes from behind you and hoists you up, looking unbothered carrying you on his shoulder.

"To the bed!" He announces, then slaps the back of your thigh.

"Chris!" You scold again but you can't do anything about it as you hang upside-down on his back.

The bed is already a mess and it seems like it's going to get even messier with the way Chan constantly has you pinned under him. He kisses your lips, softly yet hungrily like devouring an ice cream.

Aware that he has taken his turn, Chan doesn't complain when you flip him over and take it over from him. You're straddling him, rubbing his cock between your slit while he's unbuttoning your shirt open.

You find yourself wet for him again in no time and his cock is as hard as you need it to be, maybe this is why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are always horny for each other.

You let out a low, long moan the whole time you lower yourself on him and a seductive chuckle slips out of your mouth the second he's fully buried inside you.

When you look down at him, you find him staring at you with his mouth agape. You slyly smile and place both of your hands on his glorious pecs, "Have you always been this big?"

Chan licks his lips and rests his hands on your thighs, "And have you always been this tight?" He asks back instead of answering.

Being on top gives you the freedom to set a pace you prefer and switch positions as you like, more importantly, you can fully enjoy every bit of it. But it's working because Chan is such a great partner, he lets you have full control and lets you take your time.

If not using his hands to touch you all over, he has his hands folded under his head and quietly enjoying watching you fucking him.

"If you keep clenching around me like that, I might cum too fast," he tells you.

"I'm okay with that," you calmly respond.

To tease him more, you purposely keep clenching around him and rolling your hips in circular motions. Somehow you stop focusing on getting your high and start thinking about how to please him more.

"Oh," he loudly groans and his hand grips at your waist, "You're bad!"

You giggle in response while continuing to roll your hips back and forth in painstakingly slow motion.

"Oh, you're really, really bad," he says with ragged breath.

The sex may not be as hard or as intense as the previous one but it's just as good, even better. Maybe it's the unwavering eye contact, maybe it's the way he hisses every time you tease him, or the way he trusts you to make him feel good.

Whatever it is, you feel like sharing an intimate moment with him and you can't lie, it feels special.

"Are you close?" You ask because you're very close to your climax.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me that," he hastily answers, still able to joke in a heating moment like this.

You take him along with you to the edge and not stopping until the two of you come to your release, you keep moving at a sloppy pace to ride out the high.

Chan pulls you close, forcing you to lower yourself onto his body and accidentally sending his cock to slip out. You don't mind it at first but you can feel his hot cum dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.

You break the kiss and mutter in panic, "It's dripping."

"I'll put it back in," he simply responds, reaching down for his cock and slowly pushes it back into you.

Now that it's resolved, he puts his arms around you again and pulls you even closer until your bodies mold into one another, then kisses you more.

Without looking and breaking the kiss, he pulls the duvet and covers both of your bodies with it, ready to end the night with your bodies still connected.

"Have I told you this?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

He looks at you with his brown eyes that looks like a nice cup of cocoa, comforting and warm.

"I miss you," he ever softly says.

There he goes again, making you debate whether you came here for the sex or to try to rekindle old sparks with him. But in all honesty, it feels good to know that the yearning goes both ways.

For once, you let your heart answer it for you.

"I miss you too, Chris," you mutter back with a smile.

And now you start debating if seeing him tonight is indeed a bad idea.

-

There's a wet, squelching sound when you first come to your senses the next morning, you feel like sleeping for another hour or two but you also feel the urge to check what that noise is all about.

You force open your eyes and find out right away the source of that wet, squelching sound, it's coming from Chan and he has his mouth latched to your breast.

"Morning, Chris," you croak as you brush your hair away from your face.

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop and looks at you, "Did I wake you?"

"Not really," you answer, putting your hand in his fluffy bedhead.

"I'm sorry," he says but not looking like it.

"Are you? Sorry?" You jokingly say and lay back on your pillow.

He slyly grins and shifts his focus back to playing with your mounds. He holds your breast up and uses his slick tongue to tease your nipple, alternating between licking and sucking.

It's normal to feel horny in the morning and, you find yourself already wet under there, you guess Chan has been helping himself while you were still sleeping.

Chan's head hangs above your chest and you can see how much he's enjoying your breasts, playing with them like a toddler, he even makes noises as he fills his mouth with your ample flesh.

"Aren't you leaving today? Shouldn't we get up and shower?" You mutter, softly scratching his scalp as you talk.

He sucks at your breast so hard and pulls it before letting it go, grinning as he is satisfied with what he just did.

"My flight is in the afternoon," he says.

"And I'd better go so you can pack—"

"But I already ordered breakfast," he whines like a fussy child.

"Well, we can shower first."

"They'll send breakfast at 8," he shares with a wild grin.

You turn your head to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall, "But it's hardly 7."

"Exactly!" He exclaims.

"Exactly what?" You ask in genuine confusion.

He buries his head in your neck and whispers, "We have an hour before breakfast."

Despite catching on to his intention, you decide to act dumb, "And?"

"And..." he inhales your scent before hovering above you, "I'll have my breakfast first."

He winks at you then goes under the duvet, and settles himself between your legs to have his so-called breakfast and it only makes sense that it progresses to intercourse.

Morning sex offers different things, it's the quiet, the peace, the slivers of morning sun shining through the cracks of the curtains, doing it with a refreshed mind and body, it's also the best way to start the day.

It's even better when you get to be a pillow princess, you just lay back and let Chan do all the handwork. He has your legs locked around his waist as he thrusts into you at a slow yet steady pace and in every thrust, he makes you feel every inch of his length rubbing against your walls.

"This is just great," he says with his face pressed to the side of your head.

"Mmh, what?" You respond as best as you can.

"I don't have to do cardio today," he says with a low chuckle.

This is your favorite kind of sex, do it by not taking it too seriously. Because in your opinion, other than it should be comfortable for the individuals involved, sex should be fun.

You kiss his open mouth and drag your lips down to his neck, then plant your mouth on his skin, sucking at it hard enough to form a hickey on it.

"What's that about?" He's rather dumbfounded instead of annoyed.

"Just trying to make it fair," you coyly say as you point to the blossoming mark he made on your breast.

"Yeah, okay," he says in defeat.

As much as you don't want the sex to end, it eventually ends but in a rather explosive, euphoric way. You feel like you've just been given another chance at life after that last orgasm.

"Who needs coffee, huh?" You sigh as you blankly stare at the ceiling.

It's a rhetorical question but Chan decides to respond to it anyway, "Not me, apparently."

Then you remember that he indeed doesn't drink nor need coffee to function, "Not you, apparently," you correct your earlier remark.

Chan carefully lowers himself on top of you and hastily kisses you, both of your teeth almost colliding.

"Thought I was still dreaming when I woke up next to you," he says, coming with another sentimental remark that evokes something deep within you.

You decide to push it further down and keep it there by saying, "Ugh. It's too early for that," you groan.

Chan weakly chuckles with his head nestled in your neck and just like the universe knows you need the distraction, the knocking comes on the door and it must be the breakfast.

You gently pat his head and say, "Now, go get my coffee!"

The morning continues with a quiet breakfast, it's obvious the reason why, the two of you burnt so many calories last night and need a reload.

Then there's the shower and you strongly refuse to share with him or else, it'll take much time. But Chan has an even stronger will and joins you anyway.

This is another reason why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are the same insatiable creatures.

The two of you dressed in silence and at times, catch him watching you, instead of feeling shy, you give him a proper show, bending down and wriggling your ass as you put your underwear on.

Chan enjoys every bit of it, he grins and bites his lips, tempted to come up at you, and goes at it again, but sadly, time is running out.

It's here, this is where it's going to end and you never know when you'll see him again, and that's even if you're still able to. You can only hope that he doesn't see how much you want him to stay.

"This is it then," you say, standing right in front of him in the foyer.

He takes your hand, loosely lacing his fingers with yours, "Can I still text you?"

"Sure," you answer.

"How about phone calls?"

"Booty calls only," you jokingly say.

He smiles and takes a step closer to you, you can almost see every moment the two of you shared last night flashes in his eyes, and it's achingly beautiful.

"Can I kiss you before you leave?"

You plan to make the goodbye as brief and as painless as possible but you don't want to risk losing the opportunity to make it a not-so-sad ending. But if you have to be honest, you simply want to kiss him.

"Okay," you agree with a nod.

You put your arms around his shoulders and let your body molds into him as he holds you close, you tilt your head up and close your eyes.

The moment your lips make contact, your heart bursts open and there's no way of stopping your feelings flow out of it so you let them be. You let him feel your pain, your yearning, and ultimately, your feelings for him that you try so hard to conceal, and then slowly, you pull away from the kiss before they fight their way out of your heart.

It's possible that Chan feels it too, that the kiss feels intimate, the kiss feels emotional, and a little close to the heart. He pulls you into a hug that lasts for a long time as if he tries to convey some unspoken messages too.

"No need to send me off," you tell him, not wanting to make it sadder than it already is.

Chan walks you to the door with his hand on the small of your back and then keeps it open for the final goodbye. You stand facing him and say, "Goodb—"

He puts his finger on your lips to stop you from finishing your sentence, "I'll see you when I see you."

That sounds like he indirectly promises you that one day, he'll come and see you again, and surprisingly, it only makes you uneasy.

You put on a smile and try another way to say goodbye, "Have a safe flight, Chris."

As you get into the back of the taxi, you get these familiar feelings and unfortunately, they're not the good kind. You feel like you went through the same thing before, you feel angry, you feel sad, and lost, and you feel this tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. Then it hits you that it feels exactly like that day he broke up with you, this is the feeling of heartbreak.

In the end, you got your physical needs at the price of having to face your feelings and it all comes down to one conclusion: seeing him was a bad idea.

-

ONE MONTH LATER

It's like you're trapped in an endless loop, it's the weekend and you're lying on your bed, horny and bored.

Your phone is blaring with notifications and messages, you check and skim through them, they're from your friends or some other miscellaneous, you couldn't care less.

In other words, they're not the notifications you've been anticipating.

Chan has been diligently contacting you, sometimes he texted and when he's not, he calls you late at night because apparently, he's always busy during the day. The point is he always contact you by any means of communication.

However, for these past few days, it's been total radio silence. He's not even looking at the pictures you specifically posted to thirst-trap him. If only he knows how much time and energy you've spent just to get a single flattering shot of yourself. Ugh!

As you're about to spiral down, your phone dings and you consider ignoring it to spare you from getting disappointed all over again.

After a moment though, you cave in. You unlock your phone and get greeted by the very notification you've been dying to get.

What you doin'?

Busy running around in my head? He wrote a corny message and added a crying laughing emoji.

A week of no contact and that's the first thing he said? You scoff in disbelief and just stare at the messages, you've learned to make him wait for your reply and use the time to think of witty, flirty answers to his messages.

Am I running with clothes on or naked? You playfully ask back, giggling as you type it.

I think you know the answer. He wrote back with a winking emoji.

Let's hope I don't catch a cold then. You jokingly write in response.

You should stop cause it does things to me.

One minute he's corny, one minute he's cute, and the rest of the time? Hot, confident, and flirty, and you eat those shit up.

Things like what? You reply.

Like this. He wrote along with a picture.

Intrigued, you hurriedly click open the attachment and it's a picture he took of him in the mirror, wearing nothing but his white underwear. Your eyes feast on his glorious Greek God body, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders, and eventually your eyes flick down to the bulge inside his underwear.

In all honestly, it's the first thing that catches your eye because it's so fucking big and the underwear does nothing but enhance the shape and the size.

All of a sudden, you feel thirsty, literally and figuratively, and Chan knows how to make you keep swallowing air by sending you another picture.

The picture is of the same setting but in a rather different position, he's sitting on a chair, slightly slumped with his legs spread wide open and his hand holding his bulge.

Wish it was your hand.

Did he take a class on how to take good thirst traps and nudes? Because damn! Two pictures are enough to make you feel like an animal in heat.

Can I have it in my mouth instead?

Want to have you in my mouth.

Being straightforward mixed with the drooling emoji always works but what really does it is the one magic word: Please?

A minute later, there's no reply from him but your phone rings, he's calling you and you scramble to sit on the bed. You take a deep breath first before hitting the accept call button.

"Hello?"

"Gosh, I want you so much," He suddenly says, no greetings or small talk first. He goes straight to what he wants and you kind of dig that.

You giggle into the phone and playfully ask, "How much?"

"So fucking much," he emphasizes every word and lets out a heavy sigh after.

"Come and maybe I'll give it to you," you seductively say while playing with the lint on your denim shorts, "Maybe."

He chuckles and then jokingly says, "I'm on my way."

"Don't make me wait long," you play along with him but secretly wish that it's true.

You hear rustles from his end of the phone call and think he's probably calling you while lying on his bed but then, you hear the sound of bustling streets and car horns and—

"You're not really on the way, right?" You nervously ask, twisting the loose thread around your index finger.

"I told you, I'm coming," he coyly says.

Your heart skips a beat but he could be anywhere, he could be driving to work or you know, in a taxi in... Australia. Right?

"Chris..." you meekly call him.

"Yes?"

"Are you in the city?" You ask to confirm his location.

"Suprise!" He exclaims followed by a series of giggles.

Yes, you secretly wish that he was coming, but not now but not now and maybe, not ever because the last time you saw each other, things didn't end well for you.

So seeing him tonight is a bad idea, right?

"Why didn't you—" You don't know how to word it without sounding like you're not grateful for his surprise.

"I want to see you," he says, cutting through your silence, "Do you want to see me too?"

What should you do? You don't want him to come but at the same time, you want him to come. Oh, God, this is so confusing!

You want to lie so badly but your heart won't let you, "I want to see you," you openly admit.

"I'm coming so wait for me, yeah?" He softly mutters.

"Okay," you weakly reply.

"I'll see you in a bit," he says with a smile that you can hear through the phone.

"See you."

The second you hang up the call, you start pacing back and forth in your room. He'll be here anytime soon and it'll be just like that night all over again.

You almost jump when the knock comes on the door and you slowly walk to the door, just standing there with your hand on the knob, debating if you should ignore him and pretend you're not home.

The knocks come again and reflexively, you turn the knob and pull the door open.

There he is in a white shirt and blue jeans, the simplest way of dressing yet somehow, it looks incredibly stunning on him.

"Hi," he says with a sweet grin on his face.

His hair is slightly tousled, he smells incredible and those dimples have the power to make you soften around him almost immediately, they're your kryptonite.

"Hi," you say back, lingering by the doorway.

"Brought you wine," he says, showing the bottle of red wine in his hand.

You tilt your head to the side and fight the urge to jump at him and climb him like a tree.

"That's so nice of you," you say with a smile.

"Can I come in?" He asks, gesturing his head toward the inside of your apartment.

But it's a bad idea, right?

However, you find yourself nodding and you step aside, "You may come in."

Chan steps inside and you close the door behind you after. The second you turn around, he pushes you to the wall and crashes his lips against yours.

And you know what? Fuck it! It's fine.

-

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[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive part 2 - congressman bucky barnes

thank you all so much for the love on part 1 of this. i love you all so much you are literally my motivation to keep writing. i hope part 2 does you all justice!

part 1

part 3

~~~

after the crash, Bucky was pissed off, to say the least. entirely at himself. 

Bucky should have sat on the passenger side, not you. he would have been completely unharmed. maybe if he’d reacted quicker, used his enhancements to pay more attention to his surroundings, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this position. 

he felt his heart drop to his stomach when he saw the blood dripping down your face after the crash. you were right next to him, within his reach all night, but he had to remind himself this wasn’t something he could have protected you from. it almost broke him. 

you were in an ambulance pretty soon after. your head hurt like a bitch; you were a little too focused on the searing pain to make out the words Bucky was saying to the first responders, telling them they had to let him ride with you in the ambulance. he was your husband, after all. 

wait, what? 

did you hear that correctly?

through the burning pain, you tried to keep a level head. it made sense that Bucky lied; it was the only way for him to come with you. but hell if it wasn’t embarrassing riding in this ambulance with him just staring at you the whole time. 

the paramedic was asking him a million questions that he didn't know the answers to. of course he didn't, he wasn't actually your husband.

you answer them.

yes, you had alcohol in your system. you’d just come from an event. how much? uncertain. 

yes, you were on medications. which ones? great, now Bucky gets to hear. 

no, no chance you’re pregnant. you’re sure. yes, you’re sure. 

“Bucky…” you mumble. 

“yes? what’s wrong?” 

“Bucky?” you repeat. okay, wow, suddenly you feel a lot worse.

the world goes dark.

~~~

to put it bluntly, this was insanely embarrassing.

the hospital staff think he's your husband, so he's allowed to stay. when you ask him to leave, he refuses to go anywhere.

hours later, after some stitches and a million scans of your head, you're left alone in the hospital bed. with Bucky still staring at you.

"you can go, you know," you tell him. "it's been a long fucking night. no reason to stay."

he grumbles under his breath, "not goin' anywhere."

you wish he would. watching him, sitting here with you in such a vulnerable state hurts your soul. he's here out of obligation. of course he cares. he would be heartless not to, and Bucky Barnes is anything but heartless.

but he doesn't care in the way you wish he would.

you wish he'd be the guy that looks for you, only you, all night at the gala. you wish he'd refuse to leave your side, never letting you out of his sight. you wish he would look at you all the time, not just when another man is taking you upstairs, not just when you've had your skull cracked.

you wish he'd be the one to whisk you away at the end of the night. you wish he had told you how pretty you looked tonight, because he's the only man you'd gotten all dolled up for.

tears spring to your eyes at the thought, so you turn back to face the ceiling and shut them before they can fall.

but he's still staring at you. he sees the change in your demeanor.

"what is it? what's wrong?" he asks, jumping to his feet to stand next to your bed.

you shake your head and lie through your teeth. "head hurts."

it's not a lie entirely, but. mostly.

you open your eyes to look at him, and he actually looks pained, as though he's the one in the hospital bed, not you. you backtrack, reassuring him that you're completely fine, it's fine, you're used to it. you're used to the pain.

suddenly, he looks confused. fuck, why are you the one complaining about your own issues? don't you remember the shit he's been through?

he's been through worse than you could ever imagine. stop fucking complaining.

"I'm fine, Mr. Barnes. go home."

he shakes his head in exasperation. you're so fucking stubborn, you know that? why won't you just let him do this for you?

he wonders a million different things. you got hurt while working for him, and he knows this isn't your ideal job, that it's only temporary. when he gets elected, he'll get a new assistant, and if he doesn't, then he won't need one anymore. he won’t need you anymore. 

of course he’ll always need you.

that was the deal that was agreed upon, but he can't fathom never seeing you again. especially not after he let you get hurt on his watch.

he wonders if you blame him for not doing enough, for not being enough to protect you from what happened. 

he knows you don't. doesn't help ease the feeling.

"stop calling me that," he says. he says it with a faint smile on his face, trying to maintain his composure. trying to bring a smile to your face.

he sees you roll your eyes at him, and how the action clearly disturbs the headache you have as you recoil from it.

he has to press. he has to do something, anything–

"I know you know my name. you said it in the ambulance," he begins to tease, smirking. 

it doesn't have the intended effect. he wanted to see you smile, see you laugh, but instead? instead, he's made you cry. 

you bring your hands to your face as you wipe the tears away. why can't he see how difficult this is for you? he has to know that you're stupidly in love with him, it's not that hard to recognize the longing in your eyes.

so no, you won't call him Bucky, because that makes it too real. it's way too close to home and you have to remind yourself that this is not and never will be anything more than a working relationship.

"please don't cry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he says, taking your hand in both of his. you look down to where he's touching you.

you're done for. your mind short circuits. you don't know if you should pull your hand away, or if you're going to cry, or what. your mouth speaks before you consciously make a decision.

"can you do me a favor?" you ask him, wiping your face with your free hand. "can you bring me my stuff?" you request, indicating to the large plastic bag in the corner of the room.

he releases your hand and steps away to grab it. you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. 

you pull your dress out of the bag and begin to inspect it.

a black, velvet, off-the-shoulder dress. sleek and classy for a professional event, but it still made you feel confident and desirable. you bought it specifically for tonight.

you bought it specifically with Bucky in mind.

god, you really are fucking pathetic, aren't you? you just wanted him to look at you and think you looked stunning. but that's stupid, and childish, and impossible.

you inspect the neckline of the dress where your blood spilled onto it. you try to rub out the spots covered in dust from the crash, and almost cry again at seeing all the snags in the fabric.

oh my god. somehow, the thought completely slipped your mind.

you look back up to Bucky and see your blood staining the crisp white fabric of his shirt. you recall now how he pulled you in after the initial crash that caused your injury. you ruined his shirt. 

"fuck, your suit, I'm so fucking sorry," you tell him, looking up to meet his gaze.

when you do, you see the same look in his eyes that you had seen before the crash. that look. why can't you place it?

you can't tear your eyes away from him. not now. no car crash can make you. because you feel like he can actually see you, like he doesn't see you as the mess of broken pieces that you are. like he genuinely sees you.

you're shocked when he looks away and sits on the side of the bed, facing you.

you're even more shocked when he reaches for the fabric of your dress and runs his fingers over it. you watch his lips part, as though to speak, before biting his tongue. it confuses you.

he tries again,

"I don't think I told you this, but you looked beautiful tonight."

no.

no, no, no. it's too much. what is he saying? is he trying to make you feel better after everything that's happened? or–

it's the elevator all over again, the limo all over again. is he seriously still on this? you'd completely forgotten about what that dipshit said about you, when suddenly he brings it up again, reigniting the pain and shame that came with Bucky having witnessed it.

"I don't care about what that man said in the elevator, okay? I thought I asked you to drop it," you bite. 

at first, he looks confused and almost hurt by your words, but pretty quickly he understands.

"no, that's not– I'm serious."

you shake your head at him, aggravating your headache all the same, but you don't care anymore. you can't deal with this anymore.

"stop-" you begin, but he cuts you off, standing from the bed and raising his voice.

"no! you stop. stop brushing me off. yes, I meant what I said, that you shouldn't listen to that asshole or any other idiot who can't see how perfect you are. but forget about that. right now, I'm trying to tell you something, and you're not listening."

that shuts you up for once.

with a much calmer tone and quieter voice, he continues, "I'm just trying to tell you that you looked beautiful tonight."

"yeah, and it doesn't fucking matter because–"

you pause, remembering you can't say it doesn't matter because he doesn't love you.

"–because I'm sitting in a hospital bed now, and I'm going to have a fucking scar on my forehead for the rest of my life, and no man in their right mind will think I'm beautiful then!"

"then maybe I'm not in my right mind," he says quietly. "because I will still think you're beautiful then."

the impact of his words are worse than the car crash. you're truly at a loss. he can't do this to you, he can't hurt you like this.

is it a game? is he messing with your emotions because he knows you're in love with him?

you want to believe it's not.

"even now, in this hospital bed, you're beautiful."

you can't help but let yourself believe him, because it's all you wanted to hear from him all night. so you do something rash. 

you reach for the collar of his shirt, pull him in close, and kiss him.

~~~

he was not expecting that. 

he wants to hold onto you with all his might, hold you to his chest for the rest of both of your lives. he wants to kiss you until you both forget where you're at, until you forget anyone else exists.

when he pulls back from you, you're prepared to get reprimanded and fired. you're ready for whatever it is that he's about to tell you. you force yourself to watch the look on his face, expecting the impending horror that's going to appear in his expression.

he looks between your eyes, scanning for any sense of pain or hesitation you may be feeling.

he kisses you again, and you let yourself melt into him. without breaking away, he moves onto the bed, laying next to you.

it's like a fever dream. you feel like you're on cloud nine, the happiest you've ever been in your entire life. this is all you've ever wanted.

you eventually have to pull back. this whole time, you've been letting your emotions run rampant, and you've conveniently forgotten about how shitty you feel, how tired you are.

you run your mouth before he can say anything.

"fuck, Bucky, I don't want to stop, but my head fucking hurts. I'm so tired," you say, shutting your eyes and letting your head relax into the pillow.

he runs his hand through your hair, careful not to disturb the bandaged cut on your hairline.

"want me to go?" he whispers.

you mutter out a 'no' and lean into his arm that wraps around you as your weariness takes over.

~~~

he holds you gently as you sleep. he may not be able to protect you from everything, but right here, right now? he can be here for you as you rest.

a nurse eventually comes in the room, and he begins to remove himself from your bed.

"don't worry about it, sir. just adding notes to her chart."

he sighs in relief.

"you're a good husband. a lot of the husbands I see around here... not so much."

husband. sure, it was a lie he told them so he could stay with you, to make sure he knew what was going on. that you were going to be okay. 

after everything, he never thought such a life would be in the cards for him. all those dreams and hopes were left in the century before. could he be a good husband? would you even have him, if he asked?

woah, okay, too early to be proposing, he reminds himself.

~~~

eventually, you come to, and the first thing you sense is the weight in the bed with you.

holy shit, you weren't dreaming? this wasn't just a concussion-induced hallucination?

you blink your eyes open, and there he is, staring at you like always.

"hi," you whisper.

"hi." he whispers back.

and then the searing pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in pain, clutching your face in your hands.

he almost freaks. seeing you in this kind of pain? you didn't deserve this. it should've been him, he's experienced it, dealt with it before. why couldn't it be him and not you?

he runs for a nurse.

thirty minutes later, the opioids kick in, and you feel light as a feather.

"Bucky?" you begin. he's seated in a chair immediately next to your bed.

"yes, sweetheart?"

your heart pounds in your chest. you're high on the drugs you've been given, and you can't help it when you smile and giggle at the pet name.

"call me that again," you whine, to which he chuckles.

"sweetheart? you like that?" he asks.

"like anything you do," you whisper. "so perfect."

the drugs put you back to sleep real quick.

~~~

it's been another day, and you're being discharged. Bucky still hasn't left your side once, and yet you haven't talked. you can’t let yourself talk about it, because you know that none of it was real. how could it be real? you were hurt, and he was trying to be there for you. 

you crossed the line by kissing him, and it was time for you to let go of your desperation. you had to let it go, and move on. move on from the job and him entirely. 

you anticipate his overbearingness in terms of ensuring you get in the door safely when you arrive home. you don't anticipate him telling you that he intends to stay.

"Mr. Barnes, it's okay, I can take care of myself," you assure him.

you see the annoyance on his face.

"aren't we past this by now?" he asks you.

he sits down on the couch next to you, very closely, right up against you. he brings a hand to your face to turn you to look at him.

you lick your lips. "Bucky."

you watch him for a second, and you wish the look in his eyes was real. 

“Bucky, I quit,” you whisper. he clearly was not expecting you to say that, because he pulls away from you. you mourn the loss of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body near yours. but you're doing what needs to be done. 

“you can’t quit. I’m not– it’s not–”

“I have to quit, Bucky,” you explain to him. “I can’t do this. not anymore, it’s too much.” 

he begins to plead with you, “what? what is too much?”

“you,” you admit to him.

he doesn't understand.

"fuck, I just can't do this. because I love you, and I just can't..."

"I love you."

you're stunned into silence. no, of course he doesn’t…

he moves closer to you. 

“don’t quit because you think this was a fluke, or because you think I was just trying to make you feel better while you were in the hospital. I meant all of it. you are perfect, and beautiful.”

he puts his hands back on your face, gently, rubbing a thumb over the carefully stitched cut near your hairline. 

“please,” he whispers, and you can’t believe that he’s sitting with you, in your apartment, telling you all the words you’ve ever wanted him to say. “I love you. please.”  

you nod, and all the pain goes away as he pulls you in close and kisses you. 

~~~

“didn’t like seeing that idiot putting his hands on you in the elevator,” he whispers into your ear later that night. 

you lean back into his arms wrapped around your waist as you lay in bed.

“oh, please. you had that woman all over you, just begging you to fuck her,” you retort. 

“jealous, sweetheart?” he teases. 

“oh, please, you started it,” you laugh. 

“don’t worry about her. could only ever want my girl.” 

~~~

i really want to write smut for them or like another part so lmk if i should

part 1

part 3

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[probablyn0thuman]

Your boys

Pairing | Jason Todd x Fem!Reader x Roy Harper

Warnings | NSFW, MDNI, smut, nipple play, Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Fingering (m!receiving) , Oral (f!receiving), threesome, anal (m!receiving), slight bondage (handcuffs), aftercare, fluff, no use of y/n

Words | 2.1k

Notes | This took me about a week to finish fully because uni is kicking my butt right now. Enjoy and of course, English isn't my first language.

Summary | The three of you tri-parenting Lian and what happens in your soundproof bedroom after she goes to sleep.

You and Lian were cuddled up on the roof of your apartment building, waiting for Jason and Roy to get back from patrol; you were reading a book to Lian, one of her favourites, Charlie and the Chocolate factory. She’d been obsessed with it lately. It was around 4am on a Saturday and Lian had begged to stay up so she can see her daddies when they got home. She’d even pulled the puppy eyes out, how could you say no?

The Sun was slowly starting to rise over the horizon, Gotham slowly coming to life, a sign that Jason and Roy would be home soon. Just as you finished chapter ten of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, you and Lian heard the familiar thuds of two people landing on the roof from behind you two. Lian quickly spins around to see her dads, jumping up from your lap and running over to them with a happy squeal. “Daddy!” She shouts jumping into Roy’s arms. “Hi Sugarplum,” Roy coos, ruffling her hair, messing up her already messed up black curls. “Hey Princess,” Jason says, a hint of a smile in his voice, though you couldn’t tell, he never took his helmet off before he was behind a locked door in the safety of your home. “Hi Daddy Jay,” Lian beamed. 

You smile and stand up from your place on the roof, the book and the blankets bundled under your arm, “Hi boys,” you say as you walk over to them and Lian. “Hey beautiful,” Roy hums in greeting, looking you up and down. “Hi sweetheart,” Jason says, taking a few steps forwards so he can wrap his arms around your waist, “Lets get inside, yeah? It’s cold out here.” You and Roy nod at his suggestion and start heading to the fire escape to get into the apartment. 

Once you’re all inside Lian starts to yawn, “Aww, is someone sleepy?” Roy asks her teasingly. “Nuh-uh, I’m not tired!” Lian protests through another yawn. “Really, princess? You look pretty damn tired to me,” Jason comments while taking off his helmet now that you’re inside, revealing a soft smile on his lips. Lian yawns again, cuddling into Roy’s chest, “Maybe a little…” She trails off with another yawn. You chuckle softly, “Come on, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

Roy carries her to her bedroom, flicking on her night light as he enters. He places her onto her soft bed with her unicorn bedding, tucking her in with a kiss to her forehead as you and Jason watch from the doorway. “Goodnight, Lian. Me, Daddy Jay and Mommy love you soooo much,” he whispers quietly as her little eyes droop closed and she drifts off to sleep.

He slowly tip-toes out of Lian’s bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. “Well done, Roy. You didn’t fuck it up,” Jason comments, a smirk on his stupidly handsome face. “Oh shut up, Jay. I can tuck Lian into bed without messing up, I’m not stupid-” Roy argues back before Jason interrupts him, “Really? Could’ve fooled me-” he grunts before you finally interrupt them, your voice stern. “Boys,” you warn, giving them a look. “Yeah, yeah, sorry sweetheart,” Jay responds to your stern look. “Sorry babygirl,” Roy says sheepishly. You roll your eyes at their constant banter and jokes and arguing before smiling again at the thought that your boys are home and that Lian is asleep. “Bedroom?” You ask, watching their faces light up. “Hell yes, beautiful.” Roy groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and slinging you over his shoulder, walking you over to your guys’ bedroom, Jason following close behind, chuckling quietly at Roy’s antics. 

Jason locks the door behind the three of you as Roy throws you onto the bed, your fall cushioned by the pillows and fluffy blankets you three keep on bed for comfort. Roy steps back and starts taking all of his gear off, Jason doing the same. You sit back and watch, this was your favourite part of the night; your favourite boys turning into your favourite show. Jason notices you looking and elbows Roy to get his attention, “Like the show, sweetheart?” He says teasingly a grin on his usually gruff face, making you smirk in response. “You know I am, handsome,” you hum back, taking your own pyjama top and shorts off, leaving you in your underwear as they join you on the bed in only their underwear too; Jason on your left, Roy on your right.

“Wow, this pretty set, all for us, baby?” Roy smirks, commenting on your red lingerie set that you’d specifically chosen for tonight. “Can’t I do something special for my boys?” You ask as you wrap your arms around Roy’s neck. Roy brings his hands up to rest on the sides of your ribs while Jason’s arms come around your back to wrap around your waist, leaving you trapped and sandwiched between the two. “I like it, sweetheart,” Jason says, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “You only like it because it’s in your colours,” Roy huffs before Jason speaks up again, “You wear red too, dumbass,” “Yeah, but my red’s lighter than yours,” Roy whines. “Roy, stop whining, I’ll get a set that matches your red next time, yeah?” You suggest, trying to stop them from arguing again. “Okay baby, sounds good,” Roy mumbles, ducking his head down to start pressing small kisses to your neck. “You spoil him,” Jason grumbles, making you smile.

“Come on, Jay. I spoil you too,” you hum, grinding your ass against Jason’s core. Jason groans, his hands tightening around your waist, Roy sees what’s happening and decides to join in, grinding his hips into yours as you grind on Jason. “Come on, babygirl, let’s show Grumpus a good time, eh?” Roy whispers. You slide your hands into Jason’s boxers, palming him before sliding his boxers down his thick thighs, Roy helping you with eagerness in his eyes. “Woah, one at a time, please,” Jason jokes, kicking his discarded boxers off the bed and rolling over to be on top of the two of you. His big arms, that are definitely bigger than your head, caging you and Roy in as he leans down to kiss Roy messily. Roy responds quickly, their kiss a mess of teeth, tongue and lips with no coordination to it at all. When they break apart, Roy turns to you with a grin before capturing your own lips in an equally messy kiss. His tongue sweeps through your mouth, the taste of Jason lingering from before. 

As you kiss Roy, Jason makes it his own mission to make sure the two of you are as unclothed as he is; he slides down your underwear and unclasps your bra at the back, taking your nice lingerie set off as Roy shimmies himself out of his boxers, his hard cock springing out. Roy eventually pulls back from the kiss, his hands immediately grabbing your boobs, playing with your nipples, teasing and twisting the sensitive buds before Jason smacks his hands away. “Go get the lube, you’re in the middle tonight,” Jason growls. “Why do I gotta be in the middle?” Roy complains. You answer his question for him, “Because I was in the middle last time and Jason was the time before that. Go.” “Ugh, fine,” Roy groans, getting out of bed and walking to the nightstand to get the lube. “And the handcuffs,” Jason adds, getting a shocked look from both of you. “For me or for both of us?” Roy asks sheepishly, trying to hide the fact that Jason being mean was making his cock leak prematurely with pre-cum. “Just you, I don’t want you touching tonight, got it?” Jason says sternly. “Y-yeah, sure,” Roy says quickly, grabbing the handcuffs and the lube and crawling back onto the bed.

Jason was now knelt at the end of the bed and you were resting up against the pillows, leaving enough space for Roy between you two. Roy crawls onto that space, facing you as Jason takes the handcuffs and does his hands behind his back. “Hi baby,” Roy grins. “Hey Roy~” you smirk, running a hand through his hair as Jason squirts the lube onto his fingers to prep Roy. “Ready?” Jason asks preemptively. “Yup. Give me everything you’ve got, big boy,” Roy says cockily, before immediately moaning and whining as Jason inserts a finger, his moans getting louder as Jason inserts another. “Aww, what happened to ‘Give me everything you’ve got’?” You question teasingly, holding Roy’s face in your hands. “N-nothing, sweetcheeks, I-I’m a grown ass man, I can h-handlle this,” Roy moans as Jason massages his G-spot. Jason’s smirk widens at the sounds Roy makes, “Sweetheart, give him a little something, yeah?”

You lean back against the pillows more, opening your thighs in front of Roy’s face. “Can I? Please, Jason, I need to taste her.” Roy begs. “Yeah. Dig in, Roy.” Jason grunts as Roy dives head first into your cunt. His tongue circles your clit, making you moan. You grip his hair pushing him further in.  His tongue delves into your entrance making obscene noises you’re glad no one else can hear because of the soundproof wall paneling Jason insisted you got. “I’m gonna go in now, relax, Roy,” Jason says, the tip of his, frankly gargantuan, cock pressing against Roy’s entrance. Roy moans into your cunt, the vibrations going straight through you.

He enters Roy in one quick thrust, forcing Roy deeper into your cunt. Roy whimpers, slurping up all of your juices, the familiar coil in your stomach tightening. “Oh- Oh, jay- I’m gonna, ugh-” you moan out, Roy working on your clit, taking it between his teeth sucking, tracing with his tongue all while Jason thrusts in and out of him. “Just let go, sweetheart, Roy’s a good boy, he’ll take care of you,” Jason groans, Roy whimpers at being called a good boy. 

After a few more minutes you finish, your orgasm falling over you like a truck, squirting all over Roy’s face, he laps it all up, every last drop like it’s his life’s purpose. “Gods, baby, you taste so good,” Roy moans against your cunt, his tongue running up your folds, making obscene slurping noises. Jason continues thrusting in and out of Roy, hitting his prostate over and over again.

“Oh- Oh, Jay-” Roy gasps, his pretty cock decorated with a red tip, pre-cum dripping onto the bed. “You’re such a good boy for us, baby,” you coo, leaning down to press sweet kisses all over his face. “Come on, Roy, let go for us, I’m so close,” Jason groans, slamming into Roy harder. Roy moans and groans louder. You shift bringing them both further up the bed a bit so Roy’s face rests on your chest, his face pressed into your boobs, his moans vibrating through you. “Ugh, Jay- Please, I’m gonna-” Roy whines before blowing his load all over the bed, Jason following close behind, filling Roy up to the brim.

Jason slowly pulls out, collapsing onto the bed next to you two. You three lay there panting, the air thick, the scent of sex lingering. “I love you, boys,” you whisper, pressing a small kiss to each of their foreheads and undoing Roy’s handcuffs, throwing them off to the side. “I love you too, sweetheart,” Jason mumbles. “I love you the most, babygirl,” Roy smiles up at you. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” you say, shifting on the bed. Jason and Roy follow you off the bed, moving to the bathroom attached onto the bedroom. You turn the bath on, climbing in as it starts to slowly fill up. Roy and Jason climb into the large bath as well. You lay your head on Jason’s chest, your leg hooking over his, Roy on his other side, doing the same movements. 

A while later you all climb out of the bath, drying yourselves off and getting into some fresh pyjamas. Roy changes the sheet on the bed, putting the one he came all over into the laundry hamper. Jason hides the lube and the handcuffs back into the drawer. You all climb back into bed, cuddling up to each other. Jason on your left and Roy on your right like always. “My boys,” you whisper with a smile. “Yep, yours,” Jason says. “Your boys,” Roy grunts, halfway into sleep. You and Jason chuckle softly at his sleepy expression. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Goodnight, Roy.” Jason hums as you all fall into sleep, relaxed in each other’s arms. Completely safe and in love.

Author's note | Should I do a part two to this? I kinda want to...

Edit | I am currently writing part two to this. I'm going to make it a series.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[martiansodas-blog]

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

standford!art who’s your best friend finds out no guy has ever hit your gspot before :(

“are you being serious?”

but it's so fuckin easy! he thinks

your cheeks get warm. you focus on the various hangnails you have instead of making eye contact.

“um...yeah.” you say quietly.

he immediately regrets having such a big reaction and scolds himself.

those rotten frat guys, they only care about one thing.

“hey, hey,” he touches your cheek and crouches a little so he's no longer towering over you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart. it’s not your fault. they’re just inattentive."

“thanks.” you mutter with no expression in your voice.

he was too curious not to ask,

“have you ever found it by yourself?”

a laugh involuntary escaped.

“i’ve never tried.”

art fake pouts.

“you poor girl,” he coos, putting it on thick.

you scoff, but the heat in your cheeks only gets worse and you cant help but smile. he’s way too good at breaking your walls down, and he knew it

“i can show you, if you like.”

your body becomes unmoving.

"what?"

the most logical explanation you can think of is that he spoke a different language and it was lost in translation. because surely he wasn't offering what you think he was offering.

“what kind of friend would i be if i didn’t?”

he had that stupid smirk on his face.

“wait, you’re serious?? wha-”

he steps closer to you, close enough you can feel his body heat.

“we’ve always been closer than most friends, no?”

you shake your head.

“i mean, yeah, but that’s-“

his body goes stiff, eyebrows furrowed like that's the worst news you could've given him.

now he's the one shaking his head. his mostly blue eyes become fixed on the ground. he looked like a kicked puppy.

“that was a stupid idea. you're right. m'sorry. i don’t know why i brought it up."

he begins to walk off.

are you actually going to reject this offer from your insanely handsome best friend? half the girls at stanford would kill for this opportunity. and here it is, falling into your lap.

“wait!”

he wipes the smile off his face before turning around.

“yeah, uh… i’d like that.”

he breaks into a smile.

"really? i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

there's still a frown gracing his features.

"you didn't! you didn't. i was just caught off guard. that's all."

"...okay" he smirks slightly.

"okay."

another awkward silence presents itself. what should you-

"come over to my dorm at 8 tonight. that is of course unless you want to do it at yours and risk your roommate catching a free peep show."

his sudden confidence caught you off guard. he's giving you whiplash at this point.

"uh, no. no. yours is great."

who the hell can afford a private dorm as a sophomore?

oh right. tennis champions...

before he goes, he kisses you on the cheek. the first of many that would occur that day. his lips are the perfect proportion for his face and they feel like being touched by a pink cloud.

3 hours later

''FUCK, art, please"

"aww, i know baby. no one can treat you like i can."

its relentless. the entire time. the top half of him babys you while the bottom half tries to leave an imprint.

you didn't know your back could arch this much.

"are you gonna cry from how good it is? poor girl."

and you do. saltwater flows down your cheek and he wipes it off and cradles your head, showing you some mercy.

"you can do it, babygirl. you can give me one more, cant you?"

you nod fervently. it wasn't even about orgasming (of which you've done twice) anymore it was about making him happy.

"yes," you pant "ill come for you, artie, shit hnnn."

once you started babbling you couldn't stop. he thought it was adorable, honestly. he's never made a girl dumb on his cock this quickly. you really needed it.

you're gonna be so fun to play with. he thought.

he pecked your cheek while coaxing you through it.

"atta girl, make my cock all creamy for me. you can do it."

you feel every muscle, no. every atom in your body relaxes. and where your bodies met was so warm and slick and art might slip if he's not careful.

"there you go" he whispered into your neck. "so beautiful. such a good girl, im so proud of you. knew you could do it."

you think he is peppering kisses across your face and chest but you cant will your eyes to open yet and every inch of your skin is tingling.

your semiconsciousness works to his advantage because he loves resting inside you. he could fall asleep just like this but you probably wouldn't like that.

he strokes your hair and stares at you while you recover. he wants to let you fall asleep right away but knows that's not wise.

"c'mon, angel," he says softly as he scoops you up. "lets get you cleaned up."

[ebodebo]

Bite to Break Skin

—hear me out: simon as your new boxing coach…

current warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, p in v, mentions of evil nasty men, bad interruptions of boxing lol, cliche as hell, but cutie, boob play, teasing, ghost being a bastard, some fingering, making you be still idk the term, multiple orgasms, & nasty kissing through his mask.

"Goes by Ghost," Mac, the older man who owned the gym you frequented, said, leading you to the back section, where the boxing room was. 

"He's one of the best God-damn soldiers I've ever met, I'll tell you what. Saw him take out some insurgent with just his bare hands," he gruffly laughs out before glancing at your doe-eyed state.

His eyes soften, putting his hand on your shoulder lightly.

"He's a secret softie. He'll take good care of you."

You tightly grip the bag over your other shoulder as he leads you to the room this Ghost guy was in, your nerves getting the better of you. 

Mac grips the handle, but before he pulls on it, he turns to look at you. "He's not so good at casual conversation. Might be a little blunt, but most vets are. Just try to have fun, okay?" 

You nod meekly as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, closing it behind you as you fully step inside.

The room is dimly lit, with the only source of light coming from a few small windows high up on the wall.

You are in a relatively small room with punching bags, speedballs, and jump ropes neatly hung on the wall.

"You the new girl?" A deep, English voice boomed around the room in an echo.

You turn around quickly to be met with just about the hottest guy you've ever seen. 

He was tall, with a muscular build.

He wore a plain white t-shirt, dark gray sweatpants, a simple black Manchester United football cap, and a simple black mask covering his face's lower half.

"I—yes. I am," you stutter out, feeling a sudden surge of nervousness.

"Got gloves?" He gruffly questions, grabbing some focus mitts for himself and slipping off his cap.

"Yeah," you sputter, moving to set your duffle bag down to fumble through it before pulling out a pair of bright pink boxing gloves.

"Cute," he hums lowly as he sees you slip the neon gloves on, nearing back towards him.

You feel your face warm at his, granted dry compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. "Thanks," you murmur, now standing in front of him.

"Let's work on your stance." He demonstrates a broad, balanced stance. "A good stance gives you more power and speed."

"What if my stance isn't wide enough?" You question, awkwardly mimicking him, feeling out of your element. 

"You get socked," he says casually. "Widen your legs."

Oh. Oh no.

There was no flirty undertone whatsoever, though you couldn't help how your stomach fluttered at the ask. 

How the hell were you going to be able to work with him? 

"If you were to break like that," his voice is low, distinctly gravelly.

"Out there," he raises his hand to point out the window. 

"You're gettin' your ass handed to you." 

You nod lightly, inhaling a deep breath, determined to clear your mind and focus on the task.

"Focus," he rasps as you adjust your stance to widen your legs.

"Good. Now throw a jab," he orders, his eyes narrowing.

You raise a brow in confusion. "At what?"

"The air," he monotonously says, raising one of his brows. 

You turn to look over your shoulder. "The bag is right there?"

He lets out an irritated sigh. "And if I wanted you to punch the bag, I would have said so," he mutters in a sharp, caustic tone. 

"Just throw a punch."

You tentatively throw a jab, feeling an odd sense of adrenaline. 

"Rotate your hips," he commands. "Generates power."

You nod, throwing yet another jab, this time with a confident hip rotation, making your punch faster and more powerful. 

"Good girl," he gruffs. "Let's get you to practice your cross."

You spent the next thirty minutes or so reviewing various punch and foot techniques and only slightly googling him, growing increasingly impatient.

Hell, you didn't think you would be doing hard combat at the first go around, but you thought you'd be doing something a helluva bit more interesting than just punching some guys' hands. 

"Is this all this session is going to be?" You grunt out, laying a punch to his mitt. "Punching your hand."

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes before he shakes his head from side to side. "You're not ready for more."

"Come on," you probe with a sly tone. "The whole point of this is so I learn self-protection. Some guy in an alley could try to rob me. I should learn something more practical."

He narrows his eyes at you before taking a breath. "Fine."

"Wait, really?" You ask with perplexity.

He shrugs. "You want practical? I'll give you practical."

You nod your head because hell yeah.

He's finally going to teach you something you can actually use.

"Block me," he mumbles, tossing his focus mitts to the side.

You let out a dry laugh. "I can't block you."

"Thought you wanted to learn more self-protection?" He clicks his tongue.

"Well, yeah...but I can't take you," you cross over your chest.

He lets out an arid chuckle.

"Sweetheart," he begins. "Most men that prey on women are built; they prey on women because they think they're weak. An easy target."

Your eyes shift to the ground, looking at the dark blue rubber flooring you stand on. 

"How bout' we show them you're not?" He tips his head towards you.

You bite your bottom lip in between your teeth until you taste a coppery liquid coat your tongue.

"Well?" He urges, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You glance up at him, inhaling a deep puff of air, before nodding your head and issuing a crisp, 'Fine.'

He gives you a curt nod, flexing his hands. "Gloves up."

"Don't take it easy on me," you say, raising your hands to assume a blocking position. 

He raises his hands. "Wasn't going to."

You puff out a breath, feeling confident despite your little training.

He threw a jab, precise and fast, to your left side.

You could feel the rush of air as his fist sliced through the space, the sound of his knuckles cutting the silence. 

You raised your arm to block it, but his punch was just a feint, and he quickly followed it up with a cross.

You tried blocking the cross, but his punch was too strong. 

His blow sent you stumbling backward, but you refused to give in, your arms flailing wildly to try and find balance, though to no avail.

As you fell, Ghost tried to grab you, but his own feet got tangled in ropes, and together, you both hit the mat, his hand extending out to rest beside you before his body weight fell on you. 

You both just lay there, panting and tangled.

Your nails dig into the flooring beneath you to suppress your nerves and the hoard of butterflies swarming in your stomach.

He has yet to look at you, his eyes wandering about the flooring as he catches his breath.

His eyes flick to yours already on him. 

"What?" He almost spits, the tension in his voice palpable.

"You—you have pretty eyes," you sputter out, your vulnerability laid bare.

There's a beat of silence.

With your eyes still locked on his, the air thickens, building an intense anticipation.

Until his masked lips, a tempting mystery, dip down and consume your lips in a passionate kiss.

You can feel the outline of his lips on yours, a tangible connection as you reciprocate the ferry kiss with equal fervor. 

Your skin is sizzling.

You're sure if someone took a match to your skin, you would be set ablaze. 

All you can hear is your own heartbeat as he pants through the mask, lips feverishly sucking on yours through the fabric. 

His fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head desperately as you throw your gloves off to the side.

"Christ," he mutters into your lips as he gropes your breast through your bra. 

You let out a whine at the contact, placing your hand over his, pawing at your breast, holding it tightly so he doesn't move it. 

His hand squeezes your covered breast before his fingers skim down to the band of your bra, slipping his pointer under to skim your sensitive nipple.

Your mouth hangs agape as his fingers prod the sensitive bud, flicking it and moving it against the rough pad of his finger. 

"Sensitive one," he tuts, taking his finger out and instead reaching to unclasp your bra, letting your breasts pour out freely. 

His coarse hand wastes no time fondling your bare breast, pointer, and thumb, going back to roll your nipple between the two fingers. 

You squirm under his touch, equal parts aroused and impatient. 

"You're impatient," he observes, his fingers still tweaking your nipple.

"I just—need you," your voice is already strained. "Can't wait."

The corners of his eyes crinkle, insinuating a smile—what a bastard.

"Oh," he hums in a condescending tone. "Thought you were going to be a patient girl," his finger skims down to the waistband of your pants before he pulls it away. "Was I mistaken?"

"No—no. I can be...patient," you force out, already mourning the contact.

"You sure?" He questions, his tone low and sultry. 

"Because only patient girls get to come."

You release an anguished moan at his words, issuing a hurried, breathless 'Yes.'

"You gonna be a good girl and let me play with you?" He brings his hand back to skim over your stomach.

Your eyes flick to his, full of irritation.

"I said yes," you say through gritted teeth.

He dips his head forward, eyes narrowing at your tone. 

"You're still impatient," his tone is low as he pulls his hand away again.

You shake your head from side to side, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I—no. I can be patient."

His eyes glaze over your face—sincerity apparent in your eyes. 

He hums in acknowledgment, bringing his hand back to skim the warmth of your body. 

"Fuckin' perfect," he mutters under his breath as he drops to his knees so one of your legs is in between them.

His fingers move to dip under the waistband of your pants before gripping either side and slipping them down over your thighs.

He eyes the fresh wet spot on your underwear, reaching out to touch it with a finger. 

You let out a whine as your body thrusts forward at his touch.

His eyes snap back to yours in warning.

As his fingers rub easily over the fabric, you sink back into the floor. You suck in a breath, fingers balling into a fist as you close your eyes.

"None of that," he gruffs, gripping the sides of your underwear and slipping them off smoothly. "Open."

Your eyes snapped open to meet his dark ones, peering at you.

"Good girl," he praises, his pointer rubbing over your slit that was already coated with your arousal. "You're soaked, Sweetheart."

You hold a whine in your throat as his finger moves to swirl inside you.

He begins pulsing his finger inside you, prodding against your sensitive clit. 

You remain still as his finger moves against you, only moving your mouth to let out an occasional whiney moan. 

"Look at you," he coos. "Bein' so good for me."

His finger picks up pace, moving against your clit with much pace.

"Can you take more?" He grunts out.

You hastily nod your head—aching with the need for relief. 

When he adds his middle finger into the mix, you swear you see heaven—or something very near.

He's panting as his fingers move inside you with urgency, as you let out breathless wails and feel your lower stomach start to tighten.

"I'm gonna—come," you whine, head throwing back as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Can tell. Squeezin' my fingers so tight," he groans.

It only takes a couple more pumps of his fingers for you to come undone.

Crying out in relief, chest heaving, legs shaking.

His name falls off your tongue as you come from his fingers.

Talk about a wet dream come to life.

You're still panting, coming down from your high, as Ghost reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, tugging them down to unveil his painfully erect cock, the tip already leaking some pre-come.

"I won't last too long," you sputter with equal parts anticipation and excitement as he gives his cock a nice tug, hissing a little at the contact.

"Oh, trust me," he wheezes. "Me neither."

"But I need to feel you."

You feel your face warm, your stomach tighten, and your throat dry.

All of a sudden, you're aroused despite having just came.

He positions himself to line up against your entrance, eyes locking on yours. "Ready?"

You nod, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Ready," you affirm.

He pushes his cock into your already-soaked entrance with ease, grousing as his teeth clench.

"Shit. You're tight, Baby," he mumbles, pushing himself into you deeper—still not moving the entirety of his cock in. 

"Sorry," you murmur breathlessly.

"Don't apologize," he says instantaneously, hand moving to rest on the nape of your neck. "Feels fuckin' good."

Your eyes glint at the compliment, though squeeze shut as he starts pumping in and out of—feeling so full, yet empty.

"Need—need more," your voice is coarse. "Put it all in."

His eyes widen slightly. "You sure you can handle it all?"

You hiss out a breath. "I can."

He nods, pushing the rest of his cock inside you.

Your head falls back, mouth opening to make noise before he bends down to capture all the wines he elicits that slip through your lips. 

His mask is soaked.

You can feel the wet fabric against your damp skin. 

It's hot. Really hot. 

You could probably get off to just making out with him. 

The outline of his tongue moves under the mask to trace the outline of your teeth, fabric lightly snagging on them.

You groan into his mouth as you're wildly sucking at the fabric, franticly seeking his tongue and lips. 

"Fuck, Baby," he curses, his pace picking up. 

"You're so good—so good."

You moan into his mouth, mouth hanging open over his masked one, as you feel yet another orgasm approaching.

"I know—I know," he murmurs before you say anything.

He can feel you.

You press your mouth back to his, your tongue coming out to push through the fabric before you tighten around him.

He lets out a gravelly moan as he feels you come, gripping you tighter as he comes himself. 

He lets his forehead fall against yours as both your chests rise and fall almost simultaneously.

A curse falls from his lips as he pulls out of you, easing his underwear and sweatpants back up.

His eyes lock to yours. "Need help?" He asks with sincerity.

Your lip quips, shaking your head. "I can manage."

You pull your pants up, only slightly hissing, before gripping your shirt and pulling over your head.

He helps you to your feet, reaching down to grab your bra.

You shoo his hand away. "Keep it."

His eyes narrow as he smiles under his mask.

Grabbing your duffle bag, you sling it over your shoulder, shoving your gloves in it. 

"That was great—really great, but what if someone does try something?" You ask, your concern evident in your tone.

"Don't need to worry about that," he simply says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"What? But what if—" You begin before he interrupts. 

"Just...listen to me. Yeah?" He murmurs. 

You narrow your eyes before your eyes soften up. "Yeah. Okay, okay."

"Come back tomorrow. Show you some new moves," he shrugs. 

"Similar to today, yes?" You cheekily ask. 

He lets out a dry laugh. "If you want."

"Can't wait," you chirp. "See you."

He gives a curt nod as you approach the door. You offer him a bright smile as you turn back, pushing the door open with purpose.

Stepping outside, you leave him to reflect on your interaction, giving him time to reminisce about the encounter for the next twenty-four hours until he feels you again.

You still wanted to learn how to protect yourself independently, but it didn't hurt that you had unexpectedly attained your very own guard dog, who wasn't scared to draw blood.

Just give him the command. 

a/n: i can’t believe i haven’t done this before...we also don't need to talk about the logistics of this, okay?

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