#i used to gigs all the fucking time i counted once and it was over 100 bands

[chloelouygo]

Hello! For the artist questions:

3. what song(s) do you listen to when you do art?

Your art is very pretty btw, always a day brightener when it comes up on my dash!

Ohhh thank you so much, I'm blushing! 💜 the same goes for yours, it's always such a treat to see when you've posted!

I've been listening to the same cycle of songs on repeat for the last few months and at this point I just let youtube autoplay the same selection of songs for me lmao, recently my most listened to artists/groups have been Maggie Lindemann, girl in red, blackbear, Avril Lavigne and Waterparks I think (I used to be such a metalcore and pop punk baby but my eclectic tastes steer me in any direction these days aaaaa), those are like my on-all-the-time-in-the-background type musics, if i need to get hyped up a bit and actually knuckle down on a drawing i find a nightcore 2010s nostalgia playlist and it works a treat to get me in the zone!

#sorry thats so long i love throwing my music at people #i used to gigs all the fucking time i counted once and it was over 100 bands #and since covid ive not been to any shows #so i really miss sharing my music with other people and i will latch onto my Tumblr buddies and throw music at you lmao #thank you so much for the ask #you really got my brain going trying to remember what music I like 😂😂 #asks #thank you again for your lovely words too! 💜💜💜

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

#mine #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo smut #doffy x reader #doflamingo #doffy #one piece x reader #one piece smut #my fics #donquixote doflamingo

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

Manner Matters - Irene Red Velvet × Male Reader

Rape/Non-con, Slight Violence, Blackmail, Pussy Fuck, Creampie

Red Velvet Irene

2,769 Words

The traffic jam devours almost an hour of your precious time because some dumbass had to go and have an accident right when you've got some important shit to do. As an independent plumber, you don't often get offers from big companies with the potential for the fattest paycheck you've seen in your five years of plumbing.

Today, you've already spat out more curses than you can count, and it's still morning. You don't even dare glance at the clock as you pull into the company compound. You know you're way beyond late, but you're still holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, the company will cut you some slack and be open to negotiation.

Your buddy who recommended you to this gig mentioned that you'd be working alongside other hired folks, and you're cool with that. You just need to get in. As you navigate the jam-packed parking lot, filled to the brim with vehicles, you catch sight of a lone empty spot.

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave. Just as you start easing your truck into the spot, a blue KIA Niro zooms past you and snatches the parking space right out from under your nose. Your blood boils as you stick your head out and let out a deafening honk at that little shitbox on wheels.

Nonchalantly stepping out of the car is a chick in a pink mini-dress. The blaring honks from your truck go completely unnoticed by her as she bends down inside her car, rummaging for God knows what.

She's practically flashing her panties in your face, but your anger drowns out any horny thoughts. This woman acts like she owns the whole world. She slams her car door shut and starts fussing with her hair, using the dark-tinted window as a mirror.

You leap out of your truck and march toward her, yelling, "Hey! Are you fucking deaf? Blind too? Didn't you see I was here first?"

Finally, she glances back, acknowledging your existence with a condescending stare. Her eyes sweep over your lumberjack shirt, snug jeans, and brown hiking boots, and she clicks her tongue in disgust.

"You do know you can find another parking spot, right? Don't waste my precious time," she says, well aware that she snatched someone else's spot but completely unapologetic about it. Fueled by rage, you grab her bare shoulder just as she tries to walk away. In an instant, she spins around and slaps you hard across the face. "Don't you fucking touch me, you filthy man!"

With her insult echoing in your head, the woman struts off, leaving you speechless. "What a fucking bitch," you mutter under your breath as you trudge back to your truck. Ain't got time for this bullshit.

You would've parked your truck right behind her car out of pure spite, but that would block two more innocent vehicles, so you reluctantly spend another ten minutes finding a random parking lot nearby. Then you have to trek your ass back to this damn company.

The hiring is going down on the last two top floors, and let's just say you're swiftly shown the door without any second chances. Instead of feeling disappointed, though, you're just straight-up pissed. You're furious that it's etched into your expression, and your teeth are grinding together so hard it's a wonder they don't crack.

You sit in the lobby for what feels like an eternity, spacing out and seething with rage. Finally, you rise from your seat and leave like some damn aimless robot. Your destination? That woman's fucking car.

If it's gone, so be it. But if it's still there... You don't even know what you'll do. By some twisted stroke of luck, that woman is once again checking herself out in the side mirror. Now, as you endure the crushing weight of losing everything, her provocative outfit starts whispering all sorts of evil and nasty shit in your ears.

"Yah, woman," you calmly call out to her.

She turns around, clearly annoyed, and when she recognizes your face, she rolls her eyes. "Really? I already told you not to waste my time."

"Apologize. Once you do that, I'll fucking disappear from your sight like a ghost," you demand, your voice dripping with restrained fury.

She scoffs, her arrogance still in full force. "You want me to apologize? To a filthy man like—"

Without another word, you grip her whole face with one hand, silencing her. You've had enough of her shitty attitude. Then, you slam her back against the side of her car. She pricks your hand, feeble and panicked, as if her weak-ass strength could make a difference.

"Hmph! Mm!" She struggles within your grasp, hitting your arms in a futile attempt to break free. During her feeble attack, her purse slips from her grip and falls to the ground.

However, your attention is diverted by the search for any potential witnesses. You scan the surroundings but find no one in sight. Glancing back down at the woman, you tighten your grip on her face, causing her complexion to grow redder with each passing moment.

A swell of anger transforms into lust as you admire the beauty of her face. "It's such a shame that you're nothing but a bitch," you chuckle, a twisted amusement in your voice. "But who gives a damn? A woman like you needs to be taught a fucking lesson." You can't help but laugh at the double meaning of your statement.

Fear takes hold of the woman, and she shakes her head in a desperate plea for mercy. Checking the area one final time to ensure there are no witnesses, you deliver a powerful punch directly to her gut. The impact is excruciating, causing her knees to buckle, but she can't muster a scream.

Straightening her up, you strike her stomach once more, this time aiming a little to the left. She coughs against your palm, her eyes widening as she blinks slowly. Releasing your grip on her face, you swiftly backhand her, sending her sprawling sideways to the ground.

Unsatisfied with the outcome, you use the roof of her car for balance as you unleash a relentless barrage of kicks to her abdomen and thighs, following it up with brutal stomps to her ribs.

Silenced by the pain, she is unable to call for help. Her chest tightens, making it difficult to draw in a proper breath as consciousness slips away. Your final blow lands squarely on her pelvis, rendering her unconscious in an instant.

"Know your damn place, you snobby whore." Right when you're about to stomp on her again, a ringing flares from her purse. Grabbing the purse on the ground, you dig out her phone. "Kim Taeyeon..." you mutter the caller's name, glancing at the woman on the ground before letting the call end. A message pops up on the screen.

- why aren't you answering?

- whatever irene-ssi…

- come to the office this evening

- or you'll get in trouble

You smash her phone on the ground and start rummaging through her purse. It's just a bunch of random crap until you stumble upon her ID. "Bae Joohyun... What the fuck is Irene then? Celebrity wannabe bitch and a goddamn hag at that," you snicker, mocking her for being in her thirties already, and pocket her car key.

Opening the driver's seat, you toss her stuff inside. After closing the door, you take a moment to look at Irene. Her mini-skirt has ridden up, revealing her smooth and curvy ass. Your teeth scrape across your lower lip as your gaze travels over her milky thighs and slender legs, making your cock throb.

You pop open the back door and squat down. You hoist Irene up from the ground, draping her body over your shoulder and giving her ass a grab. Lifting her legs, you shove her into the car. One leg ends up hanging off the seat while the other leans against the backrest, knees spreading wide.

Irene's dress does nothing to protect her down there anymore. It is a priceless sight, seeing her in such a helpless state. The perfect payback for what she had done to you. And now, you can finally unleash all your built-up frustration on her body as much as you want.

Unbuckling your belt is a piece of cake, even though your hungry eyes are glued on her cameltoe. Climbing onto the seat, you shut the door and kick off your jeans and boxers in one swift motion. Having a knee resting on the seat, you position yourself between her legs.

Giving her hand on her chest a slap to the side, you squeeze her tits through the thin fabric and mold them however you like. Your rock-hard cock presses against her dangling thigh, seeking temporary enjoyment.

You are eager to fuck her pussy as you tear her lace panties. Irene's snatch is fully exposed, a thin layer of pubic hair offering no protection. But merely dominating her body isn't enough. While rubbing her clit with one hand, you smack her face with the other, careful to avoid the bruised side from the backhand earlier. The sound of the impact reverberates in the car.

"Wake up, bitch! Don't think you're getting off easy," you declare, delivering another slap.

Irene begins to stir, hissing in pain as she grimaces. You gather her wrists in one hand and pin them above her head. As she regains full consciousness, the first thing she sees is your face, and then she feels the invading sensation between her legs, causing her eyes to widen.

"You feeling that, huh?" you taunt, pressing your thumb harder against her clit while two fingers graze her slit.

Irene glances down at her pussy. "Get the hell away from me, you creepy fuck!" she shouts, trying to push you away, only to realize that you already had her hands under control. Closing her legs is her next instinct, but you are placed between them.

She is trapped and helpless, her voice her only weapon to resist you, though it seems futile. "Let me go! You disgusting piece of shit! Fuck! Get off me! You filthy, crazy fucker!"

She glances upwards, scanning for any sign of someone outside the car, anywhere. You cease playing with her pussy and deliver a powerful punch to her cheekbone. Instantly, she sees stars, groaning in agony. Cupping her face, you force her to meet your glare.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch! One more word from that foul mouth of yours, and I'll ruin your pretty face," you warn, ensuring she understands the seriousness of your threat.

"Fuck you! You think I'm scared!?" Irene yells defiantly, spitting in your eyes. That's it. She won't understand until she experiences it firsthand.

You release her hands and proceed to choke her. She struggles to pry your hand away, unaware of your true intentions. Fueled by anger, you unleash a torrent of punches upon Irene's face, repeatedly striking her cheeks, chin, and nose.

Her desperate hands gradually move to shield her face, but it's too late. You deliver one final, forceful blow directly under her eyes. Blood streams from her nose, her lips are split on both sides, and bruises emerge on her cheeks, with one eye swelling shut.

When you finally cease, Irene's trembling hands, raised in front of her face, betray her fear, and her breathing becomes rapid and shallow. The sight of her tears brings an absurd sense of satisfaction. Once again, you pin her hands above her head and spit on her wounded face.

You wipe your bloodied knuckles on her dress, marking the end of your assault. Before leaving her, you strike her ribs with a single punch. Irene groans in pain, attempting to recoil, but you firmly grasp her hip and straighten her body.

"No need for your pathetic face anyway. I'll rape your nasty cunt until you learn the meaning of respect," you declare, thrusting two fingers into her pussy, causing her to jerk in shock as you scratch her insides.

Both of you tremble as you vigorously finger-fuck her, causing her legs to tense up. Despite the pain and discomfort, Irene manages to whimper weakly. Her eyes slightly roll up, blinking with feebleness. Her face becomes numb while her pussy continues to be manipulated, causing her body to squirm from side to side. It doesn't take long for Irene to naturally become wet.

As you withdraw your hand, soaked with her urine, you forcefully shove it into her already-opened mouth. "You're nothing but a filthy whore," you insult her, delivering a smack to her breasts.

"N-No... Stop! Don't hurt— Ugh!"

You choke her and guide your cock along her slit before forcefully thrusting it deep inside her pussy in one powerful motion. She's incredibly tight for a bitch, her inner walls gripping your girth. Fully burying your cock inside her, you firmly grasp her toned thigh and gaze down, relishing the sight of her stretched pussy.

"Take it, slut. I'm going to fill you up until you can't spout shit ever again."

You commence rocking your hips back and forth, and your cock penetrates her as deeply as possible, exerting all your strength with each rough jab. As you choke Irene, gripping her windpipe, she can only emit groans while your anger finds release, your balls loudly slapping against her asshole.

Her pussy tightens around your cock as her breathing becomes increasingly difficult. Her toes curl inside her heels, and her hands weakly tap your arm, begging for release from your grip on her neck. But all you do is chuckle at her pitiful state while continuing to fuck her reddened cunt.

Her disheveled face still annoys you, especially as you recall her shitty behavior, but you can't deny the incredible sensation of her pussy. Sensing the impending orgasm, you release your grip on her neck and sit up straight, firmly grasping her waist.

Irene coughs painfully and gasps for air. Her pussy is being stretched even further than before, and she pleads, "S-stop... Pull out—Shit, just fucking stop!"

"Fuck you, bitch. I'm gonna make sure you never forget this day," you declare, hooking an arm under her knee and pushing it towards her chest.

Leaning forward, you exert all your weight onto her as you continue thrusting your cock into her tight pussy. The sound of skin slapping against skin resonates through the car, even causing the vehicle to shake, accompanied by your loud grunt as your climax reaches its peak.

"Ahh... Don't you dare! N-No... please—Ohh!"

With one final powerful thrust, you slam into her and release your fresh load deep inside her womb. Moaning in pure ecstasy, your entire body trembles as you impregnate the arrogant woman who has shattered your golden opportunity.

Irene's head slumps to the side as she takes in your load. The pain on her body and face fades into the background as thoughts of what comes next start creeping in. Meanwhile, you come down from your high and let out a laugh before pulling your dick out with a satisfying 'plop'. Her pussy oozes out an excess of cum.

You ain't dumb enough to just leave her like that. You reach down to grab your phone from your jeans on the floor and snap a few quick shots in succession. You capture her used and swollen pussy, dripping with cum, and finish it off with a picture of her messed-up face.

Irene tries to reach out to you, her weak and sore body struggling. "What the fuck are you doing...? Ain't you had enough, you bastard!?"

You jump to her side and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her up. "Listen up, bitch. If you try any shit, these nasty pictures are gonna spread like wildfire in this whole district." You show her the explicit shots of her pussy.

"I got plenty of friends who'd pay a fortune for this kind of shit." Tapping your phone against her head, you continue, "So you better show me some goddamn respect next time we cross paths, got it? I'll see you around then, Ma'am Joohyun."

Can't make out Irene's expression under all the beat-up bruises. Not that you care. You got her right where you want her. You shove her back onto the seat and give her a solid knee to the gut, a final warning. She doubles over in pain.

Pulling up your jeans, you spit on her and bounce out of the car. Nobody is around as you fix yourself up, sporting a wicked grin as you walk away.

#kpop smut #irene smut #non con smut #male reader #kpop gg #red velvet smut #hardcore smut #irene #irene red velvet #kpop girls

[fuckmymunson]

eddie munson loves when his girl rides his face i will stand by that forever!!!

HE ABSOLUTELY DOES, HE IS THE BEST PUSSY EATER AND YOU CAN'T TELL ME OTHERWISE! It's canon I already sat on his face 🙄👍🏻.

18+ as usual! So minors stay away or ill bite your knees... This is longer than intended but… idgaf imma eat my crepes rn bye lol I'm a whore.

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ʚ♡ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

This man was made to eat pussy, like it's that one secret talent everyone apparently has; cooking? Not his gig, writing? If designing campaigns counts sure, but probably it doesn't, fishing? He can't catch shit, dude… but professional pussy eating? That's right under his belt.

Had a rough day at work/school? Don't worry, just hop on and take a ride.

Feel stressed after a long week? Hold on, boyfriend Eddie it's on his way!

But, he will always prioritize your feelings before going straight to business. Eddie will hold your hand as he listens to you, he will nod every now and then to let you know you still have his complete attention, and even will rub your back soothingly if your ranting becomes too heated.

He will run a shower for you, wait for you patiently reading a comic or boiling some water for your tea, or coffee if that's what you prefer.

He will even dress you if you allow him. This man is on his entirety devoted to you.

Once he sees you are all relaxed, smiling and giggling, he will without any questions drag you to his room (or yours, or even his van, or an empty classroom, anywhere!), he will kiss you as if his life depends on it and shower you with affection.

Eddie's kisses are loving and passionate. Yes, he will kiss you with his soul every time but when he's a man with a mission (and that mission it's you using his face as a chair), he is a true gentleman. He kisses your lips, your nose, your cheeks, your neck, down to your shoulders as he undresses you.

He will settle between your legs, his thumbs tracing your thighs and pulling down your bottoms along with your underwear. Eddie kisses your neck and bites it softly, rubbing your clit in circles with his thumb and using his other hand to pinch your nipple lightly. He's been hard since he met you but this isn't about him at the moment, he wants to make you feel good.

"I know just the thing to cheer you up" He whispers against your neck, tracing his tongue over a purplish hickey.

"Yeah?" You ask breathlessly and his cock twitches at the sound of your sweet, worked up voice. He nods and slides a finger inside you, biting his lip to prevent a moan at the wonderful sensation of your pussy engulfing his digit.

"Sit on my face, gorgeous. Ride me" He practically begs, whiny and needy. His requests makes you moan and clench around him.

Eddie sometimes (always) thinks he definitely won the lottery with you.

"Let me treat you, my lady" He teases as you straddle his face, he squeezes your ass and basically roams anywhere his rough hands can reach.

"Shut up" You laugh and do your best to find a proper leverage.

"Make me" Eddie bites back, making you quirk an eyebrow at his challenge.

"Okay"

And with that, you lower under him, successfully shutting him up by rubbing your wet pussy against his face.

Eddie dives in, eating you like a starved bastard. He moans at the very first taste, holding on your thighs for dear life as he flicks your clit with his tongue. He will pant and whine when your hand comes down to yank and pull his curls, promptly riding his face.

His half-lidded, chocolates brown, pretty doe eyes will look you from underneath as if you were a goddess, and honestly? To him you are. And he is a blessed man for eating this heavenly pussy.

Eddie will fuck you with his tongue as his nose touches your clit. His eyes will roll to the back of his head every time you moan his name and ask him for more— To which, come on; Eddie is a pleaser, that boy is a real pussy pleaser. He will lap you and he will make the most obscene and sinful sounds when he eats you out. His favorite head? Sloppy, with long tongue slides and when his face ends up all drenched and slippery with your slick and his saliva.

So by the time you cum all over his face, he will be pussydrunk, he will be a whining mess, his pijama shorts have a wet stain and he is so hard it literally hurts.

He will nods eagerly when you cum, basically sobbing your name back as he presses you even closer to his face, because he will be damned if he misses a single drop of you.

Eddie could die between your thighs <3.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson scenarios #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson is the best pussy eater and i will not allow otherwise! #eddie by omel! #omel answers! #omel is writing!

[neopuppy]

Saturday Drip (M)

Preview: “Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.

“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”

Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”

“To film content.”

Pairing: alpha NCT Dream 00line x female omega reader

Word Count: 15k+

Genre: a/b/o AU, broke college boys, pure and utter filth, cnc(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.), pwp, dom alphas, one shot(do not ask for a pt2😾)

Smut Warning: rough sex, breeding, knotting, rough oral(m/f), double penetration(both), choking, spit, squirting, praise/degradation, big mean alphas, camera use, manhandling, mind break, wet & messy etc

Playlist: Saturday Drip/NCT Dream, Big Ole Freak/Megan The Stallion, Super Freaky Girl/Nicki Minaj, Hi, I’m A Slut/Lil Mariko, Cyber Sex/Doja Cat, Sexxx Dreams/Lady Gaga

It’s hot, it’s way too hot. Sweats already begun to pool under Jeno’s back, limbs gone heavy stuck to his bed. It’s useless trying to get off when all he can focus on is the lack of cool air blowing out of the vent. Everything feels dry and musty around him making it impossible to even breathe peacefully.

The AC unit just had to break last night, again. Only an hour after he’d just rushed home from his shift at the gym. Opting to skip showering in the locker rooms after clocking out when his phone pinged with a new notification.

‘Riding an inflatable sybian, how long can I last?’

“Fuck.” Jeno mumbles to himself, quickly grabbing his belongings. He’d just rinse off real fast once he gets home. It’s gonna be a long night anyway. Not in the way he’d imagined with his palm wrapped around his cock, edging himself for hours on end in front of a computer screen.

It’s not as if he has a paper due on Monday, prioritizing his favorite Omega fucking a sex machine over his grades without question or worry. He paid for a monthly subscription for good reason. It’s not like it’s his goal in life was to be a nutritionist anyway. Most of his time in class was spent on daydreaming of how he could just fuck his way to success and fortune instead.

Not that this had anything to do with the amount of porn acquiring his desktop, or the hours he wasted away watching obscene videos. If only his essay was about how to properly eat ass.

“Hey.” Jaemin greets him upon entering. Standing in front of the open freezer door with sweat trickling down his bobbing throat.

“Dude what the fuck? It’s disgusting in here.” Jeno can’t stand the heat. Having to psyche himself out to believe he didn’t just stand too close to multiple bodies in a hot subway cart. Ignoring hot breath reaching his neck as he stood taller than those around him making his journey home all the more uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” closing the freezer door, Jaemin lays his torso on the kitchen counter sluggishly. “Pretty sure the air conditioning broke, again. I called up Mark to let him know. He said no one can come fix it until Monday.”

“Last time he said that, no one came for three weeks!” Jeno exclaims, ripping open the fridge for a frozen water bottle to rub on his sweltering skin. “Jaem, I can’t live like this! It’s over 100 degrees outside.”

“I know, trust me. I’ll keep badgering him, alright?” Jaemin sighs. Already drained of energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.

“I have to get going, you can use my fan for now.” Jaemin offers, using paper towels to dab away sweat before heading out. Knowing he’ll be dripping in it with a heavy bag of camera equipment on his back.

“Where are you going?” Jeno’s already removing his clothes. Jamein mumbling for him to not plaster his wet naked ass to their couch.

“I got a gig finally, I should be back late.” Hauling on his equipment he waves a ‘later’ before stepping out. Head tilting up curiously as he hears shouting.

“Answer me you fucking piece of shit!!”

“Dude what happened to you? Why are you drenched?” Jaemin pauses mid-walk. Adjusting the camera gear weighing on his shoulders as he spots Renjun on the phone outside of his apartment.

“A pipe busted above my room! There’s a huge leak in my closet!” Renjun’s frantic, arm waving around behind him as he explains. “And our fucking AC isn’t working! Again!”

“Oh my God, I’d tell you to crash at mine but ours isn’t working either!” Jaemin sighs, shaking his head. “We need to move out of this shit hole.”

“Tell me about it!” Renjun groans, slamming a thumb down on his phone to hang up. “Haechan’s gonna be so pissed off when he gets home. He’s been working overtime today cause we’re short on rent again.”

“We pay way too much to live in this crap, just because it’s a mile away from SNU.” Jaemin says with a roll of his eyes. “So much for college being the best years of our lives.”

“That’s high school,” Renjun corrects, waving him off. “I have to check on the leak. Catch you later man.”

Nodding to his friend Jaemin continues toward the exit. Passing the broken elevator that Mark claimed would get fixed 5 months ago, never once spotting a maintenance person in sight.

Out of desperation he ended up searching for freelance photographer jobs. Weddings required too much experience, editorials asking for examples of work and complete portfolios.

It felt hopeless until he landed on an ad seeking someone with less experience. Specifically stating they wouldn’t mind an intern level type who is still in the process of learning. Wishing for more ‘gritty’ and ‘real’ photography that can pass off as homemade.

‘Must be comfortable with full nudity and sex acts. You will be shooting and filming content for my xxx website. 21+ with ID proof and examples of your work. Contact me directly via email to set up a time.’

Jaemin decided to neglect mentioning that part to his roommate. It was either this or he’d be short on rent like his next door neighbors’ current struggle. Knowing Jeno he’d hear ‘pornographic content’ and ask to tag along as his assistant for the day. Casually joking about how he could fuck better than the Alphas in video links shared through their group chats.

‘I guess if I’m ever desperate enough for money I’d do it. My dicks big enough.’

Jaemin always thought his friend was too brash for saying such ridiculous things nonchalantly.

He could never have anticipated reaching that level of desperation himself mere hours later.

He’s not sure what to think as he stands in your bedroom. Struggling to process a thought while you continue explaining your field of work, tossing different sets of colorful lingerie onto a king-size bed decorated like something straight out of a home decor magazine.

“We don’t have to take the photos in my room, I’m open to whatever you’re thinking.”

“Oh, yeah yeah..” he nods, taking in the lacey sheer frilly garments splayed out before him. Glancing between the heavy sweats and hoodie you have pulled on covering any bit of scandalous flesh.

Of course you’re covered up, with cool icy air filling the room, silently blasting from a vent above. The sweat pouring off his skin immediately evaporated after being welcomed inside. “What type of theme did you want to stick with?”

“Hmm,” swinging a stringy pair of panties around your index finger, your head tilts thoughtfully. “Summer? I guess baby oil, suns out buns out type of vibe.”

Jaemin clears his throat, twisting his eyebrows up asking if he can take a look through your drawers. “Do you have ice cream by chance?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Flavor?”

“Strawberry popsicles, I think I have some Vanilla Bean too. Are you hungry?”

Turning back to face you, he holds up a two piece micro white bikini. “I have an idea, I’m thinking out on the balcony would be best.”

Jaemin’s very professional considering the lack of experience on his resume. He asks permission before touching anything, double checks that you’re comfortable with any of his suggestions. For an Alpha, he’s kept cool and collected, even as you start to disrobe. The bathing suit he handpicked doing little to nothing to subside less than pure thoughts from unraveling. He gulps, forcing himself to focus on pretending to set the camera up.

Suddenly he was beginning to understand why Jeno’s been dropping absurd amounts of money to jerk off to your content.

“Is this okay?”

His eyes drag up slowly, from your manicured white painted toenails, up the expanse of glistening oiled up skin leading to your pressed together thighs where a miniature triangle shape conceals nothing in-between.

“Uhh..” he salivates, lapping at the roof of his mouth like a thirsty dog.

“Jaemin?” Your tone changes from one of concern to amusement, continuing to spritz your hair with water for a wet summer look.

“You look great.” He nods rapidly, quickly averting his attention to your chest jiggling beneath two tied together triangles with each movement you make. “Sorry, was just a little surprised.”

“You must be mated?”

Jaemin blinks, taken aback by your forwardness, shaking his head before words can exit his dry tongue. “Not at all, why would you think that?”

“Oh, you’re well-mannered, for an Alpha.” You note, shrugging and gesturing to the deck area. “How should I pose?”

“Let’s get some close-up shots first.” Jaemin directs you to catch sunlight draping streams of golden rays across your face. Half shadowed and lit up by the natural light. Instructing you to slowly unwrap one popsicle and take your time to suck on it.

“I think you’ll really like these.” The click click of his camera continues, zooming in to capture your lips pouting around sugary red liquid dripping down under the heat of your mouth paired with hot weather. “Let it spill.”

Growing confident with his position, Jaemin motions for you to hold the popsicle above your parted lips, allowing the treat to pour down your throat. The majority of it missing, staining white lycra fabric stretched over your breasts.

“You’re getting hot right?” He switches to record, nodding to the lounge chair for you to sit on. “Cooling off with a popsicle?”

“Mhmm”

Jaemin stays silent, capturing the wet droplets of red passing down your abdomen to land between your thighs. He lets you pose lewdly, tracing the popsicle down to melt against your bikini bottoms, lighting up hot where your cores melted the fabric to you like a second skin.

“I’m so hot, Alpha.” Hazy eyes and a tempting tone mesmerize the man behind the camera, sinking down to squat and zoom in on slick gushing out onto your spread inner thighs. “Need you to cool me off.”

You rub the popsicle up and down, pushing against the crease that's melted into your dripping wet slit. The red dye used in the treat leaves a stain of sweetness on your bottoms. The white bleeding out into a pink the more it melts, left to wither down to nothing but a wooden stick with a phrase that reads “Today is your lucky day!” hidden under the frozen liquid that’s altered your swimsuit.

Jaemin clenches his teeth to contain a muffled curse. Twitching inside the confinement of his jeans as you arch up higher, pushing your chest up. Round mounds call to his tongue, sticky and wet from oils and sweat.

“Hmm, no I was thinking more like..” The Alpha seems more heated now, possibly from the sweltering heat burning down on your backs. Possibly from the close proximity or the obscene positions you’ve fallen into under his command. He scoops two digits into the tub of melted Vanilla ice cream, lifting them to your lips to lap at. Camera shutters sound as your tongue swirls, sucking some of the sweetness while the rest trickles out pouring down your chin to your exposed chest.

“That’s good,” he whispers, scooping more to dribble down your cheeks and breasts. Watery white cream creates a more lewd image, paired with heavy eyelids shielding your seductive gaze.

“Tell me what to do, Alpha.”

“Turn around.” He instructs, nodding in approval when you get onto all fours and crane your neck for more direction. You’re a natural, he thinks, propped with your ass up at a perfect angle. The sun hitting just right to define the dip in your back and heady gaze staring back at him.

Jaemin can’t believe it when his free hand reaches for the tub of ice cream, pouring the remnants down to land in globs on your buttcheeks. The indecency in front of him feels like a punch to his gut, having to snap photos of the cream trickling down the back of your thighs. The sight before him more pornographic and delicious than he can fully process.

He croaks for you to spread, losing his cool demeanor as your knees slide further apart, playing with the thin strings on your hips. The flossy material cuts between the meat adorning your hips and backside, squishing the shiny delicacy displayed.

“Alpha..” you breathe, falling to your side to give him a full visual of your body lines. Dips and curves shadowed like art with sun rays sliding across your skin.

Jaemin debates with himself, thoughts spiraling that you could just be acting, or you could actually be calling for him to do something. To make the first move, to touch you where you begin to part and show off glistening slick dripping down to the backs of your thighs.

“You’re doing really good.” He swallows, mercilessly throbbing inside of his boxers. “How far are you—..”

He drawls off, following the pathway your digits make between your covered folds. Chest rising and falling rapidly as more sweat sprinkles down from the back of his neck to pool at the dips on his lower back.

“Alpha.”

Jaemin thinks he’s imagining your saccharine vocals whining for him, each letter passing through his ears like dry cotton. Snapping out of it as the heel of your foot nudges his knee, trailing up to rest your toes just where his pants have begun to tent out.

“Uhhh..”

“Alpha, I’m so hot.” You tease, sucking sticky ice cream residue off your fingers. “Won’t you cool me down?”

He wonders what his breaking point will be, fingers shaking around his camera more and more with each photo snapped.

“We’re losing light.” He mutters to save his ass, biting at the back of his tongue to prevent himself from getting fired by unleashing the amount of impure thoughts racing through his mind.

“Do you need a ride home?” Sitting up, your demeanor swaps in an instance, returning to the relaxed mood you had prior to the shoot.

Jaemin’s breath lodges, head shaking as he swiftly adjusts his shirt to hang lower before his crotch before standing up. “All good, no worries.”

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, sporting an expression of disgust while swiping a towel up and down your arms. “Are you sure? I can call you a cab.”

Jaemin refuses to meet your gaze, too embarrassed with his cheeks lit aflame by heat and mortification. He waves breezily, beginning to pack up his belongings. “No worries, I don’t live too far.”

He’s lying, and dreading the long journey back home that will drain his the minimal energy he has left with this humid heat.

“Here, I’ll grab you some water bottles to take for the trip.”

He keeps calm, situating his fully hardened length beneath the hem of his jeans when you turn away. Covering that he’d begin editing tonight and send you the final products as soon as possible.

“Get home safe.” You smile, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “If any Omega catches you sporting wood on the subway, they’ll have you arrested for being such a pervert.”

Jaemin’s cheeks burn bright red with his hand stilling in the air to wave goodbye. A girlish laugh follows as you wave him goodbye and close your door to shower off the remnants of sweet ice cream sticking to your skin. The image of big round eyes full of lust paint the back of your mind, memorizing thick fingers smearing a treat on your chin.

“These turned out great.”

Jaemin’s back, pep talking himself up on the way over to your place to stay cool. Money’s on the line here.

“I really like your style.” You say, browsing through the photos Jaemin took of you yesterday. Too distracted to give you his full attention as he once again admires your absurdly large fully furnished penthouse.

“You even have a PS5..” he mumbles under his breath. Tugging tufts of thick black hair through his fingers trying to calculate just how small his shared apartment is in comparison.

“Oh yeah, a subscriber sent me that,” you wave off like it’s not big deal. Choosing the best shots to use for a new set only your top tier fans would be able to immediately view.

Jaemin can feel his heart drop down to his gut, nearly losing his footing. “You didn’t even have to pay for that?! There’s no way you can afford all of this from just doing Omega fans!”

Snickering, you wink at him, nodding to a stack of packages waiting to be delivered. “Of course not, merch is where the real money comes from.”

“Merch?? Wha—“

“Oh you know, worn underwear, bottles of slick, a mold of my pus—“

“WHAT?” Jaemin has to laugh, pushing hair completely away from his forehead as the skin wrinkles down the middle. In disbelief that Alphas could really be this desperate. As if his best friend isn’t one of the many dropping money every month just to ruin and discard another innocent tube sock.

“It’s a lucrative career, believe it or not.”

“Respectfully, like, ballpark..”

“$90-100k every month.” You inform him eagerly. “Already planned my early retirement.”

“A MONTH?” Jaemin sits back landing against one of the stools lined up by your kitchen island. Hearing those numbers made his head spin, shocked enough to wonder how Alphas could be this stupid. How his own best friend is one of them. “How much do your highest patreons get charged monthly?”

“Highest tier is $100, you catch more bears with honey.”

Jaemin’s eyes bulge, gripping onto the counter ledge, seething between his teeth. “Jeno.”

“Jeno?”

He grunts, gripping hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “My friend, he’s one of your subscribers.”

“Hmm..is he cute???” You ask, amused by the Alpha in front of you losing his professional composure.

“Uh,” Jaemin snaps, shaking his head, trying to calculate how much money his roommate has dropped on your website for the last two years. “God we could have a better A/C unit..”

Looking up at your lost stare, he shakes his head again, waving a hand and standing up. “Yeah, I guess he’s cute, for a freaking idiot.”

“Maybe you can bring him over next time.” You say, cocking a brow suggestively.

Jaemin pauses, reaching to pack up his camera bag. “Next time?”

“See,” moving closer, you take a hold of his wrist. “My fans, they have requests.. but it’s been hard to find attractive young Alphas I can trust.”

“What type of requests?” Jaemin sits back down, crossing his arms. The white short sleeve t-shirt he’s wearing struggles to contain his biceps. Growing stronger and thicker after hauling around heavy camera equipment everyday.

“I have a high roller, ironically a CEO of a well known heat suppressant company.” You start to explain, snorting at the job title. “He’s been begging for months to make this specific content during my heat.”

“Right, and what exactly is he asking for?”

“Just your run of the mill Alpha gangbang.” You say nonchalantly, making the Alpha sat before you splutter.

“What?!?”

“He’s offered to pay $100,000.” You nod. Jaemin has to gulp, head spinning again in disbelief that anyone could be that horny.

“That’s insane.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Sighing, Jaemin shrugs contemplating if anyone would pay for naked photos of him in obscene positions. “My roommate would probably film that with you for free.”

“I’d pay you, of course..” you say, tilting your head curiously to observe his next reaction. Met with a pair of wide shocked eyes, he babbles, laughing awkwardly.

“Me?!” Jaemin’s laugh grows in pitch, slowly losing volume the more he thinks about it. “..how much?”

“How much do you want? I’m willing to negotiate.”

“That’s..” he huffs, blinking in disbelief. “You’re joking right? Just messing around with me?”

“Not at all, Alpha,” with a sneaking grin, you click the camera next to him to turn on. Shifting closer once the red light brightens up, the lense moves around letting out sounds as it focuses on your figures. “We can start slow..”

Jaemin gulps, feeling the proximity between your lower regions grow sparse. Returning to grip onto the ledge of the island at his side where the camera sits capturing just enough of your lips and chests. Inching closer together as you straddle his lap and drape your arms over his broad shoulders.

He gulps to calm the tremor running through his throat, unused to an Omega making the first move. “Me? Y-you want to film content with me??”

“Depends,” you settle onto his lap with a smirk. Easing closer until your crotch presses directly where he’s began to grow. “How much?”

Jaemin shivers, choking on a trail of spit lodged at the back of his mouth. You had already paid him more than enough for some amateur photos taken around your place with little to no effort from himself.

But the prospect of thousands of dollars entering his bank account from only sleeping with a very attractive Omega is more than enough to entice him. Nodding, he mumbles a number without confidence. Reminding himself in the back of his mind that a few thousand dollars can’t be more than mere chump change to you.

“Sounds good.”

Jaemin grabs onto your hips when you agree to the amount. Canting upward to bounce you against the bulge pushing through the seam of his jeans.

Jeno was going to kill him.

“Jeno?” Jaemin steps inside of his boiling hot apartment, kicking off his shoes to a pile with his roommates. The low brrr from his fan sounds, coming from the other Alphas bedroom. “He seriously better not have left that on, running up the damn electric bill as if we need that.”

Jaemin doesn’t expect to find his friend hunched over at his computer, headphones hanging on his neck with wide eyes blaring at the screen before him. “Oh, you’re home.”

“Traitor!” Jeno snaps, lunging up at his roommate, toppling over his gaming chair in the process.

“Jeno! What the fuck! Get off of me!” Jaemin scrambles, his grip slipping off the other Alphas soaked skin. He grunts, pressing his knee into the others firm abdominal muscles to keep him in place.

“You fucked my favorite Omega?!”

“Oh my god! She uploaded it already??” Jaemin’s speechless, caught off guard by the news momentarily enough to receive a slap across his face.

“I can’t believe you!”

“We didn’t fuck! Get off of me!”

“No!” Jeno slaps him again, tussling back and forth on the ground until Jaemin manages to get the upper hand and lock him in place with his bicep lodged against his neck.

“If you kill me, you’ll never get to meet her.”

Jeno’s head lifts, ears perking up like a puppy hearing a can of food begin to open. “What?!”

“Are you going to calm down now, pup?” Jaemin sneers, pushing off using the back of his hand to wipe away sweat that's pouring from his forehead.

Jeno groans, pushing to stand back up, he motions to the screen where a video showing the side of his roommate’s face has been paused. “How did this happen!”

“She hired me to photograph her.” Jaemin begins to explain, rubbing at his sweaty nape. “I don’t know, okay? But..”

His gaze skirts between Jeno and the screen. “Did you watch it already?”

“I was about to! Until I saw your fucking giant teeth show up, was like a nightmare. I had to stop the video before it could get any worse.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed. “Don’t be so dramatic. Could you play it? I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I probably look so stupid..”

Jeno clicks his tongue annoyed, setting his chair back into place to get comfortable. “Unfortunately you don’t. Your dick looks huge too.”

Jaemin smirks, flicking the shell of Jeno’s ear. “Thought you didn’t watch it, liar.”

“I can’t believe this!” Jeno exclaims, clicking the video to play again.

“We didn’t even fuck.” Jaemin leans closer with elbows on his knees. “Honestly it felt so fast, I can’t believe I did that.”

Jeno continues to badger his friend with questions, ripping at his hair as the video goes on. The last thing he expected to see was a familiar face when he got the notification of a new upload featuring your Alpha neighbor assisting you through your pre-heat.

“God, she’s so hot.” Jeno groans, slamming the back of his head against the cushion, one of his hands sneaking beneath the waistband of his shorts out of Jaemin’s line of sight. Too caught up in the video playing to even notice.

It should feel weird to watch himself, to watch you touching him. To see the nervous way his throat bobs up and down the closer you lean in, bumping the tip of his nose with yours as you whisper too quietly for him to not feel nervous.

‘The Alpha next door stopped by,’ you announce for the viewers, toying with Jaemin’s shirt off screen.

“Pft..” Jeno huffs under his breath, squinting at the way you bat your eyelashes toward Jaemin. Flirting with him by giggling, tapping your nails against his jaw on the way to pinch his chin. Falling into a syrupy pretty octave the more you taunt him by repeating ‘Alpha Alpha Alpha’.

Should’ve been me, he thinks, thumbing at the precum that’s filled up his slit.

Jaemin’s undeserving, he doesn’t even know what you want, how you like it. Jeno eyes the kitchen counter, imagining how fast he would have bent you over, tugging on his length eagerly. The gasp you let out as you grind down on Jaemin repeats loudly in his thoughts.

Jaemin’s squirming, ashamed by how stunned he appears on video, too wanton and helpless for an Alpha who should have been taking more control. He let you play with him like a toy, rolling your hips back onto his lap to gain a full erection prodding into your backside.

‘So big Alpha.’

“Can’t believe she fucked you.”

Jaemin clears his throat, swiping his palm across the puffy bulge forming between his thighs. “We didn’t, yet..”

“You won’t.” Jeno says more brazenly, teeth slicing his bottom lip in an attempt to control his rage from toppling over. “You know how much I like her.”

“You and hundreds of thousands of other Alphas.”

“Whatever. Can’t fucking believe this.” Jeno groans, letting out a long dramatic sigh. “My dicks getting soft from watching this, I don’t think I can forgive you for this one.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, letting out a sound of disgust when his friend wipes off his palm on his thigh. “You’re gonna wanna hear me out, and also owe me for this.”

“I doubt it.”

“She asked about you.”

Jeno’s head snaps to attention at that, just in time to miss Jaemin’s grunts passing from his computer speakers. “What??”

“I mentioned that you’re a fan.” Jaemin cringes at the visual of himself on a big screen reaching climax. His face rolling side to side on your shoulder, panting like some teenager experiencing their first rut. The blush on his cheeks high, making its way up to his earlobes burning red. Cumming without penetration like some horny pup, the number of viewers over 60,000 already after only an hour up.

“And?!?”

Jeno’s excited bounce snaps him out of his humility— reminding him that his roommate would have paid for an opportunity like this.

“She asked if any of my friends would be interested.”

“Oh my God!!” Jeno stands up, jumping in place as if he just received the best news ever— in his case, he probably just did. “Oh my God! No! You don’t understand!!”

The dark haired Alpha begins to pace, gathering tufts of hair with blown out pupils. “I’ve dreamt about this for so long! I did this! This is happening because of me!”

Jaemin sports a bored look, listening to his roommate ramble on about how he always knew he’d end up fucking you, he just didn’t know how or when, until now.

“That’s great dude, I guess. I’ll text her, but please do not mention that you’ll be more than happy to do this for free. We need the mo—“

Knocks boom from the entrance distracting the two from continuing their conversation.

“Hey! Open up! This tub of ice is heavy!”

“It’s Haechan.” Jeno announces, unlocking the front door to the miserable expressions his neighbors dawn. “Sup?”

“Let us use your fan? We offer bags of ice.”

They end up huddled seated on the floor complaining about how badly they all need to figure out how to either make more money, or move out.

“Maybe the four of us could split a mortgage for a house.” Renjun mewls over rubbing his chin. “A house with central air ideally.”

Jaemin eyes the three Alphas surrounding him, a melancholic desperation to enjoy their short days of summer left drags their lips down, frowns paired with desperation to do anything to better their situations.

It’s almost too perfect.

Jeno’s hunched over, sharp eyebrows never loosening up, licking at the corners of his mouth annoyed.

“Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.

“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”

Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”

“To film content.”

Haechan pours another bag of ice into the bucket they’ve plotted before a fan, huddled together too close for comfort, occasionally brushing sticky skin against sticky skin. The cool breeze only enough to prevent them from overheating while still secreting sweat as they hold up personal fans to their faces and suck on half-melted Icee slushies.

“Content?” He raises a messy eyebrow, speaking into the spinning fan to alter his voice. “Doesn’t she do porn?”

“Jeno’s a big fan, must be good.” Renjun adds.

“Jeno is a horny dog,” Jaemin scoffs, ignoring the upset gasp his best friend releases. “I mean, I understand why he pays.”

“I pay and somehow you are the one getting a handjob..” Jeno mutters, more than annoyed still. Despite his anger, he still watched the video you posted with Jaemin a few more times. “She only fucks Alphas with notoriously big dicks. Should have been me.”

“Mine’s bigger than yours anyway.” Jaemin laughs, licking away sweat from his upper lip. “Listen, I know you guys are all as strapped for cash as I am.”

“Cash? Oh, I’m listening.” Haechan interrupts, tugging on the ring of his collar that’s dampened nastily with sweat.

“When you say notoriously big..” Renjun drawls, leaning back against a wall, pushing his hand-held fan beneath his shirt. “How big is big?”

“Bigger than you shrimp shit.” Jeno jeers, clicking his tongue arrogantly. “I seriously need to quit this college shit, I could make bank doing Alpha fans.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, too drained by the heat to put up a fight. “You’re a baboon.”

“Whatever.” Jeno ignores his name calling with a dreamy look in his eyes. “The first time I stumbled into one of her streams, she was testing out how fat of a knot she could take.”

Haechan’s head lifts suddenly more intrigued by this topic. “…..well?”

“I’ve never seen an Omega take a knot like her, ever.” He confirms, boasting about how your streams are always at the top of the Omega fans charts. “The coins never stop pouring in when she goes live. She’s always in the top 0.1% on Omega fans, I like to think my monthly subscription helps.”

“This is bullshit.” Jaemin cuts him off. “Look, I made enough in two days to cover 3 months of rent. If we help her out I think.. we could leave this shithole complex. I’m tired of these excuses for why maintenance can’t fix our ancient A/C units.”

“I’d do it for free.” Jeno says, earning a smack to the back of his head from Renjun.

“That’s why you are a baboon.”

“I’m in.” Haechan nods. “I can’t survive another summer like this, I can’t even do another week of this.”

“I mean..” Renjun grimaces. “Like, full nude? My whole dick out?”

Jaemin snaps his fingers for Jeno to whip out his phone, the four proceeding to watch the clip you made with the Alpha as their jaws hang to the floor.

“Oh, I’m so in.”

Jeno’s been running around like a puppy full of life, hopping into the air kicking his feet together letting out high pitched squeals.

“I even shaved my sack for this!” He exclaims, gripping onto Jaemin’s shoulders on their trek out of the subway station.

“Were we supposed to do that?” Haechan asks, taking a look at his worn down raggedy clothing. “I thought the idea was supposed to be.. we’re broke college guys.”

“That is the idea.” Jaemin answers, directing his group of friends into an upscale neighborhood decorated with lively tall trees and blooming gardens. “It’s all an act, we’re supposed to be her ‘neighbors’…and she’s this innocent sweet Omega who we take advantage of during her heat.”

Haechan bites back a smile nudging into his side, thoughts running rampant. “That’s hot.”

“No fucking way, is this seriously where she lives?” Renjun’s neck practically breaks from leaning back to take in the giant building towering before them.

“Yup, high-rise penthouse overlooking Seoul. The lifestyle horny idiot Alphas provide.” Jaemin glares at Jeno who beams with the brightest smile engulfing his eyes.

“She deserves all of it, and more.” Letting out a dreamy sigh he follows along to where Jaemin has to check-in at the front concierge to be allowed further inside. The four confirming their identification before passing along to the elevators.

“This is insane, I couldn’t even sleep last night, and when I can’t sleep, I jerk off!” Jeno complains in the lift. “But I didn’t want to waste— you know! So I ended up tossing and turning all night.”

“You’re worse than those kpop fans that follow around idols and trainees.” Renjun accuses, feeling jittery still about stripping down to nothing to hook-up with a stranger for thousands of viewers, maybe even millions. “This is my lowest low, and you’re about to cum in your pants.”

“I think you lowest low was popping your first knot in Science class when we learned about Omega anatomy.” Haechan grins. “You can’t live that down.”

“Shut up!” Renjun whines, the elevator dinging to upon reaching your floor. The three Alphas stare at the opened doors, gulping in unison before Jaemin signals for them to follow his lead.

“I would say don’t be nervous but,” he shakes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m fucking nervous right now.”

“Dude! You can’t be nervous! What about us?!” Haechan bemoans, gesturing to the three hiding behind the blond Alphas broad frame.

“Think about the money.” Renjun nods, reapplying chapstick to his lips that can’t seem to retain enough moisture. “This hallway alone has more square footing than our apartments combined.”

“Think about the pus—!” Jeno starts to holler, stopping in his tracks as the front door they stand before opens up revealing a face that’s become deeply ingrained in his mind. “Holy shit.”

Jaemin’s eyes shut, smiling and lifting a hand to greet you, internally cursing. “That would be your loyal subscriber.”

“Wow,” leaning against the door frame, you take in the new faces in front of you. The three sporting similar expressions with their jaws hung loose, wide-eyed and breathless. “You didn’t mention that they’re all so cute.”

Jaemin grins, motioning to his friends. “This is Haechan, Renjun, and Jeno, or as you know us, miserable sweaty Alphas willing to do a lot for money.”

“How much is a lot?” You ask slyly, purposely dressed down with a pair of loose sweats on and a loose top to play up a relaxed stay-at-home look for the filming.

“I’ll do anything!” Jeno blurts, slapping a palm over his mouth. “I mean.. my limits are very low.”

“Funds too.” Renjun whispers.

“Understood.” Standing straight, you hold up an index finger. “There is one thing, my funders have a common request. Come on in and we’ll see if you guys fit the criteria.”

The criteria: no one under 9 inches.

Haechan’s throat bobs reading over the contract you’ve printed four copies of. Rubbing his nape that feels cold from sitting in a room with blowing cool air. “I have to admit, I’ve never measured..”

“I have!” Jeno licks at his canines cockily, biting off the cap of a pen to spit off to the side. “11 inches long, and thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.”

“Wait wait!” You laugh, pulling out your phone to speed-dial your highest roller. “Need you guys to show me what you’re working with before we can sign off.”

Renjun’s eyes round, sticking halfway out of their sockets. “Like, right now??”

“Now or never.” Pointing the camera to face them, you nod for them to go on.

Jeno’s the first to jump to his feet, already half mass confined in a well fitted pair of black sweats. “I have nothing to lie about.”

True to his word, he pushes his boxers and sweats beneath his upper thigh in one fell swoop. His length falls free slapping onto the cotton fabric underneath , jerking mid-air, the fat pink tip darkening the longer he sits and waits to live out his wildest dreams.

“Very good.” A low deep voice emits from your phone’s speaker. “Bigger than the blond even.”

Jaemin’s head snaps up at that, squinting while sneaking a look to his side with an annoyed pout. “That’s not true!”

“The other two.” Says the voice, clearly coming from a male.

Haechan shares a pleading look with Renjun, moving to stand, waiting for the other to do the same. Huffing out a deep sigh, he hoists himself up sluggishly, tugging on the strings dangling in front of his groin.

“Well..” Haechan shrugs, smiling timidly as he unzips and draws himself out with a stroke at his soft size “I’m a grower..”

Renjun’s cheeks puff out, repeating money money money in his mind as he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his length free.

“They can stay. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself too much.” The Alpha hiding on your phone screen chuckles. “Can’t wait to see what they do with you.”

Hanging up after hearing the approval, you hide a smile behind your hand taking in Renjun up and down. “Cute.”

“Did you just call my dick cute?!” He squawks, frazzled as he tucks himself away.

“You are really cute!” Haechan intervenes, throwing an arm around his roommate's shoulders, whispering ‘money’ with a pointed glare.

“The idea is that I’m in pre-heat,” you motion carelessly, beginning to stretch your limbs where you’re seated. “That’s the idea, but I actually am in pre-heat, so it works out great.”

“Oh, that’s..” Jaemin collects the signed contracts, gnawing on his upper lip. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Shrugging, you wave him off. “Don’t worry about it, I might get a little..”

Jeno’s practically salivating the more you continue to talk, all too familiar with how crazed and desperate for Alpha cock you get during your heats. His fingertips burn from rubbing up and down his thighs like a maniac, slurping at the drool gathering at the sides of his tongue. An overwhelming sensation of dizziness and lust replaces any semblance of sense as he sits across from you.

“Jeno?” Jaemin snaps his fingers, breaking the Alpha from his mesmerized trance. “Come on.”

“What??”

“I have to start setting up, were you not listening?”

“Uhh..” Jeno looks lost, flushed from the tip of his nose down to his pink chewed lips, causing Jaemin to grunt and grab on to the other to drag him out of the room.

“She’s gonna start with Haechan and Renjun first.” He reiterates, smiling to himself. “Because they’re smaller.”

Renjun fumed when you felt the need to mention that, pinching at Haechan’s forearm to control his temper. Humiliation that thousands of strangers would be watching him bare ass already had him regretting agreeing to this, now even more with you mocking his size for not being big enough.

“Should we step out then?” Haechan gestures toward the entrance, smoothing out the wrinkles on his t-shirt nervously. Everything becoming much more real now that he’s seconds away from hooking up with a stranger— not that this would be his first time, but on camera suddenly made things feel much more high-stress and real.

“Yeah, why don’t you guys show up saying your air conditioners not working.” You suggest, turning on the various cameras you have around your apartment for weekly live streams. “Don’t worry about acting really, it’s not that serious.”

Renjun follows after his friend, shifting about anxiously, muttering that he can’t stop the tremors running through his hands.

“We have sex all the time.” Haechan says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Okay, we have had sex. Maybe not a lot. Don’t think too hard, she’s an attractive Omega close to her heat, and I’m here..”

Renjun nods, rapping his knuckles against the door with a deep shaky breath.

“Hey?” You answer, ruffling your hair with a groggy look as if you’ve just woken up.

“Oh! Hey!” Haechan utters, waving awkwardly. “Hope we didn’t wake you! Our air stopped working a bit ago.”

“That’s terrible, it’s so hot out.” You groan, faking a yawn, tugging on the collar of your t-shirt to play up how hot you feel even inside of your chilly quarters. Renjun observes how well you fall into the ditzy cute innocent Omega you must portray on camera for your fans, pouting and whining at the end of each word like a petulant little brat.

“You think we can crash with you while the maintenance team works on it?” Renjun cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leans against your door frame.

“Ah, it’s kind of..” words stumble out alternating between whiny sounds as you attempt to think up an excuse. “I—….okay..”

Spinning on your heel, you offer them something to drink as they situate in your living room, seated on the couch they’d filled out their contracts at. “Thanks!” Haechan calls out, picking up a remote to scroll through the TV guide for something to watch.

Renjun glances back and forth suspiciously, his nose twitching, falling into character with more ease than he’d envisioned to be able to. “Hey, is it just me or she..”

“Oh, she definitely is.” Haechan says confidently, setting an arm behind his head with a grin pinching at his lips. “Why else do you think she hesitated to let us come in?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

The two share a sneaking look, settling at opposite ends of the couch to leave you with no choice but to sit between them when you show up with a tray of beverages.

“Oh..”

Neither seem interested in your presence, both lazily sprawled against the arm rests with their focus on the tv.

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Haechan asks, throwing the remote aside. “Nothing to watch.”

“You guys can play..” you sigh, eyeing the small space you’ve been left with to sit between the two Alphas. Stuffy and cramped as you adjust to seat without trying to touch either of them.

“Nah, Renjun’s a sore loser. He complains way too much because I always win.” Haechan mumbles, holding one of the controllers out for you. “I’m sure you’ll be good.”

“What if I lose?”

The browns coloring Haechan’s iris gleam, speckled by different shades of orange and gold, inching closer until his lips sit centimeters away from yours. “If you lose..”

Renjun licks at his lips behind you, trailing his eyes down your back, becoming curious as to what you have hiding beneath the oversized t-shirt you probably slept in.

Haechan straightens up, blowing out a breath across your mouth. “..if you lose—you’ll sit on my lap the next round.”

“Next round?”

“Yeah,” he leans back, falling into a confident demeanor as he chooses to play as Yoshi. “Winner takes all.”

Princess Peach failed to even end up in the top 5 after the amount of times you swerved and smacked into the race track walls. The two Alphas at your sides hiding their and amused laughter with coughs the more you struggled and grew frustrated, wanting to hurdle the controller at a wall.

Haechan doesn’t say anything as music signals for the next round, spreading open his thighs to make room for you, he nods toward his lap with a silent command.

“I don’t think I can play again.” You say, feigning exhaustion by slumping back into the couch.

Renjun leans over, pinching your chin between two fingers to force your gaze up. “That’s not really fair is it, princess?”

A lazy hand lands around his wrist, pulling his fingers down lower to land on your throat. “I’m too hot.. can’t focus..”

“Come on princess, you know the rules here. You agreed to play, now you have to follow through.”

Haechan’s nose finds the column of your throat, gripping onto your waist to pull you onto his lap. “Stupid Omega letting the big bad wolves inside when her heats about to start.”

“No— no, Haechan, don’t..”

“Shh, you knew what you were doing.” Renjun squeezes your throat, shaking your neck with a tight hold. “Dripping right through your underwear as if we couldn’t smell you from down the hall. Don’t play dumb now, Omega.”

“I c-can’t..”

“Why are you lying, huh?” Haechan asks, pushing your ass down against his crotch. “Besides, when did I ask?”

“Don’t lie pretty, the more you lie, the more this will hurt.” Renjun catches your bottom lip just as Haechan slips his fingers past the top of your sweats, lowering slowly to cup your heat, letting out a grunt on your shoulder when he’s met with slick spilling out past the seat of your panties. Inner thighs coated with a mess of sweet delicious wetness dripping out of your hole like a broken faucet.

“No—no, not there, please..” Your pleading only makes them laugh, Renjun letting out a bitter chuckle as he releases his hardening shaft. Stroking up and down right before your face to give you a clear view of how thick and long he sits at full mass.

“So cute, right?” He taunts, shifting onto his knees on the couch to set his hips near your face. “Little brats like you think you can always get your way.”

Haechan slips in past your underwear, quietly cursing into your nape at the amount of slick dribbling between his digits. In disbelief that you’re this wet already, that they haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re drenching his crotch through your sweats.

“That little act you put on crumbles the second you see Alphas cock baby.” Renjun’s fingers trail up from your throat to your chin, thumb latching onto your bottom lip to pull it down. Drool gathers at the corners, trickling it’s way out down to your jaw to meet his digits that press harder. “Tell Alphas what you need, don’t fucking lie.”

“Renjun, pl-please, don’t be mean.” You gurgle, lapping at his thumb shoving your lip back and forth.

He grins, pushing the pad of his thumb down until you give and let him in, resting against your tongue heavily until you let out a gagging sound and wrap your lips around him.

“All that useless begging, look at you right now.” He sneers, pushing three more fingers into your mouth with ease. “Just like that, so obedient and cute.”

Haechan’s panting, working his hips up in circles against your damp bottom. Relentless with his digits rubbing in a blur over your clit. Nipping and sucking on your throat to quill some of his arousal that shouts throughout his head to rip off your sweats and plant you on his length until you cry out, begging to get fucked.

“Renjun,” coughing around his fingers working in and out of your mouth, you gag again, copious amounts of drool fountaining out around his hand down to your collarbone. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

Renjun loves it, loves how easy it was to shut you up, make you grovel for his cute cock. Pleading to do anything to you, to make you feel good.

“Something, please please Alpha.”

“This what you want?” Teasing at his slit, he eyes you curiously, wrapping around the base of his length to stroke himself to full hardness. Chubbing up impressively, definitely not as cute as you’d perceived.

He teases the tip along your upper lip, layering a coat of thick precum there to blend with drool. “Show me what that pretty bratty mouth can do.”

He felt even bigger against your tongue, finally breeching past your lips after pulling back teasingly with each flick of your tongue at his slit. The playfulness rapidly diminished as he buried forward, suffocating your nose with the smooth skin beneath his navel.

Sucking and gagging became inevitable around the Alphas size stretching your lips open painfully. Letting out loud groans above you with each ragged breath blown through your nose against his skin, each sloppy slurp around his size. Vibrating out moans between struggling to breathe when Haechan’s fingers sank lower, tapping at your entrance with extra force as he pushed the elastic in your underwear to the limits to get three of his digits inside of you.

The tip of Renjun’s length brutally punching the back of your throat only spurred more wetness out, gliding Haechan’s fingers to bury deeper. Growling as he nipped at your earlobe about how nasty you are, getting turned on by sucking cock like a whore.

“Only real sluts get wet from sucking dick, you know what that makes you baby?”

Licking up the bottom of Renjun’s length, you nod, enjoying how he weighed down on your tongue. Lips swollen from each pointed movement further pushing your mouth to open wide and take his entire size, tearing up and coughing all the more even as you tried to slow him down. Hands uselessly flying to grip onto his thighs and plead with wide begging eyes for the Alpha to slow and let you breathe.

“Aww, not so cute anymore?“ he grins, pushing your hair back grabbing fistfuls with a tight lock of his fingers; commanding control by pushing you further down his shaft to take it all.

Renjun never gave your mouth a break, thrusting his hips forward with vigor to fill your throat over and over. Biting down to calm pleasured groans from exiting, not wanting you to know how much he was enjoying this. You needed to earn it.

“That’s it, that’s how slutty Omegas suck cock.” Haechan praised, licking at your earlobe. Thumb swiping your clit in rapid motion as his fingers continued to pump inside you. “Cum around my fingers, let me feel you squeeze up. Cumming from taking Alphas dick down your throat. You know who cums from that baby? Bratty little Omega whores.”

“Ah, fuck,” Renjun’s tough facade snapped, breaking into pieces when your eyes rolled back the more Haechan stroked between your walls. Hips stuttering to a halt as his upper lip trembles over his teeth letting out breathy whimpers. “G-gonna cum, ugh fuck.”

A few more weak thrusts had hot release pouring down your throat. Shots of hot cum hitting your tonsils as your thighs clenched up, jutting back against Haechan with your hands reaching to clutch his wrist, squirming and crying around Renjun’s length as your own release hit. Punching from your gut to your throat, convulsing in time with each other dragging out a long orgasm from Renjun, collapsing down to his knees leaving cum to trickle out onto your chin.

“Fuck.”

Haechan’s sucking his fingers clean, licking between each to not miss any bit of your sloppy release, his free hand working to pull off your ruined bottoms with Renjun stripping your top off. Breath knocked from their lungs upon seeing your bared skin, obscenely wet down to your knees, hazily staring at them standing above you as you try to recuperate.

Haechan’s tongue drags across his palm, gaze lit up by the fear passing over your face the longer they stand there observing you. He’s the first to move, bending over by his waist to get in your face, whispering out hotly. “Now, tell me something.”

A ruthless grip captures your mound as he distracts you, digging the heel of his palm against your tender clit. “What type of useless Omega are you? Haven’t made me cum once.”

“B-but, you said..”

Two fingers roughly crook inside inside, gliding in despite how swollen your folds have become, filled with blood pumping down between your thighs. Throbbing loud enough you swear you can hear it, emptying the parts of your brain that help you function, giving into the heat with each press he buries deeply, curling his fingers up until your back arches. Crooning between a shattered moan.

“I said?” His pretty soft eyes widen, precious like a stuffed plushie you’d cuddle through the night. Actions speaking louder than the false image he uses to taunt you more with. “What did I say? Huh? Suddenly you listen?”

“I listen!” You end up shouting, too shook up by the stinging smack landing on your inner thigh. Digits ripping free from your core, oozing out tendrils of thick slick obscenely.

“What do you think, Renjun?”

Renjun’s face gives off more purity than Haechan’s, the smile teasing at his lips so sweet and soft. Irises gleaming angrily, sleek and cold. The two of them quietly preparing to destroy you. “I think she hasn’t done shit to prove why we should fuck her again.”

“Is that right Omega?” Haechan rips your head back, spouting a line of spit inside of your parted lips, he smacks at your jaw, dragging you to move by pulling at your scalp. “Say it.”

“Wanna make you cum Alpha, wanna be good for you.”

Renjun’s throat lodges a bit from the needy way you stare between them, letting Haechan’s spit rest on your tongue, pushing it out through pursed lips. Sweat dampened hair, big wet eyes, bloated spit coated lips, and slick pouring from your hole in globs, absolutely pornographic. He considers— if he had the money, he’d pay for your content too.

“Good,” Renjun voices, sitting down to move you onto his lap. Shedding his clothes off while Haechan played with you, his cock pressed to your lower back, fully hard again. “Because I’m gonna knot your pretty little pussy.”

Suddenly he’s pulling you back onto his cock with one smooth glide. Scrambling to position yourself with feet scurrying to perch on his thighs. The sound that emits when he shoves in absolutely filthy— disgusting, choking a moan from between your lungs as you head tosses back again.

“What makes you think you deserve to cum again?” Renjun bites at the shell of your ear, thrusting up sloppily from the amount of slick pouring onto his thighs. Slapping the sides of yours until your legs completely bend, steadily planting your feet above his knees to prop you open for the other Alpha.

“I’ve been good!” You cry out, repeating a chant of ‘please please please’ like a prayer, head flopping back onto his shoulder harder when Haechan crawls forward on his knees spitting at your clit. Tongue smearing the mess lower, meeting with Renjun’s length stretching you open. Tongue curling around your clit as two fingers find way to your entrance, gathering the wetness spilling out around the other Alphas cock.

“Please!” Renjun grunts, hips slapping against your bottom, digging his nails into the backs of your knees. Straining to fuck you faster, groaning louder each time Haechan’s tongue laps slick off his length.

“You—haven’t earned it yet.” He grits, breathlessly cursing.

“Please! Let me—Alpha, please!” Eyes roll to the back of your head, shouting out, clenching your toes. “Ahh! Ah—ahh fuck!”

Haechan shoves three fingers inside of you as Renjun thrusts out, pushing in through the free space to prod at your insides. The slide of cock against his long calloused fingers setting off a stinging pain to your chest.

“So fucking tight.” The Alpha on his knees says proudly, working to match Renjun’s thrust. Not even bothering to give you time to adjust, he sets a snapping pace pummeling a path inside immediately. “Don’t think she should get to cum until she can take us both.”

“Hear that baby?” Renjun breathes, delivering a pointed thrust to emphasize what Haechan said, pistoning with more ferocity and anger. The tip of his cock catching on your painfully stretched entrance with each pull out. “Begged to get fucked like a slut, that’s what you think you deserve?”

Between Haechan’s warm breath blowing on your clit and Renjun’s unforgiving movements, endless pleads begging to cum spill from your tongue. The Alpha inside of you chasing after his climax faster while bouncing you up and down, fingers jamming in and out, cock lodged deep inside, tongue flicking your clit over and over again.

“Alpha! Please—please cum!”

“Where?” Renjun huffs, thrusting harder, blinking sweat away from his eyelashes. “Ask for it!”

He slaps at your thighs, beating the skin with wicked stings. Cracking dry whimpers from your throat as Haechan’s lips suck around your clit. “I-Inside! Please! Inside!”

Renjun’s throat locks up, chest heaving and squeezing tight making it harder to breathe, pushing deep past where Haechan’s fingers can reach inside of you. Struggling to keep up his speed as the base of his size expands, pushing through with teeth gritted, hips not slowing for even a second despite the new resistance gripping him. Cum bursts, spilling down around his length from the extra stretch inside of you, flowing down to the other Alpha’s wrist who licks it up, suckling up the nasty mess of slick and cum.

“A-alpha..please let me cum, please.” Desperation has you near the brink of insanity. Body full blown trembling in the weakened hold on your thighs.

Haechan smirks, tucking his fingers inside his mouth, pushing up with his free hand to spit the combined release on your chin and chest. “You really think you deserve to cum already? What about me?”

Haechan’s pushing one of your thighs up higher before you can even register what’s happening, weakened and overstimulated from being edged for too long. The tip of his length prods at your filled entrance, dragging over your swollen clit, dropping his forehead to yours as he begins to push in past the tight squeeze he’s met with.

The cries and whimpers you let out only encourage him, pressing in more as he holds his breath, sucking in his nostrils to restrain the need to cum. Making Renjun let out a pitiful grunt against your shoulder when he slides against the other Alphas size. Knot full grown making his brain spin from the stimulation rubbing against him.

“So fucking dirty.” Haechan says, shoulders tensed from trying to contain himself. Throbbing against the deathlock your walls wrap around him as he meets obstruction, blending with Renjun’s length beneath. “Fuck, so fucking dirty and messy.”

The ache burns painfully, worse than before, stinging the backs of your eyes with moisture that pushes out at the first thrust he gives. Gliding in and out of you easily with Renjun’s cum leaking down between his thighs. Haechan buries his size inside of you with pointed thrusts, doing it with extra force just to watch the tears pour from your eyes faster, just to hear your cries grow louder, pour from the walls like music reverberating out of speakers.

“Made to get fucked.” He mutters, licking at sweat and tears dangling from the tip of your nose. “Made to take Alpha cock like this, take it like a good Omega. Offering your holes to any Alpha, desperate for a fat knot, so fucking greedy you need two.”

“Hae-haechan—“ it’s barely a whisper, croaking from the back of your throat. Bounced down onto Renjun’s knot, getting hard again enough to compose himself and match up to Haechan’s pace even when it hurts him. Too lust ridden to stop himself when your ass bounces against his stomach. Firm strokes filling you up, rubbing against each other incessantly.

“Fuck, gonna cum.” He pants against your lips, tongue laving out like a hungry dog. Biting and sucking on whatever he can catch, leaving your mouth more swollen and bruised. “Make Alpha cum baby, wanna feel that pussy squeeze up again.”

Guiding a hand between your bodies, he thumbs at your over-sensitive clit again, sending shock waves of pleasure up your spine. Head jerked back onto Renjun’s shoulder, blabbering between your cries as you finally clenched around the two; orgasm barreling out of you sending a wave of electric shock up to your brain. The scream you let out echoing off the walls, permeating obscene wet squelches paired with the Alphas noisy grunts.

“A-ahh—“ Haechan’s head drops, knot ripping out around his base with one more thrust, locking him into place unable to move anymore as his cock weeps. Cum pouring out of him fiercely, endlessly streaming out. Only able to stay inside from the knots battling to keep you plugged up.

Renjun’s hips jump up just once, grinding upward letting out another release between a strangled groan that barely exits his lips.

“N-no no more, noo..” you hiccup, sobbing into the crook of Haechan’s neck. The ache in your legs gone numb from the overwhelming heat filling your gut, splayed out like a broken doll between the Alphas. Panting like animals stuck in humid heat that won’t allow you to catch your breath.

“Good Omega.” Haechan pecks wherever his mouth can reach, nudging his nose against your eyelid. “God, you’re so good.”

Renjun lets out a muffled sound agreeing, blowing hot air along the back of your shoulder.

“Thanks for..” Haechan grins, lip curling up wickedly. “Letting us come over.”

He’s not sure if he should kiss you, blinking up making direct eye contact with one of the various streaming cameras— he remembers that this isn’t live, opting to gently peck the tip of your nose. “You okay?”

“Mhm..” your eyes can’t seem to stay in place, as if the sockets have lost control of power, rolling back still too high off your climax. “Thank you Alphas.”

“Hey?” Jeno pokes into your bedroom, subtly ducking his chin in to hide the thrill painting his features upon seeing your set-up. Swallowing down a raspy cough, he glances around, smirking at the visual of your pink bedding. The room he’s dreamt of for months, weeks, days, restless nights awake stroking his cock to made-up fantasies of turning you around into multiple positions on this bed.

He’s calm, mostly, stealing looks around for where various cameras have been placed to capture different angles of what’s about to go down.

“Jeno?”

Your voice shivers up his spine, flaring his nostrils as he lets the scent of rose petals in your body wash lingering on your flesh circle around him. The prominent aroma of heat hits stronger than any amount of scrub and bubbles you used to cleanse your skin of Renjun and Haechan’s cum.

Honey.. sweet dripping honeycombs..

Jeno has to stop himself from sucking down a deep breath of slick gathering between your thighs. Muscles strain beneath the sweat soaked cotton material of his shirt, twitching while he tries to keep collected, turning to face you with an easy smile. “Jaemin sent me in to see if you’re ready for the photoshoot.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming too?”

Jeno shrugs, explaining his sweaty appearance by telling you the story of their broken air conditioner while you sort through a rack of scantily clad garments hung on silk hangers. He thinks it’s fitting, everything in your bedroom screams feminine, delicate and pretty, only adding more ideas in his mind of different ways he’d love to rip off your designer lingerie. His monthly fee had to contribute to your closet somehow.

“Everyone’s air conditioner’s breaking from these heatwave’s..” you mumble, shyly gripping tighter onto the towel wrapped around you.

“Do you feel uncomfortable with me being here?” Jeno questions, proceeding to carry on conversation as if red lights from the cameras couldn’t bother him in the least.

“A little,” you say, sparing him a coy look over your shoulder with a small wink. “Jaemin told me that you’re one of my subscribers. Maybe you can help me choose what to wear?”

Jeno’s mouth hangs open comically following your towel slipping off, immediately hit with a potent waft of your scent. He has to tighten his fist as his sides to stop from lunging at your bare backside. Stepping closer with thinning eyes to stand behind you, he digs at your shoulder with the tip of his nose. Hands finding the back of your waist to tickle at with light grazes.

“Why would you put something on?” He glowers, quietly speaking. “You think I won’t just rip it off of you?”

“Alpha, what are y-you..” Jeno’s instincts take over, already forgetting he’s here technically to work.

“I’ve been subscribed to you for a really long time.” He whispers for you, hoping the microphones Jaemin set up can’t pick up on his low rumble. “Is that weird?”

Jeno’s cute— kind of in the same way Renjun’s dick is cute, but even cuter. The calmest he’s been since arriving with the others just now, pheromones similar to an Alpha pup entering their first rut, even that aspect melted your chest, having to bite your tongue from over-complimenting the Alpha in the moment to keep the act going.

“Do you know how many of my subscribers wish they could fuck me?”

Jeno splutters, pinching his fingers into where your waist dips, bottom lip jutting out as he shakes his head.

“Every single one of them. Don’t let them down.. Alpha.”

He’s been waiting so long for this, even had to wait while his friends fucked you first. Chewing at his nails nervously while he sat out on the balcony with Jaemin, he thought about it, remembering each time you’d notice his messages in the chat and responded with a devilish smile.

“None of them have ever wanted you as much as me.” Jeno steps closer, positioning your chest against the wall with his hips circling against your backside holding you in place with one palm flattened on the curve in your spine. “None of them will ever fuck you the way I’m about to.”

“Alpha..” you say it in such a gentle tone, lowering down to the coquettish gamer girl voice that always makes payments drop into your account faster. Tongue hanging out for Jeno’s eyes to track, following the little wiggle you give before he snaps, darting forward to trap you between his lips.

It’s not a slow kiss, lacking rush as he savors tasting you for the first time. Just as sweet and tantalizing as he always imagined, better even; cherry flavored jolly rancher that he wishes could permanently stain his tongue with remnants of its flavor.

The Alphas strong build melts heavily against your back, trailing bony long fingers between your lower halves to tug himself free.

“F-fuck.” You gasp, planting your forehead against the wall, losing the hold around your tongue. Lips returning to an abused swollen state from the heated kiss.

“I know how you like it.” Jeno whispers, licking up your jawline to your earlobe, nipping as he slaps his length between the crevice of your ass. “I know how you love it.”

His shaft feels weighty on your bottom, slapping down landing with obscenely loud smacks the cameras could pick up on even without microphones. “How’s your pussy gonna take all this dick baby?”

Jeno already has your eyes rolling up, from the gravely rasp in his tone to his sheer mass pressing heavy on your body, forcing your nipples to scratch against the wall sending shrill sensations down to the gushing space between your thighs. “Thought you were a fan..”

“Oh I am.” Jeno clicks his tongue, kissing at the backs of his teeth. Bending at his knees to swipe between your buttcheeks. “Gonna fuck every part of you.”

He pushes between your thighs to emphasize, grunting like a beast against your nape. Excitement from before spiraling into the pure need to fuck and breed, fill you with pups before any other Alpha can.

Even between your thighs Jeno feels too thick, forcing your knees to bump into each other with each splitting thrust he gives. Pushing at his sweats haphazardly to relieve his balls of the heat swarming his skin, his Alpha taking over chanting to mate mate mate. Each slap of his hips screams against your backside, resounding an aggressive clap throughout your bedroom.

Jeno can hardly believe your slicks staining his sweats, leaking out for him, pussy folds draping around his size pleading to be filled. “My Omega, gonna be dreaming about my cock after this. On your knees for me, begging for Alpha to fuck you.”

The heat between your thighs becomes unbearable, jammed against his size viciously strumming your clit. Heavy palms cup your waist, riding you back and forth on his length faster, scrabbling at the wall.

Jeno shouts a string of curses, ripping away only to throw you down on the bed. Throat tight as he swiftly twists off his shirt. Pupils blown wide covered in black, a blush rising from the center of his chest to warm pink nipples, tracing the veins lining his throat to where his lips swell into a pout.

He stands proud following your heated gaze to his gleaming shaft standing tall, reaching the middle of his carved abdomen. Instinctively clamping your thighs together when he approaches, kicking his sweats off, smiling too adorably as he captures your thighs.

“What happened to being the queen of taking cock?”

Jeno lets out a giggle, a fucking giggle, amused by the sheer terror crossing your expression. Spreading your thighs apart, losing his stature when your heady scent hits him. Pussy insanely drenched leaving a puddled mess to create under your ass.

His length drapes down the center of your stomach, the tip landing just above halfway. Poking at your muscles twitching under his size. “That’s how deep I’m gonna fuck you.”

The need to claim you and make you his intensifies more, mesmerized by your hole twitching, pulsing around nothing. Your body screaming from anywhere to get fucked, for him to fuck you, that’s all Jeno can think. You need him to fuck you.

“Only I get to see you like this..” He says, jaw locking when he has to specify. “…out of all the Alphas who pay.”

The realization stirs up the Alphas primal hunger, desire overflowing to ruin you, ruin you for only him. Ensure that no one else will ever be good enough, no one else will ever satisfy you.

Jeno almost feels embarrassed as he circles the tip of his length on your entrance. Shivering from his thighs to where his throat bobs up and down. Prolonging teasing your hole only for his sanity— quietly pep-talking himself up to not cum in a minute, he hadn’t edged himself for hours into the night missing sleep over your videos to fuck up this chance.

After what feels like an eternity, he sucks down a deep breath lowering inch by inch into your sopping wet cunt. Lewd ridiculous sounds of wetness gush out around his fat size, walls clamping down sucking him in to move even faster. True to his word, your stomach extends when he sinks inside to the hilt, cock pushing your walls to a new stretch. Fiercely throbbing between your convulsing heat.

“Oh fu-fuck..” Jeno’s mouth drops open, his eyes rolling up as if this was his first time. Your pussy tightening around his size like a glove, the veins beating up and down his length molding to the shape of your insides. “So—so fucking tight.”

Jeno’s mewling, brain thoughtless to the cameras recording, not a care in the world about the amount of comments that would make fun of him. His reaction only confirming you weren’t just a pretty Omega for Alphas to shower with gifts, but the actual girl of his dreams. The fleshlight he discretely kept hidden under his bed from your merch site would never be able to compare.

He pulls out only to slam his cock back in, drowning in the way you spasm and clench around him. Pussy locked tight refusing to let go, knowing in the back of his mind he’d have you trained to take his size everyday, turn you into the perfect doll to sit on his cock.

The Alphas hands find your curved waist, dipping the pads of his fingers in to gain momentum. “So pretty, you’re so pretty.” He says between labored breaths, cock stroking in and out too rapidly, losing coherency too much to even understand him.

Jeno’s speed becomes punishing, caught up in his own crazed lust, determined to push cum far deep enough inside of you that you taste him in the back of your mouth.

Moans and whimpers soar off your tongue, head thrashing side to side as the Alpha lifts your ankles to his shoulders, pounding faster until you’re limp. Hanging boneless on his cock spearing all the way inside, bulging the skin around your navel out with each deep hit.

“Alpha..c-cum,” you babble breathlessly. Air knocked out of you with each unforgiving slide of Jeno’s length pushing your mind further away. “C-close, I—close.”

He nods, taking the initiative to fuck you with extra force until you’re shouting, gripping at the pillows above your head. The pillows he’s watched you ride and get off on countless amounts of times. Memories of cumming in the shower, at 3am in bed, even in the school bathroom resurface as his gaze takes in your breasts bouncing, clapping together from the impact of his body engulfing yours.

“Cum for your Alpha, cum for me baby.”

Your orgasm clutches you by the throat, beckoning your back to arch up as your release nearly forces Jeno’s size to push out. Wetness spritzing over his abs and chest, even reaching up to slap under his chin.

“What’s taking so long?” Jaemin steps in right as Jeno folds you in half, the backs of your knees hoisted to the sides of your head, neck thrown back in a complete daze.

The Alpha on top of you catches his friend entering from the corner of his eye, a camera in hand as they planned for better up-close shots under the premise of photographing content for your page. His thrusts never falter, angling and maneuvering just right to reach where you need, pummeling moaned gasps from the back of your throat.

“Gonna fill you full of pups.” Jeno mostly says to himself, voice rough and serious with each dip crushing his abdominal muscles together. Sweaty and flexing the more he grinds forward, grunting through licks at his teeth. “Want Alpha to breed your pretty cunt? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Fixated on chasing his release, Jeno pushes your thighs to your chest. Pressing hard watching his cock punch through your slick velvety walls. Entrance clinging to his thick girth, looking raw and used, still wanting more.

Droplets of sweat rain down, landing to melt along the backs of your legs from where they jump off Jeno’s jaw, neck rippling under a sheet of sweat. Exerting more power to cage you completely, leaving little to no room for you to even squirm away.

Jaemin expected to walk in on this, what he didn’t expect was the wash of annoyance that poured down his mind. Biting at his bottom lip to control himself from ruining the moment, he powers on the camera in his hand; zooming in to your face as Jeno leans in to give you the messiest, spittiest, barely there kiss. A kiss more so meant for his friends eyes only.

“What was that?” Jeno spews, wet hair flopping on his forehead. The heat from your bodies overpowering the air blowing from the vent above your door. Even Jaemin has to lap away sweat from his upper lip the closer he approaches.

Jeno’s question breaks through your mind with another ruthless snap of his hips. Chanting a round of broken yesyesyesyes, shouting out for the Alpha when his relentless pounding turns erratic, burning your back to shift up your bed. Damp bedding lights fire up your back, dragged harder by the Alpha losing his restraint, stilling right as your head hits the headboard.

Jeno’s growls sound close to whines, pup whines. Fucking like he’s never had a rut before, never slowing, emptying cum deep inside your walls for what feels like hours. Knot popping, sending hisses between his grinding teeth, deeply wrinkled around his squeezed shut eyes. Shallowly continuing to fuck your pussy through his never ending orgasm, knot attempting to sneak through with another thrust.

“Too much! S-too much!” You sob, head reeling and aching from how hard Jeno had fucked you, the headboard smacking back when you collided.

Jaemin taps his friend's shoulder, breaking his daze. Finally letting your legs down gently to not flop down harshly.

Jeno wants to curse, cry, shout and scream, kick his legs. Smoothing his hands down soft tender flesh lining your inner thighs, fixated on your ruined hole plugged up full of his cum, filled to the brim by his cock and knot. “So perfect.”

He shifts back just enough to admire white hot release squeeze out. Knot covered with a mixture of you both, something he could get off to if he had a photo on hand. Nodding for Jaemin to come closer and get a shot as he dips his digits to collect some of the blend, raising it to your lips letting out whines from over sensitivity.

“Open baby, that’s it pretty baby.” He coos, pushing a filthy wad of your cum onto your tongue, plump lips wrapping around his fingers with a suck.

Jaemin concentrates on filming your face, his dick twitching when your relaxed expression switches to one of fear, Jeno going on about how good you feel, how he’s your Alpha now.

“Who owns you now? Hmm?” He asks, penetrating his digits further in until you’re gagging, coughing from the rough pace he starts prodding your mouth with.

“You know why she’s not answering?” Jaemin interrupts, scanning the drool that's covered your chin and chest. “You can’t own a slut.”

Without another word, Jaemin elbows Jeno’s side, taken over by how long he’s waites. How infuriated he feels having to witness another Alpha fuck you stupid when that should be him.

The Alpha in question grumbles, knot gone down enough to be shoved aside with ease to be forgotten. He sits near, doing as he was instructed to earlier— ‘film it like a viewer would enjoy, you should know how.’

Jaemin’s fast to turn you over, his hands brushing up the backs of your thighs to grip your hips. Positioning your ass up like a good Omega presenting for their Alpha, not even giving you a minute to realize he’s about to fuck you face down ass up before he swipes between your folds gathering slick and cum, burying into your ass with one push.

He’s big— so fucking big. Fully erect, stretching your hole wide around thick fat girth. The better part of Jaemin long gone, his only care now to fuck your ass raw, hear your wails blast around the room, claim a part of you before Jeno can.

He’s so deep, filling your hole up giving you no time to even adjust, writhing as you reach for something, anything. Clutching at your bed topper, at Jeno’s smooth built thigh. The Alpha panning over the exposed white of your eyes, tongue hung out trickling saliva out like something straight out of Hentai.

Jaemin’s strong thighs press to the backs of yours, cock fully breaching your hole, stinging from the tip of your spine all the way to the top. Cries, sobbing cries sound before you can even register, fucked too stupid by the fullness splitting your ass open.

Nothing about the Alphas movements comes across charming or polite anymore, brutally gripping your hips with a bruising hold; leveraging your weight to snap forward forcing a deep bowed arch in your back.

Skin clapping against wet skin boomed around your bedroom, muffling the whimpering moans spewing from your chest. Jaemin only spurred to fuck you full of his rage— rage that should be directed at the Alpha equally irritated behind the camera.

“Alpha! Please—“ saliva collecting around your tongues slips free, covering your chin in more of a mess. Adding more obscenity to the visual of Jaemin’s broad figure behind you, pushing the mounds of your ass to roll over onto your lower back with each pummel of his hips.

“Did I say you could fucking speak?” Jaemin growls, slapping your hip before looping a fist through your hair. Yanking to lift your head for the camera lense to zoom in and out and focus on the disaster that’s taken place. Tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, lips debauched from chewing and biting, snot mixing with sweat above your pout. A nasty little mess, manhandled around by Alphas like nothing but a useless fucktoy.

“You see Jeno?” He leans over, pressing against your ass making your thighs scream from the burn of his weight pushing you into a half-split bent at your knees. “He’s your biggest fan.”

Jaemin’s tone fills with mockery, taunting and picking at his friend, taking a hold of your jaw with his other hand to make you look at the camera, look at Jeno’s enraged face hiding behind it. The cold gaze watching you coiling heat through your gut, spiraling up your chest. Trapped by the Alphas hand lowering to cup your throat with a squeeze, coughing through sobs the more he tightens.

“So fucking ungrateful, he pays so much just to watch you, pretend you belong to him.” Jaemin tuts, lifting hooded eyes to glare at the other. “This is how you thank him? Let his best friend fuck your ass. Such a fucking whore.”

Jeno’s lips pull back in a snarl, silently warning his roommate to stop trying him. Making him suffer as much as he’s made you with the bullshit he goes on saying.

“You can thank him better than this.” Jaemin says, roughly shaking your throat in his grip. “Come on, open up that pretty mouth.”

Instantaneously your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, causing Jeno to grunt, clamping his free hand around the base of his shaft. Shame and thrill combining to rip a guttural moan through it all. Jaemin only using your brainless weakened stated to his advantage.

The Alphas bicep lodges against your throat, squeezing your breath to choke out with every thrust, his other hand fisting your hair until your neck arches back in a painful way. Jeno getting an amazing shot of your tongue hanging lifelessly, drooling onto Jaemin’s meaty bulging bicep. Biting down on it hard enough to shock yourself to waken enough and cry.

Jaemin’s nose buries behind your ear, licking at whatever he can reach. Hiding his voice by latching onto your neck. “So fucking sexy, you’re so fucking hot.”

He gets it, he more than gets it. Stilling to circle against your ass as he lets out a less than manly whine. The desperation rumbling from his chest lets you know he’s close, face crumpling behind you, doing his best to keep it a secret with his nose tucked into your hair.

His thrusts snap like quick jabs, sharp and pointed. Expertly fucking your ass without losing his pace, without caring if you even get off. Letting your head drop, Jaemin gives your scalp a break, slapping a firm grip on your shoulder to keep you in place. The impact forcing your face to drop forward, biting down on the bicep shifting under your chin. Thick meat of muscle fills your taste buds, laving at it pathetically to compress the wails trying to crack from your lungs.

Jaemin knows he doesn’t have to do it, he doesn’t owe you a damn thing. Reminding you to be grateful he’s even fucking your slutty ass, he jerks your neck back up, cracking in the process. Pushing your hips up with his length grinding into you. Fingers swoop down, blurring over your clit in a mean way just to make you cry more. “Show your loyal fans what it takes to make you cum.”

Fumbling to fist the bedding, you convulse, pussy clenching at nothing. Squirting all over your thighs, ruined pretty pink blanket, and the Alpha’s forearm continuing to vibrate pushing your orgasm over the edge.

Jaemin let’s out a cracked groan, having to slow down from the ass clamps around him. Thrashing against his arm making the pressure worse on his cock.

He sighs through a moan, cupping your bruised hip to pull out, cock landing with a wet slap where your butt perks and rounds out. Struggling to keep his eyes open as he groans filthily, the tip of his length prodding in and it of your hole to push his cum in. Letting the rest of it cover your ass with a creamy layer.

“There you go,” he sighs, kissing your temples. Licking away sweat that’s about to clump your eyelashes together more. “Such a good Omega.”

He eyes the teeth marks shining under a coat of drool left behind on his arm, softly dislodging your chin while massaging the back of your strained neck. “Hungry little puppy.”

He thrusts back in once more for good measure, making you squeal and hiss, his heavy hand pushing at your lower back to slide out with calm. Cum bubbling around his softening length as your rim pulses.

Jeno lets out an angry scoff, grabbing onto the back of your leg once Jaemin finally moves off. Grumbling something about how his friend took long enough.

“N-no! No more!” You cry, wailing, weakly trying to crawl away on your knees. Jeno tossing you onto your back like a rag doll after Jaemin emptied the life out of you.

“Shh, be good for Alpha.”

The last thing you hear before your eyes roll to the backs of your sockets. Lungs crushed under Jeno’s weight as he sinks deep inside your ass pushing the rest of Jaemin’s cum to pour out.

“Hey.” Jeno’s eyes light up above you, his face all fresh with floppy damp hair. Sporting a soft smile, patting a cool cloth on your forehead. “You’re awake. I think your heat actually broke.”

“Hmm?” Sitting up on your elbows, you see Jaemin sitting at the end of the bed, a shifty gaze roaming between you and the other Alpha.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, rubbing at the side of his neck, a nervous habit.

“Kind of sleepy.” You yawn, settling against two stacked pillows. Jeno continues to pamper you, apologizing for losing control with a look of concern.

“That was the point, Alpha.” You reassure with a wink, tracing the lines of his opened apologetic palm. “Should have the video up by tomorrow, after my editor cuts all the unsexy stuff.”

Jaemin clears his throat to interrupt, wishing Jeno would leave first so he could talk to you in private. It’s not as if his roommate should have any type of claim on you just because he was horny enough to pay for a monthly subscription.

“We should leave so you can rest.” He nods. “I have some errands to run tomorrow nearby, if you need anything..”

Jeno’s jaw pops open, fixing his friend with an offended look. The other proceeding to ignore him with a shrug.

“Thank you Alp—….Jaemin..”

“Of course.” He smiles politely, the demon that had just wrecked your ass long disappeared by now. “Let’s get going Jeno.”

Jeno follows after Jaemin, trudging to exit with slumped shoulders, weighed down by an impending sensation of regret. Tilting his head side to side annoyed the more he thought about it.

“Be right back!” He spins, jogging the short distance back to your bedroom to find you still blissfully laid in place ready to fall asleep again.

“Hey.” He smiles brightly, blinking to keep his eyes as open as possible despite the way his cheeks ache from stretching his lips so wide.

“Jeno? Did you forget something?”

The Alpha steps back inside, sinking your bed in where he sits and pulls out his phone. “Yeah, your phone number.”

“Ahh..” covering your face, you can’t resist the urge to squeal. The overly eager Alpha unleashing shyness and excitement in your chest. “So cheesy!”

“I should’ve been cooler, right?” He wonders, teeth chattering with a nervous laugh. “Strolled in like— what’re you doing this weekend? Other than me?”

“Jeno?” Jaemin pokes his head past your door, having followed after him and listened to this embarrassing back and forth long enough. “Let’s go. Now. Haechan and Renjun have been waiting for us at the restaurant.”

“Oh yeah yeah, sorry.” Jeno leans over, stealing a kiss on your forehead as if his mouth hadn’t just slathered the entirety of your body in sucks and bites. “Get some rest.”

Jaemin nods, staying behind as his friend walks out. “Can I text you still?”

“Huh?” You question sleepily, confused as to why he’d ask. “Of course.. Alpha.”

Jaemin smiles, ducking his chin to hide the blush seeping through his cheeks. “Maybe we can hang out? next Saturday?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

a/n: Jeno favoritism always😭

ps- kinda proofed/kinda not🥹💙

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct 00 line smut #00 line smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #lee donghyuck smut #na jaemin smut #huang renjun smut #lee jeno smut #kpop smut #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct renjun #nct jeno #neopuppy fics #onek #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #nct dream 00 line #nct dream imagines #nct dream x you

[cryonme]

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐔𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

—graham dunne x fem!reader

—summary: the story of you and graham dunne was never simple, but his love for you never faltered.

— word count: 2.7k

—tw: addiction, implied drugging, alcohol, cursing, reader says she "doesn't wanna be here anymore", very obvious signs of mental illness, the works...

—a/n: so... I did not intend for this fic to be this long or this sad, but here we are. I'm breaking it into two parts so its easier to read, part two is coming shortly!! I apologize for how sad this is lol but I promise its a happy ending story! also, sorry for how I wrote daisy! she's my girl and I love her, it was just for the plot I swear! this is the first fic I've posted in about 6 months so im rusty, please be kind! and please, don't read if anything listed in the triggers is going to upset you, I want you all happy and comfortable! XO

(flashbacks in italics)

Nothing was ever Daisy’s fault, was it?

At least, that’s what Graham Dunne thought when he got a call from Karen saying his girl was wasted at a party with Daisy attached to your hip.

She should have known what you were struggling with, she should have known that you couldn’t handle a party, she should have known this wasn’t what you needed. Daisy Jones should’ve fucking known.

To be completely fair, they really all should’ve known. You’d been around since day 1. Everyone knew better, Daisy just happened to be the red corvette.

-

“You can’t keep doing this, my love.” Camilla whispered oh so gently, holding your hair back from your face, pressing a cold rag to your neck.

It was a small gig, at some shitty bar called Tony’s in Pittsburgh. The band always had a couple beers and maybe a shot or two before a show but you had begun to need more. You snuck vodka into your water bottles and begged the bartenders to sneak you a couple free extras by pulling your top down and leaning over the bar, using your forearms to push your tits up. 

It worked every time. Pigs.

“Can do whatever I want.” You slurred, cheek pressed to the toilet seat.

But damnit, you knew she was right.

Tony’s wasn’t the first time.

There was Rod’s, and The Ladie’s Room, and The Shiner Saloon, and some girl named Lisa’s 18th birthday party. It was becoming a pattern, everyone could tell.

You always went back to your house after a show. Your parents had been completely absent since you were 15, you never knew where they were. And after every show, their cars were never once in the driveway.

A safespace.

Billy would sit outside of the bathroom, head leaning against the door while Graham waited in the living room, arms crossed and head down, not wanting to listen to your cries and shakes of pain.

Eddie would retreat to the guest room, but he usually wouldn’t be able to fall asleep til he heard the click of your door next to his.

Warren would be passed out on the couch as soon as you all walked through the door, not that he didn’t care about you immensely, but the poor kid could just not stay awake if he was tired.

“I wanna go to bed.” You said.

Camilla sighed, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You nodded and so did Camilla. She got up to get Billy like she always did, and he’d come and pick you up off of the bathroom floor, as he always did, and carry you to your room and lay you on the bed, letting Camilla make sure you’re comfortable, like she always did.

Graham would come in and ask how you’re doing, like he always did, and he’d make himself comfortable on your floor with throw pillows and spare blankets, like he always did.

But that night, after Tony’s, things changed.

“I can’t do this anymore, Graham.” You whimpered.

Fuck.

This was early days, Graham was still awkward as hell and didn’t know how to go about things like this.

“Do what?” He croaked, mustering up the courage to be there for you.

“This. I can’t live like this. I’m afraid I’m gonna kill myself.”

Graham was up in an instant, reaching for the doorknob. “Do you want me to get Camilla?”

You shook your head, “No, please. Just-” You wiped a tear from your cheek, “Will you just lay with me?”

“Anything.” Graham breathed as he settled into bed next to you. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, being too drunk to care about any awkwardness and Graham was thankful.

“We’ll get you out of this, promise.”

-

That was the last time anybody saw you drink anything besides a beer or two, following that was shirley temples and cherry cokes.

Nobody really knew the heaviness of addiction then, but they knew that you were happier, and that’s all that really mattered to them. You were even laughing at Warren’s jokes and Billy and Eddie’s lame bickering, everything felt okay.

“You don’t drink?” Karen had asked, the first time you properly met in California, while she was digging through the fridge searching for a beer. You shook your head, hoping you weren’t going to get some crazy reaction like you were a zoo animal in a cage like you got from most people.

She just nodded, a small smile playing at her lips as she pulled two coca cola bottles from the fridge, popping them open with her ring and handing you one.

“Cheers to that.”

You were sober enough to realize you were in love with Graham, and confident enough to tell him. And man, he could’ve exploded.

There was a celebration, at the house in Laurel Canyon, just the 7 of you.

Warren recalls later that Graham looked like he’d been dipped in sunshine and rainbows.

“Like he’d just smoked sunshine and been fucked by a rainbow. It was crazy, man.”

Well, almost.

You’d been around the band multiple times while they drank and it was never a problem. You’d have the first round of beers with them then tap out, but you always stayed and had fun, smoked a couple joints and cigarettes, never without a mocktail or coca cola in your hand. Sometimes, usually Karen or Camilla, someone would join you on the sober night, and that always felt really nice.

That night had felt different, you were scared.

-

“I’m gonna fuck him up Warren…” You said as you laid on the floor with the drummer as Down By The Seaside by Led Zeppelin played from the record player, Warren laughed.

“Yeah you are.” He said, his tone suggestive as he bumped his elbow with yours.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the heat creeping into your cheeks. “You know what I mean, man. I’m gonna ruin him.”

Warren had known you long enough and listened to enough of the songs you wrote to where he’d like to think he knew you pretty well.

And you never opened up out of the blue unless you were drunk.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked, not looking up from the ceiling. You scoffed.

“I still have a beer here and there, Warren.”

“You know what I mean, man.” He repeated your words back to you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m going to bed.” You said and stood up, trying your hardest not to stumble or slur.

“Honey…” Warren started, pushing himself off of the floor to try to stop you.

“NO!” You whipped around, flipping your hair so forcefully it stung your face but you were quick to pull it back.

“Don’t fucking- don’t fucking do that, man!” You started, holding a hand up. “My own friends don’t even fucking trust me i’m just constantly babied! Do you know how that feels?”

At that point, Karen, Eddie and Billy had tuned in, being in the kitchen. Camilla and Graham must have been elsewhere, he had always confided in her like a sister.

“Hey–” Billy tried to interject with a hand on your wrist but you were quick to pull away.

“Huh?! Do any of you know how that feels?!” You were borderline screaming now, and everyone was speaking to you so softly, hands slowly trying to grasp you and it made you want to scream even louder.

“How dare you ‘ccuse me of something like that asshole?” You were beginning to slur your words, the tequila you’d snuck from Warren’s room starting to hit pretty heavily, making your eyes droop and words slur.

“Baby, please-” Karen started, making the move to grasp your arm but you turned and lost your balance, nearly falling but Eddie was quick to catch you, he held on tight and didn’t dare let go until you calmed down or Graham came back. Billy had left minutes ago to find him and Camilla, who had taken a walk so he could freely gush about his new girl without the chances of anyone else hearing.

“Need you to calm down, babe.” Eddie whispered, running a hand up and down your arm for comfort.

“None of you even care!”

Warren shook his head alongside Karen, both of them had squatted in front of you, doing their best to provide what you needed.

“That’s not true.”

“I fucking hate you all!” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t wanna be here anymore!”

And then he said your name.

You froze.

He was gonna leave you, you were so sure of it. You worked so hard to be better for him and it didn’t work.

“No…” You whimpered and you swore you saw Graham break in front of your eyes.

“You can’t- you can’t see this.”

But he didn’t care. He knelt in front of you and Eddie and gathered you into his own arms, completely silent as he carried you to his room and you wanted to disappear into him so badly.

“‘M so sorry…” You slurred, and still he was quiet. You let him undress you and replace your pretty top and flared jeans with his own tee shirt and boxer shorts.

You watched as he changed into a similar outfit as you picked at your nails. “Graham, I-”

He sighed and placed his hands on either sides of your cheeks, placing a firm kiss on your forehead that only made you cry harder. You brought your hands up to grip his wrists, not willing to let go of the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Graham was silent again as he pulled you into his bed with him, covering you both with the large duvet.

“Not in the slightest.”

-

That night was really the last night anybody had seen you get drunk like that.

Then, Daisy Jones came along.

And you learned how to keep bad habits a secret.

Tequila and mints in the bathroom, water and cherry cokes with the band. A shot of jameson to fall asleep. Champagne to wake up, brush your teeth. A beer in the shower after lunch, leave the evidence in Warren’s room since there were hundreds of empty ones anyway.

It’s not like Daisy was teaching you one on one, you just started watching her, and you liked the way she got away with it.

No one told Daisy about your issue either, you could hold your own and you had asked them not to, so lips were sealed.

But it took everything in Graham and Billy not to tell her to tread lightly every time they saw the two of you sneak off on your own.

And now here was Graham Dunne, sitting in the driver's seat of the van outside of God knows who’s house, with Camilla in the passenger’s seat and Billy in the back. Moral support. 

“Want us to come with you?”

Graham shook his head. “I need to do this alone.”

Billy scoffed, “I’m not gonna let you go in there with our two hot headed alcoholic rage sisters. Cam, you stay here.”

“Nope, you go I go. You two get our girl, I’ll handle Daisy.”

The three bickered a moment but finally settled on their plan. Graham and Camilla would take you, while Karen and Billy took Daisy, since the blonde girl drove.

“Fucking finally.” Karen exasperated as she saw her friends walk into the backyard of the party while trying her hardest to hold you upright.

“Where is Daisy?” Billy spat immediately, making eyes around the party. You had always been like a sister to him, in the way Camilla was to Graham, and he could’ve killed the redheaded girl in that moment.

“Beats me.” Karen said, passing off your deadweight into Graham, who was quickly supported by Billy. Your head lulled onto your boyfriend's shoulder, recognizing him as a source of comfort even in your inebriated state.

It made his soul ache.

“Is Simone here?” Camilla asked.

Karen shook her head, “Was. Split as soon as she and Daisy got into a fight. Offered to take this one” she nodded her head at you “home with her but I figured it’d be best if you guys came.”

Graham shook his head, “You made the right call, thank you.”

“Yeah, well uh, I sure as hell can’t drive. Got drunk as hell before even stepping foot in the backyard, soon as I saw (Y/n) I stepped in and called you guys immediately.”

“Do we need to get Daisy?”

“That’s a fight you sure as hell don’t wanna have. Yelled at me just for taking ‘her best friend’ away from her to get her some water.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

Graham and Billy began making their way out of the party with you slung around their shoulders, and Camilla walking arm in arm with a very drunk Karen who kept tripping over feet.

And suddenly red hair and sparkling eyes were in front of them.

“Ohhh no, what happened to my girl?” She tried to touch your face but Billy pulled you away, ready to say something before Graham spoke up, surprising everyone.

“Your girl, Daisy?!” His voice boomed, no doubt you’d be embarrassed if you were in any way conscious. “This is my girl, our girl.” He gestured to the rest of the group. “And I’d say it’s in your best interest to leave her the hell alone from now on.”

-

Graham was a mess when he got you home.

Daisy ended up at the house not too long after the rest, explaining she didn’t know the situation, apologizing profusely, informing them all you had been drinking for months. She told them in a sullen voice that you hadn’t been this bad last time she saw her, that she thinks someone must have done it to you.

Graham understood, he did. But he couldn’t look at Daisy. How could she let you out of her sight, to allow someone to do this to you? It made his stomach turn. Billy was next to his brother this time, in the living room, a hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing from time to time, and instead of standing Graham sat with his head in his hands, creating knots in his hair as he ran his fingers through it. Cam and Karen had you in the bathroom, after seeing the panic in Graham’s eyes they decided to take over that part, knowing it wouldn’t be easy for him to see. Warren stayed up, and Eddie didn’t retreat to his room, Daisy paced back and forth outside of the bathroom, biting her nails. Graham could hear it, it was driving him nuts.

“Would it kill you to be quiet for two seconds, Daisy?!” He groaned, running a hand over his red splotchy face.

Everyone knew that Graham was just upset and taking it out on Daisy, the red corvette, which wasn’t exactly fair, but they also knew better than to argue with Graham at that point.

“You know what, Graham?!” Daisy stomped into the living room, planting herself in front of the Dunne brothers with her arms crossed.

Graham didn’t look up.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” Daisy used her thumb and pointer finger to grip his chin and pull his face up to look at her and she immediately felt guilty at his tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

She sighed, and crouched before him.

“I know it’s hard, and I’m so, so sorry this is happening to her. But she makes her own decisions, Graham. No one could’ve stopped her.”

Graham nodded, but still wouldn’t look in her direction. “Will you go check on her, please?”

Daisy would later tell the story with a frown on her face, and she’d recall never being that scared for another person before, despite the smile she put on for Graham.

“I didn’t-” She took a breath, “I’d never seen it that bad before, at least not while I was sober. I thought she was going to die.”

Daisy retreated to yours and Graham’s shared room shortly after discovering she couldn’t stomach staying in that bathroom, deciding to make herself useful by getting the bed ready, fluffing the pillows and retrieving some fresh clothes for you to wear to bed, making sure she grabbed ones that smelled like your boyfriend. She dropped the clothes off in the bathroom, and passed along the message to Graham from Karen and Camilla that it was time to take you to bed.

This had been Billy’s job, since before The Six was even The Six, that’s how it went. But things had changed, Graham had grown, and it was his turn.

part two coming soon!

#graham dunne x reader #graham dunne imagine #graham dunne #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones and the six fanfic #warren rojas #eddie roundtree #billy dunne #daisy jones #karen sirko #karen karen #warren rojas x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #billy dunne x reader #simone jackson

[guess-my-next-obsession]

The Babysitter

pairing: pre-outbreak! joel x babysitter!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, smut under cut, age gap (Joel’s 32, reader is 25), fwb to lovers, unprotected piv, creampie, joel has feeeeeeelings, soft ending)

word count: 1.2k

joel masterlist

“Quiet, baby,” Joel shushed into your ear as he fucked into you on your side, his back like a wall behind you. Your whimpers were breathless as he kept grinding his cock deep inside of you, slowly stroking against every good nerve until you were dizzy. “That feel good?”

“So good,” you whined, turning your head to meet his lips. Joel groaned into your mouth as he gripped your hip, holding you in place while his thrusts grew harder and faster. He caught every moan that tore from your chest, giving them right back to you as you drenched him in your arousal.

“Shit,” he hissed, pulling away from your lips and dragging his kisses to your shoulder as he hiked your leg to drape over his hip, spreading you open for him. He lifted two of his fingers to your lips and you sucked them into your mouth, getting them nice and wet before he plucked them free and lowered them to your clit. Your strangled cry was caught in your chest as he started to circle your swollen bud in time with his sharp, punctuated thrusts. “Pussy is so perfect…so wet for me.”

“You feel so fu-ucking good, Joel,” you whispered your praise. Joel smiled against your shoulder as he rested his cheek against it, using all his energy and strength to fuck you like it was the last time he’d ever get the chance. “Shit—gonna cum soon…cum with me, baby.”

“Fuck—inside?” he gasped, the fluttering of your walls turning him feral. “Fuck, you sure baby?”

“Yes,” you begged in a dazed whimper, your high slowly trickling down your spine, pulling you into bliss. Joel muffled his growls by burying his face in your neck, keeping you close to him as he spilled inside of you with his arm wrapped around your body. “Fuck,” he panted, kissing your pulse. “Felt so good, baby.”

“You’re telling me,” you beamed as you turned around, forcing his cock to slip out. Joel pouted at the loss of your warmth but hummed once you laid your head against his chest, proud of the quick thump in his chest that your presence caused. “I hope I wasn’t too loud.”

“No, you were good,” he assured, trailing his fingertips up and down your spine.

“I should probably get going,” you sat up, Joel’s chest still heaving as he watched you climb out of his bed and get dressed. “Don’t want Sarah to catch us.”

“Yeah,” he held his tongue and agreed with you even though every bone in his body felt sure that whatever was happening between the two of you was much bigger than this fantasy of a casual hookup the two of you originally embarked on.

You’d been Sarah’s babysitter for a little less than a year, meeting Joel through his younger brother Tommy who you’d known from your bartending days. Now a twenty-five year old without purpose, you were quick to accept the side-gig watching Joel’s ten-year old daughter on school nights until Joel came home.

Sarah was a quick witted, mature, easy to handle kid. The job could hardly be counted as work, the two of you enjoying each other’s company as though you were friends. It almost felt wrong to charge Joel ten dollars an hour to spend time with her, but he insisted.

At some point, your bond with Sarah began to extend to her father, as well, fleeting greetings turning into late-night conversations that turned into you underneath him, his hips fucking you into his mattress. The evolution happened so subtly and quickly that you hardly even had time to think about the repercussions of your situationship until you’d already grown too invested, your heart now requiring a dose of him a day to function.

“What…” Joel’s trailed off thought brought your eyes to his as you buttoned your jeans, your head tilting at him as encouragement to continue. “What do you think about us…you know…tellin’ Sarah?”

“Joel,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t want to lose her and I feel like she’s going to feel betrayed. Like we’ve been sneaking around behind her back. And we are, you know? I just…it’s easier to keep it simple.”

“This doesn’t feel simple,” he disagreed with an exhale, his hands running over his face. “It’s not normal to do this. It’s not healthy.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you did start this,” you countered, defensive over nothing as your stomach filled with anxiety. You didn’t want to lose Sarah by telling her, but you also didn’t want to lose Joel by refusing to.

“Yeah, I started it, and I’m trying to keep it going.” He climbed out of bed and tugged on a pair of sweats. You looked longingly at him across the room, wanting to comb your fingers through his bed head. “I can’t keep actin’ like I don’t want more.”

“I want more too, but—“ you sucked your teeth, frustrated by the lack of options presented to you. “She’s like family to me.”

“I know,” he sighed and nodded, hands on his hips as he hung his head.

A couple quick knocks to Joel’s bedroom door had the two of you shutting up, your eyes wide as you looked at each other with dread before looking at the clock reading 7:00 a.m., Sarah’s wake-up time for school.

“Shit.” Joel cursed as ordered you to hide in his en-suite as he opened the door. “Morning, baby girl.”

“I was gonna start on breakfast,” she tried to peek around her father’s body but he moved with her. “Relax dad, I know."

“Know what?” he feigned ignorance.

“Pancakes or waffles?” Sarah called past her father, the sound of your name falling from her lips making you feel dread and then relief. There wasn’t any of the anger you expected laced in it, only amusement.

“Waffles, but I’ll come help.” You emerged with a timid smile, Sarah’s grin smug as she looked up at her blushing father.

“Know what?” Sarah mocked her father as she headed downstairs, Joel’s head shaking at her impression.

“Well,” you earned his attention, biting your lip. “Guess that’s out of the way now.”

“Does it change things for you?” he asked, his eyes bouncing across your features in hopes of discovering the truth of your feelings.

“What do you say you and I go out on a real date one of these days?” you suggested, poking his stomach. Joel chuckled and nodded, pulling you close and resting his hands on your hips as he leaned in for a sweet kiss.

“Gotta find a new babysitter, I suppose.”

“Or just bribe Tommy,” you suggest, smiling into the kiss.

“That’ll work just fine.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou

[marzipanandminutiae]

ok yeah I'll bite what the fuck was Diane's problem because holy SHIT

What The Fuck WAS Diane's Problem, indeed. I lost contact with her since I quit that hellhole, and I'm not sorry. (Please picture a petite, thin, golden-blonde white woman around age 50 wearing high-end boho/athleisure clothes.) But her Fun Quirks included:

being like. weirdly dedicated to our crappy retail job at a company run by a former real estate bro. we sold fancy stone tableware and got commission, so she would hang around after her shift in case someone she'd talked to earlier came back to buy. to make sure SHE got the commission from the sale. we each had individual passcodes for the register, so she could clock out at the correct time and still get sales credited to her. a few times she got mad at me for "stealing" her sale (read: ringing someone up who she'd previously talked to, like an hour into my shift)

pushiness. EXTREME pushiness. she had amazing sales numbers, probably because she wouldn't take no for an answer. I once saw her chase a man down who had walked away from the shop, because she'd chatted with him but he hadn't bought anything. she chided me for "letting him walk away" afterwards

toxic positivity. I once commented, during a shift change, that the market where we worked seemed slow that day. with a big sweet smile, she told me to NEVER say that because we needed to be giving off positive energy that we'd get lots of sales. um. okay

as previously mentioned, being super-pumped at the idea of our boss taking our stool away and mad when I pointed out that that was, how you say, literally illegal in our state (because "nobody needs to be sitting; it doesn't look welcoming!")

her email was something like [email protected]. very business-y. I asked what her other job was. turns out that was just her personal address; she didn't have a business or a side gig or anything

She let everyone think she was a manager. We didn’t have a manager; just the owner and the salespeople.

She tried to gaslight me into thinking she had been there as long as I had (she hired on a year after me) and therefore had seniority. Again, none of us had power over each other

the stealing from the register thing, which was just bizarre. at 23, working my second post-college job, I was desperately trying not to get in trouble; at 31 I would stand my ground more. In short: the exact amount I’d taken in cash went missing a few hours into my shift, when Diane was hanging around as usual. She knew where we hid the register key when we went to the bathroom, nobody would have looked askance at her rooting around in the stall, and when I called her panicking after mid-shift drawer count, she was ADAMANT that I must have forgotten to take the cash from all three customers who had paid me that way.

To the point where, when I called the boss to report the incident and hesitantly said “I think I might have forgotten-“ she barked at me “NO. YOU KNOW. YOU KNOW THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED. YOU DON’T THINK; YOU KNOW.”

I did not fucking forget to take cash from three separate customers and if this happened today, her response would raise a huge red flag for me

There was no camera on the register area so I could never prove anything. But money went missing from the drawer “overnight” after two other people’s shifts, who hardly seemed like thieving types, and Diane was all too ready to cluck over their alleged crimes. And since she was always gunning for more shifts…I don’t know. It was just very weird.

She ultimately got her wish when almost everyone else quit- and then became burned-out by manning the stall single-handedly. Womp womp.

#long post #ask #anon #retail woes #retail work #personal

[i-magines]

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 3

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6  | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.  

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.  

word count: 1,509

Over the first month, your friendship with Pedro only grew stronger. You were afraid once the production set was moved to the country, he was going to just disappear, as you were no longer roommates. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he didn’t make you feel anything, especially with how charming and flirting he was. You both had shared a lot of personal stuff over smoking joints and you were already used to hanging out together after a day of filming. But today things were going to be different, because the producers had organized a little happy hour for the crew.

Speaking of them, you had asked Pedro to keep your friendship on the low, at least during the job. You knew what everyone would say and think, mostly about you alone, so you were looking after yourself. He understood that and apparently didn’t care to be sneaking out like a teenager to spend some time with you.

“There you are”, Pedro happily greeted you on the corner of the happy hour room, about two hours into the event. “I almost didn’t get the chance to see you today. How’s everything going?”

At this point, you were certain the director hated you, but thank God he was the only one. Everyone else seemed to really like you and your work, which helped a lot with your anxiety.

“He spent the day trying to drive me crazy… Again”, you told Pedro. “You?”

“I would definitely rather be directed by you, if I’m being honest” he said in sympathy. “But yeah, it won’t take long for me to tell him to fuck off. Super nicely, of course.”

You both laughed. You could see he had been drinking and so did everybody in the room. Somebody turned up the music and Pedro dragged you to the improvised dance floor. You danced for about half an hour, until you saw him going to talk to Donna, one of the producers. They seemed friendly— too friendly, if somebody asked your opinion. You noticed it before, how close they acted sometimes, but at the end of the day, it was none of your business. Flo, the make-up artist that got you the job, got your attention and you walked to her.

“What’s up with that face?” She shot you the question. Flo was in her mid 40s and you got to know her in your first gig, since then she was always trying to connect you with people. You really liked her and, most importantly, trusted her. “You looked like you were about to commit murder on the dance floor. I know Dave is giving you a hard time, but honestly he is doing this to every single soul.”

“I was just wondering, is Donna taken?”, you asked as if you had no intention behind it.

“Yeah, I think so”, she told you. “Why? You gay too?”

“Someti— wait, what?” You stared at each other for a few seconds. “Is she?”

“As far as I know”, she said simply. “And by that I mean I’ve known her for about 10 years now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, you didn’t. I mean, good for her, right.”

You decided you need to put your shit together now on. You excused yourself and went to get another drink — you can be a new woman tomorrow. You took some shots and got a drink to hold while you watched everyone dancing and having a good time. You tried to force yourself to stop thinking about your crush on Pedro.

“I need professional help”, you whispered to yourself.

“And why is that?”

“Shit, Pedro!” You jumped, realizing he was right by your side. “You scared the shit out of me, you shithead.”

“Wow, language, sweetheart”, he laughed at your reaction, putting his arm over your shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Not much, just enjoying the free drinks”, you replied, also enjoying the proximity of his body. “I can see you’re enjoying them yourself.”

“Nah, I’m thinking about getting out of here, people are starting to get too drunk and God forbid I witness anything I can’t unsee”, he was being playful and seemed happy when he got a smile out of you. “Care to join me? Or you already have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, you know me, Miss Popularity herself”, you both laughed. “Seriously, though. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Is it okay if we leave together? Considering your privacy policy”, he whispered in your ear. Only if he knew how weak that makes you. You just nodded. “After you, mi princesa.”

Fuck you, Pedro Pascal, you thought as you made the effort to move your shaking legs. Two options: first, he had no idea of his effects on you, or second, he did know that and he just liked to torture you. However it is, you were not willing to make a move to figure it out. 

The location of the shooting was a huge farm, so you walked together through the open field, towards his cabin. You got inside and took your shoes off.

“Hey, mister ‘I’m just a common worker as everybody else’, tell me again why exactly you are the only one with a private hot tube”, you teased him. He laughed. “Is it because you’re such good friends with Donna?”.

“So that’s what it was about back in the happy hour?” Pedro looked deeply into your eyes. “Such a jealous little girl, uh?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You can’t deny your brain formulated that sentence, but the alcohol spilled it out your mouth.

“Answering your question, I’m not really friends with Donna, but her partner is one of my closest colleagues in the industry”, he said in a patient tone. “And you’re welcome to use the hot tube whenever you feel like it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to— to be honest, I don’t even know what I meant, so don’t mind drunk Y/N”, you breathed out strongly.

“Why don’t we forget about it and instead go chill in the hot tube?” He offered you a smile. Pedro was so easy to deal with, always trying to make you comfortable. “I have more of that nice whisky you like.”

You quickly put on your bikini in your room and head back to Pedro’s cabin. You could hear the happy hour turning into a party on the back, as you joined him inside the tub. You did your best to not stare at his toned, tanned body. He was smoking a cigar and handed you a glass.

“You know what’s funny”, he started, you already knew you wouldn’t find it funny at all. “This is the second time I see you in a tub.”

“Well, fuck you very much sir”, you held a serious face before letting a smile scape. “That was traumatic.”

“Why is that? I would say you made quite an impression”, he laughed, something different sparkling in his eyes. “Would it bother you if I said I still think about it?”

You felt your body hot, as if the water was on boiling point.

“God”, you whispered. He never took his eyes off yours. “I don’t know what to say, Pedro.”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart”, he replied, coming a little closer. You got chills all over your body. “Honestly, I don’t know if you only see me as this friendly, older, disgusting man—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you cut him before he could finish. “Feel free to think about whatever you like.”

“Good”, he said quietly, his body even closer, but still not touching yours. “Tell me what you were doing on the tub that day, sweetheart.”

“I-I was, uh,” you felt like you were about to explode, your brain trying to process if this was really happening. “I was touching myself.”

“Finally, princesa”, he let out a deep breath against your neck. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to hear you say this, to be sure my memory wasn’t fucking with me.”

He touched your waist with his hand, putting the cigar away with the other one. You felt delirious.

“What are you going to do now that you know?” The question popped out of your mouth.

He grabbed your arm to move your body, making you sit on his lap. Face to face. He was hard as fuck.

“I will take you back to your cabin, give you a goodnight kiss…” He made a pause. His stare was deep down your soul. “Come back to mine and think ‘bout you while I mind my own business.”

He was dead serious.

“I’m too horny to go to sleep”, you cried to him, all your blood concentrated between your legs. You moved on his lap, rubbing against his cook.

“Trust me”, he said as his hands firmly held your hips down, making you stop and yet feel him ever harder. “I feel the same way.”

He gave you a little forehead kiss.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

CHAPTER 4 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86​ (edit: i’m not sure why i wasn’t able to tag everybody i’m trying my best here)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

[bit-dodgy-innit]

The Magic Touch

Summary: Jake likes to take care of his wife who takes such good care of their newborn daughter. Set in THE SHAPE OF YOU verse 

Pairing: Jake x afab!Reader, with some minor Steven x afab!Reader and implied Marc x afab!Reader. Reader is married to the system and all three alters are no longer working for Khonshu

Rating: Tré Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.8k 

TW/CW: Heavy breast and nipple play, lactation kink, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, softdom!Jake, use of the term Papi, a smidge of spanking, mirror sex/exhibitionism between alters (?), cumshot, mentions of smoking and light bickering between a married couple. Also Reader & Jake speak a decent amount of Spanish/Spanglish with each other, translations for everything will be at the bottom of the fic!

A/N:...this fic could also be titled “A Return to Filth”. Honestly y’all some of the stuff in here surprised ME 😳 That being said, THANK SO EFFING MUCH to everyone who asked to be tagged in this and the just constant, unexpected stream of support and praise I’ve received since I posed the Shape of You!! 

“Look who’s up late,” Jake remarked, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with your infant daughter in your arms. 

“Someone does not want to sleep tonight,” you replied wearily. The sight of your husband was a relief for your tired eyes. You had barely gotten in a nap today and Nyla had been giving you trouble since sunrise. “How was the gig?”

“Bueno,” he shrugged, taking off his gloves and flat cap. “You know how those rich, fancy fucks are.”

An ambassador and his wife had hired Jake’s company to chauffeur them to and from a state dinner at Buckingham Palace that evening, the reason why he was now just coming in at 2:36 in the morning. 

As ghastly as the aristocrats were, they had the potential to be big clients. Like a down payment on a bigger place clients, so he’d insisted on doing the job himself, instead of sending a driver from his roster. 

Ever since Nyla was born, Jake had taken on more of a managerial role in his limo company, relying on the network of employees he’d built after he and his alters split ways with Khonshu once and for all. But the ambassador was too valuable a client to lose on the first job, and Jake had always believed “if you want something done right, do it yourself.”

“Mmmm, good,” you replied. “Let’s hope they use you again.”

“Si mami,” Jake agreed. 

Nyla began fussing, and Jake wasted no time crossing over to where you and her were curled on the couch. You grimaced, “She’s been like this all day, Jake.” 

“Princesa,¿por qué le estás haciendo pasar un mal rato a tu madre?” he scooped your daughter out of your arms and looked at the infant as if she could respond. “Hm?”

“You’ll just make her more fussy,” you told him, your tone tinged with irritation.

“No, no lo haré,” he argued, “porque yo tengo el toque mágico con ella.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Oh, how times had changed. In the past, if Jake had come home late and murmured in Spanish to you about having “the magic touch”, you both would be up until sunrise fucking. Now you feared it would just make your overtired baby more grumpy. 

Jake paced around the flat, cooing to Nyla in Spanish, and lo and behold, he did get her to settle down. Perhaps he did have el toque mágico after all. He cocked his head toward Nyla’s nursery, silently communicating that he’d put her in her crib. You nodded, beginning to doze off yourself. 

Jake had been uneasy at first around his newborn. It made sense, so much of his existence had been blood and violence, and Nyla was the most precious, fragile being he’d ever known. Yet the nerves melted into his trademark, indefatigable confidence soon enough, you didn’t even need to have a pep talk with him like you did with Marc for Jake to come around. Nyla was his princesa, and you had no doubt that he’d do anything for his little girl just like her other two dads. Although, you guessed Jake’s “anything” was a lot more gruesome than most. 

Your husband tiptoed out of the nursery back to where you had slumped into the couch. 

“Gracias,” you thanked him, your eyes weighted with exhaustion. He padded over to you. “I forgot how good you looked in uniform.”

Personally, Jake hated the monkey suit high-profile clients required him to wear – that had been one of the perks of working for Khonshu, at least the old bird let him wear street clothes on the job – but if you were into it, he’d make the most of it. “¿Te gusta?” 

“Mmmm, si,” you whispered just before your lips met. Jake kissed you gently, as if he was trying to absorb your tiredness and stress. 

“How can Papi make you feel better?” he murmured into the skin of your neck. “Mi esposita cuida tan bien de nuestro bebé, quiero cuidarla bien.”

“Jake,” you sighed as he dropped his kisses to your clavicle, just above where you both knew you wanted his mouth. 

“You want Papi to suck on your tetas?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Play with ‘em just how you like it?”

You assented with a whine and emphatic nod of your head. Jake reconnected your lips while you unhooked the cups of your nursing bra, your shirt followed moments later. 

Jake’s eyes darkened in the low lamplight of your living room, his dilated pupils turning his irises black and sending a shiver down your spine. He pressed kisses into the tops of each of your full breasts, then drew a line in the valley of your tits with the tip of his nose. His ministrations made your nipples harden. 

“Mmm, nice and ready for me,” he laughed lowly before bringing his mouth to one of your peaks. 

It had been an hour or so since you’d fed Nyla, so it took a few pulls of Jake’s mouth before any liquid landed on his tongue. Even so, his warm, wet touch felt wonderful around your sensitive bud. A little cry of delight escaped you when your milk began to flow, the vibrations of your husband’s satisfied groan only amplifying your pleasure. 

Jake’s hand snaked its way to your other tit. He paused his worship to wet his thumb, then brought the digit to your unoccupied breast and began tracing the circumference of your nipple. Soon you were leaking from that teat as well, an undeniable slickness pooling between your folds while Jake stimulated you exactly how you craved. 

“Jake,” you moaned, twining your fingers into his hair then tugging to angle his head up and get his attention. “Bed.”

Another deep groan resonated from your husband’s chest. “You tired?”

Well, yes, you’d been tired since Nyla took her first breath. Before that actually, maybe month six of your pregnancy when your bump really started to grow? Tired was neither here nor there. You wanted to be taken care of. “Want Papi’s cock.”

Jake flashed you a shark-like grin. “Vamos,” he said before throwing you over his shoulder. 

“Jake!!” you reprimanded him in the harshest whisper you could make without waking Nyla. 

Your husband ignored you, opting to lay you out on the mattress and pull off your incredibly sexy yoga pants. Before you could fidget and try to cover your postpartum body, Jake descended on you. 

“I think this other titty needs some love while I get you ready for Papi’s cock, nena,” he murmured before he dove back into your chest. 

Your breath hitched at the return of his lips on your boob. He didn’t hold back, vigorously suckling at your peak, flooding his mouth with your milk. Jake being so unashamedly into this made you feel better about this unlikely kink of yours. Maybe you and Steven weren’t complete freaks. 

The mix of suction and relief was the most intoxicating combination while Jake lapped at your nipple, alternating his attention between tugs with his lips and drawing stripes with flicks of his tongue. 

Meanwhile, he tucked a hand between your legs and began toying with your pussy. He ran his index finger between your folds to part them, then quickly transitioned to using the digits to draw tights circles into your clit. You mewled and Jake pulled off your breast to swallow your noises with his mouth. You two were having too much fun to be interrupted by Nyla. 

“Silencio, cariño,” he punctuated his reminder by sliding a finger into your cunt. 

“Nnngh,” you grunted, biting your lip to keep the sound from spilling out, “Easy for you to say.” 

He winked at you, a gesture that should’ve been infuriating but instead just made you wetter. Jake worked another digit into your pussy while he returned to your bosom, latching onto a peak once again and greedily drinking down everything you had to offer. 

“¿Estas lista?” he asked you once his fingers were gliding in and out of your core smoothly. 

“Please Papi,” you gasped. Jake stood back up to shed his clothes. You couldn’t help that your own hand snuck down to rub your clit while you watched him undress, he’d worked you up so much. 

The last item of clothing to be discarded were Jake’s boxers. He shucked them off and then stood proudly before you, his hands resting on his wide hips, unabashedly displaying his leaking erection. 

“Look what you do to me, Señora Lockley,” he rasped, gripping and pumping himself a few times at the sight of you touching yourself. 

“Tan grande, amor,” you purred. 

He pounced on you at your words, maneuvering you onto your hands and knees. The position shouldn’t have come as much of a shock, it was Jake’s favorite, but you hadn’t been able to do it since early in your second trimester. An extra spark of desire zinged through you at the thought of returning to it. 

Your husband guided his cock inside of you, taking it mercifully slowly, since he too knew how long it’d been since he’d been able to fuck you from behind. This wasn’t the first time you’d had penetrative sex since having Nyla, but the initial tenderness was still necessary in your postpartum state. The gentle start made you love Jake even more since he was the king of the rough fuck, which normally, you thoroughly enjoyed. 

Once he’d bottomed out and checked on you again, Jake began moving. You’d forgotten how full your husband’s thick dick felt like this. The swaying of your dribbling tits just added another delicious layer of dirtiness to your lovemaking. 

Jake knew he could pick up the pace of his thrusts when he felt you pushing back onto his cock. He angled you juuuust so and then unleashed the full force of his hips, fucking you so hard you were nearly knocked down onto your elbows. 

You pussy tightened around the hot, hard rod inside of you and keened, “Fuuuuck, Jake, that’s so good.” 

“Mmmm yeah,” Jake groaned. “Always take care of you, gonna fuck all the stress out of you.” 

You responded with a yip when your husband took hold of both of your hips to piston his cock into your tight channel even more relentlessly. 

“Ooooh yeah,” Jake continued to ramble in his sex-addled state, “such a pretty picture you’re making for me. I get to see your big, milky titties swing while you make these cheeks clap for me. Joder, sí, mami.”

Your husband’s filthy words made your cheeks burn and bite your lip as you continued to work your cunt back on his cock. He elicited a squeak from you when he smacked his hand across one of your ass cheeks, enjoying the way your flesh jiggled after he spanked you. 

“Steven thinks you look so sexy right now, isn’t that nice?” Jake remarked casually as if he was commenting on the weather and not railing you into next Tuesday. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you craned your neck from where it had been hanging between your shoulders. All of your attention had been consumed by Jake playing your body like a violin that you hadn’t noticed he’d positioned you in front of the mirror in your bedroom, but of course he did.

“Th-thank you, huh-honey,” you stuttered out, hoping Steven could hear while Jake continued to pound into you. 

The two of you made a thoroughly debauched scene. Your hair was mussed, your lips kiss-swollen and your full, engorged breasts moved in time with each drive of Jake’s length into your sopping cunt. 

You could just make out a little pearl of liquid on the tip of your left nipple, both of your puffy peaks still glistening from Jake’s mouth and your milk. Your reflection made you blush more deeply, and you could only imagine that Steven was absolutely losing his shit over the pornographic tableau you and his alter made. You’d have to let Steven try fucking you like this, if you made it out of this round of sex with Jake alive, that was. 

Jake withdrew his cock for a moment and next thing you knew, you were on your back again. He swiftly re-entered you, the hammering of his hips so strong it drove you back a few centimeters towards the pillows. Locking your legs around his torso, he dropped onto his forearms and brought his lips to your ear to entreat you, “Come on, let Papi have his leche dulce.” 

You complied with a whimper and a clench of your core, your hands coming to cup your tits and squeezing them so milk sprayed from your nipples into Jake’s open, eager mouth. A splash missed his tongue, landing on the corner where your husband’s lips met instead. His tongue quickly darted it out to lick it up and you almost came from the sight alone. 

You threw your head back into the blankets, unable to muffle your moans as Jake drove into you. 

“Does mamacita want to come?” he asked huskily. Your answer came in a strangled whine. 

He complied, replacing his cock with two of his fingers again and recaptured a nipple in your mouth. He stroked your walls, finding your g-spot with practiced ease while his thumb pressed into your clit. Your orgasm seized you in an eruption of pleasure, and thankfully you still had the wherewithal to grab a pillow and smash it into your face to muffle your cries of ecstasy as your husband worked through your blinding, white-hot release.

When your climax had crested and you managed to discard the pillow, you were greeted with the sight of Jake straddling your waist frantically jerking his cock over your tits. 

“Ohhh my, shit,” you panted, trying to urge him along, “unnngh, come for me, Papi.” 

Your plea pushed your husband over the edge, spurting his seed onto your tits barely a moment later. He peaked with a choked off gasp, needing to brace a hand on the bed frame so he didn’t collapse on top of you. 

The haze of lust slowly that had blanketed your mind slowly began to evaporate, and you looked down at the cooling cum splattered across your breasts. You glanced at Jake, who’d flopped onto the mattress next to you. “You’re nasty.”

“You love it,” he retorted without opening his eyes.  

“Hmm, I do,” you admitted. “Pero ahora tu esposita necesita una toalla.”

Jake grunted. His legs hadn’t steadied after coming his brains out just yet. 

“Rápido, por favor.” 

“Alright, alright,” Jake pushed himself upright and lumbered to the en-suite. “I worked all night, bien? Go easy on me.”

And you’d been with your baby all day. As much as you appreciated your husband providing for your family, you couldn’t muster the sympathy he’d hoped for. “Right, because none of that time was spent shooting the shit and smoking with the other drivers.”

“I quit,” he called from the loo. 

“I could taste it on you,” you shot back as he walked back into the bedroom. “Be happy I’m tired and you made me come too hard to properly give you shit about it.” 

“Mmm, you did come so hard for me nena, didn’t you?” Jake rasped, passing you a damp towel and climbing back on the bed. “Made me spurt all over your tetas.” 

Just him saying it caused a little aftershock of arousal to ripple through you. “Between you and Steven I have to make sure there's enough milk left for the baby.” 

Jake’s expression turned serious. “Oye, they were our titties first. We’re letting Nyla borrow them.” 

Before you could giggle like you wanted to, he kissed you again, licking into your mouth to prove something. “I had two drags of another driver’s cig. It was a social thing, a networking thing. I told you I’d quit when you got pregnant.”

“Good. Because A, it’s bad for you, and B, I get worried about Nyla and all the–”

“Yo sé, yo sé,” he tried to quell your rising concern. “It was stupid of me to do.”

You should’ve pressed him harder on it, but you were helpless to the way he kissed the top of your head and held you in his arms. Maybe times hadn’t changed as much as you thought, you were still letting Jake off the hook after a particularly toe-curling orgasm and whispered bilingual assurances. Which jogged your memory…

“How did you get her to go down, by the way?” you asked, the two of you slipping between the sheets. “What, did you use some residual Egyptian god magic?”

Jake laughed, an undignified snort. “No magic…aparte de mi toque mágico. Besides we don’t need Khonshu or any of them, we have each other, si?”   

“Si,” you concurred, snuggling into him. Jake may have a big mouth along with his toque mágico, but at least he knew the right thing to say most of the time and how to use those hands of his. 

Read the follow up fic: DROPPING IN

A/N: *clenched teeth emoji* hope everyone enjoyed! I’ll make the next fic softer and fluffier, I promise 🥴 Though I kind of adore the dynamic that emerged between the reader and Jake, they love each other deeply but also give each other shit in the same breath. 

Again, thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the encouragement and engagement with this series, my inbox is always open if you have request or thots! 

Taglist: @twwcs @rmoonstoner​ , @hot-mess-express1​ , @murdickdocked, @toracainz​ @saahmi​​, @unspokenmoon​​, @winterbiipp​ @avatarofseshat​​ @ilikeoldermenhelp , @losers-club6​​, @lovely-cryptid​ ​, @stormkobra-5​ @johnny-simpfinger​

Translations:

Bueno - Good

Si mami - Yes mommy

Princesa, ¿por qué le estás haciendo pasar un mal rato a tu madre? - Princess, why are you giving your mother a hard time? 

No, no lo haré...porque yo tengo el toque mágico con ella - No, I will not...because I have the magic touch with her

Gracias - Thank you

Te gusta - You like it? 

Mi esposita cuida tan bien de nuestro bebé, quiero cuidarla bien - My little wife takes such good care of our baby, I want to take good care of her. 

tetas - tits 

Vamos - Let’s go

nena - baby/babe  

Silencio, cariño - Quiet, honey 

¿Estas lista? - Are you ready?

Tan grande, amor - so big, love 

Joder, sí, mami - Fuck yeah, mommy 

leche dulce - sweet milk 

Pero ahora tu esposita necesita una toalla - But now your little wife needs a towel. 

Rápido por favor - Quickly please 

Bien - Okay

Oye - Here 

Yo sé - I know 

aparte de mi toque mágico - other than my magic touch 

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley #jake lockley x female!reader #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x female reader #jake lockley fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female reader #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfic #Oscar Isaac thirst hours #jake lockley speaking spanish

[forever-rogue]

Hi!

This idea just wont leave my head : reader strongly dislikes physical touch from anyone but Steve and, being the idiot he is, steve is completely oblivious to it. When the rest of the group tells him he doesn't believe them so they make up some master plan to prove him wrong. Basically #idiotsinlove

If you feel like writing that, itd be awesome. Have a lovely day <3

AN | Idiots in love? Blind fools in love? I’m in love! 🥰

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Spice 

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you ever going to ask her out?” Robin’s sudden appearance startled him as he stared off into the distance. If you hadn’t been paying you might have thought he was zoned out, but in reality he had been staring at you the entire time. He was beyond grateful that he’d remembered his sunglasses. He’d been so enthralled by you that he hadn’t even heard Robin open the passenger door. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, pointedly ignoring her question, “you could have tapped on the window first or something!”

“You could have been paying attention,” she threw her backpack in the back seat as he rolled his eyes at her behind the dark lenses of his Raybans, “don’t ignore my question, Steve!”

“Ask who out?”

“Don’t be so stupid,” she hit his arm as he started the car, casting you a last longing little glance before pulling away. Robin sweetly sang your name, and a dark flush of pink rose up in his cheeks, “you’re whipped for her. And she likes you too! So why not make a move?”

“She doesn’t - ugh, no. I didn’t think you could get so stupid,” he reached over and flicked her nose, causing her to grumble at him. The idea that you could like him even a fraction of how much he liked you was enough to cause his heart to constrict with nerves, “w-wait though…why do you think she likes me?”

“It’s not just me dingus,” she sat back and watched him closely, a little smirk on her face, “it’s all of us. I think it’s just you too that are blind. Like…idiots in love, basically. Besides, she has a huge tell.”

“Tell?”

“Yeah, how we know she likes you,” she was enjoying watching him squirm as he tried to keep his cool. She could tell he was spiraling inside, “she likes touching you-”

“Excuse me?” he turned to her and almost veered the car off the road, causing her to grumble loudly.

“Mind out of the gutter, Steve! Not like that,” she sighed when he pulled into the parking lot of Family Video. At least she wasn’t alone on her shift today; she had her best friend working with her. And she was going to make him confess his feelings if it was the last thing she did, “she…she’s not a physically affectionate person. You know…like Eddie - he’s always touching someone and he’s just more…openly affectionate I guess? But she’s like the exact opposite.”

“But she’s always hugged me or…”

“Exactly,” she nodded happily, “her tell! She won’t let any of us touch her but you. Only you. Are you putting two and two together?”

“I…” he turned the car off and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, “I think you’re all seeing things where you want to. I mean, I wish it was true - and there, now you can say made me admit I like her - but it’s not true. It’s wishful thinking.”

“I’m not wrong,” she insisted, refusing to give into his pessimism, “not all of us are wrong. You’ll see - we’ll get you to see that it’s true. Or you could just go and ask her out.”

“Not happening.”

“Well then, Harrington, it’s on.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Movie night always proved to be…chaotic. Chaotic in a good way, but what else could be expected when a bunch of teenagers, an empty house, and too much pizza and soda were involved? You were running a little late, your last tutoring gig having run longer than anticipated, but you came with a ton of cookies to make up for it. 

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you waited for Steve, or anybody, to answer the door once you’d rung the bell. The idea of seeing Steve always put butterflies in your tummy, despite the fact that you’d known him and been his friend for years. That sweet, dopey dork had a hold on you that was palpable. The door slowly opened and you found Dustin grinned excitedly.

“Hey bud,” you walked inside and kicked off your shoes as you handed him the container of cookies, “sorry I’m late - took forever today!”

“It’s okay,” he insisted as he set the box down and came back over, hesitating for just a moment before throwing his arms around you in a tight hug, “just so glad you’re here!”

“O-oh,” it took you a moment to react, but you gently and tentatively put your arms around him a light hug in return, “I’m glad to see you guys. Especially after this hellish week.”

“Hi!” Max darted over and almost knocked you down in her attempt to hug. You sighed lightly before wrapping an arm around her slim shoulders, “I’m glad you’re here. All these boys suck.”

“Hey!” Robin glowered from her spot on the couch before making her way over. You smiled at your friend and she managed to take you by surprise as she pressed kisses to your cheeks. What was with everyone today? They were all being so…weird, “missed you.”

“I saw you earlier,” you snorted as you raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “we have most of our classes together…”

“Still,” she insisted, dragging you into the living room where everyone was gathering with pizza, “it’s always better with you around.”

“Exactly,” Lucas hugged your legs from his spot on the floor and you just sighed lightly, “now the party can get started.”

“Should I be worried?” you looked around at the eager faces of your friends, “you’re all acting weird. Weirder than normal…and that’s saying a lot.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he looked at you sweetly with those big brown eyes of his. You knew Eddie better than almost anyone else and now you knew something was up. 

“Did you give them all laced blunts or something?” you sighed as he just shook his head in amusement before giggling happily. You heard your name whispered softly as you turned around to find Steve standing at the bottom of the stairs, a collection of blankets in his arms. Your expression softened as he grinned at you, “hi Stevie!”

Robin exchanged a sneaky little glance with Eddie as the two of them silently mouthed Stevie! at each other. Steve swallowed thickly before handing the blankets over to Dustin who just happened to appear at his side with perfect timing. His heart was practically hammering against his chest as he contemplated his next actions. His plan had been to hug you, to see if Robin’s theory had been right, but he found himself frozen. You tilted your head to the side, giving him that smile that made him weak in the knees, “h-hi.”

“Okay weirdo,” you reached up and touched his cheek before affectionately ruffing his glorious mop of hair. Steve was biting the inside of cheek so hard that it was a miracle that he wasn’t bleeding. Robin caught his eye from over your shoulder and gave him a little shrug as if to say told you so. But you…you’d always been like that with him. So openly affectionate and gentle and oh. Oh. He’d been so blinded with his own affection for you that he hadn’t noticed yours, “not you too! You’re all acting so weird. Are we gonna  do movie night or are you all going to continue acting like this?”

“Movie!” Eddie shouted happily as Dustin tossed blankets around for everyone to get comfortable. You watched as Steve took his customary spot on the big couch, on the far end, grabbing one of the big blankets and looking at you, silently asking if you were coming. It was normal for you to be next to him, normal for you to be tucked into his side, normal for him to put his arm around as you laid your head on his chest. Oh. 

What was normal for the two of you…wasn’t normal for everyone. Not for people that were just friends. At the realization, your cheeks warmed up and you slowly made your way to him, almost flopping down as he tossed the blanket over both of you. You wondered if…maybe he felt the same way as you. You’d always thought you’d hidden your affection and sweetness for him well enough but now you were…absolutely questioning that. 

Without even thinking about it, Steve pulled you into his side and his long arm wrapped around you. Only this time, you didn’t lay your head on his chest or on his shoulder, but your gaze was concentrated on him. 

Lucas flipped off the lights as Eddie started the movie, casting the room into darkness save for the light of the television. You hadn’t even noticed what movie was playing, instead so hyper-aware and focused on Steve. You’d never been more aware of his closeness, of how his body felt next to yours. Suddenly it seemed like every time you had touched him had been taken for granted. 

“Hey,” he leaned and whispered so long you could hear him, “is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, giving him an unconvincing little smile, “just…tired.”

“Oh,” he almost sounded disappointed, but you could tell that he didn’t believe you, “okay.”

Despite your hesitation, you forced yourself to push through, to see if perhaps you could take it a little further. You slung your arm over his midsection before cuddling into his side and practically squishing your face into his chest. You could feel his sharp inhale before he slowly let it back out and he relaxed. Neither of you said anything for some time, sitting there comfortably tangled up, but unable to focus on the movie. 

After what seemed like a small eternity, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You untangled yourself from Steve, sitting back on legs so you were facing him. His mouth opened in surprise for a moment, but when he noticed you studying him so intently, he grew nervous. 

“C-can we go upstairs?” his heart almost dropped into his stomach at your words as his mind immediately started reeling with the possibilities. His mouth felt dry so he just nodded instead, not trusting himself to speak. You quietly climbed off the couch and padded towards the stairs with Steve following closely behind. You didn’t even look back or stop until you were at his door, letting yourself into his room. 

There was something so familiar and comforting about his room; you’d been in here hundreds of times before but something about this moment felt so different. You sat down on his bed as he closed the door and leaned against it. You were looking at each other, both of you unable to look away. 

“Stevie?” your gaze had shifted to your feet as you played with a loose thread on his blanket. He made a small sound of acknowledgement but didn’t push you any further, “why were they all acting so weird tonight? Is there something going on?”

“Whaddya mean?” he stuffed his hands into his pockets as you looked up and tutted at him.

“You know what I mean,” you sighed lightly, “they were all huggy and touchy. It’s not…I like touch, you know, but on my terms. It’s just…I dunno, I’ve always been that way. But…with you, i-it’s different. I don't know…I like when you…t-touch me."

There was a bemused little smile on his face as he waited for you to realize your mistake. When you did, your hands went to your face as your entire body felt like it was on fire, "fuck - Stevie, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that I-I just…I like being close to you."

"I know what you meant," he moved from the door and came closer to you, tentatively and slowly to make sure he wasn't crossing any unspoken boundaries. When you didn't stop him, he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before he set his hand down on the bed next to yours, and you could feel his pinky brushing against yours.

"Steve-"

"Robin is convinced that you like me," he cut you off but had to do it because he wasn't sure if he'd get the courage to say it again, "she says you have this tell - that you don't like touching anyone else but me."

"Steve."

"She wanted to test her dumb theory and that's why everyone was so lovey dovey touchy feely today," he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, "and I realize now that's a fucked up thing to do and probably made you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let them do it."

"It's okay," you smiled softly, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering around wildly. Robin knew - she had known. Which means that everyone else probably did too, "I thought they were being extra weird."

"Unfortunately."

"What was your conclusion?"

"I - ugh - what?"

"Your conclusion," you moved your hand ever so slightly closer to his and nudged his foot with yours, "what did you learn? About Robin's little theory."

"I…" he inhaled and trailed off, turning his head lightly towards you, "well…I-I think she was right."

"Oh,” it was a soft little sound that caused him to panic and spiral almost immediately. Oh. It could have meant a hundred different things but your expression was giving away nothing. Meanwhile you were trying not to panic out of sheer excitement because holy fuck - that meant Steve did like you. Or at least…probably did. Shit. Were you reading into this too much now? You allowed yourself a small glance at him and realized he’d been staring at you this entire time. 

You shifted so you were fully sitting on his bed, cross-legged as you waited to see who would break the tension. He nervously rubbed his palms on his thighs before letting out a small, nervous laugh, “oh.”

“Steve,” you put your hand on his arm, willing him to look at you, but all he did was stare at the floor, “Stevie.”

He turned at the sound of his nickname, his big, soft brown eyes meeting yours. You could tell there was a nervous little hope behind them. He’d never let anyone else call him Stevie. It had always irked and irritated him but when you said it? It practically made him weak in the knees. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, he moved so his position was mirroring yours. 

You felt so vulnerable and open with him, but you never once felt scared or nervous. He always made you feel safe - protected. In a blur and without letting yourself overthink for one, you put your hand on his cheek and surged forward to kiss him. He made a small sound of surprise, taken aback by your sudden boldness, but quickly kissed you right back. It was messy at first, clumsy and awkward and your teeth clicked together a few times, but you soon found a rhythm that was both needy and saccharine. 

He pulled and you pushed your way onto his lap, and he settled his hands on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. When he had thoroughly kissed you until you were both breathless, he pulled back and you both exchanged a nervous little laugh. 

“So ‘oh’ was a good thing then?” he asked sweetly as he cupped your face in his warm, large hand before stroking your cheek.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling warm from his touch, “it was.”

“Fuck me,” his groan was playful as he pressed his forehead against yours before you kissed him again. He tasted of salty popcorn, sweet cookies, and faint mint. You liked it - you liked him. You really like kissing him; you’d imagined this moment at least a million times and this still felt better than anything you could have ever dreamed up, “Robin is never going to let me live it down once she realizes she was right.”

“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing,” you whispered, leaning in so your lips were brushing against his, “maybe it’s the little push we finally needed.” 

“I would have said…something a long time again if I had any idea that you’d feel even remotely the same,” he admitted as a wicked blush rose up in his cheeks. You pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. Those soft, big doe eyes make him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning out loud.

“What do you mean?” you whispered, “did you not think I liked you? Steve, I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Y-you..love me?”

“Oh, ahh, shit,” you scratched the back of your neck nervously, pulling back from him for just a moment, “I-I didn’t mean it how it sounded. It’s just that…I like you a lot and it’s-”

“I love you,” his hands found your face as he pulled you back down to his lips. This time he kissed you slowly, pouring every little bit of love, every unspoken word into the kiss, hoping you were able to feel it. You were, “have for a long time.”

“Oh Steve,” this time it was your turn to kiss him, and the two of you were quickly lost in each other and one thing led to another as you ended up under him, beaming up at him happily. He leaned down and you brushed some of the soft locks of hair out of his face, and he couldn’t stop from kissing you again, “Steve.”

“Hey!” Robin knocked loudly on his door and you could hear Eddie giggling along with her, “movie’s over and ugh…we’re gonna continue this at the Wheelers’ so you guys have some…privacy.”

“Unless you’re already having sex!” oh Eddie.

“Good,” Steve groaned lightly as you just smiled at him, “now go!”

“Steve?” Robin’s voice was sticky sweet and you both already knew what was coming, “I told you so.”

“Goodbye!” Steve buried his face into the crook of your shoulder as you just laughed, “our friends are the worst.”

“Sometimes,” you agreed, “but right now, I’m kind of thankful for them. So, tell me Stevie…do you want to have sex?”

“I...fuck,” he closed his and let out a wistful little moan, “yeah, I really do.”

“Good,” you whispered, “me too. But also - I love you.”

“I love you.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #st

[venus-haze]

Working for the Knife (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the Windsor College murders, not that they had ever been on your radar. That changes when you get hired at a New York marketing firm where you work closely with Mickey Altieri, alleged Ghostface killer whose charges were dropped after a controversial mistrial. Working so closely together piques your interest in each other, soon spiraling out of control. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader implied to be mid-20s or older, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also Timothy Olyphant being such a DILF, I had to write something like this (I had Justified era Olyphant in mind while writing this, specifically these gifsets, but you can picture whatever hehe). Creative liberties have obviously been taken. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: True crime elements (the reader engages with a lot of true crime content), but obviously this is a fictional serial killer. Mutual stalking/obsession. Sexually explicit content that includes dubious consent fantasy that involves knifeplay; spanking, daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

For once, you felt like things were going your way. After a little over three years of scraping by at your old job where you were woefully overworked and underpaid, your months-long job search finally came to an end when a mid-sized marketing firm gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Sure, you’d taken a huge pay raise and shifted to a hybrid schedule with your new job, but the highlight was undoubtedly Mickey, the only other person on your small team and the type of sexy older man you sure as hell didn’t mind spending your days in the office with.

With the whole company working hybrid or completely remote, people only came in sporadically, as did you and Mickey, only going in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the occasional Friday if needed. As a result, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet anyone else who worked there. 

Your first week was fully in person, since some of the programs you’d be using for the job were easier to learn if he were there to show you. You certainly weren’t complaining, having plenty of time to get a feel for your new coworker, silently observing and testing the waters with light flirting, which he seemed to return. Maybe you were just a little too hopeful.

“Big plans for the weekend?” you asked when five o’clock rolled around on Friday.

“Got a hot date with Netflix,” he said. “How about you?”

“My friend and I are getting drinks later, but that’s about it.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Anything under $10, if I can help it.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Don’t have too much fun.”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you began packing your laptop into your bag. “Have a good weekend, Mickey.”

“You too.”

With your first week at your new gig down, you headed to a small bar in Flatbush to celebrate with your best friend and dish the highly anticipated dirt on your hot coworker. Lee was already at the bar when you’d arrived, sitting at a small table and sipping a beer she went ahead and bought herself.

“Drinks are on me,” you said. “I fucking owe you.”

Lee grinned. “Always glad to help.”

You wouldn’t have gotten the job without Lee. She helped you fudge your resume to match the experience on the job listing, gently scamming your way into the position you now held. All week you’d been texting her about how great things were going, and fawning over Mickey, of course.

After joking about ordering top-shelf liquor on your dime, Lee settled on a margarita, undoubtedly the first of many for the night. You returned from the bar with your drinks, more than ready to gush about how much better your new job was compared to the hell of your old one. Nothing could bring down your mood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they pay you out the ass and you don’t have to worry about health insurance anymore. Great,” Lee said over her margarita. “I wanna hear about your hot DILF coworker. No detail is too small.”

“Lee, oh my god, it’s not even fair how hot he is. Our desks are right next to each other in an L shape, and I feel like such a weirdo for staring at him all the time. He’s been so nice helping me all week, too. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but sometimes I feel like he’s being a little flirty?”

“Is he married?”

“No ring, and no mention of any family or long-term relationship. I don’t get it, how could Mickey be single?”

“You don’t hear many people going by Mickey anymore,” she said. “Either he’s a mouse or incredibly Irish.”

“I think he’s Italian,” you mused. “Altieri sounds Italian to me.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, was that offensive?”

“No, just that you’re working with an alleged serial killer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, but she was already busy typing away at her phone.

Suddenly, Lee’s phone was shoved in your face, a your hot coworker’s mugshot front and center in an archived New York Times article from October 1998.

SUSPECT ARRESTED IN WINDSOR COLLEGE KILLINGS

Michael ‘Mickey’ Altieri, 21, was arrested early Thursday morning in Windsor, Ohio, as the primary suspect in the Windsor College killings. Among the charges are first degree murder, attempted first degree murder and aggravated assault. Altieri has maintained his innocence and is being held on $1,000,000 bail in Windsor County Jail as he awaits trial. 

The brutal killings that made national headlines were directly inspired by the ‘Ghostface’ murders in Woodsboro, California, two years prior and coincided with the release of STAB, a film based on Woodsboro survivor and reporter Gale Weathers’ book on the murders. Survivor Sidney Prescott was a student at Windsor College and targeted yet again in the latest string of murders. Allegedly, Altieri’s accomplice was Debbie Loomis, mother of one of the two original Ghostface killers, Billy Loomis. Mrs. Loomis was killed in an altercation prior to Altieri’s apprehension by police.

You looked away from her phone screen, feeling like your head was spinning though you weren’t even finished with your first drink. “Well, if he did all that stuff, why isn’t he on death row or something?”

“There was a mistrial. It was a huge thing,” Lee said. “You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

“No. Can you send that to me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll send some podcast episodes and Youtube videos on it, too. You know I’m on that true crime shit.”

It took a few more drinks for you to be able to shake off the thought of your hot older coworker potentially being a serial killer, but the rest of your night with Lee was a lot of fun. She’d been one of your closest friends in college, and the two of you lived together when you first moved to New York. You knew she meant well, but damn, did that news put a damper on things.

You returned to your apartment a little after midnight, kicking off your heels at the door and collapsing on your couch, not bothering to make the short walk to your bedroom. 17 missed texts from Lee, all links to videos and podcasts about Mickey that she recommended.

Among the links Lee had sent you was a nearly hour long Youtube video titled: ‘What Happened at the Windsor College Ghostface Trial? A Deep Dive’. The woman in the thumbnail had a scared expression on her face, her eyes focused on that same mugshot of Mickey you saw in the old New York Times article. 

Pressing on the link in your messages, you had the video come up on your TV instead, slouching back in your seat as it began to play.

‘I know most stuff about the Windsor College murders focus on just that, the murders, but I thought it’d be interesting to go into the trial that followed because it was almost like something out of a movie, but it doesn’t get as much attention as the killings, especially since there have been like two more Ghostface murder sprees since this happened. I’m just presenting facts and my own observations here for educational purposes, and it’s not my intention to imply guilt on anyone who hasn’t been convicted in a court of law. Before we get into it though, I wanna give a huge thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring today’s video—‘

You rolled your eyes, skipping through the three-minute long sponsorship spiel.

‘So my sources for this video are Gale Weathers’ books Wrongly Accused: The Maureen Prescott Murder, The Woodsboro Murders, and College Terror. I also used James Chase’s book Ghostface on Trial, articles from newspapers and a few like lawyer journals that I was able to find online, and whatever stuff from the trial itself that’s public information. I have it all linked in the description—“

Pausing the video, you pulled up the New York Public Library website and searched for College Terror and Ghostface on Trial. Copies of both were available at the branch near your office, and you wasted no time in putting a hold on the books. 

The next few minutes of the video gave an overview of the murders at Windsor College, which you half-paid attention to. You’d watched Stab 2 in high school, so you felt you were familiar enough with the killings. Thinking back on the movie, though, all of the characters had the same names as their real-life counterparts except for Mickey. Legal reasons, you assumed.

You turned up the volume on your TV as the video finally got into the details of the trial.

‘As soon as Mickey was arrested, theories were all over the news about what had happened and there was a ton of speculation about his guilt. James Chase, a controversial defense attorney from Chicago, took on the case pro-bono, stating in his book Ghostface on Trial that he knew he stood to make more money on a book deal, interviews, and speaking engagements by winning the case than whatever fees he’d get for representing Mickey. The defense focused on discrediting both of the prosecution’s star witnesses early on in the trial, planting seeds of doubt in the jury.

Chase and his team leaned heavily on the fact that three years prior, Sidney Prescott had incorrectly identified Cotton Weary as her mother’s killer when in fact it was Sidney’s former boyfriend Billy Loomis and their mutual friend Stu Macher who had committed that initial murder that led up to the original Woodsboro Ghostface murders. 

Gale Weathers’ testimony was also discounted by the defense on the fact that she was a sensationalistic tabloid journalist who’d admittedly fabricated elements of her best-selling book on the Woodsboro killings. She claimed this was a result of editing and to achieve a better narrative flow. 

The defense also said the deceased Debbie Loomis had more of a reason to go after Sidney and recreate her son’s Ghostface murders as revenge for his death. They pushed the idea that she acted with Sidney’s boyfriend, Derek, and that Mickey ended up getting caught in the crosshairs of what was a gruesome and unfortunate situation. Sidney maintained Derek’s innocence, but the fact that both he and Debbie were killed by gunshot wounds made it likely they were the Ghostface duo this time around.

Former Woodsboro Deputy Dewey Riley, another survivor of both Ghostface killings, was unable to testify because he was in a coma. He later said that because he was incapacitated before Sidney and Gale allegedly confronted Debbie and Mickey, he couldn’t say for sure who the killer or killers were, but he trusted their judgment and stood behind their testimonies. 

It didn’t help either that Sidney was visibly distraught while on the stand and mixed up details of the original Woodsboro murders and the Windsor College ones. Gale was initially confident while being questioned by the defense, but later became combative when the inaccuracies in her books came up. In contrast, Mickey appeared calm and earnest, and seemed to have his story straight every time he took the stand.

There’s actually some footage of the trial that I was able to find, so I’m gonna play that now.’

The video was grainy, camera focused on an agitated-looking Sidney Prescott sitting in the witness stand. On the other side of the stand, a blond man in a gray suit read off from a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Ms. Prescott, in your statement to police, you claimed that Mr. Altieri admitted to both you and Ms. Weathers that he had committed the murders with Debbie Loomis and wanted to get caught. Could you perhaps explain to myself and the jury, why exactly an alleged killer would want to get caught?”

“Because he’s fucking sick in the head!” Sidney exclaimed.

“Language, Ms. Prescott,” Judge Matthews said.

“He said he did it on purpose,” Sidney continued, her voice breaking. “He told us he wanted to get caught so he could blame it on the movies! He had everything planned out, the lawyers he wanted, the angle the media would take, he even quoted that line from Psycho, ‘We all go a little mad sometimes.’”

Chase furrowed his brow as he looked over the papers in his hands. “When did he say this? I’m not seeing that in your statement.”

“He said it right after he shot Randy,“ Sidney said.

“Randy wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.” 

Sidney’s eyes widened. “I know. I meant—“

“Ms. Prescott, is there something you didn’t include in your police statement that you’re telling us now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Billy quoted Psycho, after he shot Randy at Stu Macher’s house, not Mickey. I got mixed up.”

You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. The courtroom on your screen devolved into nothing short of pandemonium. The video then faded into Gale Weathers in the middle of being questioned by the defense. She, in contrast to Sidney, looked confident and well-put together under Chase’s grilling.

“Ms. Weathers, you wrote in your book that your camera man Kenny was gutted, when in actuality his throat was slashed, is that correct?”

Gale nodded. “It is.”

“Why the inconsistency?” 

“All books, fiction or nonfiction go through an editing process. That was a decision made by my editor to establish a better narrative flow. It isn’t uncommon in the true crime genre by any means.”

“Better narrative flow isn’t the truth, though, is it?” Chase asked.

“Look, a book is a book. I’ll say right now under oath that Kenny was killed when one of those guys in the Ghostface costume slit his throat. I’ll also say under oath that Mickey Altieri did commit those murders with Debbie Loomis, and he confessed it to me and Sidney Prescott.”

“Your honor, this isn’t the only major inconsistency we’ve found in Ms. Weathers’ book on the Woodsboro murders. Yesterday we distributed to the prosecution and now present to the jury at least seventeen of these major inconsistencies.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m the cheesy tabloid journalist everyone thinks I am?”

The corners of Chase’s lips twitched. “Not quite my words.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gale scoffed.

The jury murmured among themselves at her shift in attitude. You found yourself chewing on your nail, enraptured by the trial. For the last time, the video faded out and then back in to show Mickey, your coworker, sitting on the witness stand. This time, the prosecutor was in front of him, his annoyed expression a contrast to Mickey’s calm demeanor.

“Mr. Altieri, we have signed affidavits from several of your former classmates that in your film theory class, you claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and CiCi Cooper, both of whom were killed by this ‘Ghostface’ persona of yours—“

“Objection!” Chase shouted. “Claiming the Ghostface persona belongs to Mr. Altieri is an undue presumption of guilt.”

“Sustained,” Judge Matthews said. “I advise you to reconsider your wording going forward, counselor.”

The prosecutor huffed. “You claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and Casey Cooper, both of whom were killed by the ‘Ghostface’ persona, that violent movies were responsible for influencing people to commit acts of violence, is that correct?”

“It was a classroom discussion. Our professor had brought it up because two fellow students were brutally killed at the premier of a slasher movie the night before, by someone dressed as the killer from that same slasher movie. I just thought it wasn’t a coincidence, and neither did half the other students in that class. Are you going to make them testify too?”

“Don’t deflect, Mr. Altieri.”

“I don’t understand how I’m deflecting. You asked me about a conversation I had with my classmates, and I answered.”

The video went back to the commentator, but you had goosebumps raised across your skin. You rewound back to the clip of Mickey’s testimony, staring at his face. Could he be a killer? Only a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even considered it. Now, you were down a rabbit hole that sent your mind reeling.

‘A lot of the prosecution’s evidence was dismissed as circumstantial by the defense. Mickey had alibis for all of the murders, even for the one Sidney claimed to witness him commit, allegedly shooting her boyfriend Derek. The chat room records and emails allegedly linked to Debbie and Mickey didn’t do much to convince the jury of Mickey’s alleged involvement in the murders. The records did positively identify Debbie based on the account’s password hints and her IP address. The other user was more tech savvy, changing IP addresses to make it more difficult to confirm an identity.

In move that was described as ‘sloppy’ and ‘desperate’ by the media following the trial’s conclusion, the prosecution also tried to claim that Mickey being the only other survivor among Sidney’s friends was suspicious and indicated his involvement, but the defense pointed out that Randy Meeks had also been the only other survivor of Sidney’s friend group in the original Woodsboro killings despite a gunshot wound like Mickey had, and later on at Windsor he was a victim. 

Randy Meeks’ murder actually played a huge role in the defense’s strategy. Several Windsor College students saw Mickey elsewhere on campus during Randy’s murder. The final nail in the coffin was when Windsor County police confirmed that DNA in the news van where Randy was murdered was a match for Debbie Loomis. The police retested other evidence, but couldn’t find anything conclusive.

After weeks of questioning and evidence, the jury deliberated for a little over five days before returning to the judge in a deadlock. Judge Matthews declared a mistrial, and less than a year later, a district court dismissed the case on lack of substantial evidence and all charges against Mickey Altieri were dropped. Despite media speculation that he would, Mickey chose not to sue Sidney and Gale for defamation and hasn’t been in the public eye since the controversial trial.’

You stared blankly at your TV screen when the video ended, another one auto-playing a few seconds later. Even after your drinks with Lee, you felt way too sober to even process any of it. For the next few hours, you devoured videos, bookmarked dozens of articles, and sifted through podcast episodes to listen to during work.

The odd case had made its home in the recesses of your mind. You dreamed about him when you finally fell asleep, just before sunrise. Sitting in the downtown Manhattan office, the open floor layout was unusually bright, fluorescent lighting washing the place in an eerie white glow. Mickey walked over to his desk, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering on the carpet in a trail leading right to him. He looked at you, a smile on his face as he brought his upright, bloody index finger to his lips. 

As the weekend flew by, you tried to keep yourself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t good for you to stay fixated on it, and certainly not fair to Mickey. 

Working from home on Monday helped, as you focused on finishing the last of the onboarding process. 

Tuesday was where things became tricky again. You sat on the forty-minute long subway ride to the office equipped with a podcast episode about your new coworker. The hosts didn’t seem to have much new information from what you took in the night before, except for the last few minutes of the episode where they’d gone off-script.

‘Last I saw online, he was living in Manhattan.’

‘Oh my god, that’s so Patrick Bateman-core.’

‘So you think he did it?’

‘It’s tough to say, like I totally get why the jury couldn’t come to a consensus.’

‘Yeah same, messy as hell. I tend to think that he didn’t do it. Innocent until proven guilty, ya know?’

‘I get that. We did try to get in touch with him for some kind of statement or even an interview—‘

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘Yeah, we looked for his email address, but I guess it wasn’t the right one because our message got bounced back, so that was a big fat bust.’

‘He’s like notorious for denying interview requests, anyway. I think he turned down book deals and stuff.’

Enraptured by the conversation, you nearly missed your stop. On the three block walk to your office, you hurriedly opened one of your playlists and put it on shuffle. The last thing you needed was for Mickey to somehow see on your home screen you’d just been listening to a podcast episode about him.

Your head was spinning by the time you got to your desk. He hadn’t arrived yet, and you felt a bit relieved that you had a little more time to psych yourself up. You shouldn’t have even had to do that in the first place, just be normal about your coworker, but if you learned anything over the weekend, even if he wasn’t guilty, he sure as hell wasn’t normal.

The elevator doors opened, and you looked up to see him walk out, waving at you.

“Morning, Y/N, have a good weekend?”

“Pretty good. I’m more broke than when it started, though. How about you?”

“Like I told you, hot date with Netflix,” he said, sitting down. “Thought you were sticking with shitty liquor?”

“I was, but my friend wasn’t. I got the tab, and she got plenty of margaritas.”

“Shit, I oughta get drinks with you sometime if you get all your friends’ tabs.”

You grinned. “Don’t count your luck.”

He chuckled to himself. The two of you worked in near silence for the next three hours, though you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, out of curiosity and also admiration. His graying hair suited him, and you could see the muscles in his arms from his casually rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Soon, though, you found it hard to stay awake, the light from your computer screen adding onto your fatigue. To your horror, you yawned loudly, catching Mickey’s attention.

“You alright? I’m not too boring, am I?”

“No, I just kept waking up last night. I feel like I barely slept.”

“Why don’t we take an early lunch and go get coffee?”

“That sounds great,” you said, grabbing your purse.

There was a deli right up the block, and when you looked at the small pastry case, you decided to order something with your coffee. Mickey placed his order, a hot coffee and a bear claw. With plenty of tables to choose from, you and Mickey sat near the window. 

Your coffee definitely hit the spot, and the sugar from your pastry helped wake you up too.

“How long’s your commute?” Mickey asked.

“About 40 minutes. I live in Brooklyn, kinda between Bushwick and Bed-Stuy.”

“Damn, that’s long. I live on the Upper West Side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. Before this job, I was barely able to afford to rent on my own.”

“It’s a rent-controlled building. I’m not making a ton after alimony and child support.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, though he looked out the window as he continued speaking. “It was a long time ago. Deanna and me just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff when our son was born. I knew before he even got to kindergarten it was over.”

Unsure of how to respond, you slowly reached across the table, putting your hand over his. “I’m sorry, Mickey, really.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before releasing it. “They live upstate, so I don’t see them much. I have more time for going to the movies and Mets games.”

“I only go when they’re bad because tickets are cheaper.”

He snickered. “I should take a page outta your book. How about you? Any sports? Or reading? Isn’t true crime pretty popular with young women now?”

Your heart pounded at his question. Innocuous enough. True crime was extremely popular. The paranoid part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. Then again, he couldn’t possibly know you’d spent the weekend immersing yourself in it, particularly stuff about him.

“I’m not really interested in that,” you said. “Sometimes my friends and I go to trivia nights at bars. I’m not that good, but it’s fun to just hang out. I have a membership at the MOMA, so I go there a lot. They show movies sometimes, too.”

To your relief, the conversation shifted to just that, and Mickey seemed surprised by some of your opinions on different movies. He told you he’d originally gone to college for film studies, which you already knew, of course. The odd thing was, while you certainly didn’t want him aware of just how much you knew about him, you didn’t feel guilty for it, just that he would be weirded out by it, obviously.

You and Mickey ended up talking about movies for nearly an hour and a half, well over your allotted hour lunch break, but he assured you no one would care that much. Still, the two of you half-ran back to the office, and something bubbled in your chest when he sat down and smiled at you, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. 

The rest of the workday went by quickly, and you headed to the library where you’d reserved the two books about the Windsor College murders and trial. By the time you got home, you’d already devoured the first two chapters of Gale Weathers’ book. Glad to be working remotely the following day, you let yourself stay up later than usual to read, getting to the halfway point before you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Weeks turned into months, and you absolutely loved your job, and the pay, but most of all, how the content you consumed and your proximity to Mickey seemed to feed into each other in a vicious cycle that increasingly drowned out the rational part of you that knew what you were doing was weird. 

Still, it wasn’t like you were invading his personal privacy or treating him any different than you did before. All of the information you’d read, listened to, or watched was all public as your running list of books, podcasts, and documentaries on the matter grew. You’d even rewatched the Stab movies and started scrolling through threads and tags related to Mickey and what happened at Windsor College. After all of the personal research you did and how much you’d gotten to know Mickey at work, you couldn’t conclusively say whether or not he did it. 

You tried keeping your obsession lowkey, but your friends seemed to notice how you’d shoehorn it into conversations. Lee had even told you she was afraid she’d created a monster by bringing up Mickey’s past in the first place. If she’d never made her comment or showed you that first article, you probably never would’ve known about it, remaining blissfully unaware and going about your business at your typical office job with your hot older coworker.

For how much time you spent at home between work and researching, it seemed like whenever you’d go out, you’d come home to something missing or moved. Articles of clothing gone, coffee mugs out of place, books not quite in the order you’d left them. At first, you chalked it up to your consuming too much true crime content, feeding into your paranoia, but when you asked your landlord to install another lock on your door, it all seemed to stop. That didn’t bode well with you.

Your fantasies blended with reality in your dreams, as you were having increasing occurrences of Ghostface or Mickey, or both, in them. Whenever you woke up, you didn’t remember much except for a warm feeling in your core. One dream remained vivid even after you awoke, though.

You were in your apartment alone, late at night, when you got a call from an unknown number. Normally, you didn’t pick up calls unless you were expecting them, but for some reason you picked up. The details of the phone call itself were jumbled, but you were frightened, running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you. 

To your horror, you’d locked yourself in with Ghostface, the looming predator who looked at you emotionlessly, stalking toward you with his knife. When you turned around, the door knob was gone, and a black gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, moving you to face him as he pushed you against the door. He sliced through your slinky pajama top, exposing your breasts to him. Roughly groping each of them, he let out a low moan in appreciation before bringing the knife to your collarbone, dragging the blade to the valley between your breasts. Your breath hitched as he pressed it a bit deeper, but instead, you felt it in your pussy, like he was penetrating you.

“Give me a kiss, sweetheart,” your masked assailant ordered in a distorted voice.

Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the cold, hard plastic mask. You gasped as he dug the knife into your skin with one hand, his other slipping under your panties, pushing his fingers between your folds.

“I own you,” he said, clearly in Mickey’s voice this time.

You threw your head back in ecstasy as he pushed his fingers into your tight cunt, and then your alarm blared, jolting you awake. Turning over, you groaned into your pillow in frustration. At least it ended up being great masturbation material later on.

Another Thursday at work, seemingly uneventful as usual. You and Mickey had gotten into the habit of getting lunch together whenever you both were in the office. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as time went on, they felt more like dates than just a casual lunch with a coworker. Not that you were complaining.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked in the nearby deli the two of you had begun to frequent.

“No, not really.”

“Do you wanna come over after work tomorrow? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“That’d be great!” you said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “Should I bring anything?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit. “I can order a pizza.”

For some reason, you trusted yourself to be normal at his place, telling yourself throughout Friday that everything would work out fine. Being a weirdo about his alleged murders certainly wouldn’t help you get a real date with him, but your infatuation with him was only growing. You liked the slightest hint of danger about him, going to his apartment alone, wondering in the back of your mind what his true intentions were and feeling a bit of a thrill at the prospect that they could be anything less than innocent.

You showed up at his apartment that evening with a bottle of wine in hand, even though he’d told you not to bring anything. As expected, he thanked you for the wine, though he gave you an exasperated look as he let you into his apartment. Nicer than yours, but it still looked lived-in.

“Pizza will be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’m thinking Mean Streets for the movie.”

“It’s a classic,” you agreed. “I love Harvey Keitel in it.”

“You know, that was De Niro and Scorsese’s first time working together.”

“Wait, why did I think Taxi Driver was first?”

“Came out in ‘76, just after he was in Godfather Part II in ‘74. Busy decade for him.”

“You’re telling me.”

The doorbell rang, the pizza arriving sooner than expected. You waited in the kitchen while Mickey dealt with the delivery.

“We can eat in the living room while we watch,” he said, carrying the pizza box inside. “I don’t have many people over, so it’s still a little messy.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him.

He put on the movie, and you balanced the paper plate on your lap, nodding along to “Be My Baby” as it played during the opening scene. Testing the waters, you scooted closer to him a few minutes into the movie. He glanced over at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

You were especially pleased when he put his arm around you, not bothering with the pretense of a “move,” but rather taking what he wanted. Settling comfortably next to him, you tried to focus on the movie.

Despite his arm around your shoulders, closer physically to him than you ever had been, you felt restless. You knew when the halfway point of the movie was, and so you excused yourself to use the bathroom, telling him he didn’t need to pause it until you returned.

The tips of your fingers itched as you passed closed doors to the bathroom, which he told you was at the end of the hall. Biting your lip, you considered your options, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, you reached for one of the door handles. A mostly empty extra bedroom, maybe his son’s old room. 

You weren’t deterred, opening another door. Jackpot. Slightly messy, with clothes strewn about the floor and on the dark sheets of his bed. Glancing behind you, you stepped into his room and looked around for anything that stood out. 

Most people hid things under their beds, and so you got down on your hands and knees, wondering where exactly he might hide his—

“Don’t think this is the bathroom,” he said, startling you.

You yelped, frantically turning around as your brain short circuited for an explanation. “I—I was just—“

“Looking for trophies? All serial killers keep them, right?” he asked, towering over you from your spot on the floor. “Mementos of their victims or the kills.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re looking in the wrong place anyway,” he said, pulling the knife from behind his back.

“Serial killers also don’t—don’t kill people th-they know,” you stammered.

“Typically,” he agreed, “but I’m not typical, am I? I’m sure you’ve listened to plenty of those cute little podcasts where some dumbasses read the Wikipedia page about the Windsor College murders in between hawking security systems to their listeners that they’ve just scared shitless. I admitted I did it, went to fucking trial, and the jury couldn’t even find me guilty.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what trophy would I keep from you?”

You were silent for a moment before answering, looking him in the eye. “My panties.”

“Which pair? Figure I have at least five of them now. Unless you wanna make that six, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been breaking into my place all this time.”

“You made it way too easy. It’s like you were asking for it.”

Maybe you were. Regardless, you didn’t show any resistance when he lightly kicked at your leg, a silent command to stand up. You got to your feet, though your gaze was fixed on the knife in his hand. His eyes followed yours, and he smirked a bit before putting the knife aside.

He turned you around, pushing you back onto his bed. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed your skirt up, his hand caressing your ass, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your panties.

“Were you asking for it, sweetheart? Have you wanted this all along? Been a bad girl to get my attention?”

“Yes,” you whimpered weakly, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of serial killers having groupies, but you,” he said, slapping your ass for emphasis, eliciting a moan from you, “are something else.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered, fidgeting against his mattress.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Another smack on your ass. “I could’ve been having fun with you months ago.” Smack! You hissed this time, though your pussy was pulsing between your legs. “Bent you over my desk in the office, have my way with you while no one else is around—or maybe a little slut like you would wanna get caught with daddy’s dick buried inside her.”

He spanked you harder this time, holding you down when your body instinctively recoiled at the impact. A pained moan escaped your lips as he pressed his body weight against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your tender skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as the sensation, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs.

“Or maybe,” he said, reaching around you to wrap his hand around your neck, “you just want me to fuck you before I kill you. Probably cum the minute I put that old Ghostface mask on, huh, baby?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words. “Yes, daddy.”

He released his grip on your throat, standing up to give you one more slap across your ass. “Turn over. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The friction from his sheets stung against your sore ass as you rolled over to look at him, though he grabbed you, pushing you onto your back himself. His grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your arms as he held you down beneath him, completely at his mercy.

He pulled off your skirt and panties, leaving your pussy exposed for him. He dragged his index finger between your folds, and you whimpered when he brushed your clit.

“God, you’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips. “Was it the spanking, or is it the serial killer thing?”

“Both.”

“Good answer,” he said, lazily circling your clit with his finger. 

He ducked his head down, wasting no time in devouring your wet cunt. His tongue relentlessly flicked at your clit while he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out of your hole. You took them easily, but wondered if it’d be the same for his cock when he’d undoubtedly fuck you. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as he worked his tongue, your feet curling at the tension you felt building up inside of you. He moaned against you, loud enough that it felt like his voice rocked through your body. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly.

A pained and outraged whine pulled from your throat when he did just that. You looked down at him between your legs, betrayed.

“Why should I let you cum?” he teased, rubbing light circles in your clit with his soaked fingers. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “Please, daddy.”

“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please let me cum, daddy. I’ll be so good. I—I’ll do anything, just—please,” you cried out in frustration of being so close yet not quite there.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” he relented, dipping his head back down between your legs, his hands holding your hips in place as your lower half began to quiver at his touch.

You could feel his lips move slightly against your sensitive pussy, nothing short of a smug expression on his face at making you fall apart so easily. It didn’t matter, your head was swimming, muscles strained as he brought you closer to climax. Grabbing his hair, you pressed his face closer against your pussy, grinding against it in desperation. 

“Mickey—Fuck—“ you choked out as your orgasm wracked through you, fireworks in between your legs as your body shook. 

He ate you out through your orgasm, and another tidal wave of pleasure hit you all at once, almost painful and overwhelming, your brain on fire at the sensation. You could hardly catch your breath when you released your grip from his hair and he lifted his head, your wetness glistening on his lips.

When he kissed you, you hardly had the strength to kiss him back, though tasting yourself on his mouth sent a rush through you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck. His hard length rubbed against your slick-coated thigh, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Did you really wanna get caught?”

He stopped, lifting his head from your neck to look at you a few moments before answering, “Yeah, blame the movies, make a real circus of the trial, but my attorney said he didn’t think I could pull off an insanity plea because I was too put together. Obviously pleading guilty and confessing everything wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as actually going on trial. I was pissed at first, but it worked out, I mean I had every reporter eating out of the palm of my hand by day three.”

“Why don’t you do interviews now? Or write a book?”

“What’s there to say? Not the truth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“Probably should,” he said, the slightest smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes raked over you, “I might need more convincing not to.”

#mickey altieri x reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #slasher x reader #mickey altieri #scream #scream 2 #slasher fandom #slasher community #scream franchise

[moonlightisdancing]

The Gallery/ s.f.k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 3650

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI light arguing, mentions break-up, emotional and physical intimacy, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!)

PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!!

playlist of songs inspiring this (x)

•

•

•

•

•

p.s. im sorry for the lack of “black swan” feeling like i lost the plot a little:(

There’s two types of goodbyes. One where you know they’ll come home after a long day and tell you all about it over dinner, and one where you don’t know if or when you’ll see them again. Two weeks ago you fell victim to the second goodbye, except you were lucky enough to know the next time you’d see the “former” love of your life. You still had to pick up some of your belongings from the space you both used to occupy. Although you both claim it was a mutual breakup, it feels very one sided on your end. You couldn’t handle the lack of physical touch while Sam was away for work. He’d been on the road for some time with his brothers doing small gigs across the country while working on some new music. More so, you couldn’t handle the lack of communication while he was gone. You’d worked all day and he worked well into the night, leaving little to no time for the shortest of phone calls. With the band just starting to take off, you couldn’t afford not to work. After a while you found yourself pushing Sam away for reasons unbeknownst to you. Were you trying to be content in the lack of contact? Or were you trying to make the inevitable decision easier? You didn’t know but god did you fucking hate it. All you did know is that you would have given anything in this world to be with Sam while he was away. From the moment he stumbled into your life you were confident he’d be the only one you could entirely and unconditionally love, him being the only one to love you the same. His love was otherworldly, always loving big and often, always loving every aspect of you. If it weren’t for the complex work lives of both, you’d easily spend the rest of your days sharing every intimate detail of your lives together. The fear of holding him back was the only thing to make you pull away.

The pit in your stomach only grows deeper as your feet find their way up the driveway to the door of a home you once called your own. You knock on the door and wait anxiously for Sam to answer. You hear footsteps padding through the hall before hearing the door unlock, watching as it slowly creeps open with Sam’s tall figure peering behind.

“Hey, come in.” He spoke timidly with his voice hoarse from crying, the evidence of emotions solidified by his dark and swollen eyes.

The house was still organized with the exception of a few boxes filled with your belongings strewn about the living room. Sam has always been a very clean and organized person, you were just glad to see he’d been doing okay enough not to allow that aspect of his personality falter.

“I think that’s the rest of it.” He points his finger across several boxes resting in different parts of the room.

“I really appreciate you finishing the packing, thank you.” You walk towards the box next to the coffee table.

You notice on the coffee table still resides a framed picture of your first winter together when Sam had taken you to a Christmas store in Frankenmuth. An aching feeling moves into your chest as you try your best to hold back tears. You ultimately fail when you look around to see he still hasn’t taken down any of the pictures accumulated over the years.

“Sammy, did you want me to take these down for you?” You timidly ask pointing to the photos.

“Nah, I was gonna take them down when I was ready, I guess. The room’s just gonna look really empty without them.” He walks over and lays the picture frame face down on the coffee table before grabbing some boxes.

He helps you bring them outside and load them into your car, you follow him inside to grab what’s left. You pick up the last box, trying to fight the unfamiliar feeling boiling inside. A feeling of emptiness, sadness and guilt washes over you.

“Again, I really appreciate you finishing the packing, this week has been hell.”

“Tell me about it,” He takes the box from your hands and places it on the old piano bench. “Can we talk before you go?” Sam was starting to get teary eyed.

“Of course we can.” You reassure him.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me. I always would have done anything you asked me, even if it meant getting hurt in the end. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I wish I did a better job at that.” He places his hand on your cheek and kisses you on the forehead. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll always be right here, waiting for you.”

He pulls away but you’re quick to reconnect the point of contact, not wanting him to leave. You still love him but you know this is for the best. You wrap your arms around his torso as he hugs you back, resting his chin on your head.

“Sammy, it’s not your fault. None of it. I should have said something sooner instead of pushing you away. I still have so much love for you, and I hope we can still be friends. Maybe even more again? Once we figure ourselves out?” You let the tears roll down your cheeks, soaking the front of his shirt.

You peel yourself away from him, catching a familiar look in his eyes, one of sadness. In your three years together you’d only seen him like this not even a handful of times, and never by the grace of your own actions. Being in his arms made everything for the first time in two weeks feel so right, but you knew it shouldn’t have. Unsure if anything would ever feel right again, you place your hands on Sam’s cheeks, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip before kissing him one last time. You’re not sure what overcame you, quickly pulling away to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I don’t- I shouldn’t have done that.” You go to move your hands away from his face, but he gently grabs your wrists to keep them there. “Sam I should-”

He cuts you off to pull you in, connecting your lips to his once more, deepening the kiss. Your hands find their way tangled in his hair as he rests his hands on your hips. Sam slowly drags his hands up the side, dipping his fingers under your dress, feeling you however he can before you’re gone for good. You place your hands on his wrists and slide them out from under your dress, placing them between the two of you with a squeeze.

“Sam, we shouldn’t do this…” You look into his eyes, a place you once found solidarity now filled with nothing but hopelessness.

“Fuck, Y/N, stop doing this to me. You do one thing and say the other. Just tell me, what do you want?” He brings his hands to his face. “Please, just tell me?” He’s begging for an answer.

“It’s just going to hurt you more and I’m tired, Sam. I’m tired of hurting you.” Admitting it was enough to make tears swell in your eyes.

“No! No, not knowing the last time I held you in my arms and told you I loved you was the last time is what hurts. You don’t get to decide what’s going to hurt me!” The tears that threatened his lashline now start to spill over, running down his reddened cheeks. “I’m just supposed to continue through my days knowing you’re not here anymore? Knowing I will never come home to the love of my life again?”

“Sam… don’t do this, don’t say that…” You reach your hand up to wipe the tears from his cheek. If he asked, you’d bleed yourself goddamn dry to give him everything, you just can’t stand the thought of hurting him again.

“Please, Y/N? Just one more time where I’ll at least know it’s the last? I miss you.” He leans into your touch, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt between his thumb and index. “Even if you just spend the night next to me, if nothing else?”

You missed him too, having gotten hardly any sleep the past two weeks on a twin-sized mattress in your parent’s anything but heated basement, the harsh cold of a spot next to you that had been filled by Sam for the better half of some odd years.

“We can do that.” You defeatedly sigh walking towards the bedroom, your inability to deny his natural pull was a spell you knew you’d always be under.

Two weeks ago this would feel like any ordinary night. Coming home from work and hopping into the shower before bed, maybe even a nice bath. Every day for 3 years you did the same routine, and most times you were lucky enough to have Sam throw it off balance, to which he simply became part of the routine as opposed to a distraction. You cherished every moment you had with him because no matter how short or stressful it was, the good always outweighed the bad. Sam shuffles through the drawers and pulls out a pair of shorts and a shirt for you to wear. As your feet make their way into the room you see the bed is still made the way you’d fixed it when you left.

“Have you been making the bed?” You ask hesitantly, knowing he never made the bed because he liked how you fluffed the pillows better.

“No, I just haven’t been sleeping in it. Well, or at all really.” He shrugs as he hands you the clothes before pulling the covers back.

“What? Why not?” You go to walk towards the bathroom to get changed.

“Because it still smells like that perfume I like and I didn’t want it to go away.” He slips under the covers and lays facing the ceiling. “You can get dressed in here, I’ll turn around.”

You look at him with a frown on your face. “You don’t have to do that. Besides, I need help with the zipper on this dress.”

Sam sits up at the edge of the bed and you walk up in front of him. He takes a second to run his hands down your frame before he screws his eyes shut and rests his forehead against your sternum. You find yourself getting lost in his addictive presence, snapping back to reality as you hear him sniffle. You watch as he swipes tears from his eyes with his index and middle finger.

“Hey, you okay?” You place two fingers under his chin, pushing his face up to look at you.

“Far from it, I miss my girl, need my girl.”

“Need?” You ask, placing your hand on the space against his neck and collarbone, your thumb resting on his face.

Need. The thought of him needing you as opposed to wanting you breaks your heart more-so than it already is. The nail in the coffin of your unrecoverable heartbreak.

“I just need you one more time, before it’s really over?” His grip on your waist tightens but is still gentle.

“Sammy…”

“Nevermind it was stupid to ask again, I’m sorry.”

“No, not stupid. I need you, too.” You hesitate as the words leave your mouth, fingers twirling the ends of his hair. “I just can’t hurt you again, Sam. I won’t.”

“Missing you is what hurts me and I’ve done that every day since you left. This…” He pauses to point back and forth between the both of you, “isn’t gonna hurt me. It’s closure.” He pulls you closer to him, your legs naturally parting around his own as you fall into his lap. “Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi, Sammy.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Cute, I still make you blush?” He runs his hands up your thighs until they meet at the small of your back.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You place your hands gently on the sides of his face, the two of you staring into each other's eyes as you rub your thumbs over his damp skin.

Only in this moment does the weight of your fucked up reality finally relieve itself from your shoulders. Nothing else matters completely dissolving around you as your lips meet his, perfectly fitting like a key to its matching lock. He brings one hand from your back up between the two of you, placing your chin between his index and thumb. You place a hand to the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you. The kiss grows in lust and fervor as Sam slowly introduces his tongue into your mouth. You lean into him until he falls back onto the bed, never allowing your lips to come apart from one another.

“Excited?” He asks between giggles, allowing you to feel him smile against your lips.

“You always get me excited.” You whisper.

“Is that so? Still give you butterflies?” He wraps his arms around you, rolling over until he’s on top.

He positions himself with an arm on either side of your head, looking down to you as his hair cascades around your face. He shakes his head just enough to tickle the tip of your nose with the ends of his locks.

“Sammy, stop! That tickles!” You giggle, reaching your hands up to push his hair away from your face, pulling him into you to reconnect your lips with his.

As the kiss deepens, Sam lowers himself on top of you, pressing his hardened length against you as his fingers tangle themselves into your hair.

“Excited?” You quip, bucking your hips up against his length.

“Always, around you at least.” He looks at you with the look he’d given you thousands of times, like you’re the only girl in the world.

You stare into each other's eyes for a short period, his body still pressed against yours before he breaks the silence.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

“Yes?”

“You ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

Quickly following your response, Sam reaches his hands behind you to free you of your dress, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor. He unclasps your bra and hangs it off the headboard. You eagerly reach down to rid him of his clothing, with a little bit of help he’s kneeling completely uncovered over you. Sam takes his time planting heated kisses down your sternum, moving his hands to your hips as his lips trail to your center until they meet your aching bud. He presses a soft kiss to you before working his flat tongue over your clit, committing the feeling of you writhing beneath him to memory. He watches your movements through his dark lashes, every detail of the moment permanently etching itself into his mind. He removes his mouth from your mound, moving a hand from your hip to run two fingers through your folds. Sam presses his middle and ring finger teasingly against your entrance without giving you the pleasure of insertion.

��This okay?” He rubs the pads of his fingers against you, waiting for your response.

“Mhmm, now stop teasing me…” You snake a hand down to try and push his fingers into you, but you watch the muscles in his arm flex as he works against your desperate attempt for relief.

“Slow down, angel. If it’s really the last time, I’m gonna make it count. Make you remember me.”

“Do you think I’d ever forget you…?” You furrow your brows.

“I don’t know, you might. I feel like I don’t know anything when it comes to you anymore.” He removes his hand from your heat, sitting back on his calves.

“I’ll always remember you, Sammy.” You sit up on your elbows to keep eye contact. Of all times to have this conversation you weren’t expecting here or now.

“What if you don’t? What if you forget me while I’m gone and I never get my girl back?” His eyes grow with sadness as tears well up again.

“Have I forgotten you the other times?” You push yourself up entirely, crossing your legs and sitting in front of him, placing your hands on his knees.

“No…” He pauses for a second as you watch the thoughts cross his mind, a tear finding its way down his cheek. “But what if you figure yourself out and I’m not there?”

“Not where?” The intimacy in the room shifts to a different form, tears building up inside as you choke through your words.

“In the picture. What if figuring yourself out removes me from the picture?”

“Sammy, you’ll always be in the picture.” You squeeze his knees before hesitantly mumbling the next part. “You created the picture…”

“Created?”

“Sammy, everything we had… everything we wanted, I never wanted before you. I’m not sure there was ever a picture until you came along and painted one…”

“Was it a good picture?” He places his hands over yours.

“The most beautiful, and it still is. But sometimes we have to step away from the picture before it’s finished so we know how to approach it, make it look exactly how we want.”

“I want to fill a gallery for you. Paint every picture just how you imagine, down to the last detail.” He leans forward to plant a needy kiss on your lips, making any words you found quickly leave your mind.

You wrap your arms around his neck and slowly start to pull him on top of you, resuming what you had started, shifting the intimacy once again. As the kissing grows more heated, your legs find their way around his hips, pushing his length against your center once again. Sam buries his face in your neck, sucking on the skin below your ear as he rubs himself against you. The need for some sort of greater contact grows inside of you and with no words spoken other than sweet moans, Sam picks up on your natural cues. He brings his face to yours, meeting your lips with his as he slowly drags himself between your folds, teasing your aching clit with the head of his cock.

“Let me paint you one more time.” He whispers into your ear as he slides himself inside of you.

You can’t remember the last time you had Sam like this, the slight burn from him stretching you perfectly being a more emotionally painful reminder of the one you loved. Sam’s barely 3 inches in, but his pure width makes you hiss at the sensation. He pauses his movement, moving a hand to your cheek.

“You okay? Does it hurt?” He furrows his brows.

“A little, but I’ll be okay.”

“No, no, no, don’t wanna hurt you. Do you want lube?”

You nod yes as he sits up and places his hands on your knees, slowly removing himself leaving you empty. He reaches over into the nightstand on his side of the bed and shuffles around the top drawer.

“I have this strawberry flavored lube we got a little bit ago…” He presents it to you followed by giggles.

“Works for me, I just need you.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Sam pops the cap off the bottle and you take it from his hands, pouring some onto his hardened length.

You take him into your hand as you work the lube down to the base of his cock until he’s fully covered in the sweet substance. You guide him back to your entrance and he pushes into you slowly, watching for any further signs of discomfort.

“Does that feel better?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as he slowly works himself further.

“Feels so good.” You moan, wrapping your hands around his wrists that are now planted on your hips.

Sam continues thrusting into you slowly, watching your eyes flutter each time he enters you fully. He brings a hand up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You grab his wrist with your hand to hold him there, allowing the warmth from his hand to keep you grounded. He wraps his fingers around the side of your head, rubbing circles on your cheek with his thumb. You trace his knuckles with the pads of your fingers, taking in every minute detail of his hand. He releases his other hand from your hip and brings the pad of his thumb to your center, working tight, fast circles over your throbbing bud. You begin to tighten under his touch, so tender and sweet with each movement as he brings you closer to the edge.

“Sam, I-”

“I know, baby. It’s okay, me too.” He finally starts to pick up speed as both of your emotional releases come crashing down, tears swelling in his and your eyes.

His cock twitches as he empties every last drop of himself inside of you, painting your walls the perfect shade of white. His body falls defeatedly on you, forehead pressed against yours. After coming down from your highs, Sam removes his now soft member and rolls over next to you. He places gentle kisses along your face before meeting your lips once more.

“I missed you.” You run your fingers through the hair framing his face, looking into his big brown eyes. God those fucking eyes. The realization that you might never have someone who cares for and loves you so much hits you like a train. Your hand moves down to lay on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of each breath as it enters and exits his lungs.

“I missed you, too.” He mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut. “I hope that makes it into the gallery.”

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #one shot #greta van fanfic #sam gvf #sam kiszka #samfkiszka #sammy kiszka #sammy gvf #fanfic #sfk #sam kiszka gvf

[sage-lights]

spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in

“Hey,” Amanda's voice quivers. She physically can't look Angela in the eyes when she greets her. Fuck, this shouldn’t be happening right now. The day has barely started and Amanda already feels like running away from everyone.

Angela looks at her skeptically, “I would say ‘Good morning,’ but you look like yours has been pretty terrible already. Everything okay?”

Amanda collects herself enough to muster a sort-of smile and shrugs. She watches as Angela furrows her brows, contemplating something. Before Amanda can insist that it’s no big deal, she feels herself getting tugged towards the back of the office and led between the costume racks.

“Spill. What’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing, honestly,” God, Amanda feels like she’s a teenager again. It’s stupid that she’s this upset about it.

Angela scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Oh, come on, Amanda. Don’t give me that bullshit. We both know something is wrong,” her tone softens once she sees Amanda’s eyes start to become glassy, “It’s not stupid to be upset.”

She laughs a little, “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“Because I know you. And I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I appreciate you checking in, Ang,” Amanda sighs, “But I really shouldn’t be getting into it at work.”

“I know we’re coworkers, but we’re friends too, right? It’s fine if you really don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here for you,” she grabs Amanda’s hands and gives them a gentle squeeze. That simple gesture was enough to break down the final brick of Amanda's wall, and suddenly, everything came spilling out.

Two nights ago, she had gotten a call from Ian telling her that she didn’t need to come in for work the next morning, which Angela already knew, seeing as she was the one filling in for Amanda yesterday.

What Angela didn’t know, however, was how Amanda’s jaw tightened when she saw the close friends stories of her coworkers, her friends, having fun while she wasn't there. How she had to stop herself from spiraling as she rewatched the videos over and over again. How disappointed she felt in herself for letting this affect her.

Angela lets go of her hands. Amanda’s heart drops for a moment, thinking that she’s overstepped boundaries and came off immature, until she feels Angela hug her.

“We missed you too, you know?” Angela leans away slightly to look up at Amanda, arms remaining around her waist.

"I hate that I'm feeling this way. It feels so high school of me to be sad about my friends hanging out without me. And it's not even like you all planned to see each other! This is our job and," Amanda bites her lip, hesitant to admit, "I guess the kid in me remembers what it was like to get excluded from things. For the longest time, I was convinced it was a me problem. Maybe I never got over that."

"I get it, but you're right. It's a job where none of us have control over who's scheduled on any given day. It's not just a regular hang out between friends. Because if it was, I want you to believe me when I say we'd want you around every single time."

This time, Amanda is the one that pulls Angela into an embrace, "What would I do without you, Angela?"

"Probably cry alone in the gender-neutral bathroom." Angela laughs.

Amanda has to admit, Smosh is a pretty sweet gig. After all, it brought Angela into her life.

-----

word count: 587

title from: "satellite" by harry styles i think it's literally been 4 years since i wrote fanfic but! i woke up with such bad amangela brain rot this morning that the thought of them is actually making me ill right now. i wrote this ficlet at 8am in class on the doc i use for taking notes, so it's not my best writing...yeah! hope you enjoyed it!

#amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #amangela #smosh rpf #smoshblr #smosh fanfiction

[eyesxxyou]

Peeved (Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x transmasc!reader

Hobie Brown x transmasc!reader

Rating: mature

Word count: 2k

synopsis: Hobart Brown gets or your last nerve, with his "fuck all" attitude and disregard for your practice times. But you have to admit, you love his hands

warnings: fingering, some second hand embarrassment, hobie praising/teasing reader, hobie being a little shit as always, humping, kinda rushed but I did my best

Enjoy!

“He’s late…again.” You deadpan, checking the time for the third time in just under 20 minutes. “He always does this. Remind me why we haven’t kicked him out of the band yet?” You look to your drummer, who lays upside down off the side of your couch because she knew Hobie would be about an hour or so late like he always is. You could always count on him to never show up on time.

"Because," your drummer says, "no one can play the guitar like he can. You know he's killer at it." It's true and it annoys you that it is. You can't replace him, definitely not at a time like this. You have a gig a week away and even that won't whip him into shape and force him to get his act together, at least for this.

"I can play the guitar…good enough to do his part at least." You cross your arms, kicking a loose shirt you had on the floor under the couch before sitting down. Frustrated at your guitarist, you slouch into the mangy couch.

"You can sing, play the bass, and the lead at the same time." She glances at you from behind messy streaks of eyeliner and long lashes. "Why didn't you enlighten us with this information before? Who knew you were such a talent, Y/N?"

You rolled your eyes at her. "Oh, fuck you."

It was then that Hobie decided he would grace you with his presence, coming barreling through the window with his guitar swinging behind his back. "Yo." The nonchalant in his voice pisses you off. You stand up and once again, like you are every time, reminded by how much shorter you are than him. He's tall, thin, lean, lanky. Overall pretty but he'd probably knock someone's head off if they called him that. It was a shame, in different circumstances, he'd be just your type.

"And where the hell have you been?"

Hobie looks you right in the eyes with a smirk playing across his pierced lips. "Places." You know he's being vague on purpose to get a rise out of you and for a moment it works. "I told you what time to be here."

"I don't believe in consistency, love." He shrugged and for a moment you thought you might jump on him and try to tear his face off. "Well you better find your belief in it before I make you test your belief in whether God exists or not."

"Could you two get a room already. You're this–" she punched her fingers together, " close to vigorously making out with each other." You glare at her and she just smiles and blows you a kiss from her darkly lined lips.

"Let's not waste time then since you're so determined to get through practice." Hobie slips past you, his hands on your waist to put to the side before he swings his guitar to the front. You can't believe there was a time where you had a crush on him. A time where you would lavish over a touch like that, think about it late into the night, trace over where this skin touched yours.

Your drummer insists that you still have a crush on him, it just presents itself differently. "No, no, you definitely still want to fuck him, you just want to angry fuck him now." You'd brush her off, roll your eyes, but never deny. Because maybe a small part of you knows you still want him.

Of course, he plays his part perfectly but refuses to admit he practiced on his own time. "I don't need to practice, just natural talent is all." So cocky, but at least he could back it up you supposed.

His fingers played skillfully over the strings, long and slender, chipped black nail polish, nails always bitten short. Maybe you were staring at his fingers for too long because before you knew it, the music had stopped.

"You missed the queue."

You blink and the moment your eyes come up, they connect with Hobie's. He's got that look in his eyes you don't like. The ones where he knows something you don't. Or rather, he knows something that you don't want anyone else to know. It's mischievous, chaotic, and terrifying.

The rest of practice goes by without much of a hitch. Hobie liked being needlessly complicated but he knew you were seconds away from bashing his head in with his own guitar so he kept his antics to a minimum. But he could see it, the way your anger was burning with something else to fuel it, the way you glared at him that looked something more like longing than anything else, the way you moved away from him when he was close, not because you didn't want to be near him, but it you were close to him any longer, you might melt into him.

"I gotta head out early today." Your drummer was already packing up when she let you know.

"What? Why didn't you let me know sooner?" You're more upset that you'll be left alone with Hobie than anything else. She only shrugged and offered a teasing little smile. Liar. She had nowhere to be. The bastard.

"Why ain't you get on her like you got on me then?" Hobie was suddenly right beside you, nudging you with his elbow until you jumped away from him. You can't remember the last time you were left alone with him. Why was he looking at you like that?

"Because I like her more than you." Your murmur as you hang your guitar up on its stand and sigh. "I'm gonna make some tea, you can get the hell out."

Hobie doubled over in laughter. "No you're not. You and I both know you can't make tea for shit, love. It's gonna be water with milk. Get over here." He grabbed your hand, and brought you closer but you were already pulling away. "Stop, Hobie. You play too much."

"What's your deal? What's your problem with me? Because you've never been so aggressive until this past year." For the first time he seemed frustrated. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed at you as he grew closer. Why did he seem even taller now? Why was he backing you into a corner? And why hasn't he caught on yet? You thought he had for a moment.

"You know why." You insist because there's no way he doesn't. He's too smart for that, too observant. And he confirms that with what he says next. "Then say it. Not a mind reader, love, tell me what's so wrong with me that you can't stand my very presence."

"Because you're so you, Hobie!" You didn't want to get into an argument today. The stress was already too much for you and now you had to confront all of this. "You don't care about anything at all, nothing bothers you and you definitely never bother with anything! You just let things go so easily and it pisses me off because I like that about you so fucking much!" Your finger was nearly jabbing holes through his chest. "You make me sick because I just want my lips on yours and to feel your fingers inside of me."

You didn't mean to say so much, especially not that last part. The worst part is that Hobie seemed completely and utterly unfazed by what you had said. His lips pinched to the side as he nodded and hummed softly. "Well then, if you're so sick of me–" he grabbed your waist and pulled you close. His lips were pressed against yours. He bit your lip and you let him, you moaned for him, you opened up for him, let him slip his tongue between your lips, only to find that it was pierced as well.

He placed his tongue directly against yours with all the intent to swap saliva, leave a bit of him in you. You tugged at his vest, a signal for him to remove it. Hobie slid it off his narrow shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a clatter of leather and metal.

When you pulled away, much your dismay, Hobie sat down on the couch, legs spread a comfortable amount. "Come show me how much. I'll be your punching bag for a little bit, love." He motioned you over and like he was pulling on invisible strings, you came over and straddled his lap.

Your lips connected again, sticky and sloppy with passion as you but his lip piercing once more as traced the angle of his jaw with your hand. You could feel his calloused fingertips against the waist of your shorts. They skillfully unbuttoned them before slipping his hand into your underwear. “You said you wanted my fingers, right?” Hobie murmured against your lips as the pads of two of his digits glide against your clit. You shudder softly, your fingers fisting at his shirt.

“Go ahead. Use them.” Hobie leaned back against the couch and simply watched, let you have your way with him since you’re so frustrated. You immediately began to rock against his hand, easing his fingers against your entrance. Inch by inch entered you knuckle deep. You bit your lip, staring at Hobie behind hooded eyes.

“Pretty boy. Take what you need.” Your hands are on his neck, fingers slipping beneath his choker while you rut against his hand. You let out the softest whimpers and moans, mewling with pleasure while you rubbed your clit against the palm of his hand. “Tell me what else is wrong with me, love? Go on.” Hobie curls his fingers against your silky walls that grapple him so well he might just say forget his fingers altogether and move on to bigger things. But you were enjoying yourself so much.

You bite your lip as words fail you and you whimper. “Y-you–” You’re too focused on riding his hand. If only you could see yourself. You’d be so embarrassed that you’re letting yourself go to such a degree. “You’re so cocky.” You shiver, pressing your pelvis down harder against his rough hand.

“You make…yourself too comfortable in my house.” Hobie chuckles at that one. You can feel him curling his fingers everytime you bounce. He massaged the small little place inside you that makes your vision go blurry and your eyes cross. “Fuck— Hobie.” You whine needily. “Right there.” You’re starting to feel hot in your clothes. You wanted them off. You wanted his clothes off. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

“Saying my name all pretty like for someone who doesn’t like me, eh?” His other hand is on your waist, stroking your hips and thighs before setting in just the right position to control your hips. He can see you getting flustered, just the way you did when he called you a pretty girl. “You like that, love? You like it when I call you my pretty boy, love?” You cry out again for him.

“You’re right. I am cocky, aren’t I?” He forced you to move your hips faster and every muscle in your body trembled. “‘Cause I can really get used to a sight like this. Can’t you?” Hobie likes that way you’re completely falling apart just from his fingers. He couldn’t imagine what you would look like taking the rest of him. He could feel your walls pulsing, begging for release, to completely unravel and fall into pieces.

Your orgasm came like a tidal wave. So brutally you might as well have been torn apart and stitched back together like one of your late-night projects. It seizes your muscles, takes your over, makes you kiss him harder than ever before. Lips meet teeth, tongue, and metal all at the same time. You don’t notice Hobie slip his hand from your pants, digits coated in you.

“You still peeved with me?” He asks softly with a twinge of humor in his voice. There’s something horribly tender about his tone that isn’t usual for the Hobie you know. If you hadn’t known any better, you might have said that he liked you but he was far too inconsistent for something like a relationship. It wouldn’t last. You knew it.

"Just don't be late to practice tomorrow or I'll throw you out the damn window."

#spiderman atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut

[sunnebeam]

twin flame bruise. (02)

PART 2.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader, jeon jungkook x reader (yes they're different people)

plot: the jeon twins have become nothing more than two strikingly similar looking guys who share a mere home address and a last name. but in their senior year of college, the estranged twins may have found one more thing they share in common – you.

warnings: jeon twins au, possible headache bc the use of Jeongguk (nicknamed Guk) and Jung Kook (nicknamed JK) is v confusing, mentions of money laundering, strained family relationships

series index. | masterlist + disclaimers.

note: part 2 is here!!! this will have 8 parts + an epilogue btw! each part will more or less have the same word count as this one (since i still struggle writing long pieces),,, no update schedule, we just chillin' here and writing things when we have the time and energy <3 as always, feedback is highly appreciated!

It’s been a month and a half since Jung Kook last had a good night’s sleep.

But he supposes it could be worse. After all, the bed he’s laying on is decently soft, the pillows are freshly fluffed, and the bedroom he’s occupying doesn’t have that dusty-old-room smell. Yoongi really outdid himself with this one.

“Hey, kid.”

Speak of the devil.

JK turns on his side, his back facing the opened door and the person entering it. He hears another set of footsteps that tells him Namjoon just entered, too. Still, he doesn’t budge.

He knows his being a bit too hard on his two companions, but JK can’t help it.

“I know you’re mad at us…”

He’s not, actually. He’s mad at the situation.

“...and I know you hate this place…”

Not exactly. It’s a decent house. He just prefers his own.

“...but it’s still too dangerous right now. Please understand, kid, we need to hide away for a while. Make things die down a bit before going home.”

Home. He wants to go home. To his apartment. To his bed. To you.

JK sighs. He already had this particular talk with both Yoongi and Namjoon a hundred times already in the past month alone. He doesn’t mean to be so difficult but the situation just frustrates him to no end.

But then again, this is his own fault.

Entering the underground world of money laundering – even as an errand boy at the bottom of the food chain – wasn’t the greatest idea for a side job. But when you’re an impressionable college student mixing in with the wrong crowds, you don’t exactly make the best choices.

What started as a small, risky gig to earn some extra cash turned into an endless cycle of running his clients’ dirty money around different places and concealing them in clean, legal transactions.

He tried hiding his little errands from you but you were too observant for your own good. Though you don’t exactly know what he’s gotten himself into, you do know it’s dangerous. In fact, you told him time and again to get out and get his shit together. But by the time JK finally got his head out of the gutter and tried to leave, he couldn’t.

Because you needed money.

Money has always been a sore spot for you, having struggled financially for as long as you could remember. And yet, not once have you asked for his help nor forced him to put himself in risky situations just to help you out. Unfortunately for you, JK is nothing if not stubborn, and if there’s a way he could help you, he’ll do it.

But this time, though, he fucked up.

“You didn’t fuck up,” Namjoon interrupts his self-deprecating thoughts. “It’s not your fault, JK. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

But it is his fault. After all, their latest client was dangerous, influential, powerful. This client was not to be messed with, not to be stood up, not to be denied…

…and yet JK backed out of the deal at the last minute.

“You were right to back out,” Yoongi reassures him. “I wasn’t sure about that client, either.”

“You’re just saying that,” JK says.

“I’m not. If you hadn’t called to back out, I probably would’ve. Either way, the man's pissed off so we need to lie low for a bit, yeah? Don’t brood too much."

Yoongi turns and heads out the door, motioning for Namjoon to follow him out, but not before calling out to their younger companion for one last thing.

“You got a good heart, kid. Don’t worry, you’ll get home soon.”

And he will. He just has to hold out a bit more.

He can’t. He can’t hold out any more.

Jeongguk looks at the caller ID with panicked eyes, the incessant ringing of his phone echoing in his ears, and he realizes he can’t put off answering any longer.

Swiping the green button, he holds his phone to his ear and internally hypes himself up, before finally talking to his parents.

“Eomma.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” his mother responds sarcastically. “I was beginning to think we didn’t have a son anymore, with you not answering our calls and your brother giving us the silent treatment.”

His brother.

Guk pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering how he can keep feeding his mother the lie that his twin brother was just in one of his so-called moods and took an impromptu vacation somewhere.

He feels horrible for lying but he also doesn’t want to unnecessarily worry his parents on the fifty-fifty chance that his younger twin really did just take some time to himself without telling anybody. And maybe it makes Guk a terrible brother but he really thinks JK is capable of such a thing – of just going off the grid and not warning anyone.

But that’s the best case scenario.

As for the worst case scenario, the two of you already went to the police station to report his twin as missing. But since the last text he sent was telling you he was going somewhere and explicitly telling you not to follow him, the police couldn’t do much.

Still, Guk is nothing if not thorough, so he takes it upon himself to call in some favors and hire a private investigator. As of now, he’s still waiting for some updates.

“Sorry, Eomma, I’m a bit busy with homework,” Guk tries to placate his mother through the phone but at the mention of the last word, he’s reminded that he actually has company in his apartment right now when Taehyung and Jimin snort at his lame excuse.

“Homework?” his mother repeats. “You work too hard, Gukie,” she sighs. “If only your brother was more like you…”

Again with the comparisons.

“Nah, he’s alright, Eomma,” he defends. “Y’know, he’s not failing his classes, right?”

“Yeah, well, he’s not excelling in his classes, either.”

“He doesn’t have to. Cut him some slack.” At this point, he’s getting tired of the nagging, even though it’s not directed at him. This kind of nagging is the exact reason his parents’ relationship with his younger twin is so strained in the first place. “Anyways, tell Appa I said hi, will you? I gotta go. Bye. Love you.”

He hangs up.

“Damn, Guk,” Jimin sighs. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“I’ll tell them at some point, okay? I just need to make sure that JK didn’t leave on his own on a whim.”

“You still think that?” Taehyung asks incredulously. “I highly doubt he went missing on his own. Hell, even Y/N doubts that.”

At the mention of your name, Guk can’t help the slight reddening of his cheeks, something his friends immediately notice.

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like someone’s got a crush.”

He doesn’t even bother responding because how could he not have a crush? His growing, albeit awkward, relationship with you is plaguing his thoughts every minute since he met you. In between discussions about his twin’s possible whereabouts, your other conversations allow him to learn more about you, and what he learns is that you’re passionate, driven, diligent – all the good things.

And of course, to top all that off, you’re fucking beautiful, too. It’s no wonder that, despite the unlabeled situationship, his brother fell for you.

Guk just hopes, when all this is over, you’ll give him a chance.

Nope, you won’t give him a chance.

You stare at the customer who has the audacity to only order side dishes and nothing else again. He usually gets away with his request when your boss, Seojoon, is manning the counter. But with you? Nope, you’re not giving him another chance.

"You need to buy more than just pickled radish before I let you eat in this pub," you tell him, arms crossed. Your manager, Yiseo, is at your side, tapping her foot expectantly, her eyebrows raised.

He scoffs.

"Rude," he grumbles. "What if people find out you're turning away customers?"

"You can't be a customer if you only order the free side dishes," Yiseo retorts.

"At least I pay for the rice," he grumbles when a hand lands on his shoulder.

"That you do, Jin," your boss says, inserting himself into the conversation. He then tells Yiseo to cater to another customer who wants more drinks, before turning to you. "Y/N, why don't you prepare Seokjin's food while I show him to his table?"

You sigh, complying with the request and ignoring Jin's annoying smirk directed your way. Well, if Seojoon wants his business to be at a deficit, it's all on him.

Besides, you suppose you owe Jin now since Guk hired him, and being hired to investigate a missing person's whereabouts definitely isn't a walk in the park.

And speaking of Guk…

"Hey, Y/N."

Ah. Right on time.

"Hey, Guk," you greet him, waving your hand stiffly and awkwardly. Yiseo sees your shaky wave from across the pub and teasingly wiggles her eyebrows, but you silently plead with her to not make a comment.

After all, this has already become an everyday occurrence.

Everyday, a few hours before your shift ends, Guk visits the pub and eats with Jin, ordering a generous amount of actual food to compensate for the latter's small meal. Then, later at night after you close up, he walks you home – sometimes updating you on Jin's progress with the case, sometimes just talking to you about anything under the moon.

You've grown closer with him, without a doubt, but you can't deny that you're in an awkward situation – what, with your history involving his twin and all. You cringe internally when you remember the time Seojoon mistook him for JK, much to your embarrassment.

"Seokjin's over there." You point him to the table where the man is eating.

Guk looks at the direction you're pointing to before turning back to you with his eyebrows scrunched. You're about to ask him what's wrong when you see his hand reach towards your face, more specifically, your cheek.

"Eyelash," he says as an explanation, pulling the offending object from your cheek, completely oblivious to how you freeze up at his touch and proximity.

When he finally mumbles a low, "see you later," and heads to Jin's table, Yiseo rushes over to you and gives you a pointed look.

"I see you have a type."

"Please," you whine. "Don't."

She laughs at your expense, patting your shoulder and bumping her hips against yours playfully.

"Y'know," she starts, "you should consider giving him a chance."

"Unnie!"

"What?"

It's your turn to give her a pointed look. "Did you forget he's JK's brother? His twin brother?"

"Yeah, well, your fuckbuddy isn't here, so…" She shrugs. “I don’t see why you can’t ask him on a date.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself, your eyes downcast. "I can't even afford to go on dates, let alone have time for it."

It's the truth. Dates entail time and money – things you don't have. And it's not like you have any family to help you out, having been orphaned at a young age. You’ve only ever had yourself to rely on. That’s how it’s always been.

"Y/N."

You're pulled out from your thoughts when you see Guk approach you with wide eyes.

"Hey, Guk. Did you want more rice?"

"No. I, uh—" He looks from you to Seokjin who's frantically typing away on his phone back at their table. "Jin and I were just…"

He trails off. You stare at him, waiting.

After what feels like a hundred years, he finally gathers the resolve to tell you the three words you've been wanting to hear.

"We found him."

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #jeon jeongguk fic #jeongguk fic #bts x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #jeon jeongguk x you #jeongguk x you #bts x y/n #jeon jungkook x y/n #jungkook x y/n #jeon jeongguk x y/n #jeongguk x y/n #cat.writes