#the uniform is tainted for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coralinnii · 4 months

Note

Hi! How's it going?

Can I please request Leona, Riddle, Cater and Ace reacting to the reader wearing someone else's jacket?

‧₊˚✧New Jacket, Who Dis? ‧₊˚✧

↳ forgetting your jacket and wearing someone else’s

feat: Leona ❋ Riddle ❋ Cater ❋ Ace genre: humor, fluff note: no pronouns used for reader, reader is implied to be smaller than Floyd, nicknames used for reader (cutie, babe, baby), established relationships, reader is implied to be from Ramshackle,

I swear I will get these requests completed even if it kills me. Damn my tendency to go into hibernation during winter! Anyway, hope you guys enjoy the reading ^///^

Part 1 2.7k followers writing event

Leona has jackets?

I mean, you were sure Leona owns a plethora of high-end jackets and outerwear of the finest fabrics but be it a preference or perhaps too much of an effort, you rarely see the beastman wear anything other than a shirt and at best a dorm-mandated vest.

So, when you feel a chill down your spine on your way to class, the idea of asking your boyfriend for a jacket did not cross your mind. Can’t ask for what you’ve never seen.

A classmate of yours saw your pitiful form and offered you his school blazer. Something better than nothing, he thought.

Grateful, you were quick to take up his kind offer and practically snuggled your face into it for warmth. Now in a better mood, you got through the first half of the day and quickly made your way to the greenhouse where you suspect a certain lion beastman is hiding.

But it seems that said beastman wasn’t in high spirits as you were when with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, he raised his palm towards you signaling you to step no closer to him.

An unfamiliar scent unpleasantly wafted through Leona’s territory, and to his annoyance, you appeared to be the source of it.

No, not you…That wretched jacket.

Leona doesn’t have to ask. He can surmise the situation on his own, the weather was chilly, you being stupid enough to leave without something cozy, and some brave or stupid herbivore handing you something with his scent even though you were the partner of a beastman. Though irritating, logically this was not something surprising… but he doesn’t have to like it regardless.

And he doesn’t.

Pointing towards you, he further narrowed his gaze on the jacket that has tainted you with its irritating stench of another man. “Oi, take it off.”

Though confused, you did as he said (lest you want him even grumpier, you thought) and placed your friend’s jacket onto Leona’s outstretched hand.

Suddenly and without warning, the dark-haired upperclassman harshly tossed the fabric to a random direction, with such feelings of disgust and annoyance radiating off from Leona, you would think the jacket spat in his meal or something.

But no matter how many times you tried to ask for his reasons or how many times you begged him to let you go after pulling you into his arms so you could retrieve the abandoned jacket, Leona said nothing as he kept his grip strong around you as he fell asleep once more, lulled by your unobstructed scent.

“Ruggie can grab my jacket for you so quit harping about it…You feel bad for Ruggie for the trouble? Tch, who’s fault you think that is?”

Riddle’s appearance is perfect to a T. From his bow tie to his socks, the Heartslabyul housewarden chooses his attire to what is required; nothing is missing and nothing in excess.

Basically, he wouldn’t have a spare jacket nor can he part away from the required blazer of his school uniform despite how he honestly wanted to.

You understood his hesitance completely and didn’t probe further. Unfortunately, it left you noticeably shivering, and Floyd just had to mention your shivering form akin to a jittery guppy. Learning your predicament, the tall mischief-maker had a fun idea.

Which led to you finally leaving the classroom after Floyd finished his giggling fit seeing you looking practically devoured by his jacket. Floyd is a tall eel merman so the length of the sleeves and hem were certainly longer than an average uniform.

“Go ahead and wear it, just give it back later.” The sophomore graciously lent his jacket to you, but you suspected that he just wanted to prolong the humiliation.

At least you were grateful he wasn’t there to laugh at you when Riddle saw you in this mortifying position. The taller student would have probably coughed up his human lungs from laughing at your boyfriend's stunned expression.

“I…What is…” Riddle was dumbfounded. The sight of his beloved being swallowed by a jacket was not something he suspected. It is an amusing image to see, but definitely odd.

What’s the procedure for this? This was hardly appropriate school attire, but Riddle was stumped as to what to do next since he can’t think of a rule that addresses your lover being dressed in someone else’s jacket in a comical fashion.

Despite unable to complete his prior sentence, you knew what Riddle wanted to know. “…It’s Floyd’s. He thought it’d be funny.”

There was a burning sensation bubbling in Riddle when he thought about the Octavinelle rascal, how close and unnecessarily clingy he probably was to you as he took glee in his nonsensical pranks. Then, an unpleasant thought sat in the redhead’s mind as he watched you roll up the sleeves of Floyd’s jacket draped over your form. That eel gave you his jacket while Riddle, your boyfriend, didn’t.

"I supposed I should have expected this, given my choice."

Riddle let out a sigh before extending a hand to you, his face flushing a familiar red hue. “It may be redundant, but perhaps I could offer my own jacket? A warmer one at least, I wouldn’t want you to needlessly catch a cold.”

Happily, you took the sweet redhead’s offer. Walking together hand-in-hand, Riddle thought he could spare you a scolding about forgetting your jacket in the first place, so long as you rectify his mood by wearing his jacket instead.

“As your boyfriend it should be my duty to protect and care for you, no one else’s.”

Cater would have no problem with sharing his jacket with you, if he can take some cute pictures of course. His wardrobe has a mixture of trendy and cool clothing due to his time at the Pop Music Club. It wasn't a matter of what he could offer but rather his time to even give this offer.

It was today of all days that he couldn’t find time to himself since there were some last-minute preparations needed for the Unbirthday party. You felt too guilty and nervous to suddenly ask your boyfriend for a jacket in all this commotion, so you tried to handle the cold without one.

However, a classmate of yours was observant enough to notice your predicament and handed his jacket for the time being.

You’ve stuck around the Unbirthday party, waiting for the festivities to settle and relax before scanning through the crowd to find the man with a beautiful shade of orange hair.

But your boyfriend was quicker to find you as he surprised you first, covering your eyes from behind. “Guess who, cutie~?”

Laughing, you didn’t bother to answer as you immediately spun around to leap straight into Cater’s arms, to which Cater happily returned in kind.

“Looks like you got yourself some new threads. Almost couldn’t find you, cutie.” Referring to your newly acquired jacket, Cater could see the Heartslabyul emblem sewed onto its sleeve. Raising a quizzical brow, Cater questioned you, “Did you get it from the Adeuce duo?”

His guess was wrong though as you told him a classmate of yours offered you his jacket, pointing him in the distance with his friends. Well now, that’s interesting. If it were one of his or your friends, that’s fine and dandy…but a random classmate…

Cater genuinely appreciated that his little underclassmen are chivalrous enough to help their fellow peers, but he admits that it’s a little different when it involves you. You’re special to him after all and he gotta make sure only he gets to give you the best boyfie treatment.

With a smile on his face, Cater gently coaxed you out from the jacket before walking towards the oblivious student. “Let’s give him back his jacket, then we can head over to my room. I’ve got the perfect jacket for you to try out ♪”

“My cutie looks so ‘cammable in my jacket! This is definitely going on Magicam ♪ Oh, should we get matching couple outfits~?"

“Are you ever gonna stop sulking and tell me what’s wrong, Ace?”

“...”

It doesn’t matter how long you two were dating, Ace would tease you so much if you ask for his jacket, it’s almost not worth it. You could already hear the redhead’s cheeky voice in your head. “Aww, is my baby feeling cold? Do you need your amazing boyfriend to warm you up?”��

Feeling a little petty and not in the mood for his teasing, you instead asked Deuce if he could spare his extra jacket for you. To your luck, he had his track team jacket on hand that he could offer to you.

Warm and cozy, you met up with Ace who, upon seeing you, unceremoniously draped himself over you as he let out a deep sigh. “Ahh, I was so cold today. Thank Sevens you’re so warm.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly. Glad you didn’t ask for his jacket, then.

But as Ace shifted around in your arms, he looked over your jacket from his angle and felt a sneaking suspicion that he had seen it before…but not on you. “Hey babe, where’d you get the jacket from?”

“Oh, it’s Deuce’s track team jacket. I borrowed it ‘cuz I forgot mine back at Ramshackle.”

Which led to this predicament in Ace’s room, with the pouty freshman giving you the cold shoulder. Granted, it’s rather cute to see your boyfriend react so childishly over a jacket, but you’d preferred some cuddles right about now.

But Ace kept on with his act. It may seem like an overreaction but to Ace, knowing that you asked for Deuce instead of him first left a sour taste in his mouth and a blow to his ego. He’s supposed to be your boyfriend, ain’t he?

You sighed, having no choice but to “right your wrong”, then.

Crawling to where your lover was, you leaned into the crook of his neck as your arms circled his waist. “Don’t be mad, I’m so cold and I need my strong, handsome boyfriend to warm me up with hugs~ Aaacceee…”

Still met with silence, you upped the ante and started to press small pecks against his neck where you felt were getting hot and bumpy from your touch. Hiding your satisfied smile, you continued your onslaught of praises and coos.

Damn you and your cuteness, he thought. Breaking his cold facade, Ace groaned in frustration as he pulled you into his arms, giving into the cuddles you wanted.

“If you need something, you’d better be thinking of me first before anyone else, especially Deuce. Have some faith in your boyfriend here.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #twst ace x reader #twst riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #twst cater x reader

1K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 4 months

Note

If Simon and bimbo!reader ever had a big fight (not petty disagreements), what would they fight about? How do both handle serious fights and making up?

ahhhh :((( anon when I catch you. It'd likely be at the beginning of the relationship, before she knows about his job and he always leaves for weeks without telling her much about it

>Simon and bimbo!reader fight and make up.

“I just don't understand why you do this to me... just tell me.” Your voice is as pleading as it is demanding, eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in a mix of frustration and sadness.

“I can't—” He's interrupted by a small scoff coming out of you, your arms crossed as you look away and take a deep breath. He's never seen you like this before, never so... frustrated and angry. Anxiety starts to fill his soul within seconds, stuck between wanting to keep you away from his job, and wanting to reassure you.

“Do you just.... have a second family or something? Is that what it is?” The accusation makes his own face scrunch up in a mix of mild disgust and confusion. Was his unwavering loyalty to you not obvious? He never even looks at other women at all, his eyes are for you only.

“I don't.” It's all he can say to defend himself. How does he go about telling you he kills people for a living? Sure, he's protecting the world and serving the Queen, but would you look at him differently when you find out the same hands that are so gentle with you will forever be tainted with another's blood?

“Then what is it, Simon?” You never call him Simon. Even when you first met, you've always called him Si. He lets out a small sigh, shaking his head. He doesn't want to be around to fight, he just wants it all to be okay like before— yet he also understands why you're acting that way after months of being kept in the dark.

“I'll be back later.” He turns around to leave the shared flat, only being stopped by another scoff.

“Fine. Leave like you always do.” It was a low blow, you can tell that much by the way his muscles visibly tense up, bulging out of his black shirt. He shakes his head, the hand on the doorknob trembling slightly. He loves you more than anything, but can he really handle seeing the expression on your face when he tells you why he's away?

“'M in the military.” He finally turns around, walking back to you and holding your hand, sitting down on the couch and pulling you on his lap, one of his hands running down the length of your hair.

“SAS. I'll show you my contracts if you don't believe me.” He's willing to do anything to make you believe him. Each silent second only increases his anxiety, barely managing to look down at you just to see the gears shifting in your brain, putting two and two together.

“.... Is that why you always stink when you come back?” There's enough mirth in your tone to let him know you're joking, barely managing to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“Y'sniff me like a fuckin' police dog when I'm back, love. You like it.” No matter how much you roll your eyes in fake annoyance and pretend you don't like it, you both know the truth. You cuddle up closer to him, resting comfortably on his burly body.

“Y'wear the cool uniforms, Si?” Your voice is softer, almost shy to even ask the question. He knows you like masked men— he's heard you rant about Pyramid Head and Ghostface enough times already. He hums softly in reply, nodding his head.

“Sometimes. Cool mask and all, you'd like it.” He's just teasing you at this point, trying to hold back a smile when he feels you rapidly shifting in his arms just to get closer to his face, unable to hide your excitement.

“Yeah? Can I see?” Your giddiness is almost contagious, making a deep chuckle finally escape his lips. You're not looking at him like he's a monster, you're simply excited about the idea of him wearing a mask. Maybe letting you see Ghost isn't a bad idea.

“Hmm...” He drags out, looking away and pretending to think about it just to tease you. The smack to his arm is enough to make him grin at you, stealing a kiss before adjusting you on his lap, finally allowing his body to fully relax.

“Yeah, I'll show you.”

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Note

Mafia konig and his sweet innocent assistant

OMG!! MAFIA KONIG!! My mom was obsessed with TV show about ex-spec ops soldiers starting a criminal ring as a friend group because they didn't have any opportunities after being discharged from the military and...well, let me introduce you to this: Mafia!Konig as a discharged colonel Konig, was let go from the military with(thankfully) enough connections and retirement funds that his little hobby of smuggling guns from poorer Eastern European countries into Austria and Germany(both having horribly strict gun laws) for the less fortunate criminal rings. He gets them guns and drugs -- much lower prices too, thank god for his Prague connections and cheap labor -- and they get him money and power. Mafia!Konig who isn't your typical suit-wearing nice and clean-cut mob boss. He still wears his uniform - not because he wants to taint the suit, but because of his connections as the guy on the inside in the special forces - he was booted out of the army because of his age and traumas, even though he refused until his last day at the forces. He won't ever let anyone tear that form away from him - you just know he fucks you in his office in full gear, bouncing you on his cock as you're forced to beg your colonel to let you cum. Wearing his dog tags as the sign of ownership - as you're nothing but his obedient pet. Mafia!Konig has a solid reputation. A center that helps veterans overcome their traumas and find new purpose in life after exiting special forces - and you're his pretty assistant, just an innocent thing that runs around and does all of his paperwork because Colonel hates doing it! And you want to keep your job, you want to be useful, you're a good girl that doesn't question the suspicious numbers and shady people that attend some of his other totally legal businesses. You know better than to accuse people who served your country of being a dishonest bunch of thugs. Mafia!Konig who knows this is bad for you - innocent thing, you shouldn't ever be wrapped in his schemes, he only hired you because he wanted someone nice, someone kind to hang on to. He is doing terrible things every day, not shading from murders, assassinations and contraband smuggling - but he can come to you and place his head on your chest, just laying here for a few minutes as you stroke his head and relieve all of his anxieties.

Mafia!Konig who eventually convinces you to be his girlfriend. His trophy wife even, eventually - he wants to take care of you, to free you from having a job and worry about money...he has all means to make your life in Vienna as sweet as possible, cute thing, and he even hired move assistants for his more illegal doings just so your only job would be bringing him coffee and sucking him off under a table after the closes a very important weapons deal, forcing his thick cock in your willing throat as he promises to take you to the mountains on Christmas.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #mafia!konig #yandere konig

2K notes · View notes

teapartyprincess4two · 1 month

Text

Weakness- M. Sturniolo

pairing: fem!reader x FWB!Matt

classification: slight angst, smut

inspiration: submission for @annamcdonalds67 ‘s writer’s challenge, American Jesus by Nessa Barrett

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, slight cursing, no use of Y/n, mention of smoking

summary: You fight your inner desires, but ultimately let your weakness consume you.

—

You pull your skirt up quickly, jumping to get the fabric past your thighs. Matt watches from his bed, his body slumped against the headboard as he lazily pulls a cigarette to his lips. His lips form a smirk as you fumble to get yourself together, his eyes trained on the way your ass jiggles against the fabric of your pleated uniform. Even though you two clearly just finished, an erection grows in his boxers at the mere sight in front of him. His hands flick a lighter over the cigarette, inhaling once it’s lit.

Everything about what you just did —what you've been doing— with Matt is wrong. He’s your best friend's brother; the second you admitted that you had a crush on him you should’ve distanced yourself. Instead, you let yourself cross an unforgivable boundary with him time and time again.

There are so many reasons why this relationship is wrong. First, you’re the cheer captain who’s never been caught with so much as a wrinkle on your uniform. Second, you’re at the top of your class and have never brought home a grade lower than an A. Third, you’re popular and if anyone were to find you with a bad boy like Matt, even if it was just your best friend Nick, your perfect reputation would surely be tainted forever.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” he murmurs, each word being followed by a puff of smoke. He catches your attention through the mirror, throwing a playful wink your way that has you rolling your eyes.

“No, you will not see me next week. This was the last time, Matt,” you retorted, trying to sound confident, but even you struggle to believe your own words. You tug your shirt over your head, fluffing your hair over your shoulders as you examine yourself in the mirror. The school’s logo stairs back at you, reminding you of the reality of your situation, of everything that was at stake.

He’s got lips like cherry wine and cigarette smoke on his breath. He’s got pretty long brown hair, blue eyes that look like sex.

You’re a mess.

Your lipstick is painted across your cheek, your hair remains tangled no matter how many times you run your fingers through it, mascara forms dark circles under your eyes, and hickeys litter every inch of your neck.

Not that he looks any better. His lips are equally as stained as yours and his long, brown hair falls past his eyes.

“You said that last week,” he smirks, the sultry undertone in his voice causing your knees to buckle. He knows that he has you, but he wants you to pledge your allegiance to him one last time before you go.

“I mean it this time,” you say, but your voice trembles; a clear sign of your resolve breaking, and this was no time to give in. There was still time for you to walk out with even a little bit of your dignity. All you had to do was walk out, get in your car, and leave. But some things are easier said than done.

Instead, you go on a nervous ramble. “You probably don’t care, but if anyone were to find out about this– If Nick were to find out about this, I’d be the worst friend ever. And I have so many cheer scholarships lined up too, Matt. I can’t let my grades slip, if I get anything below an A they could take those away. Do you know what my parents would do to me if I lost those scholarships? What they’d do to me if it was all over a boy?” your words are coming out a mile a minute, each insecurity and doubt going in one of Matt’s ears and coming out the other.

“Do you even care?”

It’s not that he didn’t care, he just preferred it when your mouth was occupied with other things instead. Matt takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in your direction. It curls around your figure, lassoing you towards him slowly. He wasn’t good with words, so he’s glad that your body gravitates towards him like second nature.

“This is the last time….” your voice trails off as you fall into Matt’s trance.

Before you know it, you’re crawling over to him and your body has managed to fit perfectly against his. Eager hands fall onto his chest, earning a satisfied hum from him because he knows he won.

Matt takes one last drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as he dabs the bud onto the ashtray that sits on his nightstand. His hands instinctively pull your face in by the back of your neck, latching his lips onto yours and allowing the smoke to dissolve into the kiss. You used to hate the smell of cigarettes, but now even the taste is addicting.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” Matt instructs, his piercing blue eyes clouded with lust as he watches you intently. Your mind is telling you to stop, to grab your things and leave before anyone can notice you, but the aching feeling that grows under your skirt keeps you planted.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, watching you internally battle with yourself. The comment makes you feel weak and small, but you’re chasing a euphoric feeling that helps you see past that.

Matt’s lips trail down your jawline, finding the sensitive spots on your neck that are already lined with bruises and bite marks. He sucks on a spot that always makes you whimper, simultaneously bunching your skirt up against your waist.

He delivers a swift slap to your ass cheek, painting your skin a bright shade of red. “Matt,” your voice is strained against the kiss, but he knows exactly what you want. Your hands travel from his chest down to his boxers, teasing fingers tracing the outline of his erection. He kisses his teeth at the sensation, pulling away from your neck briefly to watch your perfectly manicured hand cup his clothed penis.

It would be easy for Matt to submit to you, but where was the fun in that?

Knees down at your altar. Please don’t fail me now.

“On your knees, Princess.”

It’s a command that you’re used to, one that you follow without complaint. You wiggle into the carpet, your knees accustomed to the rough feeling that meets them. “Beautiful,” he hums. His body towers over yours, ready to watch you worship and praise the entirety of his shaft.

You look up at him through hooded eyes, asking for permission to proceed. He grants it to you with a lick of his lips, his fingers caressing your face as you pull his boxers down.

Matt’s penis springs out of its constraints. “You know how I like it,” he comments, watching you take his shaft into your hands. You pump it slowly, taking your time with it and making sure to properly service him.

You place a neat kiss on the tip, letting your lips travel down towards the base. From there you lick a stripe back towards the top that has Matt hissing because you wrap your lips around it, almost like you were drawing an exclamation mark on it.

Your tongue swirls around the tip teasingly, lips still hugging around him. Matt’s eyes stare down at you, eager for your every move.

A careful hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pushing your head down slowly on the rest of his length. You gag when the tip hits the back of your throat, your hands moving from his member to his waist. That doesn’t stop him though, instead he bucks into you one more time just to hear you choke around his cock.

You got me red, white, and blue. Pledging my allegiance to you.

“You like that, don’t you?” His question is met with your bloodshot, tear brimmed eyes and a chin dribbling with saliva. Your blue hickeys and red eyes were about to pair perfectly with the white strings of cum he was going to paint your face with.

Ooh, seeing stars in your eyes. No, I’ve never felt so alive.

Matt’s fucking your face at a feverish pace, grunting every time your cheeks hollow around him or his dick presses against the back of your throat. He’s so unbelievably close that he has to shut his eyes because the way your saliva coats his penis and bubbles at your mouth has him seeing stars.

Momentarily, he pulls out of your mouth, giving you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tapping the tip on your lips. “Open,” he grits, shoving himself back into your dazed face. Three more pumps and the submissive sight in front of him is all it takes to push him over the edge.

Spurts of cum land on your tongue, some of it managing to hit your cheek. He collects it on the thumb that brushes your cheek, popping it in your mouth and groaning at how eagerly you lick it clean.

Won’t you take me to heaven tonight?

“Now let me make you feel good, yeah? To remind you how much you mean to me,” Matt whispers, pulling you up and guiding you to the edge of the bed. Now it’s his turn to kneel in front of you, his lips latching onto the skin of your ankles and slowly kissing their way up to your inner thighs.

He nips and sucks on your skin until he’s face to face with your crotch, your arousal evident through your soaked panties. Matt places a gentle kiss on your clothed bundle of nerves, relishing in the satisfied shudder than runs through your spine.

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and forcing you to lay back against the mattress. “Ready?” he asks, but he knows the answer, it’s literally glistening in front of him.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you respond. Weren’t you just claiming to be done with him? And now he has you exasperated at his touch.

Matt uses his teeth to pull your panties down, letting them fall onto the floor before returning his attention to your throbbing core.

He starts off slow, licking your clit just to get a taste of you. Your squirming informs him that this isn’t enough, so he uses his fingers to part your folds. His tongue is flat against you, applying pressure where you need it most.

His right hand presses one leg against the bed while the left clasps under your knees to push your leg in the air, providing him with the perfect position to ravish you. He begins sucking on your nub, burying his face in your juices.

You know all my secrets.

Your hands find his hair, whimpering as you tug at the strands. You’re squirming under him, attempting to pull away at the overstimulation, but his grip on you is so firm that you can’t move.

His left arm slithers from under your knee to over your thigh, wrapping around you tightly enough to tug you even further past the edge of the bed. At this point, your ass is in the air as you chase his face, grinding against him for even more friction.

“Matt— fuck! I’m so close,” you exclaim, propping yourself up on one of your elbows to watch him work. His hair fell past his eyes and his arms were securely wrapped around you; he looked so beautiful.

Your pussy flutters around him, signifying your pending release. So, as to push you closer towards your climax, his right hand leaves your thigh to plunge two long fingers inside of you. The euphoric sensation causes you to throw your head back in pleasure, your elbows giving out until your entire body falls back onto the mattress.

“C’mon baby,” he murmurs, “cum for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to come undone, your body trembling as your orgasm completely washes over you. Matt watches in awe as your jaw falls slack, small moans rolling off your tongue and floating towards him like a melodic tune.

You’re still catching your breath when Matt places one last kiss on your pussy, crawling over you to capture your lips in a kiss.

“How about we make the last time count?” he taunts, dragging the tip of his cock against your still sensitive folds.

You know you’re my weakness.

You nod your head feverishly, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. You’re desperate for his touch, your walls crashing down like an addict overcome with their weakness.

That doesn’t seem to satisfy him. “Words. I need to hear you say it,” he grunts, becoming desperate himself.

Tell me you believe in me too. I do.

“I need you, Matt. I’ll always need you,” there’s a pathetic desperation in your voice that makes his dick twitch, and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s plunging deep inside of you.

He sets a steady pace, rocking his body back and forth against yours like it’s the first and last time. His pelvis brushes against your clit with each stroke, causing your hips to lift off the mattress and meet him midway.

Matt pushes your hips back down, knowing that if you keep that up he won’t last. “Patience, baby. Patience.”

He’s got a cross around his neck.

You can’t be patient though, he’s already so deep inside of you and he still doesn’t feel close enough. Your fingers loop around the cross necklace that dangles from his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Your lips find his in a hungry frenzy, both your mouths moulding into a needy kiss.

Moans and whimpers are exchanged, along with the breathy sound that follows when you look down to see where you two are joined. His cock is covered in your slick, your walls hugging him perfectly with each stroke.

Your hand moves from the necklace to the nape of his neck, caressing and massaging the skin there as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. His necklace sways back and forth, serving as a reminder of how sinful this is. Yet, you never want it to stop.

Matt can tell you’re becoming pensive, so he pushes your hips into the mattress, providing him with a new angle that allows his tip to kiss your cervix. “Matt!” you gasp, the new, delicious angle setting you closer towards the edge.

His animalistic grunts fill the room, he loves when you say his name. “Say it again,” he commands, pulling out of you completely only to snap his hips back in at an ungodly rate.

“Matt!” you exclaim, chanting his name like a prayer.

You’re the greatest love of my life.

“That’s it baby, let go for me,” his words help you reach your climax, your pussy fluttering around him as you come undone. He follows suit shortly after, his head falling into the space where your neck meets your shoulder.

He groans as he releases inside of you, hot breath fanning against your neck. His hips rolls lazily against you, and for a second he lets himself be taken by the immense pleasure that washes over him.

“Fuck, I love you,” he moans, placing sloppy kisses all over your body. He doesn’t realize that he said until he feels your body stiffen beneath him, and honestly he’s not sure what possessed him to admit it out loud.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he stutters, pulling out of you completely. He’s quick to find his boxers and throw them on, leaving you dazed on the bed.

“See you next week?” you ask, a hopeful tone in your voice. Quickly you find your panties on the floor and adjust your skirt. He coughs awkwardly, mostly because he doesn’t know where to go from here.

“This was the last time,” he replies, quoting your words from earlier, but there’s something almost venomous in the way he says it. The sentence breaks your heart and you’re almost tempted to get down on your knees again so he’ll take it back. But you don’t, instead you gather your things and take a fleeting look at yourself in the mirror.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Wouldn’t want your best friend to find out about us anyways.”

You nod your head slowly, a tight lipped smile forming on your face. “Right.”

You were red, white and blue and he never gave you the chance to admit that you loved him too.

—

a/n: 🇺🇸😵 so excited to read everyone’s stories for this challenge!! - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

MASTERLIST

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @stingerayyy2

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

549 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 11 days

Note

Pizza boy brie forgetting to get out of cosplay before going to readers house because he was pressed for time. Maybe wearing a maid dress.

Yan "Pizza Boy" + Reader

Presenting himself live to an audience of hundreds couldn't hold a candle to how exposed Brie felt in that moment-

The frilly headpiece. Flowing skirt, framing the meat of his thighs stuffed into those slim, black stockings. A pink apron held tightly between his knees - its length exceeding the trim of the dress, masking any undesirable sight from view. You'd already seen this much, but for some reason showing you his underwear would be the final nail in the coffin for him. The sun had set enough where the transparent aspect of his panties may go noticed, but he couldn't live with the shame of you seeing him so intimately without having properly expressed his feelings-

"P... pizza's here."

Brie swallows thickly. How could he have fucked up his chances with you this badly? Everyone knows that the key to a successful business and continued from customers is good food, quality service, and speedy delivery. While Brie didn't have plans on opening up a pizza joint of his own - he couldn't lose you to another before he found a better excuse to pop up randomly at your door. It was all he had in terms of interacting with you. You'd problem never want to see him again after this. He felt like the biggest pervert in the world. Not only had he tainted your pizza with the physical release of his love, but here he was at your door dressed as a lustful maid.

The expression on your face isn't clear at first. Brie can hardly make sense of anything with his head spinning, struggling and failing to find an excuse for his attire. Dazedly, he watches the corners of your lips draw upwards in a smile. A small snicker of laughter from you washes away the dread like the calm after a storm - magnified by the words that follow after.

"Delivery and a show. The place you work at is bound to close if they aren't charging each for this. You start work after a costume party or something?"

Brie thanks the stars for the escape you've unknowingly gifted him. "T-that's right! I was gonna borrow a uniform from someone, but everyone kinda dared me to make my deliveries wearing this. Thankfully, I had some sneakers in the back of my car or I'd be driving all over town in high heels!"

"Good for your feet, but almost a shame for me. I'm sure you'd look great in them."

As embarrassing as the night started, Brie would be a fool to waste such a prime opportunity-

"I still have them in my car if you'd like to see me in them."

#Brie my oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere drabble #yandere boy #yandere male

431 notes · View notes

cheollipop · 11 months

Text

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

2K notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 5 months

Text

UNDOING // m. riddle

RATING: R / 1.1K WORDS (blurb)

Mattheo Riddle x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* The Room of Requirement grants you and Mattheo a helping hand.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! No protection - piv, degradation, slight praise, language, Mattheo's a little mean, ripping clothes, dom!Mattheo (+ blurb that ended up a bit longer than expected)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Heartbeat - Childish Gambino

---

It turned out that the Room of Requirement was really there when you needed it. Because when the two of you had come stumbling down the hall, fingers wrapped against each other’s, it had appeared before the two of you. Once inside, his fingers tangled within yours, slamming your hands up and over your head and against the door. Your breath jolted out at the sensation. Before you could comprehend the first movement, his lips were on your neck, laying bruising, biting kisses to the flesh there.

“Is that all you got, Riddle?” you spat his name. It was always like this between the two of you—constantly bickering. You’d make a snarky comment, and he’d bite back roughly. His hands would abuse every inch of your skin, breaking bones and tugging muscle, anything to claim you as his own. He’d do anything he had to to make sure everyone knew you belonged to him, even if it meant hurting you. And you didn’t care. You wanted every bit of that.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed in your ear, laying a harsh bite to the lobe. You yelped at the sensation, pushing a swift smack into his chest. Of course, it was useless, as he didn’t move an inch. A dark chuckle spilled like wine from his lips, trailing down the course of your neck and pooling down the midline of your chest. Or was that his fingers? You glanced down to try and figure out the answer when he crashed his lips to yours, tainting the soft flesh there.

His hands were fast and mean, yanking your uniform shirt roughly, the buttons clattering around the two of you like hail. The fingers of one hand worked your bottoms out of their button while the other gripped your hair roughly, pinning your head against the door. Without the security of its fastener, your bottoms fell loosely around your ankles. Refusing to pull your lips away from his, you wiggled your feet out of the bottoms whilst keeping your hands still fastened around his body.

In a movement as fluid as water, his hands tightened around the underside of your thighs, hiking you up against the wall. He moved in against your bare core, allowing your legs to rest comfortably around his taut hips. The rough material of his trousers pressed agonizingly against your core, sending shocks of pleasure up through your synapses. Mattheo’s breath was fast and panting into your mouth. You pull away.

“Mm, sounds like you’re gonna pass out, baby. You sure you can handle me?” you tease. You knew you were in for it as soon as the words left your mouth, but there was something about riling him up that made your sexual ventures so much more exciting. Anticipation pooled between your thighs as his eyes visibly darkened.

He pulled you away from the door and laid you out on the long, dark table that stood in the exact center of the shifting room. His hands went straight to his belt and zipper, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes. The clink of his belt sent a bolt of lust straight to your brain as he ripped his uniform jacket off. His hands unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt and loosened the tie. And there, above you, with his tousled hair and clothing, swollen lips, and blushed cheeks, you were positive you’d seen a god.

“You gonna fuck me, or just stare?” you say, tugging him closer to your core with your legs still wrapped around his hips. He was angry.

“Gonna shut you the fuck up,” he growled, shoving his pants around his thighs, freeing himself. He looked painfully swollen, the tip of him shimmering beneath the candles floating above the two of you. He spit on his hand and, without warning, pressed the tips of his finger over your entrance, tracing the outside and slowly pressing them within you. The scream that erupted from you must have penetrated the room’s walls because of the way they’d practically shaken beneath the volume.

By the time he’d lined himself up with your entrance and forced himself roughly inside, you’d lost all future taunts that had once danced on your lips. The only thing being freed from your worthless body were the most pathetic whimpers shoved out by Mattheo’s rough thrusts. The look in his eyes as he pushed into you was close to animalistic, his pupils blown impossibly large and his eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

His hands held you like a vice, keeping you still as he bruised your insides, taking a piece for himself. Your lips were perpetually parted, and the breath caught in your throat presented as strangled moans. It was ridiculous what the boy did to you.

“Yeah, baby?” he laughed, almost sadistically. “Where’s that mouth now, huh?” Perhaps you’d imagined it, but it felt as if his pace quickened if that was even possible.

“Come on, baby, give me that teasing,” he taunted. “Where’s it at, hmm?” His hips slowed. And slowed. And slowed. Until he was only pushing into you agonizingly, slow every few seconds. His breaths were hot and heavy against your slick skin. A curl fell before his face, a singular drop of sweat teasing the edge.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he cooed, the palm of his hand coming up to lay gentle slaps to either side of your face. “Is it too much, baby? Is that what it is? God, you’re fucking pathetic.”

His hands reassumed his grip around your hips as he resumed his pace from before. Blindingly, bruisingly rough thrusts that threatened to split you down the middle. Your breathless whines pushed from between your lips faster.

“Tell me what you want,” he groaned, his movement never halting. Even though he knew your response would be silent and useless, he asked anyway, taunting the fact that you couldn’t force your brain to form any words together. The only thing that existed right now was him inside of you.

“Oh, baby…Am I fucking you wordless?” he purred, his words sending fire down to your core. “Can’t even think straight with me so deep, hmm?”

Your end was building hot and fast beneath his degrading words and his mean hands. You wouldn’t last much longer, and Mattheo knew that from the way your legs were tightening around his waist.

Sweat slid down his neck and beneath his shirt, staining the inside with slick definition. One of his hands pushed between the two of you as he stroked his fingers across your most sensitive areas, his touch insistent and direct. Your eyes pushed to the back of your head, your back arching off of the table. Once again, he was your undoing, your legs trembling wildly beneath the weight of your finish.

“Oh, good fucking job, baby,” Mattheo groaned beneath your clenching core, feeling his finish begin to dance across his stomach just like yours. His eyes glanced down at yours as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, and his lips parted wider and wider, his release washing over his brain and within you.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03 (if you want to be added to the tag list for any future works, please send me a dm or message in my inbox, thanks!)*

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #gender neutral reader

721 notes · View notes

tomriddleslove · 1 month

Text

The devil can be beautiful.

✩Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader (Part 1)

SLOWBURN SERIES

Summary: The one where you have it all planned. There’s not a single thing you haven’t sorted, you’re practically untouchable in how perfect you are. He wants to destroy you, and he always gets what he wants. Alternatively: A bet is placed on whether Mattheo can ruin you. It’s not as easy as he thinks.

A/N: Imo a bit more accurate Mattheo here? He’s fucking toxic and they’re all horrible. This is a series!

Nietzche famously rejected connotations of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. They were nought but social constructs - ways to enforce power and authority under arbitrary values. Rather, he believed ‘good’ was relative, as was ‘bad’. If an action or doing promoted life, or power, then it was ‘good’. If an action promoted weakness, and conformity, then it was ‘bad’.

You weren’t religious, but you prayed to the heavens above that Nietzche was right because fuck.

Wrong has never felt so right.

‘Pl- plea-” You gasp, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you tilt your head back. His lips attach to the tender skin of your neck, nipping and biting at the delicate skin with no regard. He was ravenous, and you tasted like ambrosia, something too sweet for him. You had never felt so alive, feeling as though you were numb yet also like every nerve end was on fire.

Ravenous lips meet pure, untouched flesh. Iconoclastic in nature, the idea of corrupting such a sweet thing was enough to send the boy into a haze.

What was the saying? A wolf in sheep's clothing? Someone who seemed so unlikely, so deceptive. You couldn’t even fall back on that as an excuse. No, Mattheo Riddle was the devil himself, presenting himself to you with red horns and a fucking pitchfork in his hand and you stupidly let him sink his fangs into you.

He was beyond tainting you, no.

Mattheo Riddle was destroying you, and you could only let him.

- • -

Proper and prim.

If you had asked anyone to describe you in two words, you were sure those were the ones they would choose.

Proper and prim.

You were near perfect. Hell, if perfection existed you would be the image of it. From your neatly ironed robe to your polished shoes. Not a single thing was out of place. You embodied routine, and order.

Hair brushed back into a simple plait. School uniform modest, your tie neatly tucked underneath your grey school jumper. You had not produced a single piece of work that scored below 100%, from apparition to flying, you simply never did bad.

“Merlin, it must be depressing,” Theodore murmurs as he watches you walk through the Slytherin common room, up to the girls' dorms.

“Who?” Blaise quips as Pansy rolls her eyes, the distaste evident in her voice as she speaks.

“Who else but her? Miss Prissy Goody-Two shoes.” Pansy drawls, redirecting the group's attention to your retreating form.

Theodore reaches into his pocket, rolling a cigarette between two fingers as he speaks.“Did you know she scored 100% on all her OWLS?”

“Of fuking course she did. All she does is bury her nose in books. No wonder she’s always alone.” Draco mocks and Lorenzo snorts.

“She’s a bit of a weirdo” Lorenzo comments and Theodore barges in, a sleazy grin on his face as he raises a brow.

“You know what they say about the quiet ones right? Always the freakiest.”

Pansy dissolves into laughter, clutching her stomach as she speaks through giggles.

“Her? She’s an absolute prude! You should have seen her when she had to work with Pucey during potions. She couldn't even look in his direction. It's pathetic if you ask me.” She taunts.

Mattheo stares off into the fireplace, legs spread lazily as he reclines back onto the sofa. He had no interest in this conversation, really. Not for the reasons one would think, though. It’s not that he secretly cared for you or something, no it was far from that. He agreed that you were rather weird, too perfect and normal to be likeable. Rather he didn't have the energy to engage in such trivial matters.

“You should go ask her out on a date or something Theo. Don’t you like the nerdy girls?” Lorenzo teases as Theodore scoffs, propping his feet up on the table in front of him.

“Absolutely not, She’ll probably perform some kind of fucking blood curse on me.” He mutters as Draco raises a brow.

“How about this? If you manage to fuck her, I’ll give you 100 Galleons.” He proposes. Lorenzo nearly spits out his water as Pansy shakes her head.

Mattheo snaps out of his daze, looking up at Draco with mild curiosity.

“100 Galleons? Are you fucking insane?” Lorenzo blurts, looking at the platinum-haired boy in disbelief.

“Oh come on. It's a guaranteed win for Draco. It’s near impossible for anyone to do that.” Pansy adds.

“I’ll do it.”

It's his first contribution to the conversation and they all turn to look at him. Theodore raises a brow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as Pansy leans forward.

“Oh? And what makes you think you can?” She taunts.

“Look at her. Teacher’s pet, an absolute loner. Always reading. It’s so predictable. She probably has wet dreams about some bad boy coming to sweep her off her feet. It’s almost too easy.” He says, cracking his neck with a small groan as he sits up.

He could really do with the money. 100 Galleons could buy him at least 3 weeks in the shabby little inn he frequented over the school holidays.

Draco eyed him curiously, before extending his slim pale hand out.

“Agreed. 100 galleons if you manage to fuck her within a month.” Draco repeats, and Mattheo takes the offer.

His calloused palms meet Draco’s, and he shakes on it with a resolute nod, before leaning back in his chair.

1 month? What a joke. He only needed 2 weeks.

-•-

It had been two days after that conversation and Mattheo had been observing you closely, waiting for the right opportunity to crop up. In the meantime, he dissects everything about you. Theodore was right, you were so undeniably boring and monotonous Mattheo had to pause and wonder if you were a sadist of sorts, finding pleasure in such mind-numbing perfection.

It was the same damned thing every single day. You would turn up for breakfast at 8:00, and fix yourself a plate of porridge topped with a handful of blueberries. You’d eat as you read the newspaper, and finish by 8:15. You’d rise, put your bowl away, and head to your first class. You ate lunch during the first half, the same sandwich and apple every day. After lessons, you’d go up to the library. You’d take the furthest seat on the second floor, between the muggle studies and world history books. You would revise for 3 hours, close your books, and head back up to your dorm. You would then re-emerge no longer than 20 minutes later (still dressed in your school uniform) and head down to dinner. You always ate whatever was offered, had a single mug of peppermint tea, and then headed back up to your dorm before it was even 10.

Every. Single. Day.

Mattheo could not comprehend how on earth someone could live like that. Surely you had to be some sort of psychopath, right? There was no way you could find peace and comfort in such a routine. Sure, Mattheo certainly did not feel content, but he’s as sure as the sky is blue that he’d go insane if he lived like you.

Maybe you had some sort of secret? Perhaps you escaped the castle grounds at night to smoke or do some hardcore drugs. Maybe you were some sort of recluse who believed they were some sort of divine being. Your meticulously structured routine, your unwavering discipline—it all seemed too calculated, too perfect. There had to be something lurking beneath the surface, something that explained your seemingly robotic adherence to the same monotonous pattern day after day.

The countless possibilities run through Mattheos mind as he rests his chin on his hand, zoned out as he sits at the back of the astronomy class. Professor Sinastra drones on about Lunar phases and their implications on a wizard’s abilities. Mattheo gazes off at you, who (as per usual) sits right at the front of the class. Your posture is impeccably straight, and you jot down every word Sinastra speaks as though she’s teaching the class how to become a millionaire instantly.

“... And for that reason, I would like two volunteers to come work alongside myself on a month-long project locating rogue planets in the atmosphere. Not only will this be an exciting and unique opportunity, it’ll also put you in incredibly good standing for your upcoming NEWT exams, which may I remind you are in only a few months. The study will largely commence in the evenings, however, there will be a few instances where you will be required to complete monitoring throughout the whole day. You will be excused from lessons on those days, rest assured.” She says.

Mattheo straightens up in his chair as he sees your hand shoot up almost immediately. In any other instance, your enthusiasm would be infuriating at the very least, earning you a snarky remark. But now? Well, it was clear the universe was giving him a sign.

Taking advantage of everyone else's hesitancy, Mattheo raises his hand. A few murmurs ripple through the class, and Professor Sinastra cannot hide her surprise as she nods at Mattheo.

“I must say, I am glad to see you volunteering Mr Riddle.” She says, and Mattheo nods.

He can’t make it too obvious, though. He usually wouldn't be caught dead volunteering for such a thing.

“Getting to skip classes and being permitted to roam around at night? No brainer.” He says, not so subtly to Blaise. Granted, Blaise knows Mattheo’s true intentions, but the statement seems to satisfy the rest of their class, who turn back to their work whilst muttering about how it was a rather good offer.

Mattheo looks over to you, only to find you turned around in your seat, observing him for a second. Your eyes squint, an almost imperceptible change, before you quickly avert your gaze and turn back around.

“You might actually have this one.” Blaise murmurs, leaning closer to Mattheo. He can’t help but smile, an almost arrogant smirk, as he nods.

Looking at the way you diligently return to your work, Mattheo’s indifference suddenly morphs into determination.

This was too easy.

-•-

Mattheo saunters up the stairs to the astronomy tower, the faint moonlight just barely illuminating the path in front of him. As he pushes open the door to the tower, he sees you perched by the telescope. You're still in your school uniform, looking pristine as you sit on the floor, scribbling notes down in your book. You look up at the intrusion, clearing your throat when you see Mattheo. In the dim moonlight, Mattheo can see your face turn slightly red as you swiftly avert your gaze down to the floor.

“Riddle.” You greet, quietly. He hums in acknowledgement, setting his bag down to the side as he slumps against the wall, leaning back.

“Professor um- Professor Sinastra has asked us to just observe the sky and try to make predictions for when we can sight a rogue planet. I’m mapping the movement of the planets but she said you should try to calculate angles of visibility.” You murmur, voice quiet and hesitant.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as he looks over at you. "Angles of visibility, huh?" he muses, pushing himself off the wall and saunters over to where you're seated. "Sounds like a job for someone with a keen eye for detail."

You glance up at him, your expression guarded as you nod in agreement. "Yes, exactly. It's crucial to accurately calculate the angles to ensure our observations are precise."

He laughs, but it's not genuine. No, rather it's almost mocking.

“What makes you think I’m doing any of that, hmm? This is just an excuse for me to skip classes. How this is actually going to work, is that you’re going to do all the work, and let me slap my name on the parts I was meant to do, yeah?” he says, his tone oozing with faux sincerity.

You look up at him, a glimpse of surprise flashing in your eyes.

There we go. Wasn’t so hard to get a reaction out of you, wasn’t it? Mattheo thinks to himself, raising a brow. This would be simple enough. You’d fight back, and after a bit, he’d reluctantly agree. He’d begin to feign actual interest and before you knew it he’d be walking away with 100 galleons added to his name.

But instead of fighting, you nod and look back down at your book.

“Ok.” You murmur.

Mattheo's smirk falters for just a moment as he processes your response. He hadn't expected you to simply agree, to comply without so much as a hint of resistance. It throws him off balance, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“What? You’re not going to disagree? Or go snake on me to Professor Sinastra?” His voice comes out more incredulous than he intended, a mixture of surprise and confusion evident in his tone.

You glance up at him, your expression unreadable. "It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?" you reply calmly, your voice devoid of any trace of emotion.

Mattheo's mind races, trying to make sense of your reaction. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to push back, to challenge him, to give him something to work with. But instead, you're just... accepting it.

A flicker of annoyance flares within him, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. This wasn't what he had planned, wasn't how it was supposed to play out. He wanted a challenge, not this... this acquiescence.

He eyes you with a small frown, before turning on his heel and walking out. He’s both frustrated and confused, pondering your words as he makes his way back to the Slytherin common room. Were you really that pathetic? Did you actually have no backbone?

He walks back into the relatively empty common room, spotting the whole group in their usual spot. He goes over to them, tossing his bag to the side as he plops down onto the sofa with a sigh. Pansy eyes him with amusement as she speaks.

“So how was your first evening with our perfect student? Did you woo her under the stars?” Pansy teases as Mattheo fishes around in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Serenade her with a poem?”Theodore joins in, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Merlin, I knew she was a stick-up but to be that much of a push-over? She’s so mind-numbingly fucking boring it's actually insane.” Mattheo starts, lighting the cigarette as he takes a deep drag.

“I mean, I told her that she had to do all the work and give me the credit, and she just said ok! No fighting back, not even a look of annoyance. She just looked down and said Ok,” He exclaims, still rather baffled as he smokes his cigarette.

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "Well, isn't that just precious," he taunts, the hint of mockery in his tone unmistakable. "Our little goody-two-shoes just rolling over and playing dead at the first sign of trouble."

Mattheo scowls, taking another drag from his cigarette as he mulls over their words. It's frustrating, infuriating even, to think that you would just acquiesce without so much as a fight. He had been expecting resistance but instead, he's met with nothing but compliance, and it grates on his nerves in a way he can't quite explain.

"Well, whatever," Mattheo mutters, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he leans back against the sofa.

Just as he goes to speak, his eyes are drawn to the entrance of the common room. The group falls silent at your arrival. You walk through the common room, not even glancing in their direction as you clutch your school bag tightly, heading back up to your dorm.

‘Like you have your tail between your legs’ Mattheo thinks, observing your retreating form.

“Maybe it turned her on?” Theodore proposes. Draco groans, setting down his mug as he rolls his eyes.

“That's disgusting. I do not need to be thinking about that,” He complains.

“You’re the weirdo who proposed the bet anyway!” Theodore quips back, and they soon fall into a silly argument.

It’s all background noise for Mattheo, who can't seem to stop thinking about you. There was no chance you were simply so easily swayed, so complacent. No, there had to be more to it.

Mattheo was a Slytherin through and through. Cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. And if he wanted something, he would always get it. Mattheo would win this bet, and if not for the 100 galleons, it would be to unravel and destroy you, for he saw in your innocence a challenge — a spotless canvas begging for the brushstrokes of corruption, a pure soul ripe for the taint of himself. Even the most virtuous are not spared, and in his eyes, your fall would be his ultimate triumph.

@schaebickel @multifandom-worlds @mildlyuninformative @lillywildly @gillyweeds @anti-hero03

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n

362 notes · View notes

xuchiya · 2 months

Text

streets [c.san]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ We real life made for each other And it's hard to keep my cool ₊˚.༄

"it's getting late, do you have someone to pick you up?" your head turn towards san, still in his uniform. his face mask were pulled down just below his bottom lip, emphasizing his cheeks; it made you want to squish his cheeks from being so innocent.

san was one of your fellow nurses. The crisp navy-blue scrubs fit him perfectly, the name tag reading "San Choi, RN" gleaming under the fluorescent lights. you cleared your throat; your heart was beating too loud for you that it hurts to taint this uncorrupted soul. you have hint after hint of crush on this man, this huge ass man that his face does not match his enormous body that you totally found yourself completely hidden.

proved when you stood behind him once and when you say, disappeared.

abracadabra, bitch not even a strand of hair can be seen.

"ah well i actually have somewhere to be ... what about you?" san looks at his watch, sighing, brushing his hair off his eyes, "my friend said he'll pick me up but he had an emergency call from his dad's company so now I have to wait for a bus..."

you frown looking at your watch too, its 10pm. Usually buses don't take this route anymore, "buses aren't available in this hour, san."

his heart fell on his stomach, double checking his watch, "damn it!" your eyes widen at his sudden burst of profanity. his eyes widen too and apologizing to you, "i'm sorry didn't mean to."

your lips curled up in a teasing smile, "your patient would not like it if she heard that one." San shakes his head laughing lightly. the small silence engulfs you both before you had an idea which will be a torture for you.

probably a torture for him too.

San was already an intern at a prestigious hospital near his family's home; owned by his grandfather though he is expecting him that he will continue his service even after his internship.

but when San came by a hospital that one of his friends were admitted after being confined. He found himself stuck on the reception area as his eyes were glued to your figure, up on hospital trolley, shouting dose of pharmaceutical. Your determine look and perseverance on your career what intrigued him to know you more.

so he left his family hospital.

San is pediatrician and so do you, the amount of love he gives on these children what also intrigued you in getting to know the man that suddenly left the hospital that you were trying to apply.

"hey i can give you a ride?" you mention, his ear perk up and reddens. his heart thumps inside his chest all of a sudden, "i-i .."

upon realizing what you said, your eyes once again widen and stutter out excuses, "oh my gosh! i - this is embarrassing, God take me!" you groan, covering your face.

for a while San chuckles at your reaction, composing himself, "I know you don't mean any harm but if you're going to drop me off then i hope i'm not delaying any of your plans."

When San agrees about you giving him a ride, he meant to be able to relax on the passenger seat.

He stares at the glaring matte black with gold flames on the Kawasaki Ninja 400R. That is one of the motorbikes he wishes to own and drive but because of his independence, San is still saving up.

"Holy .." You look at San as you place the glove tightly on your hand, "hmm?" Clueless on his reaction, you swing your leg over the bike, reviving the engine on and tune in the smoky sound of the engine of your bike.

San stares in awe as you hand him (set of embarrassment hue on your cheeks) a customized helmet. It has kitty ear with soft peach color as parallel of the inside of the ear.

"this is so cute." when he puts in the helmet, it dawned on him. You, arch back, hunch forward and him behind you, holding on tightly. His ears were once again red, frozen in place; his mind racing the same speed as your bike with filthy thoughts.

Like how could he not? Your ass is probably close to his (now) stiffening cock in his scrubs when he jumps in. the way it would keep brushing on his cock would probably have him cumming there.

"San? you okay?" You haven't feel the pressure or the weight on your back, so you turn your attention on San; standing with an incredible thickening boner in his scrubs, if it weren't for the eye shield of your helmet, he would seen you checking him out.

Or worse, staring at his firm boner.

San snap out of his thoughts and hurriedly swing his legs over the other side of the bike, after settling down on the leather seat. "You okay? Do you need-"

"Let's just go." San spoke clearing his throat and immediatly feels bad for brushing your concerns off, you understood why.

Without speaking much, you note that San would not hold on to you because of his hard situation so you did the initiative to grab his hands, in which he was taken back, and wrap them around your waist; patting his hand, "Mind you that it's night and I'll be taking advantage of the road."

You look over at San, "don't worry, I'll slow down if its too much." So without delaying much of your guys time, you kick off the stand and off both of you on the streets. San calling whatever can answer them make this ride, a comfortable one.

to say the least, no one grant his calls.

"u-Ugh f-ufuck chakaman!" San gasp, holding on to the mop of hair on the level of his hips while gripping his scrub up on his chest in his other hand—exposing his toned stomach, his scrub pants pooled on the floor. Your tousled hair, lips wrapped around his aching cock left him gripping the leather seat of your motorbike as you continued swirling your tongue on his red tip. San cried, bucking his hips when you took all of him; fitting him in your mouth up til’ his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You hum to accumulate more of his climax, which in your satisfaction made San whimper thrusting his hips in your mouth, “f-fuck …” Shamelessly, he started fucking your throat as his climax were nearing and sooner, his cum spurted on your tongue and down your throat. You pull away from him, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to let him see that you have collected some of his cum before swallowing them.

You gave him a smile before licking your salty lips, standing up proceeding to remove your leather pants; letting them rest on your knees along with your undies. You turn your head over to look at him with a smirk on your lips, bending moderately for him to see your puckered glistening hole with a small help of one of your hands to spread your cheek.

“I know you want to get your dick wet, come on baby.” San’s eye twitch the moment you provoke him and have to look around the cleared parking spot you parked on and had him spitting his fingers and run them up and down your puffy cunt before grabbing his semi-hard dick and tap his tip on your hole; wiggling your asscheeks for him to provoke him more which he took the cue and slam his hips on yours.

You were quite taken back, his hips pace was something you were wondering if he has his dick wet a few times or he has this speed that you were looking for; nevertheless it had you moaning his name as his tip kept nudging. You rolled your hips each time he pulls away, leaving the tip then slamming back inside, “Fu-fuck Sannie— that’s so good! Right there!”

San’s hand crept down towards your clit, circling them rapidly and increasing the pleasure and the coil on your stomach, “You like that? You dirty dirty girl.” San stops circling his fingers around your clit and let you bend over your motorcycle as his hips snaps swiftly, placing the hem of his scrubs between his teeth as his hands knead the flesh of your hips then to your plump ass, spreading them as he watch his dick disappear inside your hole; a ring of your slick making him moan in his scrubs.

“Shit shit!” You cursed, lewd noises echoing the silent parking lot increase the arousal on your stomach, the fire of desire as San rapidly ram himself until you feel your thighs shake, “I’m g-gonna cum!” San drops the cloth and bent over to your ear, “Then make yourself a mess on my dick baby.”

That it all took before you had a long string of ‘fuck’ leaving your lips as your orgasm washed over you, eyes fluterring close hips moving to chase your high. You felt San’s hand clasp around your hips and his broken moans reach your ears, “I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not but me? Get you knocked up? It’s been a fantasy of mine.”

His seeds spurted your walls, bucking a deeper part of your pussy. His hips halted as he let every drop of his cum stay inside you before pulling out, a whine left your lips but soon replaced by a yelp as San smacked your ass in his palm before placing your panties and your pants back on, “It’s cold and besides …” You turn around, he brushes hair away from your sweaty face, “I don’t want you wasting what we work hard on.”

Your cheeks flared, “You must have thought of this ‘fantasy of yours for a while now eh?” San shakes his head, a smile on his lips; securing his boxers and scrub pants back on before leaning on your motorcycle, shrugging, “Maybe but I should have taken you on a date first before I knock you up.”

You whine, smacking his arms, “Stop using that term.” San’s head threw back as he laughed at your reddened face, you groaned turning your head to the side. He stops laughing little by little before sighing, grabbing your hand; pulling you between his legs, “But it’s true. I had it all planned and there’s a step by step to it … but it looks like I skipped a step.”

You look at him, pouty lips, “a lot you mean.” He chuckles heartedly, grabbing your cheeks in his large palms, caressing them, “Okay a lot but it doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna take care of you. Let me praise you, love you, worship you and let me do those things because it is my duty to make you feel special and I want you to feel you are the only girl in this damn world. You’re my girl.”

You were left speechless and San saw in your eyes the appreciation, pulling you in his arms, “I’ll kiss you after our fourth date.”

“Why not now? You already got me knocked up and we are not even on our first date.” He chuckles and this is one of the reasons why he likes you; nonchalant or straightforward. He nodded, “Okay.” He pulls you in near his warmth, his lips landing gently on yours. He took the lead to make you feel special, make you feel the most important person to him.

#ateez #ateez choi san #choi san #choi san imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #choi san smut #choi san x reader #san ateez #ateez fanfic #kpop smut

385 notes · View notes

7s3ven · 5 months

Text

LAST CHRISTMAS. tom riddle

( master list )

IN WHICH… Tom can’t fall in love, he shouldn’t be able to fall in love. So why does he love Y/N L/N with her yellow robes, doe eyes, and her obsession with snow so much that he’d kill anyone in his path to get to her?

Minor warnings : Not proof-read, kind of long, dark Tom Riddle, somewhat yandere

—

“It may be hard to believe, but there was a time where Voldemort loved someone. He was young… barely eighteen. He loved her so much… that he would kill for her. So he did. He killed every boy interested in her and every girl who tormented her. And then he turned on her. Nobody knows what happened to sweet Y/N L/N. Maybe he killed her, maybe she got away… or maybe she stayed with him and let him taint her heart.

He was a boy who knew nothing of real love while she was a girl who wanted nothing but that.”

Tom couldn’t fall in love. He physically shouldn’t be able to fall in love. He wouldn’t let himself to fall in love. He would not allow himself that wretched moment of weakness his peers all seemed to suffer from.

Every day it was always, “Riddle, will you go out with me?” His answer was always no yet these lovesick girls never learned. They all flocked to him like annoying seagulls to a single, lonely chip.

“Excuse me,” A hand suddenly tapped Tom’s shoulder. He turned around, almost glowering at the girl in front of him. Before he could reject her, she spoke up. “You, uh, left this, Riddle.”

Of course, she knew his name but he didn’t know her’s.

She held out Tom’s precious diary and he was quick to snatch it out of her grip. He observed it, narrowing his eyes slightly before he subtly nodded. “Thank… you…” The words felt strange rolling off his tongue. He had never thanked anybody. He hesitated because he didn’t know her name.

“Y/N L/N.” She uttered, smiling.

“What?”

“My name is Y/N L/N. You seemed confused… so I thought you didn’t know me.”

Tom’s eyes flickered to the prefect badge pinned proudly to her robe. He arched an eyebrow. “You… you’re a prefect?” He questioned. He had never seen her at the meetings, which was strange because he noticed everyone.

“Yeah. Head girl.” Y/N beamed again, hardly offended by the fact that Tom didn’t know her despite them being counterparts.

Tom found it strange how he didn’t know her. He was supposed to considering she was the head girl. Tom observed her, staring at Y/N’s Hufflepuff uniform and the yellow ribbons intertwined with her braided hair.

“Right.” Tom muttered, clearing his throat.

“It was a pleasure talking to you, Riddle. I’ll see you around.” Y/N was the first to walk away. Tom wasn’t used to that because normally, he did that. He stared at Y/N’s back, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Everybody was frightened by Tom’s cold demeanour, but not Y/N. She had approached him so casually without a second thought.

Tom shook his head, sighing under his breath. “Hufflepuffs.”

The next time Tom stumbled upon Y/N was when she had been cornered by three Slytherin girls. He recognized the ringleader as the girl he had rejected last week.

“Stay away from Tom.” The silver-haired girl grumbled, invading Y/N’s personal space. Y/N didn’t seem at all phased. She just smiled as she stared into the girl’s bright blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Y/N questioned, innocently tilting her head to the side.

“Just stay away from Tom, got it?” The Slytherin girl repeated, her glare hardening.

Tom cleared his throat from behind the trio, making his presence known. “Is there a problem here?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

The trio of Slytherin girls instantly recognized his voice. “Riddle!” The ringleader exclaimed, jumping. She nervously smiled. “We were just helping L/N here. She needed help with… uh…” She trailed off, her eyes wildly darting around.

“Her makeup!” One of her friends piped up, “She likes a boy and wanted our help!”

The third girl quickly nodded and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders, pushing her forward. “Isn’t she pretty? Imagine how pretty she would be with makeup!”

Tom’s stare hardened. He glanced down at Y/N, his lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s pretty enough as is.” He spoke, reaching out to grasp a strand of Y/N’s hair. “Well, I’ll be needing her. Prefect business, you understand?” Tom ripped Y/N from the girl’s grasp and led her down the long, winding hallway.

“Do you always have to deal with those pests?” Tom questioned, looking at Y/N once more.

“They aren’t that bad. They were worse in first year.” She smiled but that didn’t comfort Tom.

“You shouldn’t let them push you around. I’ll talk to them and make sure they never bother you again.” Tom furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Y/N uttered, but Tom didn’t hear her. He was already walking off, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Y/N frowned. “I hope he doesn’t kill them… he looks like the type.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “No. He wouldn’t murder anybody. He’s the head boy.” She walked off in the opposite direction, quietly humming under her breath, unknown to the horrors Tom was committing with his damn pet snake.

Y/N strutted into the Great Hall, ready to eat dinner and gossip about useless things with her friends. But when she approached her companions, she was overwhelmed with their questions.

“Y/N, did you hear about the attacks?”

“I heard those three Slytherin bullies were targeted.”

“Well, they kind of deserved it. It’s not like they’re fully dead. They’re just stone.”

Y/N sat down, confused. “What happened?” And asked, tilting her head to the side.

Bella was the first to explain. “You know those three Slytherin girls who are always picking on you? They were all found turned to stone.” She looked around to make sure nobody was listening before she leaned forward and whispered, “The professors say it wasn’t a hex so they don’t really know what to do.”

“Oh… that’s…” Y/N couldn’t muster up any words. She glanced over at Tom, who was drinking out of his golden goblet. He locked eyes with her and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

“Did they find the perpetrator?” Y/N questioned, looking at Bella.

“No. I heard a few students talking about some sort of chamber but I wasn’t close enough to hear anything else.”

For the rest of dinner, Y/N was distracted by the way Tom kept glancing over at her. She felt a sick feeling in her stomach and she tried to convince herself that Tom played no part in this whole mess.

“I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Y/N stiffly smiled as she drank the last of her water from her cup.

Y/N quickly stood up, speed-walking out of hall. She heard someone following her and she spun around, hoping it wasn’t Tom. Luckily, it wasn’t.

It was a Gryffindor boy with messy black hair and stunning blue eyes. He grinned at her. “Y/N L/N, right?”

She slowly nodded.

“Listen, I’ve been interested in you for a while and I don’t want you to feel inclined to accepting my offer, but I would love if you would come to Hogsmeade with me.”

Y/N awkwardly smiled. “Ah, sorry, I’m a little busy. Maybe next time?” She suggested, trying to brush past the boy. But he grasped her wrist

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“You heard her the first time. She’s busy.” Tom had walked to stand behind the boy, towering over him with a mean glare.

“Right.” The Gryffindor thickly swallowed, “I’ll be on my way, then.” He scurried off, almost tripping over his robes.

“You didn’t have to scare him off.” Y/N murmured as she spared Tom a look before resuming her walk to the Hufflepuff common room. Tom followed after her, which unsettled Y/N.

She should have been placed in Gryffindor with how brave she was to eventually confront Tom. “What did you do with those Slytherin girls?” She softly inquired.

She heard Tom chuckle. “I didn’t do anything. Trust me.”

“It’s a bit hard to trust you when you smirked at me like that.” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

“I never touched those girls. I merely gave them a warning before leaving them. And next thing I know, they were turned to stone. Some Ravenclaw first year found them.”

Y/N stared into Tom’s eyes, looking for any indication that he was lying. It was a bit hard to read him considering he barely had any emotions. But there was a gleam in his usually blank eyes.

“Okay.” She whispered, despite not fully believing him.

Tom had ended up walking Y/N to her common room and she politely nodded. “Good night, Riddle.”

“Call me Tom. Good night, Y/N.”

Rowan, the poor Gryffindor boy who had asked Y/N out, was the next target. Though, he wasn’t found turned to stone. His body was entirely mutilated and Y/N took pity on the third year girl who had discovered his body in the bathroom.

Y/N sat with Bella, pushing her food around on her silver plate. On instinct, she glanced at Tom. He had that same infuriating smirk and this time, he slightly raised his goblet. His actions made his friends laugh.

“I’m leaving for class early. See you at lunch, Bella.”

Her friend hummed, too busy staring at a boy from across the room to notice Y/N’s uneasiness.

Y/N stiffened as she saw Tom stand up out of the corner of her eye. She tried to speed walk away but he easily caught up to her.

“What did you do do him?” She asked, referring to Rowan. He had no enemies and Tom was the only person Y/N could think of. After all, the head boy hadn’t seemed too pleased to see Y/N talking with Rowan.

“Accusing me again? There’s an actual murderer on the loose and instead, you’re pointing fingers at me?” Tom let out a small scoff while Y/N silently stared up at him. “I’m head boy. Do you really think I would decapitate a body?”

“Nobody said anything about the body being decapitated.”

“I saw it. As head boy, I was at the scene.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes while Tom mentally cursed at his mistake. Hufflepuffs were usually easy to gaslight, but not Y/N. And that annoyed Tom.

“They’re still observing the body but I wouldn’t be walking alone if I were you. This attacker seems to be targeting people who are,” Tom took a step closer to Y/N, “All alone.”

Tom cunningly grinned as he shrugged. “Enjoy your walk, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t want to take any chances with Tom since he was her prime suspect. But if he was the murderer, why wasn’t she his next victim? She was alone and the castle was deserted. Now would be the perfect time.

Tom chuckled as the cogs in Y/N’s head started moving. He was going to strut away from the Hufflepuff but Y/N was quick to grab his sleeve.

“Walk me to class.” She demanded. For the first time in a long time, Tom felt his cheeks heat up. And strange enough, he felt a jolt of lightning pass through his body when Y/N’s grasped him.

He concealed those odd emotions. “With pleasure.”

Potions was their first class. Usually, Gryffindors and Slytherins were put together but this year the school decided to mix it up. Classes were now decided on a student’s academic record. And lucky for Tom, all of his courses were with Y/N. Never had he been so glad that one of his peers had almost beaten him for the spot of top student.

Y/N tried to sit away from Tom but he dragged her to a table near his friends. She nervously sat down, tapping her foot against the floor.

She could feel someone burning holes into her back with their glare and Y/N looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with a Ravenclaw girl. She sneered at Y/N.

The H/C-haired teenager slowly turned her head to look at her textbook, but her peace was short lived when a cauldron came crashing down on her head.

It hit her with such force that her head jolted forward and slammed against the wooden table. A sickening crack was heard and the class went silent.

Tom and his friends were the first to react. Avery lifted Y/N and helped her sit up. Her nose was heavily bleeding and the crimson liquid dribbled down her chin, staining the pages of her new and crisp book.

Malfoy held his hands underneath her chin to catch most of the blood while Avery dapped at Y/N’s nose with the sleeve of his robe.

Rosier grabbed the cauldron, slamming it back down in front of the Ravenclaw. At that very moment, Professor Slughorn entered.

He observed the bizarre scene, effortlessly piecing everything together. “Tom, my boy, please escort Miss L/N to the hospital wing. You may bring Mr Avery and Mr Malfoy with you. Rosier, Mulciber, Nott, Lestrange, I want a full explanation of what happened.” Slughorn turned to the Ravenclaw, “Miss Li, I will also require your explanation.”

Hyehi Li, the girl who had thrown the cauldron at Y/N’s head, was gone. She was found by the Ravenclaw Quidditch up on the roof, impaled onto a sharp spear. The students of Hogwarts were growing restless. Parents wanted to collect their kids but the murderer could be anybody, staff or student. Therefore, it was imperative that the professors worked fast to track the attacker down.

Y/N sat in her dorm, thinking to herself. All of the people attacked were connected to her. The three Slytherin girls had bullied her, Rowan had somewhat flirted with her, and Hyehi had injured Y/N. And Tom was there to witness all three incidents.

There wasn’t anybody else who could be doing these things. Y/N was also aware of Tom’s fascination with the dark arts.

It was Christmas Eve and since the school couldn’t technically hold the students in the castle over the holiday, they had no choice but to let them go.

Y/N’s parents were on a trip right now, so she had to stay behind. Not many students wanted to stay at Hogwarts, but Y/N knew Tom and his posse would be roaming the halls.

She was nervous to walk out of the common room, but she was hungry, even at this time when it was close to midnight, and the kitchen was so close.

“L/N!” A voice Y/N didn’t recognize suddenly called out. She turned around, watching a Slytherin boy jog towards her. She recognized him as a year below her.

“Ah… you shouldn’t be talking to me, it’s not safe.” Y/N had come to the conclusion that any boy or girl who teased or flirted with her was in serious trouble if Tom ever found in.

“Why? I just wanted to say happy Christmas Eve. And thanks for helping me with my homework this year. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Y/N stiffly smiled and nodded her head. “You’re welcome. Good bye.” Y/N wanted to leave but the boy blocked her path.

“Do you have anybody to celebrate Christmas with? You’re always welcome in the Slytherin common room. Riddle seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Speak of the devil, Y/N could hear Avery’s loud laughs from just around the corner. And where Avery was, Tom and his friends were sure to follow.

Y/N’s eyes slightly widened. “Please leave me alone… for your sake.” She whispered, trying to brush past him. But the boy didn’t seem to sense the urgency in Y/N’s voice as he grabbed her shoulder just as Tom came into sight.

A feeling of dread overcame Y/N as Tom approached the pair. “Onyx.” He greeted the boy by the last name. “What business do you have with Y/N?”

Onyx, as oblivious as ever, smiled. “I was just thanking her for helping me. And I was going to invite her to spend Christmas in the Slytherin chamber.”

Tom narrowed his eyes as he slowly nodded. “… I see. We’ll have to finish decorating the tree then. Come on.” Tom guided Onyx with a firm hand on his back. Y/N’s breath trembled and finally having had enough of being connected to all the murders, she silently followed Tom and his friends and Onyx.

There was a loud bang and as Y/N peeked around the corner, she almost gasped. Avery, the supposed sweet boy who had helped her with her bloody nose, had just knocked Onyx out cold.

“Let’s get this over with quickly. I have some matters to attend to.” Tom pulled out his wand, pointing the tip at Onyx. “Avada Kedavra.” There was a blinding flash of green light and then all was still.

Y/N stumbled back. She quickly sprinted off, making sure to be quiet and not leave anything behind. She burst into the Hufflepuff common room and began to wildly knock on every door.

“Why is no one here?!” She exclaimed, pounding her fist against the wall. “The headmaster and Slughorn are gone too! And Dumbledore- Wait, I can tell Dumbledore!”

She rushed to the exit but crashed into a tall figure. She fell back, hitting her head.

“You didn’t think you would actually get away, did you?” It was just Tom this time. His friends were nowhere to be seen.

Y/N scrambled back but Tom easily outstretched a hand, grabbing her collar and pulling her up. “I got you a gift.” He said, handing Y/N a narrowly wrapped present as soon as the clock struck midnight.

“If it’s part of a body, I don’t want it.”

Tom merely smiled. “Open it and find out.”

Y/N opened the lid a tiny bit, jumping when she saw a pure white snake inside. It hissed and bared it’s sharp fangs at her.

“Sweet dreams, amour.” Tom uttered, stepping forward and knocking the present out of Y/N’s grasp. The box fell and the snake swiftly slithered over to Y/N’s ankle. “I love you.”

He harshly pressed his lips to Y/N’s just as the snake opened its mouth and sank its fangs into her flesh.

“Is this really the best way to do it?” Avery questioned as him and Lestrange pulled a wooden plank from their dorm floor. “We could just hide her dead body in a closet. Though, eventually, her corpse is going to rot and stink.”

Tom, from his position on his bed, tilted his head to the side. “Who said anything about her being dead?”

Nott arched an eyebrow and laughed. “She’s not actually alive, is she? Because stuffing her in there would be cruel.”

“Since when did you care about being cruel?” Tom retorted, “To be honest, I’m not actually sure whether she’s dead or not. I checked her pulse and there was none but her heart is still beating. It’s… strange. And fascinating.”

Tom’s lips curled into a smirk.

Y/N was shoved beneath the floor boards right next to Tom’s bed. He lay down, closing his eyes and listening to the dull thumping beat of Y/N’s heart.

All that happened last year. Y/N’s body was never found and Hogwarts lost a bright student. Tom’s friends could never hear Y/N’s heartbeat but Tom could.

He heard it at night when he was cramming in some late night study.

He heard it when he was kissing another girl in his bed and it reminded him of who his heart belonged to.

He heard it as he descended into a dark madness that not even Dumbledore could stop.

And he heard it as he yelled the very same spell he had yelled at Onyx on that fateful night at Harry Potter. Up in the castle, Y/N’s body still lay shoved deep under.

As Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort, faded into nothing, he could hear Y/N’s heartbeat get louder and louder and he was reminded of what he had done to the sweet Hufflepuff.

That was her last Christmas and she had spent it under the floor, dead but not fully, never to be found or seen or heard from again.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart… but the very next day you stuffed it underneath the floorboards with the rest of my corpse until the sound of my heartbeat intensified your descent into madness.”

#tom riddle #harry potter x reader #hogwarts houses #slytherin #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #tom riddle x reader #voldemort #lord voldemort #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #xreader #malfoy manor #draco malfoy #ron weasley #harry potter fanfiction

650 notes · View notes

plainemmanem · 2 years

Note

Can you do a Steve Harrington request about to kiss trope with the dialogue “you’re staring” “so are you”?

stevie in his silly little family video vest with his silly little name-tag, answering his silly little calls with his silly little customer service voice <3

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

You’re so fucking pretty.

It hurts, honestly. When Steve’s eyes trail over to you at work.

It’s painful.

You’re not even doing anything. You’re literally restocking the shelves and you look so fucking beautiful it hurts.

Light streams in from the front window, illuminating your skin. The beauty marks and imperfections up your arms, your wrists, your collarbones.

It takes everything in him not to reach out and feel your warmth every shift.

The front door opens with a ding, indicating a customer, but Steve can’t tear his eyes away from you. The door closes, letting in a gust of wind and ruffling the soft ends of your hair, shooting a shiver up your spine. His hand clenched the mouse a bit tighter upon seeing the slight goosebumps traveling up your arm.

He tears his eyes away for a brief moment to keep up appearances, glancing at the computer screen. His eyes are back on you a second later, his teeth nibbling at his bottom lip as he watches you scratch at an old sticker on one of the tapes absentmindedly.

Your uniform is a little tattered, your shirt hangs off one of your shoulders and a bit of your bra strap peaks out at him. A hand comes up to readjust your neckline as you crouch down to start on the tapes on the bottom shelf.

Old, scuffed sneakers adorn your feet, and Steve nearly loses his mind when he notices the socks you have on. They have a ruffled edge, hugging your ankle, and little hearts peak up over your shoe as you kneel down.

His eyes were back on the computer screen again, not even reading the words, just scanning his eyes across letters and hoping that his staring isn’t too obvious. He’s been harboring a crush ever since you started.

When Robin had mentioned a few weeks ago that one of her friends would be applying, Steve’s curiosity was peaked, and it was all downhill from there.

“What’s she like?” He leaned onto the counter right next to her suggestively, one arm holding him up and the other resting on his hip. A brow quirked up.

As she scribbled in 4-down, she glanced up at him. She caught his overly-interested gaze, immediately slamming her puzzle book closed.

"No! No, Steve, don't even give me that look," she scolded, a warning hand held up in his direction as she walked away from the counter and towards the back room.

Steve's face dropped to pure confusion.

"What?" he shouted at her retreating form. "What look?"

Robin spun abruptly, shooting him a stern look and an accusatory finger.

"That look you get anytime I mention anyone I know who's a girl." She was stalking back over to him now, angrily. "You get this, this... King Steve look all over your face and I will not be indulging you this time-"

She spun again, heading to the back room with much more purpose than before. Steve quickly followed after her.

"'King Steve look? Wh-"

Robin continued her previous rant, cutting him off over her shoulder.

“I am not letting you get your grubby little guy hands all over her. I actually like this girl; she's cool and funny, and way outta your league might I add-"

"Thanks-"

Robin swings the back door open, dropping it in Steve's face. He catches it with his palm, mouth pressing into an annoyed line.

"And I don't want our friendship to be ruined because you... tainted her."

She stalked towards the cart full of returns and white-knuckled the handle bar, once again shooting Steve a warning look.

"C'mon now, 'tainted' seems a little harsh-"

"And she could possibly be coming to work here, and I just don't wanna ruin the one good girl friendship I have right now."

She was still clearly annoyed, but her face fell a little in defeat, well aware of Steve's track record with the other girls Robin's introduced him to.

Ever since Nancy, Steve's been a bit of a player. A bad one, but a player none the less. The most recent girl was Louise — Robin's lab partner. Robin hasn't talked to Louise in a while, not after Steve's disastrous date with her last Friday. Chemistry has been particularly awkward.

Steve's face fell at Robin's concern. He really did feel bad about Louise, and all the other girls Robin's had to cut ties with because of him.

"Right..." Steve stuffed his hands into his jeans, sneaker scuffing the grimy carpet beneath his feet. "Yeah, right, I'm sorry." He looked up at her seriously, hoping to get across his sincerity without too many words.

"It's alright, Steve. I... I know things have been kinda weird for you."

Nancy. Everything led back to Nancy, and Steve was sick of it.

He took a tentative step towards her, arm coming out to grab onto her elbow, fixing her with a serious gaze.

"No funny business from me, alright? Nothing more than a handshake, I swear."

She gave him a half-hopeful, half-skeptical look, before letting out a breath.

"Promise?" she questioned, sticking her pinky up to him.

He latched his pinky with hers, squeezing just a tad.

"Promise."

Turns out, that promise would grow painfully difficult to keep.

——————————————————————————

You'd only been working at Family Video for about two weeks, and already Steve was a lovesick puppy around you. Of course, he always denied it, but it seemed to be obvious to just about everyone just how helpless he was for you.

Always offering you rides to work, even though you lived twenty minutes out of his way. Hiding any mistakes you make from Keith, even if it means staying an hour late to rearrange the horror section. Hell, he'd give you the shirt off his back if you asked.

But, today had been particularly challenging. It was just you, Robin, and Steve.

"Why don't you take a picture?" Robin huffs, dropping a stack of tapes on the counter next to the computer. Steve’s eyesquickly snap from you to the exasperated girl beside him. "It'll last longer." She mutters to him, turning around to peak over at you.

Steve's cheeks felt hot, but he tried to play it cool, eyes now locked with the computer screen.

"I dunno what you mean." His attempt to sound causal comes out a little stilted and he winced a little to himself.

"Oh, please," she grunts as she hops up on the counter. "You moon after her just about every time you see her. I'm surprised she hasn't quit yet."

A nervous chill runs up his spine and his blood runs cold, both at the idea of you quitting and the idea that you possibly know of his little crush. Sure, you’ve dropped a few sneaky hints — little remarks here and there that you may mirror his affections — but Steve was always too afraid to get his hopes up.

In his peripheral, Steve watches you gather up the rest of the tapes, now making your way towards the counter. He begins running through some lines in his head. How's it going? Too basic. How's restockin'? Too dorky. Have I mentioned I might be in love with you—

"Hey, guys." Your chipper tone rings out as you head behind the counter, your stack of tapes wobbling.

Steve drops the mouse immediately at your voice and turns to look at you — trying extremely hard to appear casual — when he spots the tapes slowly shifting in your arms. He rushes over, grabbing the stack and righting them for you, peeking around to give you a sheepish look.

"Heh, thanks." You shoot him a shy, grateful look as he takes the top half of the stack. "You'd think after working here for two weeks now, I'd get the hang of the whole restocking thing." You laugh nervously and set your half of the tapes on the counter next to Robin, shooting her an embarrassed grimace.

"Oh, don't worry. Stevie, here, has been working here for months now and he still has yet to learn how to hang a window display."

Steve shoots Robin a warning look from behind your back, but his anger drops upon hearing a small giggle leave your lips. You spin back around to face him with a warm smile, arms crossing over your chest smugly.

"That's funny, cause just the other day, our boy Steve said it was you who couldn’t figure it out."

A shocked gasp comes from Robin and you can hear her feet hit the ground as she hops off the counter, then her stomping towards the guilty-looking boy.

"Steve!" She hit him in the shoulder.

"Oow!" He said it almost like a question, like a “What was that for?"

"You." Smack. "Are." Smack. "Such." Smack. "A." Smack. "Dick." Smack.

"Jesus, Robs, could you-" his remark dies on his lips a tad at the sound of your cackling. He gives you a smarmy look as your eyes twist shut and your arms cross your middle in laughter. Quickly, he catches himself staring once again, and turns his annoyance back on Robin. "Could ya not hit me so hard?"

She storms off towards the back once again.

"Please?" Steve calls out after her, arms raised theatrically in the air. He turns his gaze back on you, fixing you with an exasperated look. But, he can’t stay mad for long when you're smiling so big at him.

"You just had to tell her, didn't you?" He sighs, a little to exaggeratedly to be genuine, and you chuckle as he turns back to the computer. "I bruise easily, ya know."

You shuffle a bit closer towards him as you peak at the computer screen. The warmth of your front seeps into his arm and his grip on the mouse gets a touch tighter.

"Sorry, but my loyalties lie with her." You tease, reading all the returns on the screen. "Oh, geez, we're not gonna get Dirty Dancing back in? Shit."

"You're telling me you'd pick Robin over me in a fight?" He peaks down at you with furrowed brows. Then he turns back to the screen disappointedly. "Yeah, it sucks. I really liked that one too; Swayze's so fucking cool," he mumbles to himself.

You chuckle at the duel conversations taking place and turn to lean against the counter next to him, a little close for comfort.

"I mean, I've known Robin longer, so yeah, I suppose I’d choose her... You like Swayze? The guy seems a little pompous to me." Your shoulders shrug as you look towards the back of the store, avoiding Steve's gaze. You’re well aware of Steve's love for Swayze.

"Wh— ‘Pompous?' That better mean, 'one of the coolest guys on the planet.' Have you seen him in The Outsiders— You know what— No, you cannot distract me with your distaste for Swayze." He closes his eyes and shakes his head to right himself before turning fully to face you. "You're telling me, just because you've known Robin longer, if I asked you who you liked better, you would pick Robin over me?"

You contemplate for a minute, exaggeratedly - holding your chin and squinting your eyes dramatically.

"Hmm, I dunno. I mean, what do you have to offer that she doesn’t?"

"What do I have— Ok." His hands go up, ready to give you the rundown. "One," he counts out on his fingers, "I'm extremely funny—"

"Well, I feel that goes without saying," you quip.

"Two, I have a car—"

"No explanation needed."

"Three, I'm unbearably generous. I give you half of my lunch every time you forget to bring something—"

"Even though I tell you not to."

"And four, I'm painfully good-looking. Have you seen the hair?"

"And modest, too."

You give him a smug smirk, and he returns it with an irritated look, a smile still creeping onto his features.

You're so smart. And quick-witted. And pretty. And sweet. And— oh god, where is Robin?

Steve breaks eye-contact with you and glances around the store, desperately searching for Robin. He can't be alone with you for this long.

He peaks at his watch. 4:58. Thank god. Two minutes until he can leave. Of course, he doesn't really want to leave. He'd spend all day here with you if he could, but he's been trying really hard to keep things friendly, and he really doesn't know how long he'll be able to contain himself if you keep being so... you.

"You ok?" you question, a touch of concern creeping onto your features.

"Huh?" He looks back at you, eyes wide. "Oh, uh, no, yeah, I'm all good, I think I'm just gonna head out now." He rambles, walking out from behind the counter, a little too quick to be just casual.

"Aren't you gonna clock out?" You ask humorously, tilting your head towards the computer, your forearms resting on the counter coolly.

"Oh," he spins back around, an embarrassed blush crawling up his neck. "Yeah, right."

He shuffles back to the computer and opens the timecard software.

"Duh," he utters to himself absentmindedly, still trying to appear nonchalant.

"Duh." You mimic, a touch of amusement slipping into your tone.

He hits a few stray buttons and clocks himself out, turning to face you one last time.

You're close — really close — and Steve starts to freak out a bit, running his fingers through his hair and taking a tentative step back, bumping into the counter behind him.

"Well, uh," he chuckles nervously, "I-I'll see ya."

A smile ghosts over your features, and you take a small step towards him, just an inch or two away from his front. Leisurely, your warm palm comes up to rest on his bicep, just above the elbow, right on his bare skin.

He goes a bit frantic, eyes snapping down to the spot where you two meet, then back up to your eyes, a touch of helplessness in his expression.

You lean slightly into his chest, dropping your voice an octave, your breath fanning over his neck.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Steve." A little smirk graces over your lips and Steve jerks into action, sliding out from the counter and all but jogging to the front door, your warm touch on his arm still burning his skin.

"Uh, yeah," he raises his voice, walking backwards towards the door to maintain eye contact with you. "Bye! I'll uh, see you tomorrow, ok? Bye, Rob!" He turns on his heel, lifting his hand in the air to wave goodbye to you over his shoulder before he shoves the door open, running out into the parking lot, hands rubbing over his face frustratedly.

Just then, Robin pops out from the back; you're still staring after the vest-clad boy as he hops into his car.

"Someone's in a hurry," she mutters, alluding to his hasty exit. "What was that about?"

You smirk to yourself, watching as Steve rakes another hand through his hair, peaking back at the store and locking eyes with you for a brief moment. He immediately looks away, starting the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

A chuckle leaves you.

"Think I make him nervous."

——————————————————————————

The next day is even worse.

With Keith hiding away in the back, it's been just you and Steve out front all day.

You definitely know. You have to know the effect you have on him, especially after his behavior yesterday.

Steve's usually never this jumpy, but something about your soft touch and your melodic voice and your sickeningly sweet smell sets him off.

It doesn’t help the store is completely empty.

Absolutely bored out of his mind, Steve gives himself a little shake before focusing back on the computer before him, scanning over the list of names.

The Terminator - 10/10 CHECKED OUT

Pretty In Pink - 8/10 CHECKED OUT

Dirty Dancing - NO LONGER AVAILABLE

Blue Velvet - 6/10 CHECKED OUT

He peeks at his watch. Still about three more hours, and he's already run out of things to do. A sigh rakes through him as he mindlessly turns his eyes back to the log.

Labyrinth - NO LONGER AVAILABLE

True Stories - 1/10 CHECKED OUT

Eyes beginning to glaze over, the words no longer hold any meaning. He's just scrolling and scrolling through the list now, aimlessly trying to appear busy, when some movement behind the screen catches his eye.

Bunches of tapes are being placed in a stack towards the front of the store by gentle, purposeful hands. Your hands.

Today you're wearing your vest over a band t-shirt that Steve doesn't recognize. His jacket is draped over your shoulders - he insisted you use it after he saw your shiver when you walked in today, claiming he wasn't cold, as goosebumps pricked up his arms. The light grey of the jacket pairs well with your dark, bell-bottom jeans, a staple in your wardrobe that Steve has quickly come to recognize. The back pockets have small, embroidered flowers and you love to stick the old stickers on the thigh once you peel them off old returns. New dangly earrings glimmer through your hair as you work. Steve been waiting to mention them; he was just thinking of a non-creepy way to bring it up.

With the display finished, you gathered up the rest of the tapes and extra signs and headed to the counter. Steve quickly made himself look busy.

"Workin' hard or hardly workin'?" You tease as you make your way behind the register, setting the extra supplies on a lower shelf, out of view of the customers.

"Oh, you know me. I just... love doing inventory." He gave you a playful smirk, which you return knowingly.

"I know its a passion of yours," you chuckle and crouch down a bit, riffling through the cupboards until you find what you're looking for.

Steve hums, turning back to the keys and clacking away, trying desperately to get a peek at what you have in his peripheral.

You toss a pen and Robin’s old crossword book on the counter and shoot him a look.

"Think she'll mind?" you ask, leaning against the counter and making yourself comfortable.

Steve shrugs, "We'll just tell her it was Keith."

You chuckle and flip the book open. Your tongue pops out quickly as you lick your index finger for a better grip on the pages. Steve swallows a bit rougher then normal.

"You good at crosswords?" you ask nonchalantly as you flip to an empty page.

"Not particularly. Robin's usually the brains of the operation."

"You wanna help? I'm awful. Maybe if we stick our brainpower together, we'll have one working braincell." You smirk at your own joke and start to read through the clues up the side.

A small hum leaves him as he slides into your side. He's touching you, but only slightly, his jacket brushing against his arm as he leans over your shoulder to read the book himself.

"Ah, 11-down," he points it out on the paper, "'Sunburn treatment.' Sunscreen, easy."

"Steve,” you snort, “11-down is only four letters." You chuckle, filling in the word. Aloe. Peaking over your shoulder, you shoot a smirk his way.

"Right, right. I was just testing you."

"Right, uh-huh. Sure," you mutter, giggling to yourself.

"Ok, ok, here. 26-across.” He’s a bit more confident this time. “'Waterloo singers.' ABBA."

You side-eye him. "You know ABBA, Stevie?"

"Well— I mean, I've heard a couple songs."

Your eyes glint at him. "Right."

"Just fill it in." He huffs, leaning back down over your shoulder to lock eyes with the book.

The smell of your shampoo fills his nose and it takes everything in him not to reach out and pull your hair to the side to get a look at your pretty neck.

Clearing his throat a little, turns back to the stack of things you shoved away earlier under the register.

"Ok, what about this one. 65-across. 'God of Love.'"

He stops and thinks for a moment, stumped.

"I'm terrible with shit like this,” he mutters. “I dunno… Aphrodite?"

"God, Steve, not Goddess. Four letters... Maybe Eros?"

"See. You're smart. Why would you need my help?" he asks, gathering up the supplies for the next display and heading to the front window.

"Cause you looked bored. Thought I might entertain you." You follow after him, crossword and pen still in hand.

Once you reach the window, you grab his arm and stop him, holding the book out towards him.

"Here, trade me," you say, shoving the pen into his hand and taking the supplies from his arms. "I'm better at the display stuff anyways."

Steve blushes just a tad, remembering Robin’s teasing from yesterday.

"Right," he drops his eyes to the puzzle as you start organizing your supplies. "30-across, 'Bubbles.'"

"How many letters?" you grunt, stretching up on your top toes to hang a sign. Your shirt rides up just a tad, your soft skin emerging. His eyes snap back to the book.

"Um, four."

"Suds." You bend down, grabbing the clear masking tape. He fills in the four boxes with the black ink and turns his gaze back to you. Looking down, Steve's stomach flips just a little, noticing the edge soft edge of lace peaking out from your jeans.

Suddenly, the monotonous ring of the phone snaps him out of his thoughts. After a few rings, you turn and glance up at him.

"Gonna get that?" you ask innocently, and he has to stop his thoughts from racing once again.

"Uh, y-yeah, right." He hands you the pen and book and jogs lightly over towards the phone.

Leaning over the counter, he grabs the handset, readying his customer service voice.

"Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve." Slowly, he starts extending the cord and working his way around to the back of the counter, keeping the phone clutched to his ear. "How can I help you today?"

"Hello, young man," the woman's old, raspy voice crinkled through the other end and Steve inwardly groaned. "Do you think you could recommend something for an old timer like me?"

Steve rests his elbows, preparing himself for a long conversation.

"Well," he grabs the slinky from the shelf below the register, "do you have anything particular in mind, ma'am?"

"Well… I'm not too sure..."

He sighs silently, shuffling around the slinky and looking back up at you.

You had been staring, and you shoot him a little smile when you lock eyes.

"Old?" you mouth to him exaggeratedly.

He rolls his eyes. "Ancient," he mouths back, much to your amusement. You spin on your heel and start grabbing more signs to hang in the window.

"Well, the first time I called, a young man recommended some war picture. Something about the air force? ‘Top of the Gun’ or something like that." That was most definitely Steve. "I just hated it... And the second time I called, a young woman pointed me towards a charming little picture about a young man in love with his boss's mistress. The one with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine?" Definitely Robin. "Now, that one was just wonderful. Reminds me of something I would watch as a child. Way back when, movie tickets were only a nickel. A nickel! Can you believe that—"

It seems like the old woman was simply looking for some one to talk to. Steve started zoning out again as the old woman droned on through the headset.

Looking up, he spots you, kneeling down, grabbing the last of the signs and finally standing up a life size cut-out of Howard the Duck.

Steve was staring again.

He couldn’t help it. You were dynamic. He just couldn't tear his eyes off you, even as you crouched down to grab the crossword you set at your feet.

Studying the puzzle, you slowly brought the pen to your lips, nibbling on the end gently, before spinning it in your fingers to scribble in a word or two.

Your movements, your gestures, everything was mesmerizing about you.

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you lean against a nearby shelf, continuing your pondering. Your foot bounced on the ground mindlessly as you tapped the pen to your lips, humming some tune to yourself that Steve struggles to make out. Prince? Bananarama? He couldn't quite tell.

As he strained his ears towards you, the old woman's voice slowly started drifting back to him.

"And then, once the price of oil went up in the 70's, no one was prepared for inflation by the time the 80's rolled around. How old are you, young man? You can't be more than, what, 17?"

Too busy staring after you, he quickly jerked back into the conversation.

"Oh- um, uh, I'm 19, ma'am. 20 in April."

"Right. So you've never known what it's like to live through something as scary as the Great Depression. Well, lemme just tell you-"

And she lost him again, his eyes creeping back over to something more interesting.

You were hunched over the crossword, hair draping over your shoulder and hiding your face. Your scribbling was much more intense now. You must be nearly done.

Quickly, you stuffed the pen in your book and gathered up the tape gun and the extra signs and headed to the back of the store. You gave Steve a small scrunch of the nose as you approached and he silently held up his hand, making it talk as he mouthing"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah," earning a giggle from you.

You held up the spare supplies in your hands and nodded towards the backroom, checking to make sure that was their correct storage place. Steve gave you a little nod in confirmation and you shot him a small smile, heading off.

Just as you walked past the counter, a page from your crossword fluttered from the book to the ground.

Still on the phone, Steve was unable to call after you, so instead he lengthened the cord again, shimmying around the counter again, phone still clutched in his hand.

"Uh-huh, right, of course," he mindlessly indulged the woman on the other end as he tucked the handset between his shoulder and his ear, kneeling down to collect the dropped page.

Curious to see if you solved it, he flipped it over, inspecting the small boxes.

The puzzle was certainly complete, but it definitely was not correct.

Every word, down and across, was filled with the words "QUIT STARING" over and over again in your perfect script.

A blush crept up his neck and slithered over his cheeks.

He's been caught.

Nearly dropping the phone, he looks up after you.

There you were, peaking through the break room window, smirking back at him.

——————————————————————————

A couple weeks later, and Steve felt like he might pass out.

Tonight's the first night you and Steve would be closing together. Alone. No Robin, no Keith. Just you and him. All afternoon.

He's tried not to think about it — a slow Tuesday night, no one else in the store but you and him, no one else to stop him from doing something rash. Instead, he's been trying all day to keep things as platonic as possible.

But you keep pushing it.

A subtle brush on his arm as you clock in next to him. Your fingers grazing over his as you take a stack of tapes from his hands. Sneaking in between him and a shelf, your back pressing against his front just a bit too hard to be accidental.

He's been really trying to keep his promise with Robin. But his self-restrain was wearing thin.

Somehow, he’s made it all the way to close, only had a few tasks left before he could finally escape your watchful eyes and your sweet perfume and your accidental touches.

Steve quickly locked the doors and you two got to work finishing up any miscellaneous tasks you couldn’t complete earlier.

You were both in the horror section, shelving a plethora of Chopping Mall tapes in a comfortable silence, the soft music over the store's speakers deafened slightly by the rain tapping against the store’s front windows.

"Did you have lunch today, Steve?" you shatter the silence, not turning your attention away from restocking.

He peaks over at you, trying — and failing — to mirror your casual tone.

"Uh… No, I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" you turn to him, and he simply shrugs.

"Forgot it at home," he turns to face you, catching your baffled expression.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, a little hurt.

Another shrug. "Didn't wanna bother you with something stupid like 'I forgot my lunch.'"

You squint your eyes at him a little, expression becoming unreadable. Clasping your fingers into his, and you spin towards the real room.

"C'mere," you huff, pulling him behind you.

Not only is he confused, but now his brain's turned to mush from your hand molded into his.

God, why does he get butterflies just from holding your hand? He's gone soft.

You push open the back door and haul him inside, pushing him gently towards the chair in the back. He sits reluctantly as you spin to grab the brown bag you brought for lunch. Riffling through it for a moment, suddenly you pull out a plump, uneaten orange, waving it beside you with an excited grin.

Taking a step towards him, you nudge his knee with your own.

"Scooch. There's only one chair back here and I do not wanna sit on the ground. Who knows what Keith gets up to back here," you mumble quickly, starting to peel the citrusy fruit, the scent already filling the room.

He scooted over a little, offering half the seat to you, and you plopped down beside him, thigh flush with his. Your fingers work deftly as you finish and discard the peel in the wastebasket next to your feet. Gently, you begin to break apart the slices, offering him the first wedge.

"Listen, I don't wanna eat your lunch," he begins to shove your hand away, much to your annoyance. "You have it."

"We’ll split it, ok.” You give him an adamant look, hoping to persuade him. He still looks skeptical. "I won’t be able to finish it by myself. I’d hate to throw it away," you insist.

Deflating slightly, Steve folds, taking the slice and popping it in his mouth. The zing of the fruit makes his lips pucker a tad and he swears it's one of the sweetest oranges he's ever tasted.

You take one of your own, humming at the taste, before proffering another. He takes the next, another comfortable silence blanketing over the two of you, the slight sound of rain overhead.

The heat of your thigh mixed with the combined smell of you and the orange had him in a tizzy and he was struggling to come up with any topics of conversation.

Only one thing came to mind, and it was a little risky. But, hell, now was as good a time as any, right?

"You're my favorite person, I think," he mumbles around a bite of orange, breaking the silence. He can feel you tense just a bit beside him and he panics, backtracking. "In the store. My favorite coworker."

Smooth.

A small hum leaves you, and he waits for a response.

"Oh really?" you question humorously, something else hiding behind your words. "Even over Robin?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, inspecting the slice of fruit in is hand. "Well, for right now, at least," he teases, earning a light shove from you.

"Shut up," you laugh, no real heat behind your words.

Another silence. Still facing forward, you both smile to yourselves, munching on the orange contentedly. Not having to look you in the eye was bringing Steve some newfound confidence. He took a few more bites and swallowed roughly, choosing his next words carefully.

"You've been my favorite person for a long time. Ever since you started, actually." His voice was soft, timid in a way you've never heard before.

Simultaneously, you both turn in towards each other, a heated stare shared between you.

A beat. You both can’t pull your eyes away from each other.

“Steve?” You speak so softly, Steve thinks he may have imagined it.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You’re staring again.” Your gaze darts down to his lips for a fraction of a second, then back up to his honey eyes.

“So are you.”

Your tongue pops out in a flash, wetting your lips alluringly.

Another beat. Then Steve throws caution to the wind.

Before he can think, he’s leaning into you and pressing a soft, sweet kiss on your plush lips.

He relishes those brief few seconds, eyelids fluttering closed, but he pulls back just as quickly, looking a little panicked.

Had he ruined everything?

You blink, then take in a shaky breath before your grabbing his face with two hands and crushing his lips to yours once more. His nose bumps your cheek and your let out a miniscule whimper at the feel of him. He can taste the orange on your lips, acidic and sweet. Slowly, his tongue presses between your lips, seeking entrance. With a light pull on your jaw, you open up to him.

God, you taste like a thousand oranges, a million sweets, the yummiest thing he’s ever tasted.

Slowly, your hands come to rest on either side of his neck, pulling him closer. Still not satisfied, you desperately shuffle around on the tiny desk chair, knees brushing with his as you attempt to keep your lips locked while closing that last bit of space between you.

Steve leans back just slightly, your face still in his hands.

His eyes scan yours rapidly — making sure this is real — before another brief kiss, then a mumble against your lips. "God, I'm so fucking into you."

You kiss him deeper, smiling against his mouth, before pulling back with a snicker.

"Well, I would hope so, seeing as we're swapping spit in the break room."

He scrunches his nose jokingly at you before pulling you in for another light peck, this time on the corner of your mouth, then another on your cheek, then your nose and your eyebrow and your chin, and suddenly you're giggling and squirming against him, trying hard to pull away and failing miserably.

"St-Steve, stop! You're getting your gross spit all over me," you urge, pressing a hand to the side of his face and pushing him away gently, fondly.

He chuckles a little against the palm of your hand, acquiescing to your protest with a smirk. "Oh, please, you love it."

An unladylike snort leaves you and you stick your tongue out at him mockingly.

His eyes scan over your face again, this time really indulging himself now that he no longer has to hide his affection.

Then, realization hits him.

His face drops and you can't help but mirror his worried expression.

"What are we gonna tell Robs?" he asks, concerned.

He promised her he wouldn't do anything this time. But you were different than all the other girls Robin was friends with. You weren't just some girl asked out for a superficial make-out in the backseat. You were something more than that. Someone special.

Slowly, a smile creeps over your face, confusing Steve all the more. A small giggle bursts from your lips and Steve starts to contemplate again if this is all some dream, some cruel prank.

"Steve," you grab his jaw gently, like he were a clueless little puppy. "She already knows. I told her I liked you last week and she told me to go for it."

His eyes go wide.

"But— But she told me she didn't want me going anywhere near you," he mutters in disbelief, still not understanding.

"Yeah." Another giggle leaves you. "She just wanted to see how long you could last."

Of course. Robin loves to make his life difficult.

"She told me to really lay it on thick, really pull out my charm," you laugh. "You lasted pretty long, too. Longer than we expected. She bet you'd cave in about a week, so look at you! You exceeded her expectations! Robin's gonna be so proud."

A cocky smile graces your lips at his adorable expression. You ruffle his hair unabashedly, planting one last peck to the corner of his mouth, before hopping out of the chair, leaving him in disbelief.

"C'mon, pretty boy, let's lock up and get outta here. We got some catching up to do."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you

3K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 6 months

Text

Thin Walls — Keegan P. Russ x Reader

Dbf!Keegan collab with the amazing @moosch MWAH

Check out her amazing drawing on this<3

There were rare times Keegan felt like he may have chosen the wrong job. Right now? Covered in dirt and grime, seeking shelter in an abandoned building with the rest of the ghosts after a particularly hard mission was one of those moments. What was supposed to be a three hour mission went downhill and turned into four long days of chasing down an enemy for intel.

The first thing he did as soon as the building was cleared was to fish for his phone, reading the thread of messages he had from you; ranging from telling him about your day, to complaining about missing him and how he owes you a shopping spree for going dark. He rolled his eyes, a deep chuckle rumbling out of his chest and escaping his lips. A new text caught his attention, scrolling down to read it.

Brat: [16:38]

I see you online, can we ft? Papa wants to see u :)

He stares at your message for a few seconds, considering his chances. Keegan looks like shit— eye black smudged messily all over his face, uniform dirty and muddy, a streak of dried up blood dripping down his forehead, and icy blue eyes so tired you would think he died and was never informed. He didn't want you or your father; his best friend, to see him at his worst.

Glucose Father: [16:40]

Sorry princess, signs too shitty for that. Send me some pics of that bratty face and maybe I'll take you shopping when I'm back?

He internally cringed at the text, rarely even using his phone unless it was to text your father and you. His fingers tap on the sides of his phone as he waited for a reply, putting the idle chatter of the ghosts in the back of his mind as he went to another room with the excuse of being able to get some sleep once and for all.

For a second, he ignored the phone vibrating in his hand, leaning against the wall and sitting down with a groan, sore muscles finally able to rest, even if only for a few hours.

Brat [16:43]

Sent 6 attachments.

His tired eyes drifted down to his phone, opening the message and being received by the sight of you, a smile adorning your pretty face. His gaze softened and his pants tightened as he noticed you wearing one of his shirts, fitting into it so much better than he could. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, listening to the chatter on the other side of the thin wall before his free hand drifted down to his growing bulge, holding back a groan as he palmed his sensitive cock over his pants.

"Fuck..." He whispered, hesitantly lowering his fly enough to pull his dick out, gloveless hand feeling the length of it before he started stroking slowly, moving his hand up and down while he looked at your pictures. They were completely innocent pictures, really, simply showing your pretty face and bright smile, yet he couldn't help it.

He was trying his best to be quiet despite how good jerking off felt after so much stress. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes screwed shut as his mind came up with the filthiest fucking images, thinking of your lips wrapped around his cock, struggling to take him as he fucked your face. He could just imagine the noises that would come out of you as his thick dick was shoved all the way down your throat, a deep growl coming out of his lips as his rough fingers massaged his tip, spreading the leaking precum and using it as lube to jerk off better.

He swapped to another photo of you smiling brightly at the camera, holding up a piece sign. What a fucking sight for sore eyes. He imagined your pretty face glazed in his thick white cum, tongue tainted by his seed. His hand involuntary moved faster and harder up and down his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke until he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making too much noise, aware enough of the thin walls.

He couldn't wait to go back home to you, making you cuddle up to him and holding you like a lifeline, the plush of your ass pressing up against his cock as you allowed him to grope you, his hands grasping at as much as he could grab while his hard clothed cock rubbed against your ass. You're killing me, brat.

A deep, low moan came out of his lips his cock twitched in his hand, balls tightening up as ropes of thick, white cum shot out, covering his hand. He squeezed his cock a little bit tighter, making sure all his cum was out, taking another look at your pretty face in the selfies before he began cleaning up.

Evidence hidden and with his cock back in his pants he stepped back into the room with the other ghosts, instantly met with the amused faces of Ajax and Kick, clearly holding in their laughter.

"Had some fun, bro?" Ajax asked, not even able to hold in his laugh anymore, Kick following right after.

"Yeah, yeah." Keegan grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down and pulled out his flask.

"Next time I'll do it in the same room as you motherfuckers." Logan's frown deepened.

#cod ghosts x reader #cod ghosts #keegan russ #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ smut #keegan p russ x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n

1K notes · View notes

violetarks · 4 months

Text

"where are you going? can i come too?"

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: geto suguru

summary: suguru's ideals come in the way of your relationship, and you're all too willing to become a different person for him. but he can't lose the person he fell in love with forever.

warnings: g/n! reader, short angst with no comfort, set in the past right as geto changes

you kiss him 'good luck' on his solo mission. you've noticed that he's changed, he's no longer the same man you fell in love with. but you still love him. how could you not?

he lays in your bed, tired eyes staring blankly ahead. the light no longer presents itself in his irises, he looks at you with such emptiness that makes you believe he's truly gone. yet his hands still feel warm, the short yet noticeable smiles that paint his face give you hope. the way he says your name, a whisper upon his lips, makes your heart thump aggressively against your ribcage.

"are you okay, suguru?" you ask, brushing your fingers through his silky hair as he lays there. from your seated spot on the edge of your own bed, you can see the bags under his eyes. he blinks once before looking back at you, the faintest smile on his lips. "you look tired... i can go instead. i'm sure principle yaga wouldn't mind."

he stares at you for another moment, remembering all the features of your face. he feels like he's slipping from reality, almost like he's phasing out of his life and into another world. but... nothing has truly changed except for him. the universe is how it's always been... but has he never noticed the draining nature that is the jujutsu society?

"no..." he whispers out, placing a hand on top of yours once he reaches his cold cheek. a kiss lays itself on your inner palm. "no, y/n, thank you. i have to go."

he sits up and you frown. pulling yourself to sit beside him, you reach and wrap your arms around his neck, gently pushing his head against your shoulder. you kiss his ear. "only if you're sure, baby." you say to him, his own fingers brushing against your hips, "if you need anything, call me. i'll be here waiting for you."

when you say that, he closes his eyes and breathes you in. the remnants of your relationship hang by a thread on your being. he knows that he has lost himself, and by the way you hold him now he knows you know as well. but your fingers continue to dance along his nape. your intoxicating warmth keeps him momentarily distracted.

"thank you." he replies, pulling away to gently kiss your lips. you smile the most you can and give him another for good measure. "shall i pick up something for you, my love?"

"just come home safely, suguru." you tell him, pulling him to stand up and grabbing his uniform jacket from the seat in the corner of your room. you hand it to him and grin. "and maybe some snacks for movie night."

he chuckles, opening his wallet in his pocket to make sure that he has everything, his credit card, his student license and the pictures of you and himself. once assured, you walk him to the exit of your dorm, holding his hand. he stands outside, hair done up and his face dull. you hold his cheeks gently in your palm, pulling him closer again.

you kiss his lips with such kindness that it almost restores all hope he has in himself and in the world. a beacon of hope, you were, but such fragile emotions are tainted in the jujutsu society. suguru finds himself wishing that you had chosen a different occupation once you pull away, even though he knows that it was the only reason you two met.

"good luck, baby." you say, giving him a smile.

he nods his head, tilting it a little with grin. "thank you, my love."

you're more than surprised, upset, perturbed when you hear from principle yaga that suguru has committed mass genocide of civilians on his most recent mission today. you get your phone call from him while you're out, renting a movie for you and suguru to watch, and end up answering while alone in the horror aisle, looking down at a movie that shoko recommended the both of you. your reflection is all you see in the dvd box and your expression is all that people would need to understand that whatever you heard on that phone is enough to kill you.

he couldn't even begin to understand how hard this was for you. you hang up the phone and return the dvd to the right spot on the shelf, making a beeline for the exit. you nod 'goodbye' to the staff as you leave, and stand in broad daylight amongst the crowd of people passing by.

"suguru has been put on death row. your orders are to capture him to return to the higher ups, or to kill on site." yaga's voice is quieter when he says this, because he knows just how much it hurts you to hear this. you haven't said anything since 'hello?' or 'what's wrong?'.

principle yaga sighs out, disliking having to say such things to his students, "i understand that this will be the toughest decision for you, satoru and shoko to make... but it needs to be done. please return to the school as soon as you can, we need to talk with the first years, and the kyoto school is coming for a meeting."

you blink at what's in front of you and you can hear your heart pulsating in your ears. it so loud and you feel like your throat is closing up so fast that it'll tear into itself. every breath you make results in your lungs cringing and every muscle in your body is so tight that it could turn into a million single strands of fibre.

suguru blinks back at you, dressed in black clothing that matches his earrings and his hair, which is now half down. he only walks forward and takes your hand. he knows you know now. he can tell by the way you look at him and the way you don't move to greet him first. you aren't smiling and you aren't talking.

he leads you through the streets, holding onto your hand at every crossing, every stop light, every twist and turn of the path. he only lets go when you're in a nearby park, yards away from the kids playing on the playground. people pass you by every few minutes, but you don't bother speaking up. you sit on opposite ends, you in your uniform and your hands on your lap.

"so," he begins, finally breaking the silence, "should we postpone movie night?"

you look to him slowly, eyes dragging from the green grass. he looks at you, eyes with more light than you have ever seen in him recently. his smile is more genuine. and you furrow your brows because—

"what the fuck, suguru..."

"y/n—"

"a whole village... suguru, you murdered an entire village." your voice is low enough for people not to hear, but it seems like the amount has dwindled since you began speaking. suguru's smile drops slowly. "you were sent there to apprehend a curse—!"

"yaga told me to kill you." you scowl, upturned brows. suguru isn't surprised. he knows better than to believe he would go unpunished for this. "satoru will have to go after you. and nanami, mei mei... what are you going to do?"

"there was no curse." he explains, brows knitting like yours are. the difference between the two of you is that suguru's voice is strong and he is relaxed. you are on the brink of collapse. "the whole village was plagued by unjust people. they treated two young girls as trash in order to save their own asses. i did what i needed for the bettering of our world."

you would later come back to school to read the files with shoko and satoru together, in utter shock by the actions of your boyfriend and their best friend. even though the village was wrong... the genocide he committed could not go unfaced. did he think this made him better than them? to kill people under no judicial decision?

"they won't catch me, my love." he tells you, shaking his head. you stare at him with disbelief. your boyfriend was unbelievable. "i want you to keep this, y/n."

he holds out the photos of you two from his wallet, you recognise them easily. "why?"

"because we're breaking up." he says easily.

"where are you gonna' go?" you ask, pushing his hand away as you stand up.

"i will figure it out." he explains little to you, knowing that if you ever found out, devoted sorcerers would torture you to hear about it.

people have recognised that you two are in a heared conversation, and steer clear of your pathway. the amosphere you have both created sticks in the air like a bad smell, it's just too difficult to get rid of.

"suguru..." you say, voice emphaising your shocked emotions, "all sorcerers will be notified of your betrayal. you'll be hunted down!"

"let them come." he states, standing as well.

"idiot..." you muster out, "you're gonna' leave me here?"

"you can't come with me, my love." he informs you, shaking his head again. he makes a joke of your question, finding it useless to ask. you straighten your eyes his way, almost glaring. "you're a jujutsu sorcerer, and i'm a killer."

"let me come with you." you demand, clutching onto his hand. the photo of the both of you becomes scrunched between your palms. "please, suguru. i need to come along with you."

he understands you, more than anyone else. you would do anything for the man you love. you do everything together, you always look out for him, you have never once tried to hurt him or make him look bad. maybe that's just who you are, or maybe that's how he makes you.

"no, y/n. you can't." he sternly says, looking back at you with serious intent, "we're no longer together."

"please?" your voice is pleading with him. you know nothing more than him. he is your world. "i need to come with you, suguru."

he realises then that you're not trying to accompany him because you want to revert him back, but because you can't bear to be apart from him.

"i'm—i'm strong!" you defend your case, "you know that. i could do whatever you needed me to do. i'll... i'll even stall satoru for you."

he widens his eyes at your devotion to him, your greatest weaknesses.

"please, just let me come too. i promise, i won't go behind your back and do anything bad, i'll follow your orders, i'll listen." you say, tears, threatening to spill at any moment, "i'll do whatever you need me to. just... don't leave me behind."

his smile has disappeared by now, and he feels like he shouldn't be here with you anymore. your warmth is now too hot, and he feels like he's about to burn up because of you. it's your love for him. that is the ignited passion he feels. it's... too much.

"this was a waste of time." he lets go of you, and the crumbled photo falls to the ground. it's dirtied now by the dust. "next time you see me, you'll have to kill me."

"suguru!" you shout, your knees too weak to move forward and follow him. you go to cast your domain, shaky hands. "we're not finished!"

but he stops, hands in his pockets as he turns to face you side-on. once linked with his eyes, you halt your movements. you can't cast your domain against the only man you'll ever love... what were you thinking?

he knows your thought process. and he will never forget this power.

suguru's graceful smile dawns upon you and he chimes, "i'll see you around, my love."

you sit by satoru and are asked why you two didn't kill suguru when he met with the both of you separately. you answer with silence as satoru asks how the principle could ask such a thing.

suguru is by far the worst thing to ever happen to you, and you would risk it all for him anyday.

#geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto #geto x reader #suguru #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

193 notes · View notes