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celiastjamesoscar · 10 months

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Himbo Next Door

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x gn! Reader

Summary: you met Tara in the elevator your apartment and you two awkwardly hit it off. You begin to form a situationship with her, but Sam disapproves of you.

Warnings: Scream levels of violence, Pitbull Sam

Word Count: 5.5k

AN: this was from a request and I kind of expanded on it. I hope you enjoy it and if theres anything I need to change, let me know! If anyone has some requests, also let me know!

This is my first time writing a himbo reader, so im sorry that it’s not the best in that regard

Rain pattered against the quiet apartment complex as you rushed into the building, holding a pizza box. It had been a nice, beautiful day outside, but Mother Nature decided to flip on a dime. And, of course, you wore a white button shirt with black slacks, so your shirt was utterly see-through thanks to the rain. This was supposed to be a lovely evening out with friends, but it had turned into a disaster, and you were more than ready to binge-eat pizza while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

You were initially supposed to go to a fancy restaurant with your best friend, Olivia, her boyfriend, and another close friend, Lucas. It was a going away dinner for her, as she was moving away for college. The restaurant was one of the best ones in New York City, and you somehow managed to snag a reservation for the four of you. As it was a top-notch restaurant, there was a dress code that one had to follow: black tie. You wore a handsome black suit with a white undershirt, and you were more than excited to drink the best wine and taste the best food that New York had to offer.

You meet up with your friends outside the restaurant, waiting for Olivia’s boyfriend to show up. She wore a beautiful cocktail dress, while Lucas wore a decent suit; he wasn’t what you would classify as a redneck, but he fit the description to a tee.

Thirty minutes had passed before her boyfriend showed up, and you almost lost it. He wore sweat shorts with an ugly soccer jersey, and to top it off, he wore a beanie that he refused to take off. You were always calm and collected, not one to jump to violence even when needed, but he really pissed you off sometimes.

You knew there was no way you guys would be allowed to dine at this restaurant just because of him, but you still gave it a shot. And whenever you guys walked into the restaurant, the waiter asked him to leave or change, but he insisted that he was allowed to eat there because he was ‘more of a man’ than the owner. Because of this, he turned it into a fifteen-minute argument with the manager, and then all four of you were asked to leave.

You were naturally upset about this and the fact that you had to put down a hundred-dollar deposit just to reserve a table. After you guys had left, he decided the group would go to Hardee’s, as he needed to get his daily food from there. You held your tongue as you drove there; this was supposed to be Olivia’s going-away party, but he just had to hijack everything.

Long story short, you were out a hundred dollars, listened to Olivia’s boyfriend talk about the WWE for thirty minutes, and bought a pizza at a locally-owned pizzeria. Just as you left the pizzeria, a downpour of rain started, causing your outfit to get ruined while you had to drive home in the rain. Your nerves were more than shot, but you didn’t say anything. Confrontation made you uncomfortable, and you always did your best to avoid it.

As you made your way to the elevator, a soft voice called, ‘Hold it!’ You switched the box to your left hand and held the elevator door back with your right.

“Thank you,” the voice said once she entered the elevator. She was close to a foot shorter than you, and when your eyes made contact, your heart skipped a beat. She was easily the most beautiful person you have ever seen; she had soft chestnut-brown eyes, freckles that highlighted those eyes, and the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Her bangs perfectly framed her face, and you couldn’t even mutter, ‘You’re welcome.’

She looked at you uncomfortably while looking at the elevator buttons. “Oh, looks like we’re going to the same floor then,” she said with an awkward chuckle while glancing over at you.

Your eyes snapped to the buttons and then back to her. “I guess so,” you said with a weak voice.

Tara looked at you when you spoke, but her eyes slowly drifted down to look at your shirt. She admired your abs through the soaked white shirt as it clung to your body, trying her best to keep her cheeks from getting too warm. She loved how you towered over her, and she would pay money to see your muscles or watch you work out.

Tara was snapped out of her thoughts as the elevator dinger and the doors opened. You smiled at her politely as you left the elevator, and to your surprise, she followed you down the same hallway. As you approached your door, Tara walked to the door before yours.

When you found yours, you unlocked your door and opened it, but before you walked in, you looked over your right shoulder and smiled at Tara. “It was nice meeting you,” you said softly as you walked into your apartment and shut the door. Tara smiled back at you while saying, ‘You too.’

You ran into Tara several times like that, and you tried your best to talk to her. You weren’t the best at socializing, especially with beautiful women, and Tara seemed to like that about you. You would always listen to her and seemed to enjoy what she said.

After enough small talk in the hallway, she eventually asked you to come to her apartment for the first time. You were nervous, of course, but there was no way you could pass on an opportunity to hang out with the alluring woman.

“Here we are,” Tara said as she held the door open for you. You smiled at her while walking into the apartment. It was nice and cozy, and it looked a lot like yours, and you instantly felt at home. Tara crept up behind you, grabbed your hand, and eagerly pulled you into the living room. Your cheeks immediately warmed at the touch, and you didn’t fight back as the younger girl tugged you into the living room.

You sat on the couch next to her as she grabbed the remote. “So, you know how I told you I wanted to watch a movie with you?” Tara asked with a smile while staring into your eyes; she could look into them forever and never get bored.

“Yeah, ‘The Babadook,’ I think?” You questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tara said with a smile as she got up and looked around the entertainment center for the DVD. After a few minutes of looking, she let out a loud ‘ah-ha’ and inserted the disk into the DVD player.

She then sat on the couch and rested her head on your lap. The action caught you off guard, but then you gently ran your fingers through her hair. She smiled at the action and let out a soft sigh of happiness as she nestled into your lap.

That's how you two spent every Friday night: curled up on her couch watching movies. You enjoyed being in the girl’s company, and Tara loved showing you her favorite movies. Sometimes, you two would gossip about people on campus- you were in psychology together- or you would talk about what you had done that day.

Tara had mentioned that she had a sister she lived with, but you had never met her. Frankly, you were a little nervous to meet the older woman. You had caught yourself slowly falling for Tara, and it seemed that Tara valued her sister’s opinion more than her own. You hoped that you would make a good impression when you did meet her; you just didn’t expect to have to meet her today.

You and Tara were watching your new favorite show, ‘New Girl.’ It had been a peaceful night, and you two refused to watch an episode without the other. You were lying on the couch with Tara curled up on your chest. You guys were laughing together as Jess explained how she bought a footstool with a giant bag of meth when you heard the door to the apartment open.

Tara quickly pushed herself off your chest when she heard the door open and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

“Hey, Sam! What are you doing back here so soon?” She asks with a slightly nervous tone as she pauses the tv.

You heard the sound of boots walking toward you on the couch. You slowly push yourself up on the sofa, resting on your elbow as you look at the woman.

Sam was certainly taller than Tara, but not taller than you. She had jet-black hair and beautiful brown eyes. You were almost certain if Tara didn’t hold your heart, you would have fallen for the woman. She has a neutral expression as her eyes dart between you and Tara. “What’s going on here?” She dryly asks as she hangs up her backpack purse and turns to face you two.

You were about to say something, but Tara quickly interrupted you. “We were just watching a movie. This is Y/N, by the way,” Tara says as she nudges you, silently telling you to introduce yourself.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You are extremely gorgeous,” you say with a giant smile as you extend your hand. Tara gives you a look of disbelief, but you can't see it as you face her older sister.

Sam looks at you suspiciously before shaking your hand. She makes sure to give you a good death grip, and if it weren’t for Tara, you probably would have melted onto the floor.

She scoffs as she rolls her eyes and lets go of your hand, and then looks at Tara, “Where did you find this street rat?”

Tara let out a small laugh that caused you to whip your hand around and give her a disheartening look. She quickly clears her throat before speaking in an annoyed tone, “I ‘found’ her in the apartment building, actually. We met in the elevator and shared a few conversations in the hallway.”

“So you have invited a stranger into our home with just you two here?” Sam asks with narrow eyes as she stares at you.

Her sister huffed, “This isn’t our first time hanging out here.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly leave yours, and she is staring at Tara with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. “Are you kidding me, Tara?! Have you been hanging out with this random person while I’ve been at therapy? What if they tried to kill you?” Sam exclaims as she walks over and kneels before Tara, checking her sister for scratches or cuts.

“I would never hurt her, Sam. She’s too kind,” you say with a giant smile, even though Sam just insisted that you were a potential killer. You didn't care that she implied it; all you could think about was the beautiful girl you shared the couch with.

Sam slowly looks at you while keeping her hands on her sister’s knees. She glares at you with narrowed eyes as her eyes look you up and down. She can tell that you are taller than her and undoubtedly stronger than her. The fact that you could easily overpower both her and her sister set Sam on edge, but the way you seemed to carry yourself: the way you talked, sat, smiled, and even breathed made her even more suspicious of you. Sam had already seen how someone Tara loved killed her friends and almost both of them; she refused to let that happen again.

But you just seemed so indifferent about things. Sam wanted to call you some other things that weren’t nice, but she stuck with calling you indifferent.

Sam looked back at Tara and lightly sighed. “Is this the one you’ve been talking about?”

Tara moves around nervously while Sam calls her out. Her eyes shift uneasily between you and Sam as she fidgets with her fingers. “Um, yeah, they are,” she says with a low voice.

“Okay,” Sam says with a defeated tone as she stands up. She looks at you and speaks threateningly, “If you do anything to hurt Tara, I will kill your entire family and then you.”

You smile at Sam’s words as you sit up on the couch. “I don’t talk to any of my family, so I wouldn’t really care if you did. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill me; I love hanging out with Tara, and I would greatly miss it,” you say gently as you look at Tara. Tara is staring holes into the floor while she tries to hide her smile with her right hand.

Sam rolls her eyes at your comment and walks into her room, but not before sending a threatening glance at you and Tara on the couch. You had moved closer to her sister, and you looked back at her, sending her a polite wave with a friendly smile, believing that you had made a great impression on the older woman.

Sam scoffs as she walks into her room, slamming her door. You look back at Tara with a gentle smile and ask with a quiet tone, “You told her about me?”

The atmosphere in the living room immediately changed into something tense, and Tara could almost taste it on her tongue as she spoke calmly, “Um, yeah, I did. Does that bother you at all?”

You love how Tara refused to meet your gaze when she spoke; it almost made you believe she harbored romantic feelings for you, just as you did for her. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kinda like it,” you say with a gentle smile as Tara’s eyes meet yours.

Those beautiful brown eyes smiled for her as they quickly glanced down at your lips before returning to yours. “You mean that?” She asks in a more confident voice as she shifts her body to face you; she has pulled her left leg up onto the couch while letting her right one hang off the couch, and her entire body is facing you.

“Of course, I mean that, Tara. I actually think I made a good impression; she seemed really nice,” you say happily. Tara let out a small laugh as she grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to her. You followed her silent commands and ended up laying your head in her lap while facing the tv.

Once your head got comfortable in her lap, Tara softly ran her fingers on her left hand through your hair while she reached for the tv remote on the coffee table with her other hand. “Just so you know, you did not, in fact, make a good impression with Sam, but I still like you,” Tara said with a smile that grew bigger when she heard you scoff in response.

She loved having these small, soft moments with you. She knew you weren’t the brightest, but your kind and caring nature made up for it plenty. Tara would give up everything she had to her name if it meant spending an evening like this with you for the rest of her days. You held her heart in your hands, and it only took her two weeks to admit that after your first encounter with Sam.

You two were going on a ‘double date’ with Mindy and Anika. You were a bit iffy on calling it a double date, as you and Tara weren’t dating, but Mindy and Anika are. So in your head, you called it a ‘totally platonic hangout.’

You got dressed and left your apartment to head over to Tara’s. When you knocked, the door instantly opened, and Tara was wearing a giant smile and a cute outfit.

“Hi,” she says with an angel-like voice while staring up at you with soft eyes.

“Hi,” you reply breathlessly. If Tara would let you, you would always stare at her, admiring her beautiful features and counting her freckles.

She snaps you out of your daydream by taking your hand in hers and intertwining your fingers. You gently bump your shoulder against hers as you walk towards the elevator and out to your car.

When you two get in the car, you start it and drive towards the restaurant. You and Tara talk about your day and how you missed each other (it's been two days since you last saw each other). You tell her about the crazy things your roommates have done recently, and she laughs at your stories. She tells you about new things in her life, such as Sam asking about you more and that she’s got a new roommate named Quinn. Tara said that the girl was promiscuous but funny and lighthearted. She then starts to talk about Chad, and you instinctively tense up.

“Chad hasn’t left me alone all week, Y/N! It's starting to drive me crazy. At first, I thought he just wanted to hang out as friends more, but yesterday he told me he has feelings for me. Can you believe that?” Tara asks with a small laugh as she looks over at you. You had gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of Chad having feelings for Tara. Your chest began to tighten, and your heartbeat picked up with jealousy. You had no right to be jealous, but you couldn’t help. Chad was athletic like you, but he was also a lot smarter than you, which Tara valued and liked as a romantic partner.

“Oh. Well, I'm happy for you, Tara. You deserve someone like him,” you lie through your teeth with a sad tone.

At your saddened tone, Tara finally noticed how your body was tense and how you seemed to want to strangle the steering wheel. She reaches her left hand out and gently places it on your arm, “I don't like him like that, Y/N,” Tara says honestly while looking at you with love. You visibly relax at her words and almost let a smile appear.

“How come? He’s everything you want in a partner: smart, funny, caring, loyal, and strong,” you reply with a weak voice that Tara almost laughs at.

She rubs her hand up and down your arm as she says, “I don’t like him back because I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh. Well, I hope they make you happy,” you say honestly. Tara might not like you back, but you wanted her to be happy. And if she was happy, you were too.

Tara gently squeezes your arm before pulling back and placing her hands in her lap. She looks at you with so much yearning and love that she’s surprised you can’t feel it, but then she remembers you were basically a himbo: friendly, respectful, handsome, but not that bright. “You have no idea,” she says while sending heart eyes your way.

When you two get to the restaurant, you meet with Mindy and Anika and walk in together. You four get a table in the corner of the restaurant. You are sharing a side with Tara while sitting across Anika and Tara across from Mindy. You guys made idle conversation while waiting for someone to take your orders.

An attractive young woman approaches the table with a pip in her step, “Hey guys, welcome to O’Charley’s, my name is Sadie, and I’ll be your waitress for today. What can I get your guys to drink?”

All four of you order sweet teas, and before she leaves, she sends you a flirty wink that you missed, but Tara didn’t. She let out a small scoff as she hid her face in her menu, trying to fight jealousy. You look at Tara but don’t say anything, afraid to upset the girl more.

When Sadie brings back your teas, your hand lightly brushes hers as you grab yours, causing the woman to smirk. “Alright, are you guys ready to order?” She asks as she pulls her notepad from her apron, and you guys nod. “Okay, what can I get for you, beautiful?”

You pull your head from the menu and find that Sadie is talking to you. “Oh, I would like six-ounce sirloin with a Caesar salad and fries, please,” you say with a small smile. Not a flirty one, just a friendly one, but both Sadie and Tara mistake it for a flirty one. One girl is excited, while the other is filled with thoughts of murder.

Sadie finishes taking everyone’s orders before she quickly disappears again, but the atmosphere at the table is tense. Everyone but you can feel it, to which you start another conversation, and everyone else but Tara joins in. You tried to get the girl to talk, but you would get a small ‘uh huh’ or ‘of course.’

When your meals arrive, the four of you eat in peaceful silence, occasionally talking about how excellent your food is. It was an overall relaxing dinner until the checks came.

“You guys are separate, and you two are together?” Sadie asks, gesturing to you and Tara before gesturing toward Mindy and Anika. She was asking about the checks, but Tara picked up on the hidden underlining that you did not.

“That is correct,” you say as you accept your check from Sadie and then hand Tara hers. You all pay in cash and quietly wait for Sadie to come back.

When she does, however, she hands everyone their change, and instead of leaving, she pulls out her notepad and writes her number down on it. “Give me a call sometime,” she says with a wink as she hands you the paper.

You were going to ask what she meant by that, but any words got lost on your tongue as Tara stood up from the table and stormed out of the restaurant. Your clueless eyes follow Tara out of the restaurant before you lose sight of her, and you turn away to find both Mindy and Anika staring at you with wide eyes. “Go get her, dumbass,” Anika says harshly after a moment.

You grab yours and Tara’s change before quickly excusing yourself from the table, almost knocking your chair over. After you leave the restaurant, your eyes scan the area, looking for your lady. It only takes you a few seconds before your eyes land on her; she’s sitting on a bench, just staring at the ground.

You jog over to her and stop when she looks up at you. Her eyes are filled with a bit of anger and a lot of hurt, and for the first time in your life, you are out of words to say. You were always overtly friendly with people and they often mistook flirting with friendliness, which seemed to be your downfall with Tara.

“Tara, I am so sorry-”

“Just take me home, Y/N,” Tara cuts you off as she stands up from the bench and walks towards your car. You followed closely behind her, and when you got to the car, you went to open the door, but she shut it and opened it herself. You were slightly startled by the action but shook it off as you made your way to the driver’s side and got it. You start the car and drive back to the apartment; tension is the only thing you two feel.

You tried to talk to Tara throughout the car ride home, but she just stayed quiet and looked out the window with her arms crossed. You knew she was mad, but you couldn’t tell why. At first, you thought it might have been because of Sadie, but you and Tara weren’t dating, so she can’t be upset about it. Plus, your heart only belonged to Tara, so you would never go for anyone else.

When you two returned to the apartment building, it was an awkward ride up to your floor. When you two stepped off the elevator, you finally spoke, “Tara, please, I’m sorry, just talk to me,” you pleaded as you followed behind the girl.

You were getting ready to usher more apologies as Tara opened her door, but you were quickly cut off when she slammed the door in your face. You were stunned at the harsh action but knocked on her door once you realized what had happened. “Tara, please. Talk to me,” you said with a defeated tone. You waited a minute before sitting on the floor and resting your back against the door, sending Tara a string of apologies and asking her how you could fix it. But you got no reply, so you closed your eyes and rested your head against the door, hoping she would open up.

You fell asleep at one point but were quickly woken up when the door opened. Tara scoffed at you before she stepped over you. You stood up after she did that and followed her down the hallway. “Tara, you have to talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong,” you pleaded as you grabbed her wrist.

She pulled her hand out of your grasp. “Leave me alone, Y/N. I'm going to a party with Chad,” she said with a voice full of anger. Your heart instantly dropped at the mention of Chad, and your face showed it.

“Why Chad?” You asked with hurt, causing Tara to stop and turn around. She noticed the hurt look on your face, and she instantly wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let go, but she refused to give in easily.

“Because, Y/N, he invited me to go with him as his date. And who knows, I might even get lucky tonight,” Tara replied as she crossed her arms. She had no intention of sleeping with Chad; she just wanted to make you jealous enough so you’ll finally make a move on her, but Tara soon found out how wrong she was.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped your shoulders and spoke with a heartbroken voice, “I didn’t know you truly felt that way towards him. I hope he gives you the world then, Tara. You deserve that kind of love. I hope you have fun tonight, and just so you know, I am so sorry and I don't want to lose you.”

When you finished talking, you gave Tara a tight-lip smile as you turned around and walked toward your apartment. You were just outside your door when you felt a tiny hand slip into yours, pulling you around. You barely have time to respond before Tara crashes her lips against yours.

You were so shocked to feel her lips against your own you just stood there like an idiot before you finally broke out in a grin and kissed her back. When you kissed her back, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body became warm the more Tara kissed you. You grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, needing to feel her body against yours. Tara parted her lips to deepen the kiss, and your knees almost buckled.

When oxygen was needed, you two pulled away, resting your foreheads together. You two could hear nothing but the sounds of each other trying to catch your breaths and the drums of your hearts. You placed one final kiss on Tara’s lips and pulled away from her. “Are you still going out with Chad?” You asked with a slight frown; you really wanted to hang out with Tara after what just happened, but you were still unsure of where you stood with her.

She laughed as she grabbed your hand and opened your apartment door. “Not a chance,” she whispered against your lips, pulling you into your apartment before closing the door.

That was four weeks ago, and today you are preparing a dinner for yours and Tara’s one-month anniversary. She told you it didn't have to be anything special, as you two would have many more months together in the future, but you insisted on doing something nice. You were cutting up some steaks in the kitchen while Tara made homemade mashed potatoes. “Do you think Sam would want any?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. You should ask her though. I think she’s on the couch,” Tara replies as she mashes the potatoes in a saucepan. You nod at her words and head into the living room with the knife still in your hand.

Sam was lying on the couch watching tv. She wanted to stay home tonight to keep an eye on you and Tara, but she wanted to give her sister some amount of privacy.

“Hey, Sam, I'm getting ready to make some steak. Would you like some?” You ask, pulling Sam’s attention away from the tv. She leans up, and her eyes instantly land on the knife, dripping with blood. Her mind is filled with thoughts of Tara, and her body reacts before she can even think; her hands grab your arm and flips you over the couch and onto the coffee table, breaking it. She quickly takes the knife out of your hand and presses her right knee into your chest, making breathing hard for you. The action slightly turned you on, and you mentally murdered yourself for thinking that way about your girlfriend’s sister.

“What the fuck was-oh my god, Sam! Get off of her!” Tara screams as she runs into the living room, pulling Sam off your chest. You suck in some air, and Tara moves to help you up, “are you okay, love? Is anything broken?” She questions while checking over your body for any injuries.

“No, I'm okay,” you say as you stand up and look at the table, “your table isn’t, though.” Tara laughs at your comment and kisses your cheek before turning toward her sister. Her caring and loving nature was gone and replaced with anger. “Why did you do that, Sam?! Y/N was just being nice!”

Sam scoffs at Tara’s words but flinches back as Tara points the knife at her, demanding an answer. Sam reaches out and pushes Tara’s hand down, “I saw the blood on the knife and freaked out. I'm sorry, Tara,” Sam mumbled with shame.

“Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Y/N,” Tara demands, still staring at her sister.

Sam glares back at her sister before looking at you. “I'm sorry I flipped you over the couch and onto the coffee table,” Sam says with a low voice as her eyes refuse to meet yours.

“It's okay, Sam. Don’t worry about it,” you say with a smile. It really was okay with you, even though you felt slightly bad about breaking the table.

After your dangerous encounter with Sam, you and Tara return to the kitchen and finish dinner. You even made Sam a plate and brought it to her room. She thanked you as she took it, and you smiled politely as a response.

You and Tara continued having small dinners at home, followed by movie nights. She would also stay up late reading her books to you as you fell asleep. You weren’t the best at reading, but you loved the stories more than anything, and you loved them even more when Tara let you lay on her chest as she read to you.

It was game night at the Carpenter’s apartment, and the core four plus the girlfriends were over, along with Quinn, but she had a ‘male friend’ over. The six of you were playing a not-so-relaxing game of Uno when muffled screams came from Quinn’s room. The group just laughed it off, believing it was just Quinn having a really good time, but when her screams became ones of pain, and she cried for help, everyone stood up from the table and ran into the living room, staring at Quinn’s door.

The apartment had fallen into an eerie quietness that sent shivers up everyone’s spine; it was as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

“Run,” Mindy says, but before anyone can move, the door opens, and Ghostface pushes Quinn’s body out of the door, causing it to land on Anika, knocking her to the ground.

Ghostface charges out of the room and swings his knife at Mindy, cutting her arm. You push Tara into the kitchen as you grab a bat from the corner of the room. You run towards him and quickly swing it; the sound of metal meeting bone rings throughout the apartment as he collapses onto the ground.

“Come on,” you command as you grab Tara’s hand and pull her towards the door, flinging it open as you rush everyone out of the apartment. You do a quick headcount, and when you reach head number five, you shut the door and follow everyone downstairs.

Once outside, everyone regroups with their loved ones; Anika and Chad both check on Mindy’s arm as Sam holds Tara close to her chest. You walk toward Tara and Sam, and when your girlfriend sees you, she pulls away from Sam’s grasp and throws her body at you, pulling you into a crippling hug. You smile at the contact and kiss her head, thanking all the gods that your Tara was safe in your arms.

#scream #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #sam carpenter #anika kayoko #mindy meeks martin #jenna ortega x reader

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

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The Chic Magazine interview with the Good Omens cast and crew by Keeley Ryan, August 2023 :)

'It was wonderful to get the Good Omens family back together'

There were plenty of miracles, mysteries and mayhem when Good Omens returned to the small screen for a second season.

The PrimeVideo series, which was originally based on Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's best-selling novel, is heading beyond the source material this season.

The six-part series highlights the ineffable friendship between Aziraphale, a fussy angel and rare-book dealer, and the fast-living demon Crowley.

And while the duo put a stop to the apocalypse last time, there are the sparks of a new mystery that will take viewers from before The Beginning, to biblical times to grave robbing in Victorian Edinburgh; the Blitz of 1940s England to the modern day.

The cast includes David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Crowley and Aziraphale, Jon Hamm, Maggie Service, Nina Sosanya, Miranda Richardson, Shelley Conn, and Derek Jacobi also star in the series.

And Michael Sheen told how the Good Omens "world has grown" with season two - and opened up about his first day back at Aziraphale's bookshop.

In an interview conducted before the SAG strike, he said, "It was lovely to be back in the bookshop after having seen it burnt down the ground.

"Clearly I had managed to save a few books! Actually, it was extraordinary - your brain does a double take - my desk, the cash machine, the record player - everything is all so familiar even though it is a totally different location.

But we have expanded - there is much more of the world of Soho here including Aziraphale's favourite the magic shop and my favourite the pub - our world has grown."

The actor also praised Neil Gaiman's writing, noting how there's "something about the way Neil sees the mundane that is extraordinary."

He said, "His writing has such a breadth of reference and yet is so accessible and entertaining even when taking on big epic or philosophical issues.

There's something about the way Neil sees the mundane that is extraordinary. When things filter through his imagination they emerge in an entirely unique way and yet it feels like it's always been there.

Add in the sprinkling of the imagination of Terry Pratchett and cocktail has been created - utterly familiar."

Producer Sarah-Kate Fenelon told Chic how the second season of Good Omens is "building on the universe" - and how they had been "sowing the seeds of a second season without anybody knowing" last season. "

She said, "I work with Neil Gaiman and know in part that Gabriel, who is played by Jon Hamm, his character is not in the book of Good Omens - but it was included in the first season. We were sowing the seed of a second season without anybody knowing.

"That character was written by Neil and Terry as a potential second book. They never got to write it, but now we're able to tell Gabriel's story. It's kind of a lovely evolution, where we're just expanding the universe.

"A lot of locations on the set are locations from season one. We've also been able to explore new shops, like we've got the record shop and we've got The Dirty Donkey pub, which we go into - it was in season one, but we never got to go into it.

"Season two is just building on the universe."

The Wicklow native added that it was "wonderful to get the Good Omens family back together" for a second season.

She said, "We were lucky that a lot of our crew and creative talent were able to come back for a second season. But also, we had our cast return. Miranda Richardson plays a totally different character this season and we have a new Beelzebub.

"And then obviously, we've got Maggie and Nina playing themselves, Maggie and Nina, as written by Neil. It was wonderful to get the Good Omens family back together again."

Noel Corbally, who works as an associate producer on the series, recalled how they marked a special anniversary of the first season's release while prepping for season two.

The Irishman said, "We went for dinner that night to relive the celebration, happy to be back again.

"Even now, it's been more than a year since we wrapped and to be able to come back into the studio that's just been frozen in time with everything wrapped up — we had a week to turn it back to life, have it be a live street again.

"It's been a week. But it's been amazing. We had our original lighting team come back, our original art department — and they've just done a fantastic job."

And while there are plenty of easter eggs for fans to spot throughout the six episodes, the pair shared their favourites.

Noel shared, "I think that my favourite easter egg is actually in the record shop. It's a song that we play in the background. It's so subtle, but it's from the musical Happy As A Sandbag.

"Maggie's character Maggie runs the record shop, which was owned by her grandfather in the story. But the musical, Happy As A Sandbag, Maggie Service the actress - her mother and father met on the musical and fell in love. Having that was an homage to them for bringing us Maggie."

Sarah-Kate said, "I quite like the easter eggs in the title sequence. If you look really closely, there is a Gabriel or Jim in every shot, which people tend not to notice. It's like Where's Wally?"

Rob Wilkins, who manages Terry Pratchett's estate and serves as narrative EP, told how he was "elated" for the second season to be out — and about moving beyond the book's source material.

He explained, "There were lots of nerves, because there is no source material. There's no book. I went through the whole of season one with the mantra that we've got a beginning, a middle and an end.

"And at the end of season one, which was the only season at the time, I felt very relaxed - we're all grounded through Terry and Neil's words, and that's fine. We know where we're going, we've got the novel to refer to.

"And so with season two, of course there's going to be nerves — there's no source material.

"But Neil is 50% of the creative team that brought you Good Omens, so in him we trust. And we genuinely do, from the bottom of my heart - of course we do.

"There's excitement about what Neil is going to bring from the page and from the page to the screen, but trepidation as well — I'm a fan as much as anybody else, I want to know where the stories are going."

Rob added that some of his own favourite easter eggs within the second season include a nod to Terry in The Dirty Donkey pub - as well as a special sight in the bookshop.

He said, "I love the fact that in the bookshop, Teny's hat and scarf are just hanging there. Terry, as a huge patron of bookshops around the world, he just left his hat and scarf in there and moved on one day and left them behind.

"That's a lovely one for me, as well - it means more to me, I think, than anything else."

Rob opened up about the success of the first season - and why it was something that he didn't necessarily expect.

He continued, "There's the Terry Pratchett fandom, there's the Neil Gaiman fandom and push them together and there's a big crossover. But what we created with season one, we created Good Omens fandom from the show.

"People came to Neil's work and Terry's work through the show. It created something entirely individual of its own making, and that freaked me out because I didn't see that one coming.

"I didn't see that as a thing. I thought the fans would be rooted in Terry or Neil. I didn't realise that the ineffable husbands in all of that - I love David and Michael, but I didn't realise the love people would have for them as our demon and our angel.

"I shouldn't be surprised. It's just my admiration for them as actors and for what they do, and for people getting it I think that that's the thing that's meant a lot to me, that people have understood what we tried to do."

Costume designer Kate Carin told how having the opportunity to join Good Omens' second season was a "gift" - and opened up about why it was impossible to pick a favourite scene.

She explained, "When you see the whole show - you think, when you're watching episode one, you're like, 'oh my god, that's the best'. But then you watch something in episode two and it's like, 'that's awesome!'

"I would say that I'm a disciple of the show now. I didn't know the book when I was approached about the job. I'd obviously heard of it, and I'd seen season one — as a punter, I watched it.

"To get the opportunity to come and work on season two, it's a gift for a costume designer.

"You do fantasy, you do period, you do contemporary and all of the wavy lines in- between - you're given a lot of rope to play with."

The character of Shax, played by Miranda Richardson, was a "really fun character to design for" - as Kate told how plenty of ideas jumped to mind after reading the description.

She said, "When Neil writes on the page that you have a 50s inspired female demon, that gives you a lot of scope to play with. "

And when I started drawing her, I actually had to stop myself because I kept coming up with ideas."

And with the series jampacked with magical moments and settings, set decorator Bronwyn Franklin told how there was one particular shop that has a "certain magic'!

She said, "I actually think the magic shop is my favourite shop. The bookshop used to be, but now that l've done it twice - it's still beautiful. It is Aziraphale's home. It feels more magical because Aziraphale lives there, and there's the whole angelic side.

"But this one, it really has a certain magic. From a set decorator's point of view, it's a joy. Will Godstone, he gets to sit there and he's got his little cash register and if he's got no customers, he can sit there and have a little cup of tea.

"You just have to feel that person, live that person and think that it's yours. I always come into a space like this and think, 'how would I like to be?' Because if it makes me happy, it'll make the cast member happy, it'll make the viewers happy."

Michael Ralph, who is the series' production designer, told how while it's impossible to pick a favourite set, the bookshop is "one that will resonate most'.'

Aziraphale's bookshop contains more than 7,000 real books and Michael noted that it was important for the setting to feel real, not just for the audiences at home but for the cast and crew.

He said, "There's not a fake book in here. Couldn't do that. In a way, if you look at any bookshelf - I spent almost a day just moving books around, to make the bookshelves look like they're real. They could be flat dressed, and then they're not real. But this is real, when they're just moved around a little bit; or people have pulled them out and put them in incorrectly.. .that's what's real about a bookshop."

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actlawngames · 2 years

Text

Lawn Games in Canberra

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cr-komi · 4 months

Text

"The Distance Between Us"

Summary: You sent nudes to the biggest fuckboy on campus, what could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Female Reader

Genre: Smut, a very very small amount of fluff at the end.

Word Count: 12,400+

Warnings: Y/N is an absolute idiot, Yoongi is kind of a dick at the beginning, swearing, oral (male & female receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!) missionary pos., multiple orgasms.

Author's Note: This is not proofread so I apologize if there are mistakes! This one took me forever to write because I kept having writer's block and wanted to change a bunch of it but this was the final result so I hope you all like it!

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Come on, Y/N, just send it.

It'll be like ripping off a Band-Aid.

He'll like you even more if you do this.

It's only a picture, right?

Just a blurry mix of pixels and saturation, nothing more, nothing less.

His text glared back at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You stared at the message, contemplating every word, feeling the weight of his request pressing against your chest,

You didn't know who he was, not really. You didn't even know his name, although his phone number was engraved into your memory after seeing it so many times, tracing all the way back to that random evening a few weeks ago. But there was something about his mysterious aura that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. You couldn't resist the temptation to unravel the enigma that was him.

---

You sat in your dimly lit room, legs curled up beneath you as the soft glow of your phone illuminated your face. The familiar pang of jealousy twisted in your stomach as you obsessively scrolled through Instagram, unable to tear yourself away from the seemingly perfect lives of your friends and acquaintances.

"Ugh, another vacation?" You muttered, glaring at the screen as you saw a picture--a perfect couple sipping cocktails on a pristine beach. "Of course, they're all smiles."

Your thumb swiped upward, revealing another post showcasing an enviable group of friends laughing and posing together. Their happiness felt so unattainable, further highlighting the loneliness that had become your constant companion.

"Must be nice," You whispered, voice laced with bitterness.

Your eyes scanned the screen, taking in the meticulously curated feed that presented a world you could only dream of inhabiting.

Just as your frustration reached its peak, a flicker of light caught your attention. It was a text message notification, appearing like an oasis in the digital desert you found yourself trapped in.

Eager for any distraction, you tapped the screen, feeling a flutter of hope that maybe it was someone reaching out to you,

A simple greeting was plastered across the screen, accompanied by an unfamiliar number. Your brow furrowed as you stared at the unknown sender. Confusion gnawed at you, and you hesitated before replying,

As you typed, your fingers moved cautiously across the screen before hitting send, taking a deep breath while waiting for a response.

The reply came almost instantly,

You scoffed. Whoever this was, they seemed ignorant, and you decided to play along,

You tilted your head back, attempting to recall any instance of sharing your number, but your memory failed you. How did this random stranger end up with your contact information when you couldn't remember giving it to them?

Your heart began to pound at his reply, fingertips hovering above the screen. "Is this some kind of prank?" you mumbled, mind racing with possibilities. Was it someone from school trying to mess with you? You haven't talked to Jungkook since your freshman year of college when he was your partner for a science project, why would he give your number out?

You couldn't shake off the feeling of intrigue and curiosity that coursed through your veins. Despite the skepticism that crept into your mind, a part of you wanted to believe that this encounter held some sort of significance. Perhaps it was a twist of fate, an unexpected connection waiting to be unveiled.

With hesitant determination, you decided to take a leap of faith and continue the conversation. The prospect of embarking on something new, something beyond the confines of your monotonous daily routine, enticed you. After all, what harm could it do?

You sighed, contemplating why Jungkook would be giving your number out, or how he even got it in the first place.

Your mind craved to uncover the truth behind this mysterious text conversation, even if it meant stepping into unknown territory,

You stared blankly at your phone, eager for a reply, but you were met with only silence. Minutes stretched into hours, and still no response came. Doubt began to creep in, mingling with the confusion that had settled in your mind. Maybe this was all just a cruel joke, a ploy to toy with your emotions.

But something inside you refused to believe that. There was an inkling of curiosity, a flicker of hope that urged you to hold on a little longer. So you waited, your eyes never straying far from your phone.

Days had turned into weeks, and yet the mysterious sender remained silent. The initial excitement had waned, leaving behind a sense of disappointment that weighed heavily on your shoulders. You couldn't help but wonder if you had been foolish for getting caught up in this unknown person's game.

The idea of giving up on waiting for a response finally began to creep in, but just as you were about to delete the number and move on, a notification jolted your phone awake. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen, afraid to hope again.

With a deep breath, you finally slid your finger across the screen, unlocking the message. Your heart sunk down into your stomach as you read the words that appeared before you,

Fuck.

--- Ever since the day he asked if you sent nudes, you had been giving yourself over to him, allowing him to slowly chip away at your self-worth. Each time he asked, you obliged, sending him a piece of yourself captured through the lens of your phone. It started as something simple, maybe a picture of your cleavage or the curve of your ass, just as you had convinced yourself in the beginning. But with each photo sent, you felt a piece of your soul fade, replaced by an emptiness that gnawed at you from the inside out.

You desperately craved his validation, his affection, believing that if you gave him what he wanted, he would finally see your worth. But no matter how many pictures you sent, it was never enough. He always asked for more. More skin, more vulnerability, more pieces of you to devour.

With every photo, you hoped for a different reaction from him - one that acknowledged your value as more than just pixels and saturation. But all he ever responded with were simple words of praise and shallow compliments that never reached beyond the surface.

You were losing yourself in the process, your identity becoming reduced to a series of explicit images sent through a screen. Each picture felt like a betrayal to your own integrity, yet you continued to send them, hoping that this time would be different, that this time he would finally see you.

But deep down, you knew the truth. He didn't truly care about you. You were nothing more than his object of desire, a means to fulfill his own selfish needs. The more pictures you sent, the more power he held over you.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, tears streaming down your face as you stared at his latest text message. It was as if a veil had been lifted from your eyes, revealing the harsh reality of what this relationship had become. You were nothing more than an object to him, a means to fulfill his desires without any regard for your own well-being.

The weight of his words pressed upon your chest, suffocating you with the realization that you had lost yourself in this desperate quest for validation. The vibrant colors of your world had faded into shades of gray, and you yearned to break free from the suffocating grip he had on your emotions.

There was a fire burning deep within you, a fire of anger and resentment that you had been trying to suppress for far too long. It was time to let it out, to confront him and put an end to this vicious cycle you had been caught in. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation that lay ahead, and that begun with asking Jungkook why he was giving your number away.

---

You spotted him on campus his familiar figure standing near the brick wall of the main building, a smirk playing on his lips as he chatted with the same group of friends he was always with, their laughter echoing through the air. It was a scene you had witnessed countless times before.

His presence sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of annoyance and frustration coursing through your veins. You felt a surge of anger rise within you, fueling your determination to confront him. With each step closer, your heart pounded louder in your ears, drowning out the noise of passing students and the rustling leaves overhead. Pushing through the crowd, you made your way toward him, ignoring the curious glances from passersby.

As you approached, Jungkook's eyes met yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before being replaced by his signature nonchalant expression. His friends noticed your arrival too, their conversations dying down as they turned their attention to the unfolding scene.

"Jungkook!" you called out, your voice stronger than you had anticipated. His attention snapped towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you up and down.

"Y/N, right? Shit, I haven't talked to you in awhile. How have you be--"

"Have you been giving my number out?" You interrupted, your voice dripping with anger. His attempt at casual conversation only fueled your frustration. You crossed your arms, staring him down with unyielding determination.

Jungkook's expression shifted, a hint of guilt clouding his features for a moment. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Look, if this is about the text messages--"

"Of course it is," you snapped, your voice laced with bitterness. "What else would it be about? You're the one who gave my number away without my permission!"

Jungkook's friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the tension between the two of you. Jungkook ran a hand through his tousled hair, his gaze shifting to the ground beneath him.

"I didn't think it would be a big deal," he muttered, barely meeting your eyes, "he told me I wanted it so I gave it to him."

Your jaw dropped at his words, a mix of anger and disbelief bubbling up inside you. How could he so casually dismiss your privacy and consent? How could he believe that just because someone wanted your number, it was okay to give it away without your permission?

"Who are you talking about? Who did you even give my number out to?"

"Does it really matter?" Jungkook replied, his voice laced with irritation. "It's not like it's a big deal. You're making a fuss out of nothing."

"Jungkook, it absolutely matters!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You violated my privacy. You had no right to give out my number without my consent."

Jungkook nodded, glancing around nervously before finally meeting your gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's Yoongi," he confessed, his eyes filled with remorse, "He said he knew you from one of your classes and wanted to get to know you better."

Jungkook's words hung in the air, like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he trust Yoongi with your personal information without even asking you?

"Yoongi?" You echoed, feeling a strange mix of relief and betrayal. "Why would he ask for my number in the first place?"

Jungkook hesitated, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know, Y/N. If you want to figure it out, ask him, he's over there."

Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention towards where Jungkook had gestured. Your eyes fell upon a figure standing a few feet away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. His expression was unreadable, a flicker of in his eyes of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

As soon as he met your gaze, he smirked, walking off in a crowd of students with an air of nonchalance. Your anger and frustration intensified as you watched Yoongi disappear into the distance, leaving you with more questions than answers.

"Thank you, Jungkook." You mumbled, but before he could offer a response, you turned on your heel and began to chase after Yoongi, set on confronting him and demanding an explanation. Those who surrounded you parted ways as you weaved through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest, fueling your determination to catch up to him.

The campus was bustling with students going about their day, but you barely registered their presence. Your focus was solely on finding Yoongi and demanding an explanation for his actions. As you made your way through the crowd, the image of his smirking face played over and over in your mind, intensifying your frustration and boldness.

You clenched your fists as you trailed behind Yoongi across the college campus, leaves crunching underfoot.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fueled by anger and determination. You had been following him for what felt like hours – down crowded halls, past classrooms filled with students, even into a noisy cafeteria where you had to duck behind a vending machine to avoid detection, and although he had looked behind him numerous times during the journey, your remained unnoticed.

You watched as he strolled casually, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded denim jacket, apparently oblivious to your presence. But every time you thought you were about to catch up to him, he would disappear around a corner or slip through a door, leaving you becoming increasingly more and more frustrated.

As you navigated through the labyrinthine campus, your mind raced. Why had he texted you in the first place? What kind of person asks someone for nudes out of the blue? And how could you have been so stupid as to trust him?

With so many questions running through your mind, you became distracted, losing sight of him yet again.

Frustrated, you gave up and retreated to the library, the closest place you could find after travelling on foot for so long.

The hushed atmosphere there was a welcome respite from the chaos of your pursuit, and you sank into a plush armchair near the back, your eyes scanning the shelves aimlessly.

And that's when you saw him.

Yoongi was standing in the history section, a heavy tome clutched in one hand.

Sighing, he glanced up and locked eyes with you, his face paling visibly. Before he could react, you stormed over, grabbing his wrist so as to not let him escape you again.

"Yoongi, why did you text me? Why did you even ask Jungkook for my number in the first place?" You demanded, your voice barely more than a whisper but seething with fury. "Why did you ask me for nudes?"

He blinked at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. "Why are you even upset?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "You're the one who sent them."

"So? You shouldn't have asked for them in the first place." You hissed, your anger boiling over.

"You shouldn't have sent them." He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Look, it doesn't even matter at this point just--"

"Keep your voice down," he interrupted, glancing nervously around the library.

"No! You need to hear this," you yelled, forgetting your surroundings as your emotions took control. "You had no right to ask for those pictures, and then to turn around and act like it's no big deal? It's disgusting!"

Annoyed by your yelling, Yoongi grabbed your arm with surprising force and pulled you through the maze of bookshelves.

"Yoongi, what are you--"

"Be quiet."

You struggled against him, but he didn't relent until the two of you stumbled into a cramped supply closet. Slamming the door shut behind him, he released you, his face a mask of frustration and something else you could fully recognize.

"Listen," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You didn't have to send those pictures if you didn't want to, and I mean...I'm sorry for asking for nudes but I won't lie," he leaned in close, his warm breath brushing against your cheek, "you looked pretty damn good in every single one."

And so, you stood there, back against the door, his words washing over you like a tidal wave. For a moment, you couldn't find your voice - he was right. You had sent those pictures. You were the one who had been so flattered by his attention that you had forgotten about boundaries and given in to his request with such reckless abandon. But that still didn't give him the right to use them as he pleased! You pushed past him and walked out of the closet, trying to compose yourself.

As you stepped out, the library came rushing back into view, filled with students hushed amidst their studies. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious as everyone's eyes turned towards you as if they knew what had just gone down in the supply closet. Your face burned under their scrutiny as you tried to make your way back to your seat without making eye contact with anyone.

But before you could take a step, a strong hand gripped your wrist once again and spun you around to face Yoongi. His eyes bored into yours with unwavering intensity, his jaw tightened as he spoke lowly; "Look... I know I messed up." He paused, stepping closer, his eyes boring into yours are he spoke, "but you sent them to me, Y/N, and I didn't force you. You could have stopped me at any time, but you didn't. And for what it's worth, I never meant to hurt you. I just thought...actually, you know what? It doesn't matter."

He let go of your wrist and turned away, walking towards the stacks of books on the shelves nearby as if nothing had happened. You watched him go with a mixture of emotions churning inside of you. He was right, of course. You did send those pictures willingly. It would be your fault if they got out.

How could you be so fucking stupid? Why did you think any of this would be a good idea?

You couldn't shake the feeling that something about his apology felt half-hearted, like he was only saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But still, a small part of you yearned for him to be sincere.

---

The twilight seeped through the gauzy curtains, casting a lavender hue over your room where you sat, knees drawn up to your chest on the window seat. Outside, the world was softening into dusk, but inside, a storm brewed within you. Your eyes were fixed vacantly on the snow that began to layer on the window pane, mirroring the turmoil in your heart.

"Yoongi," you murmured under your breath, the words tasting bitter. The memory of your encounter with him was like a splinter—sharp, intrusive, and impossible to ignore. You replayed your last conversation over and over, each iteration twisting the knife a little deeper.

What had you expected? For him to suddenly understand? To apologize?

"Focus on something else, anything else," you chided yourself, uncurling from your perch.

You moved towards your cluttered desk, where an array of distractions awaited: unread books, sketches half-done, a guitar that hadn't felt the warmth of your touch in days. Your fingers hovered over a novel, its spine still creased with promise. But even as you pulled it toward yourself, the printed words blurred, drowned out by the echo of Yoongi's voice.

"Of course," you scoffed, tossing the book aside with a soft thud against the hardwood floor. "Books are no refuge when your mind is this loud."

You walked over to the mirror, studying your reflection—as if searching for an answer in the contours of your own face. With a sigh, you reached up, freeing your hair from its ponytail. Strands fell around your shoulders like dark silk, a curtain to hide behind.

"Maybe I'll just go to sleep," you said to your mirrored self, "sleep it off and wake up with a fresh head."

But as you turned away from the mirror, your phone buzzed atop the nightstand, an invasive vibration that commanded attention. You hesitated, a small part of you hoping, dreading. Your hand shook slightly as you picked it up. The screen lit up, and there it was—a message from Yoongi,

It was simple. A casual, stark contrast to the chaos he'd stirred in you. Just three letters, yet they held the weight of a thousand unsaid words.

"Hey?" You repeated aloud, a laugh without humor escaping your lips. "After everything, all he can say is 'hey'?"

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard, indecision warring with the urge to respond. To lash out or to leave it be? But beneath the hurt and confusion, a sliver of hope glimmered—the kind that refused to be extinguished even by the fiercest storm.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of olive branch, Min Yoongi?" You whispered, the beginning of a response forming beneath your breath,

His reply came almost instantly,

As you weighed Yoongi's message, you mulled over the possibility that he might be sincere this time. He had apologized, and now he wanted to meet at a cafe. Was this his way to make amends? Or was it just another one of his schemes to get you to do something?

"Just do it, Y/N," You told yourself, "you never know what's going to happen."

With a resolute nod, you decided that now was as good a time as any.

Y/N stood in her cramped bedroom, her breath fogging the windowpane as she looked out at the snow-dusted street below. She was about to do something she'd been dreading for days – meet Yoongi at the cafe. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. With a resolute nod, you decided that now was as good a time as any.

"Right. Let's do this," she murmured to herself.

It was bitterly cold outside, but you didn't feel like making an effort to dress up for the occasion. Instead, you pulled on a cozy grey hoodie and a pair of comfortable black sweatpants. They were simple, but warm enough for the short walk to the cafe.

As you stepped outside, the chill hit you like a physical force. You shivered, burying your face in the soft fabric of your hoodie and pulling the drawstrings tight. The wind whipped around you, biting at your exposed cheeks and turning them pink. Despite the cold, you couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the frost-covered trees and the crunch of ice beneath your boots.

Upon arriving at the cafe, your heart skipped a beat when you saw him through the window – Yoongi, sitting alone at a small table near the back, fingers tapping impatiently against his coffee cup.

You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, even from this distance.

As you pushed open the door and made your way over to his table, you felt an unsettling warmth blossoming within her chest. It was strange, feeling drawn to someone who had caused so much turmoil in your life. But here you were, unable to look away from his dark eyes and strong jawline.

"Yoongi," you said softly, your voice wavering slightly as you took the seat across from him.

"Y/N," he replied, barely looking up from his coffee. But when he did, his gaze seemed to take you in with an intensity that made you shiver. There was a hunger in his eyes that you'd never seen before in anyone – lust, perhaps?

"Um, so," you stammered, struggling to regain your composure and focus on the task at hand. "What did you...want to talk about...?"

"Well..." he began, his voice low and smooth as he leaned back in his chair, never breaking eye contact.

Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, trying to find the right words to express how you felt about everything. You knew you had to face him, and move forward. But with every second spent in Yoongi's presence, you found herself increasingly drawn to him, despite everything he'd done.

"Yoongi, I—" you started, but couldn't finish, swallowing hard as you struggled to compose herself.

"Go on," he urged, a slight smirk appearing on his lips as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

You hesitated, biting your lip nervously, but then steeled yourself. Your words tumbled out in a rush, "I-I don't know what you want from me, Yoongi. Are you really sorry, or is this just another game to you? Because I can't do this anymore, I can't keep feeling like this, like I'm being played."

Yoongi's smirk faded, and his eyes softened. He lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up at you, his voice sincere when he spoke, "That's...actually why I asked you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for everything. Y/N...I-I'm so sorry. I never should have asked you for those nudes."

You avoided his eyeline, instead averting your gaze towards the floor, "Why...why did you ask me for them? It's not like you knew me before we even started texting and I--"

"Yes, I did, actually." He interrupted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice, "I saw you at a party a few months ago a-and...Jungkook gave me your number. Don't ask me why he had it because honestly...I don't know. I wanted to talk to you but I-I just thought it would be better to text you."

You noticed the slight stutter in his voice and the way his fingers played with the edge of the table, betraying his nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, you took a moment before responding, "So you were talking to me all this time, knowing who I was?"

"Yes," he admitted, his shame evident in his eyes. "But it doesn't excuse how I acted, Y/N. I know that. I'm so sorry. If there's any way I can make it up to you, let me know. Please."

It was difficult for you to hear him say those words, but as he explained himself, something inside you began to crack. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was understanding, at least.

You looked at him, trying to decipher his words and find the truth behind them. "Why did you do it, Yoongi?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I...I don't know. I guess I thought it would be a way to get closer to you, or at least have some kind of connection. But it was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Your heart ached as you stared into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in his words. You knew this wasn't the end of your struggles, but maybe it was the beginning of something different.

"Thank you for the apology. I'm sorry too, I never should have sent anything to begin with."

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but you didn't have anything else to say, so you remained silent.

Yoongi looked down at the table, his dark hair falling into his eyes, "If it's okay with you..." He began, avoiding your gaze, "I-I want to get to know you better."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. Did you trust him? Could you let go of the past and move forward?

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, "Okay, Yoongi. Let's start over. But we're not doing anything like that again."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of relief in his eyes, "I understand. I won't push you, Y/N. I just...I'm so sorry."

"I-- it's fine, really."

And with that, you both sat in silence for a while, contemplating the new path that lay ahead of you. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but maybe it was worth a try.

---

It had been three months since you went to the café with Yoongi.

You found a new normal in your relationship, and although trust wasn't rebuilt overnight, you both were committed to fixing what had been broken.

The air between you and Yoongi had shifted. Instead of the tension and mistrust that had previously existed, there was now an underlying understanding and appreciation for each other's flaws and mistakes.

You appreciated how considerate Yoongi was, never pushing your boundaries or rushing things. Instead, he made an effort to listen intently, offering support and understanding as you opened up about your feelings and fears. It felt like the door to your heart was gradually creaking open, allowing the light of a blossoming bond to seep in.

One evening, you found yourself immersed in your studies at the library, the soft rustle of turning pages and hushed whispers creating a cocoon of tranquility around you.

Suddenly, your focus was interrupted by a gentle tap on your shoulder, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked up to find Yoongi standing beside your table, his eyes crinkling as he offered his gummy smile that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

"Hey," he said softly, like a lullaby whispered into the night. "I thought I might find you here."

"Yoongi!" You exclaimed, happiness bubbling up within your chest. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. What brings you to the library?"

"Call it intuition," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "I had a feeling you'd be here, studying late like always."

You chuckled, gaze drifting back to the stacks of books and papers spread out before you. "You know me too well," you murmured, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at your disorganized workspace.

"Indeed, I do," Yoongi agreed, his eyes lingering on your face. "But, I also know that you deserve a break. How about we head to my place and just relax for a bit?"

You hesitated, the thought of leaving your studies unfinished gnawing at you, but you couldn't deny the allure of spending time with Yoongi away from the pressures of academia.

You glanced back at him, his eyes filled with sincerity and warmth, and you made your decision, "Alright," you conceded with a smile. "Let me just pack up my things."

"Take your time," Yoongi replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. The simple action spoke volumes – he was in no hurry, willing to wait as long as it took for you to feel comfortable. It was moments like these that reminded you of how far the two of you have come in rebuilding trust, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the second chance you'd given him.

As the two of you walked out of the library together, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the snowfall had eased to a near halt as the two of you began your trek back to his apartment, leaving behind an untouched blanket of white in your wake.

The cold air stung your cheeks, but neither you nor Yoongi seemed to mind it much as you walked – the world felt hushed, almost magical.

"Is it always this beautiful?" you asked, your voice soft and breathy as you watched the last flakes fall from the sky.

"Sometimes," Yoongi replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I think it's just the right kind of weather for tonight."

Your steps fell in sync with each other, crunching softly against the snow beneath your feet. The streetlights cast warm, amber halos on the frosted ground, creating a comforting contrast against the winter chill.

"Tell me about your work," you suggested, curiosity piquing your interest. Yoongi had mentioned his desire to become a music producer during your conversations, but you wanted to learn more.

"Ah, well," he began, a modest smile gracing his lips. "I've been working on this new project lately – it's got a different vibe than what I usually do. But that's what makes it exciting."

"Sounds fascinating," you commented sincerely. "I can't wait to hear it when it's finished."

"Hopefully you'll like it," Yoongi replied, his eyes shining with gratitude at your enthusiasm.

As you approached his apartment building, you couldn't help but feel a slight surge of nerves. It was the first time you would be stepping into Yoongi's personal space, and there was an undeniable intimacy in that. You glanced over at him, wondering if he could sense your apprehension. However, his gaze remained fixed on the entrance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Here we are," Yoongi announced as you walked into the warm, well-lit lobby. The sudden change in temperature made you shiver slightly, your body trying to adapt.

"Nice place," you commented, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks," Yoongi replied, leading you toward the elevator. The ride up was quiet, the both of you lost in your own thoughts as you anticipated what might happen once the two of you were alone in his apartment.

When you finally entered Yoongi's space, you couldn't help but take it all in – the minimalist furniture, the impressive collection of vinyl records along one wall, and the cozy atmosphere that seemed to envelop the entire room. It felt like a sanctuary, a reflection of Yoongi himself.

"Make yourself at home," he offered kindly, gesturing toward the comfortable-looking couch.

"Thank you," you whispered, suddenly aware of just how intimate this moment was. You were standing in his apartment, seeing a side of him few people had ever been privy to. And as you took a seat on his couch, feeling the warmth of the cushions beneath you, you knew that you wanted to learn even more about the enigmatic man who had captured your interest.

"Would you like something to drink?" Yoongi asked, his voice soft yet inviting. His eyes, a rich dark chocolate color, held curiosity and a touch of shyness, reflecting his guarded nature.

"Sure, do you have any wine?" You replied.

You enjoyed how the warmth of the room seemed to embrace you, making you feel comfortable. It was a rare feeling for you, considering your own life and surroundings were often chaotic.

"Of course," Yoongi said with a subtle smile. He disappeared into the kitchen area, returning moments later holding two glasses filled with the familiar deep red liquid. He carefully handed one to you before taking a seat across from you on the couch.

"Thanks." You took a sip, savoring the smooth taste of the wine as it slid down your throat.

You noticed the way the moonlight that streamed through the windows caught the glass, creating a dazzling array of colors that danced along the edges.

"You're welcome." Yoongi raised his own glass and took a small sip. His gaze lingered on the window, seeming to find solace in the familiar sight.

"Your apartment is really lovely," You said earnestly, hoping to ease the initial tension between the both of you. "It has such a unique vibe."

"Thank you. I've put a lot of time and effort into making it my own little sanctuary," Yoongi admitted with a small smile. "I'm glad you like it."

As the two of you continued to chat, you both discovered shared interests and common ground – your love for music, your desire to create something meaningful, and the challenges you both faced in your pursuit of happiness.

With each revelation, the space between both of you seemed to shrink, and you found herself drawn to Yoongi's quiet intensity.

"Sometimes," Yoongi said, pausing to choose his words carefully, "it feels like life is a constant battle against time and expectations. It's hard to find moments like this, where you can just be yourself without any judgment."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a pang of empathy for the man sitting before you. "I know exactly what you mean. It's easy to get lost in the noise and lose sight of who you really are."

"Exactly." Yoongi's eyes met yours, and you're struck by the sincerity you see there. "But sometimes, it's in those quiet moments that we can truly find ourselves."

You couldn't help but be moved by the sincerity in Yoongi's words, and as the silence fell between you both, you found your gaze drifting towards the window again. The snow had stopped, leaving a blanket of white that seemed to silence the world outside.

"It's amazing how peaceful everything can be when it snows," you remarked, your voice barely above a whisper. "It makes you feel like anything is possible."

Yoongi nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's a reminder that sometimes, we need to slow down and appreciate the beauty of the world around us."

You smiled, silently agreeing before looking around the living room, taking more of it in, "I can't believe we've known each other for as long as we have but I've never been to your apartment until now."

"Same goes for me," Yoongi replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, "It's kind of funny to think about how we even became friends."

You scoffed, "It's funny now. But, I wouldn't have it any other way. I still have your contact name as the same thing it was when you first texted me, though."

Yoongi tilted his head in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"It's still just your phone number. For some reason...I don't know I just like it that way."

Yoongi chuckled lightly, shaking his head in amusement. "That's...quite possibly the most strange yet charming thing I've heard today." He took another sip of his wine, the warmth spreading through his body as he savored the taste.

"Is that so?"

He nodded, smiling.

"Well, maybe I should change it then." You pulled out your phone, navigating to your contacts. "What should I change it to?"

"Nah," he began, putting his wine glass down before scooting towards you, "let me do it," he said playfully, snatching the phone from your grasp. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he held your phone aloft, just out of your reach. "Besides, I want to pick my own emoji."

"Give it back!" You laughed, your cheeks flushed with excitement as your reached for your phone. Your heart raced at your playful banter, something you had grown to cherish during your time with Yoongi.

"Uh-uh, not until I'm done," he teased, his tongue peeking out between his lips in a cheeky grin. He leaned to one side, keeping the phone firmly out of your grasp.

Your determination grew, and you leaned over him, stretching your arm out as far as possible.

Your fingertips brushed against the edge of your phone, but Yoongi shifted his weight again, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Yoongi, seriously!" You huffed, laughter bubbling up despite your feigned annoyance.

"Fine, fine," he relented, bringing the phone down just enough for you to snatch it back. In your eagerness, you accidentally ended up leaning too far forward straddling him in the process, your thighs pressing against his hips.

You both froze, suddenly aware of your intimate position.

Your eyes locked, and the room seemed to fall silent around the two of you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the proximity making you all too aware of the heat radiating from Yoongi's body.

You noticed the way his breath hitched in his throat, and the way his pupils dilated as the two of you continued to stare at each other.

A minute crawled by, every second feeling like an eternity as a thousand emotions swirled within you. Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and desires, and you could see the same turmoil reflected in Yoongi's eyes.

It was only when you felt a tremble in your hands that you realized what you were doing.

Face burning, you began moving your hips slightly in an attempt to get off of him, "Shit, Yoongi, I-I'm so sorry."

Although the movement you made caused a friction beneath you, and Yoongi froze, eyes widening, "W-wait, Y/N, stop...stop moving."

"What?" You stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

His hands slid down to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place, "Just...stop." He managed to get out, his voice low and rough. "Don't move, please."

As you froze in place, it dawned on you that Yoongi's hands had now settled in a more intimate position on your hips, his fingers gently gripping your sides. You could feel his breath against your skin as his eyes locked onto yours, his expression filled with a mix of desire and fear.

"Y-Yoongi, I--" You moved again in another attempt to get off him, flustered.

"Fuck..." He groaned, allowing his head to fall back, and suddenly, you felt something underneath you.

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what it was - his erection pressing right up against the heat of your core.

In fear and confusion, you pushed his hands off your waist, abruptly standing up before him, "I-I should go," you began, rubbing your hands against your sides in an attempt to wipe the sweat off of them, "I'll see you later?"

Yoongi watched as you quickly gathered your things and stood up from his couch, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body as your cheeks flushed red.

"Y/N, wait..." Yoongi's voice was hoarse, his eyes pleading as he reached for your hand. But you were already turning to leave the room, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue.

---

You avoided Yoongi for the next few days, his calls, his texts, everything.

You immersed yourself in your schoolwork, dedicating less time to visiting the library, as a means to escape the burden that this situation had imposed on you.

But as the days went by, you found yourself thinking about him more and more. About the heat of his touch, the desires you both had felt in that moment. You knew it had been an accident, but you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between you and Yoongi.

---

"You need to talk to him, Y/N."

"I-I know," you began, rubbing your temples, "but I have no idea where to start, I mean I just walked out on him, he probably hates me."

You and your best friend, Mina, had been sitting together in your apartment while you sulked over Yoongi, trying to figure out how you would speak to him again. Mina had been your rock through thick and thin, and now she was determined to help you out of this mess.

"Just think about it, Y/N. You owe it to yourself to at least try and resolve this. You can't just let things remain the way they are."

You nodded, biting your lip in frustration. "You're right, Mina. I just...I don't know where to start."

Mina smiled, placing her hand on your shoulder. "Well, you could start by sending him a message. You know, just a simple olive branch to let him know you're willing to talk."

"But...I walked out on him. I can't just text him after all that," you threw your face into your hands, "I feel so bad."

"Look Y/N," Mina began, "I know you feel bad but if you don't think that a text or a call is the right thing to do, then...I don't know what to say."

You scoffed, "Wow, thanks, that really puts things into perspective."

Mina laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright. But seriously, you need to figure out what you want to do, Y/N. It's been a few days, and if you don't make a move, you could lose him all together."

"I know, I know, you're right."

"Of course I am." Mina got up from where she was sitting, a soft smile on her face, "I have to go, but keep me updated."

"I will."

---

You lay restless in your bed, moonlight casting silver shadows on the walls. The clock's red digits flickered to 12:00 A.M., taunting you with each passing second. Sleep remained elusive, for Yoongi's face flickered behind your closed eyes, his laughter echoing in your ears.

You couldn't shake the feeling that their misunderstanding had driven a wedge between them.

Why did you have to fuck everything up?

"Damn it," you muttered under your breath, tossing and turning, your tangled sheets a testament to your inner turmoil.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to find a solution to mend your fractured friendship with Yoongi. Desperation bubbled up within you until it burst like a geyser, propelling you out of bed.

"Fuck this," you hissed, flinging the covers off your body. With a newfound determination, you slipped into sweatpants and a hoodie, the fabric comforting against your skin.

You rummaged through the darkness, fingers closing around the familiar leather of your coat.

Your heart pounded like a drum as you prepared to step out into the cold night air, fueled by the need to speak with Yoongi and set things right.

You made your way through the hallway, and out the door of your apartment, each step setting a path towards your journey outside.

The cold winter night had wrapped its icy fingers around the city, but your determination burned like a fire inside your chest.

As you walked towards Yoongi's apartment, your breath condensed into fleeting clouds that disappeared as quickly as they were born.

You glanced around, taking in the peaceful serenity of the snow-covered streets, the faint glow of the streetlights casting long shadows.

"Just talk to him, Y/N," you muttered under your breath, your words barely audible over the sound of your boots crunching on the snow beneath your feet.

When you finally arrived at the building, you rushed through the lobby without so much as a glance at the receptionist who looked up from her desk, startled by your sudden entrance.

The receptionist called after you, "Wait! Ma'am!" but you were already pressing the elevator button with impatience, your thoughts consumed by the urgency to reach Yoongi and set things straight.

"Out of order?" you read aloud, voice trembling with frustration. The sign taped to the elevator door mocked you, leaving you with no choice but to turn to the stairwell.

You hesitated for a moment, staring up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs. Yoongi lived on the highest floor, and the thought of climbing all the way up there was daunting. But the fire inside you continued to rage, and you knew there was no turning back now.

"Alright then," you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath before dashing up the stairs, utterly determined.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you hurried up flight after flight, ignoring the burning sensation in your legs. Each step brought you closer to Yoongi, closer to the confrontation you knew the both of you desperately needed.

Finally, gasping for breath, you reached the top and stood outside Yoongi's door. You raised your fist and banged on it forcefully, your voice raised in desperation, "Yoongi, I need to talk to you,"

Silence. You could feel the heaviness of it pressing down on you, but you refused to let it deter you.

"Yoongi! Open the door, please I know you're in there," you spoke again, louder this time.

The door finally swung open, revealing Yoongi's tired and weary face. As your eyes met, you saw a sadness in his that you had never seen before, and it threatened to extinguish the fire inside you.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

With a sigh, he lowered his head, but he stepped aside from the doorframe, creating room for you to enter.

"What do you want?" He mumbled, still avoiding your gaze.

The weight of his question was heavy, but you didn't waver. You stepped into his apartment, feeling the warmth of the air against your skin.

"I came here to say that I'm sorry," you began, your voice barely audible, "I shouldn't have left like that. I was scared, and I didn't know how to handle things. I was wrong to run away, and I want you to know that I'm here now."

Yoongi remained silent, staring at his hands as if they were foreign to him.

You leaned towards him, grasping his bicep in your hand.

He flinched at the sudden touch, but didn't shy away.

"Please, look at me, Yoongi," you whispered, your eyes pleading with him to understand.

Your fingers wrap tightly around his arm, and you look up into his eyes, attempting to convey the sincerity of your words.

"Please, I-I just..."

Your let your hand fall back your side, trembling slightly, as your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and regret.

You stumbled over her words, speaking at a rapid pace, desperate to communicate the weight of her remorse.

"Look, I know I messed up, okay? I didn't mean to just...run out on you like that. It was so stupid and thoughtless and, god, I'm so sorry, I really am."

He opened his mouth to say something, "Y/N--" but you cut him off, your voice rising in pitch as your anxiety grew.

"I've been thinking about it nonstop, and I hate myself for doing that to you and then just completely avoiding you afterwards. I was scared, and I panicked, and I didn't want to face what was happening between us."

"Y/N--" Again, he tried to interrupt, but you continued your rambling, feeling a knot tighten in your chest as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

"Every time I think about how I left you like that I feel terrible. I can't stand the thought that I hurt you like that. I never wanted to be the type of person who runs away when things like that happen, but that's exactly what I did."

Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.

Still, you refused to let him get a word in, terrified that if he spoke, it would confirm your worst fears – that you had irreparably damaged you friendship with him.

"Since then, I've been replaying that night in my head over and over again, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I should have stayed. We should have talked it out like adults. But instead, I behaved like a coward, and now I'm afraid I've lost you for good."

At last, you paused for breath, your chest heaving as you stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

He took a step closer, his expression unreadable, and she braced yourself for the impact of his words – whatever they may be.

Just as you were about the reply, Yoongi closed the distance between the two of you, his lips gently touching yours in a tender, slow kiss.

Yoongi's lips were soft as he pulled back, a small smile on his face as he looked at you, his fingers tangling in your hair. He tugged gently, causing you to lean forward, his breath hot against your lips as he spoke. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

You smiled and leaned in, your noses brushing against each other as the two of you breathed each other in deeply.

The air was filled with the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke mixing with the warmth of his body. "Oh really? How long have you wanted to?" you whispered, heart racing as he moved closer, resting his forehead against yours. His warmth seeped into you, making you shiver.

Slowly, Yoongi's lips brushed against yours teasingly before pressing firmly, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer. Your kiss was soft and gentle at first, a slow exploration of each other's mouths, tasting and teasing. The feeling of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, a low moan escaping your throat as you parted your lips slightly, inviting him in more. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you eagerly opened up for him, welcoming him in.

The taste of him was addictive, like fine wine and coffee, with a hint of sweetness that lingered on your tongue long after the kiss.

You ran your fingers up his neck and threaded your fingers through his messy hair.

You pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, your body melting into his as they molded together. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, his other hand finding its way to your waist and pulling you even tighter against him.

Your tongues danced together, twirling and dueling playfully, your mouths opening wider to allow for more exploration. His kiss was demanding now, and you gave in willingly, your body arching into him as he took control.

You kissed him back just as passionately, your tongue tangling with his, breaths heavy and labored. He gripped your hips tighter, grinding against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to kiss you deeply, your body trembling with anticipation.

You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the sound of his rapid breaths mingling with your own.

The heat between the two of you grew, along with your desire, and you felt yourself opening up to him more than ever before.

"Jump." He growled, his lips still brushing against yours.

With a small whimper, you obeyed, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as he stepped forward, nearly pinning you against the wall.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along the way, making you shiver.

Your head fell back as he bit lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking gently. His hot breath fanned across your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms.

You sighed in contentment as Yoongi's warmth continued to envelop you, your heart racing in anticipation. In the nights you spent alone in your room, you had replayed this moment countless times in your head, imagining how it would feel to be in his arms, to feel the softness of his lips against yours. But the reality was far more intense than you ever could have imagined. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, every groan vibrating against your skin made you tremble with desire.

With a sudden surge of impatience, Yoongi dropped you to your feet, roughly ripping off his shirt, his muscles rippling beneath his skin in the process, revealing a chiseled torso that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him bare before you, his shoulders broad and strong, his arms corded with strength. You traced one of them with your fingertips, marveling at the definition of his biceps.

His abs were like etched stone, each dip and curve perfectly defined. As you trailed your fingers lower, you could feel his heart racing under your touch. He groaned softly, a deep rumble that vibrated through your body. You traced the trail of hair that led from his navel to his jeans, which were already unbuttoned and half-unzipped. You paused for a moment, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He growled low in his throat, a mix of irritation and desire, and you smiled before sliding your fingers inside his boxers to touch his hot skin.

He was warm and hard, pulsing beneath your fingertips. You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat radiate off him like an open flame. He gasped softly as you began to stroke him, slowly at first, then faster when he closed his eyes and arched into your touch. The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to make your heart race. In response, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his neck, sucking softly on his flesh. His hands fisted in your hair, holding you close.

"F-fuck, Y/N...w-wait," he grabbed your wrist, halting your actions before burying his face into your neck.

Letting go of you, he sighed allowing his hands to roam down your back, over your hips, until he reached the hem of your hoodie. He pulled it up slowly, revealing your red lace bra beneath.

You gasped at the sudden change in temperature before he lowered his head to suck on your neck, nipping at your skin lightly.

Your heart raced as he undid the clasp, the cool air caressing your warm skin. The bra fell to the floor, leaving your chest bare for his view.

He merely glanced for a moment before drawing his eyes back up to yours, "You're so beautiful."

He trailed his fingers down your side, over the curve of your breast, and cupped it gently in his hand.

"Everything about you...I don't think I'll ever get enough."

Yoongi's breath hitched as you arched into his touch, your nipple hardening under his palm. His thumb circled around the bud, rolling it between his fingers. He dipped his head and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking softly as you moaned.

The feeling of his lips on your skin sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps rising on your arms. You felt hot and cold all at once, your knees weak.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from his face as he looked up at you, his eyes hooded with lust.

Your gaze dropped to his hand, still massaging your breast even as he slipped it lower.

He used his free hand to hook his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them down slowly, his lips never leaving your skin.

You were left in just your underwear now, your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage.

He swallowed your moan as he finally pulled away, his hand sliding up your thigh. He cupped you through your lacy underwear, gasping at the heat that pooled between your legs.

His fingers danced over your drenched folds, teasing your clit as he peeled your panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them, your knees shaking ever so slightly. It was like being in a trance, every nerve ending alive and screaming for him.

He slipped his fingers out of your dripping center, holding them up to the light to emphasize the shine of your slick that glistened coated them.

"Taste yourself." He whispered,his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You obeyed, closing your eyes as you leaned forward to taste yourself on his fingers. The salty-sweet flavor was intoxicating, and you swirled your tongue around his digits, feeling him watching your every move.

He groaned, his eyes locked on your mouth, as you slowly licked his fingers clean. The air was thick with anticipation as he continued to watch you.

Grinning, he suddenly dropped down onto his knees before you, kneading his fingers into the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. His eyes never left your face as he positioned himself between your legs.

You could feel his breath on your sensitive skin, the heat of his body radiating towards you as he leaned in closer. His eyes locked with yours, his gaze filled with hunger and desire. You felt your body tremble in anticipation, your breath hitched as you waited for what would come next.

"Yoongi what are you-- oh, fuck!"

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your hips jerking forward. It was barely a lick, but it sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. He took his time, lapping at your folds, teasing and tasting, his fingers lightly brushing against your clit with each pass of his tongue. You moaned, throwing your head back and giving in to the pleasure.

"Yoongi..." you breathed, your voice hoarse. His name was a plea and a command all in one. He chuckled softly, the vibration sending waves of delight through you. With one hand still teasing your entrance, he used the other to spread your folds, exposing you to his hungry gaze. And then he dove in, tongue circling your entrance, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves within. Your walls clenched around his tongue, begging for more.

"Please," you whimpered, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He hummed in agreement, pushing deeper, his nose brushing against your entrance as he lapped at it. You squirmed underneath him, your hips bucking against his face as you tried to get closer.

The taste of you, sweet and tangy and salty, filled his mouth. He lapped at you greedily, groaning around your folds as he tried to get as much of you as he could. Your moans and gasps echoed in the room, mingling with lewd sounds Yoongi was making as he lapped at your core.

With one hand still gripping his hair, you arched your back and cried out as he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive spots. Your hips rocked wildly, grinding against his face as he drove you closer and closer to orgasm.

His growls and moans were music to your ears, fueling your desire and making your heart race. You could feel the heat building deep within you, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you reached your peak.

Yoongi is relentless, his tongue never slowing down as he continued to pleasure you. You threw your head back, your eyes screwed shut as you prepared for the moment of pure bliss.

"Yoongi, fuck I-I'm so close." you whimpered, begging for release from the pleasure building inside of you.

He chuckled slightly against your folds, loving the way you squirmed beneath him. With one hand, he spread your legs wider, giving himself better access. His mouth closed around your clit as he lapped up every drop of your arousal.

As he worked you up into a frenzy, you begged him not to stop, pleading for release, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth.

Yoongi loved the raw hunger in your voice, the way you trembled and squirmed under his expert ministrations.

His talented tongue was working wonders on you, and you began to feel familiar knot begin to build in the pit of your stomach.

You were close, so close.

"Yoongi, I-I'm gonna-- shit!"

And when you came, it was everything he'd hoped for—a scream torn from your throat as you shook and spasmed beneath him, your wet heat coating his face. Your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to feast on your cunt, drinking in every last drop of your sweet nectar.

Finally satiated, he lifted his head, dragging his tongue over her swollen nub lazily and you flinched from over stimulation before making his way back up to meet your eyes, holding you close to keep you from falling off balance, "You taste so good."

You smiled, cupping his cheeks in your hands, "Take me to your bedroom."

Nodding, he gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, as he carried you towards the bedroom. His eyes remained locked with yours, brimming with longing and urgency. The sensation of your body against his, the touch of your velvety skin, and the warmth of your breath on his neck overwhelmed him, stirring a powerful desire within him.

"I want you so bad," he whispered, his voice ragged.

You rested your head on his shoulder as he carried you, "I want you too," you breathed, your heart pounding against his chest in time with his own, "more than anything."

Yoongi stumbles through the hallway, holding onto you firmly but not too tightly, his steps becoming more and more certain as he gets closer to his bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot, almost losing his balance but managing to regain it just in time.

The room is dimly lit, with only a small desk lamp on, casting shadows across the walls and the floor. He slowly lowers himself onto the bed, cradling you in his arms as you lay your head on his chest.

To him, you hair smells like vanilla and you feel soft against his rough skin. His heart beats fast in anticipation as he looks down at you, taking in the way your eyes flutter closed and your breathing deepens as you lean into him. "Yoongi..." you whisper before trailing off, your voice barely audible even to herself.

With a sudden burst of energy, he pulls you closer, rolling so that you're on top of him and he's beneath you, your exposed cunt pressing roughly against his clothed cock.

Your hips grind together, and he groans at the feeling.

His hands trail up your sides, tracing the outline of your ribs before cupping your breasts. You gasp, your nipples hardening beneath his touch. He dips his head to capture one in his mouth, sucking gently as he groans against your skin. It tastes sweet and salty and intoxicating.

You look at him, a wry smile etched into your features as you press a chaste kiss to his lips, "Let me make you feel good,"

You slide off his waste slowly before kissing your way down his chest, tracing your fingers along his abs, along the thin trail of hair that leads from his lower abdomen to the waistband of his pants before finally reaching for the obvious tenting in his pants, palming him through his jeans.

He groans slightly, his breath hitched as your fingers brush against the evidence of his arousal. You smile without looking up, knowing the effect you're having on him.

Without any further hesitation, you unbuckled the belt of Yoongi's jeans and slid them down, his length straining painfully against his boxers.

With a smirk, you teased Yoongi by running your fingers over his underwear-clad dick through the fabric, feeling it twitch and throb.

Yoongi let out a low groan as he felt your soft hands stroking him through his boxers.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his cock out, freeing it from its confines. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the jutting length of his dick in your hands. It was thick and veiny, standing tall against your palms.

You ran your thumb over the head, gathering the precum that had formed there before leaning down and wrapping your mouth around the tip, forcing a strained moan out of Yoongi as he quickly threaded his fingers through your hair.

"H-holy shit, Y/N, that feels so-- fuck."

The taste of Yoongi instantly filled your senses as you explored him with your tongue, circling the head and teasing his slit. The hand on your head gently began guiding you as you started to take more of him into your mouth.

Each bob of your head made a wet, sloppy noise as you sucked him off, taking more and more of him each time.

You could taste the pre-cum on the tip, and you couldn't wait to swallow it all down. As your mouth sank further down onto his cock, you let your lips brush against Yoongi's shaft and listened to the slapping noise as your wet mouth engulfed him.

You could feel the vein pulsing on top, and the smell of his arousal filled your nostrils.

You looked up at him, eyes meeting Yoongi's, and he thought about how damn attractive you looked with your cheeks hollowed out and lips red from around his dick.

With a soft moan, you leaned forward and swallowed him down, taking him to the base of his throat. You slowly started moving up and down, taking him in and out of your mouth, licking and sucking at the same time.

You could feel his hands gripping into your scalp, holding him tightly as you deepthroated him. The room fell silent, only the sounds of your tongue lapping at his cock and the wet, sucking noises could be heard.

Before you could take him deeper and swallow around him again, he grabbed your hair, roughly pulling you off of his dick.

You looked at him, confused, waiting for him to speak his mind.

"Not yet," he panted, his eyes wild and focused on your lips. "I need to be inside you."

He stood up, and you could see the strain in his muscles as he struggled to control himself.

"What are you waiting for, Yoongi?" you teased, your eyes never leaving his.

He let out a shaky breath, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. With trembling hands, he leaned down, fully removing his jeans.

Yoongi's breath hitched in his throat as he took a step closer to you, positioning himself between your legs.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he bent down, his eyes locked onto your own, filled with lust.

Your heart raced as he gently pulled your hips off the bed, lifting you up and guiding you towards the edge.

His hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your wetness as he slowly began to press inside you.

You gasped as he entered you, feeling him stretch you open.

His eyes locked onto yours, his breath hitched as you clenched around him, pulling him in deeper.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice ragged with desire.

Slowly, he began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours as he thrust inside you. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as your eyes met his, lost in the intensity of the moment.

With each thrust, you both let out soft moans, the sounds mingling with the wet slap of skin against skin. It felt like a million different sensations all at once - the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the friction of his dick sliding in and out of you, the pulsing veins of his cock, and the way his lips brushed against yours as he kissed you.

Your hips began to meet his thrusts, rising up to meet him as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. It was as if he was searching for something in the depths of your soul, and you were right there with him, searching for the same thing.

"Y-Yoongi, please," You whimpered, silently begging him to move faster.

Suddenly, as if a light switch went off he gritted his teeth and growled, beginning to thrust roughly into you, filling you with each and every inch of his length.

You moaned loudly beneath him, nails digging into his back as he took you like he owned you, his hips slapping against yours in a primal rhythm that echoed in the small room.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!” You mewl, arching your back.

His breathing was ragged as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and intense. “That’s right baby girl, take my cock. Take it all.” He pulled out slightly before slamming back in, feeling yours walls clench around him, loving the sensation.

He could feel the intensity building inside of him, the need to release slowly beginning to build inside of him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and demanding. "You feel so good." He slid one of his hands between your bodies, teasing your clit as he continued to pound into you.

"O-oh my god, Yoongi, I-I'm so close..."

He loved hearing you moan his name. It fueled his desire, made him lose control even more.

He grabbed your hair with his free hand and pulled your head back, exposing your neck to him, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your shoulder and collarbone as you moved together.

"Yoongi, please," you pleaded, your voice quivering.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper. The way he touched you, possessed you, owned you...it was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

His rough hands on your skin made you shiver, and you could feel the heat between the two of you growing more intense with every passing second.

His hips snapped forward, his cock hitting your G-spot just right, and you cried out, your body shaking. "Yes," you moaned, your whole body tingling. "Right there. Oh fuck, right there!" You arched your back, meeting his movements, your nails digging into his skin as you felt a familiar coil began form inside of you.

"F-fuck, Yoongi, I'm so close, please!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock, princess?"

You could no longer form any words, simply responding with a strained moan.

"Beg for it."

Your eyes locked with his, pleading for the release you both craved. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely audible. "I need you to make me cum, Yoongi, Please!"

Yoongi's face was a mix of pleasure and dominance as he watched you lose control. He thrust faster, harder, swallowing your moans among his own as they filled the room.

"Good girl," he growled, his eyes locked onto yours.

At the sound of those words, something within you snapped. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything in your life.

The air was thick with the scent of sex and desire as you both surrendered to the intensity of the moment.

You suddenly felt the pressure building, the heat between you two intensifying. Your body began to shake uncontrollably as you felt the orgasm you had been craving for so long finally taking over.

"Oh fuck, Yoongi, I'm-- shit!" you screamed, your voice echoing through the room.

Yoongi watched, his eyes filled with satisfaction, as you exploded around his cock. Your nails dug deeper into his skin, and he felt you tighten around him like a vice.

Feeling your walls clenching around his cock, it sent him over the edge as well. He moaned your name as he came inside you, his body shaking violently as he emptied himself inside you.

Your bodies kept moving, pulsing together as the wave of orgasm continued to wash over you both.

As the intensity subsides, Yoongi's weakened legs give way and he collapses against you, his chest pressed against yours, both of you breathless and covered in perspiration, utterly spent.

Gradually, as your breathing steadies, you attempt to shift and free yourself from underneath him. However, Yoongi swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, refusing to let you go, holding you close against him as he turns you both so that you're facing each other on your sides.

Yoongi's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of lust, love, and something deeper - a connection that went beyond the physical. His fingers gently traced the curves of your face, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

You could feel the heat and energy from his body pulsating through you, and the aftershocks of your orgasm still reverberating within you. The intensity of the moment had left you both breathless, and yet there was a sense of peace that enveloped you as you lay there, entwined with one another.

Without saying a word, Yoongi tenderly lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours, and he spoke into the silence, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Yoongi."

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loveliestlovelygirl · 3 months

Text

after hours

boss!anakin x secretary!reader

synopsis: since you slept together, anakin, your boss, has been acting pretty much normal around you. on occasion he flirts with you and leaves you little gifts. but you start to question if he sees you as little more than an office plaything.

w.c: 1.2k

highlights: {minors dni} requested anonymously, sexual content and themes, power imbalance, infidelity mentioned, explicit language, brief mentions of domestic abuse

Every single shift after you made the terrible decision of sleeping with your boss, you find a purple rose on your desk. And you have collected enough to make a bouquet which stands in a tall glass right beside your computer. Neither of you have had much time to talk about what happened afterwards. He’s been caught up in his work, and you’ve been caught up in managing his life and coffee orders.

Every time he passes your desk to get to his own office, he flashes his smile and gives you a little wink, letting you know that he hasn’t forgotten what happened. But you don’t know why he seems uninterested in talking about it. You’re too afraid to bring it up to him because… well, he’s your boss. And you’re not exactly sure of where you stand with him anymore. The dynamics of your professional relationship is just as fucked up as you had been on your desk only last week.

God, it’s embarrassing to remember how many documents were destroyed in the hurricane that had been desperate sex with Anakin. You wonder how long it had been since he’d fucked because he acted as though he was deprived. Considering his tumultuous relationship with his beauty queen wife, it all added up though. He needed a release. And you held your legs wide open for him.

It wouldn’t surprise you if he sees you only as a quick fuck, an office plaything to entertain himself with when his wife is upset. Each time you imagine that likely reality you chip off a piece of your self-image.

When he walks through past your desk this morning to begin the day, Anakin stops at the entrance to his office and turns to you. “Mind staying late today?”

You narrow your eyes at him slightly. “Why?”

He freezes for a moment as if he didn’t expect you to question his authority. “Well…” he crosses his arms, “Work stuff.”

You give him a sigh. Something is up. You can tell by the mischievous grin he wears as he looks at you. “I promised I’d meet my friends for drinks later.”

He opens his door a little wider to reveal his liquor cabinet. “I’ll make you one.”

“Are you asking me to have a drink with you?”

He gives you a shy smile and closes the door behind him. He knows you won’t chase after him. You’re too afraid to stand up to him. The dynamics have shifted even further in his favor now that you’ve slept with him.

You hit your hands against your face. You stupid, stupid girl!

Most people had left by five o’clock. The forty-floored skyscraper is a ghost town. As you wait at your desk for your boss to finish up, you swear you can hear yourself think. You nearly scream when he opens the door because you were lost in your thoughts completely. He waves you in, and he’s holding a red drink in his hand.

That’s your drink. A cosmopolitan. How’d he know that?

He hands it to you as you walk in. It’s love at the first sip. Apparently, the famous CEO is also a cocktail expert.

“How is it?” he asks.

You sip slowly, pacing yourself. “Good. Thank you.”

Anakin offers you his office chair, burgundy, shiny faux-leather, and rolls across the floor as if it’s ice. As heat rushes to your cheeks, you accept his kindness and sit, crossing your legs daintily.

He steps over to his personal bar and pours himself a glass of wine. He swirls it around in his glass a couple times before taking a big sip. Then he turns to you again.

“So,” he mutters.

You smile. “What work stuff did you wanna go over.”

Anakin stands in front of you as if to purposefully occupy your entire view. He takes another sip before finally answering.

“Fine. You’ve got me. Not work stuff.”

You mask your surprised expression by sipping on your own drink. Honestly, you don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s stupid, but you don’t want to assume it’s to talk about your intimate encounter though you wouldn’t mind trying it again. You’ve started wearing matching lingerie every day to work.

“I was hoping…” he hangs his head as he grabs your hand, “we wouldn’t be a one-time thing.”

“What are you asking for, Anakin? Sex?”

With a grin on his lips, he glances up at you again. “You. That’s what I want.”

You set your glass on his desk with a white clink echoing through. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he repeats. “All to myself.”

“You know, I could have a boyfriend,” you say standing up, facing him.

“Well… I hope he doesn’t mind that you’re going to be working overtime…” he pauses and sets his drink beside your glass, “almost every night.”

Of course, his arrogance shouldn’t turn you on like it does, the presumptuousness of his assumption that you’ll be spending every night with him. But it works on you. His unbreakable confidence in everything he does amazes you, and you fall harder somehow. You throw your arms around his neck, and he leans your body back, his hands cupping your ass, and he kisses your deeply. His lips taste of sweet wine and the cigars he smokes sometimes. You chase his tongue into his mouth. And he likes it.

His hands start to lift the edges of your pencil skirt, seeking you. You push back to stop him. You want to take this slowly. Not like last time. Last time was messy and fast. You were swept away by the most animalistic passions.

This time you want to savor him. Savor his touch, the way he feels against your skin, the taste of his body, and the scent of his cologne.

You start with his tie, pulling it down from the back of his neck. It’s blue silk a little darker than his eyes. You unbutton his white dress shirt, slowly revealing the skin beneath decorated by curly hair. Against your fingers, it’s downy soft. You nuzzle his chest with your nose and with your mouth and with your tongue.

He rolls his shirt off and it falls behind him to the floor. Next, you deftly tackle his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it through the loops. The metal clatters on the hard floor, but you don’t stop.

In your last encounter, all he managed was to rip your panties off and unzip his fly. He could hardly wait to get inside you. And it had been a tight fight, even with his attempts to ready your body.

This time you fully undress each other and fully embrace your natural states during this intimate meeting. Anakin admires your body, rubbing his hands up and down the sides of your hips, savoring your breasts.

You like this softer side to him. The life he lives has hardened him. You have to be cutthroat to survive. And you know he’s done things he’s not proud of.

But you know his heart. And right now, his heart is for you.

He’s looking down at you in the same way he used to towards his wife. All you can hope for is that his feelings for you will last.

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months

Text

Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

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sim0nril3y · 5 months

Text

12 Days of Kinkmas | Day One: Toys

Note: It is the begining of the 12 Days of Kinkmas and we are starting off with toys! Enjoy! Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, use of toys (m receiving), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), canon-typical swearing.

After an evening out with your girlfriends having a little Christmas celebration with some festive cocktails, pulling of Christmas crackers and even a joyful present exchange. You had purchased a nice stationery set for your chosen friend and the one that had received your name had gotten you a very interesting present. It sent you into a fit of laughter but then your mind had spiralled with dozen different ideas.

As you had returned home to Simon, he was watched football highlights on the TV, finishing his second beer of the night, eyes flitting from the screen and then back to where you were happily telling him about your evening. “… Oh, and I got a present…” You held out the festive themed bag, tag hanging off with the writing ‘Hope you have a very Merry Christmas xo’

“Lucky you…” Simon mentioned, slipping the silk handles from your fingers and peaking inside, seeing a box tucked away inside. “You already opened this?” Quirking a brow and gazing in your direction as you nodded in response at him. “You know only naught girls open their presents early…” He muttered with a teasing edge to his tone. “Well, I think you’re going to want to open this one too, Simon~”

A moment later he tugged open the bag and pulled out a box. A frown plastered his lips as he turned it around to view the proud display of a small wand vibrator across the front, descriptive words announcing just how powerful the device was and the amount of settings that it had. “Bloody hell.” Simon muttered, glancing at you then with a little smirk. “What’ve you been telling your friends about me? They think I can’t make you cum or something?”

The most delightful giggle fell from your lips. “No, I think I know who this is from and they are just very sex positive.” Then shrugging a little as you pinched it from his hands and observed the box. “They probably gifted it for us to use together~” You teased with a wiggle of your brows.

For a moment Simon looked frazzled, then laughed. “Seems like more of a gift for you, love.” Then patting your knee. “I’m not opposed to you having fun with it though.” He squeezed then gently with a tender smile. “Go on. Up to bed. I’ll be up in a bit.”

The toy remained in the box until well over a week later, Simon was laying back on your bed, legs spread with you knelt between them, carefully removing your mouth from Simon’s rigid cock and glancing up into his eyes with a mischiefs smile on your face. “Why don’t we give our new toy a try?” Your hand wrapped around and massaging his cock up and down slowly.

“Babe…” Simon huffed, head tilted back into the pillow and choking out a soft moan. “It’s not gonna… gonna feel good for me. You use it and I’ll watch.” He encouraged softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek soothingly. “How do you know it won’t feel good if you don’t try?” Tilting your head into his touch gently and nuzzling into him. “We can take it slow. We can take it at your pace, baby.” You coaxed.

For a moment or two Simon remained quiet and then you said. “I don’t want to pressure you. I won’t-” “We can try.” Cutting you off and gazing at you warmly. Simon can feel the excitement rushing through you, the way your hand squeezes his length and then excitedly reach into the bedside draw to yank it open and tug out the box. It was clear this wasn’t the first time that you were opening it, the box opened with ease and the toy rolled out into your open palm. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” You promised in a sweet tone, beginning to speed up your hand on his cock, tapping the button on the vibrator and smiling as it buzzed to life.

“Babe-” Each of times thoughts and worries seemed to wash away the moment that the head of the vibrator nestled against the underside of the head of his cock. “Fuckin’ hell.” He grit out through his teeth, chin tilted up and panting gently before glancing back down at your overly pleased face. “That feel good?”

Reaching out Simon’s hand gripped onto your wrist, holding it between his fingers so tight you were sure that it was going to leave marks. “Do you want more or less?” You questioned, glancing up at him to try and gauge his reaction.

“K-keep going.” Simon ground out in particularly a snarl, tilting his head back again as his hips arched up. “Okay~” You purred playfully, carefully rolling the vibrator around the head of his cock trying to find the most sensitive place to play with.

There was no denying that Simon looked so damn handsome like this. His strong form was pulled taut, flexing and rippling each time you tried a new place. His cock was leaking down over your hand down, fighting back an intense orgasm that was going to burst from him. “D-don’t st-stop…” He requested in little more than a grunt, his hips flexing upwards to attempt to fuck into your hand. “Hey… Hey…” You coaxed him softly. “Let me… let me do this for you.”

Carefully moving the vibrator his shaft and nestling it under his balls that were drawn up tight, leaning forward you wrapped your lips around the engorged head of his cock, listening to him groan lowly. It was a mere few minutes of suckling before Simon emptied into your mouth with a low grunt, eyes rolling, toes curling, muscles contacting.

Turning off the vibrator and placing it aside Simon huffed and whined, body convulsing a few more times before practically melting into the sheets. “You okay?” You questioned, rubbing your hand over his lower stomach soothingly. “Yeah…” Simon huffed. “Yeah, m’good.” Glancing down at you with tired dark eyes, soft smile playing on his lips. “Good.” You giggled gently. “Does this mean that you’re gonna trust me next time that I say something is gonna feel good?” Your free hand rubbed his inner thigh and Simon smirked before snatching it away and growling out. “Don’t push it.”

12 Days of Kinkmas | Regular Masterlist | Ask | 14-12-2023

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #ghost call of duty #ghost mw3 #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost smut

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literaryavenger · 23 days

Text

Careless

Summary: Part 2 of Thoughtful.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Warnings: My poor attempts at being funny. No use of Y/N. Fluff. Angst. Tony being kind of an asshole. Bucky's self-deprecating thoughts. Reader being dumb.

Word Count: 1K

A/N: I keep having no idea what this is, I have no endgame but I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 1

Stark parties are a hassle. Tony always insists on the team dressing up, cocktail dresses, tuxedos and all that.

So that’s why you’re all dolled up right now, a black sparkly floor-length gown that highlights your curves perfectly with a slit that goes up your left thigh with black stilettos, your hair curled perfectly and your make-up on point thanks to Natasha and Wanda, gold hoop earrings finishing the ensemble.

The only thing that looks like it doesn’t belong on your right now are Bucky’s dog tags hanging from your neck.

Things with Bucky have been going relatively good, you’re not really dating but neither of you let a moment pass without trying to flirt with each other. You enjoy the attention he only gives you and he enjoys making you flustered.

You’ve even managed to make him blush himself a few times.

You haven’t taken his dog tags off since that morning Bucky put them on you, and that’s not gone unnoticed by the team who have had a field day teasing you about it. Just never enough to bother you and make you want to take them off.

Until now.

“Come on, they look so out of place!” Tony says while chuckling as you roll your eyes, drink in hand while you stand in the middle of the party while talking with Tony, Scott and Maria.

“Leave her alone, Stark.” Maria comes to your defense and you give her a grateful smile. All the girls think it’s adorable that you wear Bucky’s tags.

“He’s not wrong, though.” Scott chimes in. “That’s a beautiful get up, but the tags stand out, and not in a good way.”

Anyone else, you’d be creeped out, but you know Scott is in a happy relationship with Hope and he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s more of a girlfriend at this point.

“I don’t care.” You say simply, sipping your drink. “I like them, and I’m not taking them off.”

“You haven’t taken them off in weeks.” Tony points out, a dangerous smirk starting to grow on his face. “Could it have anything to do with the particular soldier that gave them to you?”

You roll your eyes, knowing where Tony’s going with this because he’s gone there countless times now.

“It has nothing to do with Bucky, I just like them.” You say causally.

“You like him.” Tony says childishly while the other two snicker at your groan. “Maybe you even love him.”

You scoff and almost glare at Tony. “I don’t love him.”

“Then prove it.” Tony says without missing a beat. Obviously he has you exactly where he wants you. “Take them off.”

“What would that even prove?” You roll your eyes again.

“Prove to me that they don’t mean as much to you as I think they do. Take them off.” He keeps grinning at you, challenging you.

“You’re a child.” You say simply, having no intention to accept this silly challenge.

“Yes, I am.” He says and all four of you chuckle, before Tony takes it one step further. “Take them off for a week and I’ll give you ten thousand dollars.”

You give him an unimpressed look. It’s not a surprise, Tony’s known to do this kind of thing all the time. He once bet Sam twenty thousand dollars if he went streaking for at least 4 blocks around the tower.

His ‘falcon’ was on the paper the next day.

“Come on, if you’re so sure I’m wrong, why not make some money off my arrogance.” Tony says with a smirk when you narrow your eyes at him, he knows you’re considering it.

“Fine.” You say after a pause. You hesitantly take the tags off and put them on Tony’s outstretched hand. It’s only a week and it doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky saw the whole thing from a distance. And it meant plenty to him.

He couldn’t hear what you were saying even with his enhanced hearing because you were far away and the party noise was almost deafening, but Bucky saw you clearly as you took off his tags and gave them to Tony.

To Tony.

Did they not mean as much to you as they did to him? Was this whole thing just a joke to you? Was he making a fool out of himself thinking you liked him as much as he liked you? Maybe you just liked the attention. Maybe you were fucking with him, having fun at his expense because he convinced himself you like him, because how could he even think someone like you actually likes him? Maybe you’ve been laughing behind his back while he’s been falling for yo-

“Hey, Sergeant Grumpy.” His thoughts are interrupted by your playful voice that just a minute ago was the single greatest sound that he wanted as the soundtrack of his existence for the rest of his life.

But right now, it’s making his nostrils flare with barely contained anger while he almost glares at you.

You think nothing of it, convincing yourself that maybe the party is making him anxious like it usually does. After all, Bucky doesn’t do good with strangers.

Or maybe Sam has been getting on his nerves more than usual tonight. Whatever it is, you want to make him feel better.

So you wrap your hand around the tie of his suit and pull him towards you a little, copying the move he’s now done countless times with his dog tags around your neck.

“You wanna hear something funny?” You ask playfully, wanting to tell him about the bet you just made with Tony and thinking Bucky will get a kick out of it and it’ll take his mind off of whatever has him in a bad mood.

But you get no chance to say anything more since he takes your hand away from his tie.

“Leave me alone.” He says with a harsh tone you’ve never heard him use towards anyone, let alone you. “Forever.”

That said, he walks off and out of the room in the direction of his quarters without giving you a second glance, leaving you to look after him, too dumbfounded as your mind tries to play catch-up.

What the hell just happened?

Requested Taglist: @marvelcasey05 @ordelixx @alltoounwellread @capswife @sapphirebarnes @rio-reid-whoreee @theunknownmarveluser @alltoowellread @a-very-fictional-girl @geeky-politics-46 @winters1917 @yujyujj @blackhawkfanatic @hot-cheeto5739

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asmodaywritesstuff · 18 days

Text

--Summary-- You meet your Professor at a bar and it goes better than you expected.

NSFW Content, Oral Sex (F recieving), Vaginal Sex, Age difference! (I imagined Death Island Leon for this), Teacher!Leon x Student!Reader, dilfs with big boobies, Bad wording (English isn't my first language), and cringe. like big cringe. Also, this is my first fanfic, and I'm just transferring it from AO3 to Tumblr. I didn't do a rework sadly, but I hope it's not too bad-

You had always been a good student. You got along with everyone, even your teachers. Nobody could hate you, you were always cheerful, happy and nice to everyone.

But there was one single person that somehow hated your guts, and you never knew why.

Your history professor, Mr. Kennedy.

You didn't know why, but he liked everyone else in his classroom, except you.

Snarky remarks about your work were a daily occurrence by now, and to be fair, it did make you feel very upset. He just seemed so unbelievably mad at you, and for what?

Leon was a grumpy guy in his 40’s, and you were just a college student. You always paid attention in his classes, and you would always raise your hand at any given opportunity to solve a problem he had given, but everyone else got A’s and B’s while you got a D-.

It really sucked since it managed to lower your grade average by a lot. This guy really made you mad. You were a good student, and you had never done anything remotely wrong to him! So why was he being such an asshole towards you?

———————————♡———————————

Even if you were popular, you barely had any friends. And that was what brought you to this bar, all alone in a pretty dress, dolled up and wearing heels with a bit of makeup highlighting your features. To be honest, you were really lonely, and it had been a while since you had had the time to go out due to the stress of your exams.

But now? You had all the time in the world, and you could treat yourself for once. Well, the cheap bar down the street wasn’t exactly the best place to celebrate, but at least nobody you knew could see you get drunk with a few middle aged men, probably in their 40’s trying to get in your pants by buying you drinks.

Of course, you had always been a good girl, never believing in one-night stands and being a mere cocktease for those men, but hey! At least you get free drinks out of it!

Whenever you entered the bar in your short, beautiful cocktail dress, everyone’s eyes were immediately focused on you. You felt so… validated receiving this kind of attention from men (Even if they were just drunkards trying to fuck a young college girl ‘cause she’s got nice tits).

Most of them watched from a distance, including someone you would rather not have watching you right now. A few of them approached you at the bar, subtly stealing glances at your body, which was hugged tightly by the short dress. They’d buy you a drink, laugh with you, and stare as you danced the night away. You were having so much fun, and nothing could spoil that for you right now.

Well, that was until he approached you.

While you were dancing around with your strawberry mojito in hand, you could feel two rough hands slide up your waist. It made you flinch a bit as you could feel the person’s fingers squeeze your waist before sliding further down to your hips. You could hear a low chuckle from behind you.

„And I thought that little miss A+ Student would be at home studying with her parents. You do this all the time?“ You could hear a deep baritone voice rumbling behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. You knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

Leon fucking Kennedy, your history teacher.

Out of all people it just had to be him.

„Mister Kennedy, Sir- I can explain all this, I swear.“ You spoke, voice wavering a bit. This man could ruin your reputation alright. The worst thing was, you hadn’t even slept with anyone, but knowing the size of the stick up his ass, he would probably tell everyone you fuck middle aged men for drinks and money at a bar no one knew.

Fuck, you had to think. Fast.

„Mhm, you know I could ruin that reputation of yours within days now, darling. All it takes is a single rumor to ruin your entire reputation and future career.“ He whispered into your ear. You could hear the smugness on his face right now. Oh, how much you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. But this man had power over you. He could ruin your reputation and make you fail your class, or even worse, get you expelled. Fuck, what were you going to do?

„What do you want from me?“ You asked softly, voice shaky and hesitant as you did not dare to look at him. You bit your lower lip anxiously, your teeth stained by your dark pink lipstick. But that was the least thing you had to worry about right now.

„Who said I wanted something from you, Miss?“ He replied, a low chuckle following once more. He was pissing you off. Man, this guy didn’t have a stick up his ass, it was a whole tree trunk.

You looked down at yourself, noticing the way his hands were caressing your waist. And Jesus fucking Christ, why did it feel so good? It wasn't supposed to. You repeated yourself once more, „What the fuck do you want from me?“

Your voice was shaky and you were at the verge of tears, thinking your hard-earned respect would go down the drain because of this asshole of a man. You were just having fun, dancing the night away and partying like every other college girl your age. But you had expectations to uphold.

„Just please, don’t tell anyone.. Please, sir.“ You begged your professor, voice at the verge of cracking as tears welled up in your eyes. You were desperate. Really desperate. And to be honest, Leon thought you sounded crazy hot begging him like that. How would you sound like begging for something else instead- Was he really just getting turned on by his student begging him not to tell on her?

He needs to get his mind out of the gutter. This was his student, for fuck’s sake. Plus, she was barely 18, not even allowed to drink alcohol. He should be telling on her instead of letting his hands slide across her body.

…fuck.

He was getting hard.

Just like that, he removed his hands from your body, and to you it felt so.. weird somehow. Like you wanted him to touch you more-

Stop right there. This man could be your father judging from his age.

Weeeell, he actually doesn’t even look that old. And goddamn, that shirt- it hugged his rather fit physique perfectly.

Wait, what were you thinking? There’s no way you would ever bang your professor (Even if he was very attractive and looked like he worked out a lot).

Silence filled the room after he removed his hands from your body, desperately trying to hide the obvious tent in his pants. His cheeks were tinted pink as he avoided your gaze, trying to stare at anything except you. Well, you were shamelessly checking him out.

A shame that he was your professor. One with a huge stick up his ass, too.

You have so tried to get in his pants.

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke up, breaking the long, awkward silence. „Look- Just please don’t say anything- I like coming here, and I don’t want you to ruin it for me just because you hate my fucking guts okay?“

Leon stared at you in silence, before gesturing at a table. Just then you realized.

Everybody was staring at you both. The music was suddenly really quiet. And that is when you took his hand as quickly as possible and led him to the table, sitting him down before taking your seat across the table.

„F’me, man.. never thought I’d come to see the day. You? Sitting in a bar, dancing the night away with some ugly guys in their 40’s just cause they buy you drinks? And I thought you were one of those good girls that always study so hard for every single test and exam... If I knew about all of this beforehand, I would've given you a better grade than a D-. That would’ve been if you had let me take you out on a date first, that is.“ He flirted, like it was second nature. You looked down, hands balling into fists at his statement.

„Listen, I’m not just some cheap whore- I don’t do one night stands, okay? In fact, I’ve never even had sex before and-“ you started yapping like a mad Chihuahua, before realizing what you just said.

Oh fuck.

You did not just tell him that, did you?

Leon’s eyebrows were raised in surprise before that smug smirk crept back on his lips.

„Oh? So you’re a virgin, I see.“ He chuckled to himself, causing you extreme embarrassment. To be fair, you were getting pissed. He was laughing at you just because you hadn’t had sex yet? How pathetic was that?

„Yeah, you probably can’t relate though. Have you ever seen yourself in that shirt? It screams 'Take me home with you‘! You– you probably have sex like 5 times a week!“ You continued yapping, making him laugh even more.

„Listen here - my sex life is none of your business, little girl. Why do you care so much about what I’m wearing? Were you checking me out, perhaps?“ He flirted effortlessly, not really helping with the redness of your face. You wanted to say something- a snarky remark, but you just couldn’t speak. You stuttered a bit, frantically trying to form a sentence inside your head, but nothing worked.

Leon, being the smug bastard he is, simply laughed at your inability to speak. „Fuck, you actually did? I never pegged you to be into older men, you know. So like, did your dad leave to get some milk and cigs?“

He clearly thought you had daddy issues or some shit like that.

„My dad is at home! I don’t fucking have daddy issues- why do you care so much, anyway? My family issues are none of your concern!“ you bit back at him, your eyes shooting daggers.

„...So I was right, you have some family issues.“ He replied, clicking his tongue as he shook his head at you.

„Hah, bet you even secretly have a daddy kink or something like that. Hey, I’m not kink shaming though, I like that.“ He spoke so casually, like he was talking about the weather.

You groaned, holding your head. „Your bullshit is giving me headaches. You’re so fucking nosy- and I would never call anyone that! Gosh, that would be so weird-“

Your remark didn’t faze him in the slightest, and you could soon feel a hand on your lower thigh. Your posture quickly straightened as you sucked in a breath, clearly surprised at the older man’s touch. But the thing was…

You didn’t hate it. Fuck, you’d go as far as to say you liked the way his warm hands felt on your body.

„You know you can confide in me, Sweetheart. C’mon, I won’t judge. You like being daddy’s good girl, right?“ He teased you, that same fucking smirk still on his lips. You hated that you actually got off on how he was talking to you. It didn’t help that his hands slowly crept up higher and higher and higher…

„A shame. You got a nice body, and a bright little head. And you’re putting all of it to waste. Fuck, if I was your age, I probably would’ve fucked you so hard, you wouldn’t even be able to sit, or even stand anymore-“ he remarked, as if he had no shame at all. Yeah, he probably just had too much to drink, right? He wasn’t being serious about what he said.

Then again, alcohol made you more honest. Did he really feel that way about you?

You had to try.

„If I offered you to do so, would you… take my virginity?“ You asked hesitantly, lips pursed together as you leaned over, giving him a heavenly view of your tits.

And that was apparently the only thing needed for him to finally snap.

He leaned forward, staring at you with his blue, piercing eyes as he scanned your body.

„You want me to fuck you?“ he whispered, and you could smell the bourbon on his breath. It wasn’t too unpleasant, if you were being honest.

You merely nodded when Leon scoffed and spoke in a lower voice, „You don’t know what you’re asking me to do, right? Yeah, I’m too old for you, even if you got daddy issues, I couldn’t just- you know, have sex with my student. How desperate even are you, offering yourself to a guy that could easily be your dad judging from the age?“ Leon spoke firmly, and you could see the way his cheeks went red.

„No you couldn’t, my dad is three years older than you.“ You remarked, the smug smirk on your face for a change. You were enjoying teasing him like this.

„Even so, I’m too old for you, sweetheart. And plus, you don’t mean that. You’re just a bit tipsy, and you don’t mean what you're saying. I’m sorry, darling.“ He laughed gently, his hand on your thigh squeezing lightly. You saw him bite his lip with a guilty look in his eyes, before you finally leaned in, your lips hovering over his.

„...Fuck, you’re such a Minx, you know that?“ He whispered against your lips, before closing the space between the both of you.

Damn, that actually felt kind of nice.

His free hand cupped your cheek affectionately while the other continued it’s dangerous shenanigans under the table, rubbing and squeezing the fat of your thighs.

„You really, really want me to take you home with me?“ He whispered into the kiss, messily licking into your mouth as soon as you opened it for him. You had seen enough romance movies to know that that was probably the best way to set the mood.

For a few minutes, you actually completely forgot that the both of you were actually still in the bar, having multiple men staring at the both of you.

But of course, you knew you two couldn’t do this here.

So you quickly pushed Leon away, effectively stopping him .

„Not in public. That’s weird, I don’t wanna have old men jerking off to me later.“ You started, frowning at Leon who simply laughed.

„Well, I’ll have you know that I will definitely be doing that later, you know.“ Leon shamelessly admitted, before his hand left your cheek to sit on top of yours.

„Are you really sure about this? There’s no backing out once we get out of here, y’know. I can't hold back after that.“ He whispered to you, and you could swear you saw a dangerous glint in his eyes.

„‘M really really sure, Sir, don’t worry about that, yeah?“ You flirted, a smile forming on your lips.

„Oh you naughty little-“ he rasped, before removing his hand from your thigh and taking out his wallet to slam money on the table for his drinks.

He gripped your hand tightly right after, dragging you outside of the bar really quickly, before taking you to his car. A BMW E36. He had good taste, you gave him that.

His hand was placed on your thigh for most of the ride, until you pulled into the parking lot of one of the most expensive hotels you had seen. Your jaw dropped in shock as you stared at him in genuine disbelief.

„What? First time? Oh yeah, forgot you’re a virgin.“ He teased you, before getting out of the car to open your door for you and pull you out of the seat. Just how fucking rich was Leon?

„Didn’t know you make that much money to be able to afford.. this.“ You muttered, utterly shocked as he led you inside. He quickly got the both of you checked in, and mere minutes later, you found yourself in the bathroom of the hotel room, looking into the mirror to see if your makeup was still intact. Well, luckily it was.

Well, that wasn't gonna last though.

As soon as you opened the door of the bathroom, you saw Leon sitting on the bed, in his slutty compression shirt which didn’t do a good job at hiding any of his muscles or his tits. You could swear they were bigger than yours.

„Okay, I’ll ask one more time. Do you really, really, really want this?“ Leon rasped at you, his gaze lingering over your body. You sighed softly, letting yourself fall back onto the bed as you looked at the ceiling.

„I wouldn’t be here if I was a pussy. Plus- maybe this could help me with my grade in history?“ You laughed softly, a genuine laugh. Leon's heart skipped a beat. Hearing you laugh was the most heartwarming thing he heard in a while.

He quickly turned before crawling on top of you fairly quickly, taking your hands in his. Fuck, you felt so small under him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t soaked already. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, before traveling down, trailing kisses along your jaw, down to your collarbone, until he reached your dress.

Right, that was supposed to come off.

„Take it off.“ Leon commanded, before going back to lazily kissing your neck, maybe biting down once in a while and sucking a bit too much, maybe creating a hickey or two (or 7).

Your hands reached for the zipper of your dress, and it wasn’t easy due to the fact you were literally on your back and Leon wasn’t making it better, covering the soft flesh of your neck in countless hickeys and love bites. As soon as you managed to pull the zipper down, you felt Leon’s rough hands trying to gently slip the tight dress off you, without breaking it on accident. You arched your back awkwardly as he removed the dress from your body.

Today was a great day to be wearing black lingerie.

„Funny how you say you haven’t banged anyone and you’re wearing that. Were you expecting to get laid today or what?“ Leon asked, his kisses traveling downwards until they reached your bra. His hands easily cupped your tits, before disappearing behind you, unclasping your bra with ease.

The poor article of clothing was quickly tossed away without a care in the world, before Leon’s thumbs slowly grazed over the hard peaks. He chuckled to himself, one of his hands sliding down further to explore your southern regions. He quickly followed after his hand, his face now directly infront of your pussy.

This was embarrassing, but you were rather surprised when you felt his finger poking at your underwear.

„You’re fucking soaked, baby. I could just slip my dick right in, and you’d probably be able to take it without much of a struggle.“ Leon commented, chuckling in between your legs. You merely gulped as soon as you felt his fingers hook around the edges of your panties, pulling them down and discarding them just like the rest of your clothes.

„Jesus fucking Christ, your pussy’s glistening. Are you really that desperate to get fucked by an old man like me?“ He mocked, before gripping your thighs tightly. You were about to say something when you felt him lick a stripe up your slit. You choked on a moan as you looked at him, eyes widened. He looked so relaxed, lazily licking another stripe up your cunt, making you let out noises you didn’t even know you could make. You covered your mouth rather quickly, embarrassment burning on your face as you apologized.

„Fuck, 'm so sorry-“ You apologized, noticing the way he looked at you in confusion. „The fuck are you apologizing for? Jesus, you sound so fucking divine.“ Leon stated, before getting back between your legs, but this time his tongue dipped straight into your poor, glistening pussy, his nose gently bumping against your clit. His tongue was inside you, and you could feel it. Your eyes were wet with tears and your head was thrown back, a loud, involuntary moan leaving your mouth.

Your hands were instinctively placed on his head, gripping his hair tightly as he ate you out on the expensive white sheets of this bed. Leon's hips desperately rutted against the bed, trying his best to get a bit of friction as his dick was painfully hard. The way you gripped his hair didn’t help either, or the fact that you were squeezing his head in between your thighs.

And fuck, your moans were so perfect. You sounded like a fucking porn star, moaning for him like that.

Tears were starting to spill from your eyes as you were clearly not used to any of this stuff.

But Leon was gonna teach you everything you needed to know.

That being said, it didn’t take that long for you to tighten around his tongue and cum all over his face and the expensive silk sheets of the bed.

You were panting really hard as you looked down at Leon, seeing his face covered in your juices.

Fuck, it was like a scene right out of a porno. The way the slick glistened on his lower lip and jaw-

You were too overwhelmed to realize that he came closer, before kissing you messily. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

„‘Kay- fuck I need to be inside you so bad.“ He whined, quickly unbuckling his belt and removing his pants while you tried your best at removing his shirt. You took a bit longer than you hoped, eventually giving up and tearing the shirt off him anyway.

To your surprise, Leon didn’t give a single shit and proceeded to remove his boxers.

…Oh, you were in for a wild night.

„Jesus fuck- That’s never gonna fit-“ You exclaimed, clearly more than just intimidated by his size. Leon just chuckled darkly, staring at you with that dark, malicious glint in his eyes.

„I’ll make it fit.“ He rasped, aligning his tip with your glistening entrance. Leon held onto your hips with one hand, the other trying to help you take him inside.

„Fuck, you’re slippery, can barely slide inside.“ Leon groaned softly, before finally managing to get the head of his dick inside. He bit his lip, already feeling how your walls hugged him tightly.

He gradually pushed more of himself inside, slowly, his ears focused on the noises you were making. You squirmed around a bit before he sighed and handed you one of the fancy pillows on the bed.

„Bite down on it if it hurts.“ He ordered, pulling out just a bit to slide himself deeper inside you, making your eyes roll back. He wasn’t even fully inside yet. Leon could soon feel the small wall of resistance, which he quickly surpassed with a single, hard thrust.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as you let out a loud moan. He was now fully buried inside you. Leon was panting against your collarbone while waiting for you to adjust to his size, which was easier said than done.

„O-okay- fuck… you might bleed a little after this, but don’t be scared love, that’s normal-“ Leon whispered into your neck before looking up at you. You looked so fucked out. It took everything and more for him to not just finish inside your tight little pussy right away.

He waited for a few more seconds before gently pulling out and thrusting back inside you, watching the way your mouth stood agape and how your nails dug into the pillow you were holding. It normally took Leon a while to finish, but with you? He could fucking cum on the spot with the way you looked at him.

Tears welled up in your eyes once he starts with a slow yet hard pace. Fuck, he was so big- how was anyone supposed to be able to take him like that? His tip repeatedly hit your cervix, making you bite down onto the pillow in both pain and pleasure. It hurt, but at the same time, shivers ran down your spine.

Leon was so focused on watching his dick disappear inside your hole, biting his lower lip while he thought about recording this. You’d be fine with it, right? Fuck, what was he thinking? He couldn’t just touch himself to a video of one of his students getting dicked down by him.

But goddamn, if this would’ve been more than just a one-night stand, who knows? Maybe you’d allow him to film himself cumming deep inside you, too- Why was he even thinking about that now?

„Oh fuck- you’re so nice and tight, 's like you were made for my cock-“ He panted on top of you, beads of sweat running down his forehead. You on the other hand could barely think straight due to the aggressive fucking you had to endure.

„Kiss me please, daddy-“ You whined softly as tears ran down your face, your mouth standing agape while you tried your best at not being too loud. Leon quickly leaned in, combining both of your lips in a messy and desperate kiss. He messily began licking into your mouth while you gave him access, still not stopping his thrusts inside you.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling his chest pressing against yours, like he wanted your bodies to melt into one. He was hot and sweaty, but you didn’t mind it at all since you probably were, too.

Leon’s right hand quickly slid down, gently rubbing your clit to feel your walls tighten around him even more. He was trying to make you cum.

„Fuck, you feel that? You’re getting so fucking tight- You’re gonna cum, right?“ He groaned into your mouth, before continuing to make out with you. His thrusts got a bit sloppy as soon as he could feel his own orgasm building up.

„S-shit- wrap your hands around my throat, daddy-“ You whimpered beneath him, feeling his left hand gently choke you and make you feel lightheaded. Leon pounded you just a bit harder upon hearing that nickname again.

Your back arched a bit and you choked on a moan as you finally reached your climax. Your walls tightened around Leon, triggering his own orgasm and milking him dry. Leon humped against you for a bit longer, before eventually pulling out and leaving you feeling warm, yet empty inside.

He let himself lie down next to you, hair messy and sticking to his forehead due to the sweat on his body. You quickly got under the sheets, the cold air now feeling a bit too cold for your liking.

Neither of you said anything until Leon finally decided to speak up, „You’re not gonna tell anyone about any of this. Understood?“

You weakly nodded, nuzzling your face into his neck as your arms wrapped around him. Maybe he was actually less of an asshole than you thought.

„Also, don’t you even dare think that I will change your grade just because you’re the teacher’s little whore.“ He remarked with a faint chuckle following. His arms snaked around your upper body before he could feel your lips on his collarbone, placing a hickey there. He let out a low groan at the feeling, his hands gripping your hair tightly.

As soon as you were done, you admired the purple bruise on his collarbone, which would probably be easier to hide than the ones he had placed on your neck. Fuck, what were you gonna tell your parents?

Wait.

Oh fuck.

Your parents were still waiting for you at home. And it was already past midnight.

You quickly got up from the bed, still fully naked as you ran to the wardrobe to get your phone.

19 missed calls.

Oh, you were so fucked.

You quickly called your parents back, making up some lame excuse about how one of your older friends got drunk, and you helped him by booking a hotel room and taking him there.

Leon watched you, trying his best not to laugh as you stood there, making up some story while being completely naked after he fucked the shit out of you.

The call lasted about 5 minutes, and ended with you telling your dearest mother that you had your own hotel room and would be staying there. As soon as you hung up, you could hear Leon laugh his ass off.

You walked over to the bed before lying down next to him once again, getting under the covers before playfully hitting his upper arm while you pretended to be mad.

He teased you a bit more, before you yawned and rubbed your eyes, clearly exhausted. Leon played with your hair before placing a kiss on your cheek as you drifted off to sleep.

——————————♡————————————

The following morning, you woke up with Leon lying on your chest, sleeping like a baby. You smirked, taking your phone from the nightstand you had placed it on and took a photo of him.

Now it was your turn to laugh your ass off. Your grumpy history professor was lying on your chest, sleeping like a baby after you had sex.

You heard a low groan coming from his throat, and you shot a few more pictures, before he could open his eyes to look at the camera in front of his face.

„The fuck are you doing?“ He asked groggily, seeing you snap another photo of him. Just then, he realized you were snapping pictures of him.

He quickly snatched your phone away and deleted the pictures, before groaning a bit more about how his back hurt. Just then, you actually realized the way the both of you smelled. Like sweat and sex.

Yeah, it was definitely time for a shower.

As soon as Leon got up, you dragged him into the shower, placing him in there before getting in yourself. It was easy, considering the fact that the shower was huge. Like, it was twice the size of your shower at home.

Showering took a bit longer than usual, though, maybe because of the fact that Leon had to punish you for taking pictures of him while he slept. He fingered two more orgasms out of you, effectively overstimulating you until you swore you would never take pictures of him sleeping again.

Exiting the shower, you felt fresh, but at the same time, you could barely walk straight, your legs feeling like jelly.

The two of you finally got dressed and left the hotel together. He even drove you home like a true gentleman (as an excuse for taking your ability to walk normally). You thanked him as you got out of the car, and he quickly drove away, well not without winking at you and telling you to stay safe.

——————————♡————————————

The next Monday was your last day of school. You got your reports back, and you easily passed. Even though, you were really surprised to see a B+ as your grade in history. Just then, you checked your phone. You had gotten a text from Leon. Wait, since when did you have his number?

Leon ♥︎ Be happy I saved your ass by changing your grade. You owe me now. Today, 10:30 A.M.

Leon ♥︎ So… since this is your last day, can you drop by the teacher’s office after you get out? I got something for you. Today, 10:31 A.M.

A smile tugged at your lips as you looked at your phone before typing a reply.

You Does this ‘something‘ involve having sex at the teacher’s office, Sir? Today, 10:35 A.M.

You quickly put your phone away while giggling to yourself. The bell began ringing shortly after, and you got up with all your stuff. Taking out your phone, you read his reply.

Leon ♥︎ Maybe. Today, 10:35 A.M.

You sighed and chuckled as you made your way to the teacher’s office.

He was going to be the death of you.

(Credit for the dividers goes to @cafekitsune btw!) AAAAA thank you for reading this piece of brainrot I cooked up at 3am lol. Please let me know if you liked (or hated) this little fic in the comments aaaa (I also take commissions, plspls commission me I have 0 motivation to write anything on my own)

Tags:

#leon kennedy #resident evil #smut #resident evil smut #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon smut #don't try this at home #first post #send help #how do i tag this #death island leon #resident evil death island #teacher x student

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alessiasfreckles · 2 months

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amnesia - part 9 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

a/n: uh-oh. i wonder what's going to happen next?

--------

You spent the next day and a half avoiding Ona, which was relatively easy, considering she was at training and you were not. On Sunday, though, the team had a game - their first one since you’d woken up that you’d be able to go to. Not only that, but it was Alexia’s first start since her knee surgery, so you were even more determined to go and cheer on your teammates.

When you got to the stadium, you were greeted excitedly by everyone, it being your first real reunion with the team since your accident. Your teammates all hugged you, even Ona, who you gave a small smile to but turned away from quickly. After some words of encouragement, you joined your other injured or non-playing teammates to watch the game.

It was exhilarating to be at the stadium again, and you wished more than anything that it could be you warming up on the pitch, ready to play. Still, even just being there was better than nothing. The first 45 minutes flew by, with goals from Aitana and Salma bringing the team up to 3-0 by half-time.

And then, within minutes of the second half starting, Alexia scored a goal. It was an incredible goal, flying over the head of the keeper before she even had time to register what was happening. Despite your leg and the doctor’s orders to rest as much as possible, you couldn’t help but jump up with your teammates, whooping and cheering for your captain.

The game ended 5-0, with Alexia scoring another goal before being subbed off. She was beaming as she came off the pitch, and you felt something flutter in your chest as she looked up at where you were sitting and grinned at you.

When the whole team went out after to celebrate, you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that it wasn’t just you and Alexia. Still, it felt good to be out with everyone, and the doctor had said you were allowed to have one or two drinks, as long as you were sensible about it.

You wouldn’t have needed more than two anyway - after the first cocktail you already felt decidedly tipsy, the alcohol mixing with the medication you were taking for your leg and making your tolerance much lower than it was normally. You were sipping your second drink, watching your teammates laugh and dance, when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

It was Ona. “How are you doing?” she called over the music.

You shrugged, debating how to respond. She looked really fucking pretty, the lights glowing and bouncing off of her, highlighting the contours of her skin. “I’m good.”

She nodded, looking unsure suddenly, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“You played really well today,” you said, leaning in so she could hear you. “You’re so fast!”

“Thank you,” Ona blushed. “Ale was the star of the show, though.”

You both looked over to where the blonde was dancing with Ingrid and Mapi. “Yeah. She’s so impressive.”

“She really is,” Ona nodded. You hadn’t noticed, but she was watching you watch Alexia now.

“And she’s really pretty,” you added. Okay, so maybe the second drink was hitting you already. “So pretty. You’re really pretty too, you know? You’re pretty in different ways but also the same, because you’re both so pretty.”

Ona’s eyebrows raised in surprise for a second, before she let out a laugh. “You’re really pretty too, amor.”

“I think… I think I did have a crush on Ale. At the start. Maybe I still do, but shh, don’t tell anyone,” you fake-whispered, bringing up your finger to your lips. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because you and me are dating, aren’t we? Even if things are kinda weird right now.”

“We are,” Ona said, and hesitated for a moment, before continuing. “But maybe you should tell her.”

“Tell who?”

“Tell Ale that you find her pretty, that you have a crush on her.”

You frowned, watching Alexia dance. Confusion flashed through your brain, cutting through the alcohol-induced fog. Why would Ona tell you to do that? Ona was supposed to be your girlfriend, why would she want you to tell Alexia about your feelings?

“You know,” Ona said, lips close to your ear. When had she moved that close? “Maybe Ale and I would be a good match? What do you think? You think we’re both pretty, right? Would we look good together?”

“I don’t understand,” you said, frowning. Images of Alexia and Ona together darted before your eyes. You had to admit that they would look amazing together, but jealousy burned in your stomach, and the guilt you felt about picturing them that way tasted acidic on your tongue. “What do you mean? And why should I tell her I think she’s pretty?”

“It doesn’t matter, don’t question it-” Ona started to say, before you angrily cut her off.

“Stop saying things like that! I’m not stupid, I can question things if I want to!” you took a step back, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp.

“No, I just mean-”

“You’re confusing me and I don’t understand why! Ever since I woke up you’ve been acting like I’m a child, like I can’t make decisions for myself, like I’m not smart enough to be told about things, and I fucking hate it!” your voice, filled with the frustration and anger you’d been keeping bottled up inside, cut through the sound of the music. Alexia looked over as she heard it to find you storming out, leaving Ona alone once again.

“Mierda, what did she say this time?” she muttered under her breath as she ran after you. She felt bad for Ona, she knew she’d been through a lot lately, but she had to stop pushing you and treating you like you were a child.

When she caught up to you, you were leant against the wall of the bar, the cool stone calming your temper.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Alexia asked, a worried frown on her face.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, biting back the angry thoughts you were having about Ona.

“Okay,” Alexia agreed simply, and you could have kissed her in that moment for not pushing you.

“Actually,” you pushed yourself off the wall. The fact that she wasn’t pushing you was exactly what you needed. “I don’t understand what Ona’s problem is. She keeps saying weird things and acting like I’m an idiot and babying me and I’m sick of it!”

“What things has she been saying?” the captain asked.

“I dunno, weird stuff, like asking me if I think you’re pretty - which I do, obviously, you’re fucking gorgeous,” you rambled, too caught up in your own tirade to notice Alexia’s cheeks reddening. “And, like, I told her about how I had, or have, I don’t know, a crush on you, and now she keeps making weird comments but, like, weird suggestive, when I thought she’d be jealous or annoyed or something? But it kind of feels like she’s just making fun of me for being confused about my feelings and it really sucks!”

“I’m sorry, amor,” the blonde nodded sympathetically, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat at your words.

“And I’m just sick of it! I don’t want her to treat me like this! I’m a grown-ass woman and I can make my own decisions about my own feelings and I deserve to be treated that way!” you exclaimed loudly. You finally looked over at Alexia, who was watching you intently, all attention focused on you. Your eyes trailed over her face, her eyes, her lips. “You’d treat me like an adult, wouldn’t you, Ale?”

“Of course, amor,” she said, smiling at you warmly, one hand on your waist to steady you.

“Good,” you said, taking a step forward and closing the gap between you. The alcohol gave you a boost of confidence, and in one swift movement, you took hold of her collar and pulled her closer, and kissed her.

Kissing Alexia was different to kissing Ona. Alexia’s lips weren’t as soft as Ona’s, but there was more fire behind the kiss, and as you let out a small gasp she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips, just for a second, leaving you desperate to taste her again. She tasted different to Ona, too-

Fuck. Ona. Your girlfriend. Even if things weren’t great, she was still your girlfriend.

“Shit,” you whispered as you stepped back, one hand over your mouth, as if you were trying to cover up any evidence of what had happened. You looked around to see if any of your teammates had seen, only to be faced with Ona, who was standing just outside the door, mouth ajar, staring at you and Alexia.

“Shit.”

#hannah writes fics #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle fanfic #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfic #ona batlle x alexia putellas #alexia putellas x ona batlle #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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undercoverpena · 27 days

Text

10. cranberry cocktail

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter ten of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3k chapter warnings: SMUT. 18+. jo's bad use and knowledge of DIY. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo made herself horny. see author note at the end.

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It’s difficult not to smile as you approach.

His voice, mid-singing—almost competing with the radio that lingers under his voice—had been travelling out as you walked up to the building. Louder when you pulled open the door, sliding the sunglasses from your face.

A few blinks and your eyes capture his, singing dying out, leaving the original artist blaring around in the background.

Still, you're unable to stifle the smile. Not as you walk closer or as he puts down the tool in hand; least of all when you realise he's looking only half as abashed as you would be if he caught you mid-rendition, watching him dial down the volume on the radio as the door closes behind you.

Frankie had shown you this place once before. Your voice, light, teasing, hand in his: “You’re showing me where the magic happens?”

“I’ve shown you where that happens.”

“Not that magic—or, well, I hope you’re not about to tell me there are even more videos on a different site I need to watch. I’ve been forced to rewatch things lately.”

He’d explained, with a soft smile and a twinkle in his eye, how he’d turned the garage into a workshop. The hours, the pieces he’d started with and the things he’s managed to build, find or bargain for along the way. Even lingered his thumb over the height chart for Luca, the one he told you he began when he first bought the run-down house he made a home.

It was impressive then, but you hadn’t appreciated it as much as you do stepping in today.

You'd been too busy then, watching, studying him. Spotting the way he trailed his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes widening as they tried to smile before his lips as he pointed out highlights he knew you’d have seen from certain videos you’d mentioned.

Now, it's all lit by soft, mid-morning sunlight, looking homely, loved, worn in and appreciated—everything you’d expect from him.

Even if things are out, such as plasterboard and wood leaning against odd edges, everything else has a place. Just like the scent that wanders around and flows as if there’s a constant candle burning, one which includes notes of freshly applied paint, the essence of sawdust and leather. A blended aroma that subtlety clings to his clothes—and then lingers inside your own. A thing which brings comfort, until it seeps in sadness upon the realisation that it's faded from a sweater, bedsheets or your throw after a few days of not seeing him in person.

"Hi, handsome."

He grins, a hello escaping out as his knuckle tips your chin up, your smile back presses to his mouth. Tasting his lips, how they’re tinged with coffee. Frankie planting it more intently as your hands find their way around his waist, heightening it, fingers grasping your cheek.

You swear you could kiss him forever. A thought you know you have continuously, almost every time his mouth finds yours. But you mean it.

Completely. Utterly.

Your palms sliding around, fingers brushing over dry, hard paint specks buried into the soft, beloved cotton of his tee.

“So,” you say when you pull away, teeth biting your lip—finding yourself staring at him, as though his face alone answers everything.

In some ways, you're adamant it does. In others, you know it will.

A feeling that thrums more and more intensely as weeks rack up into months, as your heart flutters in your chest when his eyes hold yours for a second longer than normal.

“What has prompted this little requested visit?”

Grinning, he traces his thumb along your jaw. “Thought you could drill some holes—for your cupboards?”

Smirking, dragging your tongue in a sweeping motion across your lip, you tap your fingers on his waist. “Drill, ay? I didn’t… exactly come dressed to be in your workshop.”

“Wait,” he says, eyes widening, mouth pulled into a line as he brushes his fingers down the fabric of your summer dress that rests along your collarbone. “This isn’t an everyday DIY outfit?”

Grinning, you nudge into him, head shaking—hand grasping a handful of his tee. “No.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, voice dropping, charm encasing each letter as his hands find a home on your hips, “I’ll make sure you don’t get messy.”

A soft laugh escapes you, feeling the way his thumb continues its gentle circling on your cheekbone.

“You on cleanup duty, then?” you reply, the words muffled against his lips. He hums in response, a sound of agreement that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Without pulling away, he gently guides you towards the bench—hands on your side as his chin rests on your shoulder.

One glance at him, and he offers you a comforting smile. Before it comes over him, that voice—the one from the videos. All lightly, but sternly instructing you. Talking you through the steps, before he tells you to pick up the black and orange drill from in front of you.

A lick of warmth slides up your spine, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you press closer to him, your body beginning to buzz from the way he’s pressed against you—his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist.

“We’re going to begin with drilling the holes for the handles.”

Rolling your lips, you rest your head against his. “Okay.”

“What you’re gonna do is lightly ease the drill in.”

“Is that so?”

Clearing his throat, you swear you hear your name, it followed quickly by a “Stop.”

“Stop what, Frankie?”

It’s a grunt. A thing buried in his throat before he takes a measured sigh. His hand rises, gripping the top of the power tool before lining the drill bit with the marked wood.

“Being a tease—now, lightly pull the trigger.”

Blanking your face, staring at him with confusion. “So, push it in and out?”

You watch it hit him—slowly. It washes over him in a few blinks, your hips wiggling against his before he groans again. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m very innocent, Morales.”

“Mierda. You’re the opposite of innocent. And no, it’s straight down. Not in and out—we’re not… we’re not fucking it.”

Giggling, you bite the inside of your cheek, adjusting your stance as you swear his groin pushes into your ass on purpose. Finding a way to mumble an okay, you shift your shoulders in preparation. Asking, finger hovering over the trigger of the drill, if you squeeze it lightly as you feel him nod.

Swallowing, you give it a test. A little click. Hearing it, before you see thin crinkles of wood coming away from the pressure.

“Like that?”

Somehow, all beyond you, you manage to keep your voice steady. It all unwilling to tremble—even though his breath is dancing over your neck. Even though his hold on your hip is tightening.

Then there’s the heat pulsating through your dress—the warmth settling into your bones, skin and muscle from his touch. Your body remembering, recalling—able to know just from his presence what he can do, what he has done, how he can unravel you and make you become a mess all from his fingers, mouth and—

“Bit more pressure this time, baby.”

“You can’t say that.”

Snorting, the air dances over your skin as you swear you feel him smirk. “Oh, Rainy. I can.”

You swear his voice drops an octave.

Sweeping the words over you, making your body tense, muscles twisting in on themselves as you try to focus on the drill in your hand. Stare down at the piece of wood he’s set up for you until it’s a blur. Nodding. Finger over the button, knowing you just need to squeeze—

Perfect, he whispers.

And fuck it makes your thighs press together. Makes something rumble inside of you at the same time as the drill fires to life.

The noise is all loud, alarming—deafening. A hole deepening in the wood.

“That's it, just like that. Perfecto, hermosa.”

Even with how loud it is, you can only hear him.

How he layers so much emphasis on the P, the letter is still skating over your skin by the time the rest that follows it has left his tongue.

You can only swallow. Remaining aware, and yet focused in, on how his hand slides down, fingers teasing the end of your dress—a quickly thrown-on thing, an easy option that meant you could arrive here sooner.

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing it against your neck as his hand slides under your dress, palm flat to your thigh, dragging it up, and up.

Some part of you, all distant, feels him take the drill, hears a click, before it’s out of sight, out of fucking mind.

Then it’s just thick fingers you focus on, how they slide, rub, torture over your underwear—feeling like minutes, hours, days before he manoeuvres. Before he’s forcing elastic to cut into your skin, before you feel him trace along the places you need him desperately.

“Frankie…”

He drags his nose against the side of your face, feeling the exhale flutter against your jaw before he makes you gasp before it grows into a shameless whine.

“This not what you wanted?”

Swallowing, your eyelids quiver. Some part of you, a present part of you that isn’t lost in the way he’s stroking up and down your slick folds, occasionally catching your clit, that he isn’t going to let you come like this.

Even if he's told you he likes the way you sound, has confessed that he likes watching you unravel; his favourite pastime, his favourite movie and soundtrack.

“Need to hear you, Rainy?”

“Want you,” you pant, breathless.

He fans hot breath on your skin. “Want me to fuck you here, baby? On my bench. Hmm?”

You’re fluttering, desperately to squeeze him—fingers or cock, you’re not in a frame of mind to be fussy.

Mind changing, singing, practically bellowing: please, please, fucking, please. Body thrumming, vibrating, legs desperate to shake—if not for the fact they’re keeping you upright. Your fingers find a place on his bench, digging, barely making a mark against the rest on his workbench. But it’s stable, rigid.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, softer, dripping it into your ear like honey—all encased in air that seeps inside of you and makes you forced to chase his lips.

It’s against them you say please. Kissing a y, an e and a s against his mouth, licking past his teeth, hips rocking into his fingers as he circles and circles and circles—

Then, nothing.

Retraction, emptiness. A desperate whine emerges, rising from the back of your throat until it fuses with the air.

An explanation almost demanded, but his belt buckle undoing silences you. His clothed cock presses against you, feeling how hard he is, the size of him making you clench your thighs as cool air kisses the back of your legs when he grabs a fist full of your dress.

“Gonna get rid of these.”

It’s deft, his finger—hooking in the band of your panties as he drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, letting it fall the rest of the way as the fabric finds a home around your ankles. For a moment they just remain there, not entirely confident you can step out of them until he holds you steady, talks you through it:

One foot, then the other. That's it, baby.

Because your body is on auto-pilot, doing things for you, for him. Like parting your thighs as his hand rests on your back as he softly urges you down. Your forearms find the bench, hingeing at the waist, lying your chest flat on his bench, sawdust filling your nose and stitching itself into the upper part of your dress as you turn your head, flakes sticking to your cheek.

And for a moment, an expanse of time, you forget how to breathe, how to be, where you are as you stare at him.

This man, this person who one day you didn’t know and the next you did—is now yours, all yours. Mine, he’d said in bedsheets after the conversation in the kitchen. Like that you’re mine, Rainy. A man you trust, like, lov—

Frankie, who is all handsome, broad and fucking kind, is now looking at you as if you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted to devour in his life. Do it, you silently plead, beg, metaphorically getting on your knees as he washes you in almond-brown eyes.

He’s a sight you couldn’t have ever made up, least of all this one. Fingers, thick—one wrapped in a bandaid—pulling down on the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes, casting half of him in a shadow that makes you almost moan. There’s just the tip of his nose, just his mouth on show, lips spread and curled into a smirk as he lines his cock at your entrance.

You sure? He asks, fingers brushing over your hip, keeping the fabric back, as you smile, nod, and whisper for him to make you feel good before he eases the head of his cock in. It's then your mouth parts around a silent cry of his name, pussy welcoming each inch of him, opening, as you let him slide all he wants to give.

“Know you can take me,” he hushes, “I’m good at measurements, calculations—“

“Fuck.”

“Fuck, you like that.”

Whining his name, he smirks. Because both the feel of him and the act is something you couldn’t have ever concocted. Fuck, a year ago you wouldn’t believe the person you are either. Not this confident being almost laid down on his workbench, feeling this good, this attractive, all bold—asking for this, for what you want. No flicker of shyness or nervousness.

Then there’s him. A sight your mind is struggling to process. Frankie with his teeth glistening with spit as he stares down at you, as he sweeps that burning gaze over you and grunts at the feel of you. One hand, large, slightly calloused, finding meaning on your waist, the other holding your dress up your spine, pressing down, light, but firm—don’t move, baby, stay still.

As if you ever would.

The stretch is welcomed, a dull ache answered, all buried to the hilt. Remaining there, still.

“Move, please—fuck, Frankie, I beg of you.”

He chuckles. A low laugh.

But he does, pulling out before driving back in, making your vision swim, blur. It all overwhelming. Both the sensation and everything else—scents, sounds and touch. His hips slowly moving, his belt buckle clanging and it’s easier to find yourself draped over the bench, cheeks on the wood, inhaling it—the scent that lives in his clothes, in his fingers and aura.

Frankie, just Frankie. Your Frankie—

“So g—fuck—good for me.”

Your fingers dig, grasp—his cock kissing that spot inside of you that forces your toes to curl in your shoes, your mouth managing half of his name before it fades to a moan. All breathy, doused in whimpers and yes’s falling in a verse that leads to a chorus.

“Feel so—oh, good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Perfect. Feel perfect.”

He moans—low, tinged in a grunt, a hiss, your name etched somewhere in the sound—as he pulls almost all the way out, drawn out, an emptiness beginning to register before he thrusts in. Somehow deeper, somehow filling you more perfectly as you squeeze your grip on the bench.

And you’re close, all light and boneless—but heavy and alive, so alive you feel like fire courses in your veins and you could become more flame than a person.

“Come for me, baby. Right on my bench—fuck, you feel good, so tight—need y’to come. Right here.”

And it crashes against you, all of it. Suddenly unable to smell a thing, hear a thing—you just feel. Feel the sensation of just him and the tip of him hitting that spot which makes you arch as pleasure, all blinding and molten lava rushes through your blood, and flows into your muscles.

All numb and yet tingly.

It takes a moment, but your senses come back one by one, panting, breathless—muscles tired and depleted—as you feel his hips stuttering, the strained noises from behind forcing your eyes open.

He’s a picture, a work of art—a statue that should be carved by someone with talent. Sun streaks in and basks him in a golden hue, illuminating that heart patch on his jaw—the way his tongue is pinned between pearly white teeth, and the vein in his neck throbs angrily as he reaches his own climax.

You clench, aware of it, ogling and admiring pushing him over the edge as he curses, tensing, rigid, pace lost as he spills inside of you, happily taking it all, wishing to wring him dry and ensure he’s empty. Greedy, desperate and fucking needy.

Before his body finds refuge on top of yours, heart hammering against your spine—hat falling, tumbling off onto the floor as the two of you catch your breaths. His hand finds your cheek, stroking his thumb against it.

“Never… I’ve never done that before.”

Smiling, you gaze at him as best as you can. “I like how you drill,” you say, playfully, feeling his laugh rumble through him before he kisses your hairline.

It’s light—perfect.

Feeling the laugh bounce from bone to bone inside of you before he turns and eases you up, chest to chest, murmuring against your lips about a shower, about cleaning you up. And you keep smiling, even more so when he checks your chin and cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing over and over.

“You promised me I wouldn’t get messy.”

Thumb pausing on your cheek, he smirks. “I can clean you up, baby?”

Smirking, you shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “How are you planning on doing that?”

He tilts his head, before slowly grasping the bench, descending to his knees. Your mouth unable to stop itself from falling open, all wide, surprised as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“Might want to hold onto something, baby,” he says, writing it against your inner thigh. “Might take me a minute to make sure you’re all cleaned up.”

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while we still have some more chapters of these two, I've been experimenting with a few things and while it won't have any bearing on the main series, there will be some smutty-one-shots that can be read as and when, and if so people wish. they won't require reading of the series, but rather allow anyone to enjoy two people who are becoming comfortable with one another, exploring a few different things. i'm not sure on when the first will be out, but it won't replace normal uploads for them. but rather just be small little things i'd love to include but would feel shoe-horned into my plan. also if there's anything you'd love a bit more of, whether it's a bit more on rainy/frankie or their relationship, my inbox is always open. thank you for letting these pair into your heart.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #francisco morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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forelsho · 3 months

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toji fushiguro x female reader, smut nsfw 16- dni !

tw— cunnilingus, spoilers for his backstory, both of u guys are sexdrunk, he drinks your squirt straight from your hole, ass to mouth, reverse cowgirl, talks about period but no period sex, switch toji? full nelson, he's so whipped bro, no words exchanged, filthy, not proofread, use this to masturbate idk !

note— my 'first' smut guys! be nice pls :(

big man toji and his stupidly attractive scar. you'd be lying if you said the first thing that caught your eye wasn't his enormous biceps or the deep scar on his lips.

you know how that scar was born, you know it's origin, so it does make you feel guilty when you just can't stop itching for your lips to slide over the dented skin of your man, or the feel of it gliding across your clit as you desperately hump and grind on his face.

but he, does he feel guilty about it? does he think he should be ashamed of such a bruise being etched into his skin as a terrible memory of his past?

no. why would he? he embraces it. he takes pride in the way men and women alike swoon over the line across his lips, how it highlights the shine in his teeth, he lives for it. oh, and he also loves the way you get so desperate on top of his face, riding his tongue like the muscle was a dildo; after completing a bounty with a hefty amount, he thought it would be a good idea to pierce his tongue. and oh, how a good idea it was. he just needs to stick out his tongue and you're already on him, sucking on the smooth muscle, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel the metal glide over your teeth. he needs to momentarily pull you away before you start squirting and cumming in your panties from a makeout sesh with him alone.

sometimes, it doesn't even take much effort to work you up, he just yawns, adam's apple bobbing and mouth agape. his tongue sticking out and by the time he can close his mouth, you're already suffocating his nose with you clitoris and all he can taste is you. you, you, you. it doesn't take long for the both of you to get drunk on each other, his hands coming up to your thighs to stabilize you, to prison you, to leave you glued on his mouth until you both fall asleep. he eats cunt like a mad man too, and it he doesn't even have to eat you out for you to be squirting all over him— riding his face in reverse cowgirl, your hole pulses when she feels the smoothness of his skin, how the bridge of his nose is sharp and can send you over the edge. he's not doing so well either, you clit directly on top of his nostrils, his sense of smell over clouded by the scent of your pussy despite his heavenly restriction. fuck, he thinks, how much of a goddess do you have to be to even break the boundaries of someone's cursed restriction?

he can feel it, it's coming. his eyes shoot open and he slides you directly into his mouth, tongue lapping at your cunt as you yelp and moan, hands holding onto his pecs. you feel it too, your hips buck and twitch against him, you look at his throbbing cock. standing tall and large, what catches your eye the most is the purple hue from the base to the tip and if you squint, you can see his swelling balls. poor guy, you've left him blue balled. the thought of that, the thought of your usually dominant boyfriend begging for your walls around his member, being so desperate for your warmth, makes you throw your head back, and squirt all over his face. luckily for him, most of it goes directly into his mouth, he has no problem drinking it up like it was those $1000 cocktails rich people drink. his hair is soaked in your gush, eyes closed to prevent any of the liquid to get into his eye sockets too. he relishes in the pleasure he gives you. you could see his dick twitch and pulsate, cute.

in a similar situation, you sit on his face again, this time, with your foot playing with his member. he's holding a vibrator to your pussy, of course, he would never let a lady like you do such a thing like pleasure yourself. not when he's around. his tongue pistons in and out of your asshole, reminiscing about your protest from earlier. about 'but 'ji, it's so disgusting!' and 'it's dirty down there so don't!' but don't you realize? it's the same thing as your pussy, don't you bleed from your pussy too? dumbass. your ass is just as tasty as your cunt anyway, he'll gladly eat your ass out like it's a full course, five star meal. he'll gladly be your chair with his dick as a footstool, of course he would, he has no qualms in pleasuring you. he won't stop eating your ass out like a mad man, his pink muscle already deep inside of your cavern as the thumb of his left hand caresses your rim. where was this piece of meat when he was starving?

during oral, you're always the one in control, he, every time, goes into a submissive headspace in moments like these. wherein you're using him as a chair, or when you're sucking his soul out through his cock. either way, he can't get a break with you. both your pussy and throat hold his cock and tongue in a vice grip, like rubber. so, when his cock goes into your pussy, both if you get drunk on each other, turning into nothing more than horny bunnies fucking until the next February 29th.

you loooove getting fucked in full nelson, where the back of your knees are supported with his arms, ankles parallel to your ears and big cock snugly fit in your small pussy, one wrong move and toji could break your cervix and womb fuck you. your tits bounce and shake with every thrust he lets up in you, both his hand on the back of your throat holding you in place, making you watch as his dick brutally pistons in and out inside of you, proof of this is when the bulge of your tummy appears and reappears with each thrust he makes. you love your boyfriend, but heavens, toji junior sure does come into a close. you know never do this to someone like you, but everytime he just throws you on the bed with cum sopping from you pussy and leaves the room, you can't help but giggle. even knowing he's just going to fetch a rag from the bathroom to clean you up, it's nice being treated like a sex doll.

despite having gone for three rounds straight already, your hand still reaches down between your legs to rub your clit, you could hear toji mutt through the walls 'where is this goddam' thing..' and that only fuels your fingers more. going ham on your little pussy, you can't wait for your boyfriend to come in and fuck your cunt again. no way you'll be stopping your little sex escapade soon.

#🌱 | parcel!#🌱 | jjk!#🌱 | toji fushiguro!#🌱 | smut!#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you

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greatstormcat · 2 months

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Be Careful What You Wish For

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x chubbyf!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, darkfic, kidnap, violence, threat, non-con, p in v, forced orgasm, forced exhibitionism, name calling

AN: dead dove read the tags, if you proceed below the cut you consent to reading what is there and will suffer in silence if you do.

AN: Tagging @shotmrmiller for helping feed the brainworms with this one and @391780 for inspiring it!

Your job wasn’t bad, you had to admit it, especially on weekends like this where they paid for you to stay in a nice hotel while you attended a conference. You were visiting a city you liked, staying in a nice part of town, and you got to spend the evening by yourself while everyone else went partying and clubbing. You’d looked up the hotel you were staying in online and saw it had a very nice cocktail bar, so you’d made a plan to glam yourself up and have a few drinks on your free time.

A nagging voice in your head said you were being silly, as you freshened your makeup and put on a cute wrap around dress and heels, but you ignored it. Why shouldn’t you enjoy yourself? What was wrong with feeling pretty just for yourself and no one else? You didn’t need to have a date to feel good about how you looked. What’s the worst that could happen?

Doing a pose before the mirror you look at how the dress clings to your generous curves and flatters your luxurious figure, and the little heels shape your calves nicely. You look hot, helped by the matched underwear set boosting your cleavage where the dress highlights it. Grabbing your room key and phone you giggle and head down to the cocktail bar.

You have a small table booked and the host gets you seated and leaves you a menu. It’s not overly busy, the dark space decorated in mahogany and brass, with elegant lights hanging from the high ceiling. You sit at you table, a small polished marble surface with a glowing brass lamp, and read the menu deciding what to try first. Once you order you open your phone and scroll through tumblr, your greatest vice, and feel a thrill when you see an update to your favourite darkfic series. You devour every word, blood heating as you read the delicious writing in your phone, the kidnapper carrying you away inside your head and using you for his own pleasure.

Your drink arrives, a beautiful glass containing a heady potion of alcohol and candied fruit peel. It tingles on your tongue and warms your throat as you sip it, the mixture of sweet and sharp deliciousness. As you read more you shift in your seat, feeling arousal pooling and simmering low in your pelvis, making your clit pulse. Your mind wanders to the little black vibrator stashed away in your room upstairs, and you smile to yourself for having the forethought to put it onto charge before coming downstairs.

A movement catches your eye and you glance up from your phone briefly, meeting the dark, liquid chocolate coloured eyes of the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in the flesh. You dart your eyes away, your warm face heating further when you realise he is sitting opposite you and staring openly at you. Was he there when you sat down? Has he sat down since you did? You kick yourself for not being more observant. Your frowning and thinking in interrupted as another cocktail is set down beside your half drunk glass by the hostess, a bright smile on her face as she sees your confusion.

“I didn’t order this,” you say with open honesty.

“No, it’s from the gentleman,” she chirps happily before bustling away, obviously enjoying this part of her job. The man opposite is watching you with a barely concealed smile, a small scar pulling at the skin beneath his left eye and giving him a rakish charm.

“Um, was this you?” you ask the gorgeous stranger with a shy smile. His answering smile is dazzling, a sharp canined grin that lights up his face, and he takes the opportunity to get up and move over to the spare seat at your table.

“Yeah, it’s not original but it worked,” he answers in a deep, velvety voice, “I wanted to come and talk to you but didn’t want to interrupt your reading. You were very engrossed in whatever it is.”

He settles in, tucking his long legs under the small table, and you notice how broad his chest and shoulders are, straining the material of his shirt. The two of you settle into easy conversation, making small talk about the bar, the conference you’re attending. It all feels so light and casual, and the second cocktail he has ordered goes down quickly and you allow him to order you another soon after despite the gentle spinning sensation taking over your head.

“So, would you like to come and have some dinner with me?” he asks. “I was going to eat alone tonight but you’re much better company.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you laugh, but already feel like accepting his offer.

“Sorry, I’m Gaz,” he says, holding out his hand. You take it and let him pull your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

“Nice to meet you Gaz, I’d like to have dinner with you,” you smile. You pick up your phone and room card, fumbling with them slightly and wishing you had a bag with you. The alcohol in your system makes your head spin as he leads you to the lobby and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you against his side.

“I’ve got an Uber waiting for us,” he says softly, his deep voice vibrating through his chest as he guides you outside. True to his word a black car waits around the corner, and he opens the backdoor to let you in before walking around and slipping in the other side. As soon as the car begins to move, he is on you, lips hot and insistent against yours and it’s easy to return the enthusiasm.

You tense up, though, when his hands begin to touch you, trailing down your sides and squeezing at your hips possessively.

“Wait, slow down,” you mumble against his lips, and a chuckle comes from the driver.

“Bit late for that,” a gravelly voice drawls, and icy droplets of fear drip down your spine. You shove at Gaz’s shoulders trying to push him back but it’s like trying to shove at a wardrobe, he won’t budge and his mouth kisses down across your neck and collarbone.

“Stop!” you snap, panic bubbling up inside you and he finally huffs out a sigh and leans back slightly. He raises an eyebrow and gives you an unimpressed look. With a terrifying casualness he reaches into the rear pocket of the driver's seat and extracts a gun from its depths.

“You are way out of your depth here, love,” he smiles, gently waving the weapon before your eyes. The remaining alcohol in your system clears as adrenaline surges through your veins, and it takes every bit of self control not to wet yourself right there.

“C’mon, what’s the bra situation?” the driver asks without looking back, his concentration firmly on the road and clearly being observant of how he is driving to avoid raising suspicion. You notice with a jolt that the driver’s head and face are covered with a balaclava. Gaz tugs at the fastening of your dress, the cold metal of the gun in his hand making you shudder as it brushes over your skin.

“Ah fuck,” he breaths, slowly peeling the fabric aside and uncovering your bra.

“Well, what is it?”

“It’s black lace,” Gaz answers reverentially.

“Told you, you owe me twenty quid,” the driver says smugly. “Said she’s a classy bird, didn’t I? Bet you the knickers match.”

“You’re not taking any more of my money,” Gaz chuckles, seemingly entranced by the lacy cups of your bra, tracing his fingers lightly over the lace. Your nipples harden and press up against the thin fabric, and he circles one of them with his thumb. You can’t help but notice the way he swallows, as though salivating. “Can’t wait to suck on these, baby,” he murmurs softly to you. “D’ya know some people can come just from having their nipples sucked?”

You nod your head, biting your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at him as he pinches at the nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb. He is interrupted by the car stopping and the driver turning around in his seat.

“Take her inside, I’ll be back shortly,” the driver says, watching you in the rear view mirror as Gaz shuffles you over the seat and pulls you outside, taking your phone and room key from you and tossing them to the other man. The unmissable press of the gun against your side keeps you compliant and quiet as he marches you into a nondescript house on an average street. It’s disturbing how close you still are to your nice hotel, maybe only a few miles from safety and help.

Your abductor marches you through the door and down a short flight of steps into a basement, flicking on a lamp in the corner as you stumble in the darkness. The dim light illuminates a double bed, a tattered armchair, and a few other pieces of worn furniture. The connotations of this setup make bile scald the back of your throat.

“Right, you stay here,” Gaz tells you, as though you have a choice. “The door’s gonna be locked, so don’t bother trying it.” With a casual glance up and down your half dressed, trembling form he heads back up the stairs to the ground floor, the sound of the door shutting and the lock turning sounding like the end of the world.

You spend a fruitless few minutes fumbling around and trying to find an exit, a weapon, anything that might help you escape. The only other door opens into a tiny bathroom that has been partitioned off the basement, making it clear they intend to keep you here for a long period. As hopelessness threatens to overwhelm you the door upstairs clicks open and two sets of boots clomp down the stairs.

The bigger guy, wearing a balaclava still and this time with a hideous sharp tooth skull mask, carries your suitcase from the hotel and your shoulder bag. Your stomach roils as you realise he went back and checked you out, so no one will notice you’re missing right away. He sets it down and saunters over to the armchair facing the bed, sitting down and spreading his thick thighs wide.

You flinch as Gaz touches your neck, you hadn’t noticed him nearing as you had focused on the other guy.

“That’s Ghost by the way,” Gaz informs you with the same friendly tone. “He’s gonna help us enjoy ourselves.”

“Enjoy? I don’t think that’s what you’ve got planned for me,” you croak out, eyes bouncing back and forth between the pair. Ghost chuckles darkly.

“Maybe not, love,” he replies, “but we will anyways.”

You freeze as Gaz tugs at the tie to your dress again, finishing undoing it now and letting it fall open.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost murmurs, his dark eyes raking over your curves and lingerie, shifting in his chair as he adjust his blue jeans to accommodate a growing bulge in his crotch. “Classy bitch.”

Gaz hums with approval, tugging the dress off your shoulders before walking you backwards until the musty bed knocks against the back of your legs.

“Shoes, off,” he tells you, voice low and dark, “then on the bed. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

You consider refusing for a moment, but fear gets the better of your bravado and you kick your shoes off and climb onto the bed, the mattress creaking softly as you move into the middle and lay back. Gaz follows, grasping your knees and forcing them wide so he can kneel betweeen your legs. For several moments he contents himself with running his palms up and down your exposed legs, kneading the plushness of your thighs with increasing enthusiasm. His finger trail closer to your lace underwear, grazing over the fabric covering your pussy, making you twitch each time.

“Are you going to get on with it?” Ghost grumbles, absently rubbing a hand over his bulging crotch.

“There’s no rush,” Gaz grins at the other man, but carries on and hooks his fingers into the elastic either side of your hips and pulls roughly, ripping the underwear down your thighs. The thin fabric snaps and he tosses it away. Before you can snap your legs closed, he lunges forward, pushing his hand against your exposed cunt and pressing his fingers against you seam.

“Shit, she’s wet,” he groans, fingers probing between your pussy lips and a terrified sound catches in your throat. “Ugh, so fuckin’ wet,” he repeats as his thick fingers slide back and forth, exploring and invading you, humiliation and fear surging in your chest and forcing tears from your eyes. He finds what he is looking for and grunts triumphantly when he feels your hips jerk, pressing his fingers against your clit again and begin to circle it slowly.

“Is that all for us, love?” you hear the masked man ask, and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to block them both out. Fat tears roll down the side of your face while Gaz slowly rubs the pad of his finger back and forth over your sensitive nub. The dull ache from earlier returns, the nub swelling eagerly at the stimulation against your will.

“Nah, I reckon she was reading porn back at the bar the way she was wriggling in her seat,” Gaz says. “Got herself nice and worked up for us, saved us some effort.” He abandons your clit, and moves a rough, slicked finger against your entrance and presses slowly. You try to pull your hips away, but a harsh slap lands against your thigh making you yelp.

“Hold still,” he warns you, and you whimper but stay still as he forces his digit inside.

“Please don’t,” you whisper shakily, feeling his calloused finger slipping further inside, then retreating slightly before moving further in. He ignores your protest and slowly fingers you, adding a second shortly after, slowly pumping them in and out of your cunt. He leans down over you, kissing across your chest and over the lacy cups of your bra, licking and sucking at your nipples through the delicate fabric. His breath comes faster, getting worked up as he assaults you, and his hips move in an echo of his hands movements.

“Gotta taste these,” he groans, and pulls sharply on one cup, ripping the material open before sucking your nipple into his hot mouth. He moans, flicking the bud with his tongue, causing your muscles to tighten around his fingers every time. Your body fights against you, slick dribbling down his hand from the way he plays you, disgust and arousal warring inside you.

Another sob bubbles up your throat and Gaz looks up at you with bright eyes, pulling his mouth from your tit with a loud, wet pop before grabbing your chin with his free hand.

He turns your head to face the masked behemoth, whose heavy cock is free of his jeans and cupped in his palm now, stroking his length slowly as he watches you struggle against Gaz pathetically. The light catches on shining metal, and you note the line of piercings along the underside of his shaft.

“Ghost likes it when you cry,” Gaz whispers in your ear. “Really gets him fired up. You keep that noise going he’ll lose control, so be careful.” An unstoppable sob rips from your throat, and as predicted, Ghost’s cock twitches in response to the sound.

“Stop talking and give me something to watch, Gaz,” he grumbles. “Otherwise I’m takin’ over and I don’t think she’ll survive that.”

“Yessir,” Gaz chuckles, the deep sound rumbling in his chest, and he leans back slightly to unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers. This means he takes his hand from between your legs and you try to clamp them closed as he kicks away his trousers, and peels off his shirt. He is toned, muscular and would be painfully beautiful, if it wasn’t for him being pure fucking evil.

“Open those legs love, or you’ll get another slap,” Ghost warns you, and it’s only a split second before a ringing slap lands against your cheek from the man on the bed, making your face burn and more tears fall. “Fuck… do that again, it’s makes her whole body jiggle,” Ghost growls, and Gaz does as he is told, slapping you again making your head snap towards the other man. You see him pumping his pierced cock, the tip ruddy and leaking with excitement.

The break in your concentration gives Gaz the opportunity to force his weight between your thighs, his length slotting against your pussy and dragging it back and forth, coating it in your slickness. You try to kick him away, to push him back and fight him, but he overpowers you all too easily and the struggle only spurs him on.

“I grabbed this from her room,” Ghost says and pulls something from his pocket, throwing it onto the bed. Your heart sinks when you see your vibrator on the sheet beside you. It’s quickly picked up and turned on, then pressed against your swollen nub. The vibration against your clit has your back arching off the mattress, and Gaz uses this moment to force his cock inside you, making you yell out at the sudden, unwelcome intrusion.

“How does she feel?” Ghost demands, a tightness to his voice betraying his desperate arousal as he watches Gaz bury his dick inside you.

“Nggghh… she’s a big, soft girl… with a tight cunt…” he grunts. “Fuckin… perfect.” He grinds his hips against you, making sure he gets every inch inside you, wrapped in your tight heat, filling you to the point of pain but the vibrator twists the sensation sickeningly. You feel your walls clench tight around him, pain and fear mixing with aching pleasure.

He moves his hips back, dragging his fat cock against the walls of your pussy, and nerves spark as he does so because of the stimulation to your bundle of nerves. The bastard fucks you mercilessly, taking great care to keep your clit buzzing, he rams his cock into you again and again. The stretch around him is intense, too many sensations and emotions battling for your attention, and you feel the unmistakable righting in your stomach and pelvis.

“No, nonono…” you whine, giving away the fact you are going to come, legs kicking at the bed beneath you uselessly. Your body shakes and bounces, both men watching every time your tits shift back and forth like salivating beasts.

“That’s it, love,” you hear Ghost groan over Gaz’s panting breaths. “Give us a show and come like the whore you are.” His voice shakes and you make the mistake of looking over at him through your tears, seeing him fucking his fist as Gaz violates you, his head tipped back and chest heaving as he pleasures himself.

Your unwanted orgasm tears through you, tensed muscles spasming wildly and you cannot stop the yell that bursts from your lips. Gaz’s movements become more unhinged, hips slamming painfully against yours as he chases his own high now he has felt you squeezing around him. He grabs your hips, fingers digging viciously into your rolls and making you whimper.

With a few more vicious thrusts he barks a rough shout of triumph and unloads himself into you, thick cum filling your abused cunt.

“Ah, good girl,” Gaz coos breathlessly, leaning down and kissing your forehead as he withdraws his cock.

“Yeah, she’s gonna keep us entertained,” Ghost agrees, wiping his cum covered hand on his jeans before getting up and tucking his softening cock away with a hiss. He heads up the stairs, leaving you with Gaz in the basement.

Gaz shuffles beside you on the bed, you feel exhausted and drained, body boneless and heavy. Your mind stays thankfully blank, the combination of terror, alcohol and orgasm creating a static buzz behind your eyes that drowns out coherent thought. After a moment he pulls a thick duvet up over you both, and he rolls you onto your side facing him.

“Just get some rest now, you did well for a first time,” he mumbles, shifting lower down and wrapping his arms around the soft expanse of your middle. Your eyes are already closing, but you squeal quietly when you feel his hot mouth against your nipple once more. Forcing your eyes open you look down blearily and see him suckling on your nipple, his eyes closed as he holds you tightly. He hums contentedly, sucking your puckered flesh into his mouth lazily as though preparing to doze off like this, and you feel a fresh wave of horror settle over your skin like an icy blanket.

You’re trapped with them.

Part 2

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