#but unfortunately it's already hard enough to get people past step fucking one of 'low empathy and/or cluster b does not mean evil abuser'

[prolibytherium]

I don't care about ""romance"" or """hurt and comfort""" where issues are (temporarily or otherwise) resolved via effusive declarations of love and devotion and praise I want to read more fucked up people fumbling their way through their best approximations of intimacy and human vulnerability like "What are you doing. Oh ew wtf are you crying? Are you good? Don't get snot on my shirt" etc but no one understand smy visions

#I have to do everything MYSELF #Genuinely I love writing about interpersonal dynamics between low empathy people with weird attachment styles it is probably my #key historical trend in OC dynamics and etc #Both with platonic friendship and/or romance it's very endearing to me. Love people who sincerely care about each #other and do it in ways that suck so fucking bad #The ways having low empathy and/or disordered personality can affect relationships when you genuinely care about someone but are #woefully unequipped to deal w/ some emotions and etc can be very interesting and something I wish I saw in Media more often #but unfortunately it's already hard enough to get people past step fucking one of 'low empathy and/or cluster b does not mean evil abuser' #Am not expressing myself very well rn I have a really bad headache and yet I hit the post button

[friskebits]

CASEY JR IS SO SILLY SO HAVE A RANT ON HIM! So, we all know he was raised in an apocalypse, and there aren't any real life examples of how living like that would effect someone, but! I've been taking a intro to psych for a few months now and I might be wrong on a few things here so feel free to add onto this if u want :3 Moving on, you ever heard of Maslow's Hierarchy? No? Well here it is (and if you have just bear with me for a moment)

The way this hierarchy works is that in order to get to self-actualization, which is extremely hard to do in a normal world already, you need to have all the rows of this pyramid fulfilled, and Casey Jr was failed from step one. Obviously he was loved and cared for, but love and familial relationships come after physical needs. You can't build a pyramid starting from the third layer. Obviously the Turtles and Casey Sr and April tried their hardest but it's really hard to take care of a baby, especially with limited recourses and its safe to assume that every now and then he went hungry or was cold and didn't get enough rest, especially throughout his childhood. Obviously he grew up used to his unfortunate life so I'd like to think he sorta lived his own version version of this hierarchy, an unfulfilled one. Now with all of that out of the way, it's so wholeheartedly heartbreaking that this kid will never reach self-actualization which is literally basically just actually enjoying life, being creative, having fun in general pretty consistently. This fucking kid was failed from step one, and will probably never reach his full potential!

He was raised centered around one thing, stop the kraang. Having your entire life centered around one goal is really unhealthy, especially since he knows absolutely nothing outside of that goal. His entire conscious and unconscious mind is occupied with that goal. Even when he's safe and consciously is perfectly aware of his safety, his unconscious mind doesn't know that. Being in fight-or-flight mode for long periods of time isn't sustainable, it'll literally kill you, and he's been in fighting mode his entire life, sudden changes in setting and environment are gonna trigger that fight or flight response HARD. His first few weeks or months or hell even years with the present turtles is gonna be filled with him getting SO pissed at himself for still treating his life like he's gonna die at every turn, not to mention again going back to the pyramid, all of a sudden he's thrown into a place where he can fix himself and reach his full potential, but it's extremely possible that his constant need for a survival situation is a cardinal trait and he might not want to! It's very easy to get used to being scared, and it's very easy to assume he got really used to it.

Typically speaking after an extreme high (for Casey Jr, going to the past and saving the world) you get stuck in an extreme low. The relief we can tell he feels at the end of the movie is gonna be gone and fast. Not to mention the stress of being in an entirely new environment with people he knows that don't know him, being in a place where everyone else hasn't been failed in such a fundamental way the way he was, set up for failure from step one? This kid is NOT going to be okay for a VERY long time- and that's stacked on top of YEARS of ptsd and watching everyone he loves die, his entire being is out of place in the present and he breaks my heart because when you're in a place where you're so flawed, completely by yourself and stuck with people who will never understand your life, you're completely and utterly fucked.

(tags for friembs :3 @clanofjones @paytato435)

#this might not be the most coherent #I'll talk more about this another time I promise #I'm just so- AUGH #He just ruins me #this kid #this fucking kid bro #was fucked from day one #and I don't think he'll ever unconsciously recover #rottmnt #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt casey #save rottmnt #rise casey jr #rise casey

[dottiesficrecs]

a selection of wangxian femslash

in honor of august 21st being fanfic appreciation day, have some f/f wangxian fics!

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Close The Door Next Time (Or At Least Invite Me) by anxiousTypist | E | 6.5k | CW wangxian-typical dubcon

A plumbing mishap leads to Wei Ying sharing a room with Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan comes home to see Wei Ying making herself very comfortable indeed. — Or: Wei Ying fucks her plush bunny toy on Lan Zhan’s bed.

well-loved and taking root by etcetcetc | E | 3k

“But you totally want to knock me up with your eggs if I’m into it,” Wei Wuxian supplies, delighted, already feeling a little shivery with the idea. Lan Zhan fixes her with a stern look. She steps closer, close enough that she can speak into Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Do I?” she asks. She puts a hand low on Wei Wuxian’s stomach, hot even through her clothes. “Is that what you think, Wei Ying? That I want to fuck you long and hard, fill you up so that you can never forget who you belong to?” “Um.” Wei Wuxian swallows, swaying into Lan Zhan’s solid warmth. “That sounds nice,” she says, a little weakly.

the flower path grows thorns (then you reach out to save me) by sleepingyoongi | E | 3.1k

"Do you want me to help?" Lan Zhan asks. Her voice is low and even, a forced effort to hide the desire in her words. Normally, she would never be this bold, this shameless - that's Wei Ying's area of expertise - but something about the early morning, before dawn has even broken yet, makes her brave. "H-help?" Wei Ying stutters, cheeks colouring. "It seems that having an orgasm would help you sleep. I can help you with that." (or: fem!wangxian where wei ying wakes up horny and lan zhan helps out.)

everything is yours series by tapiokay | E | 8.7k total | CW omegaverse

Wei Ying has not fucked her in two weeks. Lan Zhan "forgets" to take her heat suppressants.

sudden, wild and delicate (your fingers | my tongue) by Anonymous | E | 10.1k

After discovering people with vaginas can have multiple and consecutive orgasms, Wei Ying decides to take things into her own hands—quite literally—and put the scientific method to the test to see how many times she can make herself come. Unfortunately, no matter what she does or how much stimulation she gets she can’t ever get past the one. Until she finds herself thinking of her best friend Lan Zhan.

To Dress Her in Your Colors by Eudoxia (@eudoxiav) | M | 4.3k | CW omegaverse

Wei Wuxian's first heat after coming back to life is terrible. Lucky for her, Lan Wangji kindly offers to let her stay at Cloud Recesses for the next one. And if Wei Wuxian steals a robe or two, what's a little robe... borrowing between zhiji? — For the prompt: "Wangxian post canon a/b/o (cql ending based) where wwx keeps stealing lwj's robes for her nest coming back to cloud recesses. they are not together yet but lwj of course keeps leaving them in jingshi for wwx to take without being suspicious. get together when wwx finds out that it has been deliberate"

the day you promised you could lie forever. by lotuslike | E | 7.9k | CW omegaverse

"Wei Ying," she rasps out, pupils blown wide when Wei Ying forces her head up to look at her. Her head feels floaty. She's beginning to feel hot all over, too, sweat sticking behind her knees, under the swell of her breasts, only to be cooled where her skin touches Lan Zhan's, and absently she thinks she should be worried that she may somehow be having a heat stroke. She watches Lan Zhan's nostrils flair, swallow hard, and that brings another gush down her legs. Deliriously, she's sure she's already soaked through her robes and is starting to stain Lan Zhan's, which doesn't help much. "Your heat." ---- Wei Ying unexpectedly gets her first heat in Mo Xuanyu's body, and unintentionally start's Lan Zhan's rut. Shamelessness ensues.

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make sure to leave the authors some nice comments if you can!!

#fic rec #wangxian #wlw wangxian #mdzs fic rec #fem wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian fic rec

[elysianslove]

secrets that you keep; iwaizumi hajime 

synopsis; in which his best friend is secretly a camgirl. part 1, part 2 

pairings; iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

genre; smut

trigger warnings; i highly recommend reading the first two parts before this. they’re only drabbles that introduce everything! anyways, this is absolute filth. don’t read this if any of the stuff mentioned could trigger you, please! masturbation, camgirl stuff, one mention of the word ‘daddy,’ self choking, degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, a lot of choking, accidental breathplay, not proofread unfortunately 

she knows. 

does she? 

it’s an ongoing inner battle he’s been having for weeks now, ever since he’d been directed to that trending video of yours. he sees you in his dreams, hears you loud and clear, moaning and crying for him, and worst of all, he feels you, so perfectly, against his, around him, and it’s overwhelming in the worst way possible. even maintaining eye contact is tiresome at this point. 

but he does wonder whether you know or not, more often than he should— were you deliberately calling out for him, in hopes that he’d find this video somehow? or had you said it because you’d assumed this is your safe place, that there’s no way he’d be able to find these videos? had it been a slip up? or, more accurately, multiple slip ups? what were the chances anyways, that it had been an accident, or unintentional, or intentional and he had been losing sleep over it, or that he wasn’t the hajime you were crying out for? 

his heard hurt. awfully. there’s already the constant worry of regulating his breathing around you and cleansing his thoughts of anything he’d seen of you the moment you meet, but this added dilemma is in no way helping. every day that you text him for a coffee date, or a night out after a rather stressful week, or a night in at your apartment, and he agrees, his mind diverts immediately to where it shouldn’t as soon as he lays eyes on you. and the worst part of it all is how aware he is of how wrong this is. he knows it’s wrong to choose the revealing shirt over the other when you ask him for his opinion, just because he wants that effortless glance at your cleavage. it’s also so wrong of him to give a higher rating to that obscenely short dress than that other, knee length one because of the way your thighs squeeze when you sit. it’s definitely wrong of him to offer clasping your anklet, the one he’d gotten for you, the one that had been the dead giveaway to your secret online persona, just because your legs feel so soft against the rough pads of his fingers, when he resists the urge to trail upwards, upwards, upwards—

it’s fucking ridiculous. 

he can’t believe just how deep of a rabbit hole finding one of your videos is, how it’s impossible to climb out and away, and even worse, how he keeps falling deeper. the one time he decides to jerk off to porn. it’s really ridiculous. 

about a week ago, three weeks after finding that video of yours someone had uploaded— which had been taken down because of copyright, and hajime personally thinks that’s fair, considering there’s a reason you pay people to watch your videos and look through your photos, otherwise you would’ve taken the liberty to post everything for free yourself— hajime gives in, and subscribes to you. it’s with a randomized account name, something he tried his very best to make as anonymous as possible, so that it would in no way lead back to him. he doesn’t check in on your account as often, also having taken the time to turn off notifications and not have anything sent to his email, and it’s mostly out of shame. he already feels dirty enough having seen this much of you, even more that he’s fantasized about you. he’s not about to make it worse for himself.

every once in a while, though, especially days where he’s sure he’s completely free of responsibilities, he logs on, and finds your page. it just so happens that tonight, you’re hosting a live stream. swallowing his pride and shame, literally so, he shifts on his bed, sitting up straighter, and clicks to join. 

he’d been a little late apparently, because you’re already bare, sitting on a chair. your legs are lifted up, knees bent and hooked over the chair’s arms, the camera angled to show everything, from your cute eyes to the flesh of your ass. there’s a vibrator in your hand, buzzing lightly as it hovers by your clit, dipping between your folds, sliding back up again to rub lazily at your clit. beneath you, on the chair, is a small damp spot, leaking from your cunt. hajime stops himself before his jaw falls slack at the sight of you, and instead, he clears his throat, gritting his teeth and watching carefully. 

you’re not so talkative during your videos, just exclamations of pleasure and (the most beautiful of) noises, so he hadn’t expected you to be during your lives. to his surprise, you are, and it’s filthy. 

whimpering lightly, you press the vibrator harsher on your clit, your other hand traveling up to squeeze at your breast. “m’so needy,” you admit with a soft pout, adding, “want you to tell me what to do, mmh.”

he’s assuming the ‘you’ is the audience, whoever’s willing to speak up, and it’s then that he notices the chat option. his eyes flicker curiously to it, hands twitching where they sit fisted at his lap as he sees the chat explode with orders and commands and suggestions for you. 

one writes, stuff urself full, and hajime gapes. 

another commands, wanna see u cry tn, and hajime privately agrees. 

someone else writes, gonna squirt princess? 

hajime’s hands twitch again, and he frowns, digging his nails into his palms. you’re ignoring all the suggestions, and it’s obvious because you’re reading through them, mouthing some of them, giggling at some, curiously gasping, ‘oh,’ at others, eyebrow quirking. the vibrator trails down to your hole again, and you experimentally dip it inside slightly, shivering visibly as the vibrations rush through you, and the moment he hears you moan so loud, he thinks, fuck it, and his hands reach for his keyboard. 

choke yourself. 

fuck, fuck, fuck, he did not just do that. 

his heart is racing embarrassingly fast beneath his ribcage, loud and pathetically deafening in his ears as he watches your eyes read through the rest of the messages, and you’ve stopped mouthing them, your eyes are widening— which one are you at now? are you just going to ignore him? why wouldn’t you? of course you—

“you’d like that, huh?” you teasingly slur, a lazy, cheeky grin painting your lips, your teeth biting down on your lower lip and your hand— your hand— 

it’s trailing upwards, upwards, upwards, until it finds its way around your throat, resting lightly, and just as he sees your fingers squeeze at the sides of your neck slightly, carefully, you pout at the camera, looking straight at him, and asking, “like this, daddy?” 

a low fuck wheezes past his lungs, and his hand quickly presses down at the bulge in his sweatpants, squeezing and rubbing at his clothed dick as he watches you, entranced. people watching you with him have taken to thanking him for the idea, and to praising you, calling you a good girl, cursing, rapidly typing out something along the lines of you’re so hot i wanna fuck you so bad, and god, hajime hates that he relates to something as stupid as that. 

your hips roll and your head falls back, hand not once leaving your throat. if anything, your grip tightens. you click on the vibrator, and the buzzing becomes louder, your moans with it, as if you were competing. you cry and gasp and sob, writhing in your own hold, your thighs tensing and your hole clenching around nothing as you harshly rub the vibrator against your clit. your cunt gushes and drips as you bring yourself closer to your orgasm, as you cry out a string of, “m’gonna cum, so close, so close!” and a mixture of lewd curses, until finally, you cum. you’re sent over the edge, legs swinging on the chair, high pitched squeals falling from your lips— which hajime can’t decide are real or not, or whether he wants them to be or not. you thrash and cry, tears, as promised to some other watcher, dripping down your cheeks. 

the last straw however, is your comedown from your high, sobs hiccuping and muscles twitching, eyes half closed and body limp as you mewl out, “hajime, hajime, hajime,” like you’re not even aware you’re doing it. like it’s subconscious. 

hajime swears again, a deep, low, “fuck,” and looks down to find a damp spot on his lap. he really came from barely any friction, all because of you. this really is as ridiculous as it gets. 

the next time he sees you, there are the faintest of bruises on your neck. it’s not so obvious that just anyone would notice, but ever since becoming hyperaware of everything that is you and everything that you do, it’s hard not to have them be the first thing he sees. to ensure that the atmosphere between the two of you remains easy, he flicks at your neck and tuts with a smirk, asking you jokingly if you were in your hoe phase. 

“so vulgar, hajime,” you sarcastically retort, teasing him. “you like calling me mean things?” and he has to avert eye contact because all his walls crumble so quick. 

it’s just the two of you tonight, in his apartment, all your other mutual friends having cancelled at one point or another. it’s not an unusual occurrence; more often than not, the two of you are alone. however, it’s been a while since you’d been alone, privately. a while meaning ever since hajime had discovered your side hustle of a sort. he hadn’t been purposely avoiding this— no, maybe he has, but to be fair, he’s still yet to recover from the initial shock. 

it also doesn’t help that since today had meant to be a relaxing night in, you’re dressed casual, but in the hottest fucking way possible. he hopes he hadn’t been blushing as hard as he thinks, and feels, he was, when you’d first stepped into his home. on your hips is a short, black skirt, flowing out to your upper thighs, where just above your knees start a pair of dark thigh highs, squeezing at your thighs and accentuating your legs as you strut around his apartment, feet bare of any shoes or slippers. he can’t decide whether it’s cute or just plain hot. somehow, with you, it’s both. your shirt is off the shoulder, a dark, navy blue bardot, and beneath it, peeking out to rest at your collarbones, is a black bralette. he can barely just see the intricate lace designs, but it disappears and dips beneath your shirt before he can see more of it. 

you’re spread out on the couch, laying along it on your stomach, a pillow tucked in your arms and beneath your head, your clothed legs bent and swinging up in the air. he sits right by you, thigh right by your head, his body as tense as ever. it’s impossible not to be you, not with you in such close proximity to him when only a few days ago he’d watched you make yourself cum, and had heard you whimper out his name after. who can blame him, really?

with your eyes trained on the screen, he hadn’t been expecting you to speak up. 

“iwa, what type of porn do you watch?” 

he nearly chokes, eyes widening as he spares you a glance. your legs continue to swing innocently, your eyes unmoving, your voice unwavering. the suddenness of the question certainly threw him off, but it’s your nonchalance that really shocks him. but, considering everything, it really shouldn’t have. 

“uh, what?” he offers weakly, wincing slightly at the barely there crack in his voice. 

you sigh, shifting to sit up. you plant yourself on your knees, spreading them apart slightly to get comfortable, and shrugging at him. “i’m just curious,” you say. “or,” your eyes squint cautiously, your head cocking to the side slightly, “do you not watch porn?” 

challengingly, his arms lift up to cross at his chest, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes momentarily glance at the way his biceps bulge. it makes his confidence spike slightly, nervousness ebbing away. “what type of porn do you watch?” 

you gasp dramatically, joking, “take a girl out to dinner first, my god.” he laughs, relaxing lightly at the banter, before his eyes fall back to you. you inch forward curiously, cautiously, still on your knees. now closer to him, you ask again, “seriously, i’m really curious! confirm my suspicions for me.” 

“oh?” he quirks an eyebrow. “so you think you know?” 

at this, you offer him a knowing smile, eyes slightly half lidded. you’re somehow even closer now, leaning towards him with your hands resting on the small space between you and him in the couch, helping you in lifting yourself up slightly on your knees as you say in a low voice, “baby, i think everyone knows.” 

at the sight of you by his side, he feels himself shiver, and an idea invades his mind before he can even process it. “oh, do you now?” he’s not sure where this boldness is emerging from, especially with how cautious and shameful he’d been and felt for weeks now, but he accepts it either way, because the way you’re staring at him like that, he never wants to let it go. and although he wants to drag out this intense eye contact even longer, in order to do what he wants to do, he has to break it, reaching for his phone instead. unable to contain your curiosity, you peak over, watching with confusion as he types out a link. 

the blood drains from your face when you recognize your page on his browser, and he’s logged on— he’s subscribed. 

“what type of porn do i like to watch?” he wonders rhetorically. the phone is pushed aside, and he sits up straighter so that even on your knees, he looms over you. his eyes are skimming over you, along your body, up to your neck, to your lips, to your shocked, wide eyes. and just as his hand trails up to your throat, his palm resting at the base and one finger tapping lightly, he says, “the type where my favorite girl cries out my name when she cums for the world to see.” 

the hand around your throat—

“you,” you breathe out, and finally, finally, when your brain makes sense of everything, your body relaxes, sags against him, leaning more into him until his hand’s properly wrapped around your throat. 

with your mind hazing over, you reach over, and kiss him. 

he meets you halfway, as if having expected it, lips pressing harshly against his. his hand tightens as he pulls you closer, lifting you up slightly and bringing you closer to him as his mouth parts, breathing you in, and kissing you deeper, lewder. you shiver and gasp, hands grasping at his wrist and forearm, not to push him away but rather to urge him closer, as you kiss him back just as eagerly. it seems like hours, with his hand around your neck, tight and a daunting reassurance, and your lips wet and hot against his, but eventually, his hand slides down, the other mirroring it, finding their way to your waist, squeezing and bunching at the skirt as he, with complete and utter and shocking ease, lifts you up off the couch. 

you gasp as he stands up with you, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he pulls you to him. as he blindly walks the two of you to his bedroom, he breathlessly asks in between your kisses, “is this— you sure this is okay?” 

with a sharp tug at his hair, you jokingly spit out, “iwa shut up.” 

he tosses you onto the bed, allowing you a minute to strip yourself of your shirt while he slips out of his own, before quickly falling above you, caging you in with his arms as he kisses you again. “not iwa,” he quietly asks of you. 

for a moment you’re confused, before everything clicks again— your slip ups— and your legs lift up, wrapping around his waist and pulling his hips closer to yours just as you mewl out, “hajime, please.” 

god, he is way easier than he thought he was. 

his entire body shudders above you, one hand lowering to push at your skirt to grind his hips down against yours until his clothed crotch meets your bare cunt and— holy fuck, holy fuck. 

“fuck, you slut.” 

you gasp at both his words and the feel of his bulge pressing down against your clit, his lips meeting your neck instead. “you do like calling me mean things,” you say, and he scoffs, his hand traveling upwards to squeeze at your breasts instead. 

“you like me calling you mean things,” he notes, and you let out a muffled moan as he pinches at your nipples through the bralette, lips biting and sucking at your neck. 

“i do,” you pant, arching up into him. “i do, i do.” his hands are fumbling at your chest, and god, they’re so large, so big and warm and harsh, it’s fogging up your brain. 

“yeah, yeah, fucking whore,” he growls, pushing himself slightly on his knees, hands tugging at the bralette. his fingers dip past, gripping the fabric tightly, and as he says, “can’t fucking— take this shit— off,” he tears through it, knuckles whitening as he pulls it away from your body, or what’s left of it. the frills of the ruined bra fall off the edge of his bed, and he watches your wide eyes and gaping mouth follow it, so he grabs at your jaw, twisting your gaze away from it and grunting a low, “shut up.” 

you pull away from the kiss, breathing heavily as you say, “that was so fucking hot, hajime,” before kissing him again. he parts his mouth as you lead him to you again, tongue easily meeting yours. 

it’s a messy kiss as he slips himself out of his sweatpants, taking his boxers with it and discarding them somewhere in his room. his cock slaps against his stomach, a single string of precum messily staining his tan abs. your eyes are quick to gaze down, lips painted a dazzling grin as his hand finds his cock, squeezing at the head and smearing his precum along. 

“knew you were fucking big,” you gasp, eyes trained on him as he strokes himself above you, and he is. he’s so big, thick and heavy, and veiny and your mouth waters at how that’s going to feel when inside of you, stretching you out so good, so much better than any of the toys you had at home. “i thought,” a squeal hiccups out of you as both of his hands grab at your hips from beneath your skirt, one sticky and warmer than the other, “about you all the time.” 

your confession draws his attention, and when he’s pulled you close enough, two of his fingers trail to your cunt, quirking an, “oh?” just as he dips his fingers inside. the lack of resistance he’s met with is surprising, and he chokes out, “did you stretch yourself out before coming here? fuck yourself on some fake cock?” 

tightlipped, you moan, brows furrowed and back arched into him. god, his fingers were not enough. “yes, yes,” you gasp, head falling back. despite not needing to, he still fingers you, his thick digits fucking into you slowly, driving you insane by the second. “yes, i— pretended t’was you,” you whine loudly. at your words, he curls his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist and pressing his palm directly on your clit. 

“do you always?” he lowly asks, dipping closer to you as he fucks his fingers deeper. his fingers were inside of you, the cunt he’d spent over a month marveling at through a screen, the pretty pussy his dick had drooled over for hours. you’re real, as real as ever beneath him falling apart, making a mess of your black skirt, drenching it with your arousal. 

you moan out a hum, nodding dumbly as his fingers vibrate with the intensity of speed inside of you, your toes curling in your thigh highs and face twisting to press into his mattress. “always,” you cry out, like a promise. “always think of you— hajime!”

it’s an unexpected orgasm, hitting you so fast and quick that it’s outright dizzying. it has you lifting your hips up into his fingers and palm, grinding and trembling, your legs falling and spreading open, shaking wildly by your side and above you as he fucks you through the orgasm. 

“hajime, hajime, hajime,” you chant, words trailing off into tiny sobs and shuddering breaths as your hips slowly fall back onto the bed, body still trembling with aftershocks. 

you’re fucked out beyond words already that you genuinely don’t feel a thing until he’s pressing inside of you, the fat head of his cock stretching you out. he’s really no match for your toys, and if seeing him hadn’t been enough confirmation, the feel of him pressing inside of you definitely is. he doesn’t ease himself in slowly, urgently grabbing the back of your thighs with either hand, keeping your legs spread for him as he bottoms out. 

“fuck, fuck, knew you’d feel so good,” he grunts, brows furrowed harshly as he digs his fingers deeper against the flesh of your thighs, forcing your legs closer to your chest, and somehow pushing himself even deeper within you. you whine and mewl, toes curling and uncurling and legs trembling. “knew it the moment i saw your pretty pussy creamin’ around that thick cock.” 

at the reminder that he’s watched and witnessed you, multiple times, that he’s subscribed to you willingly and curiously, you clench down around him. you feel him twitch inside of you, groaning loudly as he falls closer to you, your legs falling to his waist. 

“you like knowing i was watching you?” he sneers, his hand reaching up and gripping at your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing a pout on your lips. your eyes nearly fucking cross as he rams into you, his fingers digging into your jaw. “you like that i fucked my fist every night to you? to your pretty cunt and your pretty noises and your pretty face— yes, good girl, that one.” 

your eyes do cross this time, spurred on by his words, your tongue peaking out through the small gap he allows with how harsh he’s gripping your face. he’s pushing out little mewls and cries from you, but otherwise, you quite honestly feel braindead. 

“fuck, you’re a gorgeous little slut,” he gasps. “all mine to fuck and use.”

you’re quick to nod rapidly, whining and moaning for him as you grip at his biceps. you’re choking on your breath as you struggle to keep up with him while he fucks you into the mattress, so fucking hard and rough that you’re sure there’ll be an indentation of you once you leave. you can feel your cunt gushing, and you can hear it too, squelching loudly with every thrust of his hips, every time his cock fucks into you. your skirt feels sticky and gross, and so does the rest of you, but you’ve never, never, felt this euphoric, this blissed out. 

your stomach tightens impossibly, the tension gradually increasing as your walls tightly squeeze and clench at his cock. slowly and surely, the pressure within you increases, your hands flying to hajime’s arm, the arm whose hand grips your face, which quickly moves to your throat at your simple gasping warning that you were close. 

“gonna cum, gonna cum, hajime, fuck!” 

he tightens his grip, pressing harsher on the sides of your neck as your eyes shut tightly, your head falling back once more. 

“yeah, come on, show me how pretty you look cumming on a real cock,” he whispers by your ear, using the hand that’s around your throat to lift up your head, before roughly pushing it back down, squeezing tighter. “you like it this rough?— shit, shit, you’re tightening.” 

you scream, voice cracking and broken as he slams into you again, his hips grinding against yours momentarily, pelvis hitting your clit— and you’re gone, thrashing in his hold, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob and heave, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him, hips shaking as your orgasm rocks through you. it’s not a few seconds later that he’s spilling inside of you, accidentally pressing his palm down against your throat as he cums, blocking your airway momentarily. 

“hngh,” he gasps deeply, cock twitching inside of you as he cums, hips barely grinding. you’re gasping, a little painfully, struggling to take in any air as he blinks dazedly, before he finally takes notice. “shit, shit, i’m sorry.” 

his hand flies away from your throat, and you inhale sharply, coughing lightly as air fills your lungs all too suddenly. the strength of this man, holy fuck. 

“i’m so sorry; are you okay?” 

chest still heaving, you fall onto the bed, body relaxing as you try and regulate your breathing. “s’okay, i’m okay,” you reassure him, hands reaching up to pat at his cheeks and comb through his messy, sweaty hair. 

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and it’s so endearing that you nearly forget he’s still inside of you. but you feel the shift of his cock, feel his cum slowly start to ooze out of your cunt, and he winces from the oversensitivity, shifting away to instead pull out of you. his soft cock falls from your cunt, a steady flow of his cum following. hajime has to physically resist from reaching out to fuck it back into you. 

“i’m sorry i wasn’t careful ‘nough with the—“ he makes a gesture with his hands around his neck, “—the choking.” 

you laugh lightly, tiredly, hands slowly caressing at his sweaty biceps. “stop apologizing,” you reassure him again, shrugging with a small smile as you add, “just be more careful next time.” 

his breath gets caught in his chest, and he only softly exhales when he falls on the bed, to your side, carefully repeating, “next time.” 

from beside him, you lift yourself up on your side on your elbow, palm cradling your head, trying your best not to wince in pain. “hajime?” 

he spares you a glance as he mumbles, “hm?” opting to stare at the ceiling and contemplate whether what had just happened was real life or not. 

“do you wanna do a video with me?” 

he all but chokes. 

end note; please this took me like 4+ hours. please please please don’t flop, and more importantly, i really hope i don’t disappoint. i know this has been a long awaited piece, so i’m praying and hoping you guys love it. 

love you all, mwah <3 

#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut

[whoree321]

Hey, I believe your requests are open, so, could you please write smth were reader and Tech are friends with benefits?

Also, I’m in the same dilemma as you, cause everyone already forgot tbb and I’m still obsessed??? Like, were is everybody excitement about the show, it was gone so fast…

Anyway, thank ya <3

hello friend! this is a delicious request and i am more than happy to oblige! i’m not sure if you wanted like pure angst or like sexy successful fwb but above all else i am a dirty dirty slut for happy endings so i went light angst, heavy fluff, mild smut to get a little of everything lmaooooo. this also got a little out of control and i’m not sorry.

and literally i am suffering so much in this ever increasing drought of bad batch excitement. like i feel like the person at a party when everyone else is tired and wants to leave who’s still just way too hyped and is like “NO WAIT GUYS LETS HAVE MORE SHOTS AND PLAY TRUTH OR DARE COME ON ITLL BE FUN”. i am in absolute agony. but anyways!

a mutually beneficial arrangement (tech x gn!reader)

it was purely sex. just two friends helping each other relieve some stress occasionally. just two friends who happened to have sex with each other. until it wasn’t.

warnings: fwb, mild smut, reader is gender/genital neutral but they are penetrated by tech (amab)

word count: no idea but it’s pretty long

***

In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have shocked you that this was how things played out.

It’s not like you’d ever been friends with benefits with someone before. It’s not like you didn’t know how easily you could develop feelings for people. It’s not like you didn’t know you were maybe just a little too interested in Tech non-platonically before any of this even started.

No, you knew all of those things going into it. You made the conscious decision to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy.

When Tech had first suggested a friends with benefits situation, it seemed like a much better idea than it actually was. You had been assigned to Clone Force 99 for a few weeks at that point and had already developed fast friendships with all of them (Crosshair even sometimes acknowledged your presence with neutrality and that definitely felt like at least an acquaintanceship). You were closest with Tech, and one tipsy night at 79’s found the two of you making out in a hallway near the bathroom. You could still remember the way his mouth tasted like whiskey as he pressed you up against the wall

He paused his assault on your lips to look at you, breath fanning lightly across your face. You whined at the loss of contact, not noticing in your haze the intensity in his eyes as he studied you, as though if he took in enough of you he would have the answer to an imposssible question. He migrated lower, planting kisses and sucking lightly on your neck until he made his way to your ear.

“Have you ever heard of people being platonic sexual partners?”, he asked low in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath and the deeper tone to his voice before you answered.

“You mean like friends with benefits?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Tech clarified as he moved to once again nibble on the sweet spots of your neck. Had you had a little more sense, you would have warned him not to leave any noticeable marks, lest you suffer the teasing of the rest of the boys.

“I’ve heard of it, I’ve never done it before though. Why?”

“Well, given our current circumstance,” his response was punctuated by his ministrations on your pressure points, “it may be mutually beneficial for us to enter into that type of arrangement.”

You stopped him for a moment, and lifted his face so that you could make eye contact. Tech stood up a little straighter, hands running up and down your sides lightly as he gazed down at you.

“You think that we should be friends with benefits?”

Tech nodded, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

“I believe it would be an advantageous relationship. We could have relations while still maintaining our successful platonicity, thus eliminating the need to alter the dynamic of the squad with the complications of some trivial romance. It would also be physically beneficial. Sexual intercourse has been shown to successfully alleviate stress, as well as…”

He kept going, explaining the health benefits of sex, but it was hard to pay attention to his rambling while you tried to clear your head of the alcohol and the intoxication of his touch and figure out where you stood on his proposition. In that moment, everything he said made total sense. Granted, that part about “trivial romance” stung a little, but you could still fuck him without ruining the squad or your friendship with him, and Maker did you want to fuck him…

Uncharacteristically cutting off his rant, you responded. “I accept your offer. I would love to be friends with benefits with you.”

Tech grinned, a lust forming in his eyes at the new promise of the benefits the night was leading to.

“Splendid”

From that (mind-blowing) night, sex became a very regular thing. A mission went poorly? Frustrated sex. A mission went well? Celebratory sex. The Batch got leave time? Vacation sex. The Batch hadn’t gotten leave time in too long? Cabin fever sex. It really had started out pretty platonically, but after the first few times you could feel yourself falling head over heels for him. You knew you should stop it, Tech would never hold it against you or be upset if you changed your mind. You told yourself again and again that you would just break it off with him, but then his hands and his lips and his body would be on you, and the hungry way he looked at you would knock the air, and any ideas of making him stop, out of you.

In your defense, it wasn’t like you were the one who had suggested it. Tech had to know the likelihood that your “platonic sexual relationship” would only stay platonic for so long. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t done a little more analysis of the situation. If he had taken into account all of the factors (the rate of failure in friends with benefits situations, each of your levels of emotionality and past relationships, the effects of living and working in close quarters, etc), you can’t imagine he would have thought it was a smart idea. If Tech had crunched the numbers like he normally would, it wouldn’t have produced favorable results. So for him to want to do it anyway, or to not even analyze it beforehand, must mean he had some sort of feelings for you, right?

This was one of the various problem in your current situation. Tech would always do things that were just on the line between “friends” and “more than friends”. He would go out of his way to do little things for you, he would share info and jokes and side comments with you that he never tried to share with brothers, he would blush when you complimented any of his work, he would stand just a little too close to you or let his touch linger just a little too long. He would suggest a sexual relationship that was highly statistically improbable to be successful.

And while Tech offered nothing but mixed signals, you took it a step further and let those mixed signals fester in your brain until you had warped them into one very clear signal: he liked you as more than a friend. You were so sure of it too. Why would he do all of those things if he didn’t like you like that? It’s not even like he treated you like some one night stand when he fucked you. He cared about making you feel good (usually it seemed like he cared more about you getting off than him), he would clean you up after and you always stayed the night together, cuddled and whispering late into the night about nothing and everything.

There was nothing friendly about your intimate nights together, come to think of it. Friends that just fucked would never treat each other so tenderly or lovingly. It’s not that completely unbelievable to think you would accidentally blurt out that you love him. Tech should have expected that.

But it was out there, unfortunately. You had committed the cardinal sin of being friends with benefits and you couldn’t take it back.

Tech’s brutal pace never faltered as he pumped in and out of you, your moans growing louder and louder as you began to approach your peak. He gazed down at you, locking eyes, and the emotion you could feel behind them was overwhelming. You could tell that he was close, with all the experience you had with him you knew his body better than your own, and he brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he huffed out, brow furrowing as the rhythmic slamming of his hips against you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

At his words, you reached your climax, and as you came undone words of ecstasy slipped from your lips between wails of pleasure.

“Kriff Tech… ah…. Tech..fuck…I love you”

You didn’t even realize it at first, too caught up in the moment, but Tech did. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was finishing inside you before either of you could fully process what you had just said.

As you both came down from your high, the gravity of your admission settled between you. Tech pulled out and flopped down next to you wordlessly, and for a few minutes you both just stared at the ceiling in torturous silence. And then he got up and walked to the refresher, not even looking at you once, and you felt like that was all the confirmation you needed that you woefully misinterpreted your entire relationship with him.

You lept out of his bunk, threw your clothes on, and left as silently as possible, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. At least you could spare yourself the embarrassment of your words in that moment, and both of you could just forget it and move on.

Of course, you knew that pretending it didn’t happen would be impossible. You told him you loved him, and he said nothing. For several minutes. And then hid in the fresher. That was a clear rejection, and while it devastated you, you were still hoping that the two of you could just move on and be friends like you were before the benefits were added.

Apparently to Tech, you had offended him beyond repair. He never spoke to you (unless it was specifically mission oriented), he rarely looked at you or acknowledged your presence, and he positioned himself as far from you as possible at every opportunity. It had been two weeks since your slip up, and he hadn’t even made eye contact with you once.

It was agony. You missed him. You didn’t even really know what it was like to be on this squad without keeping him company while he made repairs or asking him questions about the next place you were going just to hear him talk. You missed making snide jokes with him. You missed admiring the way his goggles magnified his gorgeous caramel eyes.

The other boys noticed the shift very quickly. They had suspected the two of you had some sort of arrangement, and they knew how close you were, so to see it change so abruptly was concerning. Hunter had tried talking to you about it a few times, but you just reassured him that everything was fine and it was nothing he needed to worry about. Wrecker and Crosshair tried to pick up the slack, and started filling in the holes in your routine that Tech used to occupy. Crosshair would sit next to you in the mornings and during briefings, sometimes trying to make little comments in your ear like Tech would. On missions, Wrecker would always aim to pair up with you, and afterwards would try to do something fun like find a sweet treat or rent a good movie.

You appreciated so much what they did for you. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing could take your mind off the wall of ice Tech had built between you. You loved the other boys, but trying to share happy moments with them when all you could think about was how much better it would be with him was becoming unbearable. You didn’t want to leave them, but you couldn’t stay with Tech being so close to you and yet lightyears away.

As you filled out your transfer paperwork, you chuckled wryly to yourself. Even without the “trivial romance”, the squad was still disrupted. In a bittersweet way, it felt good for Tech to be wrong.

***

Tech had really done his best to analyze the evidence and make an informed decision based on his findings. He had been crunching his numbers with you since the day you joined the Batch, after all. Back then, it was the probability of your attraction to each of them. Tech was fascinated with you, and right off the bat he wanted to know his odds- just out of curiosity of course (for the record, they were pretty highly in his favor).

He knew there were pros and cons to the possibility of a relationship with you. First of all, it was technically against regulation for any clone to be involved in a romantic relationship. Second of all, it was likely that such a relationship would have the potential to cause countless rifts and points of weakness among his squad (regardless of the relationship’s success). Then there was also the very possible chance that the relationship wouldn’t work out anyway, leaving both of you hurt and irreparably damaging your friendship. As much as Tech may have wanted you, the costs unfortunately outweighed the benefits.

But then he kissed you at 79’s. And you kissed him back. And there he was, kissing you at 79’s, memorizing the sweetness of your lips on his. And he knew he should stop. He had studied the data and it’s conclusions were not very good, and if he had any sense at all he would stop. But he pulled away and looked at you, took in the flush on your cheeks and the dazed look accompanying your dilated pupils and the swell of your bruised lips. And he couldn’t bring himself to part ways with you. So he offered the closest thing to a relationship he could think of: friends with benefits.

A friends with benefits arrangement would be a more than adequate solution, Tech had decided. He could be physical with you in the proper moments, and then outside of those moments everything would be just as it was before. The squad’s dynamic and mission proficiency would remain consistent, and technically no regulations were being broken since they only specified romantic relationships. Of course, it wasn’t truly what he wanted, but in this arrangement he would get to enjoy you so much more than he currently was.

Unfortunately, he had made a critical oversight. In the dim haze of the club hallway, Tech had only considered how casual sex would compare to a full blown relationship. He didn’t think to analyze it singularly. And he certainly didn’t calculate the logistics of a friends with benefits agreement when one of the friends in question already had romantic feelings for the other friend.

But Tech knew himself. He knew he could have feelings for you and not let them get in the way. He could accept what he was able to have and make peace with what he couldn’t. Casual sex seemed like a good idea when his emotions were the only ones he took into account.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall in love with him.

When you had said it, Tech thought his heart was going to stop right then and there. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t have imagined more precious words falling from your lips, and instantly it had him spiraling over the edge into ecstasy. But then the moment ended, and you didn’t say anything. He wanted to end the silence, to find out if you really meant it, but his brain was moving too fast to figure out what to say because he really hadn’t considered this would happen. It was naive of him, he supposed, but he really had thought the two of you could have done it without the emotional complications. Part of him, of course, was thrilled, but the other part of him, the logical part, was thrown into absolute chaos at the implications of your statement and what it would mean and all the statistics and probabilities he had calculated and

And you still hadn’t said anything. Tech could see you out of the corner of his eye, face red and chest heaving with emotion. You looked embarassed, regretful, and the realization that maybe you didn’t mean it hit him like a brick to the face. Maybe it was just something that slipped out, something your orgasm-addled mind had conjured up against your will and now you didn’t know how to take it back, didn’t know the right way to tell him you don’t actually love him.

It was too much for him to process at once, and he ran to the refresher in the hopes that he could clear his head and actually think coherently about the situation for a moment. Tech couldn’t have been in there long, maybe a few minutes, just long enough to splash some water on his face, look himself in the eye, and come to the conclusion that he needed to just have a conversation with you instead of playing with hypothetical numbers in his head. But then he came back out and you were gone, and that seemed like all the answer he needed. You didn’t mean it.

That was good, right? You didn’t mean it, and the two of you could keep going the way you had been.

But the ache in Tech’s heart said otherwise. You didn’t love him. He loved you, he knew he did, and he could be ok with pretending he didn’t when he didn’t know how you felt. But he knew now. And it hurt.

It hurt everytime he talked to you, so he stopped talking to you. It hurt everytime he was near you, so he stopped being near you. It hurt everytime he looked at you, so he stopped looking. The squad’s performance hadn’t been altered, so Tech concluded that the awkwardness could be tolerated until your presence didn’t feel so much like a blaster shot to his chest.

But just like pretty much every other choice Tech had made in regards to you, that plan only worked until it backfired horrifically.

***

The Batch were back on Kamino in between missions. Tech had been vaguely aware of Hunter being called in to a meeting of some sort, but he offered his full attention as Hunter stormed back into their room and huffed his way to Tech’s workbench.

“I don’t know what you did, but you need to fix things with Y/N. Now”

At the mention of your name, Tech pretended to return to his work, fiddling with a tool and avoiding eye contact.

“I do not know what you are referring-“

“Like hell you don’t Tech! The two of you haven’t even looked at each other in weeks and now they’ve put in a request to be transferred to another unit, so don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”

Tech shot up, tools abandoned and stool knocked over with the force of his standing.

“They requested a transfer?”

“Yeah, they did. Now, I don’t know what happened, but I know your little silent treatment has been hurting them a lot. I don’t want to see them go, and you don’t either. So go talk to them and fix it, or I’ll have you transferred instead,” Hunter ordered, finger pointed at Tech’s chest. The threat was empty, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears regardless.

Tech all but sprinted out into the hall, desperate to change your mind before you left them for good. As much as it pained him to be near you, the thought of being without you was somehow so much worse. He reached your quarters and unceremoniously burst in, barely giving the doors enough time to slide open before he was moving past them.

You jumped at his sudden entrance, hand coming up to clutch your chest.

“Maker, Tech you scared me!”

“Please don’t leave”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for the first time. His chest was heaving, like he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes were frantic and impossibly wide behind his goggles. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so disheveled, even when you’d slept with him.

You wanted to look away, but you were conscious of the fact that this was the first time you had made eye contact in Maker knows how long and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Tech, I-I can’t stay with the way things are. I’m sorry about what I said, I know it was just supposed to be a friend thing and I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you. I really tried not to, but I did and I ruined everything and you can’t even look at me anymore so how can I-“

Tech took step closer, cutting off your rambling as his brow furrowed.

“You fell in love with me?”

He spoke so quietly, it was barely above a whisper. You nodded, confused at his surprised considering the whole issue was that you told him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same. That was the issue, right?

You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to process what was happening.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t mean it”

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Why would you think that?”

“Y-you didn’t say anything. You confessed your affections for me while in a compromised state and didn’t say anything else afterwards. Your body language indicated regret and-and you left. I concluded that you said it by accident, and did not actually mean it,” he explained as calmly as he could in his rattled state.

“I left because I told you I loved you and you locked yourself in the fresher! And then you wouldn’t talk to me so I figured you were mad at me because I have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same way!”

Tech’s face broke out in a huge grin, and just as you were about to ask him why he was so happy all of a sudden, he rushed forward and passionately slotted his lips against yours. You gasped into him before immediately reciprocating the kiss, and you tangled your hands in his hair as his fingers desperately clutched your hips. Of all the kisses you had shared with him, none had felt the way this one did. There was an emotion pouring into it, one that had always been on the verge of spilling over but never had before. Eventually you broke apart, and you cursed your lungs for needing air.

He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, and broke the silence after a few moments.

“I love you, too. I have for a significant amount of time. When you left that night, I incorrectly assumed you did not share my affections. I avoided you after because I… I was hurt. I apologize for misinterpreting your actions, and for allowing you to think that I was upset with you. I assure you, that could not be further from reality.”

You laughed giddily, bumping his nose with yours as you relished in his confession.

“If you loved me, why did you just want to be friends with benefits?”

Tech blushed and look down, a sheepish look overtaking his features.

“Well, I performed a cost-benefit analysis on engaging in a romantic relationship, and the potential complications were too great. A platonic sexual partnership offered a less risky alternative. Although, I must admit that I failed to properly calculate the possible outcomes of such an agreement between two individuals in our specific situation,” he elaborated.

“We might be the two dumbest people in the galaxy,” you joked with a giggle.

“Technically, it is statistically impossible for that to be true, given-“

You cut him off with another deep kiss, your hands coming to rest on his arms as they kept you in his iron-clad grip. He had never loosened his hold, as though he thought if he let you go, you would disappear.

Abruptly, the kiss ended as Tech pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Does this mean you are no longer transferring out of our squad?”

You grinned.

“That depends. Does this mean we can have a real relationship, not just sex?”

Tech brought one hand to rest on his jaw as he looked upwards and pretended to be deep in thought.

“Well, according to my calculations, we have already experienced nearly all of the possible complications of pursuing a romantic relationship, so I have no objection to enjoying some of the benefits,” he concluded with a playful smile.

You leaned up to kiss him again, pausing just before your lips made contact with his to make a sly comment.

“And we know how good we are at some of those benefits already”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #tech tbb #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #tech x y/n #tech x you #the bad batch x reader

[sombreboy]

the alpha⇢hybrid!pjm

⤍18+ ⤍pairing: wolf!hybrid Jimin x human!female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, stranger fuck ⤍word count: 8.5k ⤍warnings: sub!y/n, dom!pjm, profanity, drinking, blowjob, jimin’s compliment kink knows no bounds, he calls you little lamb a lot, degdrading names, unprotected sex, creampie/knotting, light impreg kink, mating, rough fucking, licking, torrential downpour of cum.

A/N: Co-written with lovely @ppersonna​ as an rp. ♡

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything.

The city never sleeps. A saying that has been true for the past century, and it remains true til this day, where humans and hybrids now coexist as equals. Well, as equal as it gets. Hybrids were a superior species with their mixed genetics, gaining attributes from said animals that they have in them. Whether it be stronger bodies, beautiful patterns and physical alterations– they were seen as the greater species. But yet humans managed to keep up, somewhat. It wasn’t that much different. Park Jimin is one of those hybrids. His genetics were intertwined with that of a white wolf, giving his hair a bright blonde color. However, he had it dyed not too long ago, so the color was instead a washed out purple mixed into his blonde curls. His irises were a bright orange, pupils as black as the leather jacket and pants he wore. One wouldn’t think he looked terribly intimidating at a first glance, but his stare could make anybody feel a shiver run down their spine from the sheer intensity of it.

He was the alpha, after all.

Jimin spent every single night at a nightclub that was famous specifically for being dominated by the predatory hybrids. Lions, tigers, snakes, foxes… Wolves. Jimin’s pack was the hybrids that people came for most of the time.For what, you may ask? To get thoroughly fucked without mercy, of course. But that was only possible if you caught their interest, or you’d have to settle for the snake.

Jimin’s pack consisted of three other wolf hybrids… Hoseok, the beta. Which practically means he’s one rank below Jimin, who is the leader. The other two hybrids are Namjoon and Yoongi, who are one rank below Hoseok, making them the deltas. They don’t care, they are content to just follow along with what their leader says, but are often given their own choice to do however they please either way. Together, they form quite the diverse group, and they were notorious and alluring for newcomers and common faces.

Jimin loved it, the dark, crowded underground venue, flashing lights, alcohol… And humans. More often than not, only hybrid women came by. Rich ones. Easy to spot. But what truly had the wolf riled up, was when a human would stumble in. Their scent was an entirely different game. He allowed his pack to separate, but never going too far as they headed to find their own prey for the night, while Jimin himself remained still, leaning against the bar counter with a pink, sugary drink in his hand, straw tightly pressed between his plushy, glossy lips.

It was time to hunt.

~

You weren’t sure what came over you—what drew you to the idea of leaving your cozy and safe, structured life and entering the dark unknown. The nightclub was somewhere you previously steered clear of, even crossed the street to avoid being next to it when walking by. It was decidedly not your scene, and the idea of the strong, intuitive hybrids sent a chill down your spine.

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You stayed away from it like a drug. You knew the moment you gave in, you’d sink down the black hole into utter depravity. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything. It was hard to be confident in such a stifling environment. Your tight little crop top covered only the barest of your modesty, and the tight skirt accentuated your curves. The confidence you felt in the mirror of your apartment soon dissipated as you walked into the loud club. You could feel the hungry stares, the intense eyes of all the men and women in the place.

You didn’t know who or what you were looking for—rather, hoping they would find you instead. You craved the idea of giving up your power, your control to someone who could hold it over you and force you into submission. The thought made your core burn with need. The bartender slid your simple cocktail towards you with a wink as you settled into the stool awkwardly, trying to appear much stronger than the scared little human you were. You knew they all could smell it on you—the mixture of fear and arousal. So many of them approached you, attempted to charm their way inside you, but none of them felt right. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you should have stayed home. You can’t help but feel a burn of shame and disappointment as you chug your drink as quickly as you can to make a desperate dash towards the door.

Your nervous eyes skittered around the room, watched as each ravenous alpha eye-fucked you. It was terrifying, intimidating. It cemented just how wrong you were to come here, until— he came into view. Your breath nearly collapsed in your lungs as you took in the vision of the lavender haired man. He was gorgeous. Not just attractive but ethereal in his visage. Your pupils dilated, heart rate increased as you stared at him. You were blatant in your gaze, unable to wrench your eyes elsewhere. He was simply the most captivating man you’ve ever seen in your life, and your body burned with desperate need for him. After moments of desperate staring, you finally shake yourself off and peer down at your empty drink. Was it him? What was so magnetic about the lithe man? Could he be the one to finally claim what you needed to give up? Your cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and need, hoping that he didn’t notice your blatant ogling. Fuck.

Jimin’s fiery gaze flickered to meet yours the very second he felt your eyes on him, straw still tightly sucked between his lips. He crooked a coy eyebrow at you as he pushed himself up from his leaning position to stand upright, no hesitation in his bones in the way he slowly sauntered over to you. His hips swayed in a light strut, mesmerizing in every sense of the word; the predatory genes within giving him these very traits to be alluring for it’s prey. And it seemed to be working, with the way your eyes were glued on him. He stopped when he was right in front of you, giving just enough space for him to be able to observe your fit from top to bottom, but close enough for you to smell his distinct scent. Sweet, calming– arousing. His natural pheromones didn’t leave anybody unaffected, even turning heads on his way, eyes wide with both surprise and envy that the alpha had approached… well, you. “How refreshing with a new face.” Jimin’s canary voice was sweet, yet it had an undertone of a light growl. His canines poked out as he smiled, plush upper lip curling up to showcase his pearly whites further.

Your blush furthered a deeper shade of rose as he approached. Fuck. He definitely saw you staring. The power in his gaze and strut over to you screamed alpha. Hopefully he wasn’t the kind to bite and then ask questions. You’d unfortunately run into that type before.

The blood in your veins pulsed hard, skyrocketing your nerves. He looked so good. It was almost unfair that someone so fucking beautiful existed. You felt small and plain in comparison to the gorgeous man. His whole being exuded sultry command. You nibbled at your bottom lip as he sauntered up to you. Your body was reacting already to his presence, his voice. The entire club was staring at you, curious of the exchange that would happen between the exquisite man and you, the nervous little human. “I-,” you struggled to answer. If he wasn’t aware of how nervous you were before, he would be now—surely. “I don’t really come to these types of places.”

Try as you might, you couldn’t stop staring at the man’s gorgeous pout and terrifyingly attractive teeth. Your heart beat pounded hard in your head, overpowering the loud beat of music.

“D-do you come here often?” You asked, hoping to be polite despite the pooling arousal and growing fear.

Jimin’s smile slowly morphed into a wolfish grin, the apple of his cheeks puffing up until his eyes were shaped like small crescent moons. He almost looked harmless and inviting. “Cute…” he mused under his breath before he took a daring step closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently run his fingers through the piece of stray hair that had fallen forward over your face. He brought the locks to his nose, inhaling deeply. A low rumble vibrated in his chest.. You smelled divine. Even through the shampoo and possible product, he could smell your scent behind it all. “Yeah, I come here, every. single. night…” Jimin winked before withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his hip, his stance powerful and graceful. His dark pupils quivered when he raked down your body for a second time, the wolf ears sticking out from his hair flickering with curiosity. “Why are you here, little lamb?” He cooes at you, licking his upper teeth as he steps closer. He had no problem hearing you through the booming music, but how would you know? It gave him more of an excuse to get closer. “Looking like that?” Of course he knew why. He could smell why. But it was of no news that Jimin loved to play with his prey, ramp up the anxiety until he could practically taste it on his tongue.

Your heart thumped so loud in your chest you were sure all of the club could hear it. If they couldn’t, they definitely could smell the thrum of anxiety pulsing through you. His voice sizzled in your veins, erupting into flames as it enveloped you. Then, he touched you. The simple act of moving your hair had your mind reeling. You could smell him—he was so close you wanted to bury your face in his chest and breathe deeply. His question caught you off guard. Why were you here? Did you even know the answer to that? Your cherry cheeks flushed and you ducked your head, trying to avoid his sultry and tempting gaze. He continued to get closer and it made you tremble with a mix of fright and need. His power was overwhelming, and all you wanted to do was kneel for him.

“I’m—…not quite sure,” you spoke truthfully as you took another sip of your rapidly melting drink. “I’ve never been here before. I think I wanted something… scary.” Your big doe eyes sought out his, so mystifying with their exotic color and shape. He was truly so gorgeous it made your mouth salivate. You squirmed in your seat, suddenly feeling self conscious of your outfit. “My friend told me I should wear something sexy.” Your cheeks were so hot, so embarrassed by how easily you wanted to give into the terrifyingly attractive alpha. “I’m wondering if maybe this was a bad idea…”

 Although the music around them was blaring, it felt like a long moment of silence dragged on between the two when Jimin didn’t answer for a hot second. He kept his stare fixed on your face, the small expressions of embarrassment, curiosity, and purity drew him in. He’s truly never encountered a human like you before. One that dared to come here despite being so… weak. It was like you were begging to be eaten, dangling like a fresh piece of the finest meat in front of all these hungry predators. Jimin could hear it, the rumbling growls and groans of men in the room, hoping that the alpha wolf would lose interest and leave a piece for them to get a taste.

“Scary?” He suddenly chirped, his smile more of a smirk at this point as he placed his drink on the bar counter, ice jumping in the glass from the harsh clonk. He bent forward to shamelessly brush his cheek against yours, a subtle way of rubbing his scent off on your skin, knowing it’d avert some of the attention around him– he’s already begun to claim you for himself. His hot breath fanned your ear as he spoke.

“I can smell your lust for fear, little lamb… Do I scare you?” Jimin’s hand softly snaked down the curve of your hip, smoothing his ring-clad fingers down your thigh until he was greeted by your scorching skin. He squeezed the flesh between his digits, cold rings digging into your thigh as he exhaled another hot, quivering breath against your neck, loving the way your scent was slowly mixing with his own.

The man’s simple action of brushing his cheek against your own had your body seizing up. You could smell him as he rubbed his soft skin on yours—a heady mix of something fruity and something naturally luscious. It embarrassed you to know how arousing his simple act had been. You chided yourself internally for feeling your body heat at his gentle action. You licked your lips as he whispered hot words into your ear, making a tingle travel down your spine.

“Y-yes,” you murmured. “You scare me more than anyone h-here.” His hands gripping your thigh made a quiet moan escape your lips. It was desperate. You felt overstimulated and yet so desperate to be touched by the terrifying alpha. Suddenly feeling emboldened, your hands gripped at his sides, slipping under his expensive shirt to touch at the toned skin of his obliques and anchoring yourself to him there.

Jimin’s hand flew down to wrap his fingers around your small wrist, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. His hand on your thigh swiftly withdrew, and the loss of his warmth had you internally whining for more. “Did I say you could touch me?” His voice wasn’t hostile, yet it oozed with the asserting of his dominance. “You’re a daring girl.” He smiles at you, the contrast between his hungry gaze and his softly curved lips was confusing to say the least– but there was no doubt that he was not the kind to simply allow anything without permission.

The alpha’s sudden movement and grip on your hand made you squeal with fright—eyes widening and heart stopping its beat in your chest. Your mouth ran dry. Your terror coursed through you with the distinct tang of need. His dominance made you even more desperate. “I’m sorry,” you peeped quietly, itching to move your fingers away in case it angered him further but also needing to feel his tender skin underneath you once more. “I didn’t mean—..” you stuttered as you felt brave enough to peer up in his enchanting eyes. His smile was comforting but the hungry gaze in his stare had you trembling. Jimin cupped your cheek, hushing you with reassurance– although he seemed way too amused with the way you were practically shaking underneath his touch.

“Breathe. We’re all here to have a good time.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, noting just how dry it had become. He decided to order another set of drinks, handing one to you that was the same pink shade as the one he got for himself. “Drink.” He didn’t ask, but he commanded you to accept his offer.

You were powerless to deny any demand the man made. Even if he had asked, you’d still be eating out of the palm of his hand like a terrified and starved pet. His thumb on your lips made you ache to open and accept his digit in your mouth, swirl your tongue around it teasingly. Your eyes sought his—hoping you could portray some of the arousal you felt over your innocent fright. You took a sip—a large one in hopes of lowering your frightened inhibitions to open up more to the beautiful man. “Mmm—,” you hummed as your eyes fluttered to close. “This is delicious.” It was sweet on your tongue, but not cloyingly. It warmed you and made your body loose.

“It’s my favorite.” Jimin agreed, already half way through his own. The entire time he kept his eyes trained on your lips, the darkening color on your cheeks from the heat that both alcohol and his proximity provided. When finished, he stretched his back with a light pop, the shirt he’s wearing underneath the jacket lifting just enough for the prominent V-line that snaked down his pants teasingly on display. His visuals were unmatched. He took off his jacket, leaving it unattended by the counter. No one would dare to touch it anyway, the leather oozing of his distinct scent. Only somebody with a death wish would. He combed his fingers through his hair, licking his lower lip clean form the residue sugar from this drink. His ears perked up when the lights dimmed further, and a new song came into play, booming through the speakers that caused a pleasant vibration to pulse through the building.

“I love this song.” Jimin reached for your arm to tug you out of the chair with him towards the crowded dance floor. As per usual, there was no question of whether you wanted to or not, but with a few drinks, and his intoxicating presence, it didn’t seem too bad. For Jimin, this was just part of his foreplay. He brought you into the crowd, tightly packed with all kinds of scents and musks. But the only one he could smell was yours, slowly morphing with his own as he placed his hands on your hips from behind, nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled. “Feel that? The beat?” He growled into your ear, swaying his hips along with the way he moved yours back and forth.

The music, once quiet and unassuming to you, now became loud and matched the beat of your heart. The alpha was dragging you towards the dance floor and in the midst of the hungry crowd, staring at you from where they rubbed up against each other. Just as you were trying to understand where to move, how to adjust your body to the dance, he pressed himself up behind you and gripped your hips. You could feel your pulse running through your veins and the way his touch electrified your skin. “Y-yeah,” you murmured as your hips began to move without thought. They easily swayed with the man’s guidance and you shivered as his nose pressed into your neck. It was like he couldn’t get enough of your scent, your being. The man’s hyper fixation on you had your core drenched—and you knew he could likely smell just how aroused for him you were. You let your eyes close and follow his guiding hold on your body, your ass pressing back against him to rub and grind along his length. It seemed the alphas drink was bringing you ever so gently out of your shell. “Mmm, I feel the beat right here.”

“Fuck, you smell good…” Jimin growled into your ear, his claw-like grip on your hips tightening to keep you in place as he pressed his hips right back against your ass, his cock prominent through the thin layer of his leather pants. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, it was driving him near insanity to practically taste your arousal on his tongue along with the overwhelming smell. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?” He huffed, tastefully biting your earlobe as one hand smoothed down your thigh to tug at the hem of your dress, unbothered to the fact that other hybrids were spying on them. He wanted them to see the way he got to have you, and they don’t. The way you were oozing with lust for the alpha, the pungent arousal of yours surely drove not just Jimin feral, but every single hybrid in the venue. And no one could say a fucking thing.

It was hard to hold back the peeps of surprise and arousal as you felt the alpha’s growing cock against you. Your body instinctively continued to rub and further agitate the hardening length to fully erect. When you felt his hands on you, your body reacted. You knew your cunt was oozing, likely soaking the satin panties underneath your tight skirt and soon to drip down your leg in a sign of utter submission and need to the alpha behind you. “Y-yes,” you whined. “I n-need you.” The admittance was shameless–the alcohol and lowered inhibitions making it easier for you to admit your desires to the man without regret. You could sense that he was showing you off and you complied, allowed the man to present you to everyone in the club who stared with bloodlust for you. “Please,” you gasped, not quite sure of what you were asking for other than him–more him. “Please, take me.”

Jimins wolfish grin grew against your skin before he swiftly grabbed you by your wrist to pull you with him, guiding the two of you towards privacy. Normally, he’d take his prey to the back, or even home… but there was an urgency within him that was too strong to ignore, there was no time– he needed to claim you now. So he pulled you into the bathroom close by, slamming your back against the wall with a thud the moment the door closed behind you. His heavy breaths were laced with small grunts as he crashed his pillowy lips against yours, hands greedily peeling the skirt of your dress up to expose your ass for him to harshly grab onto, squeezing the soft flesh between his ring clad fingers until it protruded between his digits, sharp nails digging into your delicate skin. “Fuck, you drive me crazy, little lamb.” Jimin hisses between hot kisses, the vibrating growl in his chest growing louder as he bites down on your lower lip to draw more innocent whines from your sweet throat. “Every single male in there wishes they could mate with you, shit… the male pheromones were off the roof, they’re all gonna jerk off to the memory of this–” one of his hands cupped your pussy through your soaked panties, dragging his palm to feel the damp fabric stain his skin. “Of how delicious your cunt smells… it’s like a fucking drug.”

Your eyes widened as the strong and sensual man dragged you from the dance floor to the bathroom. The same terror that once pulled through you now flooded every sense. Had you done something wrong? Was he going to harm you? Your worries were sucked up the second he pressed his lips to yours hungrily. Kissing him was like standing too close to a fire. He was hot, so hot, and before you knew it, you’d be engulfed in his hot, licking flames. His hands felt like palpable sin in your flesh and you needed more. “Please,” you whimpered as his hands cupped at your core. You knew you were a mess—dripping with shameless need for the alpha. The kisses turned deeper as you allowed his tongue entrance into your mouth and sought purchase in his own. Your hands stayed by your sides, itching to touch him but remembering his previous warning. “Please, let me touch you. Anywhere.” It felt like you were dying and the only cure was him—any bit of him on you and underneath your fingertips. “Ahh—,” you whined as his hand continued his assault on your cunt. “It’s a-all for you. I don’t want anyone else, only you.”

Jimin’s auburn gaze glowed as he pulled back from the kiss, his pointy canines poking out as he smiled. “You want to touch me?” He purred as he pressed your body harder back against the wall with his own, gliding the pads of his fingers up and down your clothed slit until he feels the swell of your clit through your panties, only to give it extra attention by circling his digits with just enough pressure. Not enough to satisfy, but not enough to not drive you crazy. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so… But don’t worry, good behavior will be rewarded.” Jimin added with his lighter tone of voice, leaning in to nudge your chin to the side with his nose– like a dog would. He softly grazes the skin of your neck with his nose, lips; a deep inhale through his nostrils triggered a vibrating rumble in his throat, and a prominent, heavy throb in his pants. “We’re not in a rush.” He whispered against your neck before placing open mouthed kisses down your skin until he reached the slope of your neck, feeling as his cock grew harder– the more aggressive his kisses became. From soft pecks, to messy sucking, surely painting your delicate skin with splashes of purple.

Feeling the man all over your body and being denied to touch was maddening, but deliciously so. His fingers dipped into your slit and teased so delicately that you thought you might cry if he didn’t give you something soon. Your moans turned into desperate whines and gasps as you allowed him to continue his thorough torture of your clit. Kissing him felt like sin, like heaven and hell. He was everything you wanted—everything you sought after when you stepped foot into the very club you now were being thoroughly debauched in. His cock felt heavy and thick against you and it made you whisper against his lips in arousal and desperation. He trailed down your body and you let out a shaky moan as you felt his sharp incisors suckle and nip at the delicate skin. “Use me,” you begged gently. “P-Please, make me yours.”

Your hips ground against his, rubbing against his hardened length as much as you could to alleviate the burn between your thighs. “Fuck, I want you so bad, please sir.”

“Such a good girl, asking so nicely.” Jimin’s low voice resembled a mix between his natural voice and a growl, the raspyness of it forcing a chill running down your spine, reminding you that he was indeed not human, but a hungry predator. Which is exactly what he was– well, it’s a part of him he only indulges in on nights like these, in a place like this. Who he was outside of these walls, nobody truly knew. His fingers curled around the fabrics of your panties to swiftly rip them off, carelessly discarding them to the dirty floor. Now exposed, your scent was stronger than ever. He shamelessly inhaled through his nose, eyes fluttering in pleasure, feeling the droplets of precum staining his swollen tip underneath the restraining pants.

“Still reconsidering whether coming here was a good or bad idea?” He asks through his breathy voice as he pulled back to look at your needy expression, all while his hands casually reach down to undo his pants, slowly peeling the leather down his hips. His cock sprung up proudly, drooling with arousal down his glistening skin, a content sigh pushing past his plushy lips. “Hm? You like it?” Jimin’s piercing gaze flickered between his cock and your face, grabbing the shaft with his hand. “Want a taste? All you have to do is drop to your knees on the filthy floor…”

Everything about the man radiated power. He mystified you. He even looked beautiful, gorgeous rather, under the harsh fluorescent lights. You were sure you would follow him off the edge of a cliff if he told you to. You didn’t know his name but you didn’t need to, he had you between his delicate fingers. Your breath hitched as he ripped your soaked panties off your body. The cool air of the bathroom was startling against your heated cunt. It made you gasp out loud. “I-I think it was a good idea,” you gulped. Your eyes were big, pleading and needy as you peered into his own. He had you completely under his spell.

Your mouth watered as the man pushed his skintight pants down and exposed his length to you. It was perfect. Thick and long and curved just right that made your core ache for him. You dropped to your knees without hesitation, ignoring the way the wet floor felt against your body. The floor was disgusting but nothing would stop you from pleasing the alpha. You shimmied your skirt up your body, allowing your bare ass and cunt to be exposed to the open air as you knelt before him.

“Please.” The word was becoming your prayer, repeated to the god above you to grant you your blessings. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue—an obedient little dog in heat. You wanted nothing more than to take him in your mouth without warning but you knew now to wait. You wanted to please the alpha so badly.

Jimin’s eyes darkened immensely at the gorgeous view beneath him, the fiery color of his irises barely visible for they were practically blackened out. If there was something the alpha adored, it was to look down on his prey, being begged to use them as he pleased. You were the perfect plaything for him. “So pretty.” He cooed, a small smile curling up on his upper lip to expose his pointy teeth. He gave his cock a few lazy strokes, his other hand gently combing through your hair before he abruptly curls his fingers to tug at it. He drew you in closer to his red, dripping length as he kept stroking it, eyes not even blinking once as he stared down at you. “Can’t wait to pump you full of my cum… Fuck, such a slut for my cock already.” His words grew filthier the more aroused he became. His patience ran low, so he guided the tip of his drooling cock to your lips, tugging your hair to draw you even closer to take his length down your throat. “Only good girls can take it all. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Come on…”

The intensity of the alphas gaze made you shiver on the sodden ground and you could tell your cunt was dripping, likely even dripping down onto the very same floor. The bite of pain in your hair stung as he gripped you, but it sizzled and burned until it added to the overall sensation and made your nipples harden in delight. You breathed in deep, steeling yourself as his length came closer. His salacious words made you tremble and ooze with excitement. You wanted nothing more than to be a vessel, a hole for him to wrench pleasure from. His length was warm and dripping with precum. It felt so thick and heavy on your tongue as he continued to push it in. You audibly moaned as you felt it push past your uvula. He was so thick and tasted like salt and sweetness. You let your lips close and wrap around him as you took him to the hilt. You flicked your eyes up to him, shining with tears of strain from the thickness choking your throat. You wanted to prove how good you were, how well you could take him.

After a moment of holding his length as deep as it could go, you pulled back slightly to begin a bobbing motion as you sucked greedily on his cock. Saliva pooled around your lips as you drew him in and out, and the sounds you made sucking could be heard over the thumping of the bar music. You wanted to prove yourself to the alpha, show him you could be more than just a one time type of girl. You wanted him to claim you forever.

“Oh, fuck yes…” Jimin’s pillowy lips parted in initial surprise, but quickly he bit back his low groan as it rumbled in his chest. He knew you were needy, but he didn’t expect you to be so greedy to suck him off. And being so good at it on top of being eager to please– it was oddly new. Normally, every past experience of his was not like this, but more like him doing every piece of the work for a ragdoll, so watching you work his cock so willingly, attentive to his own reactions and pleasure in a different way…. It hit something in him that only riled him up further than anybody had ever done previously.

“Deeper. Gag on it, make it messy.” His chest heaved up and down heavily, deep huffs through his nose displaying just how good he feels in between the low moans, no shame in showcasing how good it feels. He presses his back against the wall, craning his neck to get a good look of the way your lips stretched around his thick shaft. “I can hear your cunt dripping… Can scent it, god, it smells divine. Your insides must be aching for me.” He murmurs as he drives his hips forward a bit rougher to meet your movements, eager to feel your throat constrict around him when he hits too far down your throat. “Coat your fingers in your juices, little lamb. Show me.”

The praise made you preen, and even more desperate to prove your worth to the man. His cock was so big inside your mouth it was hard to keep yourself from gagging, but you worked against it and continued to suck and slurp down his length. You obeyed every order, and slicked him up until your mouth was squelching with saliva around him and it dripped from your face like a tap. You whined around his length as you obeyed, keeping up a pace as you buried a hand down to your exposed core. You nearly gasped at the feeling. You were absolutely soaked and dripping with anticipation. Your fingers swirled in the wetness and coated you easily. You desperately wanted to touch your clit and play with yourself to bring you to your own end but you knew now it was better to wait for his instruction.

While maintaining your eager pace and swirling tongue, you lifted your dripping fingers from your cunt and presented them to the man above you, eyes still trained on his own in utter submission.

Jimin’s eyes quivered at the sight, pupils shrinking as he zeroes in on the glossy sheen on your fingers. His cock twitched in your mouth once, twice before he decided that he’d been patient enough… He could not wait any longer to claim you as his own. He pushed his palm against your forehead until his length was ripped from your throat, drool and precum dribbling down your chin. A long string of the juices seeped down his cock, another piece of it connected to your lips. It was an absolute mess, just the way he liked it.

“Up.” He growled, but before you were even able to obey his orders on your own, he pulled you up by your wrist, bringing the very coated fingers of yours into his mouth. All while maintaining eye contact, his swollen, pink lips eagerly sucked your arousal clean from your digits, swirling his skillful, rough tongue. Around, in between… He refused to let a single drop go to waste. “Mm..” he hummed when he let go of your fingers with a pop of his lips, the small smirk in the corners of his mouth widening. A light thudding sound caught your attention from behind him, his fluffy, white tail wagging in excitement, hitting the wall with every whip. “It’s a bit hot… Take my jacket off.” He suddenly asks, but his sweet tone was deceptive with the underlying command luring in his predatory gaze. He turns around, lowering his shoulders to allow you to easily slide the leather off, his tail playfully brushing against your thighs.

You nearly whined as Jimin forced you away from his cock—not wanting to remove yourself from the thick length that fit so perfectly in your drooling mouth. But the whine is cut short by his demand to stand and as he sucks your fingers into his mouth you nearly forget everything else around you. “A-ah, fuck,” you breathed—pupils dilating at the sight of the gorgeous man sucking your juices off your delicate fingers. Your cunt pulsated around nothing, so desperate for his thick cock now that the arousal has dripped down the insides of your thighs. “Yes sir,” you whispered as your fingers found the edges of his jacket and pulled it off his body. His tail makes your eyes widen as the soft fur brushes against your legs. You’ve never been with a hybrid before, never been with an alpha hybrid at that, and you’re eager to learn just how he differs in other ways. You couldn’t help but marvel at the muscles on the lithe man. He’s thin, but built and you found you’re desperate to lick up the defined lines of his abs. “You’re so p-pretty,” you whispered without knowing it escaped you, marveling at the gorgeous man.

Jimin’s tail trembled with more excitement at the praise, oddly enough. He’s been called many things. Sexy, scary, hot, alluring… Pretty? He liked it.

“Yeah?” he breathes out a small chuckle through his nose, pressing his lips together in thought. He shook his head to get rid of his mind wandering too far, instead back to indulging in the moment– focused on the aching throb between his legs. Jimin pulls his shirt over his head to expose his full torso, the tattoo on his ribs on clear display along with the faded, scattered scars adorning his skin in the form of striped, claw like patterns. Now with his body freed from the cage that is fabrics, he didn’t waste another second to grab you by the hips, turn you around to face away from him, and immediately push you forward to force you to use the sink as leverage. The large, dirty mirror on the wall stared back at you, clear enough for you to see the two of you in this sinful moment.

“You’re pretty too. A pretty slut, about to get her pretty little cunt stretched so bad you’ll be ruined for any other male.” Jimin’s canine adorned smile grew as he stared you down through the reflection in the mirror, grasp on your hips moving to the flesh of your ass. His foot kicks your feet apart, forcing you to stand wider and spread for him. A quick glance down and he already sees just how wet and dripping your cunt was. He pushed the head of his cock against your slit, coating it with your juices before gently rocking forward, not going inside, instead just rubbing between your swollen lips.

“So pretty,” you murmured as your eyes washed over him. Your mouth ran dry as he pulled his shirt off and exposed himself to the hard light of the bathroom. He looked like sin incarnate and your body ached to touch. Your fingertips lightly trailed the skin of his abs, grazing over the tattoo with the faintest touch. The cold sink countertop felt like ice against your chest, still heaving with need as the man prepped your body for his entrance. “Please ruin me, alpha,” you begged, peering into his own gaze through the reflection of the mirror. Your knees and legs trembled as he teased his cock against your desperate slit. “Mark me as yours, please. I only want you.” His cock felt so thick even at the entrance, prodding and poking through your sodden folds. A moan wrenched through your lips as it pushed against your clit and slicked with your own arousal.

“Fuck me, please!” The teasing was near torture and you were desperate, pushing your hips back lightly to encourage the man to slip in and ruin you completely.

With lips closed, he smiled, eyebrows raising your desperation. It was almost mocking, yet pleased with just how desperate you were for him. Your initial fear seemed replaced with utter submission and desire to be his. “We’ve only been in here for minutes and you’re already pathetically wet.” As he spoke, his hips snapped forward to grant your one and only wish, filling your soppy hole with his fleshy, rigid cock. He had no desire to ease you into the stretch from his generous girth, immediately pulling back until merely the tip was engulfed by your cunt before drilling back into you with another squelching thrust. “Tight… no other cock must have ever stretched you this well, huh? Fuck..” He bites down his abused lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he had to gather himself. The scent you emitted was incredibly strong, intoxicating to his mind. It was like a high he’s never experienced before, and he knew he was already a lost cause to the addiction that is you.

The feeling of the alpha’s cock filling you completely was unparalleled. You’d never felt something within you so deep, never been stretched so far past your breaking point—and unable to care about the tearing pain. The pleasure outweighed the sizzling burn of pain. He was merciless and your whimpering moans echoed around the damp bathroom. “I—ohhhh fuck,” you gasped as he pushed into you yet again, spearing you nearly in half. It was as if you could feel him deep in your stomach, and you never wanted him to leave your soaked cunt. He was claiming his territory with each torturous thrust inside you that made your throat burn for more. “Only you,” you whimpered as his thrusts became merciless and powerful. “All y-yours now. Oh, god, so good,” you praised. You learned the beautiful man thrived on praise as much as you did on the dominant commands. Your hips moved in time with his powerful purses and the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the small room. “Oh my god, sir,” you cried as fat tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks. “You make me feel so good. I only want your c-cock inside me forever.” You knew now you would be hopelessly tied to the man, and you desperately ached for him to claim you as his own. “P-please, mark me as yours, alpha.”

The low, vibrating growl that rumbled throughout Jimin’s body would have anybody’s fight or flight instincts kicking in– the latter the most logical response from anyone within their right mind. His powerful thrusts were beyond that of what a human was capable of, the skin on your ass bruising with every loud, harsh collision of your bodies. “Only me?” he snarled through a wolfish grin, lips parting in a moan when your cunt clenched around his length. His sharp, claw like nails drew blood as they dug deep into the fleshy part of your waistline, moving your body like a ragdoll to meet his thrusts, your own attempts at doing so barely noticeable. “You want to be my little cockwhore?” Jimin leaned forward, hovering above you as he pressed his chest against your back, the grip on your waist moving to wrap around your torso with one arm, the other clawing at your jaw, forcing you to stare into the reflection in front of you. He keeps you tightly in place, feeling the way your body jiggles and jolts while he fucked into you with insatiable greed. “The alpha’s bitch?” His fiery eyes meet yours through the reflection, his toothy smile growing. He inches closer to drag his flattened tongue up your cheek, a coating of messy saliva dripping down your sweaty skin. Claiming you in every sense of the word.

The man claimed you roughly, making your throat rip with a desperate and wanton moan. His cock was pushing into your cunt deeper than anyone’s ever gone before, harder and with purpose. It was as if the man wanted to fuse your bodies together, become one. You certainly wanted it. His hands on your skin felt hot, feverish. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, at any time he could. You were hopeless addicted now. “Please,” you cried as the tears of pleasure poured from your face. “Claim this cunt as yours. I’m only yours!” You could feel your bliss piquing, building up to the impossible precipice. You whined as you watched your reflection. Your makeup smeared down your face with your sweat and tears. His fingers held your jaw tightly and your cunt pulsed around his heavy cock at the sight. You could see his heavy and thick length spearing into you and retracting smeared in your juices. Something inside you tells you it’s what you want to see for the rest of your life—only his cock ruining you and coaxing torrential orgasms out of you. “Yes! Breed me like the bitch in heat I am!” You cried out loud, no longer caring about your volume. Everyone in the bar could hear your desperate screams for the alpha and it only made you wetter, more aching for the man. “Fill me up with your seed, alpha! I need it, please! Cum inside me!”

The perked wolf ears adorning Jimin’s head flickered with his excitement, pointed forward to make sure he soaks up every little sound you make for him. You were so loud, shamelessly letting every hybrid in the building know just how good the alpha makes you feel. ‘Breed me.’ The words stuck to him, replaying in his mind whilst stuffing you with his cock over and over, the mix of your arousal and his precum dripping down into a puddle at the filthy bathroom floor. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you close as his thrusts changed pace. Still filled with greed and force, but no longer pulling back as much, instead keeping his cock lodged deep inside of you whilst prodding as deep inside of you as he possibly can. Jimin’s cock was on the verge of bursting inside of you, and instinctively he possessively sunk his teeth into the tender skin of your shoulder, shutting his eyes harshly. But just as quickly, his eyes opened back up, staring with wide eyes into the mirror when something he did not expect happened. He knew this was it, there was no going back. With one last, harsh thrust, he stilled his movements abruptly, heavy breathing down your neck as he kept you tightly in place– in case you would panic. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.. Put my little pups inside of you- fuck…” He growled into your skin, gnashing his teeth together. His cock grew inside of you, and he was physically unable to remove himself.

Whether it was intentional or not.. His body had chosen to breed you– to mate with you. “Mine.” He whined, and with that, his cock began to desperately pulsate inside of you as he disposed of his warm cum in heavy, pattern-like gushes. Like a volcano erupting, it didn’t stop, but he kept cumming, holding his hands on your stomach as he felt it start to lightly bulge from the amounts he was able to offer. “Gah…. shit… Look at you.” He could barely hold his voice stable, legs quivering, body twitching with every throb of his rigid length, still snugly wrapped by your cum-stuffed flesh.

Nothing in the world, in your life, has ever felt better than the way the alpha felt as he fucked into you. You barely knew the man, and yet you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over to him for as long as he wanted. You found yourself wanting to surrender your life to him. You felt safe in the security of his arms. As if you were always meant to find him, to be here with him. It didn’t matter that he had you in a damp bathroom, you would have him anyway and place. Your orgasm quickly approached, winding up and throttling you over the edge as your cunt convulsed around him. Your channels tightened and milked him, and you sobbed at the wave of pleasure creating over you.

“Yours,” you whined as your bodies stilled. His cock enlarged inside you, making your eyes widen and whimper as your hands clutched at his arms wrapped around you. You needed to touch him, stabilize yourself as your core widens to accept him and your tummy bulges from the amount of cum he pulses into you. It’s hot, and warm and you can feel it coating your walls thick. Your breathing was rapid, coming down from your high and the minor fright from having his cock widen and remain locked within you as he came.

“So big,” you whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek. “H-hurts… But I can take it. I’ll take it for you.” Your head lolls back and rests on his shoulder, allowing your body to relax around the feeling of his swollen knot. “Anything for you,” you murmured, as if you were in a daze. Your hands held on to his slender arms for support and reassurance, hoping desperately you pleased the alpha enough to keep you forever. “D-did I do okay?” You asked once, quiet as a mouse. Your confidence was quickly diminishing now that your orgasm subsided and your anxieties returned.

Jimin takes a long moment to catch his breath and collect himself, still holding you in his arms as if he never wanted to let you go in the first place. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t have to…

“You did so well, little lamb.” He purrs as he places a, surprisingly, gentle kiss with his pillowy lips against your clammy temple. His hands roam down to smooth his palms over the swell of your stomach, reassuring you that this indeed did please him to the max.

After another few minutes, his length finally went back to its original size, immediately feeling his cum seep out your hole. He pulls out, and the flood of his cum splattered against the floor. But it didn’t seem to faze him at all, instead his attention was set on you, feeling your stomach deflate with each passing second. He turned you around to face him, brushing the damp strand of hair away from your eyes as his features seemed to display nothing but gentle affection, his eyes almost disappearing into thin slits as he smiled. His tail wagged happily, and he decided to bring you in for a chaste kiss on the lips.

“My mate.” he breathes out as if it was a relief to finally have you. And it was, he’d been looking for somebody that would be his true mate for life, but believed he would simply be a lone wolf for eternity. But then you came along, as if destiny had thrown you (or rather, your friend threw you) into this place at this time, like a piece of meat for the alpha to claim.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#fic: the alpha #jimin smut #hybrid jimin #hybrid jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #jimin x you #jimin x yn #jimin x y/n #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts hybrid smut #sombreboy #ppersonna #hybridbtsnetwork

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Have I Been Bad, Officer?

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Handcuffs Oneshot

Nesta surprises Cassian for a little Anniversary fun. Turns out, real handcuffs work better than sex-shop knock-offs.

Written for Nessian Month @illyrianet

Prompt: Handcuffs

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Police/Handcuffs

4102 words

*******

Cassian watched as another car approached his police cruiser, spotted it, and abruptly slowed down to pass him. Even pulled off on the shoulder of the road, the logo of Velaris PD stood out on the side of the car.

He rolled his eyes. Normally he would have cared more, but that was the only car he’d seen in the last ten minutes and he was already in a bad mood; he decided it was best for everyone if he didn’t take his frustration out on whatever poor driver had the bad luck of getting his attention.

He shouldn’t be sitting in his patrol car waiting to pull people over for speeding. He should be at home with his beautiful, devious wife, celebrating their anniversary.

Cassian had made a point to ask for the day off. The next two days off, actually. He wasn’t going to rush any of their anniversary plans. But then an officer called in sick, and another had a family emergency, and suddenly Cassian was being dragged into work because a personal day took less preference, unfortunately.

Nesta understood. At first, she’d threatened to go down to the precinct and tell his chief exactly what she thought about the decision, but Cassian convinced her that if she did that then he’d be fired and would consequently have every day off. It sounded good until he reminded both of them that being fired means he wouldn’t be making money, and it turns out you need money to live.

And although Nesta understood, she certainly wasn’t making it easy on him. Every fifteen minutes his phone chimed with a new message from her.

At first, it was just an ‘I love you’, and ‘Happy Anniversary’, but that soon turned into her explaining all things she was going to do to him when he got home.

And all the things she wanted him to do to her.

Then the pictures started.

Each new picture showed Nesta in a different outfit. A few were of her in different lingerie sets, a couple of them, Cassian noted excitedly, were ones he hadn’t seen before.

Another picture was of her in just his shirt, kneeling on the ground, back arched with her nipples pressing through the fabric.

The latest one was of Nesta in nothing but his uniform’s hat, and bright red lipstick.

Groaning loudly, Cassian rubbed his hands over his face. He willed his cock to calm down and counted down the seconds until he could get home and follow through with some of the requests she made.

The next twenty minutes passed without any more cars driving by and without any more of Nesta’s texts. Good, he thought, she was done torturing him when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Cassian noticed a set of headlights approaching in the distance. Still mostly hidden from view, he watched as the car sped past him. Speeding. He rolled his eyes and watched for more cars.

He didn’t have to wait long. A minute later a car sped by him going the other direction. Cassian sat up at full attention; it was the same car, but this time it was driving even faster.

He watched as the car took the next exit, turned around, and drove back towards him.

Confused, Cassian waited until it was almost to him and then he turned on his lights and sirens and pulled out into the road behind the strange car.

Almost immediately, the driver slowed and pulled off onto the road’s shoulder.

In the shine of his headlights, Cassian could easily read the license plate of the familiar-looking car he stopped. He recognized it as easily as he knew his own.

It was Nesta’s car.

And she had driven by more than once to get his attention. Chuckling to himself, Cassian slowly got out of his cruiser and strutted over to her driver’s side window.

He shined his flashlight in her face, careful not to blind her with the harsh light, and smirked broadly as he leaned his elbows against the open window. Her hair was loose in waves down her back—his favorite look on her—, she wore a long coat with a belt tied around her waist and the top two buttons open allowing him a peek of her cleavage when she leaned closer. She also had on bright red lipstick that Cassian couldn’t wait to attempt to ruin; Nesta had long since started buying smudge-proof lipstick, but Cassian always like to test the limits of her makeup.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, waiting for her to explain what she was doing. But she just blinked up at him innocently and smiled with her blood-red lips.

She was up to something, but Cassian thought he was going to enjoy whatever she had planned, so he played along.

“Are you aware that you were speeding, miss?” Cassian asked in his best authoritative voice. He had perfected a lot of voices when it came to Nesta. The soft voice he used when she was reading and he didn’t want to disturb her; the charming, cocky voice he used when flirting with her; the rough, low voice he used whenever he wanted to make her particularly wet; but this one, his ‘cop-voice’ was one she loved to hear when he was in control.

Her smile slowly morphed into a smirk.

“I absolutely was speeding,” she paused and leaned forward, the neck of her jacket opened further and Cassian could see the swells of her breasts as she said in a low voice, “Officer.”

He suppressed a groan. She knew what that did to him. And if the satisfied look in her eyes was any indication, his own had turned dark and hungry at her tone.

If this is how she wanted to play, he would gladly oblige her.

“You were driving real fast. Very dangerous.” Cassian’s eyes remained locked with hers. “I’m not sure if I can let you go with just a warning. You seemed pretty determined to catch my attention.” Cassian’s smirk grew.

“Are you going to write me up? Give me a ticket?” Her gaze dropped to where his notepad was stuffed into his belt and slowly raked her eyes back up to his. “Have I been bad, Officer?”

Fuck. He chuckled wickedly and made a show of looking around the dark, empty road. He hadn’t seen another car pass by for a while and he doubted there would be anyone for a while.

“Nes, sweetheart.” This time, when he leaned down his gaze lingered on her open collar. “I’m not going to give you a ticket.”

Nesta’s smile turned feline, and Cassian felt like he’d walked right into her snare.

“Then I guess,” her voice dropped low and she looked up at him through her eyelashes, “you’ll have to punish me some other way, Officer.”

This time, Cassian didn’t muffle his groan of approval. He pushed himself off the car door and shot her a broad grin before schooling his features into a stern, disapproving mask.

“I’m gonna need you to step out of the car.”

Still smirking, Nesta slowly opened the door. As she brought one leg out and then the other, setting them on the pavement, Cassian noticed that her coat exposed her bare thigh and he wondered what exactly she was wearing underneath. Or not wearing if he knew Nesta—and he prided himself in knowing Nesta.

She stood up and shut the door.

Cassian took a moment to look her up and down. He took in her long tousled hair, red lips, trench coat—he realized now­—and the pair of black patent leather stilettos. He didn’t hide his desire; he knew his face must look ravenous, and he could feel where his pants were stretched tightly, showing her the shape of his hard cock.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

He motioned for her to walk around to the other side of her car. The side farther away from the road and the scarce light.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

She turned, pressing her front into the car’s frame, waiting until the last second to tear her eyes from his. He stepped closer to her until he was almost pressed against her and pulled her hair away from her ear to say, “I need to pat you down. Gotta make sure you don’t have anything dangerous on you.”

She shivered as his breath hit the arch of her ear.

His hands rested on her shoulders before slowly trailing down her arms.

“No knives,” His hands came back up and then tracked down her back, running a finger along the curve of her spine.

“No guns.” His fingers gripped her waist and in a quick motion, pulled her hips flush against his so she could feel exactly how turned on he was by her little game. He felt her ass rub up against his erection and held in a groan.

“No pepper spray.” He used one foot to kick her legs apart. One hand pressed on her upper back, making her lean further into the car. With her ass pushed out and feet spread apart, he gave her round backside a quick slap that caused her to gasp in surprise and gripped her hips to hold her in place.

“Don’t move,” Cassian commanded gruffly and he thought he heard a soft moan escape Nesta’s lips.

He pressed his body into hers, keeping her in place while he moved one hand to her hip as the other snaked its way around to grip her throat. Not too constricting, but just enough that she knew who was in charge

“What was that you said about punishing you?” Cassian’s hand on her hip moved down across her ass and then lower, taunting her with his touch. When she didn’t answer, just let out another low moan, he tightened his grip on her throat and cupped her through her panties.

Or, he would have if she’d been wearing any.

He moaned at the feeling of her warm, slick cunt against his fingers. Nesta’s words were cut off by a strangled gasp.

“Punish me.” She urged and tried to force her hips backward as he slowly moved his fingers along her slit, coating them in her wetness, before moving them up to circle her clit.

He hummed, considering. “You want me to punish you? I know you do, you’re so wet for me already,” he spoke into her ear, reveling in the sounds he was pulling from her.

“More, please,” Nesta gasped as his finger ghosted over her opening. “I’ve been bad, Officer.”

“You have.” He agreed and shoved two fingers into her soaking pussy.

She moaned loudly and splayed her hands across the top of the car trying to get a grip as he thrust into her relentlessly. His hand around her throat moved to reach into her coat and grasp one of her breasts.

Gods, she wasn’t wearing anything under her jacket.

He pulled his fingers all the way out, loving the whimper she made at the loss of sensation, only to add a third and resume his thrusts.

She moaned even louder as the hand at her breast rolled her nipple between his fingers and tweaked it harshly.

“Cass, please.” She begged. He loved it when she begged.

He grunted and pulled his fingers from her. Before she could protest, he spun her around so that her back was leaning against the car and she was staring at him with hooded eyes, breasts heaving as she breathed heavily.

He held her gaze as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked every last drop of her arousal from them.

“Was that my punishment?” Nesta panted, frustrated that he didn’t make her finish.

Cassian stepped up to her and raised a brow.

“If you think that was your punishment, then you’ve got another thing coming, sweetheart.” He winked and leaned down as if to kiss her, but ducked his head at the last second to attach his mouth to her neck, sucking small bruises along her collar bone and throat.

Nesta reached down and untied the belt holding her jacket together. With a few quick movements, she had it open, off her body, and flung to the ground several feet away from them. Now she was leaning against the car wearing nothing but her heels.

“Then finish the job, Officer.”

With a growl, he gripped her face and kissed her fiercely. It wasn’t tender or loving—those kisses were for later. This was hungry, ravenous, filled with uncontrolled desire.

It was teeth and tongues clashing, claiming the other as best they could.

He broke away and smirked again.

“With pleasure.”

Then he dropped to his knees and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. From his position, he noticed the underside of her stilettos was a bright red that matched her lips. He ran his hands up either side of her legs and watched Nesta shudder with anticipation before dipping his head between her thighs.

The sound of her moan and her head falling back to land on the car were almost as delicious as the taste of her on his tongue.

Cassian was relentless. He savored her taste and her moans as he devoured her. He knew exactly what she liked and she was already so close to the edge from the way his fingers had fucked her moments before.

Her moans grew louder and she fisted one hand in his hair, keeping him close. If he could, he would laugh; if she thought he would willingly abandon her soaking pussy right now she was insane. He would finish what he started, and then he’d make her beg for more

His tongue moved from where it was spearing into her to circle and suck her clit. He used two of his fingers to replace where his tongue had been inside her and curled them just right.

“Cassian!” Nesta’s head flew back and she shuddered as release barreled through her. The hands in his hair became almost unbearable tight, but he continued to eat her out slowly as she came down from her high.

When he was sure she’d ridden out the last wave, he stood up and held her gaze as he licked his lips. Her smoldering, lustful gaze heated further and she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him against her. Nesta tasted herself on Cassian’s lips and moaned.

She kissed down his jawline. She was so turned on knowing she was completely naked and he was still fully dressed.

Cassian grabbed her and reached for something on his belt, but she was too distracted to notice what it was. His hands ran down her arms and the next thing she knew, her own hands were behind her back and cold metal encircled them.

She broke the kiss to see his satisfied face. Raising an eyebrow she tested the stretch of the handcuffs he’d put on her.

“These are strong.” She commented on them, smirking, trying to pull her wrists apart.

Cassian flipped them around so he was now against the car. “They’re the real deal, baby.” Then he chuckled and unbuckled his belt.

Nesta watched hungrily as his fingers unbuttoned his pants and Cassian’s hard cock sprung free, desperate for attention.

He stroked himself a few times, loving the way her eyes were glued to his moving hand. “Now be a good girl and get on your knees.”

Nesta kicked off her heels and lowered herself to the ground, all the while looking at Cassian from beneath her eyelashes.

“Now what, Officer?” She goaded him innocently.

“Now show me what that smart mouth of yours can do.” He ran a hand through her hair before fisting it and bringing her face closer to his rock-hard cock. “And maybe it’ll make up for the way you behaved.”

She gave him one last smirk before leaning forwards and taking the tip of him into her mouth. He moaned at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth wrapped around him.

She sucked lightly, swirling her tongue over the slit. Cassian hissed a sharp breath and tightened his grip in her hair. She looked up at him as she started bobbing her head up and down.

“That’s it,” He groaned again as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked deeply. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Then she pushed forward until her nose hit his pelvis and Cassian let out a loud groan.

She pulled away once to take a breath and then he was pushing her back down, using his grip in her hair to move her head up and down. She gagged as the tip of him hit the back of her throat but Cassian kept her head moving.

“Fuck.” He choked out, “ You’re perfect. Your tight little throat takes me so well. Can’t wait to fuck your dripping pussy.” He met her watering eyes and felt the moan she released at his words vibrate around his cock. “Look at you, on your knees, hands cuffed behind your back, ugh, Nes—”

The vibrations of her moans combined and the feeling of his tip brushing the back of her throat sent him over the edge. He went rigged and loosened his grip on her hair as he released down her throat. She took all of him, swallowing every last drop. Nesta leaned back on her heels and slowly released him with an audible pop.

He helped her get to her feet so she wouldn’t lose her balance since her hands were still locked behind her back, and swiped his thumb over her red, swollen lip.

He dragged her towards him for a bruising kiss.

“Gods, I love you.” He groaned against her mouth.

She pulled away to smile, “I love you too. Now take off your shirt.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed but obeyed.

Once his own clothes were on the ground with hers, he opened the door to the back seat of her car and nudged her towards it.

She raised a brow at him and gestured with her still-bound hands. “Are these staying on?”

He stepped into her space and kissed her neck, sucking on the spot between her shoulder and neck that had her whimpering. “Do you want them to stay on?”

Nesta had a hard time responding once he moved to the seat behind her ear. “Yes,” She gasped, her head falling back. “Yes.”

She felt him smirk against her skin.

“Then they stay on,” Cassian commanded roughly.

She sent him another sultry smile. “Whatever you say, Officer.”

Cassian pulled Nesta as close he could get her with her hands cuffed behind her back; her back against his hard chest. One of his large hands wrapped around her throat and the other started rubbing soft circles over her clit. Nesta’s head fell back against his shoulder.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” His voice was rough. “You’ve been driving me crazy with your texts and those fucking pictures. When we get home I want you to show me all those new sets of lingerie.” He nipped at her ear, his fingers moving a little faster. “But maybe you should start with your least favorite because I think I’ll just rip it off you.”

She groaned as he eased one finger inside her. “Oh yeah, you’re ready.”

He removed his finger and bent her over. Her face was pushed into the leather cushion with her knees spread resting on the seat, ass in the air.

Cassian ran a possessive hand over her spine and slapped her ass forcing her to moan into the seat. He stepped up behind her so she could feel his hard length press between her ass cheeks.

“Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.”

And then he pushed into her dripping cunt with one quick thrust. They both moaned loudly as they got used to the feeling. When Nesta moved her hips back trying to gain some friction, he gripped her hips and kept her still.

“Oh, gods, Cassian,” Her moans were muffled by the leather seat.

Chuckling, he started to move. Each thrust brought pleasure surging through him. By the sounds Nesta was making, he knew she was feeling the same.

“Faster.” She demanded. “Harder.”

He grunted and grabbed her hips with both hands, trying his best not to shove her face into the seat but still doing what she asked.

He planted his feet better and then fucked into her with everything he had.

There was a cacophony of sounds; Cassian’s grunts, Nesta’s incomprehensible moans, the wet, vulgar sound of skin on skin, and the rhythmic creaking of the car shaking.

He shifted Nesta’s hip and hit a spot that sent her squealing,

“Yes! Cass, right there!” She screamed and he made sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

Soon enough, he felt her walls clenching around him and he gritted his teeth as she screamed his name as she orgasmed.

Cassian made sure to keep up his pace throughout the entire thing.

When he felt her stop pulsing with the aftershocks, he used an arm to wrap around her middle, pulling her up against him as best he could with her hands still bound. Still inside her, he moved a hand up to fondle her breasts and tweak her nipples, switching between her breasts at random.

His hips sped up, every thrust coaxing a new moan out of Nesta. He wanted to memorize all the sounds she made.

“Please, Cassian.” She gasped, already feeling another orgasm start to build in the pit of her stomach.

Cassian turned her head towards him and planted a surprisingly tender kiss to lips. He felt her smiling and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips, too.

Then the hand at her breasts moved to grip her throat, squeezing tightly until she choked and he lessened his grip a fraction. His other hand, the one wrapped around her waist moved down to rub furiously at her clit. Cassian kept his thrusts hard and fast. Just how she liked it.

Nesta let out a high-pitched squeal at all the sensations. Her mind was fuzzy from the pleasure—every single nerve ending was on fire from Cassian’s touches.

“Come for me, Sweetheart.” He murmured in her ear. That was all she needed, and she exploded. She screamed loudly, head thrown back onto his shoulder giving him perfect access to kiss and suck her neck, and her whole body shook from the reverberations of her release.

The feeling of her pussy clenching like a vice around his cock sent Cassian plowing into his own orgasm and he spilled inside her. She continued to shake as the aftershocks coursed through her body.

Cassian held her against him until they both recovered, hands running soothingly over her body. Then he slowly pulled out of her and she loosed a soft whine.

He chuckled but dug around his discarded pant’s pocket for the key to his handcuffs. He quickly unlocked them and winced at the bright red marks on Nesta’s wrists. She sighed in relief as the metal was removed and gently rubbed her sore wrists.

Instantly, all remaining lust faded away and Cassian was filled with guilt as he gently took Nesta’s wrists in his hands and kissed the tender flesh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Nesta cut him off, “Cassian, it’s okay.” She lifted his chin to meet her hazy, post-orgasm eyes, “I liked it, don’t worry.”

He just stared at her wrists, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the back seat of the car with her. She gently pushed him against the back and laid down next to him, grabbing the spare blanket tucked under the driver’s seat and tossed it over them.

Nesta ran reassuring hands over Cassian’s guilt-ridden face, as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close to him. “Really, Cass. If you ever want to bring those home with you, feel free.”

At his raised brows she added, “The ones we already have don’t feel as authentic.”

He searched her face for any discomfort and finding none, laughed. He pulled her even closer and she sighed contentedly at his warmth as his arms tightened around her body.

“I’ll see what other toys I can bring home, too.”

She kissed his chest and he rested his chin on top of her head.

“Happy Anniversary, Babe,” Nesta whispered, smiling into his skin.

Cassian chuckled into her hair and pulled her tighter against him. “Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.”

*****

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#nessianmonth #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #nessian fic #nessian fanfiction #nessian sex scenes #nessian smut #smut #handcuffs #cop Cassian #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #fanfiction #au

[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader

[undermattsun-archive]

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii​ + @sugardaddykenma​ for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki​ for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on. 

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest. 

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course. 

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost. 

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone. 

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes. 

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward. 

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort. 

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him. 

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck. 

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door.  You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat. 

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him. 

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine. 

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you. 

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit. 

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.” 

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air. 

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you. 

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?” 

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin. 

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you. 

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.” 

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt. 

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.” 

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man. 

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

#miki writes #tw drugs #tw dubcon #tw exhibitionism #tw dubcon exhibitionism #tw noncon exhibitionism #tw noncon #tw degradation #tw humiliation #tw injury #tw blood #thank u for yelling at me pommeth #like forreal #i've been big struggling w writing this #and keeping motivation #skdjfhkj i considered just #dashing this completely #woof #also we as a collective need to wanna fuck taichi more #like forreal he's so fucking pretty #and just #doesn't care about shit #also he's a sexie bartender???? #sir?????? #skate rat hq

[ijustwant2write]

Always Mine-John Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @tommyshhelby​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Can you please do a imagine where y/n and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry esme and even though tommy does feel bad he does it anyway.Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on y/n and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous not sure if it’s a John or Micheal imagine your choice’

Characters: John Shelby x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader (platonic), Michael Gray x Reader (platonic), Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name  (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Heartbreak, swearing, mentions/intentions of sex, arguing, violence, slight fluff

                                          *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Heartbreak, many people went through it, many people wanted to avoid it. Although your heart wasn’t physically damaged, it felt like it was. Humans often forget how strong their emotions are. Emotions are part of our survival, they determine how we live, it controls our day, what decisions we make. Unfortunately to live, we had to experience sadness. You could turn it around and say that the bad times made the good times stronger, more enjoyable. But it’s hard to think positively when you’re stuck in a terrible situation. 

“He....He’s getting married?” I whispered out, clutching onto my dressing gown as the cold air blew into the house.

Tommy was stood outside, I had invited him inside, but I was glad I hadn’t now.“Today/ I’m sorry (Y/N), it has to be done.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“John doesn’t know. And you can’t tell him.”

“Why are you telling me this? I could easily run to him now and tell him.”

“If you do that, you’ll put us all in danger.”

I was growing more angry by the second.“Aren’t you always in danger?”

“This is different. It will benefit the whole family, the Peaky Blinders. He has to do this (Y/N).”

I shook my head at him, crossing my arms over my chest. What with it being so early in the morning, no one else was out in the street, it was slightly dark, with a low fog roaming the streets.“You know I love him. You know how we feel about each other. I’m just confused. Why would you tell me this before they get married? I could go tell him, we could run away together like we said we would since we were fifteen.”

“Because I love you (Y/N). You’re basically family. It felt wrong not to. But I can’t lose you at work either. You need to stay.”

I scoffed.“I can’t believe this! You really think I’m going to stay and see the man I love everyday with a wedding ring on his finger? I can write up my resignation now if you want-”

“(Y/N)-”

“Honestly Tommy, this is taking the piss. You get away with a lot of shit, but this is just fantastic-”

“(Y/N)!”

“Wait here, I’ll get a pen and some paper-”

“(Y/N) would you just listen for a second!?” he yelled, silencing me.“You would be as equally angry with me if I told you after. Just be happy that I mentioned it at all.”

That had been the longest day of my life. Knowing that my worst fear had come true, the man I loved was marrying someone else, made time move at an incredibly slow pace. Part of me pondered crashing the wedding, if I knew where it was or who he was marrying, but I knew that Tommy was partly right. He had a huge responsibility to keep control of his power, but the way he manipulated his family infuriated me. 

“John, are you sure you want to marry me?” I said to him as we laid down in a field.

“You’re really asking that after what we just did?” he asked, doing up his trousers.

“Well, Susanne and Jack do the same as us, and he hasn’t asked her.” my (not so) innocent seventeen year old self pointed out.

“Believe me, I would not be suggesting that sort of thing if I didn’t mean it.”

“So you don’t ask every girl you fuck to marry you?” I teased.

He leaned over me.“I haven’t slept with that many.”

I rolled my eyes.“I don’t care how many girls you fucked before me. As long as I’m the one who gets this sort of treatment for the rest of your life, I’m happy.”

He smirked, kissing me.“You’ve been the best out of all of them.”

“Because I do anything you want.”

He leaned down to my ear, whispering,“Because you feel fucking amazing.”

I blushed, wishing I was able to tease him more.“I’m serious John, that’s a serious commitment.”

Although we were being flirty, I knew when he was being truthful.“(Y/N), I don’t want anything else. I want you beside me. My family loves you, you’re already a Shelby in their eyes, and mine. I know they say we’re young, but these feelings I have for you re strong. I wake up thinking about you, I see other women and think, my (Y/N) is so much prettier than you. And yes, thinking about you writhing and moaning beneath me is pleasurable,” I playfully punched his shoulder, which he laughed at,“but imagining you at home with the kids, waiting for me to come back and embracing me as soon as I step foot in our house, that’s all I could ever ask for in life.”

I sobbed as I thought about that memory. We were so happy back then. We were carefree, easily daydreaming about what could have been. Then harsh reality hit us in the face. He was being forced into an arrangement with some wild gypsy girl. We were supposed to be married, I was the one whose last name should have been Shelby. 

I didn’t want to hear about the wedding day. I knew that Pol, Ada or any other woman in that betting shop wouldn’t mention it in front of me.Though how was I ever to stop thinking about how the man I loved was married to someone else when I worked with him? And his new wife? Esme also had no say in this, she had been unruly and apparently the only way to sort that was to marry her off. But why did she have to work here too? She hated it here, she could never sit still. It was in her nature to be outside all the time, to run free and wildly along with the horses. Not cramped up in a betting shop counting money, surrounded by the lowest of men. Having to sit across from her as I worked was torture, seeing the wedding band made my stomach turn.

"(Y/N)?" John called me, standing in the doorway of his office.

I caught Esme glancing towards me, though I didn't care. It wasn't as if anything was about to happen, John hadn't even spoken to me since they married, not properly anyway. I had been civil towards his wife, but only speaking to her when I absolutely had to. Quietly sighing, I closed the book I had been writing in, picking up a smaller notebook and pen before entering his office. Some workers were peeking at us, they knew the drama, and it didn't help that his office was basically made of windows, meaning everyone could see us.

"You can sit down, you know you can." John gestured to the chair across from his desk, though he didn't sit.

I said nothing back.He groaned.

"Come on (Y/N), you know I hated when you gave me the silent treatment."

"Is there something you needed from me Mr Shelby?"

"You know, that only sounded nice coming from you when we were in a different environment." he smirked, thinking I would break. He was absolutely wrong.

"I have a lot of work to be getting on with-"

"I don't love her."

My eyes widened, and I kept my voice low."For fucks sake John, we shouldn't be talking about this here."

"You know I don't!" he stood in front of me, but I quickly backed away, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves."She's some random gypsy Tommy picked up on the side of the road. Esme isn't you."

"And yet you're stuck with her. So let bygones be bygones. Did you actually need me?"

"I always need you, and I will always want you."

"Right, thank you for wasting my time sir."

I promptly left, feeling my throat get tight as I pushed back my tears. If I spoke another word, my voice would crack, giving away how I truly felt. Instead of returning to where I was originally sat, I headed to the kitchen, not wanting to see Esme. It was obvious her gaze was on me as I brushed past, though I took no notice. Once there, I made myself busy filling the kettle with water and beginning to make tea, just to distract myself. As it boiled, I gripped onto the edge of the counter, painfully holding back my sobs. I couldn’t do this for the rest of my life, it was emotionally exhausting, it was torturous.

“You can’t keep up this act forever.” Polly appeared.

I didn’t bother facing her.“I know. I already told Tom I would hand him my resignation letter, he refused.”

“No, we can’t lose you, even if we had enough staff. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that. You know what Tommy is like with his ‘big ideas’.”

I finally looked at her.“My worst fear came true. He’s with someone else. He’s married, but not to me. It’s been in our heads for so long, it was all too good to be true.”

Before Polly could speak, I saw her glance behind me. Turning around, I saw Esme standing in the doorway, her usual scowl on her face as she grabbed a mug from a cupboard.

“I’m assuming you brewed a full pot?” she asked.

“Yes.” I replied. 

She put her mug beside mine, making sure it thudded against the counter. When she left, I ran my hands down my face, seriously considering walking out. Polly decided to not add anything. We would just go in circles, trying to cheer me up, reassure me, convince me to stay etc.

Managing to get through the rest of the day, I sighed in relief and tiredness as everyone started to pack their things. Putting on my coat, I smiled at one my colleagues who was approaching me.

“John has asked for you.” they warily said.

I rolled my eyes.“Did he say what he wants?”

He shook his head.“Sorry, wants you in there soon as.”

I thanked him as he left, along with everyone else. Esme held back, obviously glaring at me. She disappeared into John’s office for less than a minute before walking out again, leaving without her husband. I watched the door shut, leaving just John and I. My stomach twisted, heart beating incredibly loudly in my ears as I took my first few steps to his office. I stood in the doorway, hating that he was already looking at me, I was incredibly nervous. 

He stood from his chair.“(Y/N)-” 

“Please tell me this is about work.”

“I need to speak to you.”

“John, I can’t do this. We’re finished now-”

I started to walk away, not surprised when he followed, but shocked when he grabbed me, turning me around to face him.

“I know you feel the same as me. I can’t fucking stand it! I don’t want to be married to her. I don’t want to fuck her in our bed. I’ve only ever imagined coming home to see you there, not her!”

“Well that won’t happen now, will it?!” I snapped back, trying to make him let go of my arms.

As I struggled, John was able to keep a grasp on me.“It can! We’ll figure out a way! But I need to kiss you. I need to be able to hold you in my arms, to really feel you. I want to keep planning our future together.”

“Tommy has made his decision, and with this family, anything he says goes! You really think we could change any of this? Even if we did, imagine the trouble you would all be in.”

“I don’t care. I would take ten bullets to the chest if it meant being with you.”

“You can’t be saying things like that.”

His eyes were crazy, staring into my soul, fingers pressing into my skin. I felt him pull me closer, it was ever so slow, and I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. We cautiously leaned in for a kiss, making memories and feelings flood back. His hands relaxed, moving up to cup my face. The passion didn’t last long, because before I knew it, I was being pushed back against a desk, clumsily lying on my back. John wasted no time to touch my breasts, continuing to kiss me as it slid down my body, disappearing up my skirt. Although it was extremely tempting to carry on, the weighing guilt made me stop him.

“John.” I breathed out, giving him the wrong idea as he kept going, sucking on my neck. I pushed against him.“John, stop.”

He pulled away.“What? What’s wrong?” he went straight back down to my neck, trying to unbutton my blouse.

“Stop!” I said a little louder, managing to sit up and push him away.

“(Y/N), I know it’s been a while but-”

“It’s not that, you idiot! You’re married!”

“To a woman I don’t love!” 

I let out a frustrated scream, buttoning up my blouse again as I stood.“I’m not going to be that woman sleeping with married men, I’m not a whore!”

“Why are you denying your feelings? We were supposed to get married.”

“We were kids back then.”

He pointed an accusing finger at me.“I said that to you every year, we were always waiting for the right time!”

“Life doesn’t always work out John!” I yelled.“This is just as agonising to me as it is to you! But if we ruin this, the Lee’s are going to come for you all, and there’s already enough on your plates to deal with them.”

“I don’t give a fuck about them-”

“But I give a fuck about you living!” I snatched up my coat and handbag, pushing past him towards the door. With my hand on the handle, I calmed down before speaking again.“Obviously we weren’t meant to be. Though at least we didn’t take our time together for granted. Don’t try any of that again John, I mean it.”

For the next week, I didn’t utter a word to John, I didn’t even glance in his direction. I considered sending in my resignation. But after thinking about it, I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do it. These people were my family, I grew up  in this business. If I left, I had a slim chance of finding a normal job, because everyone knew who I was associated with. Why would anyone risk taking on someone who was involved with the Peaky Blinders? I was paid more than I should have been for my position, and they trusted me with anything; it would be stupid of me to throw that away and lose everything I worked so hard for. 

Surprisingly, Esme hadn’t piped up towards me in that time. I thought she might say something, even if she wasn’t triggered, due to her fiery personality. However, John had been relentless with his attempts to make me speak to him, even trying to trap me in the vault with him. I couldn’t break, I couldn’t let him get to me again. As much as my heart ached for him, as much as I wanted him to grab my face and kiss me again, I would never break a marriage. The guilt that would live with me fr the rest of my life was too much to bear. 

At the beginning of another day, I had just breezed into the shop when Lizzie approached me.“(Y/N), Tommy wants to see you.”

I sighed.“Did he say why?”

She shook her head.“You know what he’s like. But he’s asking for you now.”

I didn’t bother taking off my coat or setting my bag down, following Lizzie to his office. She knocked before opening the door, letting me walk in before closing it behind me, and I was left with Tommy, who was hunched over his desk as he looked through papers; however, there was also another man, a younger man.

“Come in (Y/N), let me introduce you to someone.” Tommy stood, setting the papers aside.

My steps were slower than they usually would be as I analysed the stranger. He looked younger than me, but not by that many years. His hat was in his hands, and although he wore a suit, it wasn’t like the ones the Shelby boys wore. His hair was slightly curly, not slicked back or short like most men around Small Heath, and he seemed shy, maybe more reclusive.

“I’m Michael.” he offered his hand out which I shook.

“I’m (Y/N).” I politely smiled.

“(Y/N) is basically family and has worked with us from the beginning.” Tommy explained.“This boy here, (Y/N), is Polly’s son.”

My eyes widened at Tommy as I let go of Michael’s hand.“Wait, you mean...the children she was always talking about...?”

“I’ve come back to find out about my real family. And to start working here too.” Michael added.

“So I need you to keep a close eye on him, help him with whatever he needs. (Y/N) knows the ins and outs of this place, she’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

For the rest of the day, Michael shadowed one of the workers that dealt with the winnings, counting money and figuring out how to run the shop floor. I would occasionally pop up when I thought he needed someone kinder and quiet to help, or just to check on him. He was sweet, but that wouldn’t help him in this environment. Luckily, Michael made it hard for John to bother me, he didn’t have the usual opportunities to bombard me with questions about why I didn’t want to fight for what we had. My shift finished quickly, it seemed like I had only been there an hour and we were already leaving.

“Come on Michael, let me take you for a drink. You deserve it after today.” I offered as we walked out of the shop.

He was hesitant before smiling.“Alright then. Where should we go?”

“We’ll go to the Garrison, your cousins are basically royalty there, meaning we are too. And don’t worry about your mum, she would rather you be with me than with the boys.”

Happily greeting Harry as we walked into the pub, he nudged the other bartender to get my usual drink. After asking Michael what he wanted, I called it out to Harry before disappearing into the private room.

“We’re allowed in here?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Like Tommy said, I’m family.” the window opened, a bartender passing us our drinks.“So, how did you end up in a place like this?”

We indulged in a conversation about Michael’s life growing up. It wasn’t a good upbringing, he had been through a lot of hardships as a child, and now being thrown into a completely different life was only adding to the confusion he had growing up, but he wanted to be independent. Get away from the boring country and work in an interesting job. 

Michael glanced down at his drink, seeming hesitant to speak.“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there something between you and John? I thought he was married to Esme.” 

I scoffed.“He is. Seems to keep forgetting that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-”

“It’s fine. You’re family, you should know what’s going on. We...wow, I’ve never actually spoken about this. John and I developed feelings for each other as we grew up, we became a couple. We always said we would get married, anyone could see we were deeply in love. However, Tommy arranged a marriage between John and Esme, it was to form a truce between the Shelby’s and the Lee family, Esme’s family.”

“That’s horrible. Tommy still did that even though he knew you two were together?”

“Yep.” I downed the rest of my drink.“Welcome to the family business.”

“I understand the need for a truce but...”

“I know what you’re thinking. Although it was heartbreaking, I know nothing can be done about it. And I am not a home wrecker!”

He was shocked by my snappy tone.“I-I didn’t say you were.”

“I know, force of habit.”

The door opened, the Shelby brothers walking in, and only three of them smiled at us, it was obvious who didn’t. They greeted us as they sat, the window opening instantly with their drinks on the tray. Michael and I were still tense from our talk, though tried not to show it as Arthur began rambling on about something stupid Finn had done that day. I tried my hardest to listen, though it was hard to when I could feel John’s eyes on me, and he was angry. Everyone else could tell as well, but they didn’t want to deal with John’s attitude right now. After Arthur finished his story, I excused myself to the ladies room, needing to relax. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even go to the loo without any disruption.

“Why the fuck are you here with him?” John demanded to know as he followed me in. 

“John! You can’t be in here!” I snapped.

“There’s no other women here yet! Answer me.”

“He’s a new colleague, someone Tommy told me to look after today. Not to mention he’s your cousin. I was being nice to him.”

“You say you still love me yet here you are with another man.” the rage in his eyes was growing more intense by the second.

“Oh for fucks sake John.” I rolled my eyes.“Why on Earth why I be so stupid to move on with another Shelby?”

“The fuck are you saying?”

“I’ve been battling with myself whether to leave this job because of you! It was terrible enough to be in the same room as you and your wife, but trying to avoid you all day is exhausting. You have to stop trying to make us work.”

His breathing was getting faster, and he hastily grabbed my hands.“But why can’t we just hide it? Maybe after a while I’ll be able to divorce her.”

“I can’t sit around and wait for you! I’ll always love you John, but you can’t expect me to not go on living my life whilst I wait for something that may never happen. And you’re telling me that in that time, you won’t have sex with her, you won’t give her the children she wants? Because I’m not fucking you behind her back.”

He groaned, pulling away from me and turning around, suddenly hitting a stall door, causing me to flinch at the movement and sound. Instinctively, I started backing away, scared that he might flip and accidentally hurt me in his rage.

“It’s not fucking fair!” he yelled.

“John, calm down!” I said, trying not to shout back, needing him to be calm.

“Why was I the one that had to get married?! Why wasn’t it Arthur or even Finn? They know we’re in love! I wanted you to be my fucking wife! And now you’re not even fighting for us!”

I scowled at him, screaming just as loud at him now.“How dare you?! John, there is nothing to fight for anymore! Yes, we still love each other, and I would give anything to be with you again! I would kill for you, you know that. But we need to move on from this. I’m staying at work for now, just until I’ve got enough to move somewhere else, and then I’m gone. I’m not staying where I got my heart broken.”

“You can’t leave.”

“I will. This feels like someone is punishing me for something terrible that I’ve done, but for the life of me I can not think what that could be. I’m done with this John. I don’t want to wake up every morning dreading to go to the shop, being distracted from my work because I’m dreading that you’ll corner me and we’ll get caught doing something we shouldn’t be. I feel like I’ve aged since the day you married, just from the stress.”

“(Y/N), please, just give it more time, we can work something out-”

“No! John just shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying! Leave me alone, leave what we had in the past. You’re married now, and I don’t want to have an affair, not just because of the Lee’s but because of the moral of it all. I...I just need to go home.”

“You’re not leaving-”

He grabbed my arm forcefully, and in defence I slapped him around the face. He recoiled his hand as he went into shock, giving me a chance to escape. However, he kept calling my name as I rushed off, seeing the boys standing at the bar, obviously having heard everything. I pushed past them, bursting into the private room to grab my things before leaving the pub. The others were also telling me to come back, wondering what was wrong.

“Don’t follow me! Leave me alone!” I screeched before turning away from them. 

I felt light headed as I stormed home. There was so much to take in, too much had been said in such a short amount of time. Though I knew I had spoken my truth, even if it was the hardest thing I had ever admitted. John and I couldn’t be. Perhaps it was never meant to happen, and we needed to grow up, move on from our childhood dreams of us being together. I couldn’t dwell on it, I was right when I said I couldn’t put my life on pause to wait for him, which I knew would never happen. Until I knew what I could do to move on and away from everyone, I hoped that our argument had sent a message to John, and I wouldn’t have to suffer as much as I had been. Not for much longer, I am going to be happy.

#john shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby imagines #john shelby one shot #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders bbc #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction

[mint-yooxgi]

Rumours - Yandere!Fuckboi!Lucas X Reader

Yandere AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Masturbation, this one is pretty sexual)

Pairing: Lucas X Reader

Words: 14,505

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Heyyo! After months of nothing I present... something!!! I know it’s not exactly the ficmas I promised, but here’s one of the fics I had planned for it! I’m pretty happy with the way this one turned out, he’s definitely not as intense as some of my other yanderes on my blog, but I like it. This one definitely turned out longer than I expected, so I really hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

There are always three rules he tells them before they fuck.

Number one: no leaving marks on his skin. He hates having to try and cover them up in front of you, or try and explain that they don’t mean anything to him. You never believe him, and the last thing he wants to do is to push you away any further than you already seem. Besides, the only one that he wants to mark his skin like that is you.

Number two: never say his name. It sounds wrong coming off of anyone else’s lips that aren’t yours in these situations. He usually pictures you the whole time anyways, and their voice just takes the fun out of everything. Besides, it only manages to pull him back to the reality that it’s not you with him. Yet.

Number three: do not fake anything. He doesn’t need them to pretend to be enjoying things in order to stroke his ego. No. He wants to know that he’s actually good at what he’s doing. That way he can do, and be, his best when he’s finally able to be with you. Knowing how to properly please someone and recognize their reactions is the first step, otherwise it would become annoying with how many times people would attempt to exaggerate their noises and reactions. He needs to know that when he finally gets to be with you after all of these others, that it will leave you breathless, desperate, and craving his touch.

Currently, he finds himself in one of these situations. One hand tangled in the hair of some girl who’s name he can’t remember as he fucks her from behind. He can feel her meeting his every thrust, and he can hear the whimpers she lets out into the pillow that her face is pressed into. He can tell she’ll never forget this, as he’s been the best fuck she’s had, she told him so herself.

For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to close his eyes. Picturing the same thing he does every time he finds himself in these situations. He envisions that you’re with him right now, and not some random girl he picked up at a party that night. He almost lets a groan slip passed his lips, but he bites them in order to contain it. 

He always makes sure to keep as quiet as he can during these times, as he believes that you’re the only one deserving of hearing his sounds. Occasionally, a few do slip past his lips if he allows himself to fantasize about you for too long, but he’s gotten better at containing them around others for the time being.

With a loud cry of his name, he can feel her coming around him.

Immediately, he’s ripped out of his fantasy with you, stopping any and all of his movements. It’s deadly quiet in the room now, the only sounds coming from their deep breaths.

“What did I tell you?” His is voice low, full of frustration as he gets denied right before his own release.

“Fuck-“ she pants, “I’m sorry, I don’t know wh-“

He cuts her off, “get out.”

“What-“ her eyes widen as she pushes herself up onto her hands, feeling him pull out of her from behind.

“I said, get out!” His brows are furrowed in distaste as his voice echoes around the room.

Hurriedly, she scrambles off of the bed and grabs her clothes. She can tell he’s fuming as he stands there watching her flee after throwing her clothes on, dick still painfully hard and throbbing for release.

Hearing the click of his front door falling shut, he lets out a sigh. Running his fingers through his hair, Lucas tilts his head back and lets out a frustrated ‘fuck’. He was this close to finishing, and she had to go and break one of his rules, and while he was thinking of you, no less.

Stomping through his apartment, he quickly locks the front door, ensuring he has complete privacy, while also making sure that she can’t come storming back in. Not that she would, but he’d rather be safe. He’s had a few others do that even after they’ve broken his rules and he’s kicked them out, and he doesn’t want a repeat of those times.

Making it back to his room, he walks immediately into his adjacent bathroom to have a shower. He wants to wash this girl’s touch off of him, and besides, he does still want to finish.

Turning the water on, he waits for it to heat up slightly, and grabs a small bottle from underneath his sink. Stepping into the shower once the water is a decent temperature, he places the bottle he’s grabbed to the side, letting out another sigh as he allows the water to fall over his back. Running his fingers through his now wet hair, he lets out another sigh.

The first thing he does is grab the bottle he’s brought into the shower with him, opening it and allowing its familiar floral scent to fill his nostrils. It’s the same soap that you use, and he knows it’ll be able to comfort him right now.

He got lucky. One day in class he overheard you talking to your friend, Jordan, about this new soap you got from the store. Ever since, he’s noticed that that’s the scent you use, or at least, that’s what it smells like each time he manages to get close enough to you that he can faintly breath it in. Thus, the next time he went out, he made sure to grab a bottle. This way, he could use the soap for times like these, when he wants to be wrapped in your scent and feel a comfort only you can provide for him. It isn’t much, but it’s something.

How he wishes it could be you instead. You, who managed to captivate him the moment he first laid eyes upon you in first year. He managed to trip over his own two feet, making a fool of himself in front of you. However, instead of laughing like everyone else did, you came over to make sure he was okay. Granted, you did let out a few chuckles when he clumsily introduced himself, but he heard you call him cute, which only caused his ears to turn a vibrant shade of red in embarrassment.

If only Eunji hadn’t chosen that moment to come up to him and ask him about the night they shared over the weekend, and if anything was going to come out of it. He’s pretty sure he looked like a deer in headlights as she stood there looking expectantly at him, you shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly the whole while.

Unfortunately, your friend soon came running up to you to steer you clear of him. Jordan knew all too well about his building reputation around campus, having had another friend who had experienced it themselves. He had to sit through class overhearing Jordan tell you how bad he is, and how he’ll just fuck you and leave you hanging, because that’s what he does. Little did any of you know that he’d come to realize that he’d never do that to you. No, never you.

Since that day, he's tried to get closer to you to ask you out on a proper date, but circumstances never worked out in his favour. You would either be dragged away by Jordan, or whichever friend you’re with, or he would be interrupted again by someone else wanting to be more than just a one night stand to him. The worst few times were when he finally did manage to talk to you without interruption, only for you to point out the hickies that had been left on his neck. That caused him to start the no marking rule shortly after that incident.

Clenching his jaw, he lets the water wash the soap from his skin. This was supposed to be relaxing, but instead, thinking about all of his failed attempts at asking you out is only serving to make him more tense. He needs to distract himself, and fast.

Now, instead of focussing on the negative memories he has with you, he focusses on the positives. Like how just the other day, you met his gaze, only for your eyes to widen with the cutest expression on your face. Or how he overheard your laughter in the food court yesterday, your expression screaming nothing but pure joy. At that, he manages to crack a small smile, his heart warming in his chest at the thought of him being able to make you laugh and smile like that for him someday.

Fuck, how he just wants to kiss you. So badly he wishes you were here with him now, so he could press you up against the wall and make you see stars. He wants to know what your skin feels like beneath his fingertips, what your hands feel like gripping his hair, but especially, he wants to know what his name sounds like as you scream it for all to hear in ecstasy, letting everyone know that you’re his, and that only he can make you feel this good.

His thoughts, along with the smell of you that’s surrounding him during this time is enough to send him over the edge. He comes with a low moan of your name, eyes closed in bliss as he allows himself to indulge in his fantasies. At least he manages to come with a smile on his face, though he would have preferred opening his eyes to see you, instead of the grimy tiles of his shower once more.

Cleaning himself up quickly, he turns off the water. Grabbing a towel, he dries himself off before wrapping it around his waist and heading back out to his room. Checking his phone, he notices that it’s just past three in the morning. 

Letting out another sigh as he pulls on some loose sweats, he hops back into bed. He’ll worry about changing the sheets tomorrow. After all, he does have work later, and he’s already been late the past two times in a row.

Later that day, he groggily makes his way into work. He just manages to make it on time so as not to get reamed out by his manager again, greeting his coworkers with a small wave. Although it isn’t much working at the coffee place on campus, he enjoys it, especially when he gets to work with his best friend, Jongin.

“Late night?” Jongin quirks a knowing eyebrow at Lucas as they both tie their aprons around their waists.

“You know it,” Lucas jokes, smirk evident on his face.

“Damn, another one?” Jongin teases.

“Had to kick her out,” Lucas shrugs.

“You really are heartless, man,” Jongin shakes his head, grin still on his lips as he moves over to take orders.

Lucas says nothing as he moves over to start making drinks for the customers. He notices a few regulars sitting in their usual places inside, and soon he’s busy preparing himself for the rush they usually get just after classes get let out in a few minutes. A few people come in just to see him, and everyone at the café knows it. He has this unique charisma with the clientele, especially the ladies, whom he enjoys casually flirting with. He guesses that’s also what adds on to his reputation, but he just thinks of it as practice for when he gets to finally make you shy from his flirtations towards you. To him, they all mean nothing when compared to you.

Occasionally, during rush, Lucas will loose himself in his work, humming along lowly to whatever song is playing as he calls out name after name. There have been a few times where people will purposely graze his hand as he hands them their drink, but he’s gotten used to it by now that he pays no mind. Again, it means nothing to him, though he wishes people would stop, and notice that he’s not interested.

He’s just finished making two iced caramel macchiatos when he finally takes notice of the name on the cups. Sure enough, looking up, he meets gazes with Jordan, though you’re nowhere in immediate sight. He notices their eyes narrow at him as he hands them the two drinks, thanking him curtly. Normally wherever Jordan is, you’re not far behind.

Eyes follow Jordan out of the café, Lucas now distracted as he attempts to find you. Sure enough, you’re standing just outside the door, waiting for Jordan as they approach you with your drinks. The smile he sees you wear after grabbing your drink makes his heart warm, for there’s a part of him that knows that you smiled because of him. 

A small cry of pain escapes his lips as he drops the cup he’s holding. He clutches his now scalding hand in his free one, gritting his teeth as he moves to pick up the dropped cup. In his dazed state, he managed to pour steamed milk onto his hand, too distracted by watching you just through the window.

“Woah, Lucas, you okay, man?” His one coworker asks him, helping him clean up the mess.

“I’m good,” he gets out, tossing the now ruined drink into the garbage.

His coworker only shoots him another concerned glance before they get back to work, nothing but the faint sting of the burn on his hand serving as a reminder that you were smiling because of him only minutes ago. If only he could see you again, but you’re gone as soon as he looks back over to the spot which you were standing in before he spilt the drink.

The rest of his shift passes by slowly, the fatigue from the previous night catching up to him the more he has to deal with each rush that comes in. All he wants is to see you again, and spend more time with you, but he can’t.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Jordan probably told you to wait outside for them while they got your drinks. Jordan is purposely making you avoid him, so he wouldn’t put it past them to do something like that. If only he would be so lucky as to serve you himself.

His eyes widen slightly as realization crosses his features. He now knows a drink order that you like. In all his months working at the café, you’ve rarely come in while he’s been working, so he’s never been able to flirt with you while making you a drink. Now that he knows you like iced caramel macchiatos, he can bring you some during class. Maybe that will show you how serious he is about you. Either way, he knows that the next time the two of you have class together, he’s bringing you a drink. Maybe he’ll even slip you his number if he gets a chance. Perhaps he’ll even write it on the cup.

A small grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he continues working. This plan is perfect. It most definitely can’t go wrong! He’ll show you, even in the most subtle a way as this, that he can take care of you. He can, and will, always provide for you anything you may ever want or need.

That evening once he gets home, he sets to cleaning his apartment. He’s decided that before anything else, he’s going to make his apartment look and smell nice. Who knows what might happen in the coming weeks, and if by chance you happen upon his home while it’s a mess, he’s be so embarrassed. All he wants to do is impress you, even in the most basic of ways.

He falls asleep that night to fresh sheets on his bad, clutching his pillow tightly to his chest and picturing that it’s you that he’s holding. He indulges in his fantasies as he tends to do with you, and imagines running his fingers through your hair as you fall asleep in his arms. In every sense, he wants you: to love, to cherish, to hold. Nothing could ever change that. He only wishes you were actually here.

Two days later, he prepares himself for what he’s about to do. Taking a deep breath, he clutches the cool drink tighter in his hand, allowing the feeling to ground him as he walks up to where you’re currently sitting before class starts with Jordan beside you.

“Hey, (Y/n),” he greets with a lopsided grin, “how’d you make out with the document analysis that was due yesterday?”

“Not too bad, I think,” you smile politely back at him as Jordan squeezes your thigh lightly underneath the table. “How’d you find it?”

He knows you’re probably just being polite at this point, since a few people have turned to stare, wanting to know if you’re going to fall for his ‘game’ or not. He nearly rolls his eyes at the thought. With you, it’s never a game, and it never would be. Jordan, on the other hand, might beg to differ.

“Glad I just got it done on time,” he shrugs casually. 

Truth be told, he’s actually a fairly decent student, and this is his favourite class for two reasons. One, you’re in it, and he can sit close by to you for two hours every week. Two, he actually likes the material of the course. In fact, it’s one of his highest grades right now.

“Is there something we can help you with, Wong?” Jordan’s voice cuts in before he can get in another word.

“Actually, yeah,” Lucas smirks, eyes shining as he notices Jordan’s eyes shift suspiciously to the drink he’s been holding in his hand. Looking directly into your eyes, his expression softens into a smile, “I got this for you.”

Your own eyes widen as he places the coffee on the table beside your notes. Your heart warms at the gesture, but your words seem stuck in your throat for the time being. However, the longer you go just looking at Lucas with those wide eyes, the less confident he becomes.

Did he do the right thing? What if you don’t actually like this drink? Why do you keep staring at him with those eyes? Fuck, if his heart wasn’t racing before, it sure is hammering away in his chest now.

The whole time, questions race through your head as well. Jordan has told you countless times that he doesn’t care for anyone but himself, refusing to do anything for anyone. Jordan has you convinced that Lucas isn’t the kind of guy to just do something out of the goodness of his heart, for they’re sure he doesn’t have one. However, now, you’re not so sure if everything that Jordan has told you about him is true. Maybe he’s not so bad of a guy after all. Maybe he’s just misunderstood.

“I mean, uh-“ he stammers before your voice pulls him back to earth.

“Thanks, Lucas, that’s really sweet of you,” you smile at him, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt.

His heart skips a beat as he sees that genuine look of happiness on your face, finally directed at him. He feels as if his whole world has stopped, and it’s just the two of you now in the classroom. Nothing could pull him out of this feeling right now, and he can feel a small heat rising up his neck.

“It was nothing,” he tries to play it off cooly, and he just manages not to stutter over his words.

You’re about to say something else, until Jordan beats you to it, and he feels his momentary bliss shattering around him.

“Nice try, dickwad, but it’s not going to work,” they spit, and you watch his expression fall briefly before turning into one of annoyance. “She can’t be bought.”

Before Lucas can retaliate, the professor is walking into the classroom, preparing to begin the lecture. Instead, he ops to shoot a glare at Jordan, letting out an annoyed sigh as he moves to take his seat two rows behind the two of you. He can faintly hear the two of you arguing about him now, and he chooses to tune into that instead of whatever the professor is going to be drawling on about today.

“Jordan, I can’t believe you would say that, he’s just trying to be nice,” you scold, reaching for the drink before they smack your hand away.

“He just wants to get in your pants, (Y/n), and he’ll do whatever he can to seduce you in order to succeed,” they retort.

“I don’t know, this seemed pretty genuine to me,” you mumble as Jordan reaches for the drink instead.

“Think about it, hun,” they continue. “It’s a little creepy how not even two days ago I got us this exact drink at the school café, of which he was working at, and now he shows up to our only shared class with the same drink. Is that not suspicious to you?”

“Why can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt,” you sigh. “Maybe he’s just trying to impress me?”

He smirks at this. You couldn’t have been more accurate if you tried.

“Well, if so, then do you think he remembered to use lactose free milk?” They counter. “If he cares that much, he should have remembered that one of the drinks was made with lactose free milk, considering he made them. It would have been a fifty-fifty chance on who would have needed that, so to be safe, if he was observant, he should have gotten it for you with that in mind.”

His expression falls. He didn’t even think of that. He was so out of it that day that he doesn’t even remember which milk he used for each. Lucas was too caught up in the thought of seeing you, and then actually catching you smiling, that he forgot all about that. Clenching his jaw, he curses himself.

“If he didn’t, it’s an honest mistake,” you say.

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on defending him, he’s not a good guy, (Y/n),” Jordan shakes their head as you frown slightly.

“I still feel bad,” you whisper. “He did get me a drink, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Just as you’re about to reach for it again, they smack your hand once more, “oh, no you don’t. You’ll literally die if you drink that.”

“Well, I don’t want it to go to waste,” you reiterate, frown more prominent now.

“Fine,” they sigh. “I’ll drink it then.”

“Okay,” you nod slowly, a small frown on your face as you watch as Jordan slides the cup closer to themselves.

The whole time, Lucas is fuming. Not only is he mad at himself for not remembering something as significant as making your drink properly, but he’s furious that your drink is now being consumed by Jordan. Though, he’s more upset around the circumstances that led to this, than you not actually drinking the coffee. The last thing he wants to do is be the reason for your discomfort in any situation.

He’s also upset about the fact that Jordan only seems to be pushing you away from him. From the sounds of things, you do want to give him a chance, and fuck, if the way you looked at him earlier was any indication how you felt towards him, he’d be right there to sweep you off of your feet in an instance. Maybe him and all his subtleties towards you are actually working. No matter, the next time he’ll just have to make sure to get your drink right, and make sure Jordan isn’t around to ruin things for him.

Except, he’s not expecting the rumour that arises within the next week, and once he hears Jongin telling him about it at work one day, he nearly drops his phone in the break room.

“What?” His voice comes out rushed, eyes wide as his lips part slightly in shock.

“Yeah! Apparently what’s been going around campus is that you’re trying to get in Jordan’s pants,” Jongin reiterates.

“How the fuck?” He trails off.

“I don’t know man, but rumour has it you bought them coffee last week,” Jongin shrugs.

“I didn’t buy them coffee,” he mutters, only causing Jongin to quirk a brow.

“Word on campus is that Jordan came in to the café last week, you stared at them the whole time while they left, longingly, apparently,” Jongin goes on to say, “and then showed up to your class two days later with that same drink they ordered for themselves.”

“Fuck me,” Lucas sighs. “The drink wasn’t meant for them, it was for (Y/n).”

Jongin frowns slightly until realization flashes in his eyes, “you mean that girl you’ve had a thing for since first year?”

A small nod is all the confirmation he gives.

“Welp,” Jongin stands up, clapping Lucas on the shoulder as he passes, “good luck, dude.”

Another sigh escapes Lucas’ lips as Jongin exits the break room. He’s not sure how exactly this rumour could have started, or who started it for this matter. However, it’s only going to serve as another obstacle for him to be with you. Hopefully, it doesn’t put too much of a damper on his plans.

Easier said than done.

The next two weeks is spent being conscious of his every move. He notices the way some people have been watching him around campus, especially when Jordan is around. It’s usually old flings of his, jealous that they mean nothing more to him than a one night stand. They’ll never mean anything more than a one night stand, either. During those times, he makes sure to never look their way. Only when you’re around does he dare a glance in their direction, but even then, he doesn’t hide the fact that it’s you that he’s looking at. 

Part of him hopes a new rumour will spread that it’s actually you he’s interested in. At least then there’d be some truth to it, and he would be able to use it to his advantage. He can’t count the number of times he’s pictured you confronting him about his feelings in some secluded space, only for him to confess and the two of you end up kissing in the heat of the moment. His mind always wanders further, imagining pressing you up against the wall and taking you right then and there. He wants you, badly, and he’d be more than happily claim you as his own whenever, or wherever you wanted him to.

Resting his head in his hand, he zones out to the lecture. His gaze remains transfixed on your back as his mind plays one of these scenarios in his head. Oh, how you’d grip his hair and call out his name as he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. How he’d claim your lips, over and over again, amongst other, more intimate parts of your body.

He licks his lips, getting lost in his haze of desire for you, and what could be. So much so, that when he shifts slightly in his seat, he can feel his semi-erect cock pressing against the material of his jeans. Letting out a low breath, he attempts to calm himself down. Thank goodness the break is starting now, so he can focus on fixing his problem, and not sit through the rest of class with a hard-on. The last thing he needs, or wants for that matter, is for someone to notice.

Rubbing at his face with his hands, he lets out a deep sigh. Shifting in his seat, he angles himself in a way that no one would be able to see what’s happening to him. Thank fuck he decided to sit beside the wall today. Not to mention he’s got the perfect angle of you, two rows down, as usual.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears you let out a small squeal, successfully drawing the attention of those around you as well.

“Oh my god, Jordan, look,” you grin, smacking their arm lightly repeatedly.

“What is it? Geez,” they rub at the side of their head, “you’re gonna blow my brains out.”

“Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, before the grin is back on your face, “but look! Ten has silver hair this comeback!”

“Yeah, so?” They yawn, clearly disinterested in your rambling.

“So?” You scoff. “You know I have a thing for silver hair, it just looks so sexy. Especially on him.”

Jordan just chuckles in amusement, “I know, boo, I was just teasing you. I know you love light coloured hairstyles.”

“I do indeed,” you nod once, and that’s all the confirmation Lucas needs to start looking at hairdressers in the area to get his hair dyed.

He’s never given much thought to the colour of his hair before, always sticking with his natural hue over anything he might deem too risqué. However, he’d more than willingly make an exception just for you. If this means you seeing him in a more desirable light, he’ll do it in a heart beat. Besides, a change might do him some good.

Now, to look up this ‘Ten’ guy who has you practically drooling at your computer screen. 

A quick search of this guy’s name pulls up quite a few pictures that have a frown pulling at Lucas’ features. What does this guy have that he doesn’t? Well, except for the fact that he’s an idol, and apparently has silver hair now.

The rest of class is spent with Lucas pouting slightly while looking up facts about this Ten guy that you apparently like so much. Maybe he can alter himself to be more desirable to you through some of this guy’s behaviours. First things first, he’ll start with his hair and see how it goes from there.

He can hardly believe he’s getting jealous over some idol whom you don’t even know. Lucas knows he has more of a chance with you than this Ten guy, but he can’t help but worry. What if his plan doesn’t work, and the two of you don’t actually end up together.

Immediately, he shakes his head to clear his thought. No. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of you not ending up with him. He can’t see himself being happier with anyone else other than you, and he knows he can make you so happy, if you’d just let him. He’d do anything for you. Absolutely anything.

All too soon, class in ending, and he’s watching as you pack up your things before heading out of the classroom with Jordan in tow, the two of you still talking about this upcoming comeback. He makes sure to keep his distance while trailing behind the two of you, making sure he looks inconspicuous as he heads to his next class. He wants to hear as much as he can before leaving you for today, wanting to get a better gage on your interest in this Ten guy.

A sour expression resides on his face for the rest of the day. He doesn’t like the fact that this idol is getting all of you attention, and not him. Why can’t you ever focus on him?

Oh, that’s right. Jordan.

If it weren’t for that friend of yours, the two of you could have already been in a happy relationship. He huffs, now heading to the parking lot to head home after sitting through his last class of the day. Once he makes it to his car, he hops in and starts the engine, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. In a few day’s time, he has his hair appointment, and hopefully by then, he’ll have thought of a way to get Jordan out of your life so that he can finally have you all to himself.

The rest of the week passes by fairly normally for him, and he’s happy with the way his hair has turned out. He got it cut, too, and it feels even softer to the touch. At least, that’s what his fling from last night told him.

The stress of the week caught up to him, and he had to relieve it somehow, so he felt it best to take out his frustrations on someone else. Needless to say, he was the best they’ve ever had, and they didn’t break any of his rules. He doesn’t think he’s ever went as hard as he did last night, picturing you the whole time. He couldn’t help himself, letting the events of the week affect him more than he wanted.

Again, he ended up kicking the girl out of his apartment before she could stay the night. Usually, he won’t let them, since he doesn’t want to deal with them when he wakes up. This gives him more time to think about you, and picture you wrapped in his arms instead of someone else who might want to talk about their feelings for him or some other shit like that. That’s a huge no for him. Again, unless it was actually you.

Making it into work the next day, he sighs. Saturdays on campus can usually be pretty slow, so he’s not looking forward to working all that much. In fact, the day ends up being so slow that a few people get sent home early, but unfortunately for him, he’s stuck here until close. Even Jongin heads out early, leaving Lucas to work with two of his other coworkers he doesn’t really talk to. At least he can hang out in the break room if it gets too slow.

About an hour before close, he’s stuck behind the counter by himself for a bit while his one coworker takes out the trash and the other is on their break. He knows he can call them out if he needs them, but he doubts they’ll get a rush this late in the evening.

A small sigh escapes his lips as he hears the door to the café swing open. His back is turned to the register as he finishes grabbing down a bag of coffee beans to refill the pot for the morning. As soon as he’s closed the cupboard and turned back around, he nearly drops the bag of coffee beans in his hands.

There you stand, in one of your oversized hoodies, with a friendly smile on your face. Most importantly, you’re alone.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, him blinking a few times in disbelief and managing to get out a measly little ‘hey’. Of which, he curses himself immediately afterwards. Is that really all he can get out when he’s finally alone in front of you?

“Hey there,” you giggle, and he swears it’s the cutest damn sound he’s ever heard, “you’ve changed your hair.”

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, nervous all of a sudden about what you think about it.

“I like it,” you smile softly. “Looks nice.”

He freezes for a moment, nearly forgetting how to breathe as he stares at you. Changing his hair was a success after all, and he loves knowing that you like what he did for you.

“Thanks,” he smiles back, before clearing his throat, and putting the bag down on the counter. “What can I get for you?”

You start telling him your order, but he’s already started punching it in. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by you, especially since he undercharges you for the change in milk. Again, no matter how subtle, he wants you to know that he’s always looking out for you, and will provide for you whenever and wherever he can.

After you pay, you move over to the end counter where you wait for your drink to be made. He takes this opportunity to talk to you, considering it’s just you and him right now, and he doesn’t know when he’ll ever get another opportunity like this again.

“So, how’ve you been?” He asks casually as he starts preparing your drink.

“Not too bad, midterms are kicking my ass, though,” you reply, tucking your phone into your pocket. “I’m definitely way too stressed for anything right now.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “I feel like we’ve just started and we’re already halfway through the semester.”

“Right?” You voice, incredulously. “I feel like I hardly have time to relax anymore, and with our midterm that’s worth forty percent on Tuesday, I’m kinda freaking out.”

“I feel you,” he nods in agreement, now just waiting for the shot to brew to add to your drink. He has to stop himself from biting his lip. He knows a few ways to help you relax, but he doubts you’d let him try anything. Yet. “I’m sure you’ll do fine though, you’re really smart.”

You laugh slightly, “my intelligence is an illusion that hangs by a thin string attached to late night study session, and fuelled by coffee.”

He laughs at this, pouring the freshly brewed shot into the cup, “I take it that’s why you’re here so late on campus on a Saturday night?”

“Guilty,” you joke, reaching out to grab your now finished drink. “What about you? I didn’t take you for one to be working on a Saturday, let alone in the evening.”

Ever so slowly, he watches your fingers gently brush over the skin of his own, and he swears it’s like a jolt of electricity goes through him. Your touch is addictive, and now that he’s had a taste, he’s not sure if he could ever get enough.

He chuckles, “to be honest I enjoy spending most evenings in rather than going out.”

“I see,” you nod slightly with a small hum.

Sure that may have been a little white lie, but you don’t need to know. Besides, if he’s going to counter that image of him you have because of Jordan, he’ll do anything he has to to make you believe he’s actually good for you like he knows he is.

“Well, don’t wear yourself out,” he shoots you a smile, doing his best to contain the bliss filled look that wants to spread itself across his features at this interaction you’ve have together.

“Same goes for you,” you lift your drink in a mock ‘cheers’ motion. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t,” he promises, smiling at the way you swirl your drink slightly to mix it before taking a sip. “You like it?”

“This is amazing,” you hum, “just what I needed.”

“Glad to be of service,” he grins, giving you a small salute with two of his fingers, causing you to giggle again. God, he could never grow tired of that sound. “So, do you have any plans for the evening?”

By now, he’s leaning against the counter, for you have yet to move and he wants to be as close as possible to you for as long as he possibly can, without being obvious of course. Besides, he’s enjoying talking with you, and he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

“Well, that chair over there,” you motion to a chair in the corner of the café, “is calling my name for the next,” you hum, checking your phone for the time, “forty minutes or so until you guys close, so…”

A small smile rests on his lips as he nods in understanding, “if you need anything, just call me over. I’d be happy to make you another one.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you tell him, smile back on your lips as you move over to the aforementioned chair.

Lucas watches as you place your drink onto the small table that rests in front of the chair, taking off your hoodie before sitting down and pulling out a book to read. He smiles to himself as he moves back over to the forgotten bag of coffee beans to continue where he left off. 

Knowing you’re mere feet away from him makes him so unbelievably happy. He has to keep glancing up to check if you’re still there, and not some figment of his imagination. Even his coworkers have noticed a slight shift in his attitude when they both get back onto the floor, noting he looks more awake than before. He certainly seems happier, that’s for sure.

All too soon, it’s closing time, and he’s just finishing up wiping down the counters when his one coworker goes to let you know. Lucas bites his lip, noting that you appear to be dozing off in the chair anyways. His heart races in his chest, and holy fuck, could you get any cuter? He only wishes he could have been the one to walk you out of the café.

Some part of his brain wishes and hopes that by some miracle, you decided to wait for him to finish closing so he can walk with you to the bus stop. If he’s lucky, he could even offer to drive you home, one hand resting teasingly on your thigh while the other grips the steering wheel.

“Oh, it looks like she left her sweater here,” the voice of his coworker pulls him out of his thoughts.

He watches as his coworker quickly pops their head out of the door, seeing if they can spot you in the distance, but it looks like you’ve already left.

“Damn, that sucks,” they say, turning to look at Lucas. “You know her, right? Why don’t you give her back her hoodie the next time you see her in class or something?”

Without waiting for a response, his coworker throws him your hoodie, and fuck, does it ever smell like you. Clutching it to his chest, he nods slowly, the words finally registering in his brain.

His eyes widen slightly at what this means. He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t give you back your hoodie while in class, there’s way too many watchful eyes around. People might get the wrong idea. On the other hand, he has seen you wear this hoodie around a lot, meaning it’s probably important to you, so if he shows up with it, you might think of him as your Prince Charming coming to your rescues. On the other other hand, he now has a piece of you with him, no matter how insignificant it may be. One that he can keep all to himself.

No, he shouldn’t be thinking like this. If he wants to make you see him in a good light, the right thing to do would be give you back your hoodie as soon as possible. Setting his mind, he determines that he’ll give it back to you when he sees you on Tuesday for class. The sooner the better, and hey, maybe Jordan might stop insisting he’s a horrible person if he does this. 

Soon enough, he finishes closing up shop with his coworkers for the evening and heads back home. Stepping through his door, he lets out a sigh. After clicking the locks into place, he’s kicking off his shoes and heading straight to his bedroom. He tosses your hoodie on his bed, figuring he’ll put it aside once he’s had a quick shower for the evening.

Once again, he finds himself using the same soap you use. Considering the evening he’s had, he thinks it fitting that he smell like you. He wishes nothing more than for you to be waiting for him in his bedroom in nothing but that hoodie when he comes out of the shower, but he knows that’s a fantasy too far away to even hope for at the moment. Still, his mind cannot help but wander to that vivid image as he dries himself off.

Shaking his head, he slips on some sweats, entering back into his room to see your hoodie exactly where he left it on his bed. He licks his lips, imagining your bare legs peaking out from beneath the hem, spread out on his bed and just begging for him to be between them.

This time, he blinks to clear the vision of you from his mind. Grabbing your hoodie, he tosses it to the side of his room where his desk chair sits, hearing it make contact and seeing it hanging off the edge in the next second. Turning off the lights, he hops into bed.

Turning on his phone, he decides to scroll through instagram to see if there’s been anything important he’s missed. His heart nearly skips a beat when he comes across a newly posted photo of yours, showing off your drink from that evening along with the book you were reading. The caption reads, ‘howdy stranger’ with a little heart attached at the end, and he can’t help but read more into this than you probably intended.

To anyone else, that caption might be referring to the book, of which you may not have read in a while, or even the drink. However, to him, it’s reminiscent of your conversation, and how the two of you might still be considered strangers to some. It’s a flirtatious callback to how you two know each other, but rarely talk. Tonight was that exception, where the two of you actually had a somewhat decent conversation without anyone interrupting or pulling you away from him. The fact that you included the drink he made for you in the photo only confirms that this post was about him, and him alone.

He bites his lip, immediately liking the photo to let you know that he’s seen it; he’s gotten your message and he’s more than willing to let you know that if you only say the word, the two of you wouldn’t have to be strangers for much longer. Briefly, his eyes dart to your sweater, of which he can fairly make out the outline of hanging off of his chair where he tossed it.

Lucas decides to scroll through the rest of your instagram, just lurking on your page so he can see you in every and any photo you have of yourself. He makes the executive decision to turn on your post notifications in that moment, not wanting to miss any more of your posts, especially when they’re about him.

He freezes. Maybe he should do this for all of your social media accounts he follows. The last thing he wants to do is miss a post that could be an indicator of your true feelings towards him. What if all this time you’ve been in love with him, too, and your only way of communicating this to him is through your posts?

Grabbing his one pillow, he shifts so that it’s now clutched in his arms, him squeezing it as a rush travels through his body. What if that’s it? Maybe, there’s a small chance that you feel the same, and all of his past things never meant anything to you, and you just act the way you do cause Jordan is always with you, watching your every move around him. Of course, you’d want him, how could you not?

Smiling to himself at this new revelation, his eyes flick over to your hoodie once more. He can practically hear it calling his name, for him to hold as if it were your own body. Without waiting another moment, he gets up, snatching the item of clothing from his chair before laying back down, arms now wrapped securely around the hoodie instead of his pillow.

Burying his nose into the fabric, he takes a deep breath. Fuck, it smells so good. You smell so good, that his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head from this alone. The added scent from the soap he’s used just makes this all the more intense, and he really feels like you could be there with him.

Except, something’s still missing. Even as he continues to cradle your hoodie in his arms, it doesn’t seem quite right. That is, until his cheeks are flaring at the solution he comes up with.

Without thinking too much of it, or before he can change his mind, he’s sitting up quickly, and grabbing his previously discarded pillow. Moving the hoodie slightly, he puts it on the pillow, having it act as your torso for the time being. There, at least now there’s something more substantial to hold onto.

A smile tugs at his features as he clutches the pillow, which is now wearing your hoodie, to his chest. He can feel his naked torso burning wherever his skin makes contact with the fabric, imagining it’s really your touch there. He’s even gone so far as to toss the one sleeve over his side to act as your arm, as if you were really there holding him just as he is holding you.

Burying his face into the side of the shoulder, he takes another deep breath, grip tightening around your ‘torso’ as he lets out a low groan. His fingers fist the back of your hoodie, whole body curling around the pillow as he clings to it for dear life. Why can’t you just be here with him, right here, right now?

Would you run your fingers through his hair just like how he so badly wants to do to you? Would you teasingly litter kisses along his bare chest and neck, only to pull away and giggle at the reactions he gives you? Would you pull him closer as he cups your face and kisses you with all the passion he can muster, letting you know how much he loves and cherishes you? He bets his name would sound even sweeter than he could ever imagine falling from your lips, especially as he trails kisses down your own torso, leaving marks all the way so everyone can know that you’re his.

He bites his lip as he feels his cock throb in his pants, pure desire for you coursing through his veins as he lets his imagination run wild, and now that he has your sweater to hold onto, it’s like you’re really there with him.

Before he knows it, he finds himself grinding into the pillow, imagining it’s you, and that you’re grinding right back, desperate for his touch. Fuck, the way you would mewl with his hands all over your body, head thrown back as he gives you uninterrupted pleasure in every way he knows how.

Thoughts continue running through his head as he brings his one hand down to stroke himself over his sweats. Are you actually more on the quiet side? Are you more shy when you’re in bed? Would he be able to fluster you like he knows you could fluster him? Would you be loud for him if he asked?

A small huff of air escapes him as he turns on his back, finally sticking his hand down his pants to grasp his firm cock, stroking lightly all the while picturing it’s you doing this to him. No matter, he’d make you loud for him. He’d make sure you’ll scream from the pleasure he’s giving you. After all, his job wouldn’t be done until the only thing you remember is his name.

Licking his lips, he gently teases the head of his cock, spreading his precome with his thumb as his hand continues to stroke the rest of him, alternating his grip all the while. Throwing his head back, he lets out a low moan, followed by a curse. Your name sounds like heaven falling from his lips, and he only wishes you were around to hear just how good the mere thought of you is making him feel.

Closing his eyes, he lets images of you sucking him off fill his head. The way your lips would wrap around his cock, taking all of him into your mouth as he encourages you and holds your hair in his hand, ever so subtly guiding your movements. Fuck, the way you would hum around him, wanting to make him feel as good as he makes you feel.

He builds himself up slowly, wanting to take his time tonight and just live in his fantasies. Being able to hold your sweater in his hands is just the icing on top, letting him feel like it’s actually you there with him. After edging himself three times, he decides it’s finally time for him to come, and he knows exactly how he wants to do so.

Kicking off his pants, he shifts his body so that his pillow with your sweater on it is beneath his chest. He licks his lips, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed, allowing your image and your scent to fill his mind. One arm is wrapped around the torso of the sweater while he begins to fuck his opposite hand, starting slowly, just like how he would with you once he’s finally inside you.

For your first time together, he’d take it slow, making love to your gorgeous body all night long. He wants you to know that you’re more than just a fuck, and that he would never even think about doing something as intimate as this with another. Only you get this type of intimacy. Only you get the whispers of ‘I love you’ and the breathless moans of your name from his lips. Only you get all of him: mind, body, and soul.

Holding the pillow tighter, he begins to pick up his pace, rolling his hips into his hand as he pictures your legs wrapped around his waist. Every second that passes brings him closer to the edge, and he can feel his hips stuttering as his orgasm approaches. 

Sitting back on his knees, he releases the pillow, stroking himself intensely all the while. With a low moan, he’s coming, your name falling from his lips like a mantra as he releases all over your sweater, claiming it as his own, just as he so badly wants to claim you.

For a whole minute, he just kneels there, eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy. He bites his lip, bringing his free hand up to brush his hair out of his face. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see the mess he’s made of your sweater.

Cursing lowly to himself, his eyes go wide. Well, now there’s no way he’s going to give you back your sweater with it looking like this. He’ll have to wash it before giving it back, if he even decides to do that. Now that he knows what he can do with it, it’s like having his very own body pillow of you, and he doesn’t want to give that up so easily.

Moving off his bed, he cleans up quickly before sliding on a fresh pair of sweats. Once he’s finished, he slides back into bed, scrolling through his phone with his arm around the sweater, the pillow tucked to his chest. He has to find a way to be with you soon, and maybe next time, he’ll make this dream of his a reality.

That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face, head filled with images of you and what he dreams your future relationship to be like once you’re together. He cannot wait for the day he can finally call you his in front of the whole world, and hopefully it’s soon; he just wants you so badly.

Midterms come and go in the blink of an eye, and before anyone knows it, the professor is assigning the final project. Lucas lets out a small sigh as the prof drawls on about the details during class, gaze zoned in on you once more until a certain phrase catches his ear.

“You’ll be working in partners-“ a chatter breaks out around the lecture hall before the prof grabs everyone’s attention once more. “As I was saying, you’ll be working in partners for the final assignment, but no you will not be working with a partner you choose. You will be receiving an email by the end of the day with your partner’s details for the upcoming project. I expect everyone to work diligently and thoroughly. Class dismissed.”

With that there’s an explosion of chatter and movement throughout as people begin to gather their things to leave the room. Lucas’ heart pounds in his chest the whole while, and he knows he won’t be so lucky as to get you, but he can only hope that’s the case. He just hopes that whoever he gets stuck with isn’t one of his past flings. That would be awkward as hell.

Again, he sticks close by you as you exit the hall with Jordan, discussing the possibilities of the project. He busies himself with checking his phone to make himself look occupied and not like he’s eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Who do you hope you get to work with?” Jordan asks you.

“I’m not sure, I know I probably won’t be as lucky as to get to work with you, but I hope there’s still a chance!” You reply, lip tugging upwards. “If not, the only other person I really know in the class is Lucas, so I guess he wouldn’t be so bad.”

His heart nearly stops when he hears you say those words. Maybe there’s a possibility that you really want to work with him, too.

“Ew, why do you want to work with that fuckwad?” Jordan scrunches their face in disgust.

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” you frown slightly. “Besides, I think he does well in this class, whenever I see him he’s always intently looking at his computer, taking notes.”

You’ve looked for him while in class before? His heart skips a beat. How has he never noticed?

“(Y/n), how many times have I told you to stay away from him? He’s bad news,” Jordan sighs.

“I know, Jor, I know,” you echo their sigh. “I just, don’t see what you mean. He’s only ever been nothing but decent to me.”

“Have you ever thought that there was a reason for that?” They quirk a brow.

Yeah, he’s in love with you, and he’d shout it from the rooftops if he ever got the opportunity.

“Well, regardless, he hasn’t given me a reason to be suspicious of him,” you retort.

“(Y/n), he literally has, or well, had, a Hitlist for this school. Almost every girl, and some guys have slept with him,” they tell you.

“Who he sleeps with, or has slept with is none of my business,” you glance at them out of the corner of your eyes. “I don’t care, and neither should you.”

“Listen, I really don’t care for him, or how many people he sleeps with,” they begin, “it’s the way he goes about it and treats them afterwards that has me peeved.”

“Again, that’s his business,” you say, and in the next moment a teasing smirk crosses your features. “Besides, sounds to me that someone is a bit jealous that they’re not one of his ‘hits’ as you’ve so put it.”

At this, they splutter, “what! That’s insane, I do not even like him!”

“Well, rumour has it that he likes you,” you continue with your teasing, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at them.

“Rumours are just rumours,” they counter with a grumble, and you hum.

“Fair enough-“ 

That’s all he can hear until the two of you are too far away from him to comprehend what you’re saying. Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he leans against the wall. The biggest thing he takes away from this conversation is that you would, in fact, enjoy being his partner for this project, and he’ll make that happen no matter what. It’s a good thing your professor has office hours immediately after class, and it’s a good thing that Lucas just so happens to be his favourite student in that class.

Four hours later and he’s pacing in his room, just waiting for his phone to ping with the email notification. It’s already ten minutes passed when the professor told him that he’d have all the emails sent out by in order to contact the project members. What if the prof went back on his word?

A ping is what pulls Lucas out of his thoughts, him literally jumping onto his bed to grab his phone as he sees the email notification pop up with the subject discussing the partners for the project. His heart pounds as he opens the email, seeing that the prof came through and indeed put the two of you together like he asked. Who knew pleading his case to really support his ‘friend’ would have worked as well as it did.

All he’s gotten is your school email address, and he wants to send you an email to discuss the project right away, but he also doesn’t want to seem too eager. Should he wait for you to respond first? Maybe he should just take the initiative and send you his number so you two can start talking right away. However, before he can even open up a new draft, his inbox pings once more with a new email.

From: (Y/n)

Subject: Project

Hey Lucas!

I’m so glad to be partnered with you, it’s nice to be able to work with someone I know. Anyways, here’s my number, text me anytime and we can discuss the project in detail, I’m more active through text than email. I look forward to working with you!

(Xxx)-xxx-xxxx

(Y/n) :)

His head is reeling, and he has to read over your email several times to make sure that it’s real. You’re glad to be his partner. He can’t help his heart from racing the way it does as he saves your contact information, opening a new message thread and preparing to text you. 

Staring at the blinking cursor in the message bar, he freezes. What should he say? Probably something simple, he doesn’t want to make himself sound too eager. Plus, he wants you to think he’s cool, but also smart, but also available, but not desperate. God, what should he say?

After contemplating for a good five minutes, he settles on, “Hey (Y/n), it’s Lucas. I look forward to working with you, too :)”.

Surprisingly, you get back to him pretty quickly, and the two of you start talking about the project and some ideas you’ve had so far. Before you know it, the two of you are having a pretty decent conversation about your likes and dislikes, things along those lines. 

Lucas could not be happier than he is in this moment. He’s even brought your sweater back out for this occasion, holding it close to his chest as he reads over your entire conversation. You went to sleep a little while ago since it did end up getting quite late, but he can’t believe this has happened. Everything is falling into place, and soon, he’ll be able to make his move.

The next day, he has the closing shift at work with one of his co-workers that he closed with on Saturday. Again, it’s about an hour before close, and quiet, so he sets to cleaning the machines.

“Did you manage to give your friend back her sweater?” The question catches him off guard, causing him to freeze slightly before continuing to wipe down the machines. Maybe this question is a blessing in disguise, for he can put his plan that he’s been thinking about into motion finally.

“No, actually,” he turns to meet his co-worker’s eyes. “I ran into her friend Jordan and gave it to them to give to her.”

“Ah, I see,” they nod, going over to grab more cups from the backroom. Once they come back out, they turn to Lucas once more, “do you mind taking out the trash?”

“Sure,” he nods. He’s got nothing better to do anyways.

It takes him about ten minutes to run the garbage, and an extra five to dismiss an old fling of his who had spotted him walking back to the café. By the time he gets back, he’s slightly tense from the whole ordeal, and he can’t wait to get home so he can ask you about your day. He’s made it his goal to at least message you one small thing per day that he thinks will make you smile. He wants to show you that he cares, and that he’ll always be there for you, whenever you need him.

“Oh, hey, you just missed your friend,” his co-worker tells him once he gets back behind the counter. “She came by asking about her sweater and also asked about you. I told her you gave it to that other friend of hers.”

“Oh,” his eyes widen ever so slightly, nodding in understanding.

Besides being upset at the fact that he missed you stopping by, the fact that you asked about him sets his heart soaring. This is good! This is indeed very good for him. This means you’re thinking about him, even when he’s not around, something he could have only hoped for.

That night, he sends you a text when he gets home, heart beating nervously as he waits for your response. Once he hears that familiar ping, he’s smiling to himself, happy at how quickly you respond to him. You don’t keep him waiting long, just as he would never intentionally do so to you.

Lucas: Hey, heard I just missed you at the café this evening.

You: Yeah! I just wanted to pop in and say hi, and also ask about my sweater. I seemed to have misplaced it, and when I went to check the lost and found on campus they said they hadn’t had anyone drop it off so I’ve been retracing my steps lol

Lucas: Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed you, I could have told you that I gave it to Jordan for safe keeping

You: Yeah, that’s what your coworker told me, but they haven’t given it back to me yet. Sucks cause it’s my favourite sweater

Lucas: Damn, yeah, that does suck. Hopefully they return it soon

He looks over to the hoodie resting on his bed, still wrapped around his pillow. He really should wash it soon, he got another stain on it recently. 

His eyes widen as he thinks up a small safety measure just incase you’re over one day and find your sweater. Good thing it’s oversized.

Lucas: I have one that’s pretty similar, so if you aren’t able to get yours back you can always borrow mine lol

You: Lmaoo thanks, I’ll keep that in mind

Letting out a sigh, he shakes his head. He doesn’t particularly like the fact that he’s technically breaking your trust right now, and he has no clue what you’d do if you ever found out he lied to you, but he’s doing what he has to to ensure Jordan’s out of your life and that they can no longer keep you and him apart.

About two weeks pass by and Lucas notices that there seems to be a wedge driven between Jordan and you. The two of you no longer joke around as much as before when you’re together, and it’s as if there’s a sort of tension in the air whenever you’re around one another. For this, he couldn’t be more glad, his plan is working, though he’s surprised at how well it is. There must have been some other underlying factors causing this rift between the two of you other than the sweater incident, as you’ve now decided to call it.

On the other hand, you and Lucas have been getting even closer to one another. At least, over text messages. You do come to visit him every now and then during his night shifts, but it’s usually around closing time after you’ve finished working in the library. Even so, he’s grateful for every moment he gets to spend with you.

The due date to your assignment is getting closer every day, and the two of you have decided to finish it at his apartment this Saturday, which just so happens to be tomorrow evening. That means there’s less than a day left in the week before he’ll be able to make his final move, and make you his, once and for all.

He’s just at work refilling the coffee beans when he hears the bell chime above the door. Once again, he’s the only one on the floor, and he’s glad for it, for you walk in and manage to take his breath away like you always do. However, instead of wearing your usual calm expression, you seem more tense, and slightly frustrated.

“Hey,” he greets, putting the bag of coffee beans down so he can start your order, “the usual, I presume?”

“Yeah, please,” your reply is short as you go to reach for your wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house,” he says. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Thanks,” comes your blunt response, forcing a smile that pains his heart.

“Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry…” he trails off as he starts making your drink. 

Anyone would be able to tell that you’re not your usual self and that something is bothering you. He only wants you to know that he’s here for you, no matter what. He will always listen to whatever you have to say and do his best to support you in whatever way he can.

You let out a sigh, chewing on your bottom lip slightly, nervously. Lucas can tell that you’re contemplating on whether or not you should tell him what’s bothering you. Luckily for him, it looks like you trust him enough now to share your worries with him, a fact that warms his heart.

“It’s just Jordan,” you say, causing him to quirks a brow at you in response, waiting for you to continue. “They keep telling me that they don’t have my sweater and that you never gave it to them. This isn’t the first time they’ve kept something of mine and not given it back after saying they never had it in the first place.”

You pause momentarily, and he has to stop the surprised look that wants to spread across his features from breaking out onto his face. This plan of his is working out even better than he could have ever imagined. So, he decides it’s time to put his high school drama classes to use.

“That’s strange, considering I did give it to them,” he frowns. “Though, now that I think about it, they were acting kind of strange when I gave it to them.”

“What do you mean?” You question, brow furrowed as you watch his hands as they pour the shot into your drink.

“Well, they kind of snatched the hoodie from my hands and flung it over their arm like it was bothering them. It almost seemed like they were annoyed that I asked them to do this. Though I mean, I’ve heard they don’t like me very much,” he chuckles slightly, handing you your now finished drink, fingers brushing ever so slightly. “Though I found it strange that they wanted to talk with me in private.”

“They did?” You ask. “That is strange.”

“Yeah,” he nods subtly.

“What did they want to talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?” There’s curiosity in your eyes, but also, suspicion. Towards him or Jordan, he cannot be too sure, but he hopes he’ll be in the clear after this.

“Uh, well, I was quite shocked but they confronted me about supposedly,” he adds air quotes to his next words for emphasis, “playing with their feelings and leading them on.”

“What?” Your jaw drops.

“I swear, I was just as surprised as you are,” he goes on to say. “They told me that my little ‘game’ I was playing with them wasn’t funny any more and that I should just ‘be honest’ with my feelings for them and stop trying to make them ‘jealous’.”

“That’s ridiculous, oh my god,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to believe they would do something like that, let alone say it. From what I know, and - no offence - Jordan hates your guts.”

“That’s what I thought, too!” He replies, almost incredulously. “But I also know they like spreading rumours about people.”

You scoff, “you could say that again.”

“I mean, I don’t mean to stir anything even more, but wasn’t there also a rumour going around that I was supposedly trying to get with them or something?” Lucas leans one hand on the counter, the other resting at his side.

“Yeah, there was,” you nod. “It was cause of that coffee you brought me that one day in class, people thought it was for them cause-“ you pause, looking slightly embarrassed, “cause they were the one who drank it.”

“Oh,” he feigns a slight pout at learning this. “Did they- did they think I forgot to use lactose free milk or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you meet his gaze, suspicion lingering in your eyes.

“I did, in case you’re wondering, just to be on the safe side,” he adds. “I knew one of them was and I didn’t want to take a chance if the one who needed it was you. Now I know I made the right call.”

“That’s actually really considerate of you,” you flash him a small smile before shaking your head. “Anyways, that’s not the point.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “What if they were the one who started this rumour and used that as the catalyst.”

“They were pretty adamant about me not drinking it,” you recall, one hand coming to rest on your chin in thought, eyes widening as you realize something. “Holy fuck, maybe that’s why they’ve been-“ you inhale sharply, effectively cutting yourself off, “sorry to run off like this, but I’ve got to go. Thanks again for the drink, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Without another word, you storm out of the café, a fire now burning behind your eyes. Lucas is left there, stunned, heart racing as he can’t believe that this has actually worked. His plan is almost complete, and depending on how your talk goes with Jordan, of which he’s assuming is going to happen soon based on how you cut yourself off and stormed out of here, his plan might be complete by tomorrow evening.

A large smile breaks out across his face as he finishes wiping down all of the tables for the evening, his coworker finally coming out of the back to help him close the café. His whole body warms at the fact that tomorrow, he’ll finally be able to have you in his apartment, alone. Not to mention the fact that Jordan might finally be out of your life for good, eliminating that obstacle to your relationship before it can continue to sabotage him further than they already have. All he has to do now, is wait.

The whole afternoon the next day is spent cleaning his apartment and making sure it’s spotless for you. He makes sure he has food, drinks, anything you could possibly want for when you come over. Nothing is too much when it comes to you, and he wants to make sure he has everything he may need to make sure you’re happy and comfortable with him. This is his chance to impress you, and destroy any last remnants of him being a fuckboy from your mind. He’ll treat you right, forever and always.

Sure enough, seven o’clock rolls around and he hears a faint knock on his door. His heart nearly skips a beat in his chest, palms sweaty, as he walks over to open the door for you. 

Greeting you with a small smile, he notices you seem extremely tense. As soon as you enter his apartment, you’re kicking off your shoes with a sigh as he shuts his door once more.

“Hey, let’s finish this project, yeah?” You turn to him, and he can tell that you’re drained, both physically and emotionally.

“Sure,” he nods, motioning to his living room for you to lead the way. “Uh, can I get you anything?”

“Water, please,” your response is short as you move to sit on the couch, pulling out your laptop to work on the project.

He walks back into the room a minute later with two glasses of water to see you just sitting there on his couch staring blankly at your computer screen. Placing the glass on the table in front of you, he gently takes a seat beside you, ”is everything alright?”

“Honestly?” You sigh once more, shutting your laptop and turning to look at him. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow furrowed in concern.

“Remember our conversation yesterday?” He nods, waiting for you to continue. “Well, I decided to confront Jordan about everything, cause everything was just a little too convenient for them, if you know what I’m saying.” Again, he nods. “We ended up getting into a huge fight, and now we’re not talking to each other. I just can’t believe they would lie to me like this.”

“What happened?” Escapes him before he can stop himself, wanting to know exactly what they told you incase he needs to cover his own ass. He’s gotten this far, and he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, there’s no way he’s slipping up now.

“Well, I told them everything we talked about, and they basically called me stupid for believing you and not them, and then said that they can’t believe I think that they stole my sweater, or that they started that rumour,” you tell him, and he listens intently to every word you have to say, reacting appropriately each time. “They kept bashing you, and honestly, that made me really upset cause you’ve been nothing but kind to me. They just keep lying, and it only looks bad on their end cause they can’t explain themselves to me properly, which I told them, then they called me stupid again, and said that I’m too gullible for my own good. Basically, they were treating me like a kid, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Like fuck, they always have something to say about everything I do, and they’re so fucking controlling, I just blew up. Then they said some things and it just spiralled out of control. I don’t need that negativity in my life.”

His eyes are wide in shock. His plan worked. It actually worked! 

“I’m so sorry that this has happened to you, and that someone whom you thought was your friend would treat you like that,” he places a gentle hand on your knee for comfort and you glance down at it before looking up at him, concern written all over his features. “You don’t deserve that, and I apologize if I was the one who got you into this mess. I feel like if I wasn’t involved things wouldn’t have ended like this. I should have just given the sweater back to you.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” you shake your head, rubbing at your eyes lightly to clear your vision. “Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m just sorry you had to get involved like this.” You let out a frustrated grunt. “I feel like there’s just too much going on right now, and now we have to work on that fucking project cause it’s due at midnight.”

“Well, I have some news that may cheer you up,” he squeezes your knee slightly, causing you to look at his face once more in question. “I already finished our project last night. Well, it was like, three in the morning, but I figured you could use a relaxing evening given the conversation we had yesterday”

“You did?” You look at him with eyes shining with gratitude and wonder, and fuck does he ever just want to lean in and kiss you.

“I did,” he confirms with a small smile.

“Lucas, I can’t thank you enough,” he can visibly see you relax, as if a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders just from this one act alone.

“I can order us a pizza or something and we can just relax tonight and watch movies if you want,” he’s hoping you say yes and don’t just decide to leave after learning you don’t need to finish your assignment.

“Sounds good to me,” you agree. “I could use some relaxation time, if you know what I mean.”

The wink you send him has his body tensing slightly, heart skipping a beat in his chest. Are you hinting at something else? Something more? Whatever it is, he’ll be happy to oblige.

“Oh, I hear you,” he smirks.

“Anyways, what movie would you like to watch?” You ask, putting your laptop down and leaning further into the couch, getting comfortable.

You spend the next twenty minutes deciding on what movie to watch, the two of you laughing and cracking jokes the whole time. He’s noticed you’ve relaxed even more now the more time that passed, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful. If he allows himself to indulge in his fantasies, he envisions this as your first date night of many. 

By the time the second movie starts, he’s ordered the both of you a pizza, of which now rests on the table in front of you. About halfway through the movie, he notices you shiver slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “just a bit cold.”

Fuck, the only blanket he has is on his bed and it’s the one thing he didn’t wash today.

“You can borrow one of my sweaters if you’d like,” he offers, eyes flashing with something you don’t quite catch.

“Damn, at least ask me on a date first before letting me borrow your clothes,” you joke, giggling as you move to stand up.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach, a feeling he’s only rarely felt before, but a feeling he wants to feel again, with you.

“Fine then,” he notices you tense slightly at his words as he leans forwards slightly to stare at you intently, “would you like to go out with me sometime?”

You chuckle nervously, your own heart skipping a beat in your chest. You won’t deny, you’ve always thought Lucas was attractive, you just never thought you were his type. As far as you know, he doesn’t ask anyone out, so why you? Why now?

“I was kidding,” you try and brush his question off, not thinking he’s being serious.

“I’m not,” comes his immediate reply, and you notice how intently he’s staring at you, making your breath hitch in your throat.

Fuck it, “sure, why not?”

The smile you send him sends him over the moon. His plan actually worked! He nearly has to pinch himself, for this is like a dream come true, and soon, you’ll be all his, and his alone.

“So, uh, which room is it?” Your question has a million thoughts running through his head, causing him to nearly lose his composure until he realizes you’re just asking where you can find his sweaters.

“Down the hall on the right, in the closet,” he replies, willing his heart rate to calm down. “Take your pick.”

“Sweet, thanks,” you smile, heading off in the direction he’s told you.

Once you’ve arrived at his room, you slowly open the door, noting how clean and tidy his room is. The faint scent of jasmine lingers in the air as you walk towards his closet, opening the door and looking over the array of hoodies he has. As you’re riffling through them, a familiar looking one catches your eye. Immediately, you’re tearing it off the hanger, confusion written all over your face.

In your hands, you hold your missing sweater, or at least, you think it’s your hoodie. Same size, shape, make, everything. You’re about to question it further when you remember Lucas telling you that he had a similar hoodie to the one you lost. This must be the one he’s talking about.

Immediately, your shoulders relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. There’s no way he would have lied to you about everything, now, would he? You trust him enough not to linger on these thoughts for too long, instead, slipping the hoodie over your body and smiling at the familiar warmth it brings you. You only wish you could get your own back soon.

Walking back into the living room, Lucas swears he stops breathing as soon as he sees you. Luckily for him, you miss the brief panic that flashes through his eyes.

“You know, when you said you had a similar hoodie, I didn’t think you meant you had the exact same one,” you joke, sitting back down beside him on the couch. “How come I’ve never seen you wear it.”

He laughs, “I only use it for special occasions.”

“I see,” you nod.

“It looks good on you,” he says, and he’s thanking every star he decided to wash it today.

“Thanks,” you giggle, and just like every time, it’s like music to his ears.

A silence settles back over the two of you as you continue to watch the second movie. He’s already made a promise to himself not to let you leave tonight; he finally has you, and he’s not letting you go so easily. However, with the way that your head lulls onto his shoulder near the end of the movie, he doesn’t think he’ll need to work too hard to make you stay.

He looks down at your sleeping form, hand coming up to carefully stroke the side of your cheek. Shifting slightly so that you’ll be more comfortable, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer into him and hearing you hum in content. This time, it’s your turn to shift, and he freezes, thinking he’s woken you up. Instead, you bury your head deeper into his side, one hand coming to rest on his chest while your one leg tangles with his own, your thigh dangerously close to his hips.

Exhaling shakily, he wills himself to calm down, not wanting to ruin this moment, and revelling in it while it lasts. All he knows, is that he’s in for one long night.

#yandere kpop #yandere au #yandere nct #yandere wayv #yandere lucas #yandere yukhei #yandere #yandere nct u #nct scenario #nct u scenario #wayv scenario #super m scenario #yandere super m #Lucas scenario #kpop #Kpop au #kpop scenario #au

[downondilaudid]

Anatomy Lesson

Reader has some sex trouble, out of all people to ask for help, she asks Spencer Reid. 

Requested: Nope

Prompts: Nada

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: It’s pretty much just straight smut

“Good sex is like good bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” -- Mae West

Your head fell back against the plush pillow with an annoyed groan. You threw the vibrator to the side, watching it roll across the bed, once again you were unable to achieve an orgasm. It was almost always like this, even in past relationships you found yourself having to often fake orgasms. You definitely didn’t have a low libido, you considered your sex drive to be slightly above average, but an orgasm for you was hardly ever attainable, especially not solo. 

Maybe it was the fact you had always been a sucker for rough sex, it was easier for you to come while being totally dominated. All of your past relationships had been fairly vanilla, they either weren’t into it or still couldn’t get you off. 

You were desperate for an orgasm at this point, were you doing something wrong, was something wrong with you? You had to find out, you had exhausted all of your options. There was one thing left to try, you had to ask Spencer, I mean, he was your best friend, and a genius, he would know. He wouldn’t find it totally weird, right? 

You had decided Friday would be the perfect day to ask him, Friday, at the end of the day, where you could avoid him until Monday if the conversation headed South. 

“Hey, uh, Spence?” You questioned, luckily, by the grace of God, you were the last two packing up to head home after a long week. 

“Hm?” A sugar-crashed Spencer answered. 

“I have a question, it’s sort of-Oh God how do I word this?” There was no backing out now, you had to ask. 

Spencer stopped what he was doing, his brows furrowed in concern. He laid his files onto his desk, walking around it briskly towards you. “What is it? Did something happen?” 

“No-no-I just, I was just wondering” you took a deep breath, letting your words flow together as fast as possible “how unlikely is it for someone to be unable to achieve an orgasm during sex?”

Spencer’s face flushed slightly, automatically stuffing his hands into his pockets, a habit you had noticed he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “I-uh-well, I mean, statistically during- uhm, intercourse, only around 20% of women have an...o-orgasm, and around 5% of women never have orgasms during intercourse.” 

You nodded your head, keeping your eyes trained on your desk, straightening a set of files. Well, that was good to know, there definitely wasn’t something wrong with you then. Maybe you just needed a man's touch, and, yes, that is a horrible thing to say. Usually, you weren’t so dependent, especially dependent on a man alone, but you needed some form of relief, and if a male could give it to you, then you would take it.  

Spencer cleared his throat, “are you, uh, having t-trouble?” 

For some reason you didn’t want to answer the question, the topic was already embarrassing enough, and admitting aloud that you were having trouble orgasming doubled that embarrassment. “Y/N?” Spence’s tentative voice brought you out of your stupor. 

Huffing, you grabbed the files shoving them into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You turned, continuing to look everywhere except at Spencer, beginning your trek to your car.

You were halfway to the elevator when Spencer caught up to you, his hand coming to lay on your shoulder. “Y/N, It’s nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, it’s quite normal, especially for someone who isn’t in a relationship.” 

You pushed your shoulder back, moving away from his touch. “Let’s not talk about it, I shouldn’t have even asked, it was a stupid question.” You stepped into the elevator, Spencer hot on your trail. 

“It’s not a stupid question, Y/N, it’s perfectly normal. Out of curiosity, are you just-is it just-vaginal penetration?” The elevator doors shut, and you were regretting ever asking the question. 

“Nope, Spencer, it’s not.” You huffed. It shouldn’t be this uncomfortable to talk about your sex life, but this was Spencer we’re talking about. Spencer was practically asexual!

“Maybe you should try relaxing, your mind at least, sometimes if you’re distracted by other things it’ll become hard to achieve an orgasm. It’s actually the opposite for your body, a lot of women report feeling tension, especially in their abdomen and legs during or before an orgasm.” Spencer stated, watching as you walked out of the elevator, following after you.

Since when did Spencer get so open talking about sex? Sure he was a bit hesitant, but, to be honest, you didn’t even know if he was going to answer, let alone in this detail. “Thanks, Spence.” You said curtly, it was a little wrong for you to be so upset when you were the one who asked the question, but you were already stressed enough. 

Here you were, one warm bath later, laying on your bed, butt naked, once again.

Still, you couldn’t orgasm. Shamefully, you had even gone as far as choking yourself, playing out one of the dirtiest fantasies you could think of in your head. When that didn’t work you switched to visuals, which definitely brought you closer to the edge, but wasn’t enough to push you over into the sweet bliss 

Surprisingly Spencer didn’t say anything about your awkward encounter on Monday, or the rest of the week, until Friday. Once again, you and Spencer were the last two, Spencer had been going over the files from the most recent case, and you were filling out some paperwork, trying to get ahead of the load Hotch was going to give you next week.

“Spencer, it’s over. She’s safe, and that bastard is off to prison.” 

He sighed deeply in response, one of his long slender fingers pressed thoughtfully against his lips. “I just don’t understand how I didn’t see it sooner.”

You scoffed, “Spencer, you may be a genius, but no one expects you to know everything, you don’t have to know everything. Spence,  you’re going to kill yourself trying to figure out everything. You’re always so stressed, you just need to relax, let go, read a book, or listen to some music, do something that calms you.”

Spencer turned to you, his hazel eyes bearing into yours, “speaking of stressful, how’s your, uhm, problem?” His hands stuffed into his pockets comfortably. 

You let out a short chuckle, as uncomfortable as talking about your sex life with Spencer was, the sight of Spencer flustered and stuttering was definitely humorous. “Spencer, stop trying to distract me, you need to stop stressing over closed cases.”  

“So, you haven’t cum yet?” Spencer questioned, pulling his hands out of his pockets. 

You swear your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, Spencer had never been that forward, especially not talking about sex, and especially not with you. Your mouth fell open, not completely sure how to respond.

“That was too forward, wasn’t it?” Spencer questioned, realization seeping through his voice. 

You nodded your head, mouth still hung open. 

“And you tried relaxing, but also simultaneously letting yourself be tense?” 

“Yes, Spence.” 

He went silent for a while, turning around and beginning to gather his things. 

And you thought the conversation had ended, and he had decided to drop it, and hopefully go home and relax, but alas, you were wrong. 

“You know, I could always, uhm, help you, i-if you want.” Spencer stuttered, his face flushing with an awkward smile. 

At first, you thought you were hearing things, that sentence had not come out of Spencer’s mouth. You didn’t even know how to respond, he obviously wasn’t joking. I mean, sure, Spencer was very attractive, but you had never really thought of him as anything more than a friend. 

“W-what do you mean?” You knew what he meant, at least you thought you did, but you didn’t want to risk being wrong. 

Spencer grabbed his satchel, placing it across his body, “I mean I could help you, you know, help you, uh, o-orgasm.” 

Holy Shit. You were right. 

“W-we don’t have to, obviously, I just-it sounds frustrating, and I just-I want to help.” Spencer’s hands wrapped around the strap of his satchel, watching you with wary eyes.

“No-no, I get it, that-that’s very sweet, Spence, I just-won’t that change our friendship?”

Spencer shrugged, “not necessarily, Y/N, you’re my best friend, I want to help you. Plus it’ll be good for me too like you said, I need some sort of stress relief.”

You smiled, how on earth did you get so lucky to have a best friend like him, “thanks, Spence, that means a lot.”

“Just think about it,” Spencer said with a smile.

You nodded your head, turning to begin packing up your things.

You ran your hand over your sweaty face, pushing aside some hair. Still, nothing. At this point, you were very much ready to accept Spencer’s offer. Even if it did change your relationship.

Your eyes glared at the screen of your phone, the 11:04 seemingly taunting you, would he even be awake? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try

Y/N: Are you up?

You hit send, laying your phone next to you, you didn’t really expect Spencer to answer, at least not immediately, he rarely ever used his phone. But, like a lot of things lately, you were wrong, because your phone buzzed beside you. 

Spencer: Unfortunately, I can’t seem to sleep. I’m assuming the same for you?

Sighing, you formulated a reply. 

Y/N: Unfortunately, you probably know why… 

His reply was almost immediate as if he was sitting there waiting for you to answer. 

Spencer: My offer still stands. 

You ran your hands over your face for what seems like the millionth time. Were you really going to do this, let Spencer come over and fuck you?   

Y/N: How fast can you be here?

Yes. Yes, you were. 

You paced back and forth in front of your door. You had brushed your teeth, and hair, luckily, you had already shaved today. Were you supposed to wear something, like lingerie? Was he even going to touch you, or just tell you what to do? What if he couldn’t make you cum? What if he wasn’t rough enough?

Knock, knock, knock. Three soft wraps on the other side of the door. Spencer. 

You sighed, no turning back now. You moved, unlocking the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. 

There Spencer stood, clad in some simple plaid pajama pants, and a grey T-shirt. It was unusual to see him so casually dressed.

“Hey” you greeted shyly.

“Hey,” Spencer said, stepping into your apartment. 

“S-So how does this work? How do you want to do this?” You questioned, gulping nervously.

Spencer chuckled surprisingly calm, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Y/N. This is about you, helping you get some relief.”

You smiled, biting your lip slightly, you had zero clue where Spencer’s newfound confidence was coming from, but you were enjoying it. “Well, I don’t know, I’m pretty much okay with anything, I guess.”

“How do you usually like to have sex, rough, soft, both? What gets you off Y/N, what turns you on?” Spencer stepped closer to you, his voice dropping an octave. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, who knew Spencer had such a dirty mouth? “I-uh, well…” you trailed off.

Spencer moved forward once again, his large hand pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “something tells me you like it rough, you like to be dominated, totally fucked into oblivion.” 

The room seemed to spin, and your lip caught between your teeth, at this point, you weren’t even sure if this was Spencer? Had you just let a random man into your apartment? Did an alien infest Spencer’s body and now it was here to kill you?

Spencer tucked the strand of hair behind your ear, but his hand continued moving, playing with the hair at the back of your head. Then in one swift tug, your head was yanked back, neck exposed. You let out a yelp, digging your teeth deeper into your lip. “Am I right?” He questioned, his hazel eyes now a deep brown with lust. His other hand ran a finger up your neck, watching you shiver. 

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t, somehow, it almost felt foreign to move your mouth, if he didn’t have you convinced before, he definitely did now. Maybe Spencer could make you cum, and maybe multiple times. 

He tugged on your hair harshly once again, causing you to release a low groan. Spencer leaned in closer, placing his head next to your ear, whispering lowly “in case you can’t tell, I’m looking for an answer, sweetheart.” His finger trailed to the base of your neck, flattening his palm to run it up to your neck once again, his hand wrapping around the sides of your neck. 

You whimpered lightly, letting your hands grip his wrist for support. Without thinking you breathed out a response, “yes, yes sir, you’re right.” 

Spencer pulled his head back from your face, his dark eyes making contact with yours. “Mhm, good girl.” Spencer’s voice was low, and gravely, obviously, he seemed to enjoy this just as much as you did. His hand released your neck, shifting slightly so he could run his thumb over your bottom lip. 

Once again, almost out of instinct, you took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. If someone had asked what your plans were for tonight, never in your life would you think to respond “inviting Spencer Reid over to my house at 11 o'clock at night, then letting him fuck me.” 

Spencer groaned lightly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, dragging it down your chin, wiping off the saliva. He brought his other hand up to cup your face gently, his eyes darting down to your lips. Taking the initiative, you stood on your tiptoes, bringing your lips up to his soft pink ones. Your mouths moved in sync as if this were an everyday occurrence. 

  You both pulled away, chests heaving for air. “Y-you’re sure about this?” Spencer questioned, concern filling his eyes.

You giggled, Spencer would never not be a gentleman, “I’m sure, Spence. I need this, and you need some stress relief, and if it’ll benefit us both, why not?”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “okay.”

Smiling, “okay” you responded. 

“Is there-you know, anything that I shouldn’t do, things you aren’t comfortable with?” 

You let yourself think for a moment, was there anything you weren’t comfortable with? You were very explorational with your sex life, and you trusted Spencer. “Not really, Spence. Just, do what you think will make me cum.” 

Once again, the predatory look clouded over Spencer’s eyes, his lips curling into a smirk. “That's not my name, sweetheart.” He growled.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. “Sorry...sir.” You were slightly hesitant, you had already called him sir, but you weren’t sure if it was the name he was looking for. 

A smack rang through the air and a stinging spread through your ass. Your body jerked forward pressing further into his, “shit! Sorry, daddy!” You cried, your eyes snapping open to watch his reaction. The daddy had slipped out, you didn’t know if Spencer would be weirded out, or into it, hopefully, the latter. 

Spencer’s eyes widened, apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Before you could correct yourself, one of his hands gripped your hips, roughly pulling you into him, and the other pulled your head to him, smashing his lips against yours. You moaned into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his torso, trailing up his back and into his long hair, tugging at it. He groaned against your lips, his head falling back slightly, breaking the kiss. 

“Fuck, Y/N, not what I was looking for, but, I definitely enjoyed it.” Spencer groaned out, his hands traveling your sides. Yet, you longed for more, you longed to feel his skin against yours, the weight of his hips between your legs. 

You peppered kisses over his neck, relishing in the way his hands felt against your body. Spencer groaned lightly as you sucked at a spot at the base of his neck. His hands dug into your hips harshly, and you whimpered slightly at the pain. With a rough shove, Spencer pushed you away from him, both of you panting. 

“I want you on the bed, naked, don’t touch yourself, just wait for daddy,” Spencer said, his voice dripping with an authority he only ever used in the interrogation room, and God did you love it.

You nodded your head in understanding, turning to walk to the bedroom. Once inside, the nerves hit, you were really doing this, you were actually going to fuck Spencer, and hopefully cum. Your shirt hit the floor first, the cool air causing your nipples to harden since you had opted not to wear a bra. Your leggings came off next, with only a little struggle due to the slight sweat that came with being aroused. Lastly, your thin lace thong, which you made sure to drop a little closer to the doorway, just so Spencer would notice it first thing when he walked into the room. 

Spencer walked down the short hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet, alerting you of his approach. Quickly you sat on the bed, both legs and arms crossed in a means of covering yourself. As excited as you were to cum, that didn’t knock the anxiety of Spencer seeing your naked body. 

Spencer appeared in the doorway, his teeth immediately biting down on his lip at the sight of you. He took slow steps towards you, maintaining eye contact the whole way. He crouched in front of you so his face was level with yours. His hands ran over your arms, uncrossing them gently before doing the same with your legs. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

A blush covered your face, it was incredible how quickly he could switch from domineering to sweet. Spencer leaned in, peppering kisses over your neck. His arms were placed on either side of you, his mouth working sinfully. 

Your head leaned back with a breathy moan, giving him better access to your neck. Spencer's mouth worked over your collarbone, beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses in the valley of your breasts. “Such pretty tits,” he mumbled against your skin, letting one of his hands reach up and palm your breast. Your back arched into his touch, his warm skin against yours. 

You brought your head upright, watching as he took one of your perky nipples into his pretty pink lips. “Fuck, Spence” you moaned out, placing your hand on the back of his head to run through his hair. Spencer’s teeth lightly grabbed your nipple, pulling his head back, tugging sharply. “Shit! Daddy, I meant daddy.” You corrected breathily.  

Spencer’s mouth released your nipple, his head coming up to yours for a sloppy kiss. He pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. He chuckled lightly, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip to break it. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” 

You smiled, could this man get any more polite? “Yes, please just do something.” You begged. 

“Ask and you shall receive” Spencer answered, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He moved slightly, situating himself on his knees. You bit your lip softly, wishing this intimate moment could last forever. His large hands rested on your knees, spreading your legs. He chuckled, “Mhm, so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you.” 

Your head tilted back slightly, ecstasy running through your body at his words. One of his hands trailed up your leg, stopping to rub soft circles around your clit. You moaned lightly, one of your hands placed behind you to keep your body upright, the other on the back of Spencer’s head playing with his hair. His pace sped up slightly, and you bucked your hips forward, aching for more. “Please, please, I need more.” You whined.

“Patience, love” despite his words, his pace sped up again, and your head tilted further back with a loud moan. “There you go, sweetheart, enjoy it.” He removed his thumb, and before you could complain, it was quickly replaced by his tongue, kitten licking your clit slowly. 

You groaned lightly, the hand in his hair tightening its grip. “Yes, daddy, fuck.” 

Spencer’s tongue sped up, his eyes gazing up at you, watching you squirm with pleasure. Spencer’s hand on your knee trailed up your thigh, his fingertips running up and down your lips. 

You looked down at him, a whimper escaping your mouth at the sight. His hand parted your lips, pushing a finger into your pussy. “Fuck, yes, Spencer.” He didn’t correct you this time, instead, he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking lightly, while his finger began slow strokes in and out of your cunt. 

A loud moan escaped your lips, your hips rocking lightly against his face. The tip of his tongue ran lightly over your clit, and his finger picked up the pace. “Mhm, yes, daddy, just like that.” Your hand tugged harshly at his hair, and you were sure it had to hurt.

Spencer’s lips released your clit with a pop, “are you close, love?” He questioned, a lust-hungry look in his eyes.

You nodded your head vigorously, “yes, so, close, please-just-please.” You could feel it, the knot building rapidly in your stomach, the tension in your legs. Spencer slipped another finger into your pussy, crooking them slightly, his pace becoming ruthless, hitting a spot inside of you that you didn’t know existed. His lips wrapped around your clit again, this time sucking harshly, watching as your thighs shook around his head and your back arched, your hips thrusting into his face. 

You let out a loud cry, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came. Your toes curled, breath hitched, and your thighs clamped down on Spencer’s head, whimpers and moans leaving your mouth. It was like pure bliss, and you had never been more thankful for Spencer in your life.

Spencer’s mouth and fingers worked you through your orgasm, only slowing down when your chest began to heave for the breath you lacked. His lips popped off your clit, and his drenched fingers slid out of your pussy. “You made a mess, baby.” 

You looked down at him, and never had you seen a more beautiful sight, his hair was tousled, and his chin was covered in your arousal. He brought his fingers to his lips, taking them in his mouth, cleaning off your arousal. You moaned at the sight alone, still slightly out of breath. Spencer pulled his fingers out of his mouth, placing his hands at your sides. He pushed himself back up onto his feet. “You want me to fuck you?” He asked, his voice low and strained, you could see why his erection was visible through his pants. 

Your mouth hung open, you had just come, but somehow, your body longed for more, to feel his cock inside you. You nodded your head, your eyes pleading with his. His hand trailed up your side, sliding over your breast and up to your neck, choking you lightly. “Use your words, sweetheart.” He teased.

“Yes, yes, please fuck me, daddy.” You squirmed in his grip, body aching for him.

The hand on your neck pushed you back so you were lying flat against the bed. Spencer released your neck, quickly beginning to shed his clothes. You watched with hooded eyes, your thighs rubbing together for some friction. Once he was fully unclothed, he was on you, his mouth catching yours in a feverish kiss. Your hands wrapped around his torso, nails clawing down his back. He groaned at the pain, “ready for me to fuck you?” 

“Yes! Yes, fuck me!” You groaned, reaching your hand in between the two of you to pump his cock. He moaned loudly in your ear, and you swear it was like you had died and gone to heaven. In one swift motion, he snapped his hips forward, burying his cock in you. You yelped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your nails scratched down his back once again as he bottomed out, slamming back into you setting a brutal pace. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me, so perfect.” He groaned out. He stopped momentarily, his hands grabbed your thighs, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. He pounded into you, this time balls deep. Your hands left his back, moving to grab your breasts, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

His hand shot up, wrapping around your neck lightly, causing your already dizzy head to spin more. Groans and curses left Spencer’s mouth, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tan skin. He looked like a God above you, and you had no idea how you got so lucky as to fuck him. 

“Harder” you groaned out. Your hips thrust up to meet his, both of you working aggressively towards your orgasms. Spencer complied, his head falling back with a groan as he rammed into you. You screamed, eyes crossing as his cock brushed over your g-spot, your cunt clamping down onto his cock. “Fuck! Right there, Spencer, God, yes!”

“Oh, God, Y/N, such a perfect little slut for me.” He growled, his breath coming out in short pants. Incomprehensible moans and cries of Spencer's name left your lips.

 Your hand on your breast crept up to Spencer’s hand around your neck, wrapping around his wrist. “I’m so close” you managed to groan out. 

“Fuck, me too.” Spencer moaned, his voice deep and gravely. Your skin slapped against his with each thrust, the sound filling your bedroom. “Rub your clit” Spencer commanded, his hand held your hip in a harsh grip, which would definitely leave bruises. 

You nodded, as best as you could with his large hand wrapped around your neck. You reached your hand down, using two fingers to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit. “I-I’m gonna cum.” 

Spencer moaned above you, his eyes shutting, and his teeth biting down on his perfect lips. “Fuck, cum, cum for me.” He leaned closer into you, his swollen mouth capturing yours in a kiss. You pressed your lips desperately against his, teeth clashing sloppily. 

You broke the kiss with a moan, your head falling back against the bed, and your back arching. The hand on his wrist squeezed harder, “tighter, tighter.” You cried, signaling for him to cut off more of your circulation. Without question, his hand tightened to the perfect pressure, and it was all you needed to send you over the edge into pure bliss. You came with a loud scream, that was sure to alert the neighbors, and your walls fluttered around Spencer’s cock, tears of pleasure flowing freely down your face. Everything in your body tensed, and your eyes rolled so far into the back of your head you’re surprised they didn’t get stuck there. 

Your orgasm sent Spencer into his own, his head falling back with a deep guttural groan, his hands on your body tightening their grip. His body stilled, his cock buried deep within you, twitching and releasing his cum. “Fuck, Y/N, you perfect slut, ugh.”

Spencer’s hand released your neck, falling onto your hip. You gulped down the air like a fish, your hand releasing his wrist and coming up to rub your sore neck. Spencer pushed your legs off his shoulders, and his body collapsed onto yours, both of you completely wrecked.

You felt his hot breath against your neck, both of you panting like dogs. You could feel the sweat running down your forehead, mixing with the tears on your face.  Your eyes were still closed, your body still coming down from it’s high. At that moment you couldn’t wait to go to sleep, not just because you were exhausted, but because you could wrap around Spencer like a sloth. You laughed lightly, running one of your hands through Spencer’s hair. “That was amazing” you breathed out.

Spencer chuckled into your neck, “I knew I could make you cum.” He pulled back, hovering on his forearms above you. 

You giggled at his words, your hands trailing down his back, to his tense shoulders, massaging them lightly. With one last peck to your lips, Spencer pulled away, turning around. You giggled again at the sight of his bare ass, “as much as I love the view, where are you going?”

He turned back to you with a light-hearted smile on his face “I need to clean you up, I don’t think you want to go to bed with cum dripping down your thighs.” 

You groaned, lazily reaching out for him, “but I’m tired.” 

“And whiny,” Spencer replied, his voice muffled as he walked away from you and into the bathroom. 

“I’m only whiny because I want to go to sleep, we can take a shower in the morning.” You attempted to sway him. 

He walked back into the bedroom, a wet rag in his hand. You smiled, you could already see the multitude of love bites you left on his neck. “Your neck looks pretty,” you stated lazily.

Spencer laughed at your words, crouching down to run the rag up your thighs. “Yours does too, you’re going to need a lot of makeup to cover that bruise.” He was right, a bruise in the shape of his hand was going to be on your neck for days.

You let out a hiss as he ran the rag up your folds, still extremely sensitive. You sat up slightly, attempting to retreat further onto the bed and away from Spencer. His arms slung over your waist, pulling you right back to the edge of the bed. “The quicker I do this the quicker we get to go to sleep, sweetheart.” He chided. 

You rolled your eyes, pouting like a child, “but it hurts.” 

Spencer hummed in understanding, continuing to clean you, “you know, I was going to make you cum another time, but, I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Oh, please, I’d let you fuck me till I pass out if you made me cum like that again.” You laughed, watching as he threw the dirty rag onto the bedside table. He turned back to the bed, hovering over you once again. 

His lips found yours in a slow, passionate kiss. “I’m holding you to that.” 

You scoffed, pushing him off of you, “you better.” You turned onto your hands and knees, crawling to pull the comforter down. Spencer repeated your actions, crawling into bed next to you. You threw your leg over his, laying an arm across his chest. 

“Here,” he said, sitting up slightly to slide his arm under your head as a makeshift pillow. “Next time, I’ll have to teach you how to make yourself cum.”

You sighed dreamily, snuggling further into Spencer’s warm body. You looked up at him, “next time, huh?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened, his body shifting slightly away from you, “I-I mean, only if you want to-”

You laughed, using your hand on his chest to push him back down onto the bed, “ of course I want to.” You paused for a moment, “but, won’t that be a little...weird?”

Spencer laughed “Only if you make it, Y/N. Think of this all as an anatomy lesson” Spencer whispered breathily into your ear.

#criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler

[missblissy]

Heyo! Do you think you could write something for demon al finding out his demon s/o also likes to sing? I love singing and it think it would be really cute to do it with Alastor 🤲🏻

((I would love to nonny! Im sorry for the wait :') I hope you like it! I turned it more into a song fic? Like.... A... double song fic xD??? Anyways I hope you enjoy!! Here and Here are the songs used in this fic!!))

He took a deep breath in and held on to it for as long as he could. The one and only joy he really had within the walls of this hotel was this. If it wasn't for these weekend shows, he might have just killed everyone by now out of sheer boredom. Every weekend, the Hazbin Hotel opened its doors to the general public. The lounge was opened up, tables were set, seats were filled. Dinner and a show were to be served to all who came in those doors. Though not free of charge, much to Charlie's protests. But the hotel had to make money somehow, so Alastor was put in charge of that.

The curtains pulled and opened before him and a spotlight flashed upon him. Alastor smiled wide, "Hello~!" He said in a cheerful tone. He was already scanning the crowd of people, looking for you, "How is everyone doing tonight? Horrible I hope!" The audience let out a little laugh at that. Alastor kept looking around, but the seat you normally sat in had someone else in it. No noticed, but there was a twitch of anger in his smile for a second, "Well! Let's get this show started!" He snapped his fingers and the spotlight turned off. Music started to play and soon enough Alastor transformed himself into a more casual outfit. As the music picked up, his spotlight turned back on and Alastor was half tempted to not sing this song especially if you weren't even here. Well, he did only meet you a few weeks ago, and you only did just started some... flirtationship if you would even call it that.

Oh well. Here goes nothing. Some much for trying to impress you with this, "I heard the time just slips from your sugarplum lips. So I go there just to watch it fall and then my jaw just drops when your cherry lollypops! I get nervous when you bounce my ball~" He gave a charming smile to no one in general, unfortunately. Come on, were you late? No... You knew when the hotel opened....

"I get the strangest sense we were lovers, past tense. Like a dog in heat, I just can't be indiscreet and when I see you there I whisper my prayer so sweet~ I'm getting shaky on my feet, I'm incomplete~" Alastor's mind raced while he sang on autopilot. Maybe he just couldn't see you in dark? Maybe you were all the way in the back? "I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear! I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown~"

Alastor paused with the music, letting the song play only enough for him to take a deep breath and wonder where the hell was his favorite little play thing, "I heard your glass hips swayed while the jitterbugs played. Every man was on his bended knee~ And all my hopes got smashed as my nerve just crashed! I was as heavy as a boy can be." He went on to sing the chorus again, while somehow giving up on looking for you in the crowd at the same time. It was almost too ironic that the next lines fit his feelings perfectly, "And if you just can't do me right, then, honey, please do me wrong! I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown!"

He sang on, with a slight hollowness to his voice that no one picked up on. He didn't move as quickly or flash as big of a smile. Alastor finished his little musical number and left the stage with a round of applause, and quickly someone else took the stage. All kinds of people showed up to sing, to even do comedy (Which Alastor did as well, he just didn't feel like it today. Maybe he should have seeing as you weren't even here.)

There was a special place where Alastor got to sit. In the very front, in a booth with Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk. Nifty was never around for these kinds of things, and Angel often made some kind of sexual escapade out of a song later into the night. When Alastor finally sat down with the rest of the group, he found it very odd that Charlie was bouncing with joy.

"Hi, Al!" She said a little too loud. She got "shh"ed by a few people close by, "Sorry-" She whispered out, "Hi!" She said again to Alastor with a little wave of her hand.

His ever-present smile grew only slightly, "Hello, Charlie. Excited for tonight, are we?"

"Yeah!" She blurted out again, with another round of people hushing her up. So this time she whisper-yelled, "You're in for a great show tonight, Al!"

Alastor flickered his gaze to the stage, the same person was still there trying to make music out of whatever horrible sounds they were making. He looked back to Charlie and raised a brow, "I am?" He asked, "What makes you say tha-"

"Shh! Shh!" Charlie held a finger to her mouth and waved her other hand in the air, "It's starting!" Alastor looked to the stage again, now empty with no lights shining on it.

Music started to play once again, but the lights remained low. He could barely make out someone walking in the darkness of the stage, then suddenly, the lights flashed on and it was you, "You call me on the telephone, you feel so far away. You tell me to come over, there's some games you want to play," You stared him down, eyes lock on no one else but Alastor. Finally, the table have turned, and little did Alastor know that he was going to be the one seduced with a song tonight, "I'm walking to your house, nobody's home. Just me and you and you and me alone~"

You quickly take step after step down the front of the stage, matching your movements to the tempo of the song. It was only a few steps before you stood right in front of the table Alastor, and everyone sat at. But somehow you made him feel like he was the only one in the room, "We're just playing hide and seek, it's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you~ I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing- chasing after you~" It was like you a spell on him. Your words were sultry and loose enough for him to read between your lyrics. You even gave him that sneaky little smirk before going on to sing, "I don't give a fuck about you anyways! Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you~"

You spun on your heel quickly giving a wave of your hand. You were playing hard to get and you knew Alastor couldn't resist. As you made your way back up the long stage, Alastor couldn't even stop himself before he realized he was following you up there. At that moment, he knew everyone was watching him... and you. How entertaining.

Just as he got close enough, you turned quickly to face him and quickly point a finger at him, then press it into his chest to push him away, "Wake up in your bedroom and there's nothing left to say. When I try to talk you're always playing board games," You then quickly moved your hand and grabbed him by his chin. You gave a dirty little smirk and made sure to give him look he couldn't resist, "I wish I had monopoly over your mind, I wish I didn't care all the time. We're just playing hide and seek~ It's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you! I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing, chasing after you~"

You walked circles around him, Alastor's eyes hard on you and watching every move. His smile was weak, shaken, and there was a hunger in his eyes you'd never seen but always wanted to, "Ring around the rosy, I never know- I never know what you need~ Ring around the rosy, I want to give you- want to give you what you need~ I don't give a fuck about you anyways. Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you."

Alastor made an attempt to reach out and grab you, but he was slowly and only half attempted. You spun by him quickly, missing him, and making sure to give him a wink as you avoided him. But you stopped just shy of him, standing dead center. You smiled, then tilted your head slightly and held your hand out for him to take, "You know I give a fuck about you everyday, guess it's time that I tell you the truth. If I share my toys, will you let me stay? Don't want to leave this play date with you~"

There was a loud round of applause, cheering, and whistling. To say he was stunned, walking around like a drooling dog, that would be an understatement. You smiled wide, giggling to yourself as Alastor started to remember where he was. He didn't like all these eyes on him, and especially on you. He looked over his shoulder and saw Charlie and Vaggie laughing, in a good way, at least. They seemed to be enjoying watching Alastor fawn over someone.

That drew the line in the sand for him. He quickly grabbed onto your wrist and with his free hand, he snapped his finger. In a little cloud of smoke and dust, the two of you were gone from the hotel's auditorium. You watched as Alastor poofed the two of you away, and manifested out in the hotel hallways. His grip on you was tight as you giggled at his flustered face.

Your little giggles grew as you asked, "So? Did you lik- Mwh!" Alastor cut you off by slamming his lips into yours. He held onto you, hands gripping your arms as he dragged you in closer to him. You were caught off guard as he pushed you backward until your back was pressed against a wall. He deepened the kiss, hungry for more and more of you. You moaned, falling into his embrace and giving in to his demands.

Alastor pulled only inches away but made sure to press you into the wall, hard, trapping you against him, "I loved it." His words were deep and husky, filled with a desire you've never seen him have before. The low growl in his voice sent chills down your spine and caused your skin to heat up, "But don't ever do that kind of shit with me ever. Again. Understood?"

You stared back at him with wide eyes and lips pressed together. You nodded quickly and watched as his sinister smiles curled onto his lips, "Good," He gave you a small kiss, then teased you by licking your lips. He knee was quickly between your legs as he rested an arm on the wall behind you. He went to the crook of your neck, whispering in your ear, "Now, where were we~?"

#hazbin alastor x reader #hh alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor / you #hazbin hotel #hh #habzin #hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #long #ask #nonny #anon #THIS ONE IS SPICY ;) #kinda #lol #hahahahahah

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Penthouse

Note: After events of Elevator. I love/hate this. loved starting, fucking hated finishing it. fucking nightmare. no tags, for this garbage. this hodgepodge of a story shows the weakness in my writing. ugh. 🙃 Don’t read this. i wrote this for my own entertainment. Long AF. so much preamble.

Summery: Freedom was sweet

⚠️Warning: 18+ Only content with dark themes, Kidnapping, Non Con/Dub Con, Cream-pie ⚠️

Dark Steve x Reader

🏢

You stood, back facing the multi level high rise with a banker box, filled with various items of your old life, in hand stunned. For the past few years you were held against your will by James 'Bucky' Barnes. The notorious mobster used you as his play thing, torturing, beating and occasionally starving you. Now you stood outside free.

"Hey!"

Your back tensed at the sound of the familiar right hand man of Bucky.

*It was a trap, of course.*

He wanted to see how far you would go this time, before he dragged you back to that damned penthouse.

"Never thought the day would come huh?" Steve laughed cheerfully.

You looked at him wordlessly, waiting for the shoe to drop. Instead he dug in his pocket, pulling out a fat wad of rolled up bills. Tucking it under one of the garments in the box you held.

"This should get you on your feet." Steve smiled at you. You blinked at him confused by his words. He turned from you briefly, hailing a cab to put you in.

*Was it really true? Were you really free?*

As the yellow cab pulled up an SUV parked behind it. When the back door opened the people filing out caught your eye. A beautiful woman dressed in black sequins and from what you could surmise maybe barely old enough to drink. Followed by Bucky and a few of his lackeys.

Steve lowered your head into the idling cab, careful not to hit your head on the open door. "Your replacement" comically chucking a thumb back in their direction. Closing the door he knocked on the drivers window and took out more money. Telling the cabbie to take you where ever you wanted before leaving.

Sitting in the back seat you turned and watched Bucky led the young beauty into the building. "Where to Miss?" The driver asked and it was a question you hadn't had the privilege to answer in such a long time you didn't know what to say.

🏢

It took some getting used to, but eventually you found your bearings. With the money you got a tiny apartment miles away from the penthouse. It was funny as you had always fantasized about moving to Canada or over seas if you were to ever escape Bucky, but here you were, still stuck in the same city.

Now free again you were able to live life as you wished. Eating when you wanted, going where you wanted the freedom was exhilarating. Unfortunately the time spent with Bucky you lost all the friends you had, family was scarce and thanks to him there was also a large gap in employment. Finding a job wasn't so easy, but eventually you landed on your feet.

🏢

The diner was quick to snap you up for their evening to graveyard shifts. It didn't pay well, but it was fine and you loved it for what it was. Free food, the occasional good tip, the money was enough to live off of and it was far away from Bucky's syndicate.

It took a bump from a passing waitress to bring you back to earth. A booth in your section filled to the brim with your nightmare. Looking to the door you contemplated walking straight out and never looking back. A high pitched whistle caught your attention. The table across from theirs signaled for a check.

Panicked you looked for a fellow waitress to help you out of the bind, but no one was in sight. There wasn't a point in running. If they were here, then they were going to get you.

Holding your head low you walked over, hugging the laminated menus tightly to your chest.

Quickly you handed them their receipt and tried to make your fast escape. A familiar voice cleared his throat making you jump. You stood with your backs to them for longer than would be normal and the table in front of you didn't appreciate your company.

Of course this was it. The nightmare would continue. Turning to the table you greeted them robotic-ally. As if they didn't all know your name already. While you passed them the menus it was if you didn't exist. Your eyes darted back and forth between each of them, barely a glance as they received the menu.

Your heart ached for the girl that was now your replacement. You could see from her face that she was running on fumes. You wondered how long Bucky had kept her up, breaking her in, if she tried to escape like you had.

A day out for you was normally a reward for good behavior, so she must be a 'Good Doll', you shuttered at the recollection.

"Long time no see!" Steve perked up when he finally turned his head to notice you. You had to ignore the prickles, control your nerves like you used to when you went out with Bucky, but he didn't look your way.

"I will be your server today. Is there anything I can start you off to drink with today?" Your voice came out as even as you could get it. Digging out your pen and pad, almost dropping it as you trembled.

"This is what you've been up to huh" Steve asked, his volume louder than others around him would like. He was the only one who seemed to care about your presence, the others just ignored you, going over the menus.

Your heart wanted to break through your chest as you tried to hold it together. When no one else seemed to care still, you could finally try to breathe properly. Bucky was too focused on his phone and from the subtle movements of his arm under the table, the girl fidgeting next to him.

* Just stick to the script don't engage in anything else.*

"I will give you folks a few minutes then come back to take your order."  you said ignoring him. Steve frowned at that, but you knew he wouldn’t move without Bucky’s order. Walking back you felt stiff and you were sure that sweat was seeping through your uniform.

🏢

You were a nerves wreck once you finally ducked into the little waitress nook by the kitchen. Scrubbing your face with your hands you took several deep breaths, the action not really taking the effect you wanted.

"Excuse me" her voice was barely above a whisper and though you never heard it you knew who it belonged to.

"Go back to your table Miss." you refused to look at her.

"Please you don't understand" her soft voice shook. You knew that if you looked, her face would be filled with tears. When she touched your shoulder you fell away tripping over your own feet as you rushed away. Finally you were face to face with her.

"I need your help, please" you were right she was crying.

"Get the hell away from me!" You pressed your back flat against the wall. Huddled in the corner as guilt and self preservation fought a battle inside of you.

"Everything alright back here?" Steve popped his head through the doorway.

"Y-yep.......just fine she needed to uhhh p-pee and I was just showing her the way" you felt your heart bash inside your chest once again. Steve wasn't stupid, but you prayed that he believed you.

With her back to Steve you knew that look and a part of you felt guilty for doing nothing. The young girl walked past you  to the restroom while Steve lingered in the hall. Lowering your gaze you peel yourself off the wall and slunk into the kitchen.

Steve followed, leaning in the archway of the kitchen. You tried to look busy and you were surprised that the cooks didn't ask him to leave. Even this far out their reach stretched you guessed.

"Can't speak to old an old friend?" Steve inquired.

"Steve, please..."

Steve may have looked sweet, but he was never one for sympathy.

"You're not in trouble I just came to say 'hi'."

*Bull shit*

He turned his head to see the young beauty leaving the restroom and you were glad. You didn't want to see him dragging her out if it came down to it.

*She must've run before.*

"Whelp it was nice talking to you again" he said as he followed arms length behind the girl.

🏢

"You folks ready to order" you forced another smile as you talked. It was almost eerie how they acted like any other customer. It was as if you hadn't known these men for the past five years. Each gave you their order. You served without any further incident.

When they finally left they even gave you a sizable tip. It seemed now that you were truly just a faded memory to Bucky.

🏢

Heading home on the train you couldn't wait to feed the alley cat friend you were trying to earn the trust of. Another day bringing him left over food from work.

"Here puss, puss" you called out to the darkened alleyway. Pinching off pieces of meat and tossing it about.

Your name was called out so you instinctively turned to find the sound. When your eyes found Steve you dropped everything you had and ran. You didn't know where you were going, shoving through various people as you booked it down the avenue.

The lights of a tea house caught your eye in the far distance. Dashing inside you try and calm down and walk to the bathroom hurriedly. Ducking into and locking one of the stalls you stood on the toilet seat and waited.

Hoping he didn't see which way you had gone.

The door to the restroom opened slowly, the sound of foot steps crept closer to your stall. Holding your hands over your mouth you tried to hold in your sobs. It was hard to control your breathing, you were panting heavily from the run. Even with your eyes squeezed shut you knew he was standing right in front of the stall you hid in.

"I know it's been a while...but you should know better than to run from me." His dark chuckle filled you with dread.

"You had fun right?"

🏢

The numbers ticked up in the metal lift slowly. The whole way up you looked down at your feet. Unable to bare the cocky look on Steve's face.

Stepping out of the elevator, the hall that led to the penthouse was long, but not enough. Steve moved from behind you and opened the door. The familiar cold chill of the penthouse hit you. Taking your shoes off at the door you walked over to the living room area.

"I'm really quite surprised. I thought you would've skipped town... Thought you would make me chase you half way around the world." Steve chuckled, that was the straw that broke the damn. Your face felt drenched, you had tried so hard not to cry in front of him, but once again you failed.

The past few months felt like a dream, in the back of your mind you knew it was a lie.

"You should probably get undressed." Steve ordered. You heard him shimmy out of his jacket, hanging it on the door as you sobbed.

Steve was just parroting orders from Bucky you were sure. It didn't matter that Steve was in the room, Bucky was what you were more worried about. He had let you go and for some reason he got his dog to drag you back. Steve's presence only added to the humiliation, defeat and soon further shame.

🏢

You stripped yourself of your clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on a pile next to the couch. The room felt colder, your skin and nipples prickled while you walked over to Bucky's chair.

Bucky had a favorite chair in the living room. A seat that was solely reserved for him and that is were you stood, naked while you waited for him to appear.

He normally was already sitting waiting. Not seeing him there didn't help stop the tears from flowing. Had you pissed him off at the diner? Had something happened to the girl? Did she tell him that she talked to you?

Behind the chair you were able to gaze at the city as you thought through each possible slight. Steve walked up from behind, placing a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump.

"Calm down he isn't here." Steve told you as he held up his hands in surrender, flopping down on the seat before you.

There had been many an occasion that you witnessed unknowing souls sit in Bucky's chair. The action seen by him as an unforgivable level of disrespect that made your stomach turn as he would rectify the slight.

The chair was Bucky's throne and only to be christened by him and him alone.

Steve's legs spread wide in defiance as he made himself comfortable as you tried to understand the sight of Bucky's most loyal man before you.

"Bucky won't like you in his chair." You warned.  His eye's went wide almost surprised by the sound of your voice.

"Hah... Bucks got you trained good" Steve lightly laughed. "Come have a seat."

You blinked at him as he craned his neck to admire the look of distress. Bucky was not one for sharing and you doubted he would be thrilled to see you naked and straddling Steve in his favorite chair.  

When you didn’t move Steve’s warm hands pulled you down, your knees folded at his sides. On the descent you gasped, your eyes wide with panic and confusion. His playful grin fueled by your dismay. The chair wined at the added weight and you were sure it would break from the way you struggled to escape it.

Steve's arms wrapped and rested around your hips, pulling you close, making your movements hard. Your legs were tucked and  pinned at his side, your frantic movements rousing something that made you shutter when you felt it. With what little space you could manage, your arms moved up to wrap around your chest in an effort to cover yourself and make a buffer.

🏢

"You know you were always my favorite." He spoke calmly while your whole body shook in fear. It was a nerves shake that Steve had witnessed many a times and from the glint in his eyes you knew he enjoyed it.

"So creative in your escapes, but just too sloppy at covering your tracks" he t'sked while the hiccups and tears intensified. Steve rocked you back and forth gently in his lap. The fabric of Steve's pants rubbed against your mound, the length of his cock pressed desperately against his zipper and he made sure you felt every inch.

"Remember that time you set the penthouse on fire. Good trick getting the firemen to get you out". He chuckled completely unbothered by your distress. Smiling up at you brightly as if he were talking to an old friend. His walk down memory lane was not as fondly remembered as yours.

"At the diner I was sure he would've flipped out when he saw you, but I guess he was just to preoccupied to notice." Steve gave you a playful wiggle of his brow. As he talked you bit back shame. The incessant movement stimulated your clit, you could feel a wetness growing at it was only a matter of time before he noticed it too.

"The new girl learned her lesson far too quickly for me. I let her take off once just for fun... Then she never did it again."

"He has someone new right? He doesn't need me." Your were a sniffling mess. You knew Steve long enough that your tears meant nothing to him, but that didn't stop you from pleading.

"Oh sweetie if you didn't know by now he didn't let you go."

Your mind was swirling. Steve orchestrated it all just to have 'fun'.

🏢

"I want you to look up." He requested and you looked at him confused. "Over there in the left corner." He nudged his head and your eyes looked in the direction.

Your heart sank to the floor. There was a camera, one you never noticed before. You felt sick. Was Bucky watching you? The optics of this situation you could only imagine.

As far as Bucky was concerned you had ran out on him and Steve was just doing his job bringing you back.

From that angle it would look like you walked in, stripped and got on top of him. That you were fucking him in Bucky's chair. Steve's eyes lit up as you put all the pieces together.

"I fucking hate you" You said softly. Your chin fell to your chest as you continued to bawl.

"Oh Sweetie I don't care. I can only imagine the look on his face right now." Steve ducked his head down to look you in the eye, confirming Bucky was indeed watching.

Taking your wrist he moved them behind your back, bonding them effortlessly with one hand. Steve was hell bent on making your bad situation worse. You needed to get free and get out.

Steve's head moved to nestle your breast, you tried to lift off your knees, but his thighs kept you trapped in the chair. You attempted to jerk your wrists free of his hold, but Steve only held tighter.

Steve wasn't afraid of reprisals from his boss. They had been friends from childhood, at most he would get a slap on the back if the head. While you shuddered to think of what he would do to you.

"Don’t worry we have time to play" he teased. You felt Steve's hot breath on your breast as he talked. When he licked and sucked at your nipple, taking it in-between his teeth, flicking his tongue on it you felt your arousal grow.

"Please Steve..stop" you panted out as heat rose throughout your neck. You felt his mouth smirk swirled around your nipple, his face nuzzled in your chest, inhaling deeply on yours skin as you rocked in his lap.

The chair groaning protests increased and you prayed that it would break, giving you a chance to be free. When your hands were suddenly released you pushed at his chest hard, surprisingly he fell back with a chuckle.

"Why can't you just let me go?" You slapped at his chest as Steve rose to his feet. The weight of your ass rested in his palms as you tried to force yourself down and out of his hold. You yelped when Steve pinched your ass hard, the sting a warning to stop. Though your movements didn't cause his hold to waver, it was as if you weighed nothing.

🏢

Steve liked you. He was normally indifferent to the women that Bucky would bring home, but you were different. He loved the way you cried for mercy then begged to cum. The shame in your eyes when he watched you submit.

Bucky had a habit of replacing his toys. So Steve waited patiently for Bucky to tire of you, but a man could only wait so long.

"How many times had you wished it were me?" He changed the subject. Gone was his playful smile, his face stoic and unreadable just like Bucky's.

"I saw how you looked at me... wanting my cock inside of you... What would Bucky think if he knew"  Steve purred.

You hadn't wanted Steve or any of this. It was just that his eyes were just that inescapable. Bucky's second set of eyes. Always through a cracked door, from the corner of a room, reflecting back at you from a mirror. His eyes haunted your sleep just as much as Bucky's did.

He turned slightly to open the door behind you. Once it opened you knew the room you were in, Bucky's bedroom. You had shared it with him, but nothing in it belonged to you. You were nothing more than a dog that was made to come happily whenever he called.

When Steve tossed you on the bed you bounced. You watched, frozen while he stripped at the foot of the bed.

🏢

His mouth moved, but if he was speaking you couldn't hear it. The pounding of your heart was so loud in your ears that you couldn't make out whatever he was saying.

Each step he took you pushed back on your hands, scooting backwards on the bed to get away. Your elbow hit the head board as he unhooked his belt and unfastened his pants.

The bed dipped as he placed a hand on it, you watched and time seemed to slow when he stretched out to snag your ankle. You took the bed covering with you when you clutched it as you twisted and turned to pull yourself out of his grip.

With one hard yank you laid flat out on your stomach. Steve couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of your ass jiggling as he played with you. When he let go you stumbled over yourself, pressing your back flush once again to the head board.

🏢

Bending over he dug something out of his discarded clothes. Standing straight you watched as he played with his phone. Steve tossed the device to you and you blinked at it wildly. "Bucky’s across town with his new girl. It would take a few hours to get here." You picked it up as he talked. You knew the spot on the map, the red indicator blinking Bucky's location.

"Tell you what. I will let you go. If you give me what I want and I won't come after you again." He offered. Flopping on the bed Steve's back faced you. It was a trap you knew it, but some semblance of hope still lived in you, so you sat quietly and listened.

"Or I can take what I want and then stand by when Bucky comes back." He laid out on top of the bed with his hands laced behind his head. Gripping the phone you contemplated quickly dialing the police, but you were sure they would never make it in time. And if they did by some miracle come, you couldn't guarantee they wouldn't be dirty anyway.

Swallowing thickly you placed the phone faced down on the mattress. Steve tilted his head and observed you, smiling at you expectantly when you started to move.

You tried to reason with yourself as you approached him. You prayed that he would indeed keep his side of the deal.

Steve unlaced his fingers as you rounded him and you felt your skin prickle all over again. The bed didn't make a sound as you haltingly swung your leg over his waist.

Your hands shook as you placed them on his bear chest. Despite the heat coming from Steve your shaking remained. Your stomach tensed when Steve's fingers trailed up your thigh and rested on your hips.

Holding you, Steve lowered you down, flicking his cock back and forth with one hand to align himself to your entrance. His tip played with your folds, the prodding brought a slickness from your core.

🏢

Steve loved the way you cried. The sight of your puffy face whenever you begged and pleaded.  He loved that despite all the fear there was a fire that wouldn't die no matter how hard his buddy tried to stomp it out.

"You mad things fun around here." Steve's tone lowered to a husky growl. His eyes turned their focus from your face to your breast as the feeling of utter defeat washed over you.

His cock pressed threateningly against your lips as your palms rested on his bare chest. Steve kept you paused in position, your thighs burned while you hovered in place. the trembling not unnoticed by Steve. Moving from his cock the one hand traveled upward, gently ghosting over your hip as it crept up your frame.

Bucky despite his distance stayed at the edge of your mind. You looked around the empty room, jumping at every odd noise. The paranoia in your eyes made Steve painfully hard, but he controlled himself as he explored you.

Steve's large hand encompassed your breast as he palmed it. Gliding his thumb over your hard nipple the soft fatty flesh bounced in his hand when you inhales sharply.

A very sensitive area he noted. He wanted to know every inch of you, what made you squirm, but that would have to wait until another time.

It made his cock twitch just thinking about it.

🏢

With one quick motion he forced you down. The plunge sent jolts deep. Your cervix ached with fullness as your stomach tensed and strained to adjust to him. Mewling through gritted teeth you sheathed him completely.

"Did Bucky fill you up this good?" He growled. Steve felt your cunt hug him tightly, the feel made him twitch inside of you. You grunted when Steve bucked his hips at your lack of reply. His cock strained against your core, you hadn't noticed your nails had dug into his chest. When he bucked again he let out a long drawn out his as your nails dragged against his flesh. The thin lines on his skin leaving a stinging reminder of you.

"No!" you sputtered out much to Steve's pleasure.

"Good girl" Steve praised.

You gasped out when he finally allowed you to rise up, but before you could relax he forced you back down again. Steve muscles flexed under your hands. His deep grunts growing in volume as he resisted the urge to flip you over and rail into you deeper.

"That's it, that's a good girl" he grunted. Steve controlled the momentum. Every downward motion sending jolts to your core. You rocked into him, his voice humming as your pussy clenched around him. "Who do you belong to?" He demanded, making sure to throw his hips hard with each syllable.

"Steve Fuck!" You let out a sharp gasp at the feel of the head of his cock hitting your ceiling. Steve sucked in his bottom lip slowly letting it drag out again, the way you grabbed made him groan with delight. The feel and sound of you struggling made him almost come right there.

Unlike Bucky, Steve was different. You could never read Bucky, every wrong move you made in his game was met with swift reprisals. While Steve read of an unabashed wild eagerness.

"Such a dirty whore just for me" He beamed as you bounced atop of him. His blonde tresses stuck messily to his glistening forehead. Your shamed dissolved into pleasure as your ass slapped against Steve.

The feel of him overwhelmed your senses. Your pussy squeezed, your climax barreling through you like a freight train.

"You know better than that." Steve swatted hard on your side. The sting still there as you forced back your need.

You choked down what was left of your shame and begged him. You needed to cum, the tight coil in your core threatened to burst.  

"Please.." You rasped out, looking away unable to face him. Steve reveled in your pathetic attempted to hide away from him. He felt you, there was no denying what you hungered for.

"please. ..Steve.. " you panted out. The sound of your sloppy sex and punishing manipulation was splintering in your womb.

"I need to come" You mewled.

Steve shot up, his massive arms wrapped around you, clutching your shoulders he shoved himself deep inside.

"Come on my cock" he commanded. Holding you down tight as he pumped his seed into you.

Your cunt milking out ever last drop as you both breathed heavily.

"Hey Buck... welcome home." Over your shoulder he stared deep into the eyes of Bucky as he coated your walls.

🏢

<<< Elevator

#Dark steve x reader #Dark!Steve x Reader #Dark!Steve #dark!steve x black reader #dark steve x black reader #dark steve x black!reader #dark!steve x black!reader #black writer

[yellowocaballero]

Percy Jackson meets a Landlord, a Tax Accountant, and a Tree Growing in Brooklyn

“Golduck, use hydro pump!” Percy whispered. He moved Golduck so he hit Batman on the chest, and then hit Batman a few more times for good measure. “Die, landlord!”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?”

Percy almost fell out of his chair. 

He twisted his torso around, looking behind him with wide eyes. But the only person there was a white girl, no older than him. She was wearing a really severe expression to match her tight little blonde ponytail, and she was carrying a clipboard in both hands. There was a piece of string tacked to the clipboard, with a pen tied around one end. She looked like she asked the school librarian if she could help shelve books. 

Percy decided instantly that she hated him, so he decided to hate her back. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing your taxes?” Percy sneered. “Buzz off.”

That made her mad. The girl’s angelic little chubby face twisted in rage, and her grip on the clipboard turned threatening. “I’m accounting the chores! And I could do taxes if I wanted!”

“Yeah?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Name one tax.”

“Sales tax,” the girl said instantly. 

Damn. She got that one.  

Short fic that I am considering extending into a much, much longer fic. Thank you Ami for the translation of the card (I would definitely translate it yourself, it’s important). The entire backstory and premise of the AU isn’t immediately apparent, but if I extend the fic it’ll be more explained (spoiler: Luke Castellan, age 14, said fuck Olympus and moved all of Camp Half-Blood into Brooklyn to live in a child-run utopia). I haven’t reread Percy Jackson since I was 10, I barely remember anything that happens or any of the characters, so don’t expect much - but aren’t the best children’s novels the children’s novels that live in our head, anyway?

Rest under the cut. 

2005

180 Olive Apartments was a dump. Batman said so.

Batman felt very strongly about this, and as a result Percy did too. It was not Percy’s own, private, personal opinion. Batman informed Percy that the apartment complex was shabby, gross, not in Staten island, and smelled weird. Batman made a very convincing argument that they should live in Staten Island instead, which Percy had done his best to relay to Mom. Mom hadn’t been impressed. 

“This is the best place for us, Percy,” Mom had said, with that pinched look on her face. It was the ‘Percy’s Making My Life Really Hard’ face. Percy had been seeing that face a lot lately. “Let’s just try to make this work, please?”

There was no ‘best place’ for them, and Percy and Batman knew that. But that was another thing Mom didn’t want to hear. 

So Percy had suffered in stoic silence as Mom dragged him out of the motel, made him miss the new episode of Pokemon, and forced him to ride the subway forty minutes into smelly Brooklyn so he could sit in this smelly chair outside of some smelly office in a smelly apartment. From inside the office, Percy could hear the faint rise and fall of voices: Mom’s, light and lyrical and very polite to people who were not Percy; and some landlord guy. His voice was really light and high too, but he was probably a real jerk.

Percy was so bored he could die. He sat up on his knees, turning around so he could prop his elbows against the dusty windowsill with grimy frosted glass. He plopped Batman down on the dirty windowsill, smearing his chipped feet through the tracks of dust. Parkour. He unzipped his pocket and grabbed his slightly dusty Golduck rubber toy, putting it in front of Batman. Golduck was from McDonald’s, so it had a bad attitude. 

Percy waggled Batman. You have a bad attitude, Golduck. You can’t live in my house anymore, because you get water all over the tile and you make the wood go bad. 

Golduck jiggled when Percy shook him. It wasn’t Golduck’s fault that the water went everywhere! Water just goes places sometimes. Golduck was a water type, so water followed him around and got into wood and made the wood go bad and made other people mad at him. It’s not Golduck’s fault, so don’t make him move!

I don’t want to hear it, Batman said. I’m going to make you live in a crummy motel and make your Mom go on a lot of boring websites looking for new places to live. The motel’s bananas are going to taste weird. Mom’s going to cry a lot. And it’ll be all your fault because you’re a bad kid. 

“Golduck, use hydro pump!” Percy whispered. He moved Golduck so he hit Batman on the chest, and then hit Batman a few more times for good measure. “Die, landlord!”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?”

Percy almost fell out of his chair. 

He twisted his torso around, looking behind him with wide eyes. But the only person there was a white girl, no older than him. She was wearing a really severe expression to match her tight little blonde ponytail, and she was carrying a clipboard in both hands. There was a piece of string tacked to the clipboard, with a pen tied around one end. She looked like she asked the school librarian if she could help shelve books. 

Percy decided instantly that she hated him, so he decided to hate her back. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing your taxes?” Percy sneered. “Buzz off.”

That made her mad. The girl’s angelic little chubby face twisted in rage, and her grip on the clipboard turned threatening. “I’m accounting the chores! And I could do taxes if I wanted!”

“Yeah?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Name one tax.”

“Sales tax,” the girl said instantly. 

Damn. She got that one. Percy just rolled his eyes instead, sitting back down on his seat and stuffing his toys in his cargo pocket. He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, even if he knew that he wasn’t too old to play with Batman and Golduck. What did tax accountants know, anyway. 

The girl sniffed, and made a show of inspecting the grimy windowsill and carefully making a note on her clipboard. Her pen had a pom-pom at the end. Percy bet she made hearts over the top of her ‘i’s. 

“Nick’s been slacking,” the girl muttered threateningly. “I’m surrounded by incompetents.”

“Why is it Nick’s job to clean the leasing office?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a janitor for that?” Was Nick the janitor? If this pinched-face little girl was harassing cleaning staff then Percy was going to file a complaint.

But the girl just looked surprised, as if the idea of having a janitor was foreign and strange. “No janitor would even make it through the doors.” But then her eyes narrowed, as if a thought just occurred to her. “Wait. How did you…”

However Percy did what, he would never know. The door to the leasing office cracked open, and Percy scrambled off his seat in excitement. The girl stood stiffly at attention, clipboard on her hip, as Mom stepped out of the office. She looked very tired, but weirdly relieved.

There was a man right behind her, just as white and blonde as the girl. Percy wasn’t surprised: he could pick out a real ‘daughter-of-the-manager’ type right away. The man didn’t look like every other landlord Percy had ever seen - no moustache, for one - and he didn’t look old enough for the part anyway. He wasn’t old, but he definitely wasn’t an elementary schooler. He had a broad, honest face, but he was too muscular and strong looking and landlordey to be trustworthy. 

 Percy decided the weird landlord, with a mop of yellow hair like golden thread and a scary eyebrow with one long scar cutting straight through, was twenty five years old. Clearly the result of nepotism in the landlord industry.

Mom smiled when she saw Percy, who quickly pasted on his most innocent expression. Her eyes caught on the girl, who was glaring daggers at him. The landlord’s eyes caught on Percy’s own wrinkled nose. “Percy, good! Are you making friends?”

It was not an innocent question. It was a ‘please don’t ruin this for me too, Percy’ question. It was a ‘I’m very tired and I need you not to make things hard’ question. Percy was well acquainted with them. But maybe the girl was too, because when the landlord looked at the girl she also abruptly quailed. “I hope you’re being a good host, Annabeth.”

The unfortunately named Annabeth and Percy glanced at each other in silent and instant understanding. 

“Yeah, Annabeth’s really fun!” Percy said instantly. He was not going to ruin this for Mom again. Or, at least, he would try to hold off ruining it for her as long as possible. Even if this stupid apartment wasn’t in Staten island. “She was telling me about -”

“Taxes!” Annabeth said smoothly, a much better liar than Percy. “And Percy was telling me about Batman.”

They both looked very cute and very low matinence on command, the perfect picture of children who did not make their moms live in motels. 

Percy was rewarded when Mom smiled in relief. She put a hand on Percy’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “I’m so glad. Percy, this is Mr. Castellan. Why don’t you say hi?”

“Hi Mr. Castellan,” Percy said obediently. “My name’s Percy Jackson, I’m in third grade.”

The landlord smiled at him with closed and tight lips, but it was Annabeth who spoke in interest. “Percy like Percival, King Arthur’s knight who searched for the Holy Grail?”

Uh, whatever? “Percy like the Greek hero Perseus,” Percy said shortly. “But I’m not Greek. My Grandma was from Guadalajara.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. She glanced at the landlord, whose expression was impossible to read. “Are you sure?”

“I know where my own grandmother is from!”

“She didn’t say that you didn’t, sweetie,” Mom said, and Percy guiltily shut up. “Percy, why don’t you and Mr. Castellan talk in his office for a little while? I have to fill out some paperwork, and I think you two have a lot to talk about.”

Percy looked up at her with wide eyes. Mom never left him alone with strangers. And paperwork already? “Are we moving in today?”

“You two talk for a bit,” Mom said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”

When Percy was pushed into Mr. Castellan’s office it felt more like he was a Roman Christian being tossed into the lion’s den in punishment for heresy. And when Mom settled him into an uncomfortable and weird-smelling chair in front of the teetering desk and kissed him on the temple before leaving the office, he abruptly felt like he had jumped into Grandma’s book of Bible Stories. 

Mr. Landlord’s office was as dirty and run-down as the rest of the complex. The big box AC rattled with clinks and whirrs as it shuddered against the sticky summer heat, and the landlord’s desk was covered in thick stacks of paper and chewed-up pencils. When he sat back down behind the stained wood, the chair seemed just a little too big for him. He sunk strangely in it, the vinyl flaking off and floating into the ground. There were a lot of crayon drawings taped to the wall, and there was a light dusting of crumpled post-it notes on the ground. 

Mr. Landlord tried to smile at Percy. Tried being the operative word: when he smiled it was too thin and without teeth, more pained than reassuring. It didn’t reach his watery blue eyes. 

Percy hunched on the rickety chair. This guy set off every alarm bell he had, which was plenty. And no, it wasn’t just because he was a guy, Ms. Brown. For added security and self defense, Percy casually slid a capped ballpoint pen on the old desk in front of him into his sleeve. Batman was always prepared, and Percy was too. He can hack up any creepy guy and protect Mom any day of the week. 

The landlord smiled wider, even worse. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Luke Castellan, and I’m the supervisor here. Running into Annabeth first thing’s pretty bad luck, huh?” At Percy’s unimpressed eyebrow, he quickly added, “Annabeth keeps the whole place running, really. She’s...pretty convinced that this complex rests on her eight year old back, so she’s a little stressed out all the time. If she gets frustrated at you, don’t take it personally, okay?”

So she does help shelve books. Percy was a keen judge of character. “Why does she do it? You can’t make her be the superintendent. That’s child labor.”

Luke Castellan stared at Percy unblinkingly. He blinked about as often as a snake, but five times as quickly: as if he didn’t want to let you out of his sight for even a second. Finally, he said, “I’m fifteen.”

Percy gave Mr. Luke the stink-eye, clearly communicating that he did not trust even fifteen year olds (who were high schoolers, and even less trustworthy than adult-adults) as far as he could throw them. Especially fifteen year olds like Luke: who were too tall, with too-mature eyes and a particularly unhappy expression. Percy communicated perfectly that there was nothing trustworthy about this family of juvenile landlords, but he was just too polite to say so. 

But that just made Mr. Luke sigh, as if he was tired instead of angry. “Annabeth’s my...ward, I guess. I just look after her. But she doesn’t like being looked after, so she makes up for it by looking after everyone else. I’m not saying I do a good job.”

He’s a landlord and he has a ward? Percy finally perked up. “So you’re like Batman?”

Mr. Luke stared at him unblinkingly, before finally saying, “Yes, except Batman doesn’t have superpowers.”

Percy had the sense he was being made fun of. “You don’t have super powers,” he accused, crossing his arms. “Nobody has super powers.”

Mr. Luke smiled, wan and weak. “Not even you, Percy?”

Percy froze. 

Five seconds too late, Percy made himself laugh stupidly. People were quick to believe that Percy was stupid, and sometimes Percy helped them think that. It got him out of trouble sometimes - not always, but enough that it was useful. “If I had superpowers, I’d run super fast everywhere just like the Flash!”

But Mr. Luke just hummed, and flipped through some of the papers in a folder in front of him. Percy abruptly began sweating. Mom had given him those papers. They were records. This was like every time a principal had drawn up ‘proof’ against him in a court of law. “Your mom said that you both had to move out of your Queens apartment because it flooded.”

“I didn’t unscrew the taps,” Percy said reflexively. “They just came loose! I didn’t even touch them! I didn’t touch the boiler either!”

“The boiler?” Mr. Luke flipped back a few pages. “Oh, right. Your school.”

Percy slouched in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, stewing. He always sounded guiltiest when he denied it. He should go back to playing dumb. Pretend that he had no idea what water was. He had gotten away with it when he was six during that one birthday party at the aquarium, but something about being a third grader meant that people expected that you have basic observational skills. 

It was stupid. There was no way to win. If he said that he didn’t do it then he sounded guilty. If he tried to point out how it was impossible for him to break the boiler and destroy the gym or whatever, using facts and logic and a rhetorical argument like the Youtube videos taught him, then they just told him he was making excuses. Sometimes Percy had the impression that everybody just wanted him to supervillain cackle like the Joker and brag about how terrible he was. Maybe he’d give that a shot once he entered middle school. It seemed like an evil teenage thing to do. 

Percy Jackson was a liar, a thief, a cheat, a menace, and a bad kid. There was nothing more to be: not for someone like Percy. 

But Mr. Luke didn’t threaten him, or give him ‘one last chance’ or anything. He just leaned forward, hands folded on the desk. His thumb was worrying at a small starburst scar on his hand, betraying a strange nervousness. 

“Percy, can I talk to you man-to-man?”

Percy, who did not like men, squinted at Mr. Luke suspiciously. “Why.”

“Because this isn’t a topic for a kid. It’s a topic that...kills children, and turns them into little adults. I wish I didn’t have to broach it with you. But I think that you haven’t been a kid for a long time, Percy, and I don’t want to insult you by pretending otherwise.” Mr. Luke frowned, and Percy found himself involuntarily straightening. What was he talking about? “You were right. There was no way for you to have flooded your apartment, much less twice. There was no way for you to ruin your gym, or damage that aquarium. Much less...everything else in your file. No kid is that much of a miniature hurricane when he isn’t even trying. It sucks. It’s not your fault. And now your Mom’s credit score is so bad that she can’t afford another apartment. If it wasn’t for the fact that she saw our really generous listing in the paper, she would have had to move you two away from her home.”

She was thinking of moving them both to New Jersey. Percy’s lips tightened, and he knew that Mr. Luke saw it. 

“This is an apartment building that provides shelter to a lot of special cases, just like you. It’s...full of kids who break things when they don’t mean to. Kids with a parent couldn’t handle them, or who couldn’t protect them. We have a lot of ways to keep families like yours safe, and to give you a home.”

Percy stared at Mr. Luke. He seemed deadly serious, as serious as anybody had ever been to Percy, despite the crazy stuff he was saying. Safe? Safe from what?

Safe from those weird, giant dogs that chased Percy and tore off half his jeans? Safe from that old lady in the deli with the slobbering bag and beady eyes? Safe from broken water pipes, from ruined floors and busted walls, from Percy himself? 

Finally, all Percy could think to ask was, “How do you know that I’m a special case?”

“Because not just anyone could see that listing,” Mr. Luke said. “And - uh, no offense - but you are one of the most obviously inhuman children I’ve met in my life.”

Percy’s jaw dropped in complete, unadulterated rage, and without even stopping to think through his actions he withdrew the ballpoint pen from his pocket. He uncapped it, fully intending on doing something dramatically yet harmlessly violent with it, but he didn’t get the chance. 

The ballpoint pen turned into a gleaming bronze and silver sword. Percy screamed. Percy fell out of his chair. Percy did not get the opportunity to look cool and dangerous at all.

****

And now Percy had Greek god stuff to worry about!

Didn’t Percy have enough problems? He couldn’t stay in a school, they couldn’t keep an apartment, their new landlord didn’t blink enough, and now he was the kid of a Greek god? Apparently he had been spending his entire life running from monsters and he just hadn’t noticed? That explained the stupid scary dog!

Percy knew much more about Greek gods than the average kid, since Mom was a huge fan. Yeah, Mom! Apparently you were a big fan! Jesus, Mom!

What’s this dumb stuff about Poseidon! That had freaked out Mr. Luke, and made him ask a lot of questions like ‘are you sure’ and ‘there’s a lot of minor gods who like to pass themself off as someone more impressive to mortals’. Then Annabeth, who had been listening at the door like a sneak and who ran in all heroically when he almost accidentally stabbed Mr. Luke, freaked out and called his mom a liar. His mom!

Then Percy tried to stab her with his new sword. Mom made Percy apologize for trying to stab Annabeth. Mr. Luke made Annabeth apologize for insulting Percy’s mother. Percy was beginning to worry that he and Annabeth may be mortal enemies. 

Mr. Luke had tried explaining a bunch of stuff about monsters and ‘the Sight’ and why Percy’s life was terrible to him, but Percy already knew his life was terrible and he wasn’t interested. Percy ended up furiously swinging his new sword at a tree outside as Mom signed a bunch of forms and talked with Mr. Luke some more, but she hustled him home pretty quickly afterwards. 

Percy didn’t give the sword back. Mr. Luke, wisely, did not ask for it back.

Mom kept on making a face on the subway back to the motel like she had been waiting her entire life for Percy to ask all of these questions, and she was preparing herself for it. She kept on glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, watching Percy kick his feet against the hard plastic seat. It was obvious. But Percy didn’t have anything to say to her. They spent the rest of the day in silence, just focusing on packing up and getting everything ready to move. Jacksons were practical, Mom said. 

Jacksons were practical. Percy was practical, too. It was only in the deep pits of night, as Percy lay in bed holding up his sword and watching it reflect the soft lamplight above the creaky wooden table where Mom was doing work, that he asked. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sword was really cool. It was pure bronze, with the middle gleaming pure silver. There was some Greek writing inscribed down the center that Percy had no idea how to read, although he had spent an hour scouring the internet looking for a translation. The handle was tough white cord, stiff and starchy but fraying a little at the edges. 

Mr. Luke said it was named something, but Percy forgot what it was. He had been a bit busy almost impaling the guy. 

Mom’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but her spine was stiff and rigid. 

Finally, after a long silence, she said, “I didn’t want you to think that there was anything different about you.”

“So what?” Percy asked, his eyes pricking rebelliously. Stupid water. “You let me think that I was a bad person who ruined your life?”

“Percy, no!” Mom turned around, expression crumpled. The dim light showed the heavy bags under Mom’s eyes in sharp relief. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. None of this is your fault, you understand? That’s what this business with your father means: that none of it was your fault. That’s all it means.”

If that was true, Percy thought, then why couldn’t she have told him before?

But Percy was afraid that if he said that, then he would start crying, and Percy was way too old to cry. Only weak little babies cried. 

“I’m sorry my dad’s a loser who ruined your life, Mom,” Percy said.

“Percy…”

But Percy refused to answer her, putting his sword down next to him and pretending to go to sleep. He kept it next to him in bed all night, gripping its hilt tight, and the firm and cool pressure of the steel in his hand soothed him when the thought of a father didn’t. 

***

They moved in the next day.

The next day! Percy was livid. He barely had any time to pack up his toys into his backpack, and Mom didn’t even have time to help him back up his blue Spider-man suitcase. He had to do it all by himself, and then Mom came in and told him he was folding everything up wrong and that he had to redo it. If she had so many problems with it, she should have helped him and gave him more than one day to move out of their dumb motel! 

When people moved on TV there were always moving vans and buff dudes in baseball caps. But Percy was much better at moving then any of those idiots: all it took was a suitcase (of clothes and toiletries and stuff) and a backpack (of toys and school supplies and stuff). 

Percy’s backpack had the Power Rangers on it, in glossy plastic. Its contents were always the same, through every move: Batman, Golduck, Bulbasaur, Blue Eyes White Dragon, Raphael, a stegosaurus with a missing tail named Hedward, and a little book full of pictures of him and his mom and some cards and stuff. There was a picture of him and Grandma in the apartment in Staten Island that he lived in until he was six, and a 5th birthday card she had given him six months before she died. Written inside, in her looping and faded script, was a sentence Percy had read over and over and over again. ‘Tu angel de la guarda trabaja horas extra por tí. Así que acuérdate de decirle gracias ¿Sí, mi niño?'’

Percy was inclined to agree with her. God should pay his guardian angel overtime. That, or pay one to go to Olympus and collect child support.

The image was funny to Percy - the idea of his angel with her wings and halos showing up at Poseidon’s door and tapping her watch as she held out her hat. It was so funny, it was the first thing he told Mr. Luke when they met him at the gates to the apartment complex. Mom was huffing behind him with her two suitcases, while Percy was busy juggling his own backpack, suitcase, and sword. 

Mr. Luke looked alarmed to see the both of them, although Mom had called ahead and arranged to meet him here. Worse, Annabeth was next to him, still holding a clipboard. She didn’t look alarmed, just mad. 

“Did you bring Riptide onto public transportation?” Annabeth squawked. “You have no sense of discretion!”

Was Riptide the name of the sword? Whatever. Percy would have named it Hurricane. “I know words you don’t know too, you don’t have to brag,” Percy said flatly. 

“Yeah, the gods are filthy little child support evaders,” Mr. Luke said easily, instantly endearing himself to Percy. Mom rolled her eyes as she put her suitcases down, but she was clearly fighting a smile. “Don’t worry, I dragged them to court. Sued them for all they’re worth.”

“How on earth did you do that?” Mom asked, interested. 

“Trickery and rhetoric,” Annabeth said proudly.

“Swords,” Mr. Luke said. 

“What did you squeeze them for?” Percy asked, excited. 

Mr. Luke winked. And he still didn’t ask for his sword back. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. 

The apartment complex itself wasn’t nearly as big as a lot of Brooklyn complexes, looking more like the little apartment complexes in Queens that Percy was used to. It was three separate three-story buildings arranged in a square, with one side holding the small leasing office and a parking lot. It was open-air, with the apartment doors opening directly outside. There was a really big courtyard in the center, and despite himself Percy got a little excited.

It was awesome. There was a huge, sprawling tree right in the center of the courtyard. It was gigantic, bigger than any tree Percy had ever seen in his life. It seemed like it didn’t even belong in New York, like it was a transplant from the California Redwoods or Canada or something. Its leaves were waving in a nonexistent breeze, and something about it just seemed so magical and otherworldly to Percy. 

But that was only half of the awesome things. The other awesome thing was that there were kids everywhere.

The tree provided shade to a couple scattered gangs of kids, sitting around and laughing. There was a rusty set of monkey bars, which some kids were playing on, and there was a big dirt rectangle where other kids were hitting each other on the head with wooden plastic swords. There were groups of girls eating lunch, and a gang of boys playing soccer in the corner that made Percy immediately want to jump in and play too. Percy dominated at soccer. 

“The East and South buildings are where we all live,” Annabeth informed Mom. “The West building is where the training rooms and storage rooms and administrative rooms - that’s my office - and everything is. It also has guest units for the local spirits that like to visit. We just had ten Bacchae stay for a week. They were backpacking to Woodstock. We have very good inter-community relationships here.”

“That’s amazing,” Mom said faintly. Mr. Luke was smiling faintly, eyes fixed on the big tree. Percy found himself staring at Mr. Luke, watching with interest the soft but firm pride in his eyes. “Luke said that this property’s safe from…” 

She glanced at Percy quickly, cutting herself off. But Annabeth just huffed. 

“I almost got eaten by monsters twenty times when I was seven,” Annabeth informed Mom imperiously. “We’re not babies. Connor Stoll says if you’re old enough to get eaten by monsters then you’re old enough to know that they exist.”

Percy decided immediately that he liked Connor Stoll, and maybe even Annabeth too. 

“The tree protects us,” Luke said. “Wherever the tree is, we’re safe. Not even the gods date step foot beyond the leasing office here.”

“Because of the tree?” Mom asked. 

Luke smiled - sharp, piercing, and strange. “Sure, let’s say that.”

But Mom just frowned. She looked over the courtyard of kids - some of whom were already starting to whisper and stare. Annabeth waved at a gaggle of identically blonde children, and for the first time Percy wondered who she was the daughter of. Probably the bossiest god. Maybe Athena. Or, like, Hephaestus. Definitely Hephaestus. 

“You said that there’s nobody over eighteen here,” Mom said to Luke. “Luke, there’s a six year old on those monkey bars.”

“If you’re under thirteen, you live with someone over thirteen,” Luke said to her. Annabeth was still frowning in disapproval at Percy’s sword. He stuck his tongue out at her. “Two people to a unit, we try to pair the oldest with the youngest. Lucy lives with Henrique, he’s seventeen. It’s the best we can do.”

“Surely there has to be someone…?”

“Adults have never helped us. They never will.” Luke looked away sharply. “We’ve been in Brooklyn a year. You’re the first adult who’s made her way here. Most other parents with a kid as powerful as Percy would have -”

He cut himself off sharply, glancing at Percy, and Percy scowled up at him. He thought that Luke was being honest. Maybe he was just another old guy afraid to say what everybody else knew. 

“I’ll help Ms. Jackson settle in,” Annabeth said suddenly. She held out her hands to Percy, who reflexively hugged his luggage to his chest. “You guys are in unit 5. It’s on the bottom floor. If you flood it, then we can fix it okay. Give me your luggage, I’ll put it in your unit.”

Percy stared at her, overwhelmed with that simple signal of care. No threats about if he flooded it, no warnings or sickly sweet faux-concern. Just understanding, and acceptance. 

He silently gave her his bags. 

She seemed surprised when she felt how light they were. Percy shrugged awkwardly at her face, crossing his arms tightly around her chest. “Don’t touch my stuff, okay?”

“Sure,” Annabeth said, before pausing a beat. “We have a TV in our place. #1. Do you want to come over tonight and watch Winx Club?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, overwhelmed. “Sure.”

Mr. Luke put a hand on Percy’s back as Annabeth guided Mom to a corner unit. Percy couldn’t help but notice that the door to the unit was already propped open. Wait - there were people going in and out!

There was a tall, buff teenager, carrying two chairs underneath each arm. There was another group of three teenage girls, carrying a table between them. Two other younger kids were carrying boxes and laughing. They were bringing everything into the unit, and other younger kids were running in and out with cleaning supplies. 

From a distance, Percy saw Mom stop in her tracks. Annabeth tugged at her shirt and got her to bend down, whispering something in her ear. A boy with sandy brown hair ran up, taking Mom’s suitcases from her and bringing them into the unit. 

“Your Mom mentioned that you were missing some furniture,” Mr. Luke said. “The Hermes and Aphrodite kids all pitched in to get your home looking like a home. I hope you’ll like it.”

Percy clutched his sword to his chest, speechless. 

Mr. Luke smiled down at him, that same wan and weak smile, and put a hand on his back. He gently pushed Percy forward, towards the tree. “Come with me for a minute?”

They silently approached the sprawling, ancient tree. As they came closer, Percy could see that its bark was gnarled and knotted, with perfect handholds for climbing and perfect boughs for resting in the summer sun. He could already see a few kids resting in high boughs, taking a nap in the humid and sticky sun. 

“Percy, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Mr. Luke’s voice was quiet, like he was in church. He looked up at the tree, peering far into the leaves as if he was trying to find something hidden within them. “This is Thalia. Thalia, this is Percy. He’s the newest member of the family. He’s also your cousin.”

Cousin? Percy looked up at Mr. Luke, eyes wide. “I’m related to a tree?”

Tilted up at the tree, Percy couldn’t see Mr. Luke’s expression. Maybe that was on purpose. “Thalia’s a kid, just like us. Daughter of Zeus. I used to think that she was the closest thing to an adult I knew, but...I’m as old as she is, now. I guess one day soon I’ll be older than she ever got to be.” 

Oh. The tree was, like, from the ashes of some dead girl. Awkward. Percy stared at the thick and arching roots of the tree, feeling weird.

“Thalia, please protect Percy. I can already tell that he’s going to grow up to be very strong and brave. Please help us make sure that Percy never has to be strong. That he’s never brave. I can already tell he’s going to need a lot of your help.” He looked down at Percy for the first time, and for the first time Percy could see just a little warmth in those icy blue eyes. “You’re going to have to work overtime for him. So make sure to say thank you, Percy. Okay?”

“Thank you, Thalia,” Percy said obediently. He bowed awkwardly, uncertain what to do. The sword scraped awkwardly against his thigh. “Thanks for letting me into your home.”

“Welcome home, Percy,” Mr. Luke said, and for the first time Percy almost believed it. 

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #luke castellan #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #I'm bouncing between a lot of different projects right now and trying to decide which one to dedicate time to #I promise I DID take a break and I will CONTINUE TO DO SO because work's been exhausting #but sometimes that means just writing low-effort self-indulgent stuff #anyway my friend had to sit down and explain the worldbuilding of pjo to me and I was like WOW THATS FUCKED so I wrote this #I also dislike some of the ways that pjo handled percy's backstory so that's being addressed #my writing #I FORGOT THE CUT LOL

[knivesareout]

take on the world - chapter two

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (m receiving), protected p in v, alcohol consumption, bad banter, possible typos

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Aaaand here’s chapter two! I finally decided to work on an outline for this and it made things much smoother so go me! The angst will, unfortunately, come in at some point so enjoy these two while they’re being hopelessly cute. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

CHAPTER ONE | MASTERLIST

---

Wednesday rolls around quicker than you thought it would and your work day goes by even faster.

Your walk home is quiet and you enjoy the peaceful atmosphere; it wasn’t often that the sidewalks weren’t crowded with groups of people trying to get somewhere in a hurry. You were in a blissful state at the idea of seeing Frankie again and nothing was going to change that.

There wasn’t much you could compare this feeling to- this feeling you had about Frankie. All of your past relationships were one and done, if you could even call them relationships. A few dates, a hook-up, and usually that was it. Nothing clicked and it was always mutual. Only one guy had gotten further than that but only barely. He’d managed about 4 dates in total until you realized you were the one carrying the conversations, that you had nothing in common, and the only thing you could remember about him was that he hated fish. Relationships seemed more trouble than they were worth.

None of those feelings were present when you thought about Frankie. So, what was it about him that made you feel so different? So willing to let your guard down?

Was it the fact that he sounded genuinely interested in your thoughts, feelings, and passions? The fact that he was willing to be open about himself and tell you things other than the shallow, on the surface stuff? That you could talk all night and not run out of things to say? There had yet to be any sort of awkward silence between you two- both of you eager to fill the space with something funny or just a random thought, slowly learning one another.

Two dates, dozens of texts and a couple phone calls and you were already falling deep. The phone call only the night before had lasted until 2am, Frankie regaling stories from his army buddies that had you in stitches. It felt too soon to even think about but the thought was there, in the back of your mind. Was this love? Everything about this entire situation was foreign to you but welcome in a way that it usually wasn’t.

If this was even close to what falling in love was like, why hadn’t you tried sooner? Maybe it was because you hadn’t even been trying this time- Frankie had just fallen into your lap, rescued you really, and it felt like some kind of universal sign to try. Except it didn’t even feel like trying with him because it all came so natural to you.

It seemed to make the most sense for Frankie to come to your place for dinner that night since he already knew where you lived. Your apartment was thankfully previously cleaned up and you were glad for the chores you’d already taken care of earlier in the week so that was at least one less stressor.

Frankie had called on your lunch break to tell you he was grocery shopping for dinner, asking your opinions on what sounded good and if you had any allergies.

A soft sigh passes through your lips as you push into your apartment, kicking the door closed, tossing your bag on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and all but collapsing on your couch. Nerves were starting to eat at you and you scream loudly into the cushion, your legs thrashing behind you.

It takes a few moments for you to try and collect yourself, your heart still beating quickly from your anxiousness and it slowly starts ebbs away as you breathe deep and the tension releases, your cheek smushed on the couch cushion and you sigh.

“Fuck.”

Changing into something more comfortable than the work clothes you’d been in, you pull on a pair of leggings and a sweater. As much of a date this was, you were also in the comfort of your own apartment and weren’t about to dress up just to sit on the couch and eat dinner while you watched a movie with Frankie.

You busy yourself with watching YouTube videos on your TV for the next couple of hours, curled under a soft blanket while you wait for a text from Frankie. The distraction was needed because you knew the more time alone with your thoughts, the more time you’d overthink everything and make it worse.

Now time seems to creep slowly, your eyes drifting towards the time on your phone. The nerves are slowly creeping back in and it’s jarring for your phone to start vibrating when it does, your heart beating quickly.

“Hey,” you answer, “Are you here?”

Frankie grunts through the speaker and you laugh quietly, “Yeah. Do you need to buzz me up? Someone in your lobby is eyeing me weirdly since I can’t figure out how to get in and my hands are full of groceries.”

You jump up quickly and head to the buzzer on your door, balancing the phone on your shoulder. “Yeah, just push the button for 1202 and I’ll let you in. 12th floor.”

“See you in a sec,” he tells you and hangs up. The buzzer comes through seconds later and you hit the button in front of you, going to unlock your front door while you wait.

The silence of your apartment suddenly feels stifling and you pull up Spotify on your tv, playing Fleetwood Mac to fill the room. It feels better at least and you slowly start to sway with the music. You wonder what it’s like to dance with him, if he was silly about it or had rhythm in his hips. The smile on your face is probably comical at the thought but a knock breaks you out of your day dream and you rush towards the door, pulling it open quickly to see him smiling.

Your heart squeezes at the sight and you move to the side to let him in, shutting it behind closed and flipping the lock.

“Got enough there?”

Frankie’s arms are laden with bags and you can’t figure out what he’s going to be making when he goes to set them on the counter and turns to you. “I sure as hell hope so,” he chuckles, motioning for you.

It’s easy to fall into his arms. They squeeze tight around you in greeting and you turn your head to place a kiss to his jaw, the one spot you’re now determined to kiss every time you see him. He feels warm and smells great and you dig your nose into his chest, the softness of his t-shirt, and his chest rumbles as he laughs at you.

“You good there?” His voice is teasing and you mumble an affirmative, not quite ready to let go.

You finally pull back from his embrace to lean against the counter opposite him, kicking his shoe with your bare foot. “Get comfortable while I go through these.”

Frankie rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything while you start to pull out what looks like pizza ingredients. Sauce, pre-made dough, and every topping you could ever imagine.

“I’m guessing you can’t really cook,” you turn over your shoulder to look at him now in just his socks with his jacket thrown over a barstool at your kitchen island and he shrugs helplessly.

“What makes you say that?” He tries to look indignant but he breaks the facade seconds later. “Not really. I had to call a friend and ask for help and he suggested just ordering pizza so at least this is an upgrade right?”

The thought really is sweet and you nod quickly, hoping to appease the bit of nerves you can see creeping in over his expression.

Frankie tugs his hat off and runs a hand through his hair before readjusting it back on top of his head. It’s a nervous tick he does and one you’d picked up on at the bar when you’d met him.

“I’ve honestly never done this? Like, made pizza before. Have you?”

Frankie shakes his head in reply, “Can’t be that hard, can it? Seems pretty easy.”

He shuffles over towards you and pulls the rest of the ingredients out- different types of cheeses, some oil, and a couple spices you don’t recognize. Two bottles of wine are in the last bag and you raise your eyebrows until you spot the 6 pack of beer that he’d left by the door.

He looks over everything spread out on the island and turns to you sheepishly. “Well, maybe we should look it up.”

---

The pizza doesn’t turn out to be all that hard to make and Frankie teases you about your lack of toppings- basic cheese with a few scattered veggies. His is loaded and probably weighs twice as much as yours does but he insists it’s better like that, pinching your ass as you walk away to let them cook.

Your music still plays softly in the background and Frankie collapses on your couch, tugging his hat off and tossing it on the coffee table. You like how comfortable he seems in your place, and you sway softly to the music, just looking at him.

Frankie catches you staring, a curious look in his eye and he laughs. “What are you looking at?”

“Come dance with me.” You’re still slowly moving to the music, the song switching to Tiny Dancer, and you hold your hand out for him with a pleading look. “Please.”

You watch him hesitate, debating with himself until he pushes up from the couch and takes your hand in his. “I don’t really dance,” he tells you, a hand going to your hip while his other clutches yours.

Cautiously, you both move around the small space in your apartment. It’s careful and quiet, Frankie giving your hip a squeeze. It brings your attention to him and he nudges his nose with yours. “You know what I was just thinking?”

“Hm?”

“That I haven’t kissed you yet. You kiss me where I can’t grow facial hair but you won’t kiss my lips.”

He’s teasing you again and you step on his toe, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your thumb brushes against the spot in question, the skin there smooth.

“Shit head,” he mumbles with a deep chuckle. Moving the hand that’s clutched in yours down to your back, he whirls you around, dipping you low. “You sure about that?”

“No.”

Your balance is off and you know you’re going to fall in the next 20 seconds but you surge up anyway, arms wrapping around his neck to find some balance and press your lips to Frankie’s in a slow kiss.

It’s just what you thought it would be- soft and sweet. His lips a little bit chapped but warm, your hands finding his hair and pulling him in deeper.

The timer for the pizza sounds loudly on your phone, interrupting you, and it catches you both by surprise, Frankie’s arms going slack around you and with your arms around him you bring him down to the floor with you as you both fall in a tangle of limbs, laughing loudly.

“Was that worth it?” You try to catch your breath, poking him in the stomach and he laughs even harder, batting your hands away.

“Not if the pizza burns,” he groans, rolling away from you and getting up to check on the oven.

It takes a second to try and catch your breath so you stay, sprawled out on the floor, turning to watch Frankie pull the pizzas out and turn off the oven. “They alright? Or do we need to order pizza?”

“Crust looks a little crispy but I think they’re still edible,” he glances around, looking for you and snickers when he sees you still on the floor. “Where’s your pizza cutter?”

“Drawer next to the fridge.”

Shuffling around on the floor, you finally stand up and bump Frankie out of your way to grab the bottle opener, pulling the wine bottle closest to you across the counter and popping it open.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that 6 pack you brought in here. Go on, I don’t expect you to drink wine too,” you nudge him.

Frankie shoots you a grateful look while you bring the cut pizzas to the coffee table and sit on the floor, legs crossed and leaning back against the couch.

“You don’t wanna sit on the couch?” He’s looking at you strangely, but you shrug.

“I like the floor but you can sit up there if you want.”

He takes a seat next to you and you both dig in.

Watching him try to eat his massive pizza is hilarious- making you laugh so hard you almost snort, the drink of wine a bad choice as it threatens to come back up through your nose.

“I didn’t know your mouth could go so wide,” you manage to choke out, coughing to try and clear your throat from your laugh.

Frankie almost chokes himself at your bad joke, dropping the slice on the plate and chugging down his beer to try and breathe.

“We’re a fucking mess.” ---

You’re rinsing the dishes while Frankie loads the dishwasher, a solid system set up, because despite your protests that you’d just do it yourself, Frankie insisted that he help.

“I think I might have ice cream if you wanna share some,” you offer the dish towel to him after drying your hands. He waves you off, running his palms over the thighs of his jeans with a cheeky smile and you roll your eyes.

“Depends on the flavor,” he tells you as if your response is make it or break it.

Cookie dough is apparently an acceptable flavor so you share a bowl on the couch while you try to explain to Frankie that the new Jurassic World movies are trash.

“It’s just a cash grab!” You explain, pointing your spoon at him. “And sure, the second and third Jurassic Park movies aren’t great, but they’re at least better than these new ones. I can’t believe they’re making sequels.”

“The effects are good though, you can’t deny that,” he insists, grabbing a spoonful of the ice cream and shoveling into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s not the point. The story isn’t good and that is the point and makes it not worth watching. Even if I do like Bryce Dallas Howard.” You pause, thinking for a second. “But I do now suddenly remember that Jeff Goldblum is gonna be in the next one so maybe.”

You eat the last bit of the cookie dough left in the bowl and set it on the coffee table, licking your spoon clean and dropping it inside.

Frankie’s eyes are trained on you and you touch your cheek, wondering if you’ve got left over pizza sauce on you. “Have I got something on my face?”

Nodding, Frankie drops his spoon in next to yours and leans forward. “Just a little ice cream here.” He’s close, just a breath away, and his mouth presses in towards the corner of your lips, his tongue darting out to lick there and you gasp, turning your face into his to press your lips together.

The kiss starts a chain of events that make your head spin. Frankie wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hands settling around your hips. Your arms loop around his neck, hands finding his hair and tugging as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. The kiss is all tongue and teeth this time, licking into each other’s mouths. The faint taste of vanilla from the ice cream is there and it makes you smile against this lips, breaking the kiss to try and catch your breath.

You’re suddenly thankful you’d only pulled on leggings for the night, the heat between your legs easily finding his growing erection behind his jeans and you press down, seeking friction.

His lips move down your neck and Frankie pulls at the shoulder of your sweater to kiss across the skin there, teeth sinking in and sucking harshly. You know there will be a dark mark there come morning and a moan bubbles up in your throat at the harsh contact and you swallow it down, self conscious. You’d once been teased about the noises you made and you didn’t want anything to stop the delicious feeling you were experiencing with Frankie if he didn’t like them either.

You pull his mouth away from your shoulder, tipping his chin up to look at you. His dark eyes are blown wide, his mouth wet, and hair a mess. It’d been only a few minutes and already Frankie looks entirely debauched- and in your opinion, never looked sexier. “You’re so fucking hot,” you tell him, running a hand down his jaw, across his chest, down to the button of his jeans.

“Bedroom,” he chokes out as you palm him through the denim while you fiddle with the button there. “We should- bedroom. Take this to the bedroom.”

He’s right, despite how much you don’t want to move. The couch was comfortable but not the ideal place for sex so you slipped off, offering him your hand and pulling him towards your room.

Your bedroom is small and the bed takes up most of the space. A queen bed you’d treated yourself to when you had moved downtown placed in the middle with two thrifted nightstands on either side and a dresser tucked in the corner by your bathroom.

It wasn’t much but it was comfortable and you couldn’t wait to get Frankie under the sheets.

Swinging your legs up onto the bed, you settle yourself in the middle, back pressed against the pillows and crook a finger towards him. Frankie tugs his shirt off and joins you, crawling up the mattress and lying next to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells you quietly, running a hand across your cheek and you close your eyes at the feeling of careful intimacy. Turning your head, you press your lips to his palm and lean in to nudge your nose against his.

The kiss turns quickly heated again, your hands running across his shoulders and back, digging into the soft skin. You can feel scars and bumps beneath your palms as they explore him and you’re eager to learn his body.

Frankie’s hand slips up the front of your sweater, hands seeking more and you bite back a moan as his palm glides across your breast and squeezes, testing the weight and slowly starts to massage the flesh.

“Come on. I wanna hear you, baby. Don’t be shy.”

You close your eyes and will yourself to just let go. Nothing about Frankie has indicated that he’d tease you for something that comes so natural and you nod, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

His hand slides behind your back to unclasp your bra and the material slackens against you. Next he pulls off your sweater, your head popping out of the collar and you throw it to the side. Your bra is tossed in the same general direction and Frankie descends on your chest, mouth seeking more skin to mark.

Frankie brushes his mouth around your left nipple while his fingers pinch at the right. The dual sensation makes you keen, your hips thrusting up in search of friction. There was a fire burning between your thighs and you ached to have him fill you.

Your fingers find the edge of his jeans and tug. Pulling away from the kiss you whine, “Off. I want them off. Too many clothes.”

“I’d say we’re pretty even,” he jokes against your nipple, tugging at the band of your leggings.

“So do something about it.”

Frankie grips the material, fingers finding the band of your underwear too, and he yanks them down your legs, your feet kicking them off the rest of the way.

The cool air of your room raises goosebumps along your skin, Frankie’s hand sliding up your calf, to your thigh, and he parts your legs to allow him better access to your aching core. You know you’re soaked, wetness coating your inner thighs and down to your ass.

“Is this all for me?” He asks you, running a finger across the curls at your core and down between your lips to coat his finger in your juices.

“Yes. Fuck, Frankie please,” you promise him, watching his hand play with you.

He’s focused on everything else.

Frankie drinks in your naked form while his finger teases you up and down, his eyes scanning your body. When normally you would shy from such an intense gaze, your nerves are nonexistent. Not here, with him- not with how comfortable you’d grown with him despite your earlier misgivings.

Your eyes zero in on the denim still covering his legs and you nudge his thigh with your toes. “Take ‘em off Frankie.”

It’s like you’ve pulled him out of a daydream and he nods, sliding his finger into his mouth to clean it off before undoing the buttons on his jeans and pulling them off to toss them on the floor.

He’s back on the bed in a flash, sliding between your parted thighs and he surges up to kiss you. Your hands find purchase on his back, pulling his chest against yours and you arch up into the contact, your nipples rubbing against the sparse hair on his chest.

Frankie’s cock lays hard on your thigh, thick and dripping on your skin. Your fingers ache to touch him, feel him in your hand so you reach down while still kissing him, thumb brushing along the wet tip before you grip him firmly.

He breaks the kiss to moan against your mouth, forehead against yours while he relishes in your touch. Frankie’s hips thrust into your hand and you squeeze his cock tighter in your grip, sliding your hand up and down him in a practiced rhythm. “Does that feel good?”

Barely managing to nod, Frankie brokenly moans against your cheek on the uptick of your thumb smoothing over the head and you bring your wet hand up to your mouth, licking it clean of the pre-cum smeared across your skin. “Wanna blow you, Frankie. Will you let me?”

He nods quickly, shifting until he’s flat on his back and watching you situate yourself over his cock that’s laying hard on his stomach. You drag a finger up the length of him, Frankie shuddering at your touch.

You move closer, your mouth leaning down to press kisses against his lower stomach and around his leaking cock. Your eyes trail up to find his eyes closed, head pressing deep into the pillows while he breathes slowly and you smirk. Finally your mouth makes contact with the head, your tongue darting out to lick at the mess he’s made, moaning at the taste. The feel of your hands make up for what your mouth can’t take- Frankie’s big, thick and stretching your mouth wide and you struggle at first to take him deeper. Eventually you find a steadying rhythm, mouth sucking him in and hands tightening around the base. His moans are encouraging and music to your ears, only spurring you on further.

It’s sloppy and you’re sure you look obscene with your lips stretched wide around the girth of Frankie’s cock, spit and pre-cum dripping down your chin and fist. Your hand moves from the length of him down to cup his balls, rolling them in your palm and giving them a gentle tug. That seems to get Frankie’s attention and his eyes shoot down to lock with yours, pupils blown wide and neck veins straining.

Pulling off slowly, you give the head a hard suck and start sponging kisses along the girth of this shaft. “Do you not wanna cum?”

Frankie’s hand reaches down and rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and you suck it in, unable to help yourself. He swears in Spanish quietly, looking up to the ceiling before glancing back down to you. “I’ve got condoms- in my wallet. Wherever my jeans are. I need to be inside you.”

His thumb drops from your mouth and you move off the bed in search of his jeans. They’re on top of your sweater and you dig his wallet out, finding two condoms tucked around a five dollar bill. You leave one, dropping Frankie’s wallet back on the ground and tearing into the packaging of the other once you’re sitting back between his legs.

You sheath him quickly in the condom, moving your knees to sit on either side of his hips. You don’t realize your thighs are shaking until Frankie sets his hands on them, squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you promise him with a quiet laugh.

Reaching between you, you grasp his cock and slowly lower yourself down until your hips meet his, flushed together.

The feeling of being full- stretched to the brim and full of his cock is intoxicating and you bite your lip, trying to hold yourself together. Frankie isn’t much better beneath you, his hands still gripping your thighs tight, his knuckles gone white with the pressure. His neck is bared, head pressed into the pillow behind him and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to gain his composure.

You start off slowly, a slow dip of your hips to try and get used to the feeling of him inside of you. It lights a spark up your spine, a low simmering that builds the more you move. Frankie watches you, completely entranced; the way your breasts move while you start to bounce on his lap, his hands sliding up past your stomach to grip them tightly in his hands. His fingers pinch and pull at your tight nipples, a moan slipping past your lips and you fall forward, bracing yourself against his chest.

It takes no time at all for Frankie’s lips to find yours now that your mouth is closer, tongue licking in. His hands slide to your waist and they hold you there, his hips thrusting forward as he starts to pound into you. It’s too much and not enough, your mouth falling from Frankie’s to lay open against his chest while you try to breathe, panting loudly.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands moving to your ass and pulling apart your cheeks to allow him to slip further inside of you. “Touch yourself for me, I know you’re close.”

You’d do anything Frankie told you to in that moment and you snake a hand between your bodies, rubbing quick circles over the slippery bud, fingers bumping against Frankie’s cock as he works into you. Your body is shaking above his, a high pitched “fuck,” slipping past your lips as you start to cum around him. The feeling is like nothing you remember. Stars burst behind your eyelids, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Your toes are numb at the sensation and your breathing is heavy, mouth still open and pressed to his chest.

Frankie groans lowly as you tighten around him and he continues to thrust into you at a lightning quick pace in search of his own release. He’s not too far behind you, swearing in Spanish, and he trembles below you as he cums. His thrusts don’t stop, just slow down while you both catch your breath. It’s comforting, intimate, that you’re both still connected and you kiss up his chest to his neck, lips latching on to your favorite spot along his jaw. Light kisses go up his cheek until they finally land on his lips and you kiss him languidly, resting your hands on either side of his face.

Eventually, Frankie pulls away. His hands run up your sides, across your back and he noses against your cheek. “We should probably get up.” His voice is quiet and you nod slowly. The last thing you want to do is move but your thighs are sticky with your release and it’s starting to grow uncomfortable.

Your legs shake as you move off of Frankie, losing your balance once your feet are back on the floor and you giggle once you catch your footing. “I’m good, I’m good,” you say mostly to yourself, moving around the room and padding quietly into the bathroom.

By the time you’ve cleaned yourself up and wet a rag to wipe down Frankie, he’s disposed of the condom and is pulling back the blankets to your bed. “Here, just toss it to me,” he tells you, hands out to catch the washcloth. It’s a perfect throw and he wipes himself down- tossing the cloth onto the floor and sliding into bed.

It’s perfect how he’s picked the right side to settle down in; you always slept on the left, no matter how hard you tried to sleep in the middle and you slip in next to Frankie, maneuvering yourself until you’re tucked in under his arm, cheek to his chest.

Frankie tucks a finger under your chin to bring your lips closer to his in a quick kiss and you can’t help smiling into it. An unexpected yawn passes through you and he laughs quietly, “We should sleep.”

“I know,” you pout, “I set my alarm early so I can make breakfast for us before I head into work.”

“Thought you might’ve forgotten,” he teases with a light pinch to your hip.

The feeling makes you squeal and you go to pull away but Frankie just tugs you in closer, arms wrapping around you tightly. “I owe you right? And I’m not one to back out of a promise.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good-,” another yawn passes your lips and you settle back into Frankie’s chest. “You should.”

“Night querida.”

“Night Frankie.”

----

Your alarm wakes you up only a few hours later, blaring loudly in the living room where you left your phone. It’s a struggle to get out of bed, untangling your limbs from Frankie and padding in there quickly to turn it off.

Despite the lack of hours you slept, you still felt refreshed. Not once had you tossed or turned during the night, waking up in the same position you’d fallen asleep in.

Shuffling back into your room, Frankie rolls over and blinks an eye open, a slow smile sliding across his features when he looks at you. “Morning,” he rasps, scratching at his jaw.

“Morning.” You lean over, pressing your cursory kiss to the spot on his jaw that was becoming easier and easier to land on when you leaned in. “I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick.” Frankie only nods when you pull away and you’re almost bummed when he doesn’t offer to join you.

The shower is quick, efficient and you’re eager to get started on breakfast, wanting to show off what little skills you had in the kitchen.

Frankie whistles when you emerge in only a towel and you wave him off, embarrassed. Despite having shown off your body last night, it was different in the light of the day and you close the door to the closet while you dress for work. Your pull on your favorite top paired with the pants that make your ass look good and slip back out to find Frankie dressed in his jeans and shirt from the night before sat at your kitchen island.

Frankie’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you cook; asking questions about what you’re doing and its purpose. You answer him carefully, smiling at the fact that he genuinely seems to want to learn about what you’re doing.

You serve up french toast only a few moments later, bacon and eggs on the side.

You’re both quick to dig in, the activities from the previous night having worked up an appetite and you’re done in record time, rubbing your belly. Frankie isn’t far behind you, downing the rest of his orange juice and wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“Well, that was well worth the win. Much better than the pizzas,” he tells you, patting your thigh and stacking your plates together to bring to the sink.

You watch him move around your kitchen, rinsing the plates. It’s domestic and sweet, seeing him clean up for the both of you. Your heartbeat picks up a little at the thought that this, at some point, could be a regular occurrence. You and Frankie waking up early for breakfast before work, cleaning up and seeing each other off. The image is something you know you’ll hold onto, one you hope will come true.

Your name is being called and you blink, realizing Frankie was saying something. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked what time you had to be at work, it’s 15 til.”

“Shit, I didn’t even realize the time. Yeah I need to be there at 9, I’m sorry,” you apologize.

You hop off the barstool and start gathering your things. Your laptop and files you’d pulled out yesterday that were never touched get tossed in your bag and you turn to Frankie. “How do you feel about giving me a ride?”

“You got it.”

The ride is silent with the exception of Frankie’s truck rumbling beneath you while he navigates through downtown.

“Got any plans Friday night?”

You turn your head towards him, tilting it slightly as you think. “I don’t think so, no. Why, what’s up?”

“Was thinking about taking you to a movie. There’s a theater around my place that does showings of old movies and I think they might be playing Jurassic Park this weekend.”

The fact that Frankie’s here, asking you out again, has your stomach in knots. Was this too much? Frankie clearly didn’t think so and you hesitate.

“If it’s too much, I get it. I’ve taken up a good chunk of your time and we can figure something else out another time,” he tries to clear up, turning to watch you once the traffic light turns red. He’s tapping quickly at the steering wheel with his thumbs and you know he’s just as anxious about this entire situation between you two as you are; putting yourself out there is terrifying.

“No, yeah I’d love to. I really would Frankie,” you promise him, taking one of his hands off the wheel to lace your fingers with his. “I just don’t want to mess this up by going too fast and like, I know it seems like it is but… it doesn’t feel like it? Not really?”

“You’re right. Normally I’m not like this, I swear. I have fucking boundaries,” he laughs, “but I like being around you. A lot.”

“So, Friday then? Jurassic Park, popcorn, and candy? Maybe a little hand holding?”

The light turns green and he squeezes your hand. “Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

Frankie sends you off to work with a quick kiss and a honk as he pulls away and the smile never leaves your face that day.

--- 

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