#i wish i could get him into some of my projects but so far nothing works out

[ganondoodle]

monk miz kyoshia (engl. maz koshia) somewhat redesign? rehydrated? doodle bc i listened to his soundtrack and wanted to draw him

#ganondoodles #zelda #art #tloz #loz #character design #doodles #monk maz koshia #since the german name probably wont be found in the tags #kinda sad #i like his name #i wish i could get him into some of my projects but so far nothing works out #hes so cool tho #also i HC that koga and kyoshia knew each other #idk if they hated each others guts or if they were bros tho given kogas very un monk like way of being

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #lauryn hill #fugees #damon albarn #blur #90s music #tournament

[occamstfs]

No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air. 

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.” 

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears. 

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole. 

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right? 

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control. 

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom. 

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view. 

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent. 

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at. 

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #muscle tf #jockification #reality change #musk tf

[tasteracha]

professor bang

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unprotected sex, power imbalance (grad student x professor), multiple orgasms, chan calling the reader pet/good girl

synopsis: you laid out a perfectly crafted trap to seduce the hot professor - too bad he’s one step ahead of you.

the midday air is unsuspecting as you walk down the creaky hallway, floorboards of the psychology building groaning under your feet. the nerves are close to eating you up whole but you continue walking, too far into your plan to turn back now - you know what you want, and you’re going to get it. no one turns an eye as you walk past open doors, the hem of your dress swishing around your knees. they’re accustomed to seeing you here, being a graduate student in the department means you spend more time here than you do in your own apartment. 

you stop at one door in a series of identical ones, only told apart by a worn out plaque listing a room number and a shinier, newer one reading “christopher bang, ph.d.” underneath it.

the door is cracked just a bit, enough for you to peer inside and there he is, standing in front of his desk, wearing a crisp white shirt under a grayish-blue blazer. his pants are too tight to be suitable for a professor, and they cling to his thighs and stretch across his ass perfectly, making you pause in the doorway with a hungry stare that lasts for too many seconds. 

when you look up you meet his eyes and it makes you jump; you didn’t know that he knew you were there. this doesn’t fit in the plan.

the plan you cooked up when he got a little too cozy with you during the department holiday party last semester. the plan you’ve been making and scrapping and working yourself up to execute, avoiding him at every corner so that he wouldn’t know. you were supposed to surprise him, walk in pretending like you needed help with some assignment, getting closer and closer to him until your breaths were intermingling and then you’d look into his eyes and he would glance at your lips and-

and now he’s caught you checking him out like some kind of creep. 

“oh, hi y/n,” he says, eyes turning crinkly as he looks at you with a shit-eating grin. fuck.  

now that you’ve been found out, you slide inside the gap in the door, shutting it closed behind you and letting the lock click behind your back. if he notices, he doesn’t react, steady eyes trained on you as your feet take you closer and closer to his desk.

“hi professor bang,” you say, surprised by how clear your voice comes out. that’s good, you wouldn’t want him to know how nervous you are just yet, it would add to his smugness and you didn’t know if you could handle his ego being even bigger than it is right now. 

“what can i do for you?” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk. the blazer stretches over his shoulders and the material does nothing to hide his biceps and your mouth waters. he quirks an eyebrow at you when you don’t speak for a moment, and you have to clear your throat before any sound comes out.

“i needed some help with a research project,” you say, moving close enough to him that if anyone were to walk in they would absolutely report the both of you for some kind of ethical violation. good thing you locked the door, then. “i was hoping you could be of service.”

“oh?” he leans further back into the desk, fully relaxed in a way you wish you were. “what kind of project?”

“well, it has to do with human connection,” you trail a finger across the collar of his blazer, further down until it catches on a button, in a show of false confidence. “i was looking to maybe get some hands-on experience? for research, of course.”

you feel a swell of victory when his breath catches in his throat and his arms loosen from where they were crossed to drop at his side. 

“well i certainly am the expert in that domain,” he drawls, eyes flickering down to your lips and back up. “i did write my dissertation on it, after all.”

it’s a lie - you’ve read his dissertation, full of information about cognitive theory and eye movements and other things that honestly went way over your head. not a single mention of human connection was in that document, but the fact that he’s so readily playing along with you means that you didn’t misread anything. either he wants you, or he enjoys toying with you; either way, you were on board.

even more so when he takes his blazer off, throwing it off to the side like it didn’t cost him an aggressive amount of money to buy. you’ve seen the designer labels on him plenty of times enough to know he likes to treat himself to nice things. 

you’re hoping you can be his next nice thing, the next possession that he flaunts and parades around. 

you lean in for a kiss, but he surprises you and flips the both of you around until you’re backed up into the desk. he’s leaning over you, dark eyes looking down at you like you’re his prey. 

“let’s even the playing field a bit, shall we?” his voice has gone down, low and sultry, and you feel your head loll back from how it makes you feel. he makes quick work of removing your dress, letting the material pool to the floor so he could focus on your bra. it’s your favorite one, lacey and red and sexy, the material leaving nothing to the imagination. he takes a second to admire it, fingering at the strap around your shoulder and sliding his thumb into the cup before he reaches behind you and unhooks it in one try. it joins his blazer and your dress on the floor a moment later, and you’re left feeling exposed in front of him. 

“how is this even?” you ask, resisting the urge to cover yourself with your hands. “you’re still wearing all of your clothes.”

“well, sweetheart,” he starts, moving impossibly closer to you. “we’re in my office. that means i get to decide the rules, no?”

he swipes an arm across the table behind you before you can answer. papers flutter in the air, and he’s hiking you up onto the desk before they reach the ground. his hands are under your thighs, spreading them apart so he can fit between them. one of his hands snakes into the band of your underwear, your sensitive skin erupting in goosebumps from his touch.

“so wet,” he says, a smirk painting his face as his fingers part your folds to make slow circles around your clit. it shouldn’t be enough to send shivers up your spine, but it’s him, so it does.

“for you,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. the amused glint in his eyes turns sharp, dark and possessive. just what you wanted. 

“this is mine?” he asks, cupping you in his hand while his other reaches around the small of your back to hold you close to him.

“yours,” you hum, nodding even though his attention certainly wasn’t on your head.

he dips his fingers inside of you, gliding easily inside from how his fingers are coated with your juices. when he crooks his fingers and thumbs at your clit your head tips back, and you might have lost your balance if he wasn’t holding you so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

it’s on your third time stumbling over the word professor that he leans into your ear and tells you to call him chris, his lips kissing your ear as he works you to your high. you’re shaking apart on his desk and yet he doesn’t relent, he continues to move his fingers with fervor until you can’t help but push at his chest to get him to stop. 

“chris,” you stutter out when he latches his lips to your neck, open mouthed and hot as his fingers move to grab at your thighs. his hands are so big, veins bulging as he digs his fingers in. you hope there are bruises there, tomorrow. and the next day. 

“gonna fuck you now, okay?” he says, voice husky. “for research.”

“yeah, research,” you breath out, using both your hands to cradle his face so that you could kiss him, finally. his lips are as soft as you imagined, plushy pillows that you could find yourself lost in for hours. he keeps his lips on yours as he moves your underwear down and off, helping you balance so he could slide it under your thighs until you’re bare in front of him. you’re unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers, and he chuckles against you when you can’t get one of them open.

“funny?” you break away from him, eyes trained on the way his lips are red and slick with spit. 

“you’re cute,” condescension lines his voice and a spark of anger runs through you at how he knows he has the upper hand. he gently takes your hands away from his clothes and makes quick work of them himself. in what feels like a split second, he’s stripped of his shirt and pants and he’s pulling down his boxers, revealing smooth planes of muscle and strong thighs and bulging arms that you’ve fantasized about for months. you don’t know if you want to cover them in bites or let him crush you with them more - there will be time for that, the next time. 

you know there’s going to be a next time if it’s already this good and he’s barely even done anything to you yet. 

he spreads your thighs apart further, and you don’t miss how he licks his lips at the view of your dripping cunt in front of him before he lines himself up at your entrance. you barely got a glimpse of his cock, but your mouth waters at the idea of it being inside of you. he glides his cock through your folds a few time, slicking himself up before pressing his head inside of you. 

when he bottoms out you can’t help but tighten your walls around him, helpless to the desires of your own body, and the groan he lets out makes you clench down even harder. 

“relax, pet,” he says, panting a bit. his thumb strokes at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “i’m going to take good care of you okay? but you need to relax for me.”

he leans down to kiss you again, and it must be a good enough distraction because he begins moving in time with the swipes of his tongue on your teeth. every time he rocks into you the air punches out of your lungs, you’re so full. he moves his face to the crook of your neck to hide his own labored breaths when he increases his pace, thrusting into you faster than you can keep up with. 

he’s pressing you into the desk with each movement of his hips, the sharp corner against your legs sending pricks of pain up to your head. the game is over, the research bit is done, now it’s just chris taking what he wants from you. you love it. his arms wrap around you, keeping you upright, and you latch onto him like a lifeline. you’re completely at his mercy, entirely submissive to the way he’s keeping you still so he can use you. 

you can tell he’s close when he pushes his head even further into your skin, fingers gripping your back and his movements becoming sharp and purposeful. he spills into you a second later with a bite to your neck, and you can’t help yourself from following him as your head tips back in pleasure. 

when he pulls out you wince, the emptiness that he’s left you with feeling worse than you’ve ever felt with anyone else. he lowers you onto the desk slowly, letting your head rest on his mousepad as he runs his hands up and down your sides in comforting sweeps. you’re utterly spent, two orgasms hitting your limit, even more intense coming from him. 

“one more,” he drawls out, not showing compassion at all for the way you’re panting and drooling onto his desk. “you can do one more for me, can’t you?”

“no, no, no,” your voice comes out thready and light, barely a sound. his hand returns to your core either way, slow circles of his fingers around your clit making your body twitch with each pass. the oversensitivity is too much, but you’re too weak to pull away from him. you don’t even know if you want to, anymore. 

“there’s my good girl,” he grins when you whine and rut down onto his hand. you didn’t know it was possible, but the coils in your lower belly start to tighten faster than before. you’re coming before you even realize it’s happening, pleasure seeping from your core to your fingertips, an all encompassing sensation that you can’t put words to. it lasts for what feels like forever, waves and waves of ecstasy rocking through your body until your vision blacks out for a moment. 

“you did so good,” he finally stops and you press your legs together to stop him from returning. he’s pressing kisses to your body, your thighs and your stomach up to your neck and cheeks as he mumbles praises into your skin. his hand runs through your hair, pushing the sweaty locks that were stuck to your forehead out of the way so he could press a final, sweet kiss to your forehead. “so good for me. so pretty, my precious pet.”

and even as he takes care of you, cleans you up and helps you back into your clothes and feeds you water, you’re holding back a smirk. because he thinks he has the upper hand, he thinks he won, but you can guarantee that he’ll be knocking at your door before the week is over.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan x female reader #chan x reader

[vicocaaisha]

All Mine

Baek Harin x Reader Fic.

Sypnosis: Having friends is not your top priority; therefore, you kept rejecting Harin's advances. Not until she got jealous when you found yourself a new friend.

Warnings: SMUT, mature scenes, choking, virgin!reader, possesive!Harin, bottom!reader, top!harin, stalking, read at your own risk!

Requested by: @imurcherie1

“Y/N-ah, do you want to hang out later after school?”

“Harin wants us to eat later together at lunch, can you sit with us?”

“Can you join our group for the school project? We can do it after school!”

“Hey, Y/N, can you teach me how to play chess? Help me beat Harin!”

Typical Wooyi, always asking you for help. You think it’s just an excuse to make you hang out or spend time together with Harin, which for you is a waste of time because you have other things you want to do than doing friendly stuff that you’re not interested in.

“Sorry, unnie. I have other things to do! Maybe next time.” is the response you always answer to Wooyi.

You sometimes wish that you are in the lower grade, like in grade C so that no one won’t bother you and leave you alone. Being family friends with Harin means you’re also powerful inside your classroom, that’s why your classmates are always clinging to your side because they think that you’ll favour them or something.

But you didn’t care. All you care about is your studies, not the recognitions but the information you learn. Such a nerd thing to say but deep inside you really love studying, learning so many topics fascinates you.

You are smarter than Doah, but you don’t even participate in school competitions. You’re just focused on gaining skills.

“You look pretty having your hair up in a bun, Y/N” Harin greeted you.

“Yes, you do! Can you teach me how to do that later at lunch, please, Y/N.” Wooyi practically begged.

Here we go again, Harin’s group always bothers you to join them during lunch. You don’t have an interest in being friends with them even though your families are good friends. You’re just not that fond of being friends with someone, you like being alone more. Plus, Wooyi enjoys to torture your classmate, which is like a redflag to you because how can you enjoy on tormenting someone?

“I’m sorry, guys. I actually have a thesis report that I’m finishing. You know, I make money doing these things for other students.” You replied.

Harin only scoffed and started to walk away from you. She knows that you’ll just reject their invitation to hang out with them. Harin can’t do anything about it. She can’t blackmail you into being friends with her because there’s nothing hideous about you or even a secret.

Harin could only stare at you from afar. She likes you– no–, she wants you to be hers.

She’s so glad that you being preoccupied with your hobbies means you’re less aware of what's happening in your surroundings. Harin could easily stalk you and you won’t even notice that some of your things from your room are missing.

“I read somewhere that the new season of Jujutsu Kaisen is airing next week.” Jaeun said as she sat beside you.

How did she find you? You’re sitting under a tree that’s far away from your classroom’s building.

“How do you even know I watch that?” You scoffed as you read your book. Does she need something? She’s usually on her own or with Suji. What does she want now?

“Oh, you don’t? I was actually giving this Geto plushie for free.” Jaeun waved the plushie doll on your face.

“Oh my! He’s my favourite!” You were shocked, you can’t find any Jujutsu Kaisen merchandise here in South Korea, and Geto is your favourite, “Can I have it, please? Where’d you get this?” you asked as you grabbed the plushie.

“Oh, umm…” Jauen was stammering. She didn't know how to handle this kind of situation. She’s scared that she might fuck it up after having your attention.

“He’s so cute! What do you want in return, can I please have him?” You begged her. This is the first time that your classmate sees that you’re capable of showing feelings, too.

“O-of course, uhh… I just want to be friends with you, can you join me during lunch?” You were too happy from the plushie you received that you accepted her offer without thinking about it.

And that’s how you ended up being with Jaeun. She always follows you around and you were too happy that one of your classmates watches your favourite anime. When you’re with her, you are too talkative about your favourite anime, Jauen doesn’t care though; she’s satisfied that she finally is on your good side.

Harin noticed that you finally are friends with someone, and that someone is the person who she despised the most. She was angry, she wanted to harm Jaeun but it’s impossible because of Suji always rescues Jaeun whenever she corners the tall girl.

Jaeun introduced you to Suji and Se-eun. You were awkward when you met them, you don’t really like social gatherings; you can only handle one person at a time.

So here you are, on the rooftop with them. Suji introduced you to their plan once they figured that you’re trusty enough. You rejected their proposal though.

“Sorry, Suji. I don’t have an interest in being a hero here. I know, call me selfish or whatever. Do you know who you’re provoking?” You asked them genuinely.

Suji still tried to convince you. You just rejected it again and excused yourself. Do they know what they’re doing? Are they high? Harin is so dangerous. Even if you want to end this game yourself, deep inside you still value Harin.

You’ve known Harin ever since the both of you were younger. You secretly had a crush on her, when you saw her performing a dance. You were in a trance, you befriended her. You thought at first you wanted to be just like her but as your friendship progresses, your feelings also progresses. You tried to ignore it but can’t help it.

Although, as the both of you were growing older, she started to change. Sometimes you think that she turned into a monster but still, you cared for her so much even if you don’t show it.

You wanted to be away from her because you realized being in love with a girl is rather unusual. You’re scared that she might notice that you’re in love with her and betray you. Harin is unpredictable, you’ve seen it yourself.

“Y/N!” Wooyi runs into you as she sees you walking down the corridor.

“Wooyi, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood right now. My head aches so badly.” You tried to make an excuse before she could ask another invitation to hang out with them.

You tried to walk faster, “The chairman wants to talk to you right now, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Wooyi said as she tried to catch up with your fast pace.

“What? She could have texted me beforehand. She has my number, ugh. I don’t even look presentable right now.” You mumbled to yourself, Wooyi seemed to hear that.

“Oh, don’t humble yourself. You’re always pretty! You should spray some perfume, bet she’ll go crazy over you!” Wooyi said, which she regretted saying afterwards because it confused you. The chairman going crazy over your perfume?

“Oh, I’ll head to the classroom now. Gotta find them bootlickers!” Wooyi suddenly parted ways, you didn’t even get the chance to ask what she was talking about.

You sighed. Usually if the chairman, Harin’s mother, wants to meet you, she’ll schedule a meeting or she’ll text you and your parents about it. Also, you never had a meeting inside the school because she said once that it feels unprofessional meeting inside the school. What could be the problem now?

You are now in front of the chairman’s office, spraying perfume over your uniform. You took a big breath before opening the door, you were nervous that you might be in trouble, especially after hearing Suji’s crazy plan.

“Hello, Mrs. Baek. I’m sorry if I took too long, I was at the–” you stopped what you were trying to say when Harin revealed herself by turning around her chair.

“Uhm… Where’s your mother, Harin? She asked for me, didn’t she?” You tried to ask to make the awkward atmosphere out of the room.

“That would be for another time, Y/N-ah.” Harin said and stood up from her chair; walking towards you.

“You’re smoking again, I told you that’s not good for you.” You tried to lecture Harin. You are now currently in the middle of the room.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Harin said as she took another puff of her cig and she continued walking after passing you. Where is she going?

“Okay then, I better get going now if your mother is not here.” You rolled your eyes.

You heard a click. Harin locked the door behind you, trapping you inside the chairman’s office.

You began to feel nervous, you haven’t been in a room alone with Harin for the longest time. You tried to avoid this kind of encounter because you can’t contain your feelings. When talking with Harin alone, you will start to stutter.

“I wanted you here.” Harin dropped her cigarette and stepped on it. She’s aware that you dislike the smell of cigarette.

“Ohh, can we make it faster, please?” You were trying your best not to stutter because she’ll sense that you’re nervous.

“Enjoying being friends with Jaeun?” Harin started to walk towards you, which made you walk backwards as well. You were like a prey in her eyes, anytime she might devour you.

Oh shit. You thought to yourself. You forgot that Jaeun and Harin had a history before, she talked to you about this before! How could you forget it! It’s because of that damn plushie, you got too excited over that.

“H-harin, I’m so sorry. I forgot, I’m really sorry. It’s because she gave me the plushie, I got too distracted over that. I don’t mean to offend you, I swear–” You stopped your rumbling when your back hit the table. She got you very cornered this time.

You didn’t have the space anymore to move back and she still is walking forward slowly as if she’s stalking a prey. You’re very scared now, hell, you even are sweating too much for your liking. Note that this room is air conditioned.

Harin giggled to herself, “Y/N, why are you trembling so hard?”

She is now in front of you.

She tugged on your school necktie, which made you lean towards her. Since she is taller, you are looking up at her.

“Tell me, Y/N. Whom do you like to kiss?” She’s taunting you and all you could do is look at her doe eyes.

“Do you like Jaeun?” She asked you with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t like her, I don’t even have an i-interest to date a-anyone.” You stuttered, fuck you really are nervous.

“You’re lying, Y/N/N.” That nickname she used to call you when the both of you were younger.

“You’re stuttering, Y/N, it means you’re lying. Which one is it, hmm?” Her face is inches away from yours. Even if you haven't talked to her for years, she still knows your mannerisms.

Before you could even reply, she suddenly kissed you.

It felt passionate for a short time, not until she bit your lip that caused you to whimper and she immediately inserted her tongue. Did she practice with other girls before? How come is she so good with kissing? You felt jealous...

Your thoughts got cut off short when she stopped kissing you and started to undo your blouse.

“Harin, we s-shouldn’t be doing this.” She got tired of your mindless comments, so Harin pulled your necktie tighter that made you choke.

“Did I tell you to talk?” Harin only smiled when she saw you struggling. You were just gripping her clothes and whimpering because of the restriction of the air in your lungs.

Once she was satisfied, she stopped pulling your necktie and continued removing the articles of your clothes.

You were now left in your school blouse that is open, and your skirt; no bra nor panty. You suddenly felt insecure about your body when Harin was staring at your body up and down. Your first instinct was to cover up your body, but Harin beat you to it and held your wrists before you could even move them.

“H-harin” You can’t understand what’s happening between the two of you. Is she toying you?

“Stop talking, Y/N! God, you made me wait for so long, and then Jaeun easily caught your attention?!” Harin felt insatiable over you.

She then started kissing your neck, leaving marks all over your neck. You can’t even move and too scared to protest but deep inside you’re really liking this.

“You’re mine, Y/N/N.” Harin whispered, hunger laced on her voice.

“Hnng–, H-harin!” You yelped when you felt Harin’s long, slim fingers toy your clit.

Yes, you’ve touched yourself before but Harin massaging your clit felt so amazing. You can’t contain your moans anymore. You tried to shush yourself by putting your free arm on your mouth. Harin noticed this and…

She inserted two fingers, you aren’t ready for it, and it’s definitely your first time. It hurts like hell. You were struggling below her, and all you could do was to let out a shameless moan.

“A-hh, it hurts. It hurts, Ha-rin! Hnng!” She only removed your arms that were blocking your mouth and continued fingering you even if you're hurting.

Pain soon starts to feel pleasure soon enough. Harin is still putting hickeys on your chest area. She then started to look at your face, your fucked up face. Looking at you with adoration, you look so good even if you’re being fucked, Harin thought to herself.

“Baby, you look so good.” Harin whispered seductively, she couldn’t even explain how turned on she is right now. The stoic and nerdy, L/N Y/N, is being fucked out like this.

“You’re mine, Y/N. I don’t want you seeing anybody but me, you get that?” Harin starts to get rougher on you, hitting that one spot makes you struggle to respond to her. Because of that, she slapped you, thinking to herself that it might knock you to your senses.

“Mhhmm– sorry! Ahh– Fuck!” was all you could blur out during that time.

Harin only chuckled as she pressed down her thumb to your clit. Fingering you and massaging your clit at the same time feels like you’re going to climax soon.

“I f–eel, ahh! Like I’m gonna p–EE!” You gripped onto her shirt more.

“Say you’re mine, Y/N, then you can let go.” Harin teased you. She then started to suck on your breasts, which added to your stimulation more.

“I’m y–yours! Harin–nng. I lov–e you for so long, Fuck!” You didn���t even realize that you accidentally confessed your love towards her because of the pleasure you are feeling. Harin felt over the moon when she heard your confession, which drove her even more very crazy and continued to get rougher on you.

As you trembled against her holds, you couldn't contain yourself anymore; you tried to let go of the pressure you were feeling, and instead, you squirted.

Harin continued to finger you until you rode out your high. You didn’t even realize the mess you created on her uniform because you were still trying to calm down. So many thoughts were running to your mind that time and one of those is that you just fucked your long time crush.

“Baby, are you okay?” Harin asked you with softness evident in her voice. She brushed your baby hairs out of your face with her dry hand. You look so exhausted, and your face is very flushed. You just nodded weakly, too tired to say anything.

You were laid against the table, and Harin decided to take you on the couch so that you could rest comfortably. You’re too tired to even care about your appearance at that time. You just let Harin help you wear your panty and your bra.

Maybe you could rest for a bit, so you decided to close your eyes.

“I love you.” Harin whispered as she was doing after care to you. She must have thought you were asleep.

“You do?”

“Yes, so much. I was trying so hard to reconnect our friendship again.” Harin kissed you passionately and with love this time.

“You’re wet?” You asked sheepishly as you felt her clothes.

“Oh, you squirted.” Harin smiled at you.

“What? No, I did not!” Harin laughed at your response. You’re still stubborn as you were before when both of you were younger. Harin only stared at you blankly. You can’t seem to read what her thoughts are, so you decided to break the awkward silence.

“So, is Mrs. Baek really asking for me?” You asked.

“No, it’s my last resort,” she confessed, “I can’t seem to get you all alone for myself, why are you avoiding me?” Harin asked you as she caressed your face.

You avoided her gaze, “It’s because… I’m scared that I have feelings for you, more than friends.”

There was silence again, when you looked up at her, she looked as if she were in a daze; lost in your beautiness. She was still caressing your face that time. You leaned up and kissed her with all the strength you had. The both of you kissed that you felt like it lasted for hours.

You stopped kissing her because it might lead the both of you to another round, and you still have classes to attend to.

You are fixing yourself, trying to look presentable after Harin fucked you out. Hickeys all over your neck, your hair is tangled mess, your clothes crumpled. Suddenly, Harin hugged you from your back, and you felt the wet spot on her clothes.

“Harin, go change your clothes. It’s disgusting!” You tried to wiggle out of her embrace and then laugh when she kissed your neck.

“It’s your fault, you peed on me!” Harin protested.

Let’s just say she never lived that day down when you squirted and always teased you that you peed on her.

I've read your requests. Sorry if I didn't get to reply, but I'll be working on those soon!

I'll also go back to school tomorrow, so it might take me a while to post again. Sorry!

If you have any requests, dont hesitate to send them^^

#baek harin #jang daah #pyramid game #pyramid game x reader #baek harin x reader #myung jaeun #jang daah x reader

[libraryofloveletters]

Bound By Fate

Jenson Button x Fem!Teammate Reader

series summery: the strings of life connect two people; teammates, friends, perhaps lovers. Even when you think you’ve gotten rid of him, the strings of life pull you back in. some things are just meant to be. 

author's note: this was prompted by god knows what but this is my new passion project. jenson girlies, this one is for you. shoutout to @mev33 for losing her mind over this with me <333

bound by fate taglist!

chapter one: united front

attached at the hip, jenson button and y/n l/n are the unstoppable duo. the same soul in two bodies. all but 4 points separating them. // “where you go, I go. What you see, I see. I know I’d never be me without the security of your loving arms, keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we’ll stand.” - Skyfall by Adele

chapter two: time cast a spell on you

spending nine months with someone is a long time, especially when you’re forced to be with them. feelings grow, both good and bad.  - “Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me. I know I could have I loved you but you would not let me. I’ll follow you down ‘till the sound of my voice can haunt you. Oh give it just a chance. You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you.” - Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac  

chapter three: the blame is on you

two mclarens spin out, drivers at each other’s throat but only one’s to blame. what’s said on track doesn’t always stay there. - “It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.” - Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tear For Fear 

chapter four: no grace

jenson can’t take it anymore; the back stabbing, the betrayal. he did what he thought was best and left. on what was supposed to be the happiest night of y/n’s life, she’s heartbroken and upset. — “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. You had to kill me, but it kills you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossing out the good years and you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed.” -  My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift 

chapter five: the final tango

y/n and jenson find themselves front and centre, smiling for the cameras in their sunday bests, yet their hearts are in different places. - “it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. I’ve done the math, there’s no solution. We’ll never last. Why can’t I let go of this?” -  Promise by Laufey 

chapter six: secrets of us

when all is said and done, it’s never really over, is it? jenson spills far too much in a tell-all interview that back fires on both he and y/n. - “And you don’t seem to understand, a shame you seemed an honest man. And the fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say might hurt you and you know that it means so much, and you don’t even feel a thing.” -  Duvet by Bôa

chapter seven: a chapter of me

four long years have passed, both y/n and jenson are in different places of life but they find themselves at Silverstone, together once again. jenson’s a commentator and y/n’s still a racer. seems the dust has settled. - “Just wanna let this story die, and i’ll be alright. We can’t be friends, but I’d like to just pretend. You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again.” -  We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande 

chapter eight: a glimpse into the past

people come and go, life moves on; that has always been your view. you can’t move on when your past comes back to haunt you. -  “So I ask myself, do I let you go or do I keep you in the frame of my mind? Now I’m growing wise to your sugar coated lies, nothing’s sweet about my misery. Yeah, I finally found what went wrong, i finally found the wrong in you.” - On My Mind by Jorja Smith

chapter nine: twelve steps forward, one step back

the final race of your life, mixed emotions truly. your career was one out of a movie, you’re waiting for the final shoe to drop and when it does, it hits you hard. - “Isn’t it strange? I am still me, you are still you, in the same place. Isn’t it strange how people can change from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?” - Strange by Celeste

epilogue - chapter ten: the last bow

life post retirement is a funny thing, you thought you’d be having fun but you’re bored out of your mind. a solo trip results in seeing a ghost from your past.  -  “I'm sure we're taller in other dimension, you say we’re small and not worth a mention. You’re tired of movin’, your body’s achin’. We could vacay, there’s places to go. Clearly this isn’t all that there is, can’t take what’s been given. But we’re so okay here, we’re doing fine.” - White Ferrari by Frank Ocean 

#bound by fate series #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #jenson button x y/n #jenson button f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 series

[hotchswifey]

insomnia - dean winchester x reader

(this is the first thing i have written in about 2 years 😭😭😭😭

it kinda sucks but i like it

warnings: insomnia (i am aware that any sleep disorders cannot be cured by another person and i do not mean to take away from people who suffer from these conditions, this was just a cute little idea i had), a little angst?? (just about how much deans life sucks.), fluff, cuddling, overthinking, thinking badly about yourself (ur thoughts can be mean but ur lovely and brilliant <3333)

also i have a hc that dean goes really silent when he's tired, except he can't go silent around most people bc then they start to think something is really wrong™, but actually he is just too exhausted to try to talk (self-projection? maybe.)

word count: 2373)

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

You rubbed at your tired eyes, walking into the bunker’s kitchen, your eyes adjusting to the light that definitely shouldn’t have been on - considering it was 3.32am. Your eyes fell on Dean, who was hunched over the island counter eating cereal. ‘Should’ve figured it was him who couldn’t sleep, too’, you thought. As bad as your sleeping habits had gotten, you always marvelled at Dean’s capability to be a functioning human with so little sleep.

He had noticed you as soon as you stepped foot in the room, but he did nothing to acknowledge your presence. Figures. You reasoned that the poor guy’s probably slept twice in the last week. You didn’t address him either; whether it was sleep deprivation or knowing he wanted to be left alone, you didn’t know. You just went to grab yourself a bowl of cereal. 

It was quiet (except for the sound of pouring milk and Dean’s chewing), but it was comfortable. It gave you some peace knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep - something so simple yet far out of your reach. You didn’t know when it happened (your inability to sleep), but ‘it comes with the life,’ you supposed. You grabbed your bowl and left Dean to ponder on his own.

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

You rubbed at your tired eyes again. The same routine - lay in bed for hours, eventually get up because you’re hungry, head to the kitchen and find the light on. Again and again, this happened - Dean always sat there. It had become a funny thing kind of (in an unhealthy, oh-my-god-i-just-want-to-sleep-but-i-guess-it’s-nice-to-see-dean type of way). 

He didn’t acknowledge you, you didn’t acknowledge him, you poured your cereal to the sound of Dean chewing and went back to your room to eat. You wished he would invite you to sit down, even if you both ate silently. It was nice not to be alone at night, overthinking every gruesome and terrible thing to come. But you knew it was Dean, and he definitely needed some peace, quiet, and alone time (and this was the most alone time he willingly gave himself). 

You ate back in your room, not sleeping for yet another night.

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

You and the boys had just got back from a vamp hunt. Sore, tired and, frankly, pissed off. The hunt was fine, you all supposed. But, god, it takes a lot to completely decapitate somebody. Your energy was all drained, and the only thing you wanted to do was sleep - but could you? No. Of course, you couldn’t. Why? A thunderstorm? Fireworks? Gunshots? No. Because your brain hates you. God forbid you get an ounce of sleep.

Your routine ensued again, more sluggish this time and certainly more pissed. All you wanted to do was behead a few vamps and sleep it off, but no. Of course not. Try to sleep, fail to sleep, get up and haul your ass to the kitchen, pour cereal, eat cereal. How did your life become so dull?

The lights are on again. You think, ‘There is no way in all hell Dean is awake. That boy put himself through more physical torment you could ever even dream of (not that you’d want to)’. You weren’t too shocked when, even after today, you saw Dean sitting there.

It wasn’t a surprise that Dean Winchester (saviour of the world, the perfect killer) was still awake, even after killing eight vamps single-handedly (but from how he was sitting, you were sure he’d hurt his back on the hunt). Dean. Again. In the kitchen. Not sleeping.

You didn’t know why, but it pissed you off more than it should have. 

“Why are you still up?” You asked, walking past the island to the cereal cupboard. No response. Of course. You rolled your eyes, fishing out the box of lucky charms you reserved for awful days. You caught Dean’s eye as you turned around to get a bowl. 

He might’ve been the strongest man you knew physically and mentally, but he looked so tired. More tired than you had ever seen him. More tired now than after ending the apocalypse or returning from purgatory. How could he look so exhausted after one vamp hunt? You thought about it for a second, only now realising how many times you had gotten up and he had been in the kitchen. Every time you got up, he was in the kitchen. What are the chances that when you can’t sleep, neither can he? Or was it more likely he wasn’t sleeping at all?

If you were being truthful, the strongest man you knew looked like hell. He looked like a little boy who couldn’t sleep because he had a nightmare and wanted his mom. Except he wasn’t a little boy, he was living through the nightmare and had no one to turn to when things got bad.

You had felt pity for Dean before (how could you not, the man has quite literally been to hell and back), but this was a different kind of pity. This was the kind of pity that only came when things were terrible. When you realise this was how it had to be, how it would be, forever. The kind of pity that came when you realised you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt useless looking at him in his dressing gown, hunched over the counter.

He was the world’s saviour, and you had to assume that came with consequences - like not sleeping.

You didn’t say anything. Your anger had dissipated into sadness - sadness for being unable to help your friend. There was nothing you could say or do. There was nothing at all. You stared at him, and he stared back, and that was it. You went about your night - pour the cereal, return to your room, and not sleep.

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

Another day. Another hunt. Another sleepless night.

You considered buying the strongest sleeping pills and calling it a day. But you knew you couldn’t. Dean would haul your ass out for another hunt tomorrow, and he’d be pissed if you were fast asleep.

‘He should take some sleeping pills’, you thought. Maybe he would actually be remotely okay then.

Not fall asleep, get up, walk to the kitchen, see Dean, not acknowledge each other, get your cereal and leave. Again and again. You may have liked it, though. Just that little bit of routine in your hectic lives. Even if it was a bad routine.

You poured your cereal, your back to Dean, in complete silence. It was nice. Comfortable.

You picked up your spoon, ready to head back to bed, and turned around to find Dean already looking at you. You paused on the spot, unsure as to why he was staring. He didn’t stop when you noticed him. He looked as tired as ever. The sight of him, looking exhausted, with a bowl of cereal and beer, was heartbreaking. It physically hurts to look at.

He looked at you, and you looked back. Silent. Again. You wish you knew what to say, but what could you say? ‘Hey, Dean. You look like shit.’ You were sure you looked just as bad.

The sudden eye contact didn’t end. You both are not blinking, not moving, simply just looking. It was like you were communicating telepathically, just understanding each other and the hell you were both going through. This life was bad enough with sleep.

He didn’t say anything when you moved to sit down next to him, he didn’t say anything when you began to eat your (soggy) cereal, and he didn’t say anything when you finished eating. He just drank his beer and ate his cereal wordlessly. He said nothing when you sat there for 5… 10… 15… 20 minutes. Not one word.

You wanted to know what was going on in his head so badly. You wanted to know how you could help if you could help. But Dean doesn’t share his problems. You knew that, Sam knew that Cas knew that- everybody in the damn world knew that.

You sat and sat and sat silently. Half an hour passed, then an hour, then two… before you knew it, Sam was walking in- tired and grumpy. The sun had risen (not that you could see it), and a new day had started.

“You look like shit, dude”, Dean said to Sam, who promptly rolled his eyes.

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

This time, when you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t go to the kitchen. You just laid there. Unmoving. You’re sleep-deprived mind was overthinking everything- what if you fucked up on that hunt 3 years ago, and Sam and Dean still hate you to this day? What if Sam hates you? What if Dean hates you? What if Dean is so fucking sick of you interrupting his nightly cereal time? You were a victim of your mind- your thoughts and inability to sleep. 

Ugh. You were so hungry. But, right now, your brain was convincing you you were single-handedly Dean’s biggest annoyance right now (if Dean could read your thoughts right now, he would be calling you his biggest idiot).

A knock on your door startled you more than it should’ve (considering you had been hunting for quite a while at this point).

A knock. At (you looked over to your alarm clock) 3:34am. ‘Why is Sam awake at this time? Why’s he knocking on my door?’ you thought. ‘It can’t be Dean. I’ve done nothing but piss him off for the last month. You squint your eyes preemptively as you reach over to turn on the lamp by your bed and get up. The floor was cold under your feet, and your body was exhausted from the lack of sleep. You reached towards the doorknob, preparing to see Sam. 

Sam. Who was definitely not at the door. Because Dean was standing there, in boxers and a white t-shirt, holding 2 bowls of cereal, looking as tired as you felt. Huh.

He looked at you silently, extending one bowl towards yourself. You took it hesitantly, staring at him, confused. He didn’t react. He didn’t say a word. Just lifted his bowl to eat his cereal. You moved to give Dean the option to come in. It was like a silent agreement had happened between you. Cereal and silence.

He walked in and sat on your bed; you closed your door and joined him. Wordless. Silent.

Maybe, you weren’t annoying him. Perhaps, he enjoyed this as much as you did. Maybe. Maybe.

Ten minutes passed, and you finished your cereal and leaned over to put it on the mahogany desk. ‘The Men of Letters enjoyed a frivolous life, huh. Who needs a mahogany desk?’ You thought, trying to distract yourself from your overactive mind. Dean moved over to do the same, leaning into you whilst he did. 

He didn’t seem to lean away from you after that. He didn’t seem to move at all. He just sat close as you both stared at the wall, unblinking. God, you were tired. You just wanted to sleep. You felt like your body was going to shut down any day now.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean’s groggy voice came out of nowhere. It surprised you, him actually talking. 

“Yeah, I’m trying,” you replied. Hell, you were trying. You were trying so hard, you just needed to-. Dean moved before you could finish your thought, standing up and moving to the top of the bed, pulling back the dishevelled sheets. He laid down in the bed, propping his head onto his hands.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

You moved to join him in the tiny twin bed. He pulled back the covers to let you in. You weren’t too sure what to do with yourself, then. You sat there with your knees to your chin, shoulders hunched. He had invited himself into your bed, and you felt like you were invading HIS space. Why were you still overthinking this? Why were you still thinking he didn’t want you here? Obviously, he did! 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders before you could think anymore. You looked over at him, his green eyes reflective in the lamplight, and he looked back at you. Wordless. You gave him a small smile and moved to lie down. He joined you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You debated whether you should lean against his chest but decided not to overthink it and just do it. You were sick of overthinking every little thing.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, yours wrapped around his. This was good. He was good. Nothing was exchanged between you; there wasn’t a need for words. You both knew this was what you two needed- each other. Dean had never really been alone (whether it was Sam, Cas, or Benny), and he needed somebody there to remind him that everything was okay. You were okay- sleep-deprived and needing a new career, but okay. 

Your eyes were shutting before you could help it. Dean’s steady heartbeat in your ear and arms around your body calmed you. It was almost funny how quickly you were falling asleep now. Months and months of sleepless nights, and all it took was Dean to be here, holding you. You wished you could enjoy it more (not knowing if this would happen again), but you were so goddamn tired. 

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

You awoke the following day to repeated knocks on your door and Sam’s voice shouting your name. Damnit Sam. He opened your door before you even had the chance to fully wake up.

“Have you seen Dea- oh.”

The man in question was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around you, your legs tangled together. You looked towards Sam as he mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ and left hurriedly. You were surprised it didn’t wake Dean. A pin drop could wake him up. You looked over at him, admiring how peaceful he looked. It was simple. Simple and nice and sort of domestic. Or as domestic as a hunter’s life can be.

You leaned against his chest, his arms tightening around you, falling back asleep.

You two had a different routine from then on- if either couldn’t sleep, you would find each other.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader fluff

[ze0re]

·˚ ༘ 𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒐 ➪ fluffy!, kissing (slightly explicit?), sorcerer!reader black!reader

₊˚ෆ 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 he ls definitely the type to get nervous around eye contact with someone he likes or gets memorized by their eyes. It's a balance between the two.

ミ★ 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆. hello my lovely's, I can't believe I’m almost at 1k followers 😧. when I first started I didn’t think I would get this far Into the community, we are so close! only 95 to go 😔.

❝ 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑻𝒀 𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺 ! ❞ - 𝑵𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕

₊˚ෆ 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊 - her pretty brown eyes.

whenever he would stare Into them..he would easily get lost Into them. those dark/light brown eyes, whenever he tried to conversate with you he would always stumble across his words getting lost Into them..which Is why he can never hold eye contact. your glasses made your eyes look more bigger and doe giving them more flare to your eyes. he was never able to focus on what he's trying to say or do without you staring at him. his cheeks would end up betraying him as they ran hot and bright, clearing his throat trying to move on from the embarrassing situation but couldn't. your giggles will go through his ears feeling his heart swell from the sound, your soft spoken voice and wording made his body run hot. you were oblivious to It all but God he wishes you knew what you were doing to him.

he was yet again staring at you as you were focused on working on another robot for a 'project' you've been stressing out about. his hand on his palm as a gentle gaze was set your way, you were so cute when you got irritated. weird thing to say I know but It was the truth. your eyebrows furrowed, forehead with small wrinkles as you did so with a bitten lip and small curses escaping Into whispers as something wasn't done right. nanami was supposed to be finishing his work but he got caught up with being with you by your request. he couldn't say no when you were giving him though puppy dog eyes, he always wondered why you wanted him by your side? maybe because you're alone? maybe because you get lonely? maybe you want company? he didn't question It even though he wanted to but he stayed In silence watching you work. he was so lost In a memorizing daze he didn't hear you call for him, "nanami."

"nanami."

...

"NANAMI!!."

"huh? yes?." he snapped out of his daze, sitting up straight looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. you sighed. "did you not hear me?." you asked with a raised brow. nanami thought back to his head but nothing came to mind, It was all foggy. he cleared his throat shaking his head, "no, I didn't. what do you need?." you shook your head with a small laugh pointing at the wrench beside him, "can you hand me that?." he looked at the side of him to see the wrench laying on Its side, picking It up to hand It to you. you gave him a small "thank you." turning your attention back to the robot, moving It side to side before- WACK!. "hope that worked." you said, setting It on the table, pressing the small button on top hearing It power up. you smiled widely with big eyes as you stood up with excitement rushing through your veins, "It worked!" nanami looked at the little robot then at you with a small smile.

he doesn't know why. but seeing you excited made him happy, you were doing a little dance with small giggles. after trying to get It to work for so long It finally turned on. "yuji Is gonna be so happy." you said excitedly stopping your dance, taking off your glasses to set It down on the table leaning forward to look at your work. nanami cleared his throat holding his head up high looking at the robot. "do you mind explaining how It works?." nanami asked, looking his way noticing his pink cheeks with a smile, "for starters, I- or yuji got this little guy from a junkyard when we had a mission assigned. he found him really interesting and asked me If I could fix him. and I did, after a few difficulties of course." you giggled, "but after some time and work Into him I found out how to make It thing work." you poked at It, "I thought It was powered by regular bolts and wires by how formal the model Is, but It's powered by curse energy. cool right?." you looked up at him, nodding his head keeping his eyes on you. "It's not an ordinary robot you would see regularly, I bet this was used to catch curses or something and someone tossed him after he broke down." he's never seen something like this before. he didn't find hardly anything fascinating but seeing you put so much work Into this made him Impress.

you sat down In your chair again, facing him with a teasing look on your face noticing his facial expression. "Is the all mighty kento nanami impressed?." you teased, gaining his attention. he rolled his eyes, "surprisingly yes. actually any of your work Impresses me." all though he said this bluntly and calmly not thinking too much Into It, It made your heart speed up feeling warmness In your body. your eyes widened, "oh! really? I didn't think any of my work Impressed people." you chuckled nervously looking down In embarrassment, he hummed feeling flustered at your nervous reaction. did he say the wrong thing? you became nervous all of sudden. he cleared his throat, "It's good work, y/n. you should be proud of what you're doing." butterflies. you nodded your head with a small smile looking at him again, "I've never been told that before." you chuckled, "I was always told that since I'm a jujutsu sorcerer I can't be anything else because this Is my job but..thanks nanami." you gave him a short smile before looking away again, staring at the robot.

nanami doesn't know where or why he has this confidence all of sudden. should he? should he not? you're right sin front of him..lip bitten, hand on your lap- shit. screw It. he took his advantage of this confidence bringing his hand towards yours l holding It with his gaining your attention again. you looked down at the interlock hands then at him with a confused face, he looked calm but Inside his heart was beating against his chest. he held your hand as he lifted his free one to push some of your braids back placing his hand on your cheek. "It's a first for everything right?." huh?. "what do you me-!." you felt soft lips onto of yours as you looked with wide eyes, your body went tensed and stiff looking for what to do. but the more he kept his lips on yours, your eyes started to relax and close on their own leaning more Into the kiss deepening It. your body relaxed, tilting your head to the side kissing him back at the same pace.

deep and hard breathes were the only thing being heard In the room as you both made out. his hands slid down to your waist pulling you close to his body as your hands unknowingly twent up to his blonde hair, softly gripping It hearing him groan Into your mouth. the kiss lasted a few more seconds before you pulled back first leaning your head with his staring Into his eyes. you panted, trying to catch your breath with a airy chuckle, "didn't expect that." you laughed, nanami blushed nodding his head In agreement trying to hold eye contact with you. your brown eyes shot Into sparks, practically feeling your heart beat on his own chest holding you close.

you noticed how hard he was staring Into your eyes keeping eye contact with almost like..he's getting lost In them. you raised a brow, "Is there something on my face.." you mumbled, he shook his head . "no. It's just..your eyes, they're pretty- beautiful." memorizing. you chuckled again, "do my eyes also make you nervous?." even If he did want to deny It, It was the truth. your eyes made him nervous. they were gorgeous. he loved them. "yes..they do." he mumbled back looking away In embarrassment but you only brought his face back up to face yours, "you're so cute kento.." you closed your eyes leaning In once more connecting lips with his as he kissed back with a heavy sigh. the kiss was gentle and slo-

"hey y/n did yo- OH MY GOD." In an Instsnt you and nanami pulled away with fast heart rates, looking at your open door to reveal a red face yuji looking anywhere but at you two, "u-uhm..I was just wondering If the robot was done! I'm so sorry, I should've knocked!." he bowed feeling embarrassment rush through his body. I mean- he just walked In seeing his teachers making out with you practically on his lap, you sighed pulling back from nanami walking over to the embarrassed yuji to reassure him It was okay but he only kept apologizing.

nanami ran a hand through his hair, he couldn't help but grin to himself.

he had to say, today wasn't all so bad.

#⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒁𝒆𝒓𝒐 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 !¡ ✫彡 #{ 🖋️} writings #black reader #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #fluff #jjk x black reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x black!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x black y/n #black yn #jujustu kaisen

[torhues]

tsukishima kei.

"you're crying," tsukishima speaks over your soft sobs filling the atmosphere around an empty staircase.

"thanks for noticing, idiot," even though your throat is soar and you're barely in a position to say something, you manage to utter words of delightful gratitude, or insult, whatever fits the situation better.

he sighs, and you feel him sit next to you. to be honest, he's the last person you expected to see at the moment, and also the last person you wished would see you in your current state.

you don't have anything against again, not at all, but neither of you can stand each other's presence, especially you. perhaps, it's the way he refuses to compromise, or the moments he straight up calls your ideas stupid and lame, always getting on your nerves. tsukishima isn't a half bad student, but he sure is the worst project partner you could've been assigned.

another sigh escapes his lips. "if you would tell me what happened, maybe i can help,"

"yeah, no thanks, asshole," you reply.

"i don't see the need to call me names when i'm being nice to you,"

"jesus, tsukishima, i don't want to talk to anyone right now so please leave me alone," there's annoyance in your voice, hints of anger in your eyes, a frown on your face while you try your best to compose yourself and not break down.

it doesn't faze him.

tsukishima doesn't even blink. in fact, he looks at you as if he's used to seeing you this way. his eyes are still brimming with indifference, or maybe there's a little bit of emotion— warmth— you don't know, it's hard to figure out. reading him is hard because on other days, tsukishima doesn't seem to care.

he takes a deep breath, pulling out his phone from the pocket before leaning against the step behind him. "guess we're staying quiet,"

and you don't know why he doesn't leave.

the typical tsukishima would be with his friend or in a corner of the classroom, sitting by himself with air-pods plugged in. some say he listens to crime podcasts while others have seen him re-listen to the lectures, which could be the reason behind his excellent grades. on normal days, he would call you stupid for minor miscalculations in mathematics, suggesting that you should sign up for remedial classes before it's too late.

maybe, it's the significant change in weather today that has got him acting this way. maybe, he just needs someone to kill his boredom and coincidently, you happen to need someone who would lend you an ear.

"i broke up with my boyfriend," you begin, eyes on the gray tiles, voice low enough to equalize a whisper. "well, he broke up with me, and even though i said that i fucking hate him and that i'm better off without him, it hurts, y'know?"

tsukishima sighs again. it's a lighter one this time, like a sigh of relief, a sigh without stress, a sigh of comfort. you wait for him to speak but, all you hear is silence. for a second, you wonder if it was a wrong decision to tell him this in the first place, and the reason is far beyond the ideologies of sharing your weakness with your biggest rival. to put it simply, you don't think tsukishima is the right person to find comfort within.

he slips his phone back inside the pocket. "you curse a lot when you're angry, or upset,"

"is that what you inferred from everything i told you?"

he shrugs. "perhaps,"

"gosh, i new this was a bad idea," actually, you thought it was a good idea to share a few things with him, just for a brief second. of course, this isn't the only decision you'd be regretting, but you still hope you could go back in time and stop yourself while you still had the chance.

you grab your bag, swinging it up your shoulders before taking a last look at him, hoping he'd say something else, something worth noting instead of initiating pointless talks. when nothing comes your way from his side, you decide to leave on your own accord, for your own good.

"crying over men is lame," his words make you halt in your way. "just saying," and it's surprising and equally fascinating to hear something along those lines from his mouth.

"i know," you chuckle, "but, some of us have it tough out there,"

"you're not some random person. you decked your friend's ex because he cheated on her," first things first, you don't know the need to bring that up. you were in first year and had subpar hatred for people to cheat on their significant others— still do— but the current you wouldn't deck someone. and secondly, you don't know how that has anything to do with your relationship.

"hey, now, that was a different case,"

"you can deck your ex too," he states with a monotonous voice, being ever so serious and certain of his words as if they're wedding vows. "i don't see how that's any different,"

a trail of silence follows. you almost consider his words, almost, and brush off those thoughts from your mind the very next second. you take a look at his face, wondering if he's joking, but reading tsukishima has always been so hard, you don't know if his eyes resonate with a mere prank or if they spell something else out loud.

"minato treated me well, tsukishima," you retort, "i don't know what's going on in that head of yours but, don't make any assumptions,"

the slight necessity to clarify your relationship compelled those words to fall off your lips. although, you did broke up on bad terms, the period while you were with him wasn't half bad. you both had your share of happiness and sorrow, arguments and comfort, just like any other normal relationship would. maybe that's why now that you've broken up, it hurts more, and perhaps, the reason is not him but instead, everything that the two of you had.

"well, you've got other guys out there," once again, tsukishima's words pull out of your thoughts. his expression is ambiguous and his gaze mirror something that you've never seen in his eyes. you take your time to come up with a response, knowing that while his words means more than what they seem to.

and when you don't say anything for the next new seconds, tsukishima stands up, taking a step towards you. "i'm saying, you have me,"

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #haikyuu #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima fic #hq tsukishima

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 13

Find the series masterlist

In which things get worse. Price may or may not help.

Warnings: swearing, panic attack, Ace is bristly, we learn more about Ace's past.

Word count: 2.3k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

“You’re late.”

You grimaced at Captain, sinking down across from him. “Flight was delayed on the runway, hardly anything I could control.” You leaned back in your seat. You knew you didn’t look great - you hadn’t been able to sleep since you’d been grabbed. Again.

“What’s going on?” He leaned forward, hands folded in front of him.

You waved him off. “Work.” You had already decided not to tell him about whoever had grabbed you. You didn’t need to give him an excuse to haul you back to whatever base and hold you there again. Besides, you had no intel to give. You didn’t know who those people were, and you were a bit inclined to not investigate. They’d already found you once, they could do it again.

And that scared you.

His eyes narrowed at you before sweeping over you again. “Ace–”

“Not your business, remember?” Your voice lacked bite, and you blinked wearily. “Here. Password is defiant.” You slid the USB across the table before tucking your hands away again so he couldn’t see the tremble in your fingers.

“Ace.” He frowned at you. “When did you last sleep?”

You scoffed. “Don’t pull that concerned act on me,” you growled. “I’m not one of your people.”

“Act? Is that what you think this is?” His eyes glittered dangerously, hands balling into fists.

“What else would it be?” you snapped back. “I’m not your responsibility, Captain, don’t pretend otherwise.”

He leaned back, breathing slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, soft but no less intense. “You are my responsibility when you’re working for me. You’re one of mine, now.”

“Good fucking luck.” You stood, fully intending to leave right then and there.

And found your wrist caught.

“If your other work is interfering–”

“Don’t worry, Captain, I’m giving your project all due attention.” You pulled your wrist free and walked away, shoulders high and tight.

Italy should be lovely this time of year. Maybe it was time to go scout a hideaway there.

You only made it as far as the airport before Laswell called.

“I thought you were playing nice.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pulling shit.” You couldn’t keep the bite out of your voice, and you stepped off to one side, doing your best to merge into a wall.

“What kind of shit?” Laswell, on the other hand, kept her voice even and cool.

“Just… It doesn’t matter. I’m getting the information.” You pulled your laptop bag up higher on your shoulder. “Look, I need to go.”

Laswell said your name softly, calmly. You flinched, full-bodied. “Calm down. I know you’re not used to working with a team, but that’s how it is with this op. For your safety as well.”

“I don’t need a minder, Laswell.” You pulled in a deep breath. “I’m getting on a plane. I’ll contact you when I have more info.” You hung up on her and then turned off your phone.

In for a penny, and all that.

Italy was beautiful, but you couldn’t shake the odd mood. Something just felt wrong. Your temper was frayed, too short, paranoia too hot. You felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin.

You spent the entire first day in your hotel room wishing you could distract yourself.

The ringing of your phone woke you on the second day. You woke bleary and confused, jetlagged. But you still answered.

“Yeah?”

“Marigold.” Valeria sounded unusually serious.

“Valeria.” You sat up, blinking rapidly. “What can I do for you?”

“This time, it is what I can do for you.” She was silent for a moment before she switched to Spanish. “I am only telling you this because I like you and you have done good work for me for years.”

Your heart sank to your gut. “I understand. What is it?”

“Some of my current business associates have heard of you. There is a man who was asking after you, but he was too curious. He wanted to know too much about you. I told him nothing, but I cannot guarantee others did you the same courtesy.”

You swallowed hard against the sudden galloping of your heart. “Who was he? What’s his name?”

“I don’t know his name. He introduced himself as Gray.”

The world turned into static. You couldn’t hear. Could barely see. You weren’t sure what you said to Valeria, but you must have said something.

Your phone fell to your lap from nerveless fingers.

Gray was trying to find you again. Gray knew you were alive.

You needed to go.

You booked the first flight you could catch back to the US, checked out of the hotel, and fled. You closed down everything associated with the alias Valeria knew - bank accounts, rental spaces, emails, everything. You spent the flight writing down a list of everything you needed to do - there were two more aliases you needed to retire, and you needed to transfer funds to a secure location. All of which took time, which you didn’t have.

Your phone rang once you were out of the plane. You ignored it, busy renting a car under one of your least-used aliases. Your phone rang again. You ignored it again.

It wasn’t until you were in the car that you bothered to check. Laswell, both times.

You’d get back to her later.

Captain called while you were driving, and you ignored that too. In fact, you ignored everything until you got to your hideaway.

Then you hunkered down to erase as much of yourself as you could from those three aliases. You’d lose access to a not insignificant portion of your funds, at least temporarily, but you didn’t care.

You needed to burn as much as you could, start over. Maybe retire this time. Take your name out of the game entirely.

You were down to two aliases now, neither of which you used often. They counted as your oh shit backup plan, so you couldn’t burn them.

Not yet.

Your phone rang twice more. Laswell again. Too bad. This was more urgent. You ignored your phone. You’d need to change numbers anyway.

You were in the middle of burying those names, taking them off as many records as you could, leaving as little trace as you could, when someone hammered on your door.

You froze, tense and afraid, feeling distinctly cornered. Laswell was the only one who knew about this place. But that wasn’t her - she wouldn’t knock like that.

The hammering came again, more determined. “Ace!”

Captain. He was… here? You felt slow, lagging, as you got to your feet. Your extremities tingled with pins and needles - how long had you been crouched over the laptop, erasing yourself from existence?

“Ace, answer the damn door!” Captain banged on the door again.

You weren’t really aware of crossing the space, but you were aware of opening the door, looking up at Captain, his hat a little askew, jacket doing little to hide the bulk of his shoulders. He herded you back two steps so he could step into your apartment and close the door, locking it.

“You are going to explain to me what the fuck is going on,” he growled, voice low, eyes narrowed.

And you? You were wound just tight enough that you felt like fighting. You had no idea how long it had been since you got back to this apartment. Had no idea when you last ate or slept. But it didn’t matter because you weren’t done.

“It’s none of your business, Captain.” You glared at him, hands balled tight. “You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even know about this place.”

“Laswell called,” he said, advancing one step on you. You took a step back, trying to maintain distance. “Said you went dark without notice.”

“I’m out.” The words scraped past your vocal chords, raw and rough.

Captain advanced another step, and again you retreated. “So you’re just dropping off, is that it? Without a word?”

“I was going to alert you when I changed numbers.” You tipped your chin up, backing away another step. “And fuck you both, I don’t need a fucking minder.”

“Something’s got you scared,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “So scared you’re running.”

“Told you, I’m out.” You stumbled on your next step back, slapping away his hand as soon as he extended it. “Don’t touch me!”

His eyes narrowed and he took two quick steps forward, sending you scrambling back until your back hit the wall. “Don’t lie to me, Ace.”

“What does it matter?” You finally shouted, losing grip on your temper. “It doesn’t! It never does!”

“Tell me.” He stayed exactly two steps away, hands folded in front of him now.

You shook your head hard. “Get out. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“You don’t need more ammunition against me.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice softened, just a little, and he took a half-step forward. Stalking you slowly now, watching for weakness. “Like you think my concern is an act?”

“It is.” You swallowed hard, edging to one side slowly. Your heart tripped over itself, beating so hard you were afraid it would simply give up.

“It’s not.” Captain moved with you, blocking your exit. Blocking most of the world so he was all you could focus on. “You’re a member of my team now, and I look after my own.”

You swallowed hard. “Save it for your boys.”

“I’ve got enough.” He edged forward again, maybe one step separating you now. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

“You don’t want to help me anyway.” You lifted your upper lip in a pathetic attempt to warn him off.

“Don’t often get told my own mind, love.” His hands settled out at his sides, loose and confident.

“Stop. Stop that.” Your breathing hitched at the pet name.

“Stop what?”

“All of it.” You swallowed again, gaze darting around for some other way out, any other way. “I have things I need to do.”

“Things like going to ground? Hiding?” He nodded once when your gaze jerked back to him, eyes wide. “Kate mentioned you never used this place. I guessed why.”

You clenched your hands rhythmically, the pain of your nails digging into your own skin grounding. “Then you should let me work.”

“Or you could let me help.” He leaned forward, gaze intent on you. “Tell me what’s got you runnin’, love.”

You swallowed. Your gaze darted around but mostly all you could see without moving was Captain. The sight of him in your safehouse, your hidden space, was… not even jarring. Sure you were surprised that he was here, but it… didn’t feel wrong.

He was already too deep.

You tipped your head back in silent surrender, the back of your head thunking gently into the wall. The popcorn ceiling annoyed you, as it always did. But you’d never gotten around to getting it fixed. “I got a call.” Your voice came out thin, weak. Soft. All the things you hated about yourself, the things you hid away. “Someone from my past found out I’m still around, and he’s sniffing around. Asking questions.” You huffed once, almost a bitter laugh. “Probably wants to finish what he started.”

Captain moved slowly, letting you hear as he moved forward, his boots shuffling over the low carpet. One big hand cupped your jaw, so warm he nearly burned, and your lips parted in a gasp. Slowly, gently, he tipped your head back down, thumb gentle over the thrum of your pulse. Blue eyes were focused solely on you, so intense it almost hurt to hold his gaze.

“He’ll have to get through me, first,” he rasped. Low. Vicious. A promise.

Heat flared in you, and you swallowed. His pupils expanded, black threatening to swallow blue, his hand tightening just barely against your jaw and throat. Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, and his gaze dropped to follow the motion. He swallowed, shifting forward, warmth growing and spilling between the two of you.

Your phone rang.

Captain made a face, eyes still dark, but stepped back. His hand fell from your skin, leaving you cool. “That’ll be Laswell,” he grunted.

You swallowed hard, feeling something slip away from you, something warm and tempting. But you ducked around Captain, refusing to pursue it. Not right now. Instead, you scooped up your phone. “Yeah?”

“Is Price there?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t turn to look at him, instead looking back at your laptop.

“Good. Tell him we’ll meet at the RV point in an hour.” She hung up without any further words.

You grimaced, closing your eyes briefly and tucking your phone away. You still had so much to do, and you wouldn’t be able to focus with Captain around.

Not after whatever had almost happened.

“She wants to meet at the RV point in an hour,” you rasped, not quite brave enough to look back. “I just need ten minutes to finish this up and pack up.”

Captain was silent for long enough that you chanced a glance back at him. His eyes were still dark, but he left the bit of distance between you. The way he looked at you… You felt a bit like you were being hunted. Stalked.

It… wasn’t actually a terrible feeling.

“Copy,” he grunted, turning away finally and lifting a hand to his jacket and, you realized with a jolt, the radio under it. “We’ll be out in ten minutes.”

You swallowed and looked back at your laptop. One thing at a time.

You’d deal with Captain later.

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

[charliehoennam]

The Conception

A/N: another request by the lovely @juniebugg ❤ didn't have time to proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

Pairing: Dark!quentin beck x f!reader

Summary: quentin concocts a plan to test his precious technology (takes place before he goes rogue)

Warnings: smut, dub-con/non-con, sex without protection (wrap ur willy when it gets silly), rough sex, language. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Obsession can lead to either one of two ways. It can take you on the path of success or it can take you to dark journeys with lasting consequences. Quentin was – with no doubt – an obsessive man.

The long working hours he had dedicated into developing his technology is a result of his obsession. And now that he has you, he can finally bring together the only two things that satisfy him.

You find yourself walking on eggshells again as your high heels clack their way through against the white marble floor. Quentin had forgotten a briefcase at home, containing some important blueprints. He politely demanded asked you to bring it into the lab for him. You call for him as you quietly walk inside. There are dismantled drones crowding the work stations. The lab looks a mess with small bolts, screws and motherboards everywhere.

You don’t know to expect or what state you’ll find him in. Granted he had always been self-centered and short-fused – you wish you had noticed the red flags before you said the official “I do” – he could be worse when he worked on his projects. Far worse.

“About time. What the hell took you so long?” he sighs setting the tools in his hands down on the glossy white table in front of him to walk over and rip the briefcase from your hands.

 “I’m sorry. I got caught in traffic. It’s not like I wanted to be late” you retort. “I know how you get” you add with a mumble.

You freeze the second the words leave your mouth. You realize you were thinking out loud when you catch Quin’s scowl.

 “Oh? And how exactly do I get?”

“N-nothing, Quin. I didn’t say anything.”

“So now I’m hearing things? I’m going schizo?”

 He takes a threatening step towards you, his broad size shrinking you in comparison. His shoulders stretch as he stands up straight. He wants to remind you that you are essentially powerless against him.

 “No. That’s not what I meant. I-I didn’t mean it.”

“Obviously, you did. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said it. So, enlighten me, princess. How do I get?”

You gulp heavily as you lower your fearful agaze. His sights are locked on you like a wolf circling its prey. You’re in for it now.

As you open your mouth and try to build the courage the speak, the words seem to get stuck in your throat.

Frighteningly calm, his hand wraps around the underside of your chin. His fingertips press into one cheek as his thumb sinks into the other, forcing you to face him.

“I asked you a question, princess. It’s impolite to leave someone hanging.”

“Just a little s-scary sometimes, Quin. That’s all.”

He doesn’t need to feel your trembling to know that you’re afraid of him. As he smirks to himself, his fingertips ease the pressure they’re applying to your cheeks. He caresses them, soothing the red indents on your skin.

The change of his persona is almost too eerie.

“You’re not wrong about that. I know sometimes I can get a little impatient. I think I just need a break.I think I’ve just been in here on my own for too long. But now that I have you here...” He trailed off as he kisses you.

Slow, repeated, tender kisses that make you bubble from the inside. You can’t deny him. You fear what he’d do if you did and you find him oddly irresistible.

The small of your back is guided by his hands on your hips to meet the table as he entraps you against it with his hunching frame. His feet stand firm on either side of you, locking you in.

As his kisses grow hungry, you cling to the edge of the table to steady yourself from his mauling. His lips connect to your neck, nibbling and sucking your skin. His 5 o’clock shadow grazes you roughly as his fingers work the buttons on your shirt to reveal your black lace bra.

Your eyes dart towards the one-sided wall of glass. An office of busy workers and overflowing desks lay just outside. Even though you know they can’t see in from the outside, your cheeks still flush warmly at the sight of his co-workers.

“Quin, maybe we shouldn’t. You’re at work. Someone could see us.”

“And what’s the problem with that?” he mumbles against your flesh, too busy savoring the fullness of your breast in his hand after he shoved it under the black garment.

You hold his wrists trying to resist him as you struggle to ignore how good they feel.

“Quin, we can’t.”

“Who the fuck says when I can and can’t fuck my wife. If I wanna fuck you right here and right now, I’m gonna fuck you.”

“I-i just don’t want anyone to see, Quin.”

“Don’t worry. No one will see” he smiles darkly as a light bulb lit up upon his head. His hand retracts from your breast, rendering you confused. Had you upset him?

“No one will see. You’re for my eyes only, princess.”

You gasp when his hand reaches under your skirt and squeezes your pussy over your panties. You close your eyes to steady yourself, but they shoot open when you hear a faint blip. Closing them again, you ignore it thinking you might have imagined the sound.

“You don’t wanna disappoint your husband, do ya?” His voice is low and soft, manipulating you into surrendering to him.

“N-no, I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you, sir.”

“That’s my girl” he chuckles dimly.

While one hand teases your clothed pussy, his other hand pulls your bra down. As the garment bunches under your fully exposed tits, it pushes them up and perfectly displays them to Quin.

You can hear a very low hum vibrating around you but you assume it’s only the AC kicking in.

“So fucking beautiful for me” he mumbles.

He’s quick to wrap his mouth around your nipple, kneading the tender flesh in his large hand. His tongue twirls around your hard nipple, stopping only to greedily suck on it. You moan as he alters. Left to right, right to left; giving them each the attention they deserve.

You watch him ravage your tits. His hand slides out from under your skirt and assists him in taking off your shirt. He leaves the bra on. He loves black on you, but personally he’s already thinking about how white they’ll be when he stains them with his cum.

“You know how much I fucking love your tits, princess.”

A telephone rings from a desk outside the lab and catches your attention. You look to the glass wall and are quickly reminded how many people are just on the other side.

“You’re such a filthy fucking whore for me” he grumbles groping your chest roughly with his hands and mouth.

“Quin, someone could walk in on us” you plead trying to remind him. He feels so good on you, but you don’t want to do this right here.

“They could” he nods looking up at you. “They could see the little slut you are for me.”

“Quin, please. Not here.”

  He ignores your pleads to stop. He knows you’re turned on by it. The wetness sinking through your panties was the only confirmation he needed.

Pushing your skirt up to expose your dampening cunt, he sits down on a rolling stool and wheels it closer.

He sits you on the table behind you and your legs spread open on their own to allow him access. You hate the puppet you become at his fingertips.

“No, Quentin. Stop it” you plead trying to get his attention.

He responds with a hard slap on your breast. The sting sends sparks straight down to your core, fueling the fire that burns in your womb.

“What’d ya call me?”

“S-sir. Please.”

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, you got that? I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Ripping your panties to the side, he buries his face between your thighs. Any shred of resistance you have melts away. Your eyes squeeze shut, but you’re reminded you have to watch the door since Quentin doesn’t seem to care at all about the people working behind him.

You alter between watching his co-workers going about their day - without the slightest knowledge of the filth going on so close to them- and his mouth as it engulfs your juicy lips. It’s almost exciting to think about. You feel so dirty and yet, so fucking good letting him use you so openly.

Your muscles burn as Quin shoves your knees apart. His lips hungrily wraps around your lips, letting his tongue lap up the wetness building up. You lean back on your elbows to let him get more of you.

You moan at his tongue swirls around your sensitive nub, sending sparks of electricity throughout your body. How can you resist him when he feels so good?

“Sir, feels so good” you whisper.

You lick your dry lips as you lay spread with his head between your legs. He hums with delight as he catches you watching the glass walls.

“You like it don’t you?” he mumbles sliding two fingers into your hole.

You hear the vibrating hum again, but nod at his question. Why is the AC so strange here?

His fingers push into the sides of your entrance, prying your hole open with the most delicious burn. His tongue slides into the hole, eagerly lapping up your sweet juice. He fucks you with his tongue and you finally surrender yourself to him completely.

There is no use in fighting back. He wins. Quentin always gets what he wants when he wants it. And he wants you now. His only argument is devouring your pussy with a hunger so deep that you’re not sure if you’re enough to satisfy. 

“Pussy so juice, baby” he mutters to your cunt. “Gotta fuck it with my cock now. Need you so bad.”

His cock feels as if it’s about to break through his pants. He wastes no time and stands up between your legs, quickly unfastening his belt and pants.

His cock springs free from it’s confines, hard already. You wince biting your lower lip. The low hum that you’ve been hearing seems even closer now. You frown and try to find the source, but you’re forced out your thoughts when Quin’s tip glides up your swollen folds and pokes at your nub.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your cunt is soaking wet as he lathers his cock with it. You watch his face contort from the pleasure. He moans and rolls his head back. He could cum just from the feeling your puffy lips hugging his dick.

He looks back down to watch himself penetrate you. His cock feels so big in you. It parts you in half as it pushes in deeper. The stretch hurts a bit, but he’s not going to ease up. This isn’t about your comfort; it’s about his need for release.

You remind yourself to breathe. The tightness around his cock feels heavenly to him, but you force yourself to relax to make it less painful.

As he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, you reach down to caress your sensitive clit to try and enjoy it more.

“Such a dirty fucking slut. Look at you. You wanna cum on my cock, princess?”

“Yes, sir.”

He chuckles and delivers a couple more slaps to your exposed breasts, leaving them red and warmly tender to the touch.

He orders you to lie on your back and squeeze your own tits. His cock bottoms out inside of you. From some reason, the deep humming seems to be coming from right above you. You look up at the ceiling trying to find the source again, but there’s nothing there.

As his hips move back to retract from your cunt, he pushes your knees to your chest. Just when you think your pussy couldn’t be anymore exposed.

With his hands on the back of your thighs, he leans down to spit on your cunt. It’s spread so open; he doesn’t even need his hands to guide his head inside your hole. His dick glides into your stretched wetness.

He fucks so rough and hard; you know you’ll be sore for days.

The panties bundled into a string rub along the side of your cunt. It burns your skin, but all you think about is how good his cock starting to feel.

Your clit trembles at the pleasure.

“P-please, sir. Can I touch myself?”

His dark smile grows wide.

“Only ‘cause you remembered to ask, princess.”

You quickly reach down to your cunt to rub yourself where you need it most. It finally feels so good.

“Pussy so fucking wet. Make yourself cum on my cock.”

You can hear how wet you really are. You can feel your slick spread all around and stick to his groin. You wish you weren’t as wet as you are. You know he takes so much pride in knowing he makes you that way.

His balls thump faster against your ass as he picks up his pace. You’re so full of him; it’s pushing you over the edge. The bundling pressure finally bursts inside you.

As your walls contract and tighten around his pounding cock, you keep your eyes locked on the glass wall praying no one would hear or enter the lab. He wishes he could spend all day doing this; just fucking you silly until he’s too spent.

 His throbbing cock shows he’s so close.

Leaving you aching to be full again, he pulls himself out and finally cums. He coats your swollen pussy lips with his warm string of white beads, painting you like a canvas.  He haphazardly pulls your panties back over your drenched cunt to pump his final load over your panties.

He chuckles tiredly feeling his cum quickly soak through the lace with the tip of his cock. The idea of you walking out that door and down the building, all the way home with your pussy and panties coated with his cum excites him.

“Stay dirty until you get home.”

You nod as he lets you climb down from the table. You both redress and adjust your clothes to return to your day. Your legs feel like they barely hold you up.

“Give sir a kiss goodbye” he smiles enjoying the power he has over you.

You obey and press your lips to his, letting it linger for as long as he wants.

“We having steak for dinner tonight?” he whispers holding your hips.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I’ll be home early.”

You smile as he reaches up your skirt to confirm his cum is still where he wants it.

“Keep ‘em on all day. I’d better come home and find this still on my pussy.”

“You will, sir” you nodded obediently. Your pussy tingles at his touch, anxious for more.

He gives you one more kiss to let you go and slaps your ass as you turn to walk to the door. With your pussy beyond soaked, your wetness mixes with his cum and trickle down your inner thighs. It makes your walk a little difficult as you pray it doesn’t drip out.

You make your way out of the lab and walk towards the elevator, hoping no one will notice. You feel a few pairs of eyes on you. Whether they know or not, you can’t be sure. So, you just smile shyly at them and keep your gaze down.

Quentin watches you step into the elevator from the lab. Finally sitting back at his station, he lifts a thin tablet from his desk and presses an icon.

The drone, which is controlled by the tablet, reveals itself as it deactivates its cloaking device. Now fully visible, he lands it on the table to deactivate the drone entirely.

Quin leans back in his chair with a mischievous grin as he raises the tablet. Pressing a few more icons on the touchscreen tablet, he smirks grimly as he watches the previous recording saved on the device. With the touch of a button, he expands the video into holograph mode.

His technology finally worked.

The holograph shows you with your cunt fully exposed, being fucked by him on the table. He rewinds it to watch it from the start, laughing to himself proudly.

“Thank you, princess.”

#quentin beck #quentin beck imagine #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck x you #quentin beck x y/n #quentin beck x f!reader #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal

[cheynovak]

A new addiction

Jensen Ackles x F/reader (Y/N)

Warning: 18+, nothing too graphic but still, age difference, Open relationship

Let's make it very clear I don't want to denigrate, break up or talk bad about Danneel, their relationship or family. I love them and wish both all the happiness. 

This story is pure fiction. Have fun!

-> A new addiction masterlist <-

‐---------

Story: 

Jensen and Danneel are going through a difficult time in their relationship. After being together for so long and married for 14 years the excitement and sexual tension is gone. 

After going to marriage counseling Danneel had the idea of trying a semi-open relationship, each choosing 3 persons they are allowed to experiment with. 

And guess who is on Jensen's list…

– 

“Did you have time to think about it?” Danneel asked her husband on the phone. Jensen sat at the bar in the hotel he was staying. Phone to his ear. He had to film for a new season of the boys, right after he and Danneel had a tough counseling session.

“Honestly, I don't know if I like the idea of you and other man.” He sighs. “It's not just me and other man. It's about trusting each other, Jay. And you know, staying satisfied when we're apart for a long time.” Jensen didn't answer. He noticed his new costar Y/N walking in. She nodded friendly but let him be since he was on the phone. 

“Just, just let me think about it some more.” He said “But honey I got to go. Talk soon?” - “Yeah, sure. Love you.” -"Love you.” He ended the call still looking at Y/N sitting all by herself enjoying her drink while reading a book.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked. Her eyes moves from the book to his green eyes. “No, no of course not. please sit.” She was always so friendly to him. “Was that Danneel?” she asked with a sweet voice. “Eh yes.” He sighs, not looking all too happy. “Everything ok?” She looked worried while placing her hand on his arm. 

“Yeah, we're just… having a hard time, being apart and all.” He found himself confessing. “Want to talk about it?” -”Not really.” Jensen took a sip of his drink. “So how do you like it, your first big project, right?” He asked to change the topic. 

“It's different than I thought. But I'm glad you all accept me.” He saw how her face lit up. Y/N was new to the scene. She started acting at a later age than most of the people Jensen knew. This was her first big project.

“But I have to be honest, I'm quite nervous for our scene tomorrow.” Jensen noticed her cheeks getting a shade of pink. “You mean the spicy scene?” She nodded, not looking at him. “Don't be, I mean, it's always awkward shooting a scene like that, don't get me wrong. But I'm sure you'll wing it like you did every scene so far.” 

“I'm glad it's with you.” That confession stunned Jensen. “What do you mean?” -”I like everyone but for some reason you seem to have the most patience. You taught me so much already.” A smile formed on his face. “Well, you are an easy learner kid.”

Y/N lifted her glass “Here is to easy co-workers and awkward scenes.” - “Cheers” 

That night Jensen got to know Y/N even better. “Aren't you afraid for the comments?” Jensen asked. Y/n lifted a brow. “Being my on screen love interest with 18 years age difference.” 

“What's 18 years? We're both adults. It's not like there is an actual 40 year gap. Besides, you don't look all too bad.”  Jensen noticed how the alcohol made her talk more freely. “Oh really? You're just enjoying the view then.” He joked. 

“Don't flatter yourself, Ackles.” She blushed. 

Y/N got up. “It's time for me to hit the sack. Big day tomorrow.” She winked while tapping his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” He said staying just a little longer. 

When Jensen got to his hotel room he started to think about what Danneel suggested. Each choosing 3 people who they were allowed to have sex with. 3 people… Jensen didn't even think he could find 3 women he wanted to have sex with. Most women he knew were either married or in a relationship with a close friend. Or not his type.

Maybe… Y/N? She is friendly, has nice curves, a beautiful smile, and mesmerizing eyes… his mind started to dwell, imagining how her skin would feel under his touch. How her lips would taste when he kissed her. He could picture her face while hovering over her. The shape her mouth would form when he thrusted in her. Her pleading eyes, her moans…

For fuck sake, Jensen he thought breaking the daydream, feeling embarrassed even thinking about her like that. 

–

The next day Jensen got to the set seeing Y/N in a robe ready for their scene. It was a love scene between Soldier boy and her character. He could see how nervous she was. Fiddling on her robe, trying to play it cool. When she saw Jensen a soft smile appeared. 

PLACES! 

“Jensen, Y/N we need to film this from different angles. So we're going to start of slow so you two can get into the vibe.” The director yelled. “But not too much.” Jensen joked whispering in her ear, earning a small gniffel from her, while trying to pay attention. 

The second she undid her robe it revealed the spicy black laced lingerie. It fitted every curve of her body, snatched in all the right places. Jensen felt his veins burning. She looked even better than he imagined last night. 

DON'T think about that Jay… Be cool. 

After a few scenes the awkwardness disappeared and both actors were capable of a laugh in between takes. Time flies by, the last scene approaching. “Alright guys, We agreed with Y/N no frontal nudes. Make sure we don't see Jensen's briefs. Take your places.” Y/N had to straddle Jensen's lap, their hips barely covered with the white blanket.  

The second Y/N removed her bra the world around him disappeared. All he could see was her on top of him. Feeling her hands on his chest, her eyes locked with his,  her lips slightly separated. Jensen's hands moved on autopilot over her skin. fingertips caressing her thighs, kneading her hips. Unconsciously pulling her closer. 

Lips attached, heavy breaths filled the scene. “I need more noise.” They heard the director behind the camera yell. Please don't do this to me. But Y/N listened and started to moan harder and louder than before. Leaving Jensen mesmerized by the sound. 

Y/N felt how Jensen moved her hips over his. She could feel the bulge in his pants growing. The feeling took her by surprise, making her take in a sharp breath, widening her eyes. Her reaction pulled Jensen back to reality. Realizing what was happening down there. Making him quickly sit up. Placing his hands on her back. His lips to her ear out of sight of the camera. “Sorry” He whispered.  Trying not to come off as a creep. 

Y/N pulled his face back, looking in his eyes trying to find a way to say it was ok. Deciding on kissing him hard before moving over to his neck. Neither stopped the grinding until they heard they had enough on tape to work with. Y/N looked at Jensen knowing they wanted to film the next scene at once. 

He placed his back against the bed again. Hearing how they will reset the camera before moving on. Y/N had to lay next to him. Meaning the now fully grown erection will be shown underneath the blanket. Y/N crawled off Jensen. But kept her knee up and over his leg. Lifting the blanket just enough. 

By the end of those scenes Jensen was able to cool down. Noticing how quick Y/N got dressed leaving the scene. Great, she must think I'm an old creep. “Jensen,  great work you two! Pulling her in like that, holding her close… amazing perfect!” - “ Yeah, eh thanks man.” He said still looking at the door Y/N just left. 

Later that night he thought of what had happened. It wasn't like him to let himself go like that. But he couldn't keep her out of his mind. So he decided to distract himself by calling Danneel. After some small talk he brought up her proposition.  

“If we do this… Do we tell each other who we choose?” he asked her “What do you think?” - “I don't think I want to know who or when.” He answered honestly. - “Then we don't.” -” Did you find someone?” he asked with a little doubt. “I know a man or two who wouldn't say no.” of course you're fucking hot. “You?” She asked. “Eh, No, but I thought about it. And I might think of one.” 

“Just one?” -” Yeah. I'm not going to fuck around.” 

“Neither am I. But we said a maximum 3 different people we can ask right? ” -”I think I just start with one. See how I feel. If one of us doesn't like it… we stop, right?”  -”ok” and with that he agreed to the open relationship test. 

–

It took all the strength he had to face Y/N the next morning. He knocked on her trailer. Seeing the surprise on her face when she answered. “Hi, do you have a minute?” He asked taking off his sunglasses. “Come in.” Y/N moved aside, Jensen looked around the trailer while she took a seat. “About yesterday… I am so, so sorry Y/N. That never happened to me before.” 

A soft smile appeared on her face.  “It's ok.” -” Clearly it isn't. You practically ran off set.” She nodded. “It was intense. But me leaving had nothing to do with you.” -”Are you sure?” He looked like a beaten dog, still apologizing even though she said it was ok. “I'll take it as an compliment, that my acting skills look real” 

This made Jensen laugh. 

“To be honest… it wasn't just you who felt something.” She said looking at her hands. “ I ran to clean myself up. I was so embarrassed.” She spoke barely loud enough to hear. Jensen's hands moved to her face making her look up at him. Wanting to tell her how much he wants her. Only to say “Our secret?” They hugged before Jay walked out the door. “Oh and thank you for covering me… literally.” 

– 

Weeks after that scene things practically changed back to how they were before. Friendly and fun, never mentioning what happened that day. 

Tonight was the last night in the hotel before going back home in the morning. 

Jensen was torn between telling Y/N and leaving it be. Going home to his wife, knowing she might held her end of their deal and slept with someone else. 

After a few drinks from the minibar, not too drunk but with enough courage, he knocked on Y/N's door. She opened with a confused look on her face. “Jay… Everything ok? It's late.” -”Can I…” Y/N moved her body so he could walk in. 

Y/N couldn’t shake the worried look on her face. Sitting down next to him on the foot end of the bed.“Do you remember I said Danneel and I had a difficult time?” He started their conversation. Jensen took his time to explain what they agreed on. Leaving Y/N nodding and listening. 

“So you're in a semi open relationship?” She said to recap his story. 

“And you can both choose 3 people to sleep with.” He hummed. “So who did you choose?” She asked looking at him, noticing an unspoken question, hope in his eyes. “Oh… you mean you're here to ask…” unable to finish that sentence.  “To, ask you.” He added. “Why me?” 

That question took him by surprise. “Eh, I thought long about who I should ask, and no one came to my mind except you. And well, when we did that scene.” He whistled “Even my body agreed.” 

Y/N didn't answer, which made Jensen nervous

Here you are, asking her to sleep with a guy 18 years older… you pervert

“I'm honored you think of me. But I don't know if I can do that Jay.” -”Why not?” She smiled “I really, really like you. And I'm scared that if we get physical one too many times, I might grow to love you.” 

She bit her lip. Wishing Jensen he could be the one nibbling at her. “And by the explanation you give me, you are looking for pure physical touch. I'm just not into open relationships and becoming someone's mistress…” 

Jensen understood and was glad she was honest. Y/N walked him to the door. “Jay?” She held his arm back, making him turn back to her, locking eye. Y/N's eyes roamed his perfect freckles, his hopeful eyes, The plump and kissable lips. 

“Fuck this.” she breathed out before her lips smashed against his. Pulling him back inside when he pushed to door closed with his foot. Giving in to her lust for him after weeks fantasising about him.

Both quickly stripping from their clothes leaving them standing naked in the middle of the dimly lit room, soft light coming from outside cast flickering shadows across the walls as Y/N and Jensen stood facing each other, their gazes locked in an intense embrace. The air was filled with anticipation, charged with the electricity of their unspoken desires. 

Jensen reached out, gently tracing the curve of her side over to her behind with his fingertips, sending shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch, the scent of his cologne enveloping her like a comforting embrace.

With a tender whisper, “So beautiful.” Jensen brushed his lips against hers, igniting a firestorm of passion between them. Their kiss was slow and deep, each moment filled with an unspoken promise of longing.

As their lips parted, Y/N's heart raced with anticipation, her eyes searching Jensen’s for affirmation. In that silent exchange, they found solace and understanding. Jensen laid her down on the bed surrounded by a sea of pillows. 

With a playful grin, Jensen reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Y/N's ear, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. She leaned into his touch, her eyes sparkling.

Lost in the depths of each other's eyes, they surrendered to their longing and lust letting go of the world outside as they melted into each other's arms. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the overwhelming sensation of their bodies connecting, tangled like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.

Their moans were a symphony, each touch and caress a note in the melody of their passion. And as they fell deeper into the embrace of the night, they knew that they were deeper in over their head than they wanted. 

Needing nothing more than the pleading sounds of the other. Hearing how their touch brings pleasure to the other. 

Jensen's thrusts were long, deep, caring and loving. Nothing like Y/N had experienced before. Usually she needed hard and rough to feel pleased.  But Jensen made her experience a whole new way of intimacy. 

The heat of her orgasm floated over her like nothing had ever done. Feeling how her body tingling with warmth, needing to feel him closer. 

Not long after she felt how Jensen's body reacted to hers. She placed her hand on his cheek. Locking eyes while both coming down from their height. 

As Jensen  pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, Y/N rested her hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while he hovered over her. 

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, lost in each other's eyes, savoring the sweetness of the moment.

And as the world outside once again faded away, all that remained was the undeniable bond that neither of them predicted. 

That was the moment Jensen knew, he wanted nothing more than to recreate this night with her over and over again.

Addicted to her touch. 

---‐--

My first story about Jensen. I feel kind of weird writing about a real person. Let alone a married man. Anyone else feel the same? 

Please feel free to like, share or comment. Make sure you check out my masterlist.

#fanfic #fluff #smut #the boys #x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy #the boys amazon #dean winchester #spn #18+ content #18+ only #18+ blog #jensen fucking ackles #jensenedit #the boys series #spicy content

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Ifrit/Rain, mentions of Ifrit/Dewdrop/Rain

Tags: Public Masturbation, Semi-public blowjobs, possessive behavior, Cuckolding, kink denial on Dew's part but it's fine he's fine it's fine they're all fine.

Summary:

"Dewdrop." He finishes stupidly.

Rain shrugs, a strap of his camisole falling down one shoulder with the motion.

"My Dewdrop…" he muses, tracing patterns on Ifrit's thigh. "I like the sound of that."

Ifrit doesn't remember how the night began and he's certain he won't remember how it ends but that doesn't matter right now. Right now he's got a nice buzz going, a nice grassy spot under a tree to stare at the sky and his hand wrapped around his cock because hey. Why not.

If he concentrates, he can hear the others by the bonfire, still whooping and hollering as they dance and fight and fuck. He could join them but that would mean moving more than just his hand across his dick and he's not really feeling it right now. More interested in feeling himself. Maybe one of the others will stumble across, offer their own hand or mouth or even more but for now, Ifrit's intent on a little self-love.

There's no point in saying he's not vain because he absolutely is. This physical form had been good-looking to start with and when he found out he could modify it? Just by moving around or getting inked up? Siblings were practically lining up at the gate for his, heh, personal attention in the gym as a trainer. He was completely focused and professional during classes. But once that session was up? They knew where to find him.

Wasn't just the human Clergy either. Mist liked it when he wrestled with her, winner take all. Alpha needed the occasional beatdown too and Omega was perfect for when he wanted his ankles by his ears and a fat cock pushing so far into his guts he could taste it.

Just thinking about it made a pretty pearl of cum bead up from his tip. He smears it over the ruddy head with his thumb, rolls his hips as he toys with the slit and thinks about the others.

Dew was so cute to rile up. He could get spitting mad over some teasing and all Ifrit would have to do was look down and see where all the blood went. Only made the little guy madder, but all Ifrit had to do to apologize was kiss it until it was all better and the flush on Dew’s face was from pleasure and not fury.

Been a while since they hooked up, Ifrit thinks. A little bittersweetness lies in the memories, how Dew had found himself wrapped up in a new role and a new pack while Ifrit was left behind but he doesn't hold a grudge. Just wishes they could meet up again, see if he still has a temper or he’s gotten it under control. Ifrit's seen the way that multi-ghoul needles him, nothing short of a masterpiece there. He’d love to team up with him to make Dew cry sometime and his cock throbs in agreement.

Then there's that pretty water ghoul. Rain. Ifrit's been dying to get to know him all kinds of ways. See if he gets as wet as Dew used to, before his transition. He saw the two of them earlier, before the party really got going and okay, they looked good together. Dew looked downright snappy whenever someone tried to lure Rain away and that was just adorable. Like a dragon angrily guarding the first shiny trinket of its horde.

Monogamy isn't really a thing to the ghouls. Why would it be? Still, sometimes they can get possessive over each other. Dew's definitely got the worst case of it Ifrit's ever seen over Rain. He'd curled himself tight around the water ghoul, scenting him something fierce. Ifrit could pick it up from halfway across the field. And okay, it was a little cute. New love, and all that.

He blinks. Right, that's how he came to be here pumping his dick. He got so caught up in the vision of Dew and Rain and their entangled limbs, combined with the noises of a few threesomes happening, his mind laid out a beautiful picture of himself sandwiched between the two of them. Maybe he could coach Rain on how best to rile up Dew, get his little cock as red as his face. What to say to make his brow furrow even as he huffs out a too-quick orgasm.

Speaking of…

His balls already tight, Ifrit lets himself go and sighs at the way it aches when he does. He's got better stamina but he's been here a while, whatever he drank is working its dirty little magic on him and the night is still young. Wouldn't want to wear himself out too quickly.

If he listens, he can hear Mist crying in that perfect way she does when someone's licking her cunt and someone else is doing her gills. Belial, she's cute. Maybe he just has a thing for water ghouls, but who wouldn't with all their sensitivities and tendencies to get so wet. Maybe he should get up and join them, attack her gills from the other side and really get her going, get a few fingers stuffed up her cunt, make her squirt like she always does. His hand wraps around himself again and before he knows it, he's got his tongue in Rain's gills instead, frenching him from the inside while he bounces on Ifrit's lap, claws digging into his shoulders. Feeling Rain gasp for air as he creams around Ifrit's cock, Dew’s eyes dark with fury.

“You look like you're having fun.” Comes a soft voice and Ifrit chuckles, squeezing the base of his cock.

“Just thinking about you.” He says honestly, cracking his eye to peer at Rain. He looks good tonight. Always looks good but this is the first time Ifrit's seen him in something other than his uniform, a pair of light blue shorts that skim the tops of his thighs and a sleeveless shirt with thin straps and thinner fabric. Ifrit’s eyes lazily slide up and then firmly look back down, no shame. Dew’s not here to hiss and snarl, Ifrit's going to take advantage. As much as Rain will let him.

“We’ve never been properly introduced.” Rain muses, coming closer. “I know your name though. Seen you around. Seen some footage.”

“Do you like what you see?” Ifrit asks, angling himself so Rain can get an eyeful of his body, toned muscles and cock on full display. Like before. He's not shy about his own vanity. He half expects his confidence to intimidate the quiet water ghoul but Rain…Rain laughs at him. No one's ever laughed at Ifrit before.

He doesn't know if he likes it or not.

“Dew said you were cocky.” He drops to his hands and knees, tail coiling behind him. His eyes narrow as he comes up between Ifrit's thighs and smiles with a little too much fang for comfort. “He wouldn't be happy if he knew I was with you.”

“Then why are you here anyway?” Ifrit asks bluntly, trying to regain a foothold in the strange shift that he's pretty sure just happened.

“Because sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Rain tells him with a nip to his skin that sends Ifrit reeling. No way this is happening. He can still smell Dew on Rain's clothes, smoke and anger and lust. So much lust.

"Isn't Dewdrop your, uh…" Boyfriend is the first word that comes to mind but it doesn't feel right. Too human, too exclusive. Packmate would be the best option yet it still feels too casual for whatever the hell those two have going on. He and Dew were packmates and they were never so touchy-feely as he is with Rain. He vaguely remembers Dew getting a little weird about Aether when he was first summoned but it still had nothing on how he behaved now. Rain seems to humor it and continue to do his own thing when Dew's not looking but he still doesn't want to get on the little guy's bad side and ruin any possibilities.

"Dewdrop." He finishes stupidly.

Rain shrugs, a strap of his camisole falling down one shoulder with the motion.

"My Dewdrop…" he muses, tracing patterns on Ifrit's thigh. "I like the sound of that."

His fingers tickle dangerously high and Ifrit squirms against the tree.

"Well," Rain continues thoughtfully, casually wrapping his hand around the base of Ifrit's cock, hiding the sudden flare of his tattoos as he begins to stroke him slowly. "My Dewdrop said he didn't want you touching me. So don't touch me. And we'll be alright."

Ifrit feels far from alright at this moment in time, but then Rain's bowing to dab his soft tongue to the underside and he can't find it in him to argue. The first gentle lap hits him harder than a punch, the second, somehow even worse. Rain entertains himself with Ifrit's cock like he's got all the time in the world; sliding the foreskin to and fro over the ridge, mouthing at the tip and going even lower to fit both of Ifrit's balls in his mouth. Going back up and rubbing his cheek against the head to smear the beads of pre cum all across his face.

"These are pretty," he remarks, so casual as if he was admiring a garden or a display of jewelry. Ifrit doesn't even know what he's talking about at first until Rain starts tracing the outline of his tattoos with his tongue. He got them done months ago, glyphs written and designed to further pleasure a partner. Maybe one or two thrown in so no matter how he thrusts, he always hits the best spots.

"Enchanted?" He asks, looking at Ifrit with his dark eyes, pressing a kiss to the shaft. Ifrit nods stupidly, fingers curling in the grass to keep from grabbing Rain's head and pushing him down again, make that pretty mouth drool with how Ifrit would fuck it.

"Thought so." Rain says with satisfaction. "I like the way it tingles when I touch them. Must feel good to get fucked by a cock like this."

"I've had no complaints." Ifrit gasps as Rain lays his tongue flat to slap his cock against it. He's such an active participant in his past flings that it feels off-putting to just sit here and let himself be…be toyed with. He doesn't even think Rain's blinked once since settling between his thighs and it's unnerving.

"When Dew calms down a bit," Rain starts, moving Ifrit's cock this way and that to admire all of his tattoos as they glow. "With this whole possessive thing. Maybe I'll ride it."

"Fuh-" Ifrit hisses as a large blurt of precum oozes out of his slit. Rain drinks it down then goes even further, opening his jaw for Ifrit to easily slide in without grazing any fangs. "Fucking, oh, oh that's good."

He's so pent up from touching himself earlier, thinking he wouldn't have to worry about stamina. Now he's got Rain making the sweetest, choked noises as he fucks his face on Ifrit's dick, nice and sloppy, getting his saliva all over Ifrit's balls while he gags on it. Ifrit's tearing up handfuls of grass as Rain brutalizes his own throat, moaning and trying to stifle his moans at the same time, lest Dewdrop catch them in the act and get royally pissed off.

Rain would probably just kiss him with a mouth of Ifrit's cum, his brain offers up and it's over.

He cums with a pained noise, faster than he'd like to but again he’d been working himself up decently beforehand and if he knew Rain was going to go to town on him, he would have saved his stamina. He tries to warn Rain with a stuttered exclamation as his body locks up. Rain just pulls away to tug at his cock and Ifrit starts praying Rain will put it back in his mouth and swallow but he keeps pumping his hand at first. Aims so the first spray lands thick over his eyelashes, the second glossing his full lips, smearing the head around before kissing it and pushing down to take Ifrit in, letting him finish directly down his tight throat.

“Fuck!” Ifrit shouts, hitting his head on the tree when he throws it back, trying to fuck Rain's mouth for the last few flexes of his cock. Rain keeps still, lets his jaw hang open as Ifrit pushes his cum back in as it drools out, relishing the slide of Rain’s tongue on his skin even as he slips into oversensitivity and the friction is too much. Rain lets him go with a final kiss and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Ifrit's cum is dabbed off Rain’s eyelashes with his ring finger, also licked clean. There's something almost feline about him as he does it, looking so beautiful in the fractured moonlight coming down from between the branches.

"Can I," Ifrit starts. "Do you…anything?" He sounds stupid to himself and can't even imagine what he sounds like to Rain, staring down at him with a passive, unreadable expression.

"I already got mine." He says carelessly, flopping back and spreading his thighs to show off the wet fabric of his tight little shorts clinging to his cunt. Ifrit swallows thickly, eyes riveted on the way he drags his fingers softly over it. He can see the way they bump over the shape of his swollen clit and Ifrit moans right along with Rain when he rubs the tip of it.

"Swiss and Aether." He tells Ifrit, a subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. He raises a leg and uses the motion to flip himself over, lifting his tail to reveal another damp spot just underneath that's slowly drooled out enough cum to combine with the first one.

"Mountain."

Ifrit practically convulses with the longing stab of arousal the sight gives him, wheezing as Rain wiggles his shorts down to give him a better look at his well-used holes, swaying his hips and letting them gape for the briefest of moments, before shimmying his clothes back on and doing something elegant and twisted that results in him standing up, hand on his hip. Looking down at Ifrit with an amused little smile.

“Dew always forgives me if I confess everything. Helps to give him a demonstration too…So he knows what he missed out on.” It's said in such a blaisè tone for all the heavy implications in the words, Ifrit can't quite believe what he just heard. Just stares open mouthed at Rain with his soft cock wilting against his thigh and his ears ringing. Rain covers his laugh and leans close. Lets Ifrit get a nice view of his tits down his top as he takes two fingers, the two he'd touched himself with, and pets Ifrit's tongue. Before he knows what he's doing, he closes his lips around them and sucks, shivering at the faint taste of salt and sex.

“You're cute.” Rain says. “I hope I get to play with you again.”

He tries to say something but what exactly he wants to say he doesn't know. It just comes out as a stupid little uh-huh around Rain’s fingers as he withdraws them. He chases them but then Rain’s giving him a little head shake, wiping them on Ifrit's cheek and he falls back, defeated and stunned. Rain giving him that mischievous little smile the whole time.

“See you ‘round.” He says, tapping those same two fingers against his eyebrows, giving Ifrit a lazy salute. The fingers go from his temple to his mouth, where Rain spreads them and licks lasciviously in between with a wicked little wink before turning and walking off, leaving Ifrit to stare at the way his hips swing in well fucked and insouciant little half circles. How he's not limping is beyond anyone's guess.

“Damn…” he wheezes, head hitting the trunk. “Just… damn.”

What a night.

#Ifrit x rain #rain x dewdrop #ifrit x rain x dewdrop #nsft #cw cucking #damn i actually finished it really quick. that means there's something wrong with it.

[marwritesgood]

Kiss it Better

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader

Summary: While Y/n was used to going unnoticed, she was all Steve could think about.

series masterlist // main masterlist

A/N: Just some indulgent fluff in the form of backstory before we get back to the main story line.

November, 1982

Y/n shoved her books into her locker and let out a huff. It had been a long school day and she had only an hour to commute to her part time job and don the most hideous uniform known to man. A hell of a start to sixteen, but she had had worst birthdays. This one would be different, she was sure of it.

Slamming the door shut, she jolted as she recognised Steve leaning against the lockers adjacent to hers, grinning like he knew something she did not. Y/n tightened her grip on her bag and cocked her brow, mostly amused and the smallest bit flustered. She drew her lips together tightly, trying not to think about how flushed she felt.

“Did you see our grade?”

It was his first A in a while, but that wasn't what had him feeling giddy, it was the excuse he had to go to her locker and strike up a conversation with her. After their time working on their group project came to an end, he had been grasping at straws trying to find reasons to talk to her, to hear her voice again.

“I did. You’re welcome," Y/n smirked. Steve scoffed jokingly.

“I’m pretty sure it was my good looks and charisma that swayed Mrs Madison." He inched closer to her, brows raised teasingly. Y/n narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth perking up.

She could never tell if the type of banter they had was platonic or if it was just a consequence of Steve being the biggest flirt in Hawkins, but she knew it was risky to think anything else of it.

“No, I think it was my research.”

Steve chuckled, standing straight. They were quite the unlikely duo, but he liked to believe

“Well either way, we make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, smiling affectionately.

When she was first assigned as his partner for the project, she had more than her fair share of reservations. Now, her feelings towards Steve had become far more complicated for all the best reasons.

Steve put his hands in his pockets and glanced down momentarily at his shoes, contemplating what to say next. He met her gaze with a nervous smile and began to back away.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

Y/n nodded, her expression dimming until she noticed Steve’s feet come to a halt. Suddenly, he was turning back to her, his face lit up.

“Oh, and happy birthday.”

She froze, her brows knitted together, puzzled. No one ever really remembered to wish her a happy birthday except for a handful of her friends and Flo from the station.

“How do you know-“

“You mentioned it last week, remember?”

Steve felt a knot form in his stomach as he realised how potentially weird it was for him to remember a comment she brought up nonchalantly eight days ago. Steve was so sure she would grimace and find a way to politely exit the conversation, but she just smiled.

Y/n barely remembered mentioning it, yet he did.

“Um, you know actually I’m having some friends over at my place tonight, if you wanted to come,” Steve added.

It was nothing special, but if Y/n was going to be there, he knew it would be a good night. Maybe he would even get her a cake, and a nice gift that didn't cross the friend-line too far for comfort.

Y/n gave it a moment's deliberation and frowned, deciding the plans she had already set in stone were too precious to cancel.

“Thanks, Steve, but I... I’m having dinner with my dad tonight.”

Steve smiled defeatedly and nodded huffed, looking around the corridor as more and more students were heading out the door until his eyes landed on one of the posters for the upcoming dance. Steve drew in a sharp breath and wondered if he could muster up the courage to finally ask her. She was preoccupied buttoning up her cardigan, and it seemed like as good a time as any.

“Well, hey, the winter dance is coming up in a couple weeks and I…”

Her eyes shot up as did her hopes, despite her best efforts to steady herself and remember play it cool. It was just another stupid high school dance she would inevitably find herself at, but if somehow she ended up going with Steve, something inside her knew it would be different.

She watched intently anticipating his next words. Steve had been holding his breath, choked up at the way she was gazing at him. Panic began to seep in.

“I know the band that’s playing," he blurted out rapidly. "They’re pretty good, so should be fun night.”

“Oh." There was no hiding her disappointment. Her shoulder slumped but she maintained some semblance of a smile. “That’s cool... I guess.”

Steve swallowed thickly. He could have sworn the light in her expression dimmed, and he hated himself for chickening out, but there was always a voice that questioned if he was just kidding himself. It was hard to hear anything over it.

“Well, have a nice dinner with your dad,” Steve murmured before turning around and walking away. There was still plenty of time before the dance, perhaps by then he will have worked up the courage to ask her.

***

April, 1983

The passenger seat of Steve's car may as well have had her name written on it. It remained in the exact position Y/n had it adjusted to and the clutter she couldn't manage to squeeze into her bag by the time she had to go. Steve would not have had it any other way.

Her uniform was drenched in rainwater from just the distance she had to run from the store to the parking lot. Steve gave her on of his jackets to drape over her shoulders for the car ride, mumbling something about the radiator being broken and not wanting her to catch a cold. Y/n was too distracted by the smell of his cologne to remember his exact words.

He drove slower than normal, taking his time to focus on what he could make out of the road markings in between his windshield wipers going back and forth rapidly.

“Thanks again for giving me a ride home," Y/n said loudly, making sure he heard her clearly. His eyes never leaving the road ahead, Steve smiled easily and shrugged.

“It’s nothing.”

He did not have to think twice about it. When Y/n told him she finished in 5 and he knew the rain would only getting heavier, Steve knew he would wait around to drive her home so she would not have to wait at the bus stop. There was no chance he was going to do anything else.

Y/n glanced at him, feeling overwhelmed by all that she felt towards him. A year ago, she would have been walking in the rain, thinking about how she would scrape together the leftovers in the fridge to make herself some dinner. Now, she had Steve.

“It’s not nothing.”

Her voice was quieter, but Steve caught what she said and held it tightly. There was a sincerity and vulnerability in her voice, something he knew she let very few people have access to. He liked knowing he had become one of those people.

Steve took a split moment to steal a glance at her. She was sitting in his car, his jacket draped over her shoulders, and she was looking back at him with an expression that drove him crazy. He wanted to remember every second of this moment.

Y/n turned back to the road and her face fell.

“Shit.”

Steve slowed down when he saw it too. A massive portion of a tree must have snapped off from the wind and landed right on the road that led to Y/n's place. Officers had already blocked off the road. A familiar one approached Steve's BMW, walking towards the passenger window, as opposed to Steve's.

Y/n wheeled her window down and gave Officer Robinson a brief hello before immediately asking what the hold up was. There was no other way of getting to the cabin, only through that road. She had already thrown a wrench into Steve's afternoon by letting him drive her home, she hated to think what a road blockage meant.

“It’s gonna be at least a few more hours until we can clear it, Y/n.”

She sighed, frustrated, knowing a few hours meant they may as well clear the rest of their day. She looked to Steve, her face riddled with worry, only to be meant with a calm gaze that brought her ease.

“We can come back later,” he said softly, his tone assuring her it was no biggie even though she knew it was more than a minor inconvenience. Y/n turned back to her dad's colleague.

“We’ll come back later, Robinson.”

The officer nodded and backed away so Steve could turn the car around. The first few minutes of the drive back to the main road was filled with Y/n apologising and asking if he was sure he didn't mind killing time with her. Steve assured her it was fine, but he knew she would be difficult to convince, so he suggested they make an adventure of it.

Apparently Hawkins had a hidden gem, a spot that Steve loved that he knew not many knew of, Y/n included. It was a lookout just around the corner from the post shop. Even through the torrential rain, the view was a sight for sore eyes. The two of them sat in silence at first, as Y/n looked around through the windshield. Then, she heard the faint sound of Steve's stomach rumbling. She turned to him and smiled, amused.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?"

“Starving," he answered. He was supposed to pick up something to eat after stopping at Melvald's, but ended up getting sidetracked and forgetting about it completely.

Y/n grinned before picking her bag up and placing it on her lap. She reached in and pulled out a small box, one ominously familiar to Steve.

“Good thing I picked up some donuts on my break," she exclaimed, opening the box up to reveal four of the custard donuts from her favourite bakery, the very donuts Steve teared up trying to stomach just a month ago.

He gulped as she picked two of the four donuts and handed, handing one to him. Thankfully, she looked away just as Steve began to grimace. He stared at the abomination and decided to try his luck at keeping Y/n distracted from realising that he had not and would not eat it.

It was a good thing the lookout oversaw such a nice view. Y/n was scoffing a donut down and going back to looking around.

“How have I not known about this lookout?”

Y/n had grown up in Hawkins just as Steve had. Hell, her dad was the sheriff of the damn town. She was so sure she knew the town back to front when Steve insinuated there was secret spot she did not know about.

“How did you find this place?”

“I have my ways," Steve shrugged. "This is my special spot.”

Y/n scrunched her nose up. Special, she repeated to herself. That was a loaded word.

“Don’t tell me this is where King Steve takes his dates," she grimaced. It was no secret Steve was a player and Y/n often had to remind herself that just because he was good to her, did not necessarily mean his entire persona had changed.

“No,” his answer came quick. Steve turned to her and waited until she was looking back. He needed her to know. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought here.”

She drew in a deep breath and as she breath out, her lips curved into a smile. No one had ever come close to making her feel the way Steve did. Y/n never thought of herself as someone who would have people lose to her. She was used to being alone and keeping everyone, even her own dad at an arm's length. It was better that way, safer. Then Steve came along, and all of that changed.

Y/n desperately wanted him to know that, but she could never bring herself to tell him. It was not the kind of thing friends told each other, and that was all she was to him.

He looked back at the view, and Y/n drew her attention back to her donut, taking another bite and anticipating having a second one.

“Ugh, this is just what I needed," she looked at Steve and realised he was still holding in his hand, though in a way that made her suspect he was trying to hide it. “You haven’t even eaten yours.”

Steve's face went red.

“Yeah… I’m pretty full already."

“But, you said you were starving."

Y/n drew her brows together in confusion and narrowed her eyes at him. He pursed his lips together and she could have sworn she heard him curse beneath his breath.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

She couldn't understand it. Steve was starving and she gave him one of the best donuts in the state of Indiana, but he was refusing to eat it. Finally, it dawned on her.

“Steve. Do you not like the donuts?”

His silence was all the answer she needed. Y/n didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or let out a gasp. Either way, she could not make any sense of it.

“But you said you liked them when you first tried them!”

“I did! I…” Steve knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't dig himself deeper into lie that was only meant to be a little white one. He sighed. “They’re the worst donuts I’ve ever had.”

Y/n laughed curtly in disbelief. If Steve had told her he hated the donuts she loved so dearly, her ego might have been a bit bruised, but she would have been ok overall. She narrowed her eyes, puzzled by what went on beneath that beautiful head of hair.

“Why did you lie?”

Steve thought about it for only a moment. The reason was really quite simple.

“Because it made you happy,” he answered.

Her eyes went wide and everything inside her came to a stand still.

“Oh," was all she could mutter before averting her eyes from his intent gaze. She did not want to sit in silence any longer and let his words continue to simmer in her mind. Y/n knew her heart would not be able to bear it.

For the first time, Steve's car was beginning to suffocate her. Each passing second made her more and more conscious of just how close they were to each other. Y/n desperately needed a change of scenery.

“Hey, where’s that burger place you always talk about?

“It’s next to the post office."

Perfect, she thought. She needed to take a breather and Steve needed something to eat.

“Do you wanna go there and grab a bite?" Y/n quickly glanced at him, her heart still racing. "It’s gonna be a few more hours, anyways."

Steve agreed and started the car up again. It was a short and silent ride to the diner. Steve held the door to his car and the door to the diner open for Y/n, something he had developed a habit of doing, though she never thought much of it. Not until now.

The diner had only a handful of patrons when they got there. Steve muttered something about how he always sat at the counter so he could sneak a peek into the kitchen. The tension between them had begun to settle and by the time their food came, two orders of Steve's usual, things felt normal again.

Y/n took one bite of the burger Steve claimed was the best on the menu and he could hardly contain his anticipation. She chewed slowly, taking in the divine taste, with Steve watching her intently.

“Well, what do you think?”

She shook her head, taking a sip of her milkshake before going back in for more.

“I really wanted to hate it to get back at you for not liking the donuts,” she said honestly. It would have been nice to tease him for it, but there was nothing to tease about. Y/n sighed. “But these burgers are so good!“

After she took another bite, she heard a faint chuckle and realised Steve was smiling at her, clearly amused. Swallowing her bite, Y/n cleared her throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“You… you have a little..."

Before she knew what he was referring to, Steve lifted his hand and swiped his thumb over the left corner of Y/n's lips. Suddenly, she couldn't take her eyes off him. His hand was cool to the touch, but so soft and comforting, she wanted to lean into it. So she did.

After wiping away the mustard remnants, Steve locked eyes with Y/n, but only for a second. He had no time to register it. No time to chicken out and pull away. No time to reason with his anxieties. She leaned in and kissed him. Her hands rose to the sides of his face and he knew he was done for.

A moment passed and Y/n began to pull away, catching her breath as she opened her eyes and came face to face with the most dazed expression she had ever seen, and on Steve Harrington of all people. She could hardly believe that just happened, so much so, she let out a breathless laugh beneath her breath.

“You can’t do that," Steve whispered, pressing his temple against hers, his eyes going back and forth between her eyes and her lips “You can’t just kiss me like that then laugh it was nothing.”

She shook her head.

“It wasn’t nothing.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes momentarily. The fearful voice in the back of his head was nowhere to be found. He looked at her and sighed.

“I like you, Y/n.”

She leaned back and stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You... You what?”

“I like you," he repeated, his voice a little louder. "I really really like you. I have for a while now.”

Y/n heaved, her eyes wide and stare blank.

“Really?”

Steve smiled softly.

“You haven’t noticed?”

He could have sworn there were multiple times he had been terribly obvious about it. After all, most of his afternoons and his weekends belonged to her, as did the passenger seat of his beloved BMW.

Y/n's heart never knew such a rush. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to kiss him again, but she couldn't bring herself to throw caution to the wind and risk getting hurt by yet another person she cared too much about for her own good.

"Are you being serious?"

Steve put his hand in her and laced their fingers together slowly.

“You... You do this thing with your hands when you're focused and at first I thought it was just a crush but then… Then I kept looking for excuses to talk to you. Just to hear you say my name again."

It was like nothing he had ever felt before.

"And I listened to that ‘60s song you said was your favourite," he added. The Bee Gees were not necessarily his kind of music, but the way she described it and the way her face lit up when she heard that one particular song made him want to listen to it everyday. "I even got it on cassette so I could just casually play it in my car. And I pretended to like those terrible donuts just ‘cause it made you smile, and-“

She did it again. Leaned in and kissed him softly, shutting him up completely, silencing every thought and every voice that echoed in his mind until all he could think about was the feeling of her touch.

Y/n pulled away quickly this time. She really only kissed him to shut him up long enough so she could finally get a word in.

“I like you too," she admitted, betraying the emotionally unavailable persona she once took great pride in maintaining and deciding she liked her odds when it came to Steve.

He stared at her, lifting his hands until the sides of her face were in between his left and right fingertips. He wanted to take it in for a moment. Just a moment. Then, he leaned in and kissed her, soft and fervently.

Even with her eyes closed, Y/n could picture everything around her glowing. Her suspicions were confirmed when they pulled apart and she looked around at a room that appeared tenfold brighter than she remembered. It had been a while since she felt anything close to that.

“Do you think the road’s clear now?” Steve asked, looking outside and realising the previously torrential rain had stopped completely.

“I don’t care," Y/n answered without waiting a beat or even taking a moment to look outside.

All she wanted was right there in that diner with her. Steve looked at her and reached for her hand, grinning like the lovestruck fool he knew he was and would always be for Y/n.

***

March, 1984

They opted for one of the booths that day. Steve said he was pissed off with his basket ball coach and needed to give Y/n a play by play of everything that went wrong. She happily obliged. It was a nice breather from being cooped up at the cabin all day with El.

When they walked in, the server at the counter recognised them and pointed to the day’s special written on a chalkboard displayed on the counter. Y/n took one look at it and realised what day it was.

“Lewinsky of all people, the benchwarmer can’t make a free throw to save his life and coach still put him on.” Steve packed a small handful of fries into his mouth and chewed, before looking up and realising his girlfriend was staring blankly at her food, her eyes glossed over. Slowly, he waved his hand a few inches in front of her face. “Y/n? Are you listening?”

She looked up and sniffled, quickly realising she had been too in her head to pay attention to Steve’s story. She shook her head and frowned apologetically.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve couldn’t even remember what he was annoyed about, not when there was something going wrong with Y/n. He moved his plate to the side and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table. Reaching his arm across the table, Steve took hold of her hand.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” she whispered, wiping her eyes, not wanting to dampen the mood any further. Steve knitted his brows together and shook his head.

“No it’s not.”

She was tearing up. Whatever it was, he knew it was a big deal to her, and so he couldn’t ignore it.

Y/n sighed, realising there was no use in trying to pull a brave face. Steve knew her too well to buy it. She drew in a sharp and shaky inhale before meeting his gaze, her eyes watering again from just the anticipation of saying it aloud.

“Today’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” she explained in a hushed tone. Her lip quivered and her expression grew sheepish as she went to continue. “… And I completely forgot until now.”

The day used to carry so much weight to her. Her emotions would usually begin to deplete at the beginning of month and she would spend the entire day wallowing alone at home. Now it completely snuck up on her and she hated herself for it.

Steve shrunk back, at a loss for words. Only one came to mind.

“Shit.”

“I’ll be ok, I just-“ Y/n cleared her throat and wiped her tears away. She could wallow later but it wasn’t fair to Steve to do it now. “Finish your story.”

His expression was unmoved.

“Your mom... What was she like?”

Steve spoke cautiously, knowing it was the most delicate of matters when it cane to Y/n’s life. He had always been curious, but never wanted to pry. If there was ever a day to ask, he figured it would be today. Deep down, he knew Y/n wanted to talk about her too.

“You don’t have to do this, Steve,” she whispered.

“I know," he took hold of her hand again.

Steve didn't have the best relationship with his mom, but from the few times she brought her up in conversation, he knew Y/n had a good one with hers. A great one. He wanted to know more about it.

“How did she- uhm… never mind,” Steve shook his head and dismissed the thought, scared it was too sensitive of a question.

“It’s ok, Steve,” Y/n assured him.

He wasn't the first person to ask her how her mom died, and unlike almost everyone else who did, he didn't annoy the crap out of her.

She used to dread having the dead mom conversation with people that came into her life, but it didn't feel that way with Steve. Y/n didn't feel like a news story or neighbourhood gossip or the town's sob story.

“Was she sick?” Steve asked hesitantly.

It was hard to make any conclusions about Y/n's mom, given how little he knew about her. There were rumours that spread around town when she passed, but Steve couldn't bring himself to buy into any of it. It didn't feel right. Though he and Y/n were barely friends, they had been classmates for as long as he could remember. He still remembered seeing her the day she came back to school some time after the funeral.

He always wondered what happened, and how Y/n managed to get through it at such a young age.

“She got into a car accident," she explained. "A drunk driver hit her, and she died a few days after.”

Y/n remembered the torrential rain that fell that night. She remembered the phone ringing in the middle of the night and the scream her dad let out after he collapsed on the floor. She remembered her mom's sister coming into town the next day, and how she knew that was a bad sign. Everything that came after was a blur to her.

Steve squeezed her hand three times and offered a small smile.

“What was she like?”

Her eyes began to light up. That was the one question that she loved being asked when it came to talking about her mom.

“She was great,” Y/n started, the corners of her lips perking up as she remembered, not the rain or the phone call or aunt Jenna, but her mom. “… She was the best, actually.”

“I bet she was,” Steve smiled.

Y/n grinned, meeting his gaze. If he only knew.

“She was twice as strict as my dad,” Y/n explained. Steve was surprised, just as she expected. “But anytime I was having a bad day she used to sneak into my room with a tub of ice cream and two spoons.”

Her mom wouldn't even have to ask. If Y/n had a certain expression, or slammed her bedroom door a certain way, or said goodnight with a certain tone, her mom would be at her side with their favourite dessert. She had a sixth sense when it came to her daughters, and it wasn't until she passed, and took with her their ice cream nights, that Y/n realised how much missed it.

“Sounds familiar,” Steve chuckled, remembering El mention something about how Y/n had special ice cream in the freezer.

She grinned. Y/n always loved it when others drew similarities between her and her mom. She took pride in it. To her, the more she took after her mom, the less she took after her dad.

“People said I looked just like her too,” Y/n beamed. “Same hair, same eyes… Same laugh.”

“Yeah?”

Y/n nodded, chuckling beneath her breath. It was the one sound she would probably never forget. As strict as her mom was, Y/n grew up hearing her laughter almost all of the time. Hers and her dad's.

“My dad would tell the most stupid jokes all the time," Y/n explained, a bittersweet feeling settling in her chest. "—and she’d laugh at every single one… even when she was angry with him.”

She would give anything to relive a moment like that again. To hear that sound again in reality and not in memory. To eat ice cream and rest her head on her mom's shoulder, letting go of whatever was burdening her.

“I wish I got to meet her,” Steve mumbled, hoping it didn't sound silly to Y/n. In truth, he had met her a few times in passing, but those didn't count to him. He wished he got to meet her as the mother of the girl he loved.

“Me too,” Y/n smiled weakly. She thought about it often as well.

“Do you think she would’ve liked me?”

Steve pursed his lips together forming a sheepish grin. He thought about that a lot. Though it was merely a hypothetical, it was oddly important to him that she would have.

Y/n gave it a moment's deliberation and smiled.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “She would’ve.”

There was no doubt about it. She would have been skeptical about how much pride he took in his hair and in his car, but she would have seen how much he loves and care for Y/n and that would have been enough for her.

The more Y/n thought about it, the more she realised that, wherever she was, her mom would not be holding it against her that she forgot what today was. If anything, she would have been happy. She would have been happy Y/n wasn't wallowing anymore. That she had someone to lean on now, who didn't let her carry her burdens alone. That her sweet Y/n was so busy making good memories with someone she loved, she forget to remember the bad ones that once debilitated her.

***

December, 1984

Steve stood at the gym entrance and scanned the room. Dustin didn't have to be told twice before racing past him to find his friends. Finally, Steve spotted her standing with El by the bleachers in the same dress she wore to their high school winter dance. She had her arms crossed. That was never a good sign.

“If it isn’t the two prettiest girls in Hawkins,” he sang, approaching the Hopper girls with a nervous smile. Y/n was glaring daggers at him.

“I see Mike,” El chirped, eager to leave Steve to deal with the mess he made.

With El gone, Steve inched closer to Y/n, his arms instinctively reaching for her waist only to be swatted away.

“You’re late, Harrington."

He promised her he would be early, and he knew how much Y/n dreaded having to deal with their old teachers herself. And after all, he was the only reason she agreed to chaperone the middle school dance.

Steve froze, his expression equivalent to that of a kicked puppy.

“Woah. Harrington?” Steve held his hand to his chest. He knew she would be mad at him, but calling him by his last name was a low blow. “C’mon, I’m only a few minutes late.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, pushing him away as he leaned in to steal a quick peck.

“First of all, there’s a no kissing rule."

The teacher in charge, Mrs Bernstein was very clear about that rule. That was, after a long-winded story about renovations they made to the science labs and then a lecture about the problem with today's youth.

“Second of all," Y/n added. "You can’t talk me into signing up to be a chaperone with you just to show up late and leave me to face Mrs Bernstein on my own.”

It will be fun, he told her. We'll be doing it together. Y/n wanted to make him pay for every second she had to plaster on a smile and supervise middle schoolers on her own.

Steve grimaced.

“Bernstein still works here?”

“Yes, and I volunteered you to be on snack table duty with her for the first hour.”

Y/n gestured to the opposite end of the gym where the elderly lady was waiting with likely a million stories with a million details and no end. She smirked, pleased with herself.

“Have fun.”

Steven turned to his girlfriend and pouted. She wasn't really going to make him do that, he thought. Y/n patted his back and pushed him forward, proving him wrong.

Bernstein was just as he remembered her, boring as hell. Steve lasted half an hour before he started looking around the gym, searching for an out.

Luckily, he spotted two kids sneaking out of the gym just as Bernstein was wrapping up her spiel about the price of gas. He never thought of himself as a snitch, but if it meant getting to his girl and getting his kiss, he did what was necessary.

With Bernstein gone, all that was left to do was pay Mike five dollars to watch the snack table, and he was making his was to Y/n. She still had her arms crossed, but Steve had a feeling her stance would change. He stood beside her, close enough so that she could hear him over the music.

“Dustin had a hair emergency and asked me to stop by his house on the way here," he explained. "It took a lot longer than I expected."

Steve was expecting a comb and a bit of mousse would fix it, but when he realised what he was working with, he had no choice but to start from scratch.

“Ok... that’s pretty sweet," Y/n sighed, her lips perking at the thought of it, her arms instinctively falling to her sides. Steve started to smile and pulled a small box from his jacket pocket.

“Then, since I was already running late, I decided make another stop so I could pick up this."

He held the box out for Y/n. With narrowed eyes, she opened it slowly, revealing a small corsage. It cost him twice the normal price and a full five minutes of begging, but the florist was able to pull together a boutonniere for Dustin and a corsage for Y/n in a moment's notice.

“Still mad at me?”

“No,” she grinned, holding her wrist out so he could put the corsage on for her. After tying it on, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Y/n held the side of his face, running his fingers along his cheek until her eyes landed on the bruise still evident around his eye.

She frowned. Even a week after his fist fight with Billy, his face was still slow to clear up. She studied the bruising and scarring closely, her brows crinkled together in concern.

“Does your face still hurt?”

“Only a little,” he assured her, gently pulling her hand away before she got herself worked up again.

“He’s such a piece of shit," Y/n muttered.

"I know," he laughed.

They turned their attention back to the kids they were meant to be chaperoning, but his hand never left hers. She couldn't stop thinking about that fight. She brushed her shoulder against his and offered a playful smile.

“I reckon I could have taken him if you hadn’t stood in my way."

Another kick to the groin, and Billy would have been crawling away. That was what she told herself every time she remembered her boyfriend catching a fist that was alarmingly close to colliding with her face.

“Of course you would have," Steve smiled, squeezing her hand three times and playing along with the hypothetical she had clearly been building up in her mind. But deep down, he knew he was never gonna let her find out.

***

i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.

cardigan series taglist:

@littlepadfootmoony @geeksareunique @agustdeeyaa @babygirlwilly @rqmanoff @midnightsgetawaycar @ilovereadingfanfics @lou-la-lou @dickgraysonspersonalwhore @starkleila @shireentapestry

#stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #x reader #imagine #one shot #x hopper!reader

[mousy-nona]

Two's Company (Three's a Crowd)

Vox cuts into Alastor's radio broadcast, and quickly figures out why that was a Very Bad Idea.

//

Or, Vox finds out about Alastor and Lucifer. Jealousy ensues.

(Set between chapters 4 and 5 of All of God's Angels)

Lucifer had a radio. He dusted it off and turned it on some nights, when they were playing the oldies, or when he wanted to catch up on current events, or…

Or when a certain strawberry pimp was on air. 

(If he was being honest, he hadn’t missed a single episode since the day they’d met.) 

The demon’s voice was like liquid honey, dripping with dark things and speckled with odd ‘20s slang. It quickly became a habit: turn on the radio, pull up a few of his latest blueprints, and get to work. Some of Alastor’s more… creative suggestions even gave him a few ideas for new horror-themed rides for Lu Lu World. 

My muse, he thought, snorting to himself when no one was around.. 

That particular night, he was humming away, listening to Alastor prattle on about why the Pride ring was categorically better than Gluttony ( more interesting victims, for one! ) when there was an audible screech. The signal wavered, replaced by the obnoxious blaring intro of a news show.

He recognized that sound at once. Everyone in Pentagram City did. It was the breaking news soundtrack for 666 News.

But what was it doing here, on Alastor’s radio? 

He leaned in, new rubber duck design completely forgotten, as he and the rest of Hell waited with baited breath. 

“Gooood evening Pentagram City!” A voice – a man’s, with a chipper American accent by the sound of it – filtered through the speaker. Lucifer cursed to himself. He really needed to pay attention to the politics of Hell. He had no idea who this was. B something? The demon continued, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “We interrupt this not-so-important broadcast with breaking news: why are you listening to this washed up has-been when you could be watching 666 News on the V Network? Get with the times, you—”

The radio whined, letting out an audible protest as the signal was hijacked again – and by the sound of it, far more violently this time. 

The momentary crackle of static, then – “Apologies about the momentary interruption, folks!” Alastor’s cheery voice cut in. But underneath that ‘20s charm, Lucifer could hear a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “A mere technical error, nothing to worry about. I promise you, those responsible will be appropriately punished.” 

The last word practically crawled of the penumbra, of shadows, of Bad Things. Lucifer shivered, finding himself half-wishing he was the one Alastor was talking about. He caught himself with a frown. What the Hell was he thinking?

“Now back to our regularly scheduled programming!” 

The next morning, Lucifer came downstairs to find the entire hotel gathered around a shiny red box. 

“What do you think it could be?” Angel Dust asked. 

Husk shrugged, looking, as always, utterly unimpressed by the whole situation. 

Niffty was flitting around it so fast she was nothing but a blur, panting excitedly the entire time. “Don’t smell bugs,” she muttered, almost as if she was disappointed by the fact. 

“Only one way to find out. Let’s open it!” Charlie bounded forward, one hand outstretched. Both he and Vaggie leapt to stop her at the same time, but Vaggie got there first. She grabbed his daughter’s hand and twirled her away from the mysterious-box-potential-bomb-thing, popping a little kiss onto her nose to distract her when she tried to lunge for it again.

Yeeuch . Good for Charlie, but he was never going to get used to that. 

“What’s up, b–” He almost said bitches , but managed to catch himself at the last minute. “ Boys ?”

Better. Much better.

The “boys” glanced at each other, clearly confused. Vaggie let go of Charlie so fast she almost spun her around like a top. 

Charlie recovered quickly and pointed at the thing they were staring at. “Dad! This got delivered to the hotel this morning. Vaggie thinks someone wants to blow us up!” She said, as if she was announcing someone had sent them a birthday cake. 

Vaggie sighed. “Might, Charlie. I said someone might want to blow us up.” 

“Right! That!” 

“No worries!” Lucifer puffed up his chest, feeling a rush of pride. He was helping his daughter! He could feel their bond growing stronger already! “ I’ll open it!”

“Careful, Dad!” Charlie gasped. Vaggie pulled her backwards, shielding her with her own body. Husk surreptitiously stepped in front of Angel Dust. Niffty stayed exactly where she was – right next to the box – but Angel Dust swooped in and lifted her out of harm’s way. Lucifer waited a beat, wondering if Alastor was going to show up and swoop him out of the way. 

No such luck. He sighed, wondering if he’d gone temporarily insane to even hope for such a thing. Alastor would probably push him into the box if he was here. 

Holding his breath, he quickly clawed at the cardboard seams. The box fell open, revealing…

Angel Dust wrinkled his nose. “Is that…an old TV?” 

“It is,” Husk grumbled, recognition flaring in his yellow eyes.

The hazy gray screen was surrounded on all sides by wood paneling. There were two dials on it, one labeled UHF and the other labeled VHF. Attached to the front was a single note, written in huge, spiky letters: Remember the good times? 

He felt Alastor before he saw him. A mass of shadows bubbled in the corner and burst, revealing the tall, graceful demon in his erstwhile pinstripe suit.

Lucifer puffed up. “Convenient of you to come when the danger’s over, huh? Looks like I saved the day this time –” 

Alastor swept past him as if he was air. All his attention was focused on that damned TV. Lucifer’s voice faltered, sputtering like a flame before it finally went out. 

“Alastor, your buddy sent you a gift,” Husk muttered. 

“So it seems,” Alastor said, cold and cruel. He grabbed the note from the screen, his nose wrinkling as he read it. Then his grin turned sharp. 

Faster than anyone could blink, Alastor skewered the TV in half with his staff. The wood protested, groaning as it fell apart, revealing the black glistening gears inside. Acrid smoke started flowing, and Alastor was soon submerged in an eye-watering cloud, his wicked chuckles reverbrating through the entire hotel. 

“Looks like someone is desparate for my personal attention.” 

Lucifer bristled. Someone? Who? Someone other than him? He opened his mouth, but when the smoke cleared, Alastor was gone. 

Husk tutted and walked back to the bar, mumbling about show offs and annoying dandy-ass motherfuckers. Lucifer followed close behind, practically shoving Angel Dust out of the way. 

“Do you know who sent that TV?”

Husk turned around, so slowly it was like he was moving through molasses. “Yeah, of course. Who doesn’t?” 

I don’t, you smug little house cat. Through a great effort of will, Lucifer managed to stop himself from showing Husk exactly what his new line of rubber ducks could do. “Mind enlightening me?” 

“It came from Big Daddy V,” Angel Dust slid into the seat next to him, fluttering his lashes. Lucifer stared at him. “You know, the head honcho?” Still no reaction. “Vox?”

“Is he the guy with the television for a head?” Lucifer asked. 

“Duh,” Angel Dust said at the same time Husk said, “Who else?” 

“I think he was the one who interrupted Alastor’s radio show last night too. What’s his deal with Alastor anyway?” Lucifer was not annoyed. He was not irritated at how easily he’d been cast aside. He was definitely not upset about how Alastor had disappeared after promising to give Vox his personal attention . 

“He’s obsessed with him.” 

And Lucifer was not tempted at all to rip this Vox’s throat out and leave him to die a very slow, very painful death. “Alastor is?” He hissed.

His chest twisted, throbbing with a pain he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He held his hand over his heart, marveling at the way it pounded as hard as if he’d just fought a grueling battle with the angels. 

“No, Vox is. They’ve had a rivalry going for decades now.” Husk looked at him strangely. “You really don’t know about any of this? Aren’t you the king of Hell or something?” 

Decades. They had decades of history together. Vox would always own a piece of Alastor that Lucifer would never get to know. An irrational anger rose deep from his gut. He knew it made no sense, but it was almost unbearable to think that there was someone out there who may have a claim over Alastor that he didn’t.

And maybe he was a demon just like the rest of them, because a selfish rage rattled in his chest: Alastor was his.

Too late, he realized the silence had stretched on a touch too long. Now both Angel Dust and Husk were staring at him. Angel Dust’s knowing smile in particular was quite unsettling. Quickly, he excused himself and ran back up to this room, where he could not think about Alastor in peace and quiet, thank you very much. But as soon as he opened the door, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. 

Meet me at Rosie’s. 

The note was written in Alastor’s beautiful, old-school cursive.

“That tacky little good-for-nothing,” Lucifer grumbled. “He thinks he can order me around?” 

He crumpled up the note in his fist. He would go meet him – but only to teach the cocky asshole a lesson. 

Right. That was the only reason why. 

(He’d always been a bad liar.) 

“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost on the way.” 

Alastor’s wide grin was the first thing that greeted him when he stepped out of the portal. He resisted the urge to smack him in the nose, because he knew how to be the bigger man. Figuratively, of course. 

“Why did you want me to meet you here?” 

“Why do I ever want to meet you anywhere?” 

Lucifer paused, running through some numbers in his head. “But it’s not the first of the month yet.”

Alastor grinned and pressed in close. His bowtie, usually so neat and buttoned up, was askew. His shirt gaped open the tiniest bit, revealing a hint of mouthwatering collarbone and the barest glimpse at the strong chest underneath. Lucifer felt his cheeks heat. “What’s a little extra healing between friends?” Alastor murmured into his ear.

“We aren’t…we aren’t friends,” Lucifer protested, stumbling only once. “Besides, we’re outside. Anyone can see us.”

“Rosie won’t mind,” Alastor smiled. “What’s hers is mine, and so on and so forth.” He crooked one finger into his tie and pulled, loosening it further. “And the Cannibals know to mind their own business.”

The rough brick of Rosie’s storefront was digging into Lucifer’s back. He winced, a surge of annoyance running through him when he realized that Alastor was pushing him around again . Alastor always did whatever he wanted. He would play with him at home, teasing him relentlessly, making his life Hell, but then he’d run off and play rivals with some other bastard the moment Lucifer took his eyes off of him. 

What kind of heartless, two-timing devil would do that?

Suddenly filled with a burning rage he still didn’t quite understand, Lucifer flipped around so he  was the one pressing Alastor against the wall. Strangely, the demon didn’t fight him. He watched through heavy lids as Lucifer pushed forward until their bodies were flush against each other. Lucifer could feel every one of Alastor’s hard muscles through the layers of clothing between them. The air crackled with anticipation as they stared at each other, the seconds dragging on as time slowed. 

Lucifer licked his lips. Alastor’s gaze dipped down to follow the movement of his tongue. His smile turned lazy, slow – honey dripping on a hot day. He reached up, undid the first button of his shirt, and pulled the collar away from his neck so Lucifer had a better view of the graceful curve of his shoulder and the firm sculpture of his chest. He swallowed, hard. 

“You won’t keep a loyal subject waiting, will you, your Highness?” Alastor asked, his radio static like a live wire against Lucifer’s skin.

Lucifer grabbed his lapels and leaned in close, not sure if he was going in for a kiss or to tear Alastor’s head off. 

“What the hell are you two doing?” 

The first thing Lucifer noticed was a man with a TV screen for a head glitching out in the street behind them. The second thing he noticed was Alastor’s smile – huge, toothy, and so very pleased that Lucifer realized, a second too late, that he’d walked into one of Alastor’s traps again . 

Alastor straightened up and re-tied his bow to cover up all his delicious, bare skin. Even though Lucifer knew he’d been played for a fool, he still felt a pang when he saw it disappear. 

“Are you two–” Vox couldn’t finish the sentence. His screen stuttered, turning rainbow, then flipping to a test screen, before finally settling on the Blue Screen of Death. FUCK YOU ALASTOR.EXE was scrawled all over it. 

“Actually –” Lucifer started, but Alastor cut in, slinging his arm casually over his shoulder as if they did that kind of thing every day. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alastor grinned, his red eyes gleaming bright with glee. “Maybe we are. Maybe we’re just very good friends .” 

Vox’s face flashed back on screen, his mouth open so wide it looked almost like a glitch in the matrix. “You – I thought you didn’t…?” 

“Didn’t what, my good man? You must start finishing your sentences. How is anyone supposed to have a decent conversation with you if you don’t? But I suppose that silly moth man you keep around might not mind. He doesn’t seem very bright, does he?” 

“Leave Valentino out of this!” Vox roared. 

“Or what?” Alastor sneered over Lucifer’s shoulder. He was still hanging off of him like he owned him. As much as Lucifer hated it…it wasn’t a terrible feeling. “Or you’ll sing a silly little song about me again? Hack into my radio signal? Is that really all you can do – cause me a few technical problems?” 

Vox wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. His eyes were glued to the two of them, taking in the casual way Alastor was touching Lucifer, at the button Alastor had accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to re-button, and the hand Lucifer still had curled around Alastor’s lapel. 

“But you don’t –” he tried again. “I asked you! You said no!” 

“It looks like I found a better offer,” Alastor said. He looked positively demonic as he delivered the blow, his eyes glittering with euphoric glee as he watched Vox sink down from disbelief into a black cloud of depression. As much as Vox annoyed him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man.

But that didn’t stop him from doing what he did next. 

Lucifer looped his hand around Alastor’s neck and pulled him down so they were face to face. Before Alastor could react, he pressed his mouth to his. 

Alastor’s lips were cold. They were as icy and hard as the man himself, but his taste…he was like spice and smoke, like cinnamon and poison and the woods in the summer. He tasted better than all of Heaven and the Earth, and for the first time Lucifer understood why humans got addicted to their silly little drugs. If it felt anything close to this…

Alastor broke the kiss first, his eyes hooded and unreadable as he pulled back. He licked gold from his teeth, and Lucifer realized with a start that he was bleeding. Alastor brought his fingers to his lips and licked the dripping gold off of them slowly, his eyes never once leaving Lucifer’s. 

It was the single most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He felt dizzy, drunk with desire in a way he’d never once felt with Lilith.

“Assholes!” Vox’s sudden exclamation brought them both back to reality. “Don’t eye-fuck each other while I’m still here!”

Snarling, Lucifer whirled around. “Do you mind? We were in the middle of something here.” 

Vox cringed backwards, his hands flying protectively over his face. For a brief second, he looked terrified . Lucifer looked at him strangely, wondering what his reaction was all about, when he saw red horns out of the corner of his eye. 

He’d transformed? 

He glanced at Alastor, who was staring at him with an expression he’d never seen before. If he had to describe it, he would say Alastor looked…proud. 

Alastor pulled Lucifer to his side, so smug it practically rolled off of him in noxious waves. “You heard the man. Or rather, shall I say the king?” Canned laughter roared through the street. Vox flinched at the not-so-subtle reminder of exactly who he was dealing with. “It’s been fun catching up, but we must be off. Lots to do, lots to see!”

Waving merrily at the glitched-out TV, Alastor pushed open the door to Rosie’s shop and ushered Lucifer inside. The second the door closed, Lucifer whirled around, glaring at a wholly unrepentant Alastor.

“You planned that.”

Alastor grinned. “Of course I did.”

“You used me.”

He raised his brow. “My dear, I am a demon . Surely you can’t be too surprised I dabble in deception?” His expression darkened. “That fool interrupted my show. That kind of behavior must be punished. Besides, I daresay you used me a little bit yourself.” 

Lucifer’s cheeks reddened and his mouth watered at the thought of that kiss. That magical, wonderful, positively wicked kiss. 

“Ah, ah!” Alastor wagged his finger at him, as if he was a naughty child and not a fallen angel powerful enough to blast him halfway back to Earth. “There will be no more of that today. You’ve got your payment.”

Lucifer sighed. For a man who hated physical contact, he sure could be a massive tease. He was even worse than Angel Dust. “What was Vox talking about? What did he ask you?” What did you say no to?

“He asked me to join his team. A waste of breath, if you ask me. As if I’d ever stoop so low.”

“Just his team? As in, business partners?”

“Why? Does it bother you, your Majesty?” Alastor teased.

Lucifer thought about the despair on Vox’s face as he took in the possessive way Alastor had grabbed his shoulders. The betrayal in his voice as he’d stuttered but you don’t–! The hurt as he slumped to the ground, the electronic nodes of his brain scrambling to understand that Alastor might be capable of wanting more – and that he just hadn’t wanted Vox . 

Would Alastor do that to him one day? Would he leave him half-broken on the ground as he pranced off with his new rival of the month? 

Lucifer turned away, unable to keep looking at him. “No. It doesn’t bother me at all.” 

Alastor hummed, sing-song. “I appreciate your help in this rather annoying matter. I must say, it’s not so bad having a partner after all.” 

Lucifer stiffened, hardly daring to breathe. “We’re partners?”

"Who knows?" Alastor shrugged. "I do so dislike labels. But this is the first time the idea hasn't made me want to vomit. And the look on Vox's face when he saw you..." His laugh was dark and more than a little insane. He wiped a few gleeful tears from his eyes. "I could get used to that."

Lucifer chuckled along, the possessive beast within him satisfied. For now. "I'm a better offer, huh?"

When Alastor looked at him, the odd expression on his face took his breath away. He took Lucifer's hand and kissed it, his sharp teeth grazing the thin skin there. "Certainly the tastiest I've had in quite some time."

Lucifer's heart thudded so loud in his ears it was all he could hear.

"You have any other rivals you want to piss off?"

#alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #jealous lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #duckiedeer #radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel

[lowkeychenle]

In Your Dreams [ZCL] (M)

Description: What started as innocent phone sex hotline stuff (if that can ever really be innocent?), you get an offer you just can't refuse...you just have to be a little sleep deprived ;) | Part of @jenoslutie's 1-800-SLASHERS collab project!!

Genre: smut

Content Warnings: what isn't in here no but really, explicit unprotected sex, mentions of phone sex, this sex literally takes place in a dream i mean he's freddy c'mon, KNIFE PLAY!!!, blood play?? I mean not really PLAY but a bitch gets cut and we like it, use of names pretty, slut, (not sure if there's anything else lol), somnophilia this is just as much of a mind fuck as it is a physical fuck

Word Count: 1,625 (I got a little carried away...okay?)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle (pretending to be Freddy Kruger LOL) x Reader

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

(A/N: I'm sooo sorry this is just not my best :'( but long live the Chenle stans and happy (late) Halloween)

Everything started out the way it was meant to. What else happens when your friend introduces you to an (admittedly odd) phone sex service with your favorite slashers? Of course, you follow through with it. Only…you might have followed through with it a little too much.

Obsession took over, and before you knew it, you’ve been calling Freddy every Saturday night for the past two months. His requirements are quite simple: show up to the call after staying up for at least twenty-four hours straight, and be ready for your mind to be just as fucked out as your body.

There’s…something about pleasure when you’re tired that heightens it to a whole new level.

This weekend, you��re doing things a bit differently. As one of his most ‘loyal’ customers (his words, not yours), he offered you an opportunity that isn’t typically part of the list of options.

The most you’ve been able to do prior to this is a video call, which always leaves you craving more. You have no idea who the man behind the metaphorical mask and voice modulator is, but you sure as hell wish you could find out.

So, today, you’re going to some sort of facility. He told you to show up after 48 hours of no sleep, and the employees would hook you up to a machine that would give him access to your dreams, even though he’s far away. Nothing that happens in the dream is supposed to happen in real life, so you saw no harm in it.

One of the guys keeps a keen eye on you, the deep brown of his gaze drinking you in. Something about him feels familiar, but you ignore it. His jaw is strong and firm, and his hair is parted down the middle to expose his forehead.

Exhausted, you find it easy to fall into slumber as soon as you’re hooked up to the machines. When you wake in darkness, you think someone’s just turned the lights off. But the more you move around, you realize how vastly empty the room you’re in is. You’ve successfully been brought into a dream—one that Freddy controls.

Creepy music starts flooding around you, almost engulfing you completely in invisible waves.

One, two, Freddy's coming for you.

You hear footsteps, but you don’t feel afraid. The idea of him doing whatever he wants to you in a dream is as close to you getting it in real life, and you’re dying for him to show you what he’s really made of.

The lyrics continue, and eventually he comes into your view. His face is obscured by shadows, so all you can see is the sharp outline of his face, the prominence of his features, but no real details.

“You’re not scared.” His voice is warbled, but you’re unsure if that’s from a modulator or from the lack of sleep making you dizzy.

“Too tired,” you mutter, stumbling on your feet as you move a few steps back.

When he lifts his hands, you see the blades on them and your throat goes dry. You’ve seen them on video before. He’s given explicit detail on what he’d do to you if he had access. And here you are, dumb enough to give him just that.

When he moves toward you, he’s a blur, and soon enough, his hand cradles the back of your neck. The cold metal rests against your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine. He could shred you to pieces with the slightest movement.

“You should’ve run while you still could.” He clicks his tongue, humming quietly. “You’re mine now. You won’t be waking up, pretty.” Heat spreads between your legs without any real reason. Anyone in their right minds would be terrified of a stranger in front of them, but your exhaustion has you compliant.

While you feel him everywhere, the sensation is numbed by the dreamscape. It’s not enough and you want to be closer.

“Whatever I want to happen here does, you know that, right?” he whispers, dragging the tip of his blade across your pulse.

“Freddy.” It comes out as a sigh, and you roll your hips forward.

The sharp edge presses just a bit harder, enough to create the tiniest nick in your flesh. “Here, you call me Chenle.”

“What are you waiting for, Chenle?” Your eyes are barely able to stay open, but the world around you begins to morph as soon as the words leave your mouth.

When the interior of your house forms around you, your jaw drops. Fear finally begins to set in, and as much as you hate it, it makes your cunt throb with need, too. How does he know all of this about you?

You gasp in surprise when one swift slide of his hand has your clothes falling from your body in shambles. He cuts through them like butter, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless to the man in front of you.

You begin to shake, but his lips are on yours within seconds. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you take it with a quiet moan. Cold air swarms you, and next thing you know, your back is slammed against the kitchen island.

Something cold stings across your hips as he lifts you up onto the faux granite like his own personal ragdoll. The brain fog of being so exhausted has you comprehending things happening to you almost minutes later, but one thing that’s been clear to you from the start is the way you crave him. Your previous phone calls have left you obsessed, pining after a man whose face you still can’t see.

You press your thighs together to try and get friction, but he wrenches them apart. You hiss at the pain of the knives skimming your skin, and when you look down, crimson swells beneath his touch.

“Listen to me, pretty girl, or I’ll do more than cut up your legs.”

He takes a step back and, through your daze, you watch him rid himself of his clothes. Your eyes threaten to flutter shut, but you don’t want to look away from him. Everything sways in your dream, the edges of the world around you blurring as he finds his way back to you.

Without warning, he pushes his hard cock inside you, and with a loud moan, you crumble into his chest. You have little control over the way you move, but God, does this feel real. Everything else in your dream feels muted, but you notice the way he fills you.

He stretches you out more than you’ve ever been, and if you hadn’t been dripping for him, you know it would’ve hurt. When he bottoms out, his breathing shudders, and his hand slides down your body. One of his blades taps against your clit, making you jolt at the cold sensation.

“Look at you,” he says in a condescending tone. “You shouldn’t have fallen asleep, slut. I have the advantage here.”

He throbs buried deep, the rub against your walls sending you even further into delirium. Whatever the hell this is, you’d do it over and over again. You truly are helpless. You’re at his disposal, but you don’t care about any of that as long as he’s reaching all the spots you never even imagined could be found.

Pleasure engulfs you, and between exhaustion and his lips pressed to your neck, you’re floating on a cloud. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together to pull him closer to you.

His lips move like he’s talking to you, but lightheadedness takes over. You can’t hear him. All you can do is feel. The subtle dig of the sharp metal on your thigh, his teeth bruising all over your neck and hips smacking into yours.

You don’t want to wake up.

Finally, his voice breaks through your trance. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.” His free hand slips between you two, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

A weak, broken moan leaves your mouth, filling the area and echoing around the dreamscape. Your body is seven steps ahead of you, meaning you barely recognize how hard your orgasm wracks you until your vision sways further. Knots tighten in your stomach, stretching like a rubber band until the tension snaps.

The blades score up your thigh, as his hips buck until his tip kisses your cervix. Euphoria mixes with pain, and you swear you’re locked in your high for minutes as you convulse below him.

His jaw falls open as he fills you in spurts. The shadows covering his face fail only briefly, showing you the perfection of the man behind the darkness.

It’s the man you saw earlier.

Maybe you imagined it, because before you can reach out and touch him, you’re slammed back into your waking world.

Panting, you sit up and clutch a hand over your chest. You look around hesitantly, as if you’re expecting him to be in the room with you.

Your heart races in your chest. Somehow, you’re wide awake now, as if you’ve made up for all 48 hours you’ve missed in sleep.

Until you look down at your lap.

Your jeans are soaked with red.

You slide out of the seat you're rested in, and cry out in surprise when you realize how shaky your legs are.

What the fuck?

Everything was supposed to be fake. You feel a distant throbbing between your legs, and discomfort follows as you make your way to the bathroom. As soon as you close and lock the door behind you, you unbutton your jeans and pull them down to your knees.

The scratches from the blades on his fingers are fresh on your skin.

#nct dream #chenle #nct imagines #nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #chenle smut #zhong chenle #nct smut