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yeyinde · 1 year

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body electric | everyone x f!reader

It's the burn of hindsight, that fuzzy little thing called moribund that leaks into your marrow as you all take turns showering (they let you go first, unspoken, of course), and converge around the large meeting room where everything—including Simon Riley—was exposed.

Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever… had a gangbang before, and things quickly devolved from there.

(Well. You can scratch that off your bucket list.)

Simon, Price, Gaz, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy x f!Reader

⇾warnings: unfettered filth; gendered reader, gendered terminology, female!reader; oral—m&f receiving; unsafe sex; p-in-v sex, fingering; anal, rimming, anal fingering; this is a 6 man gangbang ummmmmmmm what more can i add?

⇾notes: um. yeah. it is what it is and it is nasty.

thank you so much @moondirti for encouraging me to write this, and @sprout-fics and @guyfieriii for the juicy ideas (and full credit for the makeout sess with Rudy goes to @guyfieriii) 🖤

(@ tumblrstaff, please don't delete my blog for this)

also, thank u so much cod fandom. if this revokes my fandom license, just know that it's an absolute honour and privilege to go out into the way i came in—with nothing but filth.

you only have yourselves to blame. and this person in particular 😭

It starts like this:

Price, a little bruised around the edges, and worn from the helicopter, grumbles about needing a drink. Gaz, a little quieter than usual, a little subdued, nods firmly beside him.

It's a spate—Shepherd, Graves—and the cumulation of it all leaves you feeling a little lour, a little out of it. Betrayal, death. You all reek of gunpowder and ichor.

That may be why there is a palpable sense of relief when Alejandro and Rudy fish out some bottles stashed away in the kitchen. He holds two by the nozzle, hefts them in the air, and says:

Who wants some?

No one, not even Ghost, says no.

Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever…, and things quickly devolved from there.

That was then, before you knew how Price, Soap, Gaz Alejandro, and Rodolfo, liked to kiss.

Price—rough, just like everything else about him; shades of smouldering tobacco leaves in the form of an unrelenting powerplay. He batters you into docility, leaves you feeling vapid and stupid by the time his hands rubs circles on the small of your back, the other holding your chin and leading you—always a leader, always—in whichever direction he wants. He's a thinly-veiled lesson in discipline. When you stray from his command, his fingers—thick, and bruising—are immediately there to reprimand you. He tastes like leather and smells like suede. His beard grazes your face until you feel a little sunburnt, a little dazed. He smells of low-grade motor oil and charred pinyon, and the musk of it makes you feel more intoxicated than the aged tequila on your tongue.

His tongue curls over your teeth and the noises he lets out are rasping guttural growls. The kicking engine of a classic car that was left to idle for too long. An American muscle car, maybe. The whiplash bellow of a Hemi purring against your lips. A mustang, a Chevelle. Something drenched in masculinity and oozing authority.

It's controlled. Blistering. He shifts your body around until you're tucked into the warm press of his chest. His hold is ironclad. No escape.

It's Soap, then, something falling from his lips. My turn, maybe. But nothing is solid in the effervescent grey matter saturating your thoughts. You feel drunk with pink peppercorn and sweetgrass when it envelopes you from behind.

His hands pull you away from Price, murmurs of soft words, things meant for a lover spill from his full pink lips. So pretty, hen; gonna make you feel so good. His eagerness shows he slots his pelvis to yours, and the hard, firm bulge of him nearly has you seeing stars.

Soap lingers for a moment, fingers tracing the wet curve of your raw lips, chafed and irritated by the bristles of Price's beard.

It wouldn't be wrong to call the way he touches the drying amalgam of yours and Price's—captain Price, superior, boss; untouchable—saliva obscene. It's filthy the way he grazes his finger under the curve of your lip, eyes honeycomb and wanting.

"Wanna gimme a kiss, hen?"

When he asks you like that, soft and hushed, the ghost of his breath across your stinging lips, you can't say no.

His mouth is molten on yours. He kisses you like he's starving for it. It's wet, and messy. Spittle drips down your chin when he shoves his tongue in your cavern, chasing your taste. Teeth clash, and your lips are pulled softly into his mouth until they swell, bruised and numbed. He only pulls away when you gasp, begging for air, grinning wickedly in the amber glow.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before Gaz is there, hands firm on your ass, dragging you into him.

Gaz peppers you in small, full kisses. Open mouth, teeth sinking into the plush bed of your bottom lip, suckling it into his mouth. Then he pulls away, leaves you dazed, and leaning forward, chasing the thrill of him. He huffs, hands sliding around the curve of your waist. Want it bad, eh?

A tidal wave. A storm surge. They batter against you until you're drunk off the taste of them. An illicit elixir of sin. A tantalising tease of what's to come.

Alejandro kisses you with unmatched finesse. Velvet soft sensuality that tastes of spiced clove and armoise. It starts slow. Just the press of his lips on yours. They lift into a grin, teeth sealed when you whimper and try to chase the santalum on his tongue. He laughs: a low, throaty chuckle, and wedges the tip between his teeth. A small taste, but not nearly enough to satiate you. You feel a little bit like you're floating in the clouds when his tongue finally fills the gap between your teeth; roiling over every inch of space he can find.

You feel like a beached log—ruined by the gritty sand on the bottom of the seafloor, and spat back out into dry land. Covered in the taste of them all, you find yourself slipping off a steep precipice into a chasm you can't climb out of.

It's Rodolfo, then, who grounds you.

His hand is warm on your chin—a beacon of light in a dark tunnel. His lips are a balm to your irritated, bruised flesh. It's sweet. The taste of sweet Brachetto d'Acqui and hedgerow blossoms. He smells of golden copal and kisses you like he's pressing his lips to the hands of his Father; a baptism in soft skin and reverent touches that make you feel like you've been found. Its featherlight whispers of his lips across your skin: the corners of your mouth, the soft skin between your chin and lower lip.

Hands on your waist, hot and heavy. Soap sinks his face in the space between your shoulder blades with a slow drawl of your name, teeth grazing your flesh. His stubble abrades your flesh until you're trembling in their embrace. Static shocks of pleasure bloom in the pits of your stomach.

Rodolfo's head drops, murmured words spilling in hymnals as he nuzzles your neck. Soft, gentle. He puts you together again just to dissolve you into ashes from psalms.

Gaz leaks grape cigarillos, and nag champa incense when he presses flush to your side.

It's when he asks Alejandro if there's any oil, any lube, does it start to sink into your sun-warmed flesh that this is happening. It's real.

You could blame Gaz— never have I ever had a threesome or a gangbang —but the idea mushroomed inside of your head, sporous and damning, until it was all you could think about. you, of course, weren't immune to the sudden hush that fell over the group drinking near the table when you stammered out your answer:

No, I've never had a threesome or a gangbang before.

It all happened so suddenly. The atmosphere was a rich, dense cloud of feverish energy buzzing around you; a miasma of hedonism in smoke and white musk.

Price, then, behind you. Alejandro's barking laughter (no way, cariño, you're too beautiful to never have been fucked like that before). The way Soap's eyes gleamed in the light. Rudy's quiet shake of his head. Ghost's eyes liquifying: heavy, midnight oil on your skin. The sound of glass cracking when Gaz said:

Well, would you?

Would I…? Silence. Poignant. Stifling.

Would you ever have a gangbang?

It spiralled from there. Gaz's words burrowing into your skin. His hands—are hot and heavy on your body. Soap dropping to his knees as he lifted your leg up on his shoulder, breathing deeply against your clothed cunt.

Want to, hen? Wanna take all a'us?

Alejandro's sharp breath. Might break her, hermano. Don't know about you, but I'm a big man.

Yeah, Price's mouth on yours, breath ghosting over your trembling lips. The scratch of his beard rubbing your skin until it was pink and flushed. Ain't the only one, mate.

Lips searing into yours. Sensual rolls of his tongue from Alejandro, hands roaming across your back. A soft, sweet series of kisses that left you breathless from Rudy. Messy, almost hypoxia-inducing ones from Soap that made your head spin, and drool dripped down your chin, your neck, covering your chest. An intense, blistering assault by Gaz, his hand firm on the nape of your neck.

It felt a little bit like a dream. Feverish and desperate. Tinged in the surrealism of being passed around like a prized trophy kissed after a well-won match.

It feels like a cacoethes and carries the taste of Alejandro's tequila. Bad decisions made under terrible influence.

And now—

Now:

There are hands on your body—many of them, in fact: Price holding the back of your knees up to your chest as he swipes his tongue over your aching cunt, lapping at your clit; Soap's on your nipples, pinching and tugging until you're mewling at the sharp pleasure-pain that ripples down your spine. Rodolfo stroking your face, murmuring in dulcet Spanish about how good you are, how pretty you look with your captain between your thighs. Alejandro's fingers ghosting over your torso, and trailing down to your throbbing clit when Price forces the thick of his tongue inside your quivering hole.

It edges into overstimulation; you're equally aware of every single brush across your trembling flesh, and completely gone at the same time. Dissolved into liquid mush.

And they haven't even really started yet.

Gaz is gone somewhere in search of the petroleum jelly in the office upstairs. Ghost leans against the wall—not willing, you think, to partake but still here, still watching you spread out on the table where he dropped his mask for the first time as everyone touches you.

"Fuck, cariño," Alejandro rasps, his finger pressing against your clit in tandem with Price's tongue fucking into the clutch of you. It's too much—his voice is heavy with sin and the heft of it makes you quake. "Bonita. You're so pretty like this, eh? All flushed pretty carmesí and aching for it."

Rodolfo, Rudy he murmurs low in your ear when you whimper his name, chuckles. "She's stunning, eh, hermano."

"Fuckin' right," Soap breathes, his fingers drifting across your smeared lips. "You want this, aye, bonnie? Want us to fuck you silly?"

All you can do is moan brokenly around his hand, fingers rubbing across your tongue.

"Where's Gaz?" Price grumbles into your cunt, beard grazing your inner thighs. "Wanna fuck this tight pussy already, love. Need to feel you around my cock—"

He punctuates his words with the tips of his blunt fingers, pushing two of them into your dripping hole. The sting makes you keen, makes your knees shake. You want to say too much, too sudden, but you can't speak around the three fingers shoved into your throat.

The look on your face makes Alejandro groan. "I want your mouth, cariño. Can I?"

"Christ, hermano," Soap huffs, amused. Tone draped in sex. It makes your thighs quiver. "Ready to start, then?"

"I am," Price grouses, nose flushed against your clit. "I've been thinkin' about this cunt for a long time, love."

They move in tandem. Seamless weaving with one singular goal of stuffing you full of all of them.

Soap pulls his hand away, rubbing your slick over his flushed cock.

You moan against Alejandro's cock when he presses it to the seal of your quivering mouth. His hand is firm on your head, but his eyes are gentle. He waits for you, holding still until you give him your affirmation to continue. The sight of his flushed, tanned cock makes you whimper. He smells of sin: oud and myrrh; heady and thick. Your head swims with the way it clots in your lungs.

Your mouth aparts, tongue rolling out over the weeping head of his cock. It's salty. Brinny. You moan a little when it slides deeper into your mouth.

"Jesus—," Soap pants, rough and slurred. The noise jars into you.

Hands fall over you again, and you lose track of who is touching you when Price groans into your cunt, and Alejandro pushes your jaw open wider, sliding more of his cock into your mouth.

The air buzzes with something bordering on frenetic. Pent up energy from the success of the mission, the alcohol spuming in your veins. The high of the win burns through everyone.

This—a gangbang —would never have happened if it wasn't somehow the perfect storm, the coalescence of all the right emotions.

It's intense. Surreal.

And then Alejandro pitches his hips forward with a smoked groan, murmurs:

"Fuck, gonna cum, cariño. Are you gonna swallow it for me?"

A hushed silence falls around you. It's one thing to attend, but another to partake, and you wonder if they are realising that this is the point of no return.

It's met with a soft moan.

You want it. Want his cum. Want to taste more of that salty haar tang in your throat, feel it settle in the pit of your belly. Hot and syrupy thick.

He pitches his hips forward, hand sliding up the length of his cock not buried in your throat, stroking himself as you suckle on his head. It's sloppy, and wet, and fuck —

Alejandro is the first to cum. The first to spill his milky release on your tongue. It's salty, briny. Not at all dissimilar to the margaritas he handed you hours ago.

His moan is choked and hoarse, a low bellow in the depths of his belly that rumbles through you in a series of deep uh, uh, uhs.

You barely have time to swallow when Rudy is there. Hands on your cheek, eyes lidded and pleading. Can I, cariño?

Alejandro's cum spills from your tongue when he pulls away, dribbling down your chin, neck. It puddles on your chest where Soap's thumb catches the droplets, smearing them around your hard nipples.

You nod, swallowing down the mouthful of cum, brows furrowed in pleasure with each roll of Price's tongue laving at your cunt; the gentle way Soap kneads your flesh.

Rudy shuffles closer, and the flavour of cardamom spumes around you. His body burns hot, heavy cock twitching in his grip. Your mouth drops, tongue lulling out, and he grunts at the sight, eyes cresting.

"You're beautiful, mi Reina."

Rudy's cock brushes across your tongue, eyes shuddering when you wrap your lips around him, head tipping back in pleasure. "Fuck…"

Your tongue laves over his slit, tasting the salty spill of him. His breath is ragged, heavy. There is no warning—just a strangled choke of your name—and then he's cumming on your tongue, ropes spurting over your cheeks and chin.

You gasp, wet and broken, and absolutely filthy.

"That's it—," Price mumbles against you, blowing a huff of air across your slit. It makes your toes curl—the perfect mix of not enough and too much, and—

Rudy strokes your hair, eyes glazed. The angle is awkward, but his mouth slots over yours, tongue rubbing over the mess they made of you. He kisses you like he's worshipping you. Like you're the best thing he'd ever tasted, and he can't get enough.

There is a blunt pressure against your core. A delicious coil inside of you unspooling.

Price has three fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you, tongue rolling over your clit, when you cum around him, knees shaking as you moan at the tight clutch of your walls stretched taut.

"Fuck," Soap breathes, taking Rudy's place when he pulls away from you, lips red and glossy. He pushes his blunt head against your cheek. Cum spurts out, splattering across your face in thick milky ropes. "That's what you sound like when you cum? Jesus—"

You barely have time to catch your breath when Price lifts his head, beard soaked in your slick. Heat pools in your belly again at the sight. He looks like ruin. Wet and dark, and hungry. You whimper when he rubs the scuff of his damp beard over your spread pussy. Coarse hair grazes your clit, and the spark of pleasure has you seeing double. Makes liquid bliss bloom in your chest.

"Couldn't wait, eh, cap?" Gaz returns with a wink, waving the bottle of jelly in his hands when he moves into your periphery.

"Can it, and get over here."

"Impatient."

Price helps you sit up, mouth stinging, and sticky with cum and saliva. His eyes catch in the dimming light high in the rafts. Drunken desire spools in the shades of sapphire blue. His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth.

"Might have to see you like this more often, love."

"Shooting your shot already, cap?" Gaz drawls, humour lacing in his tone.

"Not my fault you waited too long."

"You're lucky," Alejandro rumbles. Firm hands fall to your shoulders, rubbing the knots in your back until your head falls, forehead pressed to Price's chest with a moan. "Should stay here, cariño. I'll make you happy. Get you nice and fat on Mexican food, and swollen with mis hijos e hijas."

"Sí," Rudy's lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering saccharine words in Spanish. "We'll live on the farm. Drinking wine every day. I'll take you to the coast."

You shudder, belly spuming with heat. Overwhelmed, dizzy. It's a dangerous elixir. A deadly combination. It makes you want, yearn.

"No way," Soap huffs. "She's comin' home with us. Back to the UK where she can sit on my cock whenever she wants—"

"You're all wrong," Gaz scoffs. "Price called dibs the moment—"

"That's enough." His command is rough, dry.

Gaz glances at you, and the humour shifts. Darkens. "Fuck, look what they did to you already."

You feel it, thick and viscous, on your burning skin. The flush deepens. You can only imagine what you look like. Your lashes are clumped together, and heavy. Cheeks irritated from the beard burn and the saline smear of cum over your flesh. Swollen, cock-bruised lips. Messy in voluptuary pearlescent.

"You look good," Soap says, taut, and slightly breathless.

They stare at you like you're a banquet—a feast. Your heart thuds in your chest, cum-filled belly rolling. Its—

Powerful. Sensual.

Price's eyes flutter when he leans over you, hands feverish when they fall on your skin. "Gotta move you, now, love. That alright?"

You swallow and taste the ocean. The sea. "Y—yeah."

He shudders. A frisson flurries across his face. "Good."

His hands are solid on your body as they manoeuvre you until your belly is flushed to the table, panting against the damp fabric beneath you. He presses his cock against your ass, letting you feel the iron-hard, velvety soft heat of him. You push your hips back, cunt throbbing. You want it. Want his cock. Want him to fill you up until you're stuffed and fat, and—

Happy, Alejandro said. Happy.

"Soon, love," his voice is a thunderclap in a bottle. You tremble when the balmy heat of him moves away from you, leaving you spread and exposed.

"Fuck," Gaz murmurs. His hand trails down your spine, fingers slipping between the crease of your ass.

He spoke to you about it already. Five of us. Wanna—he licked his lips, eyes hooded and caramel rich—wanna let me fuck your ass?

In for a penny.

Gaz shushes you when you whimper, mouth ghosting over the soft flesh of your ass. He wastes no time. His fingers dig into your cheeks, spreading them open. You mewl. Your body is electrified: too much, too soon, too raw—too exposed; but Gaz groans deep in his throat.

"Fuck, look at you."

He doesn't give you a moment; doesn't waver even when Soap tells him to move away so they can see. There is no preamble. His tongue laves over your asshole, a filthy grunt spilling from his lips as he tastes your flesh.

"Steamin' Jesus, Gaz," Soap groans. Slick noises can be heard behind you. "Fuckin' Christ—"

It's strange. The sensation is heightened by the awareness that everyone—everyone—is watching Gaz devour your ass like it's the best meal he's had in weeks. You quiver, dropping your head into the table. Price stands by your side, cock jerking each time you moan.

His hand on your head is a comfort. A heavy weight. Your hips rock back into Gaz's tongue, keening when it slips into your hole. It doesn't hurt, but there's an insistent pressure as he stretches you open.

A cold, slick finger joins soon after, and the ache makes you choke.

"S'alright, love," Price murmurs, and your lachrymose eyes blink open, gritty and sticky, and dart to him. His hand tightens around the base of his cock. Your cunt throbs at the sight. "Focus on me, yeah?"

"C—captain—"

The rawness in your voice makes him groan. Makes them groan. You can hear Alejandro swear. Soap grunt. More slick noises reverberate around you, and you flush. Cheeks burning. They're getting themselves off to this. To Gaz fingering your tight asshole open for their cocks. Another hole for them to slip inside.

Fuck, fuck fuck—

"That's it," Price coos, low and smoky, and filled with rough tobacco.

His hand threads through your hair as Soap's roam your body, slipping beneath your chest and the table, punching your nipples, stroking your belly. Rudy, or maybe Alejandro—you can't see, can't tell—tap on your clit as two fingers are pushed back into your throbbing cunt.

You want them. Want it.

"P—please—"

Price groans, his cock spitting out prespend that dribbles down the length of him. "I want you to suck my cock, love. Will you do that for me?"

You nod, core quivering as a rush of heat flutters down to the base of your spine. You still taste Alejandro, Rudy, on your tongue.

You wonder if Price tastes just as good.

Price helps you move, and angles his cock toward you, grunting when your wet, sloppy mouth seals over the head.

He tastes even better. Salty and bitter. Tobacco ash and smoke. You want to drown in it.

Gaz stretches your ass as you swallow your captain's cock, and your head still spins with that notion, not quite able to believe you're on your knees for them, spread open, and being readied for all of them that take.

It cudgels into your stomach: a gnarling frisson that makes throb, makes you push back onto Gaz's fingers, his tongue, and moan around Price's cock.

"That enough, Gaz?" He sounds wrecked when he speaks. Ashes and gasoline; it's saturated in want. The air crackles with impatience.

His tongue slides across your fluttering hole in a long, wet stripe, as if savouring the taste of you before he pulls back.

"Yeah—," it's wet when it slurs out of him. His fingers press against your loose hole, moaning a little when you greedily take the tips inside. "Fuck, she's more than ready, cap."

Price wastes no time. He pulls you off of him, and the others—all communicating in a series of strange commands you can't decipher through the rush in your head—all make room for him.

He turns you around, and lifts you onto the table, legs spread around the thick of him. His cock throbs against your pussy when you wiggle back, trying to get comfortable on the bed of masks—Ghost's masks—and it hits you, now, that you're going to get fucked. That your pussy and your ass have been stretched, prepped, and are ready for them. All of them.

He stares down at you, nostrils flaring, and the dark look in his molten sapphire gaze makes you wonder if he feels it, too. If it's hitting him with just as much of a punch as it is you.

His cock nudges against your hole. He pauses, eyes flickering up from the seal of your cunt around his flushed, engorged head, to confirm, one last time, if you want this. If you're sure.

It's debauched and absolutely filthy, but—your hand reaches out when Soap steps up, cock bobbing with each step, and you grasp his shaft. Alejandro's fingers ghost over your bruised, swollen mouth, and you let him lead your head to his throbbing cock, lips sealing over the leaking head.

Rudy's hands are reverent when he takes your other hand, bringing it to his length.

It's all the confirmation he needs, but still. Price waits. Your heart thunders in your chest. Your captain—always so—

The thought is nipped when you nod around Alejandro, and he pushes inside of your pussy. Stretching your cunt with his girth. You moan, legs falling open wider as he splits you apart.

It's good. It's too much. It's—

He feeds it into you, lips curled up in a snarl as you split around him. He grunts—rasping growls that spool inside of your core until you're white-hot, and whimpering.

"Come on, love," is rucked from his throat. A battering ram against your chest swinging hard, and ferocious until you see stars. "You can take me."

It makes you tremble. Makes the world around you grind together; tectonic plates shifting, crashing. Earthquake tremors along the base of your spine, rattling your bones. It cracks them open, and leaks Nirvana through your bloodstream.

Price's cock wrenches you open. Each inch jarring the soporific slurry of sex and smoke congealing heavy in your veins until you're mewling around Alejandro's cock.

His groans of pleasure as resin thick; smouldering sandalwood. Cracking sap. He works himself inside of you, gruff praises falling from his still-damp lips. You feel good. This pretty cunt was made to get ruined, wasn't it? Take me, love. That's it. They slide over your skin, oud oil and syrup thick, until your flesh prickles with goosebumps.

Alejandro's cock hits the gummy walls of your throat, his grunt curls over you. Clove and amber. You burn. There is a give, and then—

His hips slide against yours, cunt stuffed to the brim with his cock. Tears leak down your cheeks at the feeling of him sitting so heavy inside of you, at the blunt press of Alejandro's cock choking you in shallow thrusts.

"Bloody hell—," he groans, head tipping back as he stares at the seal of your pussy taut around the base. "Look'it you. So full of cock. You look like you were made for this, pretty thing."

"Our little slut, eh?" Alejandro huffs, pushing his hips closer to your face as you lap at him. "If her pussy feels as good as her mouth, hermano, I won't last too long."

"Fuck, can't wait to fuck you next," Soap grunts, his hand wrapping around yours as he guides you along, showing you what he likes. "Cannae fuckin—"

Rudy's hand falls to your swaying chest, rubbing your aching nipples as Price begins to fuck you, filling you up over and over again with his fat cock.

It's good. It's so fucking good. You whine around Alejandro, and feel molten pleasure bloom in your belly as they use you, revere you; eyes fixed on your body as you take them all in.

"I'm gonna cum soon," Price grunts, his hips pistoning into you hard enough to jar the table. The metal legs grind against the cement floor. The room filled with the scent of sex and the lewd noises that spill from the wet squelch of your cunt greedily swallowing down your captain's cock. The suckling sound of Alejandro fucking your throat. "Look at you, look at this pretty fucking cunt taking me—"

Soap's fingers fall to your clit as Price hits the plug of your womb with the blunt head of his cock, sending pleasure ricocheting down your spine until you're arching off the table. Muscles coil, tightening together as he knocks into the soft walls of your pussy, sending you reeling.

"Ah, fuck—," Alejandro grunts. "I'm gonna cum, cariño. You'll swallow it for me, eh? Swallow it all—fuck—"

He cums down your throat for the second time, hands stroking your face as he feeds it to you with muttered words in slurred Spanish too fast for you to pick up.

You can't focus. Can't think—

The taste of cum on your tongue, the blissed noses that spill around you, and the way Price fucks you deep, battering against your fluttering walls have you seeing stars.

You moan, nearly choking on the thick cum that drenches you. Soap leans down, spits on your clit, and rubs the mess in with his fingers. It's feral. It's disgusting—

Your cunt spasms as you're shoved over the precipice, squeezing and throbbing like a heartbeat around the thick plug of Price's cock as he spears it against your womb; a battering ram into your flesh.

"Jesus, captain," Soap sounds awed, voice pitched low and slurred. "Just givin' it to her, aye?"

"Fuckin' hell—"

He cums inside of you with a grunt of your name draped in liquid sin. Cock twitching deep inside of you, pressed taut to your womb. He holds it there and makes you take it. Drowns your cunt in his thick cum.

It's wet between your thighs. Your throat clicks when you swallow, nose burning from the flood of briny cum Alejandro poured down your throat.

Price pulls out slowly, taps the head of his sticky cock against your clit, and you flush at the feeling of him leaking out of you.

There is no respite. Gaz's hands are on your body, head numb and fuzzy, as they speak about the intricacies of fucking you, of filling you up.

"Think she's ready for two?"

"Are you?" Soap's fingers fall to your aching cunt, spreading the thick cum around your clit. "Can you take us both?"

"No. Not yet." It's Ghost who speaks, and your belly rolls at the low husk of his voice.

"Yeah, give her one more."

Soap's fingers slip into your cunt, and curl against your sensitive walls. "Fuck, captain. You filled her up good."

Rudy's thumb presses against the seam of your mouth, eyes pleading when he stares down at you. His thick cock grasped in his hand.

You're little more than a ragdoll. An offering between the gods. Soap parts your thighs, head tapping against your throbbing cunt.

Price leans against a beam close by, eyes burning into you in search of any glimmer of distress. Having him close by calms you. Makes you relax. You settle, mouth popping open for Rudy as Soap pushes himself into your pussy.

"Fuck, your pussy feels incredible—"

He lets out a string of curses in rapid-fire Scots, burying the full length of himself into your cunt.

He fucks you like he's aching for it. A madman. His hips bludgeon into you until you're seeing stars, until you're choking around Rudy's cock. It's too much. Too much—

You want more.

Rudy's hands are gentle on your face, brushing your hair away as he cants his hips. His cock slides over your tongue, and you try to hollow your cheeks, to make it good for him, but the blistering pleasure makes your mouth fall open.

"It's okay, bonita." He murmurs, resting his head on your tongue as he fists the length of himself. "Just like this, okay? Just like this. Let me—," he fucks into his palm, eyes rolling back as he rubs his weeping slit over your tongue.

Gaz's hand grabs your swaying breasts in his hand. "I'm gonna fuck your ass next, yeah? Gonna split your little hole open on my cock. You don't want, don't you? Wanna be fucked in all holes, like a little whore."

Fuck. Fuck—

Rudy pushes his cock into your mouth, groaning as molten cum sputters out, drenching your tongue and cheeks.

"Oh, fuck—," Soap pants, hips slamming into you. His eyes are fixed on your messy face. "You look so fuckin' pretty with cum all over you, so fuckin' good for us, aye?"

His eyes snap shut, brow furrowed in pleasure as he buries the full length of himself inside of your spasming pussy, filling you with another load of cum.

It's good. It's so good. The sensation of hands on your body isn't foreign anymore. Alejandro moves when Rudy finishes, stroking your hair, and leaning down to kiss your forehead. You go to him eagerly, mouth parting as he slips his softened cock into your mouth.

Words are murmured around you, grunts and groans of pleasure so robust and full that you clench, aching at the sound of their bliss.

Fingers on your nipples, your clit, makes you see white. Makes your back arch as liquid pleasure blooms inside your core again.

Soap pulls out, and you barely have time to mourn the loss of him when Gaz slots between your legs, fingers falling to your ass, and slipping inside with a groan.

"Nice and loose, now," he purrs, spreading his fingers inside your tight channel. "Gonna fuck this pretty asshole. Gonna fucking ruin you. Alejandro's gonna fuck your pussy after, eh? Maybe me and Price can fill you up at the same time, huh?"

"Gaz," his name is drenched in smoke, a shuddering rumble that stabs tight into your core when Price speaks. Your cunt throbs at the thought. "If you don't hurry up—"

"Alright, alright, cap."

Rudy's behind you at the head of the table, hands roaming over your skin, smearing cum all over your flesh. He murmurs low, sweet words in Spanish you can't hear over the roaring in your ears when Gaz spreads your legs, cock nudging against your virgin hole. It's comforting, though. His presence is solid. Your hands grip his forearms, whining at the sting, the blunt pressure pushing into you.

Soap groans. You can hear his voice to your left along with slick sounds of him touching his spent cock.

"That's so fuckin' hot. Steamin' fucking Jesus—"

You're relaxed enough that Gaz slips inside without much of a burn. It feels strange: a heavy pressure, a slight sting. You're prepared enough that it's more foreign, and uncomfortable than it is painful. But it's—

Full.

You moan when his hips buck shallowly, pushing more of him into your asshole. It's weird. It's strange. It's—

"How does it feel, love?"

Price's fingers fall on your throbbing clit. Alejandro's—you think, maybe; you can't see through the blurred tears in your eyes—push into your sopping cunt, groaning wetly at the lewd squelch of the cum inside of you.

"It's—"

Belly full. A pressure unlike anything you'd felt before. Snug, and tight, and—

"Good," you whimper, arching your back. Your nipples are tugged. Pussy stuffed with three of Alejandro's fingers. Ass full of Gaz when he finally, finally, bottoms out with a moan. "It's so good—"

He fucks you slow, steady. Savouring the tight clench of you around him.

Price works your clit, murmuring about how good you are. How pretty you look, full of cum and getting your ass stuffed with cock.

"You were made for this, weren't you? Little cockslut."

It punches the air from your lungs when he hisses it into your ear.

Gaz pushes the length of himself inside your ass, moaning about how tight you are. How he can't wait to fill you up. His hands fall, sliding over your ass cheeks until he brushes over the rim of your stretched hole, hips stuttering.

"God," he chokes. "Fuck, you look good."

"Yeah, she does," Soap breathes, hands palming at your body, rough and hot and tacky with his release. They glide up the length of your body, pressing into your swollen mouth. "Open up for me."

His fingers taste of pennies when he pushes them against your tongue, stroking over your flesh. He thrusts them in tandem to the rolls of Gaz's cock splitting you deeply. It's a filthy crescendo of moans, grunts, the sloppy wet sound of your gummy mouth being fucked by three of Soap's fingers, and the lewd, fleshy snap of Gaz's pelvis and thighs slapping against yours.

Rudy strokes your hair, pushing the tangled mess of it out of your eyes, and murmurs about how good you're being. The soft praise prickles over you like the warm glow from an altar candle. The heat makes your eyes burn, stinging with tears, and you take what they give you, and try not to get lost in the rapture of their flesh staining your skin.

Price's finger pushes against your sensitive clit. Rudy's soft voice permeates around like burning incense. The heavy weight, the foreign slide, of Gaz stretching your channel makes you keen low in your throat, muffled by the messy drag of Soap's knuckles on the roof of your mouth.

You cum again, shuddering from the billowing pleasure blanketing you from all sides, and fall into the embrace of Rudy's arms. Price's hands are a plinth on your hips, keeping you up, keeping you grounded, and Gaz works himself to completion, scorched words of bliss spilling from gritted teeth.

Soap leans down, tongue catching the mess spilling from your gaping mouth. Alejandro rubs your fluttering walls. It's intense. Overwhelming. You're surrounded by a dense smog of pleasure and musk: clove cigarettes, bayberry, oakmoss, and the thick tang of a wet, loam and humus forest.

The drawling moan Gaz lets out makes your core ache. He buries himself deep, hips glued to the plush seam of your ass, and he spills deep inside of you.

"Joder, cariño, you look good with your ass stuffed, eh?"

You can't speak around Soap's fingers. The only noise that spills is a sloppy, wet moan.

Gaz presses kisses into your spine, slowly, slowly, pulling out of your ass.

"Yeah, she does." He slurs, rubbing his chin over the small of your back. "Who's next?"

Everything blurs into a fever dream of hands and tongues, and the delicious stretch of your cunt, your ass, as they stuff you full of them. Filthy words are whispered into your temple as they grow bolder with your body.

Price gets you off just by slapping his palm over your clit until you clench around Rudy's cock. Soap licks up your tears, fingers pressed as far down your throat as he can get them, and murmurs how sexy you look full of cum. How he can't get enough of your tight cunt and pretty little hole.

You were made for them, Alejandro whispers, and pulls your hips down until you're seated on his cock. The blunt head of Rudy's cock soon presses to your wet asshole, bottoming out with a deep groan. His hands are reverent as they run across your flesh, choked whimpers falling out about how fucking stunning you look when you're stuffed to the brim.

You sob between them as they share a messy kiss over your shoulder, grunting into each other's mouths as they ruin you.

Gaz and Price drag you away soon after they finish, petting your messy hair away from your sticky, sweaty forehead, and splitting you apart between them. You scream into Price's chest as he holds the fat of your ass cheeks open for Gaz to rut into like a man starved for it. Possessed. He coos in your ear when Soap shoves his cock into your gaping mouth, choking you on the thick of him. So fucking good, love. Meant for this. After we'll run you a bath and you sit on my cock while I clean you up, hmm?

You feel a little stripped down to the marrow, pulverised under their wanting hands; when Price presses into your womb, and cums again. The molten spume inside soothes the throbbing ache of your core. A debauched balm to a raw wound.

It would be a lie to say you hate the way it feels to be so full of them. To have their taste in your tongue, sticking to the back of your throat, pooling in your belly, your pussy, your guts. You're full and sore and you feel like one massive contusion—broken and battered and barely clinging to sentience—when his cock slips free with a wet squelch.

It's a little surreal, but—

Comfortable. It shouldn't be. It should be weird, and awkward, and—

Fuck. You had sex with five men in the span of several hours. Your teammates, your captain, no less. And yet.

Yet:

You feel full in a way you'd never been before. Satiated and stupidly fucking happy.

Price snorts when you lay back on the floor, a blissed-out smile tugging on the corners of your mouth.

"Liked it, did you?"

You don't have the capacity for speech. Words escape you. They can't seep through the salty mess in your throat.

Instead, you moan—low and needy—and feel your belly quiver when Price's eyes flash. Smoke and embers. And when Alejandro groans aloud. When Rudy's hand trembles on your skin. When Soap's hand falls to his spent, softened cock, unable to stop the thrum of desire when you sound like you had the best meal in years. When Gaz shivers, and says please tell me we can play this game more often.

It's good. It's—

Footsteps. A hush. A shadow falls over you.

Then: "decide to join in, after all, Lt?"

Ghost's hands are hot on your sensitive flesh.

He says nothing as he crouches down on the floor where Gaz and Price dragged you, but his eyes are liquid when he stares at the mess of you. Drenched, you're sure, in cum; it leaks down your chin, out of your sensitive, raw pussy, and your aching hole. Doused in their pleasure, and burning from the sting of their ardour.

"Fuck, Lt," Soap murmurs, dazed. He'd spent himself on your face only moments ago, and when your glassy eyes fall to him, you find him staring fixed at the apex of your thighs where Ghost slots himself between. "You're gonna ruin her—"

You don't know what he means until you look back. The air in your lungs catches, eyes widening. He's huge. Fat and throbbing, prespend leaks down the absurd length of himself. It twitches when he catches you staring at him, sticky, numbed mouth dropping open.

"S—sir—"

His hand slides, fists the base of himself. He taps the head of his cock against your quivering, sloppy cunt. "Can you take me, pet?"

Shit. Shit—

You don't think you can, not at all, but—

Slick noises around you. Grunts of pleasure. Murmured words. They want to see you split apart on his cock. Stuffed full. Your belly lurches. Heat simmers inside of you once again.

Your trembling eyes find his, and you lay back against the floor, knees parting. Inviting. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip.

"Fill me up, sir—"

He snarls.

Ghost doesn't wait. Doesn't touch you with softness, or reverence. His hands are branding, white-hot, when they fall to your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest. His eyes are glued to the messy seam of your cunt, spilling viscous cum down your ass until it pools below you in a puddle.

You're wrecked. Ruined. You'd had all of them inside of you—your mouth, your pussy, your ass—except him, and your belly flips, head a muddled slurry of want, want, want as the fat head of his cock slips over the milky mess, catching on your ruined, red hole.

"Thought you got lost, Ghost," Alejandro says, words carrying secrets you can't make sense of.

"Never."

He pushes the mushroomed head into your cunt, rumbling at the give of your body as you part for him, sucking him in deep. Ghost fills you up until your belly bulges with the length of him.

Soap moans at the sight. At the way you take the massive cock burrowing deep inside of you.

They all seem to be enjoying the way he ruins you. Over the heft of his shoulder, the thick bracket of his arms, you see them all staring at the way he wrecks you. Batters your body with wet, sloppy noises spilling out.

He fucks you slow: long, deep plunges into your core, gaze sliding in increments to your face, slack and tacky with lashes clumped together with an amalgamation of spittle and cum, and the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the root. It's intense. Dizzying.

You feel pushed past your breaking point: overarching beyond the mettle until you're a raw nerve exposed to the corrosive chemicals in the air. Split apart and reassembled into something new and vulnerable. You're chafed and aching, and it edges on painful, and blistering like a third-degree burn being rubbed against rough wool. But despite the sting, the graze still feels good when it itches over your inflamed skin. A balm that burns before it soothes.

Ghost—Simon, now, you suppose since he's currently eight inches deep inside of your sore cunt—seems to somehow know. Maybe it's the hoarse crackle in your throat when he hits you deeply, or the exhausted droop of your eyes when he presses his weight against you, filling you up until he sits heavy in your chest, but he takes pity on your poor, battered body bursting with the molasses thick heft of euphoria that congeals inside of your marrow. His thrusts are punctured by the soft way he gazes at you. A physical weight to his stare slams into your chest with each roll of his hips, nudging you back to that steep precipice you'd dropped from so many times you'd lost count.

The dance is familiar.

But the gentle, almost possessive, way he touches you isn't.

"Fuck, Lt. Can see you bulging through her belly."

Soaps words are met with a rasping snarl, a brutal piston of his cock into your gummy, wrung-out walls. A hand falls to your belly, feeling the swell, and the pressure has phosphenes burning your eyelids when they snap shut at the heavy mist of pleasure that falls on you.

You don't think you can cum again. Your head is a slurry of intense pleasure: gummy and stupid on the way they fucked the sense out of you. Synopses misfire. You feel like you're barely cognisant anymore.

It's not good enough, though.

His fingers find your clit, pressing against the tender nub until you're bucking against him, trying to get away from the agonising euphoria pounding through your core.

"I want to feel you cum on my cock, pet."

You can't—

You really can't. But he doesn't relent. He shoves himself into your quivering cunt until you see stars flash across your eyes, and the scent of nirvana permeates in the air.

If you won't go willingly to the vertiginous edge, he'll drag you there instead.

A sharp thrust has your mind whiting out; the overstuffed feeling of being stretched to the brim sits heavy in your core. Your nails press into his shoulders, desperate to hang on to something tangible, real. They dig deeper until the moons flood with blood. It makes him groan—deep, low; rucked coals over open flames—and the noise has you reaching for Orion with your bare hands, mouth dropped low to catch the cosmic dust that permeates in the air between you.

"Fuck—" a sharp whimper has him huffing into your neck, a satisfied noise he can't bite off, can't stifle.

He likes it. Likes spreading you open, and watching you squirm. Likes the flash of pain that flickers across your face when he first kisses your drenched core with the fat head of his cock. Eyes wide, fixed on the scrunch of your brow, the wrinkles in your nose, the deep, punctured gasps that spill from your gaping mouth—he misses nothing, stare branding you.

It's the thick of him when it splits you apart, breaks you in half, that really captures his full attention. Stuffed to the brim, and clawing at him for respite from the way he fits inside of you; he takes it all in. Eyes never wavering. Liquid want flooding the bottom ring of his lower eyelids, a molten pool half hidden behind his lash line. He gazes down at you, fans of ash cresting over.

And then when he bottoms out, when his cock is fully seated inside of your body that struggles to make room to fit him, he lifts his gaze. A perfect polynya. He stares at you, then, watching—almost placidly, impassively—as you grit your teeth from the burn of taking him to the root. A slow roll of his hips to test your mettle; a harsh grind of his cock nestled taut against the plug of your womb. It has you singing.

A test of the water. A battering of the futile clutch you have over your sangfroid. He won't start until it breaks. Until it shatters.

His hands are hot when they grasp the soft skin behind your knees, pointing them down toward your swaying chest as he fucks you open in deep, almost languid cants of his hips until you're grabbing at the ground, and mewling his name. Broken, now, by his cock.

Simon is a storm.

A gale. He ravages you until you're dizzy with the brutal way he takes you—and takes, takes, takes —and begging for mercy.

None comes.

You can't barter with a typhoon. Can't make deals with a hurricane.

It hits. Breaching your shores with enough force to ruin.

"Simon," it is whispered low, constricted. The air in your lungs is liquifying; condensation builds until you're choking.

Another huff. He thrusts harder, head notching into something that has you lurching forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder. You spasm around him until he growls in your ear.

His thighs widen, pitching his hips low as fucks into you, a touch savage. Your leg slips from his hold, the back pressed against the muscles of his beneath you. The coarse hair of his legs tickles your flesh. Goosebumps erupt. You shiver.

The breath you gasp in is wispy, and thin. It isn't enough to quench the ache in your chest, but nor is it enough to truly let you slip into the throes of hypoxia. He brings you to the brink, lets you gaze over the edge of that unknown abyss, but refuses to let you any further. His grip is unyielding. It burrows into you.

Like this, with black moulting over your vision and phosphenes glimmering in the cosmic yonder that stretches out in front of you, you can feel everything. There is a startling clarity that rocks through you. You can feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he slams it into you, prying your walls open as he steals all the air from your lungs.

"Shit—"

He cums with a grunt that sounds like it was dragged through barbed wire. Liquid pleasure blooms when you feel him twitch inside of you, and all you can do is cling to his massive shoulders as he rides you through the throes of bliss battering into your core.

Eyes drink you in: wide in the pale moonlight that spills from the window, cut at the bridge of his nose by the mask, jowls snapping at you. He's bathed entirely in black; drenched in tenebrose. A Stygian being looming over you, taking its wares from the tight clutch of your body, and forcing the air from your lungs until it's filled with the scent of him, and nothing more.

"You look good like this," he murmurs, eyes fever red and cosmic black. "Fuckin' hell, pet. You were made to be fucked, weren't you?"

Your eyes roll back into your head at the gruff sin leaking from behind his mask.

"Yes," you whimper, voice shredded and wrecked. He's not the only one who groans at the sound of you, ruined and aching. "Fuck, I love your cocks—"

It feels like the end. Like you'd been spat out on the wrong side of a tornado, and thrust into a battle you weren't, entirely, prepared for.

But you won. There is victory in the ache that thunders through your joints. A hard-fought war that left you a victor in the middle of a burning no man's land.

You can hear them around you. Price stroking your hair, and whispering about how good you were. Gaz and Soap huffing with exhausted laughter that sounds a touch delirious, as if they still couldn't quite wrap their heads around the act they were buried balls deep inside of you mere moments ago.

Alejandro and Rudy mutter to each other in blistered Spanish. You hear the clink of bottles as they toast each other over a victory, and a fucking gangbang.

They take turns touching you. Caring for you. Rudy makes you drink water, eyes melted chocolate—glossy and sleek with the remnants of pleasure. Aqui. He says, pressing the cool bottle to your sweat-slicked forehead. Aquas. Drink up, mi corazón.

Alejandro supports your shoulders when you struggle to sit up and take a sip. Gaz has a towel pressed to your cheeks, cleaning up the flaking mess of dried cum and sweat. Soap's hands clench yours tight when the bottle shakes in your grasp. Price is there to hold it steady.

Ghost hasn't taken his eyes off of you once since this started. You meet his stare, gloaming light shading everything in gold. He tips his chin. A promise in the obsidian cut of his eyes.

Thought you got lost, Ghost—

Gaz huffs. Gems shatter. Crushed into shards that sit in the palm of your hand, waiting to be reassembled.

(Someday, you think.)

"Best game of never have I ever, ever."

"So….," Soap slurs, cheeks pink and eyes swimming with incipient desire. "Round two?"

8K notes · View notes

ghstzzn · 22 days

Text

summer, night | choi beomgyu

pairing: choi beomgyu x f!reader wc: 1.9k

summary: when your date ends up being crashed by a thunderstorm, you have no choice but to camp out in your boyfriends car. luckily, he knows just what to do to pass time.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, very soft - not so descriptive smut, fingering, pet names (baby, pretty) idk thats it

note: my last re-upload i think?? this is from my deleted account yunho-mp3, so if it seems familiar that's whyyyyhfiawghkrebk. i think ill die if i write another summary

“beomgyu,” you whine, ”i seriously can't do this!”

beomgyu comes to a slow stop on his skateboard, kicking the board up and holding it with one hand. he turns around and faces you, seeing that you were still about fifteen feet behind him, he grins widely.

“baby, it's not as hard as you're making it out to be.”

“it is!” you reply, falling to a crouch dramatically. “it’s not fair, you are just a pro. i can’t even balance on the stupid thing without you holding me.”

beomgyu makes his way towards you, the grin on his face never falling. “do you want me to hold you then?”

you look up at him and scoff.

“stand up, pretty.” he takes you hand in his and balances you back onto the board. “you’re doing fine, you just keep freaking yourself out and it messes you up.”

he lets go of your hands, leaving you to balance by yourself. beomgyu crouches at your feet, softly moving your feet as you grab onto his shoulders for support. when he stands up again, you feel comfortable in your stance.

“does that feel better?” he asks you. you nod your head in reply and he turns to step back onto his board to demonstrate. “when you want to move, keep this foot planted on the board - make sure to keep your weight on it too.”

you slowly copy his movements, flailing your arms in the process in fear that you’ll fall if you don't.

“don’t do that either,” beomgyu catches your arm, setting it down by your side, “you’ll lose balance quicker and lose focus of the weight on your board. now watch, baby.”

beomgyu slowly gains speed on his skateboard, making sure to stay as slow as possible while demonstrating his movements clearly for you. “your turn. slowly.”

he sits there as he waits for you to start moving, but you remain frozen, staring at the cement in front of you. you were beyond thankful it was later and beomgyu had brought you to a smaller, more quieter skatepark.

“can you just-” you pause, motioning your arms towards yourself. “please?”

beomgyu lets out a faint sigh as he makes his way towards you once more. you smile to yourself when he places his hands on your waist, “ready?”

“yes!”

beomgyu holds you upright as you start to press down onto the ground to move. you start slowly so you can gain balance and momentum (and so your boyfriend can keep right next to you) but after a minute, beomgyu has let go of you, unnoticed, and soon you were gliding smoothly around the park.

“oh my god, babe!” you shout. beomgyu watches, smiling wide at the way you weren’t freaking out. “i’m doing it!”

“see! i knew you could do it.” he shouts back. “slow down a little, baby, i want to ride next to you.”

slowly but surely, even after a few accidents, you and beomgyu were side by side skating - holding hands at some points and laughing with each other when one of you (mostly you) would trip up and fall off the board.

half an hour later, you and your boyfriend were sitting side by side along one of the ramps in the park, dangling your legs against the drop. the park had emptied out not long ago and you both became tired after skating for a few hours straight.

beomgyu had many hobbies, from music to photography, and one of them was skating. it wasn’t something he did often but he had mentioned wanting to teach you on your first date together. now, fast forward almost 5 months later, he finally got to.

“i can’t wait for you to get really good at this so we can skate in my favorite spots together,” he suddenly says, his breath showing in the cold air. “and so you can do sick tricks and i can totally film them then post them to show off how i totally got you to that point.”

“oh, you’re so romantic, beomgyu.” you know your shoulders against his.

he lets chuckles quietly, muttering how he’s just that good of a teacher.

“but you’re right, it gets easier when i stop thinking about how i'm constantly going to fall.”

you fall deep into conversation, resting your head on his shoulders as you watch him fiddle with the digital camera in his hands. beomgyu brought it to record small parts of the date and take pictures of you both. it’s only been five months since he had asked you to officially be his girlfriend, but you were sure he would be the one you were to spend the rest of your days with.

you flinch when you feel small droplets of water hit your hand, looking up, you can see the sky softly light up from lightning.

“was it supposed to storm tonight?” you ask beomgyu.

he digs in his back pocket for his phone, pulling up the weather app when he retrieves it.

“i could've sworn it was going to be clear skies tonight,” beomgyu replies, flashing his screen towards you, “look. It’s supposed to storm for the next few hours.”

you sit up and stretch your shoulders, rolling your head around to stretch your neck, “well, let’s get back before it starts here. movie at mine?”

“sure. i parked kind of far so we should go like… right now.” a loud thunderclap strikes when he finishes his sentence, making you and beomgyu both jump at the sound.

as you both make your way to beomgyu’s car, the wind picks up and rain falls harder, urging you to speed walk. not even seconds pass before puddles are forming and the rain is coming down harshly. you and beomgyu are practically running and screaming, spitting out profanities when you reach his car and it’s not immediately unlocking when he clicks his fob.

“it’s freezing!” you squeal out, reaching for the knobs inside to turn the heat on. you scream and hide your face in your hands when cold air blows out instead of hot, uncovering your face when the vents start warming up.

“god, it’s fucking pouring.” beomgyu states.

“we probably shouldn’t drive right now.” you say, watching large puddles form in the parking lot. you turn in your seat to face beomgyu, who was already staring at you. “what?”

“you look really pretty tonight.”

you mess with the sleeve of your sweater, blushing at his sudden words. beomgyu taps at his phone, eventually finding a calming playlist to play, setting his phone down on the center console. you continue to observe beomgyu, your gaze catching onto his strong facial features. his long, fluffy hair that was slightly damp from running in the rain - it was your favorite physical attribute of his, you could lay for hours treading your fingers through his hair, the best part was that he’d always let you.

“you too.” beomgyu shoots you a confused glance.

“you also look really pretty tonight.” you whisper.

“i tried. took me all day to get my hair like this and took me three days to pick these.” he replies, motioning towards his ripped jeans.

you giggle and swat beomgyu’s shoulder, “i should refrain from complimenting you.”

“wait baby, noo, compliment me more!” you shake your head no at his pleas, calling him egotistical. beomgyu leans closer to you, resting his elbows on the console in between you both. “tell me i’m pretty again.”

you place your hands on both of his cheeks, squeezing them softly. “you’re soo pretty, my love. the prettiest ever!”

he laughs loudly at your praises, “outsold. ate. face card never declining.. well, sometimes.”

“hey!”

you giggle at his response.

“what do you mean sometimes?” beomgyu whines. “mean girl.”

you close the gap in between the two of you, gently laying a kiss on his soft lips. when you pull away, beomgyu goes in for more. “how should we pass time?” he asks in between kisses.

“i feel like you already have something in mind.”

“we don’t have to, baby. we are in a parking lot so i understand.” he mutters against your lips.

“only if you don’t want to.”

beomgyu shakes his head, “get back there, cutie.”

you smile, climbing over the center console and yelping when beomgyu suddenly pinches your thigh with his nails. he follows you to the back seat, immediately landing his lips on yours before he even situates himself. you comb your fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. beomgyu wastes no time sliding his hands up and under your flowy miniskirt, grabbing your hips from underneath the material and pulling you under him.

you let out a quiet moan when beomgyu suddenly grinds into you, the material of his jeans creating more friction. beomgyu trails wet kisses down your neck, pulling the collar of your sweater down to reach your collarbones, sucking at your skin every so often.

“was this your plan?” you breathe out, your boyfriend looking up and smirking at you.

“do you mean the rain?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“the sex in the c-” your sentence coming to a stop when beomgyu suddenly lays the pads of his fingers under your panties, circling your clit.

“sorry? i didn’t quite get that, baby.” you roll your eyes and bring him back to your lips, passion burning through more than before as he continues to work you with his fingers.

despite not even being together for half a year, beomgyu knew how to work your body perfectly - even with just his hands he can have you falling apart. it’s no wonder why you found yourself falling head over heels for him so fast. the knot in your stomach grew tighter as beomgyu continued his pace, occasionally slipping his fingers in your warmth, stretching and curling them inside of you.

“mh- beomgyu, almost.” you moan against his lips.

“go ahead, pretty.” you arch into him as your orgasm hits you, whining into beomgyu’s neck as he rides you through it.

“i don’t have a condom, baby. do you?” he asks.

you shake your head rapidly, whimpering and grabbing at his jeans, “don’t care, just need you please, gyu.”

soon enough, beomgyu is thrusting inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you take his length. one hand lays under your sweater as the other is against the window to steady himself.

“so good, baby, you’re so good,” he groans, “so pretty and perfect for me.”

it’s not before long when you’re reaching your second high as beomgyu reaches his, falling into your neck as he cums inside of you, groaning and slowing his thrusts to a stop. you try to catch your breath as you run your fingers through his hair, tugging softly as a way to let him know not fall asleep despite the compromising position. he sits up, leaving a few more soft kisses on you.

“you look beautiful like this.” he said, rubbing your side softly. you chuckle and mutter a soft thank you, wincing when he suddenly pulls out to clean both you and himself up.

the rain hadn’t stopped, but it had gotten way lighter. you laid against beomgyu, comparing his hand size to yours as you both watched the rain continue to hit the windshield.

“gyu?” you break the comforting silence.

“yeah?”

“thank you for choosing me.”

your eyes meet each other, and you can almost see the genuine love he has for you within his. the way his gaze meets yours is nothing but soft and full of love and adoration for you.

“i should really be thanking you, my pretty girl.” beomgyu replies, voice barely above a whisper as he lays a kiss against your head. “i love you. let’s go watch that movie at your place, yeah?”

#my home-tubatu 💭#my home-beomgyu ♡#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu smut #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x female reader #txt smut #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt x fem reader

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oceansprompts · 10 months

Text

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

#rp sentence meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #sentence starters #text message prompts

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jupitercomet · 5 months

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Leave a Mark

summary - Jake broke your heart when he left you behind. All that remained of him were the memories of when you were in love—and the phone number he never picks up. Now he's back, ready to claim his title. And you think that that's all he wants, that he's completely forgotten about everything you were together, until he tries to fight for you too. But, this time, will you finally be worth more to him than the glory?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, no use of y/n, brief mention of blood, brief use of painkillers, mentions of physical assault, mentions of injury, Jake is 6′5″ because I said so, brief mentions of stalking, mentions of a knife, mentions of drugs and drug use, mentions of steroids, brief talk of parental death

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.3k

one new voicemail masterlist

There’s a moment—the briefest of seconds—that you wake up and forget the events of the day before. A moment where Harley’s soft fur under your fingers hasn’t entirely set in and the smell on Jake’s sheets—or the fact they’re Jake’s at all—still feels like it’s just part of your dreams. For a moment, you wake up feeling more rested than you have in weeks. And then you remember.

“Hey, hey,” Jake pushes through the door, quickly setting down the tray of breakfast he’s holding and rushing over to you, a slight look of panic overtaking his face. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

His hands cup your face and, though you find solace in them, you have to push them away quickly. “Don’t— Please— I need you to not touch me right now.” You scoot away from him, narrowly missing the look of hurt that flashes through his eyes as Harley comes to comfort you with a small whine.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry,” Jake swallows, sitting at the end of the bed to give you some space.

It’s silent for a moment as you stroke Harley’s head, quieting the dog with gentle pets as you stare at the wall in thought. Your head hurts—your injuries still tender—but that’s not what you can focus on right now. You’re trying to stay calm and collected, Dr. Elsher is always reminding you to not jump to conclusions.

“How many?” You ask suddenly.

“What?”

You turn to look at Jake. “How many of my voicemails did you listen to?”

Jake looks down at his fingers. It’s silent for several beats. “All of them.”

Though you were positive hearing those words would send you into a panic, you aren’t nearly as frightened as you thought you’d be. You chalk it up to the vast amount of feelings you’ve gone through in the past 24 hours. Compared to being assaulted by two large men in an alley, learning that your ex boyfriend knows that you’re still very much in love with him doesn’t seem that bad.

“Why?”

Jake furrows his brows slowly. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

“You clearly had no intention of calling me back.” Under your gaze, Jake shifts uncomfortably. “So why did you listen to them?”

Jake still can’t meet your eye, scratching the back of his neck. “I, um, I don’t—”

“Was it an ego boost?” You’re not sure if it should scare you that you sound so numb, so indifferent. “To know that I’m still in love with you while you were off doing whatever you wanted?”

“I wasn’t— I wasn’t doing whatever I wanted…” His words are feeble at best, but almost like you’re speaking into a voicemail, you continue to treat Jake the same way you have for the past year. By telling him everything.

“I didn’t think you were listening to them. I thought I was deleting them before you could— I guess that sounds stupid when I say it out loud. But I told you a lot of things, Jake, a lot of things that deserved a response. You knew I needed you and you did nothing. So if you don’t care about me, why did you listen to them?”

“I do care about you,” Jake’s eyes snap up to you suddenly, his jaw set. “Don’t say that I don’t care about you, I do.”

You purse your lips slowly. “But it doesn’t feel that way to me, Jake. You left me, and said our relationship wasn’t serious, and let me cry over you and beg you to come back without ever saying anything. Where in all of that am I supposed to see that you care about me?”

Jake winces at your words and Harley gets his front paws comfortable in your lap. “I— How can I fix that? What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

Whatever he’s about to say is probably going to hurt you, you know that. But you also know that you can’t keep doing this with him anymore. You need closure. You need Jake to tell you that you never mattered to him, not the way you want to, and that he can’t keep being the person you turn to for everything. “Tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” Jake nods slowly. “I can do that.”

Your fingers tense slightly in Harley’s fur as Jake stares at you. In a weird way, you feel almost proud. If this conversation had happened even a couple months ago, you would have run away. You probably wouldn’t have said anything at all. But now it’s different, now you’re brave enough to be honest and you know you deserve an explanation. It settles over you almost like a blanket. Jake is going to break your heart, and it’s going to hurt for a while, but then you’ll be okay.

“I’m still in love with you.”

The hand petting Harley falters and you suck in a breath. For a second, you think you imagined the words, that you were desperate enough to put them in his mouth. But Jake keeps talking.

“And it’s fucked that it took this much for me to tell you, I know. But… it sucked having to watch you go to that stupid, fucking diner you hate and feel like I was just sitting there. If I went to Texas, I could do something, you know? I wouldn’t just be some deadbeat,” Jake swallows, keeping his eyes trained on Harley who is starting to fall asleep in your lap. “I always— I don’t know. I always kind of felt like you were with me because you’d just gotten used to it. When we broke up, I just wanted you to argue with me. I should have just told you, I know, but I was—” He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “I was scared that maybe you didn’t think we were serious enough to figure Texas out together. And then you agreed. I said our relationship wasn't serious because I wanted you to tell me I was wrong. But you didn’t, so I left…”

Harley lets out a light breath in your lap and it alerts you to the fact that you’re holding your own.

“Then you started leaving me voicemails and I couldn’t— I thought, if I ever called you back, then I’d be forced to find out that I fucked everything up so badly that I couldn’t fix it.” Finally Jake lifts his gaze to you, his eyes pleading and soft. “So… I listened to your voicemails because I’m in love with you.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not— That’s not fair, Jake.”

“Angel, please, I—”

“I would have gone to Texas with you, if you asked me. I would have gone.” The words spill out of you before you fully think them through. Because you need Jake to know how wrong he had been. Part of it was your fault, you know that. You needed him so much that you could never truly be honest around him. You were scared he’d know how much he mattered to you and use it against you. Now you want him to know.

“You are the first person I’ve ever loved— The only person. And that matters to me, a lot. But I’ve grown. I— I’m getting better at being honest, and having healthy expectations for people. I can finally give away shoes that make my feet bleed.” You feel silly tearing up, but you sniff it back and dab at your eyes. “I’ve grown. All I need is to know that you have too.”

To your surprise, Jake smiles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just—” He cuts himself off when he notices you wince, a dull throb lighting up your temple. He gets up, grabbing the tray of breakfast from the nightstand. “Here. You should eat first, and take some medicine, we can talk after.”

Harley’s still in your lap and Jake looks like he’s trying to figure out what to do with the tray because of it. Obviously, you know what the simplest solution would be, but Jake seems hesitant and you realize he’s trying to respect your boundaries. Wordlessly, you pat the spot next to you. Jake sits down, quickly setting the tray on his lap.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” It slips out before you can stop it as you look down at the omelet and toast sitting on a plate.

Jake chuckles, scratching at the back of his head. “I don’t really. But I picked up a few things.”

He cuts up the omelet for you before handing you the plate as Harley is now out cold on your lap. You sit in silence as you eat, occasionally Jake would swap out your plate for a sip of orange juice or the tylenol he brought for your head. You offer him some of your omelet which he accepts with a small smile and it occurs to you then that, before, you and Jake had never really been the couple to sit and have breakfast together. There was always a morning shift or trip to the gym that got into the way. You wonder if, had you both had breakfast together, things would have gone differently.

“Do you have work today?”

You nod, swallowing. “In the afternoon. I get off at 5:00.”

Honestly, after everything that happened yesterday, you just want to call in sick, but you know that Tracy’s already called out and so it’s not really an option anymore. Jake clears his throat next to you.

“I’m still gonna take you… if that’s okay?” He takes your plate from you and trades it for the glass of orange juice.

“Will you pick me up too?”

“Of course I will, angel.” Like he doesn’t even have to think about it, Jake wipes a crumb of toast from the corner of your mouth. “That was already nonnegotiable, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” You aren’t sure how to feel about Jake—and the multiple confessions he made in the past 24 hours—but he’s one of the few people you feel safe with, one of the few people you have. And, as much as a part of you wants to be away from him to just think, a much larger part of you is still quite shaken. You just want to feel safe again.

“Okay,” Jake repeats, moving the tray back to the nightstand before gently moving Harley off your lap. Harley grumbles in protest, but Jake just laughs at him, holding a hand out for you with a smile. “Come on, Nurse Jake needs to make sure everything’s healing okay.”

Despite everything, you laugh.

The bell to Knockouts rings to alert everyone that someone has entered the building, though there’s really no reason for it, two men well over 6 feet are hard to miss. Jake leads Bradley to where he knows your section is, sitting down at one of the booths wordlessly as the other man glances around.

“We’re doing this here?”

“Yes,” Jake grits, part of him is still mad that Bradley had dodged him when he tried to punch him in the face. Adler kicked them both out of the gym, giving Bradley an unreadable look as he did so, and told them to figure their shit out before they came back.

Bradley sits down. Jake honestly can’t remember the last time he talked to Bradley. He’s seen him around Mav’s since he’s been back, but the brunet has always been a man of little words anyway, so Jake hardly counts it. They were somewhat closer back when they were both rookies. It’s honestly nostalgic to think about, given both their success now. But Jake doesn’t care about that right now. Right now, he just wants to punch Bradley in the face.

“Hi, can I get you two drinks—” Your eyes widen in surprise when you realize it’s Jake at your table, your menus almost slipping from your grip.

“Yeah, actually.” Looking up at you, Jake can’t help but grin, his anger at the man across from him all but forgotten. “Do y’all have mango smoothies, angel?”

Jake hears Bradley let out a small scoff.

The trace of a smile is playing on your lips as you contemplate your next words slightly unsurely. “We do… And, um, we also have milkshakes.”

“Oh, I can’t stand milkshakes, sweetheart.” Jake lights up at your words, though he tries to keep up the appearance that he’s anything but delighted. “They’re just Big Milk’s way to covertly infiltrate the life of the average consumer,” he wrinkles his nose in mock disgust. The expression drops quickly when he hears you trying to stifle a giggle.

Bradley abruptly ruins the moment by grunting out that he’ll take a water, but there’s still a small smile on your face as you jot down their drink orders. “I’ll have those right out for you then.”

Jake’s met with Bradley’s glare when his gaze stops following you to the kitchen and the brunet rolls his eyes. “Can you not flirt with our waitress? Or is it too difficult to control yourself around any woman that moves?”

“Wait,” Jake furrows his brows. “You don’t know her?”

“No, she’s just been my waitress a couple times.”

Jake pauses as he looks at Bradley in thought. “Did you come here yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Bradley answers.

“And she was your waitress, right?— Wait, did you eat alone?”

“No,” Bradley looks at him suspiciously. When Jake raises his brows expectantly, Bradley reluctantly continues. “I was with Adler’s daughter.”

Jake’s eyebrows jump to his forehead. “Why were you with Adler’s daughter?”

“Why are you asking?” Bradley’s eyes narrow. “You still haven’t told me what the fuck this is about, Hangman.”

“Right, fine. My girl got attacked last night and the only thing they wanted was to leave a message for you. I wanna know what the fuck you just dragged her into.”

Bradley glances at the kitchen door, brows furrowed as if trying to remember you as anything more than a waitress. “What did they say?”

“They just said to leave it alone if you know what’s good for you,” Jake recites, keeping his voice low if only to control his anger. “But they called you ‘Rooster’ and she didn’t recognize it. She doesn’t even seem to know you anyway, so why would they think she does, Rooster?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bradley sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jake scoffs, rage bubbling in his stomach, and now he really wishes he punched Bradley in the face. “Is the fact that you almost got my girl murdered an inconvenience for you, Bradshaw?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “No, so you can cool it with the whole guard dog shit.” He glances around the diner, before dropping his voice. “Look, you wanna know what’s going on? I’ll tell you, but it’s some shady fucking shit, Hangman—”

“Sorry about that,” you rush back over to the table, looking quite frazzled as you set down a mango smoothie and a glass of water. “Can I, um, can I get you anything else?”

“We’re fine,” Bradley answers.

You nod, looking somewhat relieved, but Jake’s catching your hand before you can walk away. “What happened to your finger?”

He’s holding the digit tenderly, inspecting the slice in your skin with worried eyes. You swallow shakily, looking at him like a deer in the headlights as you catch your breath. “I— I was washing out the blender and someone put a knife in the sink. I’m fine though—”

“You have a band-aid?” Jake asks, his gaze still trained on your injured finger.

You pull one out of your apron pocket and Jake takes it from you, only dropping your finger to open the wrapping. You watch silently as his large fingers delicately wrap the latex around your wound. He lets his thumb smooth out the padded square of your band-aid before he looks up at you.

“There,” he smiles softly.

You swallow. “Thank you.”

You walk away from the table after your gaze lingers for just a second and Jake watches you leave. Bradley looks at him flatly.

“I wish you would have just punched me in the face.”

“That can still be arranged, dipshit,” Jake growls, his gentle demeanor dropping. “Now start talking.”

And Bradley does. He explains how a poorly timed photograph resulted in Razor thinking that Bradley was in a relationship with Coach Adler’s daughter. Razor, Jake remembers—unlike most of the other boxers he’s come home to—he and Bradley had started their rivalry fairly quickly in their careers and Jake had never liked him all that much either. Razor then started stalking Adler’s daughter, causing her to move in with Bradley for protection. The young woman is more than friendly, having, on numerous occasions, started very affable conversations with you. Bradley just happened to be there for all of them.

Jake let out an incredulous laugh. “Jesus Christ, Rooster! Do you even talk to women?”

“Fuck off,” Bradley grunts. “You wanna know what’s going on or what?”

Jake holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’ve been looking for Razor, but not even Natasha has seen him. She told me he’s been on drugs, which I thought was bullshit.” Jake nods in agreement. Boxers in both Mav’s gym and Abnesti’s—where Razor fights—get drug tested every two weeks. There’s no way Razor could be on drugs and still fighting. “But she sent me to this address he sent her once… You ever heard of gephorce?”

“Gephorce?”

Bradley nods. “I picked it up from this random, sketchy ass dry cleaners. Here,” he pulls his phone out to show Jake a picture.

It’s of two glass bottles, no taller than a nail polish, both filled with clear liquid, as well as a pack of needles. Jake zooms in on the picture with furrowed brows. “Dude, those are steroids.”

“What?”

“I knew a few guys in Texas who used them,” Jake explains, handing Bradley back his phone. “Those are fucking steroids.”

“What kind of steroids can pass a drug test undetected?”

Jake shrugs. “Hell if I know. That seems like the sketchy shit Mav’s into.”

“I’ve been trying to drop them off at the gym, but I haven’t been able to because I don’t want to leave—” Bradley almost seems to falter, which is unusual for Bradley, but he clears his throat. “I just haven’t.” He pauses, eyes snapping to Jake suddenly. “But you could.”

“Absolutely not.” Jake shakes his head. “There’s no way I’m getting involved in this shit,” he says firmly.

Bradley purses his lips. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to drop something off at Mav’s for me.”

“Do you fucking hear yourself? With your track record, in the amount of time we’ve been talking, these people must think we’re married with a baby on the way!”

Jake takes a deep breath, letting his eyes land on your profile, taking in your soft smile and kind eyes. He knew he loved you almost the second he stepped foot in Texas and when he listened to your voicemails that should have been his chance. But he still wasn’t the person he wanted to be yet and what was he even supposed to do? Call you and admit that he had been scared?

But then something happened to you, something happened because he hadn’t been there. He should have been, but he wasn’t. And all he could think about was the fact that he could have lost you forever. No more running into you in public, no more voicemails. Even the little part of you he had, this little piece of something that mattered, would have been ripped away from him. Again.

Jake didn’t like to think about his mom that often—at least, not her death anyway. It had been a few years ago and Jake thinks he’s come to terms with it fairly well. He knows at the time he threw himself into boxing and neglected most of his relationships, even yours, but he likes to think that he’s gotten better. But you had been the one to help him through it, you had been the one to give him some meaning again. And the thought that he almost lost you too terrified him.

He’s sure Javy would laugh in his face—if the situation wasn’t so serious—at how, practically overnight, Jake had made this complete turn around. But in the morning, when Jake had expected you to yell at him, or leave, or never let him near you again, all you asked was that he tell you the truth. And he realized that the person he thought he had to be for you was never the one you wanted anyway. You’re giving Jake another chance, a chance to love you like he always should have, and Jake is going to make up for every second that he should have been there while you were shivering in that alley. He’s going to make up for every second he should have been there for the past year and a half.

“Look, I’m sorry man, but you didn’t see her, okay? It was— Whoever these people are, they’re dangerous. I can’t let something like that happen to her again. I won’t.” He looks for you again and, just like that day in the butterfly pavilion, it’s like suddenly all he knows how to do is look at you. “I won’t.”

“You really don’t have to keep waiting there for me to finish my shifts. You can always go do something else,” you try to assure Jake as he takes his helmet off your head.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles softly. “And what else would I do, angel?”

After each of your shifts ends, Jake gives you the option of either going to his house or your apartment. You know you should probably ask for him to take you home—you need time to think about everything. But then that would mean you were thinking about everything, and that wasn’t something you really wanted to do alone. Besides, he’d given you the bedroom while he slept on the couch, which means you had plenty of time to think anyway.

“You could go to the gym or something. I don’t want you to think that I expect you to just wait for me.” You trail after him as he starts heading to his front door.

“I don’t think that, angel,” Jake turns so he can look you directly in the eye. “I feel better knowing that I know where you are and what’s going on. ‘Sides, I get to stare at you for hours and I love doing that.” Your lips part in surprise, your cheeks burning, and Jake grins, opening the door. “This honesty thing is fun.”

That was another thing Jake had started doing. Ever since you asked him to tell you the truth, he started taking it upon himself to do that all the time. It was mostly an excuse to flirt with you, but he also compliments you a lot more genuinely or asks if you want to do things together more often. It’s nice.

Harley greets you at the door, completely sidestepping Jake, and the man looks down at him in exaggerated offense. You giggle as you reach down to scratch Harley’s head and the dog wags his stubby tail excitedly.

“Unbelievable,” Jake throws his hands up dramatically. “You don’t even say hi to me anymore?”

Harley turns to look at his owner, giving him the most unimpressed look a dog can manage, before looking back at you. You can’t help but laugh at Jake’s expression.

“Yeah, alright, jerk. I like her more than you too,” Jake scoffs, putting his shoes away before he glances at your temple and his eyes soften. “Let me look at your head again, sweetheart.”

When Jake finds himself turning over on the couch for the fourth time in two minutes, he sits up with a sigh. It’s a little after midnight and, though you both had gone to bed hours ago, he can’t seem to fall asleep. Getting up, he pads out of the living room quietly, walking over to the door frame of his bedroom and peeking inside.

You’d been leaving the door open for Harley’s sake, though the dog hardly leaves your side so Jake knows there’s really no reason to. Still, it allows him to check on you when he needs to.

You’re asleep in the middle of the bed, Harley stretched out next to you as one of your arms is thrown around him. Moonlight casts in through the room’s sliding glass door and it shines gently on your features. Jake watches you carefully, taking in your peaceful expression for any sign of distress, but doesn’t find any. He knows you are scared though, it’s the reason you came out with a suitcase when you both stopped at your apartment to grab some things this morning.

Jake’s jaw clenches at the thought. Though he’s been trying to ignore them, Bradley’s words have been playing in his head in a constant loop. He meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to do anything to bring you into whatever Bradley has found himself in. But maybe the damage had already been done. Clearly Bradley has no plans to just forget about whatever he’s found—not until he’s figured it out—and if these people already think you’re some kind of leverage against him, what’s to stop them from hurting you again? The only way Jake would know for certain that you were safe is if he makes sure they can never hurt you himself.

It takes one more look at you sleeping soundly in his bed, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, for Jake to take his phone out from his pocket. He clicks on Bradley’s contact.

Alright

I’m in

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@kmc1989

@s-u-t

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#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman imagine #hangman imagines #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfiction #x reader #one new voicemail #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

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sku11s1asher · 3 months

Note

Hi omg first time requesting from someone, but like soulmate aus?!?? Can you pretty please (if you can) make one of like arataki itto and the reader (male obvs) where its the first words of your soulmate and ittos first words are like something completely stupid??? Thabk you if you can but its alright if you dont wanna!!

itto x gn/male reader (soulmate au)

notes: i love itto, sorry this took so long bae; i had a fic already but my friends said it sucked so here’s this. i actually need to get a beta reader..i finish fics but i look into them too much and delete it without an actual reason. beta readers hmu frfr ;3

⊹ you always knew your soulmate was the brightest crayon in the box, you got a reminder of it every time you looked at your wrist, ‘worm’ was there.

⊹ though you won’t lie, you were very curious on who they were..who wouldn’t be?

⊹ you lived in liyue, you looked everywhere trying to find your soulmate, but there wasn’t anyone that dumb. at least not that you knew of..

⊹ you complained to your friend, kazuha, about it a lot. eventually he had enough and decided to take you with him on his next trip to inazuma.

⊹ once you arrived in inazuma, you kinda maybe forgot about your soulmate and explored the city looking for interesting things instead of your soulmate.

⊹ you were walking around town talking to kazuha, “what compels someone to do something so stupid?” you asked, “well if you knew him, you'd know he's the definition of stupid,” he responded. all you could think about was how and why a grown man would battle against children, with beetles. “what’s his name again?” “arataki itto.”

⊹ once you heard the man’s name, it immediately reminded you that you needed to look for your soulmate. “kazuha, you’re distracting me from my mission!” “your mission?” “finding my soulmate..?”

meet

⊹it’s been around 3 days, and still no soulmate. you were walking around the city, sulking to yourself about how you’d be alone for life since your soulmate obviously died. you didn’t see the person in front of you since you were too busy thinking about how you’d be alone for life.

⊹ bump. “what the..” it felt like you walked into a brick wall, but before you could fall you felt arms wrap around your waist. “you good, buddy?” the brick wall had a voice?

⊹ you looked up and felt your heart stop, “oh my god.” you were looking at the finest man you’ve ever seen in your life. once you snapped out your gaze you quickly composed yourself.

⊹ “ah, yeah, my apologies.” you took a step back, getting out of his grip. when you apologized, he let out a big smile, “it’s no big deal, im glad you’re okay.” while he was talking, you couldn’t help but take a look at his chest.

⊹ it was like his pecs were basically asking for you to touch them, but you decided to be a good man and not touch this strangers chest.

⊹ “you make me feel funny, like we have a deep connection even though we just met.” his words caught you off guard, “what?” “you must be my soulmate!” he said after a moment.

⊹ you looked at him like he was stupid, “how did you come to that conclusion? you know what, i don’t even want to know. what’s your name?” you asked him with a sigh.

⊹ “arataki itto!” he exclaimed with a huge smie. you immediately busted out laughing. you didn’t expect this guy who looks like he could pick up a house by himself, to be the guy who fought children with beetles.

⊹ you immediately apologized when you saw him pout, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh. i just didn’t expect you to be the guy who does the beetle fights.”

⊹ “let me see your wrist.” he asked but he grabbed your wrist before you could answer. after a few moments of closely looking, he hugged you, “i knew it, you’re my soulmate!!”

⊹ you could barely move your arms to hug him back, he was sucking all the air out of your body with the tight hug.

⊹ “cmon, i need to show my soulmate to the gang!” “gang..?”

extra 1:

⊹ “please, just one touch.” you whined while leaning onto ittos chest, your hands slowly going up his stomach.

⊹ “why are you so obsessed with my chest?” he asked with a laugh, but allowed you to touch them.

extra 2:

⊹ “are you really that proud with yourself for beating children?” you asked unimpressed when he bragged about winning matches.

⊹ “you don’t understand! that kid normally beats me! this is a huge accomplishment, y/n!”

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satosugusandwich · 2 months

Text

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

CW: violence in this chapter, threats, bloodiness, implied sexual violence and objectification

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*despite this being an aged up version of yuji, there will be no sexual stuff involving him, also the violence is only in the first chapter with a few mentions after that!!! Cross posted on Ao3 under Spicycrunchroll! THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT LATER ON!*

Chapter 1: Never Again.

Poor you, stuck with a gay best friend and his gay boyfriend and exclusively terrible, gross men. The struggle of getting a good man was hard enough, let alone getting some good dick. Even gay men will tell you how bad some dudes are. Its one thing to finish in 2 minutes and cry after, at least there's sympathy, but a whole other thing to just be kicked out of the guy's house immediately and left wearing d r y panties with cum on your shorts. Yeah, never hooking up again, you tell yourself each time. Now, you found yourself wiping the oil off your face with a clammy hand while dialing Yuji's number, having just been booted out this guys house in the middle of the night. It rang only about twice before he picked up.

"Please don't tell me something bad happened." He said on the other line.

You sighed, walking to the end of your date's driveway and sitting on the ground. "Worse than usual. Can you pick me up? I'll send you the address." Your head hung low and your eyes felt heavy, wanting to cry but not having the energy to do so. At this point, you're never fucking anyone again. Let alone agreeing to suck them off before you get off. "I should've known that all his talk were lies."

You could hear him breathe in. "Yeah, I'm coming. Wanna stay over?" He asked jubilantly, as if to raise your spirits.

You smiled softly. "Could you stay at my place instead?"

"Hell yeah!"

You said your goodbyes and opened your phone, aimlessly scrolling on social media while looking for something to distract you from the disappointment of being used up and left to the corner, dehumanized again by a shitty man with a big ego. God, it made you sick. It wouldn't take long for Yuji to get to you, but it wasn't fun waiting either. Each minute ticked on by as if an hour had passed and all you wanted to do was throw away your shorts and shower off the stench of vape juice and alcohol. You didn't want to get in his car and start sobbing about how you wished you never did what you did, not because Yuji wouldn't listen, but because of your own embarrassment. Itadori has always been kind and much more level-headed (at least with this, he's usually just as stupid as you) so its extra embarrassing to have to tell him you sucked off a guy who didn't even get you wet. At least he was clean, you tell yourself, deleting Tinder from your phone for the last time. Never again will you take subpar dick from grown men who act like children! No, from now on, your body only allows worthy men, men that would worship you like you'd worship them!

After sulking for another five minutes, the engine of a car in the distance rumbled in your ear. Straightening your back, your head turned in the direction of where it’s approaching. It’s approaching way too fast for a regular suburban neighborhood. Rising to your feet to take a step back, it already turned down the street you happened to be on and you could hear sirens go off in your head, especially as you noticed that none of their lights were on and they definitely didn’t have tags. The van sped past you but they started to slow down before they reached the end of the street. You felt your heart rate surge when you realized they came to a complete stop. At that moment you realized that they were turning around.

Quickly, your legs brought you to the house you had just left and you banged on the door for a few seconds and screamed.

“Hey! Let me back in!!! It’s not safe!” The roar of the car started again and your intuition told you to run so that’s what you did.

Fuck, who knows who these mother fuckers are! Your mind is racing thinking about what they could potentially do if they caught you. Did they know you were here? Did they just happen to see you? Or… did the motherfucker inside of that house tell them you were here? Oh fuck… that’s why he kicked you out.

Tears started falling from your eyes as you ran through these people’s yards, you could see lights coming on in some houses, but it was no use because the car behind you stopped and three men came out the side door. You prayed that your human survival instincts would kick in and catapult you to go faster than you were, but they were bigger than you and right on your tail. Your legs ached and burned, practically sprinting and trying not to trip in the road. You didn’t dare look behind you, scared to slow yourself down, and scared of them. You kept on running and running until you reached the end of the road and saw headlights.

“Yuji!” You screamed, recognizing the shape and color of his car. With you out in the road, he stopped abruptly and you could see his body jerk with the impact. The men behind you cursed themselves but you felt hands on you faster than Yuji could process what was going on.

“Get her now! He’s coming behind us we’ll throw her in!” The man lifted you and you screamed again, but a hand swiftly covered your mouth. Yuji was out of the car and lunged at the guy holding you captive but was quickly stopped and apprehended by the other two.

“The kid has some fucking balls!” The biggest of the guys holding Yuji shouted, earning a strong blow to the chin. You thrashed against the man’s body as the large van from earlier came up right behind you.

Yuji looked at you as blood dripped from his nose. “Y/n! I got it, I promise!”

You held out hope and believed him even as you were thrown inside the van and the driver pulled away from the scene, leaving the two men with Yuji and you with a man wearing all black pressing you into the floor of the van. Tears spilled from your eyes, angered and terrified at the same time.

“Looks like we got a real good catch!” The driver harrumphed. “Bet she’ll go for a pretty penny.”

Your mind practically stopped when you heard those words. You were going to be sold, like an object, like a slave. The horror of it all made your body go numb and eyes go wide and then you closed them.

“Please.” You begged. “Please let me go.” Your voice was hoarse and you could taste your own tears as your mouth opened.

“No can do. We were told that you’d fetch a high price with your skills. Don’t worry, some girls get a good owner.” His voice was menacing and cold, but he spoke as though he actually fucking believed it. He didn’t even laugh at your pain like a monster would, he was just indifferent, emotionless.

“Please.” You begged again. “I can’t do it, please let me out!” This time your voice raised. “Help!” Your mouth was stuffed with cloth and your face was buried more into the floor as he bound your wrists.

The driver started to chastise the other man. “Why didn’t you gag her right away, the dumb bitch is louder than a dying cat!”

The other man cussed back. “Shut the fuck up, there isn’t nobody coming after us!”

The van stopped so fast you and the man were flung to the front of the car, colliding with the back of the front seats.

“What the fuck!” The man that was holding you down swore. His arms were now off you and the bindings he attempted were loose enough that you released your wrists and went for your gag. “No you don’t!” He reached for your clothes, yanking you back. Before you were held against your will again, the entire van split down the middle, from door to door. The back half of the van was flung off to the side before it became a cut up mess in the middle of the road.

Then you saw him. His hair was the same color as Yuji’s but was much less controlled. You could see what looked like four arms and a giant smiling mouth in the middle of his stomach. Every single person in the van went still and silent, staring at him. The creature looked inside and dead at you, bright red eyes gleaming in the moonlight. All four of them. Even the two on the side of his face that looked almost like a mask. He can’t be real. The tattoos all over his body were arranged in such a pattern that it was beautiful but something that scared you even more.

The creature spoke. “Now.” His gaze shifted from you to the man holding you. “I prefer it when I can get a good fight out of my opponents, but you lot are pathetic.” He looked disappointed. “Normal humans…”

No one spoke and he pouted. “Not a single retort? None of you pathetic excuses of flesh can say a word? You had a lot to say about selling the woman, can’t you entertain me? Or are your brains so simple you can’t think outside of making money off selling one of your own?”

Their own? Did he mean… humans?

The man behind you was shaking. And you could definitely feel his pants getting wet.

The creature before you sucked his teeth. “Boooring.” He narrowed his eyes. “And pathetic.” The vehicle was slashed once again, this time cutting into thirds, leaving you and the man holding you isolated in the middle while the other two thirds, including the driver collapsed around you. You heard squelches of flesh from the front and gasping. “You said she sounded like a dying cat, hm? Since you prefer the quiet so much, I thought I’d help you.” The creature chuckled.

The man holding you finally let you go, and he turned around to see the driver. You didn’t look. You knew what the creature did. Scurrying away, you realized headlights were approaching again and… it was Yuji!

“Ahhh, the brats already here. Well, I can’t kill you lot so how about I leave the piss-soaked one with a lesson.”

You didn’t know if you should thank the monster or run from him. You decided to run toward Yuji’s car.

Another crack resounded in your ears and then a gut-chortling scream resounded from behind you. “There we are. Something nice and fast. I hope they don’t find you until the morning.” You didn’t want to know what he did, you didn’t want to dare to turn around, all you cared about was the car door opening for you and Yuji’s comforting presence.

He looked so relieved to see you. “Y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Don’t worry about those guys. I got you now. Sukuna won’t kill them, he can’t, but they’ll never ever do anything like that again to anyone.” Those were the first words to meet your ears. You didn’t say anything, all you did was sob in the seat next to him as he drove off and away from the scene. You didn’t ask anything. You didn’t want to. All that mattered was getting the fuck away from this and home and into a clean bed.

You could care about this later.

“I would’ve killed them if it wasn’t for this contract.” Your heart jumped out of your chest as the monster’s voice resounded in the backseat. “Sorry you don’t get the pleasure of knowing they’re dead.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #Sukuna x reader #Sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryoumen smut #Sukuna x reader smut #jjk smut #yuji itadori

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drefear · 10 months

Text

Tears Don't Fall (Bullet For My Valentine)

Let's go!

Katsuki Bakugou loved his wife more than anything. More than everything. So why?

Why did he do that?

Now she was on the ground of their home, their penthouse. Being a pro hero had given him the world, but she was his world and he did everything he could for her. Gave her diamonds and lavish clothing, spa trips and vacations. And in return, she had been loyal, given him two beautiful children and a lifetime of happiness.

Why did he do that?

He had no idea, but she was broken. He had broken her. Done the worst thing he could have possibly done and gotten caught.

On a national fucking television site.

It was weeks ago, but it was just so much. A villain had targeted the school his kids went to and he didn’t get there until Midorya and Todoroki had, already working on getting survivors and victims out. He was lucky, his kids knew precautions and he had trained them on what to do, so they’d gotten out.

But Midoriya’s… they weren’t as lucky. Midoriya had three, another on the way, and his middle child had gotten stuck between a falling piece of fire and a wall.

Bakugou couldn’t stop playing Midorya’s face over and over again. He felt responsible for some reason, maybe if he’d gotten there on time then they’d have had enough hands to save all of those kids. Now he was on those stupid tubes and machines and Bakugou was crying at his desk. As he wrote the paperwork, his eyes wouldn’t stop smudging the black on his face. The only thing he wanted to do was hold his kids close at that moment. Hold his wife.

With bloodshot eyes, I watch you sleeping The warmth I feel beside me is slowly fading Would she hear me if I called her name? Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

But he was stuck in this stupid fucking office, and when the secretary knocked on the door, he lost all restraint. Grabbed the edge of the desk, he flipped it and she shrieked. He quickly regained control and slammed the door shut, knowing it wouldn’t look good if his anger got out. He’d worked too hard to get that under control since high school, he wouldn’t let it get him now.

And then she was close to him. That tiny stupid blonde that always fucked up his lunch. She didn’t make it like his perfect wife.

But his hands were too shaky. He couldn’t sign what she had for him, he couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t-

He couldn’t push her away when she kissed him. He couldn’t stop when she touched him, held him.

He needed comfort and he couldn’t stop anymore, he was too far gone, too high strung.

There's always something different going wrong The path I walk's in the wrong direction There's always someone fucking hanging on Can anybody help me make things better?

A week later, a call came in through the telecoms of his office.

“You have one week to get me 2 million dollars or that video plays on youtube.” His hands felt shaky again, and this time it wasn’t rage. It was fear.

“I’ll have it to you in an hour, delete it immediately.” He said instantly.

“An hour? Maybe I’m making this a bit too easy. How about 20?”

“Do you want the money or for me to be scared? Because congrats, dumbass you did it. Delete it.” Bakugou was straining to not break the tiny office phone in his hands. His chest was heaving.

“I want you to feel pain like I have. I want you to lose something.”

Bakugou knew it. It was a sudden realization but he knew it.

“Don’t. Please.” he begged and the laughter that came through was loud, strained. Insane.

“Cmon now, Ground Zero! Don’t be so boring, you’re usually the life of the party!”

Bakugou knew it would end with that stupid tape being public, but he didn’t think it would be this bad.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

He saw it first when he was walking on patrol, someone glaring at him. He shrugged it off. Heroes were a controversial topic for everyone, he chalked it up to just that. He continued until he heard sounds. Pornigraphic sounds. Playing from that same person’s phone, he approached them.

“Hey, you can’t be playing that shit-”

“Ugh! Mr. Bakugou!” The phone sound rang out and his eyes fell to the screen they were previously looking at. It was a stupid little pink phone case, but he was on screen. And so was that blonde. And he was running. Fast. He had to tell her before she found out like this. God, he knew he fucked up, he knew this was it, but he couldn’t let her find out from a fucking TMZ video.

The moments die, I hear no screaming The visions left inside me are slowly fading Would she hear me if I called her name? Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

Getting back to his office, he saw the blonde and sneered at her, then realizing she was bawling her eyes out. She must have seen, she was probably embarrassed. Young, dumb, she wasn’t in a good position either. He didn’t have time for her. He had to get home. Bakugou grabbed his clothing and bolted for his car.

He sped. He didn’t care. His world was crumbling and he needed to at least make sure one last piece wasn’t completely shattered. The only piece that mattered to him.

There's always something different going wrong The path I walk's in the wrong direction There's always someone fucking hanging on Can anybody help me make things better?

When he got home, he recognized Midoriya’s car and rushed to the top floor, his home. “DEKU!” He shouted and looked around after bursting through the door, seeing Izuku standing casually dressed in his kitchen with his children in their pajamas. He was holding some food and his kids ran to Bakugou.

“Daddy!” They smiled and hugged him, as he bent down to hold them back, but his eyes never left Izuku’s. And Izuku’s were just as focused, shooting daggers at him. He deserved it, but he needed her right now.

“Go to your rooms, bratz.” He chidded and patted their backs as they went off, Izuku tucking one hand in his pocket. They stood in silence and then Bakugou heard it.

Ururaka’s voice, Momo’s consoling, and his wife’s cries. A part of him was crushed, turned to dust that instant. He was too late. Again. His fists shook by his sides and then raked through his blonde spikey hair.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

“Deku-”

“Just go. Go in there and look at what you did for yourself.” Izuku leaned back against the counter and looked at the ground. “Ochaco and I are taking the kids tonight. They don’t need to see this.” And with that, he headed towards Bakugou’s kid’s rooms. Bakugou couldn’t even speak, his throat was dry.

And his feet moved towards his bedroom door. His body shuddered, tears already streaming down his eyes. Knocking at the door, Momo was the first to answer. She opened it and stared at him for a second, then moving aside and walking out of the room.

“Ururaka, let’s go. It’s time.” Momo’s voice was quiet. Bakugou didn’t move as the women brushed past him without a glance, then hearing his kids leaving with the three other pro heroes.

Once the door shut, he felt empty. It was time to face her. Face his mistakes, and own it. And accept her choice.

He opened the door a crack and saw his greatest fear.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

She was in a ball on the floor, still as beautiful and perfect as the day they met, but this time, heartbroken and small. Her hair was a knotted mess, clothes stained with tears, hugging her knees to her chest. She was holding something, but he couldn’t make it out in the dark.

He made small steps towards her and got on his knees before her, just grabbing her and holding her close. He didn’t know if he would ever get to again.

This battered room I've seen before The broken bones they heal no more, no more With my last breath I'm choking Will this ever end? I'm hoping My world is over one more time

“I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry…” He whispered over and over and over, her whimpering the only other sound. A moment of this and then her cries roared, like she was being tortured, and he flinched. His own tears were blurring everything for him, but he wasn’t going to stop trying. Not now, not ever. “Please, baby… please. I love you, I swear, I was just distracted and I couldn’t get to you, and I was guilty about Midoriya and I just wanted to get home and see you, but then she walked it and I lost it, I lost it-” He was rambling, much like that damn nerd, but not about quirks, about his own fucking mistakes.

A crack sounded out through the room, echoing off the walls. His face was sore, her hand leaving a red imprint on his cheek. He stared at her and her face was a combination of horrified and sad beyond comparison. He just closed his eyes and sniffled.

“Do it again.”

“What?” She whispered.

“Do it until you feel it’s just. Hit me, kick me, punch me, I don’t care, just don’t- don’t stop loving me.” His eyes went back to hers and her body crumbled under his. Her hands fell against his chest weakly and her eyes closed again, his hands moving to cradle her head. “I- I can’t…” She answered and Bakugou felt happiness for a split second before her next words ruined it. “I’m trying to… But I can’t.”

Would she hear me if I called her name? Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

His world was over, nothing mattered, and whoever took that video was going to die. “C-Carry me to the shower… please… I can’t walk and I just- I just want to-”

“Shhh I got it.” He answered and picked her up as she asked, carrying her to the bathroom and sitting her on the tub. He saw what was in her hands now. It was his tie from their wedding night, and his heart ached again. He began to help her undress, seeing the bags under her eyes and how red and puffy they were from her salty tears, lips dry and split from crying. Her hair looked like she’d run her fingers through a million times, almost painfully so. He hated seeing her like this, not when a month ago, they were planning their ten year anniversary. She was like a doll, so small and fragile right now, porcelain in his big, calloused hands. Her body looked hollowed, like she hadn't eaten yet that day. He stayed quiet, turning on the water and feeling it until it was her comfortable level of warmth.

There's always something different going wrong The path I walk's in the wrong direction There's always someone fucking hanging on Can anybody help me make things better?

After a moment, he lifted her and let her settle in, moving to let her relax in peace. But something caught his hand, and he looked back down at the fragile woman in the tub.

“Please… come in with me… I don’t want to be alone right now… I-I don’t have… the strength.” She mumbled and he sucked in a breath, pain surging through his veins. He hated this, but he would do anything she wanted. Forever.

Removing his shirt, he felt the stress of the day hit him, muscles sore from work and then this all. He moved and took off his pants and underwear, shifting his weight and finally stepping in. He slid her forward slightly to sit her between his legs so he could hold her, cradle her as best he could.

He felt her lean back and his hands moved to touch her skin, massage the ache she must have been having from sitting on the floor in a ball. He pushed the image away as he focused on kneading the woman’s tension. A comfortable sigh left her and he felt a swell of relief inside of him. This was… good, to say the least. They weren’t fighting, she didn’t hate him, and he was seeming to do almost everything right. He leaned his forehead to her temple and let his eyes close, feeling her reciprocate and nuzzle in closer.

“Forgive me…” he whispered, “please… I can’t live without you.”

“Katsuki…” Her voice cracked as she said his name, his hand brushing the wet hair stuck to her face behind her ear. “I want to… I do…”

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this, to get you back, to keep you with me…” he answered, the rasp in his voice always soothing her, reminding her who she was talking to. “I love you too much to let myself ruin this…” She nodded at his words and he left a kiss on her temple, where his forehead had been, while a tear rolled down his cheek.

After a bit of just silence in the bathtub, he got them both out and dry, then helped her change into pajamas and brushed her hair. He’d take care of her, make sure she didn’t do anything for herself. After that, he went to the kitchen and called his office.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home (tears don't fall) Your tears don't fall, they crash around me (conscience calls) Her conscience calls, the guilty to come

“I’m taking two weeks off. Fire the girl, make sure my next assistant is a man. Cancel everything in my calendar for the next few weeks. My phone is going off and it’s not turning back on until I get back. Understood?”

“Bakugou,” he heard Sero’s voice, then a sigh and Kirirshima in the background, “do what you gotta do man, just don’t fuck it up again.”

“Get her back, and man up to it, dude. I believe in you.” Kirirshima spoke after the other and there was a second of quiet.

“Thank you guys. I owe you one for this. Really.” His grip on his cellphone tightened as he spoke and he knew they didn’t know how to react to his sensitive side. Only she did. “I’ve got to go.” He hung up and grabbed water and her favorite snack, chips and ketchup. It was so weird and gross and unnatural to him, but she loved it and he loved it because she loved it.

Going back into the bedroom, he put down the water and the bowl of chips, sitting across from her.

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” She whispered.

“No, you’re depressed because I’m an ass, take one bite and I promise you’ll realize how hungry you are.” One bite turned into three into ten into the bowl, and soon it was empty. He brought it to the kitchen and went back to her, standing next to the bed. “I think- maybe I should sleep in the guest room.”

“But… I’ll get cold…” she mumbled, “I mean, I just- I haven’t slept alone… in almost ten years…” His heart was jumping with joy. Holy shit, this was good. He nodded and moved to get in next to her.

“I won’t touch you unless you-“

“Shut up, Katsuki.” She finally spoke directly and with volume, “just shut up.” And she pulled him close, head on his chest as she grabbed the light remote and hit a button, putting them in the pitch back darkness. He was stiff, a bit scared to move. His wife had never been a direct person, so gentle with her words and actions, but this made her really toughen up and set him straight. He relaxed and left a hand on her head, petting her hair and soon she was asleep.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me (conscience calls) Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

Bakugou didn’t sleep at all. He was watching her the whole time, admiring her, praying that this would never end. And when she mumbled his name in her sleep and pulled him tighter to her, he knew. He would do everything for her. There was nothing in this world that could keep him from her, and he would make damn sure of that forever more.

#bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou angst #angst #cheating bakugou #bakugo angst #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #drefear playlist

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thecynthh · 4 months

Text

how about we try that one more time? M.S

synopsis - matt wouldn't stop biting his nails and y/n gotta do something about it

notes - fully matts pov, childhood best friends, just kissiing nothing too mild,

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Matt's pov

i recently became more active on tiktok like nick requested me to be, despite not really knowing how to use the app i started to post next to daily as well as chris and nick. tiktoks of us just jamming out to songs always goes well so i started a little series showing the fans a new song from my playlist every two days while in between those i post whatever im feeling.

today was the song locked out of heaven by bruno mars

“can i just stay here?”

“spend the rest of my days here”

“cus’ you make me feel like i’ve been locked out of heaven”

i look into my bathroom mirror singing along with the song, doing a little dance when the drums kick in again hearing the crash of the symbols. i’d admit, i thought i looked pretty good, my fit was on point that day and i was really feeling myself.

sturnl00v3 : matty poo lookin a little too good today

heartzplusstarz : struggling as a chris girl over here 😔

bernardluvver : living for the slutty waist !!

the whole tiktok replays again for the third time, after hearing it again y/n props herself up on her elbows and says, “god how many times are you gonna watch yourself in that tiktok??” y/n was usually this mean to me but growing up together as neighbors and knowing her all these years made me forgive her for all of it, she was there with me and my brothers throughout everything and we were all used to her “can do” attitude.

her legs were draped over my thighs and her eyes watched my phone intensively. “do you still wanna get kane’s later or do you wanna complain?” I retorted, making her drop back down onto the couch and hold her hands up. “i surrender.”

i go back to scrolling through the comments seeing a few more.

sturnz : damnnnn mans looking fine asf

bluesturniolo : ANYTHING FOR U MATT !!!!

sturnontop : yalls see the outline…..

╰┈➤ bluesturniolo : i just know what’s behind his cargos 🤤

lessasturniolo : F ME LIKE U MAD AT ME BABYYYYY

oh. oh.

is that really all that they think about me? a shiver rolls through my body and my hand comes up to my mouth as i chew on my nails. a foot hits my hand out of my mouth, i give y/n the nastiest side eye while she looks at me like she didn’t do anything.

“what the fuck was that for?” i raise my voice slightly.

“don’t bite your nails you stupid fuck,” she says as a come back, i was unphased when she matched my tone. i ultimately just let it go and continued looking through comments.

sturnnw0rld : girlies on tumblr gna go insane for this one matt

user92380 : id hit that.

likelystrniolo : fuck me! please!

despite what y/n said to me i continue to bite my nails, i didnt enjoy biting them but i couldnt help it. especially with these comments, they make me nervous and uncomfortable. with seconds of actually contemplating, my finger hovers over the delete button.

suddenly i feel y/n’s body move and she begins to straddle me, uh oh. i stare up at her not knowing what her next move is, she rips my nails out of my mouth and connects our lips.

i go along with her antics and reciprocate the kiss, she bites down on my bottom lip requesting access to the inside of my mouth. her hands find my arms and wraps them around her body with her arms snaking around my neck, pulling us impossibly close together.

i put my hands on her cheeks slightly pushing her off of my mouth, our needy mouths disconnected. she gives an exasperated sigh and starts to open her mouth, “nick told me to make sure you weren’t biting your nails cus u guys had a nail appointment, that was the only way i could think about stopping you.” an innocent smile paints her face.

“if i knew biting my nails could make you wanna kiss me i would be doing it more.” i saw when the same stupid smile bloomed on my lips as well. “so, how about we try that one more time before i start biting my nails again yeah?”

a/n - christmas/new years present for yalls 😘

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #syn speaks #matthew sturniolo

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magics-neptunes-things · 6 months

Text

Prom

Hello!

This one is from a request, I hope it will please you as much as the others. I'd like to really thank all of you for your kindness it really mean very much to me. My life isn't really easy for now and writing help me a lot. I'm glad I can have someone to read my work here ♥

It's only fluff in here :)

______________________________________________________________

You just can't help it. You just can’t fight the force of attraction that constantly clings your eyes to Ona’s silhouette. This girl was a great player, charismatic, very kind and smiling. But she also had the gift of being both particularly cute while being frightfully sexy. You fell for her the second your eyes landed on her. She came to your school early this year for a school exchange. She’s supposed to finish school here and was recommended to be on your high school soccer team. Enough to say that she quickly demonstrated her qualities, so much so that the coach decided to appoint her captain. A nomination that could have attracted problems with other girls, but they were all quickly aware of Ona’s qualities.

You, on the other side, you were the captain of the cheerleaders, so you have the chance to be able to watch her play every game. Since you frequent the same places, you were quickly brought to discuss together. And you found yourself falling even harder.

Your sexual orientation doesn't question anybody, you have long demonstrated your interest for girls only. You don’t know for Ona though. She has never been in a relationship since she arrived here and she seems not to be interested in all those who have tried their luck. Always with her eternal sweet smile, she dismisses them kindly before shifting her attention to football.

You had an incredible chance anyway, because of your catastrophic results in Spanish, your teacher offered to ask Ona to give you private lessons. You agreed and so did Ona, but it didn’t help you get close to her because in the way you wanted because you find yourself blushing and feeling particulary stupide every time.

But eventually your work payed off and it’s with a big smile that you find the Spanish girl in the corridors of the school, shaking a paper in front of her face.

"What is it?" she asks with a smile, her voice making strange things in your belly everytime, before grapping the piece of paper. "Madre mia Y/N a A-?"

You don’t answer, just nod with a big smile. You’ve never scored as high as this one and you owe it to the brunette.

"Felicitaciones!"

She jumps happily before hugging you and kissing your cheek. And here you are again, blushing red like a damn tomato.

"Muchas gracias" you smile, hopping Ona didn't realise your blush. "But I still need your help though. I have a writing for next week, would you mind?"

"Of course not. I have training this afternoon but can I come tomorrow?"

**********

Tomorrow being friday night, you propose to Ona to come for diner and work on your essay afterwards. Your parents aren’t here like pretty much every Friday night, both of them being part of a club with all of her friends. Well it's literally an excuse to meet them and have drinks, but you pretend not to realize it. Your older sister is out too with her boyfriend, like every Friday night too.

"How was practice?" you ask Ona, erasing a deleted sentence on your page.

"Good, good" the other girl answer absent-mindedly.

She was standing behind you in your room, looking at the pictures and the posters hung on the wall. You can’t see it and look over your shoulder. She turns her back on you and is admiring the one with your best friend, dating from this summer. You and she had managed to get her parents to take you with them, and this was probably the best vacation of your life.

Realizing that your gaze lingers a little too long on her arms and her butt, you suddenly shift your attention to your writing, cheeks burning.

"I think I’m done" you mumble a few minutes later, scratching your head.

"Let me see"

Ona answers you softly and comes back to sit next to you. You don’t move when you feel her knee leaning against your thigh, trying to ignore the heat wave that seizes your entire body. The attraction you feel for her becomes ridiculous, especially when a look in her direction tells you that she does not even seem to have realized.

"It's pretty great actually. You just made one or two grammar mistakes, but otherwise it’s fine. Your progress is really impressive"

"I have a very good teacher"

Ona looks at the sheet that she is correcting to send you a smirk and you almost faint. Jesus Christ this woman.

"Done!" she says soon after with another smile.

You thanks her again and a glance at your phone inform you that it's pretty early. Even if you would appreciate more than ever to spend extra time with Ona, you do not know under what pretext to propose her to stay. But she doesn’t get up from your chair though, leaning on the backrest and gently turning it from side to side.

"So, what’s on tonight?" she asks and you shrug.

"Nothing really. I have to stay to watch the house"

"Alone?"

"Yeah? Sometimes Hannah comes too, but tonight she was busy"

You see Ona’s look for a few seconds on the photo she was looking at earlier, representing you with your best friend on the beach. And she turns her attention back to you.

"You both seems very close"

"Yes, I mean I know her since we are five but it’s like she’s always been part of my life."

"Are you together?"

A few seconds pass during which you look at Ona, digesting the surprise of her question. Then you end up laughing a little before shaking your head.

"Like together, together? Nah, she's like my sister. Plus she's straight as a die."

Ona nod and you put the mess on your desk together, now that you’re done studying.

"So if I ask you to go to the prom with me next week, it might not hurt anyone?"

Holly mother of god. You gather feverishly the papers you dropped under emotion and you have to clear your throat to chase the feverish in your voice.

"No one will be hurt if you ask me" you mumble shyly before adding "Except maybe all your pretenders who are rushing to the gate."

Ona rolls her eyes.

"Would you? Come to prom with me?"

You raise your eyes on her face to make sure she’s not joking. But that doesn’t seem to be the case and you even manage to see hope in her eyes. As if it were possible for you to hesitate for a second.

"I'd love to"

**********

Maybe it’s a little cliché the captain of cheerleaders going to the prom with the captain of the soccer team. But honestly, you don’t care. You don’t know how the rest of the school could have known so quickly about Ona's request, but it seems like by Monday most of the others students were already aware.

You may have seen different reactions from your friends, most of were happy for you. You didn’t expect, however, that some would show jealousy by asking aloud what had pushed Ona to ask you to accompany her. You haven’t been able to speak so much to the Spanish during this week, both of your training sessions require special attention given the advanced championship.

But you have to admit that these hallway gossips and these kinds of remarks altered your confidence so much that you ended up writing to Ona in the middle of the week to make sure that she still want to go with you.

You - Hi Ona. Sorry to bother you. I just was wondering if you still want to go together at the prom?

Ona - Hola! Of course, why? Ona - Have you change your mind?

You - Not at all, just asking. You - What will you wearing?

Feeling the questioning of the other girl, you quickly changed the subject under the pretext of being able to coordinate your outfits. You didn’t want her to realize the insecurities you can have sometimes. You are the cheerleaders captain, you know perfectly well that if you let the slightest thing appear, it can quickly turn against you.

Ona told you that she will pick you at 8, and here you are, looking at yourself on the mirror of your bathroom. The more you look, the more you feel that the outfit you have chosen is not the right one. But you don't have time to think about it any longer, because soon the bell rings and you hurry to the entrance. Your parents and your sister are home and you don’t necessarily want them to bother Ona today.

You scream a goodbye and slam the door, making your way to Ona's car. She’s waiting for you and her vision takes your breath away. She’s perfect, whether it’s her outfit, her haircut, her makeup. So perfect that you want to cry. You will never be in her league. Yet she slowly approaches you with a big smile.

"You are beautiful" she tells you while extending her hand to go with her towards the passenger door.

" You’re the on to talk" you answer, biting the inside of your lip.

You almost make a comment about how many will be jeslous of you when the will see you to her arm, but you hold back. You already hinted that last week when she invited you and you don’t want to be too annoying.

A comfortable silence settles between you and you smile as you hear her humming the song passing on the radio. It's only a few minutes later that Ona breaks the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"How did you end up captain of the cheerleaders?" asked Ona, glancing at you. "No offense, but you don’t have the same characteristics as your teammates. You are not superficial, you are not selfish, you have respect for everyone… It doesn't fit so much in the usual codes, you know?"

You look at her for some seconds, thinking about her question. You already know the answer, but you're thinking about the way you can say the things.

"My sister was in the team, my mother was in the team... I guess I just wanted to show them that I can make it too."

You shrugs, before looking at the window. You didn't mean to say that your mother or your sister are superficial and all, but you don't really have the same vision of things.

"Do you even like it?"

"Somehow. It has some advantages. You can met interesting people"

You glance at her and she intercedes, your answer seems to make her smile. It makes you smile back despite the slight heat that once again invades your cheeks.

You arrive a few minutes later and once Ona has parked, she hurries around the car to open your door. You thank her with a smile and look mechanically around you. You notice glances at both of you, but your attention is quickly diverted by Ona’s hand which gently settles in the hollow of your back to train towards the entrance. As light as a butterfly, her hand on the fabric of your dress is pleasant and you refrain from leaning against it.

The evening passed at the speed of light and you had an incredible time. You still don’t explain yourself how you just didn't ignite on the spot. You and Ona danced during the evening, her hands on your waist giving you the impression that your legs turned into jelly. Every touch, every glance or smile brought you a little more to fall under the spell of the Spanish. It’s been a long time now that the stage of crush seems to be over, you are completely crazy about her.

Ona was closer to you physically than ever and you allowed yourself to look at her a little more strongly. You got lost in her eyes and yours landed several times on her lips.

But you are now going back home, in the same comfortable silence as before. The only difference is that this time your hands are intertwined on your leg and you play mechanically with the fingers of the young woman. You arrive a little too quickly to your liking and you shift your attention to the latina when she turns off the engine.

"Thank you for inviting me. I had a great evening" you smile softly, reluctantly leaving Ona to recover her hand.

"Me too" answers Ona smiling before undoing her belt. "I take you home."

Coming out of the car, you slowly follow her to your front door. The lights are off on the ground floor, but the one on the floor tells you that your parents are not sleeping yet.

"It went too fast" Ona pout, gently putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

Quick, air needed please. You focus all your concentration to listen to the words she says to you and not faint.

"It’s true" you mumble without really realizing what you’re saying.

Ona answers nothing, her gaze in yours. Your heart beats too fast, so fast that you have the impression that Ona can hear it. Hypnotized by her, you notice that she came forward only when her face is only a few centimeters from yours. From there you can see the depth of her gaze, every single one of her freckles.

And then, she kissed you. Slowly, letting you the time to stop her if you don’t want to.

But you want to, obviously. You would be unable to describe how you feel during this kiss, but your heart rushing against your thorax cage might speak for you.

"My heart will explode" you whisper against her lips without fully taking them off.

"I’ve wanted to do this for ages, you have no idea how much"

The answer of the latina makes you open your eyes and you find yourself immersed in her chocolate eyes, so warm and pleasant.

"I’m glad you did"

She offers you a new smile and takes you completely against her for a new kiss. A little more harder this one, but still light, made to discover you both. Her hands caress your face while yours are in the hollow of her back.

You feel like you could spend hours there, but you realize you have to go home if you don’t want to get your parents' attention.

"Will you writing to tell me that you have arrived well?" you ask her gently, your hands caressing her arms.

"Promise" she answers you before stealing a new kiss. "Sleep well"

Then it’s your turn to steal one from her, before she goes back to her car. Waiting for her to leave to enter your home, you can’t erase the big smile on your face when you go up to your room. You go directly in it, starting to undress and remove your makeup. You just putted on your pajamas when your phone vibrates, indicating the reception of a new message.

Ona - I came home well. I hope to wake up tomorrow without realizing that it was all a dream. Sleep well Princess ♥

You - Sleep well too, Hermosa. I look forward to seeing you again ♥

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine

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cerise-on-top · 6 months

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Giving König a Bracelet to Help with His Anxiety

@puff0o0 Hey, I'm the anon who said they'd write this! I know you deleted that ask, which is why I'm not really sure if you care about this anymore in the first place, so if this bothers you, just tell me and I'll delete it! Either way, I hope it's enjoyable enough and thank you for the idea!

From the doorway you watched the behemoth go about his day, with him currently picking out the food he would like to make. From what you could see, both options he weighed seemed to have been some form of pasta, although his large frame did cover the picture of the second bag. With a sigh, he put down one of them, the winner seemingly being noodles with broccoli sauce.

“I hoff meim Liebling werdn’s schmecken. Guad sans jo eigentlich scho.”

Fascinating, he was speaking his mother tongue again, but seemingly in the way where no machine translator in the world could help you. Strange as it was, to have been so confident in what little German you did know, there were many times you failed to understand him, but that’s what made it all the more charming as well. Either way, dialect or not, you had something else planned, something transcending language.

Creeping up to him, like a benevolent shadow, you took the piece of jewelry out of your pocket, holding it in your hand as you gave it another quick glance. It should fit him, but hopefully, it won’t pinch him too much. Seemingly distracted by the packet of noodles, or maybe he was just playing along with you, it was hard to tell, you stood behind him, not making a move. It was a bit ironic in your eyes: The gift you had gotten him takes its bearer’s anxiety and cleanses it, yet here you were, worried he might not like it. It still wasn’t too late to go back, or maybe leave it somewhere for him to find. Which, however, would make way for another problem, mainly that he would think it belonged to you when such couldn’t be further from the truth. You were certain König was a different man on the battlefield, fierce, frightening, fatal, but when it came to domestic things, he seemed a bit lost.

He was a sweetheart to you at all times, very aware of his strength and how easily he could hurt you by accident. He’s cracked several eggs on his hand instead of inside the frying pan, he’s even broken glass by holding it. And even then, the problem wasn’t the splitters in his hand, he was more worried about you being mad at him for breaking it. The guilt in his eyes was something else as you patched him up.

“I don’t deserve someone like you.”

And every time anew, you would tell him:

“Who said that?! Who do I need to cuddle the sadness out of?!”

Stupid as it was, it would always make him smile. But you couldn’t always be there with him, reassure him that everything was going to be alright. You probably didn’t need to, but you couldn’t help but want to, no matter what. For as scared as you were this time, you had to bite the bullet, let it be known that you loved and cared for him, even got him something. “Honey?”

“Oh, you’re back home. I am so glad to see you, I was just about to make dinner. Say, do you like broccoli?”

König turned to face you, his slight excitement was evident in his voice, the fact he tried to swallow it down even more so. It was adorable how his eyes almost glistened in the artificial light just because he was looking at you instead of pasta instructions now.

Softening your grip on the small bracelet, you hadn’t even realized you were gripping tightly enough to cause pain, you put your other hand on top of it, making sure to conceal it entirely. This was all or nothing. “I, uh, got you something. Can I have your arm for a moment, please?”

“Naturally.” Taking the pack of pasta into his other hand, he extended his arm towards you. It never ceased to amaze you just how big it was, his hand, too. He could likely take someone’s skull and crush it using just one. But in that moment, all it did was hang there, giving you the opportunity to attach the bracelet. That you did, putting the hook through the loop to make sure it wouldn’t fall off.

“There we go.”

König lifted his arm towards his face, inspecting the little accessory closely. While he wasn’t quite sure what those pretty crystals were, he could make an educated guess, having listened to you talk about them from time to time. The purple one, he was sure, he could make out fairly easily, the faintly pink one made his gears turn for a moment. “...amethyst and rose quartz? Is that what those are?”

“Oh, you actually remembered.” Taken aback for a second, you recovered quickly enough, taking his arm into your hands. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “But yes, that’s what they are. Good job, König, that makes me really happy.” Flashing him a smile, you took a shaky breath. “I got you this because it will help with your anxiety, though it seems like I should have one myself, haha. The amethyst calms the mind and the rose quartz will soothe the heart. But generally speaking, rose quartz will also help you when you can’t sleep at night. I want this to be yours so you will be well wherever you are.”

König’s eyes widened for a moment, breaking eye contact with you to look at the bracelet instead. It was absolutely gorgeous, a reminder from you that everything will be alright, no matter when or where he may be. Softly, he rubbed your arm with his free hand before pulling you into a hug. You couldn’t complain, he was tall, strong and warm. It calmed your senses, feeling his arms wrap around you, as he muttered his gratitude to you.

“Danke, Schatzi, ich hab dich so so lieb, du hast ja gar keine Ahnung.”

That German seemed to be easier to understand than what he said about the noodles earlier.

“I love you too. Be well and come back to me always, alright? Do you promise you will do that for me?”

You pulled away from the hug, putting a hand on König’s cheek while caressing it gently with your thumb.

“Yes, of course.”

________________________________

“I hoff meim Liebling werdn’s schmecken. Guad sans jo eigentlich scho.” = "I hope my darling will like it. They are normally pretty good."

#cod #cod mw2 #könig x reader #könig mw2 #also this has some Austrian German in it because I do believe he would speak it when talking to himself #and also because I could #just a bit nervous about posting this #Shrimp if you're reading this: thank you for the idea but also sorry for bothering you

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ronniaugust · 10 months

Text

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

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goldensunset · 5 months

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💎 lokiss

🔁 traumaadcaelum Follow

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💎 lokiss

i think a snickers would’ve fixed baldr tbh

🙅 traumaadcaelum Follow

hi! can you NOT make jokes about the worst massacre that’s happened here in centuries?? my girlfriend was murdered that day but i guess people like you just love taking advantage of tragedies for funny internet clout. i hope you lose your heart in another world.

💎 lokiss

she baldr on my dr until i bald

#get off my post i literally lost someone too

479 notes

💐 my-other-car-is-a-keyblade-glider

my missing brother, brani, is finally back!!!! i’ve been so so worried for forever. thank you everyone who prayed with me 🙏

#he is acting a little weird though if i’m being honest #freya speaks

5 notes

🌸 dandelioneater

🔁 the-fourteenth-original-darkness

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🍎 valkyrie-of-dreams Follow

sometimes i feel like my taste in men is bad and then i remember there are multiple secret societies entirely dedicated to thirsting after master brain

🔑 its-kee-not-kai

you ever see a post that just looks like someone swinging a keyblade at a flappy bugs nest

#kingdom hearts grant me the serenity to not look at the notes #courage to not look at the notes #and wisdom to not look at the notes

56907 notes

🌕 tardyfleetfoot

Asking for a friend what do you do when a cable car stops in midair and starts shaking and swaying on the wire while you’re in there up there way high above the ground? Time sensitive question asking for a friend.

3 notes

🌚 the-fourteenth-original-darkness

🔁 my-other-car-is-a-keyblade-glider

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🧜🏻‍♀️ ieatchesspieces Follow

let’s explore the nearby abandoned towns together!

108500 notes

🔑its-kee-not-kai

🔁 master-odin-retire-challenge

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💍 ladyofsilver-fountains Follow

it’s really awful how people are acting like it’s illegal to have a sense of humor anymore. even in the wake of tragedy, humans have always been humans. plus it’s been almost a year now. life goes on, you know?

👢master-odin-retire-challenge

the context for this post is op lost their job and reputation because they laughed at the funeral of a little girl named vör when the person giving the eulogy couldn’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce her name correctly. please for the love of light stop blindly reblogging things like this.

#oh ewww i hate people

239 notes

🌘 xehanerd

to the anon who just sent that long-winded ask: my blog is my space. if you don’t like what i post then move on.

#xe.post #delete later

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🌘 xehanerd

🔁 dajokerofscala Follow

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🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

It drives me insane whenever people frame it like Baldr 'succumbing to darkness' and going crazy was inevitable. Sure, darkness played a part in that tragedy, but it completely overlooks the reality of how Master Odin failed to take care of that child at every step of the way. The boy was lost in grief, and the adult who was supposed to take care of him shoved him in an asylum-like room alone? Are we really going to leave that part out in favor of pushing the narrative that people prone to darkness are simply evil at heart? He could have lived a happy life being himself if he had been supported and nurtured. It didn’t have to be this way.

🌕 tardyfleetfoot

Right? We could have saved him from his darkness! He was our friend….

🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

That’s… not at all what I was saying, but I suppose a stupid comment like this is to be expected from somebody with ‘darkness dni’ in their bio. Thanks for trying.

🐓 everyoneshutupplease Follow

‘darkness played a part in that tragedy’ not you sugarcoating what happened for the sake of pushing YOUR narrative that the thing that’s been killing people since the dawn of time can possibly be anything but toxic. how many people have to die before people like you get in touch with reality???

🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

Sounds about right from someone who went through the Scala Ad Caelum public school system. Have you ever tried reading a book other than what was assigned for class? Please check your natural-light privilege and ignorance. Thanks.

🪐 fenrir-fanatic

look out lads we got another conspiracy theorist ‘homeschool your kids’ dork lmao

🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

And do you read anything other than sigurd x reader fanfiction, based on the first seven posts on your blog?

📈 whats-your-favorite-staircase-to-heaven Follow

the notes on this post were so toxic staff just axed ‘em

#sent to me #thank you joker

0 notes

#unreality #less than 24 hours later here’s the dr one lol #kingdom hearts #khdr #kingdom hearts dark road #dark road #mine: kh

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eternalbuckley · 8 months

Text

Insecurities. — evan buckley

SUMMARY: Reader gets insecure about their body after meeting Taylor Kelly. Buck is their to comfort them and tell them how beautiful they are.

word count: 1,166

genre: fluff, comfort | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: a tiny bit of angst, heavy fluff, reader being insecure about their body, mention about weight lose, mention of comments from bullies, established relationship, use of pet names (babe, darling, my love), english is not my first language — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: Thank you for this request anon, I'M SO SORRY tumblr deleted your request (i didn't know it would happen if you put in in your drafts.. guess i learned something new) but I still hope you'll find this story. I hope you had an amazing day as well! This topic is a very important one for me and I'm super sorry that it's so short but I still like the end result and I truly hope you'll like it. Might write more stories that are about comfort in the future soon! Enjoy reading 🫶

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

navigation | masterlist

Why was she so beautiful? Or is? Why would he be with you? He could go back to her immediately. Or even back to anyone else he dated so far or could date.

'She is prettier than you anyway,' you kept asking yourself these questions while you were standing in front of your mirror and looking at your body.

She’s skinnier than you, why would he be with someone like you? Taylor Kelly seemed to be perfect and you thought you were not.

“She’s so gorgeous…” you mumbled to yourself with tears in your eyes.

You slowly started sobbing more and tried to ignore your insecure thoughts but they were too much. You didn’t like your body, being plus size was always something you knew most of society wouldn’t accept. ‘You have to be skinny to get men’s attention’, ‘Be pretty’, ‘Don’t be fat’, ‘If you’re plus size you’re ugly’ and so much more. It was exhausting, especially hearing comments like these in your teenage years. They always made you insecure and you ended up crying in your room many many times. You didn’t know what to do and nothing ever helped. You tried a lot of ways to lose weight and get skinnier but nothing worked. People made fun of you for that and since then you never really got over your insecurities.

How can be the world such a cruel place for something you can’t control?

You didn’t want to let stupid comments from those people ruin your life. But your insecurities came back after you recently met Taylor Kelly, one of your boyfriends, ex-girlfriends.

You knew what she looked like from seeing her on your TV but in reality, she was much more beautiful and skinnier than you. And that made you insecure. You didn’t exactly know what happened between her and Buck and why they broke up. But if you would only go after looks, she would win against you. At least that’s what you kept thinking about yourself.

Buck on the other hand was the happiest person on earth knowing he had you on his side. It has been almost two years since you officially got into a relationship and he has been the happiest since then. He always made sure to compliment you every single day. Whether it was in person or over texts but he never forgot. Not one day. He loved seeing you blushing over his compliments and genuinely being happy about his words. They let you feel better. He just didn’t know how insecure it made you meeting Taylor, not yet.

Buck came up behind you and kissed your cheek. He wrapped his arms around you and eventually noticed the tears in your eyes and your sobs.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” He turned you around and hugged you.

You snuggled up into him and hid your face in his chest without answering his question. You finally let go of your tears and cried in his arms. He whispered sweet nothings to you and rubbed your back to comfort you. He sat down with you on your shared bed and let you cry it all out. Buck always wanted to make sure that you feel loved and comfortable in his presence. But one thing that was really important to him, was to give you always the time you need. It didn’t matter for what reason. If it was just for you to get ready for a date or even giving you all the time to feel comfortable around him. He would always wait for you. Which wasn’t the easiest part for you as well but you trusted Buck with your life. You loved him and how happy he made you. How he made sure that you feel completely safe with him. You admired this side of him the most.

You eventually stopped sobbing after some time and slowly got calm. You still didn’t let go of him but he tried to ask you again about the reason for your current emotional state.

You sighed, your voice was still trembling. “Taylor Kelly…”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to look at you but you still hid your face in his chest. “What about her? Did she say something to you? Do I need to talk with her to leave you alone? Did she-“

“No, no,” you slightly chuckled about his protective side and turned your head to look at him. “I just- Have you seen her? She’s gorgeous, Buck. Look at how skinny she is compared to me. I’m just me and she? She’s Taylor Kelly. A beautiful and no plus-sized girl. Like… Why are you with me? You could have her or any other person that is skinnier than I am, Buck.”

Your insecurities were growing again while you were looking at your boyfriend. You saw his admiring eyes but speaking your insecurity out loud was hard. That’s probably a reason you spoke faster than usual. His eyes showed a hint of sadness, about your words. Hearing you talking about yourself in that way hurt him because he didn't want that you are hurting. Buck knew about your past and what your former classmates did and said to you, he thinks it's horrible and you would never deserve that. No one would. Bullying is one of the worst things someone can experience and seeing what this can do to people hurts him the most. Especially seeing his most important person (you) like that. Buck wished he could take away all your pain and turn it into something beautiful.

Buck kissed your forehead, “And I absolutely don’t care about this at all. I have the most beautiful person sitting in my arms right now. And let me tell you, every time I look at this person my heart swells so badly because of all the love my heart holds for that one special person. That is sitting in my arms by the way, in case I didn’t mention that already.” He took a breath. “And I love them with my entire life, no one can compare to them at all. They’re the definition of beauty.”

Tears build up in your eyes again and you kissed his jaw. Buck chuckled and nudged your nose.

“I would never want to be with Taylor or any other person just because they look different than you. I really don’t care about this, my love. I only care about you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the most beautiful and kind person I’ve ever seen and no one can ever compare to you. I love you and nothing can and will ever change that.”

He eventually softly kissed you on the lips which caused a smile on yours.

“I love you too, Buck. And I never want to lose you," your voice was still a bit weak.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You won’t get rid of me that easily, darling.” He grinned at you and kissed your nose afterwards.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

AITA for insisting on an apology?

☆I'M SO SORRY THIS GOT WAY TOO LONG☆

(Ok tbh I feel like I already know the answer, but I'd like some other opinions just in case. Also, I kinda need to vent, sorry)

(ALSO- I tried to post this on reddit AITA and holy shit are they picky about submissions- this story got deleted because "no interpersonal relationship problems allowed". WHAT possible conflict situation would not be interpersonal? Can you even have a AITA submission that isn't interpersonal?)

My mom is a premium member of a casino and she found out that the casino was having a BBQ for the premium members and their guests. So she wanted us to go.

Except she didn't find out about this BBQ until the day before it would happen and I had work that day and since my shift had long ended, I would not get a chance to talk to anyone at work about switching shifts and I don't have anyone's number to ask. So my mom decided for me that I should just call out.

Now here's where I might be TA (but I feel like what happened after could earn me back some points)

I was pissed off at the fact that she didn't even ask if I wanted to go or if I was ok with calling out or if I even COULD get someone to cover. She just automatically told me to call out, like I have to listen to her. (I'm over 18. I am an adult) I didn't appreciate that she just decided this for me like I was a child and told her so. This lead to a big fight where I cussed at her and called her a bitch and told her to go fuck herself (not my best moment) and told her to go to this stupid BBQ alone. (I genuinely meant that part about going alone- at least somebody should enjoy it. Also, she's my ride, so I was willing to be stranded with no way of getting anywhere if it would enable her to enjoy her party.)

After I calmed down, I told her I'd be willing to call out if she absolutely insisted. She said no, it was fine and I ended up going to work as usual.

Almost.

About an hour before my shift ends, she shows up AT MY JOB and tells me to ask my manager if I could leave.

No! It doesn't work that way! I work retail. As far as I know, no retail job will let you leave early unless it's an emergency. She worked retail, she knows the drill. So I tell her to think of a legitimate reason why I'd have to leave and I'd tell my lead that. (Luckily I had a lead I was pretty chill with that day and she was like why is your mom here? And when I explained the situation, she was like "yeah I don't really care if you leave, but I need you to make up a legitimate excuse for when [our boss] asks why you left.")

She couldn't think of a reason, and after humiliating me at my job, she left without me noticing and I finished my shift. (It was a very busy and stressful day, even without my mom pulling that shit)

She surprisingly picked me up when my shift was over and we went to the dinner and were able to make it in time and had a nice dinner, so all of her stunts were wholly unnecessary.

She had sent me several long and vicious texts while I was at work that I didn't see until much later in the night. I will quote some of the more vicious ones (text message will have 《》 around them my personal thoughts on the text will be after with *) omitting personal info:

《You are a 26 year old loser [my name] stuck at a dead-end job that you've been doing for almost 5 years. A little bit of a rush shouldn't phase you like it does and you should be able to ask to leave a few minutes early- why can't you?》

*Name-calling is unnecessary and rude. She is constantly putting me down and calling me a loser and insulting my job, like she doesn't also work retail. So it's no wonder why I hesitate to jeopardize my job to please her.

[Context- one of the reasons I couldn't leave, other than the fact that retail Doesn't Work That Way is that I had a huge rush of customers and had to straighten up my department that I was working alone. I was closing and it would be extremely obvious who had left the department a mess and I would get in trouble for it.]

《Who left you with that mess? I overheard them [my leads] talking and they didn't sound like they thought you were being left with anything. They thought you should've handled it and can't do your job if that was a problem.》

*This one really got me and I was VERY glad I didn't see this text while at work, because I probably would've had some kind of meltdown. I honestly do not know how long she's been doing this (probably my whole life) but recently I've been noticing that she keeps trying to plant seeds of doubt and paranoia in me. Mostly by telling me that people are talking about me behind my back and/or judging me. Or telling me that my friends don't actually like me. Another example that I caught recently was her telling me that when I go to retail stores as a customer, she notices other customers and the employees staring at me, judging my hair/outfit/whatever. I immediately thought this was total bullshit, but just in case I was wrong, I paid extra, EXTRA attention to everyone around me when I was out in public to see if anyone was pointing, whispering, looking at me, doing anything to suggest judgement and I honestly did not see a single person even glance at me. I have unnaturally colored hair, so I expected at least one glance, but I got nothing. Side note rant over.*

I'm not going to quote the last text, as it doesn't have any specific quotes that provide any context. She just demanded that if I am not out of work by 5:01 (exactly 1 minute after my shift ends) then she is leaving me stranded and that I need to get my friend to pick me up.

*which....I live in her car. If I hadn't been out on time, I would've been completely stranded at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, which as a female, is unbelievably dangerous. It is also incredibly rude to demand that my friend, who doesn't work with me and has his own life, should drop everything and come pick me up and....what? Take me where? I'd probably end up having to stay at his house, which is very rude to basically guilt him into letting me stay at his house for the night*

SO after the dinner, I read all these texts and I was furious and insisted that she apologize to me for 1. Causing a scene at my work 2. All of that nasty shit she said to me in the texts and 3. For blaming me for ruining her plans when even after I went to my shift, we were still able to go to the dinner, so all of the stunts she pulled were entirely unnecessary.

She literally laughed in my face and called me delusional (for...wanting a verbal apology....) and when I doubled down on demanding an apology, she called me a delusional cunt and I still have never received an apology to this day.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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chokchokk · 10 months

Text

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 | choi san x fem!reader

PART TWO of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser

"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: He usually doesn’t drink this much. No, maybe he does, but it definitely shouldn’t make San act like this.

It must be a trap, you think, but you’ve already fallen for him, so there’s nothing you can do except not getting your heart broken.

"As if you could care."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: smut, angst, fluff (if you squint)

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7.1k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): alcohol, san is drunk, reader doesn't fuck drunk people, lack of communication, non-penetrative sex, fingering, squirting, aftercare, showering, sleeping together (in a bed)

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: prologue + main part, finished

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: please know that i wrote this before ateez drank in their video so any sign of projection is like just ... bad luck LMAO but uhhhhhh yeah here's the start of the A N G S T of it all so enjoy lol !!! <33

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

unknown number: sannie i think i left my phone at your place

unknown number: oh wait

unknown number: yeah i’m an idiot

unknown number: how do i delete this message

unknown number: btw is my name still “unknown number”

unknown number: because you should really change that

“That’s our thing,” he laughs, “she’s smart and all, but every time we hook-up, it’s like, I’m seriously fucking her stupid.“

His roommate snickers and looks at the contact name.

“So, uh, what are you two?”

“Hm?”

“You guys have good chemistry! Or are you going to keep up with the whole “sex-buddies” schtick? She seems cool, why not give her a chance?“

“Nah.. You know I can’t get myself involved in that again, Seonghwa. My last relationship.. I get goosebumps just thinking about it, really. I think she wouldn’t even want that, too. It’s all just jokes and fun between us.”

“Really?“

He turns off his phone.

“Okay, only sometimes, I guess.” He smirks. “But I really like that about her, actually. She doesn’t do it as much now, but, uhm.. she compliments me a lot?”

“San, you’re so fucked up.”

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

“Hey, it’s me! Open the door~!", his voice rings and San should be very happy you’re still awake at 3 AM on a Sunday. “Let me in!”, he repeats and it’s not a loud, aggressive shout, but urgent enough to snap you out of your mindlessly scrolling-cycle on your phone and make you question whether you’ve heard correctly or are imagining things.

It’s a very bold move, really, thinking that your home is free for him to come at any given time, and if it wasn’t for the unnecessarily sweet drunken “pretty please?” that follows right after his demand, you would have gladly let him walk all the way to his own residency, but you’re weak, weak for him, so even though you do hesitate, the door is opened with almost no significant time having passed.

“Well, good morning,” you chuckle and watch the man lean against the frame with his head, his legs unable to hold the weight of his upper body. He’s wearing his usual fit of a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, but his blushed cheeks, the smell of sweet tangy fruits and other sour substances tells you more about his evening than you need to ask for. It’s also not helping that his lips look swollen, smudged with red lipstick that he definitely tried to get rid of with a lot of rubbing on the way here — San's had a long night and he's waiting for it to get longer.

“I can’t drive like this,” San explains and his eyes are barely opening while he tries to keep a serious tone as he speaks in short-cut sentences, “and you were nearby... so now I’m here.”

“Did I ask? Get in here, Sannie.”

You grab his arm, or at least try to get your hand around his thick bicep and drag him inside, the door closing with a thump. “Thank you~,” San giggles and it takes a lot to not make him stumble completely onto you, you managing to put him down on your couch with your whole body-power, his face immediately plunging into one of the pillows.

“Where’s your jacket?”, you ask, as you stare holes into his muscular back and broad shoulders.

“Didn’t wear one,” he lisps through the fabric and his voice is raspy.

“Dumbass."

Trying to help him, you decide you’re going to get him a cup of water, but before you can let loose of him and disappear into the kitchen, San grabs you by your hand, immediately crossing his fingers into yours.

“No, stay,” San begs with a soft-spoken voice, face still planted into the couch, and he doesn’t know what those words are doing to you. Yeah, you guys have been having one or two one-night-stands too many with the unspoken promise to plead no hard feelings, but it’s him. Catching feelings for San hasn’t been something you’ve deliberately made the attempt to avoid.

But maybe you would have, if you’d known how painful it was going to be.

“Your hands are so soft,” he daydreams, a melody accompanying his rambling, “so soft and warm, like- like everything about you. I was actually just thinking about that on the way here! I don’t know if you noticed, but I really like holding your hands. They fit so perfectly around everything, and really everything— it’s amazing, really, really… amazing.”

“Funny of you to say that,” you comment on his drunk sweet-talk with a tired— but still entertained— sigh and stand there, dumbfounded, his hand sweating into yours. Is this the same guy that told you that he was uneasy when someone (namely his girlfriend) held his hand?

“Why funny? It’s my truth! Your hands are one of your best assets, second to.. your lips, maybe?”

“How shameless!”

Of course he’s absolutely boozed right now, but it’s been well-established to you that San only wears his silly loveable himbo-mask only when he’s subconsciously benefitting from it. Once you two had met up enough to have gotten comfortable with each other, San’s “nerdy” personality had magically disappeared, leaving you with one confident, prude-ishly sex-seeking macho. The “Sannie” you were looking for has somehow vanished into small moments and yes, it’s not like you haven’t been the one trying to crack through his shy façade for your own enjoyment in the first place, but you do miss watching the cheeky guy push up his glasses during your studies, glancing over at you from time to time, blushing, when he catches you staring back.

“Shame finds no place between us, does it~?”

Yet, exam season is over, has been over for a longer time now, which only makes it more evident that San is trying to find excuses to come over for reasons that go below bonding emotionally by miles. Sure, the hook-ups have been fun, exhilaratingly so. He’s all yours, San says repeatedly, but once you’d realised that he was still casually seeing other people, and it was just a saying, but worse, had felt an aching sting inside your breast when you had done so, yeah, fuck, that has been the moment you’ve known that having sex with this man isn’t enough: You have fallen in love (or something similar) with San and a serious relationship is the seal to quench your thirst for his affection.

“I guess we’ve got rid of shame a long time ago, huh,” you answer non-chalantly.

His hands are soft too. His lips are like one addictive book you can’t help but stick your face into, breathe in the words they say, inhale the soothing scent and make it your perfume — you’re smitten for him. You can’t begin to fathom the dread you feel when something inside you ever-so enchantingly tickles when San giggles, acknowledging your ways: "That's who we are!"

He knows that it's not who you "are" as he sits there on your couch, fingers interlocking, it’s… well, who you had been.

Two people who didn't have to think before they said anything, be free with their thoughts in order to relieve them from the stress that came from maintaining concentration and quality. Have you been with him enough to say you miss the older San? The sweet, sometimes silly Sannie?

"You’re my stupid whore, don't you forget!”

No, time alone can’t tell that. But even the sweetest strawberries mold when they're not eaten and waiting is a tiring process.

“Yeah.”

For the short time you've known and yearned for San, he’s been in multiple committed relationships, which is one of the reasons why it has taken you two so long to finally fuck, and it hasn’t really bothered you while you hadn’t, since you couldn’t know what you were missing out on.

But now— though you’ve never seen him be with his girlfriends— you have gathered enough information to know that San’s got it in him. He doesn’t like talking about his endeavours and you could only get a little bit of small-talk with Seonghwa about it, yet from what you know now, your college “love”-experiences don’t come even one inch close to the romances he’s been in; you can’t help but find yourself fantasising about his sweet ways of loving.

You have had enough of half-assery, enough of hangovers, and the thing is, you desperately don’t want San to be your next failed situationship. Knowing that he is single, that right now, he is able to be taken— taken by you— but him still not being yours; it makes you question things you haven’t stopped to question about yourself when being with other people. Like, what do you have to do, what do you have to be in order for San to not visit some dumb party in the first place? He hasn’t visited as many parties when you were just “study-buddies”, why is he visiting them now?

It— whatever “it” is— has developed into something like a challenge, making San want you and only you. Turns out though, that stuff is more difficult than anything you've been doing for college. At least when you had to study, San wasn’t going around having fucking other women.

“Were you gonna leave me?”

Yes, of course you feel pathetic thinking about it like this; you know it’s all an error in communication in regards to your “friends with benefits”-lifestyle you and San are carrying out, but if it has gotten you two together the first time around, the manifestation must work the second time: That’s the only trust you have and it’s enough to keep you going and engage in San's unannounced rendezvous.

"No, you sound like you needed water, that’s all.”

For a while, San just breathes heavily into the pillow and you caress his finger. It does remind you a little bit of the movie-nights you've had with him in the past, when you tried to make your hands touch inside the popcorn like some lovesick child. Maybe it has never been about the sex.

His finger twitches as if he's already gone to slumber, but when you scuffle to get him a blanket at least, San yanks you back down.

“No! Noo, I need you, nothing else! Stay here, please,” he thrums, lurking from the pillow to wink at you, though before you can react to this sentence, San mutters, "I'm not going to fall asleep. I'm not tired, I'm just exhausted." That's the same thing, Sannie.

“Where were you, anyways?”, you ask and make yourself comfortable, San’s and your hands placed on the edge of the sofa, while his stomach lays flat over the whole surface, legs extended out.

“Where I was? Good question,” San lulls, laughing a little bit, "Seonghwa brought me as his plus one to one of his friend’s birthday party, that’s where I was!”

“Sounds nice,” you hum. “Didn’t know you were a cocktail-type of person, though.”

“Oh, do I smell?”

“Mhm—“

“But you’re right, actually, I’m not a long drink-drinker,” San falls in. Your eyes still being closed, you feel his soft, heated cheek against the surface of your hand, his swollen lips chafing subtly against your fingers. “But some girls came by with trays of self-made cocktails and… we couldn’t say no, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” you answer to just have answered something to fill in the silence. You can smell the saccarine scent in his T-shirt and you fear it's going to paint off from his saliva he's spreading onto your palm as San places kisses around your hand. "What do you think you're doing?", you ask sarcastically.

"Nothing?", San giggles, becoming a bit more eager with the smooches.

You've experienced him drunk a lot of times already, but usually he only drinks just up until the point where he can keep his “educated” tone to a perceivable level of sobriety. But as of right now, in contrast, he seems to be way loose, swimming somewhere in between of lust and senselessness, which irritates you more than it should.

That is another thing that has changed after a while you two had sex. You are perceiving him differently, more and more differently each time San exits through your door, leaving an emptiness inside you that another person can’t fill, by whatever measure possible. But apparently, the same doesn’t happen for him with you, and you have to convince yourself you can change that every single day.

“We should party together more often,” he inclines, “what do you like to drink?”

“Whatever’s available and does its job, I suppose.”

He giggles, gasping at your answer. “You don’t care about taste?”

“I mean, drink enough and everything is going to taste the same anyway, no?”

"Let's do it."

"Huh?"

"I'm in the mood right now~ Are you in the mood right now?"

You scoff and open your eyes, revealing a San piercing his sunken gaze through you, cupping his cheek with your hand surface like you’re a saint healing him, his nose glazed red, and his lips remain pinkishly stained — in the mood.

This is not Sannie, but your guts still churn in amazement at the sight. The fatigue is wearing off; the sight of the black-haired man caressing himself with you is... "appealing" to say the least. It looks like he’s devoting himself to you, but you’d be a lovelorn fool to think this to be true.

“Or am I too drunk?”, San asks, pouting. “I may sound like this, but I’m really not that drunk anymore, I swear!” He pushes his eyebrows down, seemingly trying to appear serious, but failing to do so.

“You don’t need to swear anything, San.”

Gritting your teeth, you try to maintain a smile towards the drunken man as benevolently as you can. Of course he came for only one thing and one thing only, regardless of how cute he's huffing against your words; here are you, thinking that San was trying to get you as his plus one just like Seonghwa did.

Fuck, he’s still so hot though, there is no way of denying that. The first attraction has never worn off and you’re still head over heels for this man who’s booping your nose tip with his finger on the hand that is intertwined with your own.

“So, what do you say, sweety?”

It only takes one look towards his private area to know that San’s pants are almost exploding from how hard he’s become, his bulge being a face-forward sign inquiring sex.

“San, you know I won’t. It didn’t work the last time, don’t recall?”, you whoop.

He tries to kiss you, but fails to do so, as San misses your lips by an inch and falls to the floor. Your hands finally separate and you rub the inner burning space between your fingers as you remind him of the time when he’d drunk-texted you a message asking for "a quickie". San had made no spelling mistakes, but it had been very clear he had went to a party and returned sexually unsatisfied.

“Yeah, but that was via SMS. Now I’m here, and like, I even found my way to you, and they lived— like three blocks away, so I'm able to orientate myself, see?”, San corrects you.

“Impressive, but it doesn't change anything.”

“Morals?”

“Yes, morals.”

"You know I want to fuck you," he mumbles sulkily. Shuffling around, San sits up straight and looks at you with a saddened expression, his eyes trying to focus on you as he continues to talk you over: “But if you’re also drunk, you would?”

“Don’t even start."

“Which means you would?”

“San.”

“Come on, I’m being— I’m really being serious this time!”

You chuckle and brush his messy hair to the back, approaching his face to a dangerous distance, San’s lips opened by a slit, heavy breathing leaving his mouth while he watches you, his lip corners slightly turned upwards. He’s panting, his penis must be fighting for its life right now, and you’re just petting his head.

“At least watch me do it, then."

“Watch you masturbate?”

“Yep!”, San nods and unbuckles his belt without hesitation. “I bet you’d enjoy that! You would enjoy it, wouldn't you?”

“Maybe. Only if you don’t hold back your moans.”

“Consider it done, baby!”

You let out a laugh and search for a better position for seating to apparently enjoy the view. The drunk man takes a while to get rid of his pants, his legs getting tangled up and all, but once he kneels there, in his underwear, it’s showtime.

Or at least something like showtime. He’s being way too interactive with it for you to just sit back and relax. Whining your name in a needy pitch, he starts to pump his hardened cock inside the boxers, leaving whatever is happening there up to your imagination like a suggestive soft-porn video. However, you’ve seen his penis enough to know what it looks like, so this task is not too difficult for you. You can draw a picture of his cock down to each vein in your mind and you catch yourself drooling a bit, when you see his glistening tip peak from his waistband. You have to keep yourself together.

While letting out low groans, rubbing the head of his erection and creating slick sounds, San searches for your vicinity: “You like what you’re seeing there~?”

“What are you, a camboy?”, you tease and inhale sharply, when San grabs the seam of his T-shirt and bites down on it, revealing all of his abdomen, whining through his teeth. He’s definitely seen the same things as you online and his abs look phenomenal. Those things aren’t necessarily connected, but it’s the two thoughts shooting through your head as he begins to move his lower body to pump himself through his hand, chasing his own high.

“I don’t know!”, he lies, “I just like pleasing you!”

San purrs, his pelvis moving in round circles to accentuate his V-line and muscles flexing and un-flexing as he does so— leaving you quite speechless.

“Ah, really?”, you pant, him answering a very well-behaved “yeah, really~” right after.

“What do you want me to call you when I cum? Mommy?”

“Oh my god, is alcohol bringing out the submissive side out of you?”, you try to defuse the tension (mostly to hold yourself back from going savage towards this man as you always do) and chortle.

“Hmm, I don’t know about submissive~,” San answers, the saliva from his mouth soaking his black shirt, “but I should get naked first, no?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Taken aback by how you're anticipating seeing San jack himself off, you turn a bit too honest too quick like an avid viewer.

He grins and pulls the remaining clothing over his head with both hands, and his tip is still squeezed between his pelvis and waistband. By now, you really want to lick up the precum that’s leaking out, but you try to take your role as the sober audience seriously.

“You know, at the party, there was a girl,” San narrates, throwing his shirt to the side and looking down at his naked torso, “she told me I had nice pecs, so I said thank you, as one should.”

As an attempt to not interfere his performance, you wordlessly follow San’s hand trailing down his chest area down to his pelvis.

“But then someone told me she was flirting,” he continues, theatrically gasping to re-enact the surprise he felt after his friend had lectured him, “oh my god! I didn’t know! So naturally, I made out with her.” Which explains the red-stained lips, okay. Where is this talk going?

“But, the funny thing is,” San laughs, continuously brushing over his skin to give himself goosebumps, finally taking off his boxer-shorts up to his knees, his fully-erect, hardened cock jumping out and slapping against his abdomen as he plays with it, “she was so distracted by them, we didn’t even have sex. Like, she was massaging them and nothing else!”

You gulp at the sight of San lick over his finger and spread the spit on his lip with an opened mouth, making him look very erotic and naughty. His masturbating doesn’t seem to be speeding up any time soon though, San’s little tale isn’t over yet.

“I mean, it didn’t get me frustrated,” San admits, “but it did make me realise that some people can be in it for different reasons~!” That’s where he’s going with it, huh?

Okay, maybe you aren’t being very truthful to yourself, if you think that you've succeeded in hiding your feelings from San.

Let it be the one instance when you told him you were currently only hooking up with him and nobody else, or the other, when you woke up earlier than him and Seonghwa was the one to make you breakfast, San hearing his roommate joke that he should “join you sometime” and you dismissed it by saying you prefer it “private” — San has been presented the picture numerous times now, the picture being you wanting more than this, more than playing around with each other.

Which makes it all worse.

“… And she was in it for my boobs!”, San giggles and you notice you haven’t been listening for some while, staring at his hand installed around his dick, pre-cum dripping onto your living room-floor.

“San, less talking, more making yourself come.”

“Heyy, where'd that come from?”, San wheezes and leans against the couch, propping himself up with one elbow, “I haven’t asked you yet, what you are in it for, my lo—“

“Stop, fucking hell, I wanted to see you cum! Do it, San. I thought you were going to give me a show, not tell me a bedtime-story.”

“Geez, I just wanted to ask you about your kinks~!” Of course.

Grinning, San pumps himself quicker, hissing and whimpering, enjoying having all your attention on him. And even though there's nothing you'd love to do more than sucking him off, you’re still keep your hands to yourself, massaging your own tits as somewhat an homage to his dubious anecdote, but also compensate the vibrating between your legs. You’ve gotten unbearably aroused.

“Shit, keep touching yourself like that,” San responds and hopefully he’s forgotten what he was asking for. Filled with a sudden rush, he sings: “Do you want to masturbate too? With me? Do that, it'll be so hot. I will watch you too! Please, touch yourself with me.”

Too irritated and horny to do anything else about it, you let your hand slide into your pyjamas, and you meet your wet pussy immediately. You drive your fingers over the slickness, silently exhaling.

“That’s so hot,” San admires you and his vocabulary seems to have minimized due to his drunkness. He intensifies his masturbation, the grip around himself becoming tighter, and as he begins to thrust his pelvis through the hole he’s created on his own with his balled fist, San hisses erotically. Still not in control of his body, his arm holding him up folds unintentionally. San trips, and you twitch out of worry which you quickly realise you shouldn’t have. It's just a short moment, dismissable at best and to he honest, San is the one who’s naked, but in this moment, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been. Fuck.

He doesn’t say anything, thankfully so, but as San moans and laughs simultaneously, almost with a mocking undertone, you don’t know whether the feeling inside your guts is your lust multiplying or your heart dropping. To get rid of bitter thoughts, you hope it’s the first and insert your fingers into yourself, trying to match the pace of San’s movement.

“You sure— that— you don’t need my help?”, San asks with not-so innocent intent, and his voice is strained from letting all the moans out as you told him to. “I really want to eat you out right now, there wasn’t anything to eat at the party… No food and too many cocktails~ Too many— oh, fuck…”

Becoming faster with his hands, it appears San is slowly approaching his orgasm, murmuring drunken words while you just started having fun with your own masturbation.

“Hold it,” you groan, trying to quicken up your pace.

“But,” San whines, working his ass front to back as he’s edged himself, “I even asked you, I— I can make you cum! I can make you cum without penetrating you, so please— just— let me cum! Didn’t you say you wanted to see me do that?”

“Changed my mind,” you say, scoffing at the whimpering man, sweat forming on his chest and dripping down his skin. “Now be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so.”

San is definitely exploring his submissive sides here, his brain almost doing a complete revamp when he hears himself be called "a good boy", a pant leaving his mouth, trying to follow your command. It’s like he’s become even more drunk, bathing in your praise when you hum: “Ohh, yes..”

Eyebrows pushed together, his dazy eyes disappear somewhere into the breaths of arousal in the thick air that’s been created between you two. San is crushed in between the pressure to perform well and his pure desire, the devilish voice inside his head whispering words of profanities to him. The blush accompanying the florid stains on his lip— San looks absolutely, endearingly fuckable.

“Oh my god," you gasp, hoarsely laughing at him, but mostly out of amazement, "you should see yourself right now."

"What? Do I look that good?", he snaps back, thrusting as fast as he tries to keep up with you, almost competing with the pace you're pleasuring yourself. Short of breath, San wheezes: "You sound so wet, and I bet that was all me, wasn't it? Because I look so good? I'm your type, aren't I? Nobody gets you like I do?"

"San—!”

Using your thumb to circle around your clitoris, you fall victim to San's provocative teasing that you’re not comprehending at all. All it takes is his sly, foxy side grin for you to understand that San is asking questions he knows the answers to, knows them a bit too well maybe, but he will not back down.

"Say it! You wouldn't have opened the door if I was someone else, would you?", he asks and you don't notice that he's leaning forward to you the more you fall back so you can reach your g-spot better. “Tell me, tell me what’s on your mind, you stopped doing that! Praise me more, aren’t I your hard-working camboy?”

"Don't act like you'd care!", it sizzles out of your mouth, a light-hearted chuckle following your answer as your finger slides over the spot that gets you moan the loudest, sparks of pleasure forming and exploding in your pants.

"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"

San is special, but so are you, and for the faint of your own feelings you won't allow this man to destroy your will just yet. You're already struggling to drive yourself to an orgasm all by yourself when San could do it so much better, but you can't afford a drunken confession (even if you're not even the one who's drunk) even for the sake of it.

"As if you could care," you joke with a wheeze and you catch yourself stopping to care about it. There is no inherent shame in liking San, but if there was, you aren't going to be embarrassed within the safe walls of your own home. You need the orgasm first.

"Well, yeah, I don't, but I'd still like to hear it out of your pretty mouth," San gutters huskily with the same grin, approaching you even more so you can see his abs tense up— thighs almost shaking from the withheld orgasm— up-front. “Take your clothes off.”

There's that again, this shift of power that San loves to abuse. Like a fucking metronome switching from one side to another, San changes up, which makes it impossible to get into his head. He's too smart to be sabotaged into submission, he must do it by himself. He's a wild animal that way, preying on you with hungry eyes, waiting for the moment you're too distracted to fight back. "Distracted" meaning wanting his cock in your cunt, that is.

Hurrying the hell up, you hastily pull off your pants and panties over your legs, revealing your pulsating, throbbing pussy that has been rubbed to a numbingly sensitive state.

"Yeah, I knew it, you're so fucking wet, shit, you’re leaking," San sighs in awe, gulping at the sight of your labia be moved around by your fingers, still wanking. "You should know that I’m so mad that I can’t bury my face between your thighs— you're so, fuck, you're so gorgeous, you should be the one who's the camgirl, shit.”

By now, your and his face are mere centimetres from each other, and there’s this heat that drives both of you, his lewd words melting against your skin.

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," you sneer, flattered by his empty-minded eulogy, "I'm not going to let you fuck me even if you're being nice."

"Can you even make yourself cum with your own fingers?", San hisses pettily, watching them go in and out of you, daring you to go deeper, "I bet it doesn't feel like I do!”

"It doesn't, thank you very much," you quarrel and throw your head back for a moment to moan, accepting his challenge of resisting his soliciting. He’s piercing through you with lusty eyes— glassy from the orgasm he's been fleeing from since the beginning of your dispute, almost crying from being restrained that much.

"Are you close?", he whines, getting a bit impatient. "Please be close."

What? Do you think I'll let you cum?

"I'm so close," you whine back, speedening your fingers inside you, trying to thunder them as forcefully as possible to simulate the thickness and vigour of San.

“Good, that’s so very good.”

Sighs and pants leave through San’s opened lips and he looks for greed inside your irises, as you watch his shaft shimmer under the night-lights, imagining it pulsing through you, all of its girth stretching you out in a way you can’t achieve with your fingers from this angle.

“San,” you whimper, feeling your climax approaching quickly.

“Hmnh?”, the addressed man reacts, and his voice is shivering, waiting for you to say the magic words.

“San,” you moan again.

Tell me that you want me. How bad you want me. That you want to be mine, that you want me to be yours. That you’re thinking of nobody else, that you’ll only think of—

“I’m here, baby,” San answers and swings one hand around your neck, closing the small distance by pulling you closer to him; your lips clash together and his tongue eagerly slicks against yours, him heavily breathing inside your mouth. His saliva tastes of a life on the other side of the globe and as he thrusts into his grip with an unbelievable velocity, orgasming with strings of cum landing on your pyjamas, you feel otherworldly.

But San won’t stop milking himself until you have come to exhaustion as well: When he sees you push your lower body up, San throws his unoccupied hand under yours to take over your onanism, burying his digits inside you immediately. Surprised by his sudden gesture, you back your head away from the kiss, your body spasming together because of the overwhelming pleasure.

“You know you need me, don’tcha?”, San beams.

This is wrong, this is all wrong, this is not how you planned this, you cry, but by itself, your hand rubs over your clitoris repeatedly and because San has become a master in knowing where, when and how to finger you, it is impossible to not cum with him and become a moaning mess under his touch. It’s whirring, it’s sparking, San is trying to send you over the edge of the world and you’ll risk everything for it.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whimper, feeling like you’re being intoxicated with the poisonous sucking at your neck and the stirring in your pussy; your body is being stimulated at so many points that it can’t catch up anymore. Not missing one beat, you scream out your orgasm, falling into the embrace of the muscular man who is barely any safety, his fingers not leaving your pussy.

“Be happy I’m not gonna shoot my second load into you, because your tiny pussy would feel so fucking perfect around my big cock right now and I could stretch it out so fucking nicely,” San growls intimidatingly, and you notice that his dick has become hard again right after his first orgasm, his stamina continuing to be one ridiculous weapon.

You moan, and apparently you’re not able to say anything except this, swinging your arms around his shoulders to not fall deeper into his fingers that are stirring your insides, “San!”

“What?”, he sneers and bites into your ear, “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“San, I—,” you start begging and reinforce the clasp to somehow make him slow down, tugging at his hair.

“Hmm? Yes? What are you? Coming? Being stupid for me again? Say it, say it for me, baby.”

“I, o- oh, stop, fuuck—!”, you whimper with the way he’s quaking you through and through, but your request gets lost in the sounds of your squirt meeting the floor. You see a lightning bolt strike in front of your eyes, your consciousness sent into the wide space of otherworldly dimensions: all you can hear his San’s stunned gasping once he realises what he’s achieved and him ejaculating the second time because of it, right on the spots he didn’t get the first time round.

“Holy fuck, mom~my,” he coos, finally letting you free, his own tension being relieved as well. San lets himself relax against the couch, taking you right with him on his bare, sweaty chest, your arms rested on his shoulders. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

You’re too busy catching your breath, the once-gone fatigue coming right back, hitting you like a wall. There’s nothing else on your mind rather than to cuddle into San’s arms and get some well-deserved sleep.

“Do you think you could do that on my dick?”, San asks and you can’t bear to answer. You’re lucky that his penis has gone limp, because you know that this man could continue for hours if he wanted to. “I think that just kicked all the booze out of me,” he pants and you know he’s lying by the way he’s continuing to lull. “I’ve made many girls squirt, but that was really something else. Maybe it’s because I never came with them. And I wasn’t even touching myself, can you believe that? You made me cum untouched, fuck…”

San has forgotten your first time.

And yeah, you want to blame it on the alcohol, you don’t know if he’s just mixing things up, whether his memories are hazy because of the months that have passed since the incident— but it’s the only way his surprised face makes sense. Of course people can forget and get confused, it’s just sex and fun after all, but it still feels… disappointing. Like the first time you found out he wasn’t all that “yours” after all, it’s not like he’s breaking any promise, rather than being a moment of “oh, but I thought— well, never-mind”.

“Hey, you can’t sleep now,” San reminds you, “you got my cum on your shirt.”

“I don’t care,” you mumble and rest your temple at his collarbone, stealing a glimpse of what appears to be San being on his phone that has been stashed inside his pants.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m gonna go,” San smiles.

“Go?”

“Not home! Did I scare you? You clutched me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You bite into his flesh to get him to shut up and he scrunches his nose.

“You make a very comfortable bed…”

“Yeah?” San puts away his phone and installs his arms around your waist, grabbing your ass in the process. “I’m glad.”

Ignoring that your naked privates are touching, you sigh into his skin. Because the taste has already entered your system, he doesn’t smell like alcohol anymore, he smells sugary sweet, the mild scent of his body leading you to further sleep. “Mhm, it’s the best,” you purr thoughtlessly, feeling safe in his hug.

“You’re only nice to me at times like this~,” San remarks with a pout and stands up with ease, carrying you to your bathroom. “You’re always so... gutsy when we have sex. Are you that dominant?”, he rambles silently, putting you down inside the space of the shower. While he talks, he does a little shimmy to instruct you to get your arms up. “You know I don’t mind, but I’m not lying when I ask you to call me stuff. Like nice stuff. Sexy nice stuff. Gets me on~”

“How are you still drunk?”, you ask, too exhausted to take your top off by yourself, letting San pull it off with his hands.

“Why?”, he asks sassily, throwing your shirt inside the clothing bin, quickly rushing to the living room and back to get his own clothing back, explaining: “It’s just something I noticed! Other girls don’t do it like you can! Like, calling me camboy was something, but then you were so mean with it—“

Returning back to the bathroom, he crosses his arms and leans against the shower door.

“If that’s too mean, you must really not like degradation,” you chuckle, sitting naked in front of him. “And you do dirty talk and call me whore.”

“You know that’s different!”, San argues, taking off his socks and grabbing the shower hose behind you. “I at least keep a balance with pet-names, don’t I, darling~?”

“Quite convincing,” you remark, barely perceiving the whole scene.

“Wait, can you—“

“Here you go.”

You stand up and walk back a step so San can have the same amount space inside the shower. You actually have never showered together before, so this one is a first, but who knows whether San is aware of this or not.

You don’t want to be too grim about it.

San turns on the water only to realise that it’s not going to get warm. “This is bad~!”, he pouts. “It’s too cold…”

“Maybe you’ll sober up with the shock?”

Getting some water in his hand, you fear he’s gonna splash it to you, but San only applies it to his arm which doesn’t even need the water by how sweaty it is.

“I dunno if I’ll get it on my hair, I just don’t wanna leave the alcohol stink over your bed~!”

… Sweet, angel boy. Don’t you be so nice to me. You’ll mistake it for something else, if he doesn’t stop.

“Hey, you good over there?”

“You,” you stammer, “you still have lipstick stains on your face.”

“What’s that mean, “still”? Did I come here with lipstick on my face?”

Okay, so maybe he hasn’t tried to get rid of them at all before he came in. Ouch? — Ugh, who cares, let’s get you to bed first. Over-thinking is for tomorrow, you’re fucked out of your mind and San will be tomorrow too, if the alcohol stays this long in his body.

A sigh which turns into a scoff leaves your mouth. “Yes, yes, you did.”

“Do you think it’ll leave a stain?”

“It should go away.”

“Help me~”

San lowers himself a little bit so you have better access to his flushed face and turns the pressure low so you can wet your hands with a little bit of water, before you carefully brush them over his lips which feel hot in the cold liquid.

“Thank you,” he whispers and you stare onto his soft lips as you answer, “no need to.”

“No, I should, like a nice ladies’ man is to do, right?”

San throws an award-winning, a bit loose-eyed smile at you and uncontrollably, you smile back at his dimples. It’s a heart-warming moment, though you fear the warmth is not going to last long. These lips aren’t yours, he’s proving to you that they’re not yours— shit, fuck, damn it— you will probably not get over this for the rest of the night, if you don’t change the topic soon.

“Yeah. You.. ladies’ man.”

“You said that!”

“I did?”

“Well, actually, I don’t know, I think it was “people-pleaser” or something, actually, but I like.. Well, I actually like both!”

“You like being called a ladies’ man and people-pleaser?”

Rubbing his lower lip with your thumb, you question San’s understanding of the words he apparently enjoys to be described as. What a San-thing to do, you smirk to yourself.

“Seonghwa agrees!”

“With what, that they’re good words?”

“No, he said that they describe me pretty well.”

“Ah.”

“Do you agree?”

You inhale sharply and bite your lip, meeting his sunken eyes, a bit droopy from the exhaustion finally hitting your black-haired apprentice as well.

“I,” you start to say, “I don’t know. When I said that, … I meant something else, I think.”

“You think so?”

You know so.

“Because it’s, hm, I don’t know. Nice, isn’t it? The thought of being wanted by two groups? The ladies~ The people~ I’m their man, I’m their pleaser, you know?”

“Yeah, you please ‘em very well. There you go. Praise. Are you happy?”

San nods enthusiastically and hugs you, forgetting that he has ice-cold water running inside his hand, getting your whole back stunned.

“SAN!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so—!” His eyes are big, but he’s laughing, he’s laughing very loudly, getting the shower off and hugging you again, leaving balmy kisses all over your face. “Sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, I’m unforgivable!”

Except maybe he is.

When San tugs you in, waiting until you don’t answer his late-night questions of “who invented the camera” and “who was the first live-streamer” to tell himself goodnight and fall asleep immediately, you feel at ease: Disregarding that it took alcohol, will again take alcohol to have moments like these, there’s hope that there is still a little bit of Sannie that you can salvage.

He may not be yours yet, and for what he ensues it will take a damned long time for him to be, but San is here, laying in bed with you, one hand extended out, perfectly formed for your hand to fit in it and oh, how fit in it does.

part three: “the red he leaves is different [i wish it was]”

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #choi san scenarios #choi san smut #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #haveyourwaywithwordsbemypeoplepleaser #chokkiwa

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