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holybibly · 5 months

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IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part I Part 2

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 6,6k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more.

A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself (BTW, which of my styles of my work do you love most? Answer in the comments, it will help me much). One of the things I have to learn is the writing of shorter chapters. This one was so long that I had to split it into two parts. The second part won't take too long either.I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me.

There will be an update in a separate post about the rest of the work. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide.

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling.

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before.

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside.

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds.

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left. "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom.

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you.

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome."

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you.

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amentomensmut · 5 months

Note

I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but

What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk

Plus One

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+

Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)

Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU. i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)

“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far.

“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now.

“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy.

You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation.

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip.

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry.

“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.

“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.

“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.

“You babysit Abby for a month,”

“Deal.”

“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.

“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.

“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.

You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.

“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.

“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.

—-----------------------------------------

“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.

“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married.

The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception.

You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar.

Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you.

“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand.

“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.

“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.

“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one.

“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.

“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.

You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.

“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.

“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike.

You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.

“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom.

It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him.

“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now.

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike.

“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.

“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..

“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small. “I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.

“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.

“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this.

He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.

“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot.

“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers.

“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand.

“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you.

He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.

“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm.

“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’.

“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.

“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.

“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.

After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper.

“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.

“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.

“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.

“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.

#smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #fnafmovie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

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verstappensseatcushion · 4 months

Text

✩°｡⋆ pas de deux, ln4 ⋆｡°✩pt 4

part one part two part three

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

[face claim: luna montana is largely used as faceclaim but some other pinterest girlies in there too]

summary: y/n is new to monaco and quickly finds herself dancing with mclaren driver lando norris despite all intentions she has of focusing on only her career

a/n: i did not proof read so im so sorry if there's spelling mistakes at all! hope everyone had a happy holiday

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

"i think some of the other drivers should be here soon," alex, charles girlfriend, says loudly over the music.

you've been out with charles and his friends for a few hours now, meeting for drinks at someone's yacht and now at a club that you can't remember the name of. alex has quickly become the person you're clinging to, as one of the only other girls out.

"oh! i didn't know anyone else was coming," you yell back. she shrugs and gets up to pull you along with her to the dancefloor.

when you return to the booth in the corner there are more guys at the table, all laughing to themselves as they take a round of shots. charles being the first to notice yours and alex's return goes to introduce you to the new arrivals.

"everyone this is y/n," his words slur together a bit, he then points to everyone, even the ones you've met already, and reintroduces them. "and lastly we have lando."

he looks familiar, and not just from seeing him on tv or in advertisements around monaco, but it's like you've met before.

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

it's been at least an hour, and a few more drinks, since the other drivers met you guys at the club. you, alex, lando, and charles are sitting in the booth after everyone else abandoned the group for dancing. you've been sitting quietly, giggling with alex, as charles and lando go back and forth telling stories about each other.

alex leans towards charles, whispering something into his ear. he nods and then announces that they're gonna leave soon.

"i should leave too, its getting late i think," looking at your phone you see it's nearly 2am. you go to crawl out of the booth and stumble a bit trying to gain your balance. a hand reaches and grabs your arm steadying you.

"is someone taking you home?" lando asks looking down at you, hand still on your arm.

"that's a bit forward isn't it?"

"wha-oh, not like that, i mean how are you getting home," he sighs, "you're clearly drunk y/n, and no one in their right mind would let you get home alone."

giggling you try to touch both your fingers to your nose (not entirely correctly but the thought was there), "see not drunk im fine! plus i dont live far im just going to walk back to my apartment,"

"let me walk you?" he asks, moving his hand to the small of your back as he guides you to the exit.

...

"and tulip fever is why I like tulips so much, it's honestly one of the best movies I've ever watched," it's been about 20 minutes of you blabbering non-stop, walking through the middle of the street as lando follows you, "oh my god I walked into you the other day that's where I know you from! je le savais! I was on my way to classes and completely walked into you, im so sorry by the way. I can be so out of it someti-"

"breathe," lando cuts you off laughing, "I don't think you've stopped talking once since we left."

you blush with embarrassment, "I'm so sor-"

"don't apologize it's cute, I like it," he cuts you off again, "do you know where you're going, or have you just been walking down random roads hoping your apartment appears?"

you point at the building on the corner, "it's this building! I know where I'm going!"

"are you sure? because this the second time we've been on this street."

"yes I'm sure," you laugh, swatting at his chest.

he follows you as you enter the door code and walk up the stairs to your apartment door, "you coming in?" you ask.

"not tonight, just making sure the pretty girl made it home safely," he smiles, giving a half wave as he goes back down the stairs.

"goodnight lando."

"goodnight y/n."

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet

liked by ybfusername, landonorris and 4,019 others.

y/n.ballet à propos de la nuit dernière 🌷

ybfusername you better be prepared to explain those flowers missy

username5 where's the dress from?? 😍

username2 gorgeous smile

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landonorris

liked by y/n.ballet, username3 and 320,872 others.

landonorris about last night 🕶

username1 that second pic omg

username3 DJ LANDOOOOO

view 4,274 other comments

#f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #instagram au #social media au #f1 #f1 smau #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 #ballet

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dogtoling · 2 months

Text

RE: Question about whether the Deepsea and the Octarian Domes are directly connected to each other. sorry i'm stealing your reply @bucketsquid but i see a chance to talk about this i have to take it. So idk let's try to decode how they might actually be connected.

This is the obvious conclusion. For the record I think it's the RIGHT conclusion after Side Order because they seemed to REALLY imply it this time. I thought for a really long time that the Deepsea and Octarian domes HAVE TO be connected because not only are they both subterranean but also literally how else do you get that many freaking Octolings in there? Since the metro is connected to the Inkopolis subway anyway wouldn't it be WAY EASIER TO JUST GET SQUIDS? (though to be honest i still stand by this.)

Anyway the obvious assumption is that the Deepsea and Octarian domes connect to each other. though it's not so straightforward. How they connect to each other exactly? we don't really know. Anyway let's get back into this in just a second i need to show what absolutely dashed my hopes and made me really mad when it happened

THIS MAP. THEY POSTED THIS MAP. Before this map I was having a great time because this is what the map was in my head:

"why was that the map in your head" idk. the giant stretches of water surrounding both canyons and inkopolis stretching into said body of water gave me the mental image that the canyons were in the ocean by inkopolis' coast. alongside some of the very old concept art that shows some of the domes even being underneath inkopolis if i'm not mistaken!

from the art of splatoon 1. this is an ancient and I MEAN ANCIENT manga depicting what is obviously an early concept of the story so it shouldn't ACTUALLY be taken as fact (almost nothing in this manga holds up anymore). But some of the things WERE kept! I have to assume this is also why you get into Octo Valley through the sewer in the games because the story mode was meant to take place literally straight underneath Inkopolis... it makes a lot less sense in the final result when you supposedly take the sewer like 50 kilometers (i dont know the actual distances but i think they're able to be deciphered) underground to a canyon in the middle of nowhere.

Why is there even continuous sewage all that way. What is happening. Is it even a sewer or a really long underground secret tunnel that Captain Cuttlefish dug because he's been really bored for 100 years.

kind of besides the point. back to the issue of the deepsea and the octarian empire being connected. You know, with the Deepsea Metro being located in Inkopolis Bay and the domes supposedly being all over the Inkopolis underground and the surrounding locations, it didn't seem that far fetched that they could siphon Octolings from the underground (where they live) to another very close-by fork of the underground (the Deepsea). However,

1. the Deepsea is NOT Octarian territory, but its own type of society. which is really weird considering how much Octarian iconography is down there, let alone how many OCTARIANS are down there

2. We have SO LITTLE knowledge about the true scope of the Deepsea that you can't even say for sure whether the Deepsea is *JUST* the Deepsea Metro and the facilities and industrial cities in that exact specific area, or if it's a big underwater and underground empire similar in scope to the Octarian domes, maybe even built in the exact same dome network - or a neighboring one. (This would mean they have a border somewhere undefined, underground.)

3. At face value with only the map, this is the distance for a Single Octarian to travel in order to get from where they live/are stationed, to get to the Deepsea Metro which is cluttered with one billion octarians

HELLO? THAT IS SO FAR. it's even worse than the distance Agents 3 and 4 are swimming through the god damn sewer. This also makes very little sense if we assume all the subterranean domes in all of these locations are exclusively under their surface counterparts... which... well, we don't know.

We know that the Deepsea Metro is connected to the Inkopolis Underground (it even shows this on the map with the little dotted line). I don't really know the significance of that but I've taken it to mean that the Deepsea Metro that is highlighted in the map shows specifically the area covered by the Kamabo Corporation and the tests there, and honestly again, I don't even know if the Deepsea is any bigger than that. Since it's been stated to be an independent society from Inkopolis or the Octarians, you would ASSUME there'd be ample space for people to like, live, and maybe work, and produce stuff you need to like, live. Instead of the test facility being literally the only place that exists plus a city built around only that to sustain everything.

Furthermore, we don't know if Octarians have cities on the surface in their part of the surface world! This is something that really bothers me because I think knowing whether or not this is the case would change SO MUCH (i'm currently under the assumption it is a barren wasteland with Literally Nothing). However given the location of the Salmonid Swim Zone, we can SEE cities in the background of multiple stages, and judging by this map those would be mainly on the Octarian coasts. This could mean that Octarians have surface cities where they coexist with the Salmon, it could mean that they USED TO have surface cities and abandoned them, OR it could mean that Salmonids actually live on Octarian surface turf while the Octarians themselves live underground! Idk! There's a lot of options!

I kind of doubt Octarians have cities on the surface because if they did, then it would feel redundant for the game to keep coming back to "the Octoling world" being this horrible military regime underground that people try to get to the surface from. If it was that easy to get to the surface it feels odd that it would be a big deal. We know that the Octarian domes, at least in Octo Valley, are specifically an underground *secret* military base.

(*Secret* being explicitly stated before and it would imply that they wouldn't necessarily NEED to live underground, but it's just way easier to do Secret Things underground. Plus the surface is a wasteland so honestly not a lot to lose there.)

We still haven't really seen what they have aside from that. We don't know where they get their food, for example. There's got to be farmers in a society. There HAS TO be some kind of surface access or activity, and if you squint, Octo Canyon IS a surface city that they seem to have free access to. So why not have others? It seems only logical to have more. In this case the oppression of the Octoling world and being forced to stay underground feels really case-specific, but it seems to also be an overarching thing that's quite widespread, so... I don't know, I WANT MORE OCTARIAN WORLDBUILDING *PLEASE* i'm working with crumbs here.

Anyway. my current assumption of the subterranean areas of the Deepsea and the Octarian empire goes something like this, all things considered that I've talked about...

(Not exactly that but you get the general picture)

When you put it this way, it suddenly makes a lot more sense that Octarians would be getting into the Deepsea. Generally I tried to keep the locations of Octarian tunnel systems to their turf, and the locations of Deepsea tunnels under the ocean floor, though with Octarian domes explicitly stated to have been dug by humans there's. really no reason they couldn't stretch into Inkling territory. We have no idea how big these tunnel systems are in scope, NO idea.

And that's also the problem with trying to solve this part of worldbuilding, because my concept could easily be right but it could also be COMPLETELY wrong! It's totally possible that the dome networks are actually secluded and tiny and are *just* under the Octarian craters and nowhere else, and it's totally possible that the entirety of the Deepsea is JUST Kamabo Co and the few settlements surrounding it. I'm not that confident that I'm right but I'm not really confident that we'll get answers to these questions either, at least as long as the story modes keep intentionally avoiding expanding on existing game locations and pretending theyre not in the splatoon world at all by making their key locations abstract and closed off bubbles on purpoCOUGH HACK who said that

There is 1 thing I've completely failed to mention in this post and it's that Octo Valley and the Deepsea Metro are like, explicitly connected. Which by the way makes NO SENSE given they're on opposite corners of the map. But between what we know from Side Order and from this Official Snippet from Splatoon Base, the Official Splatoon Story Resource By Nintendo,

Ignoring that none of this makes sense anymore or is intentionally misleading compared to what we know from Agent 8's memory loss now. Anyway. This seems to just imply the Deepsea is *under* Octo Valley. WHICH WOULD LINE UP WITH SIDE ORDER, weirdly enough. It is possible that the Deepsea domes could actually OVERLAP with Octarian Domes, it's just built FAR under sea level, not bound to the actual location of the sea itself.

I want to point out that this segment in the splatoon base and the game itself and dev interviews all tend to contradict each other in some ways when you look at them side by side, which is frustrating, but also serves as a reminder that sometimes the official resources don't know exactly what they're talking about either. so it's often not worthwhile looking them up and trying to conclude something based on it just to find out that it's literally contradicted in the game itself.

anyway, we know One Thing now and it's that there's at least no way that Octarian domes and the Deepsea AREN'T connected to each other in some way. this post doesn't exactly solve the issue of How but there was an attempt. I don't think this is ultimately something you can come to a concrete foolproof conclusion on until there is more information. But in the meantime I guess there's speculation.

#rambles #squidthoughts

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justporo · 2 months

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Hey you :D

Here’s a request just to add your huge list for after vacation muahaha 💖

How do you think a slow, bickering romance with Astarion (kinda like Howl and Sophie) would go down.

Hey darling ❤️ You might’ve forgotten about this ask but I have not! I'm combining this with another one asking about where Astarion rejected Tav at first but then slowly fell for them.

Also haven't done one of this headcanon posts for a whole haven't we? Here we go:

Headcanons about Astarion slowly but surely falling in love with you (and how he pursues you)

Oh, it's all just a game for him, isn't it? At least at first. But this silly little jester didn't realise he was playing himself.

He might have rejected you at first (because he's a prick who has looked at the sun a little too long, let's be honest) but he quickly realises he can't take his mind off of you

You keep stirring the vampire's undead little heart and it scares him at first - and of course you had given up on it after that first hurtful rejection

But his crimson eyes start to never stray far from you, no matter if in battle or at camp: he can't tear his gaze from you - gods dammit, you're lovely!

It's in the way you always put others first, always have a kind word to spare, always a warm smile. How you laugh and how brave you are, how you bite your lip when you're lost deep in thought.

Quite frankly: a stake to his heart couldn't have been more effective.

But he realises another thing: he wants to be real with you, he wants to fall slowly with you - not a vicious thunderstorm but a soft, warm summer rain

And so Astarion begins to yearn in silence as you too can't keep your thoughts from turning around him often

It's painfully obvious to everyone around you how much the two of you are in love with each other; so much so that bets are being made in camp if you're gonna make it before you all reach the Gate

You notice that Astarion keeps sneaking around you like an adoring cat would: always a playful quip on the tip of his sharp tongue that you never take serious because... this Astarion we're talking about. "Oh my heart, aren't you even more blinding than the sun today" "Look who's blessing us with their grace and insight." "A copper for the thoughts in your pretty little head, darling."

Astarion doesn't know how to live the teasing out of his tone, maybe out of fear you might actually start taking him seriously; but if you would peel back the generous layer of faked sarcasm you'd find he's actually being serious

This man is downright smitten by you and you don't realise it as he achingly yearns for you - so much the others can barely take it

Sometimes you find little gifts on your pillow when you wake up: a sweet treat, snuck away from the others, a single blossom, a mysterious line of poetry - you are at a loss at where this comes from or if someone is playing with you

Meanwhile Astarion swallows his pride to regularly go to Wyll and ask his advice who... does help him but not without a haughty grin whenever he sees the lovesick vampire stroll over in his seemingly hopeless endeavour

Meanwhile you keep doing your utmost best to be at Astarion's side because you truly only want to help him and be happy and safe

Again: have mercy with the poor tortured soul, sometimes Astarion almost feels like he could combust on the spot if you give him one of your adorable lopsided smiles

When Moonrise and unpleasant people happen something in Astarion breaks, it all bursts out of him at once, overpowering even his terrible fear of rejection

The hug and tender first kiss you share that night tears both if your walls down.

You have not defeated the big bad enemy but something in your heart lightens knowing you have someone who will travel the road to whatever end with you

From there on out the two of you become even more unbearable in your pining for each other - meanwhile not trivial amounts of gold are passed between the other companions with quite some grumbling - but be assured: all of your friends are rooting for the two of you.

There we go, I love idiots in love with each other, hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x you #poro headcanons #bg3 companions #astarion x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Text

Moon Blood

Astarion x gn/fem!Tav/Reader

(Basically anybody who experiences periods can read this I just don't know what to tag it as)

Tav is described as having irregular periods and a heavy flow, which I know doesn't really leave it open to everyone. But it's true to my experience, so I'm sure some other irregular-period people can also appreciate this

(Also it's just a really self-indulgent story I wrote for me lmao)

Warnings: blood, blood drinking, period fic, references to sex, swearing

Word Count: 1,210

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You roll over in your bedroll again, groaning as quietly as you could as you clutch at your abdomen. An aching pain roiled just below your belly. And there it seemed determined to stay for however long it deemed fit.

Your moon bloods were always a shock - you never knew when they would happen and you never knew how long they would last, because the gods seem to think it’s funny to make it so relentlessly inconsistent. Not to mention how heavy they could be. After everything you’ve faced on your perilous journey so far, this was the fucking worst.

The pain rises to a peak. All you can do is curl in on yourself, hugging your stomach as tight as possible to will the pain away. Does it help? No. But there’s nothing else that could… Well…

You feel like an idiot when you knock on the wooden post outside Astarion’s tent. You were pretty sure he already knew of your problem, if the restlessness whenever he was near was any indication. You couldn’t imagine the temptation, but you could admire his resolve. That wasn’t why you were here.

He calls a muffled ‘Come in’ and you push aside the canvas door. You see the change instantly. The way his eyes darken with the scent of blood, his smirk more predatory than usual. You begin to wonder if this was a bad idea.

“Hello, darling,” he purrs, low and seductive. His book is set aside in favor of standing to greet you in the small space. His hands slide around your waist, nails pressing lightly into your spine. He leans down, pressing his nose to your pulse as he whispers, “You smell delicious.”

You clear your throat. “As tempting as that is…” You step back slightly, and he doesn’t try to stop you. Instead, he pulls his face from your neck and rests his hands at your sides. One more step and he would let you go entirely. “I just want to cuddle.”

He huffs, face scrunching in annoyance. “You come in here with a banquet between your legs, and all you want is to cuddle?” The irritation can hardly be read as genuine when his thumbs begin to rub circles into your hips soothingly.

“Mhm. My cramps and back are killing me,” you explain. You gesture back outside the tent. “I could go ask Gale, if you think you’ll be too tempted.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he hisses, but it’s an empty threat.

He pulls you with him back to the pile of pillows he was lounging in before, sitting down and leaning comfortably against the pile. You stopped, standing just before him, even as he nudged your hip toward him, silently telling you he was ready for you to join him.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright with…” You don’t know how to phrase it in a way that doesn’t sound strange. But your need to make sure he is comfortable wins out above everything else. “With smelling the blood all night?”

His eyes soften as he smiles. The tinge of animalistic hunger still lingers behind it, but your dismissal of his preposition has pushed it toward the back, almost entirely hidden. “I’ll be alright. I’m not starved enough to lash out at any moment, I swear.”

You frown. “You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

He chuckles despite your scolding. “I know.” You give him a pointed look and he rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Yes, dear, I’ll be alright smelling your blood all night. Now are you going to stand there all night?”

Assured in his comfort, you finally lay down, draping yourself over him, legs slotting between each other and arms holding each other close, and your head resting on his chest. The first few times you cuddled like this, you were worried your weight would make him uncomfortable, or worse, remind him of his 200 years of abuse. But he insisted, when he didn’t want to be cradled to your chest, of course.

He rests a hand at your lower back and begins working his fingers into the aching muscles there. You sigh and relax further into him. He doesn’t need air, but his chest still rises and falls with slow breaths. It’s disconcerting without a heartbeat to accompany it, or it would be if it was anybody else. But it’s Astarion, and instead the sound of his breathing alone was soothing.

You rest there for a moment, eyes closed. The position you’ve taken eases some of the pain, hand-in-hand with Astarion’s nimble touch. For now, the pain is a little more bearable.

You lift your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, soft and at ease, eyes round with affection. “If you want to, you can eat,” you tell him. You jump to add, “From my neck.”

He chuckles. “Thank you for clarifying,” he teases.

“Well, like you said, I’m here with a banquet. I don’t want you to suffer just because I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m hardly suffering, dear,” he assures. “But I will take you up on your offer.”

You smile as you tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. He sits up, shifting you as he does until you’re eye-to-eye, before he buries his face against the nearly-faded marks he’s left. He continues to rub your back as he uses his free hand to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place and steady. He takes his time to press kisses all around his target. Your moon blood makes you taste sweeter; your skin smells so enticing. But he can savor it later.

You only get two warnings he’s about to bite: the hand holding your head tangles its fingers in your hair, holding you more firmly in place, though still being gentle about it; and the flat of his tongue running along the old punctures.

The sharp pain of ice in your veins never lasts. His mouth sucks and tongues at the punctures, drawing your blood out with practiced ease and drinking it down greedily. You close your eyes and relax into it. You trust him. And the odd feeling of your blood being pulled from your veins like liquid through a straw and the dizziness that accompanies it is much more bearable without vision.

Once he’s had his fill, he pulls his mouth off your neck and licks languidly at the last few drops until your blood clots. He slowly lowers himself back into the cushions, careful not to worsen your light-headedness with the motion. You rest your head back on his chest like a rag doll, limp and tired. He cards his fingers through your hair a few times before simply wrapping his arm around you. He mindlessly continues to rub circles into your back, keeping the pain at bay for you to sleep.

You try to speak through half-intelligible thoughts as exhaustion and comfort begins to claim you. Mostly ‘thank you’s, though a heavily slurred ‘I love you’ surfaces once or twice. He gently sushes you. And then you’re fast asleep, as if speaking was the only thing keeping you awake.

And in the morning, well, he’s more than happy to take care of you.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

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mochinomnoms · 2 months

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What would happen if both Yuu and Riddle “protect” eachother from their pseudo siblings potencial eel mate? Because we already see Riddle mother hening Yuu so if Yuu ever explicitly states how uncomfortable they feel around Jade I’m pretty sure Riddle would not hesitate helping Yuu getting out of situations with Jade or like being the third wheel in their project group (with Jade and Yev). And I feel that Yuu would feel the same if Riddle feels a similar way to Floyd cause personally if someone was making my presh baby sibling uncomfortable (or annoying them) I would not hesitate to put the fear of god into them/gremlin my way to cockblocking them.

But then again Jade and Floyd seem like they already made up their minds that Yuu/Riddle are already their mate, but how far will they go to go against their shrimp/goldfish in law?

I just feel like this has hijink potencial, like Jade would try to talk to Yuu and Riddle pops out of no where or Floyd tries to take Riddle away then Yuu comes sliding out of no where grabs Riddle then runs away (I personally headcannon that out of the sibling relationship that Yuu is just more of a gremlin than Riddle always having a bit of a clown flair to their actions whether it’s their intention or not (totally not projecting) while Riddle is like that reasonable older sibling where antics just happen around them)

Sorry for the long post this has just been rotting in my brain for a while. -🧀anon

BRO YES

I was intending on writing these sorts of interactions between them, but since I added the titles the flow of the story has changed a bit so I'm not sure if it will fit into the main fic.

But yes, once it's been established with the two that both of the twins are interested in them, and that they want to avoid them at all costs (no emotional health with these two lads), they are making a game plan.

Riddle is very prim and proper, so he's appalled at the thoughts Jade is having about Yuu (nevermind that these sorts of things are pretty normal for most people) and going out of his way to put space between the two. Jade comes up to whisper in their ear? Riddle is loudly asking, “Oh Jade, did you have something to say? Why don't you share it with me and Yev?” Lunchtime has been monopolized by Riddle and the rest of Heartslabyul, though some of the random students are confused as to why Riddle has insisted that they sit with Ramshackle.

Yuu on the other hand take it upon themselves to interrupt Floyd mid-chase with Riddle and asking him questions about Jade. Things they know he'll report back to Jade, but subtle enough that you couldn't take them at face value. “Hey Floyd! Question: what sort of things does Jade like? No reason, I'm just making sure I have gifts for your guys' birthday!” If Riddle is in at club practice? You're there and “talking” his ear off, interrupting Floyd's quips until he gets so frustrated that he leaves.

If they try to give either one of you gifts? “Oh, thank you, I think Riddle/Yuu will like this! I'll share it with him/them!”

Study dates? “Oh, let me join you too! Let's make it a group actually, I'll bring my dorm members.”

It becomes such a reoccurring thing, seeing Yuu and Riddle together, that rumors start going around that the two are actually dating. The twins are a mix of devastated, annoyed, and thrilled at the hilarity of it all.

Shrimpy doesn't want Floyd to mess with his Goldfiishie? Fine, let's have some fun, you said you wanted to go to the store? Let's go, and oh look there's Jade as well! Oh, and look at the time, Floyd has to go work his shift at the lounge (since when has he cared), have fun with your date with Jade! :D

Riddle is very protective of Jade's Pearl? That's fine, Yuu can stay with Yev then while he and Riddle go to the gardens to get some ingredients. And if Jade happens to disappear, Floyd in his place, well then it's just a coincidence! Jade just remembered that they also needed to buy some herbs from Sam's, he didn't mean to leave Riddle. :''''(

Morays may be cowards, but they're also opportunistic predators. They'll find ways to get around Riddle and Yuu's shenanigans. After all, if the two reeeally didn't feel the same way as them, they surely they would've said something to their respective eel. Maybe they like the attention~

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd x riddle #ptm #🧀 anon

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velvetures · 3 months

Note

Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should’ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #anon <3 #velvetures answers #anon answered #anon ask

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ddollfface · 2 months

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𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"Your clothes would look nice on my bedroom floor."

Trigger Warnings; not proofread, pretty sure reader is described as 'girlfriend' or 'girl' somewhere, yandere behavior, extremely toxic behavior, manipulation, rip if you know someone like this irl, abuse of systems, abuse of pretty privilege (can't relate lol), and, as usual, bad writing. If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Here 'ya go 💗!Nonny, the second part of your request!! I hope it's to your standards... I'm not proofreading anything I'm putting out rn. I'm way too tired. I hope everyone had a good President's weekend))

Our boy is literally the definition of pretty privilege. He's got everything a girl would ever want, and he's the envy of all the guys on campus. He's sculpted like a Greek god, thanks to his Persian genetics and daily visits to the gym.

Everyone and anyone will listen to what LoveSick!Athlete's gotta say, and they'll do whatever he's asked, if he's saying it in a certain tone with a certain face. This is his manipulative personality coming into play. He understands that people will listen to him, for whatever reason, and he uses it to his advantage, scaring away any guys you may or may not find attractive.

Usually, it's pretty easy to do as they're just one of your classmates that you just find handsome, but you've never thought of talking to them, much less pursuing them. You're introverted personality (in this type of darling) makes it easy for him to keep you all to himself.

The two of you have been together for years, ever since you were little kids, and you trust everything he says, but not for superficial reasons like everyone else. You see him for who he is. You understand that he'd never do anything to hurt you; I'm just looking out for you, yeah? Just take my word for it, he's not worth your time.

In this case, with this darling, the two of you aren't dating, in your eyes at least. And LoveSick!Athlete has been pursuing you for quite some time, but he's patient. The two of you are practically attached at the hip, and that alone scares off any of your suitors, so even if you find someone (guy or chick) attractive, then they're gone before you can even say 'hello'.

Now, I've gone over how LoveSick!Athlete deals with his 'competitors', though he doesn't see them as this, in this post. This post is more geared toward how he deals with jealousy, but I drabble on the idea of putting down other men and making you see them in a bad light.

LoveSick!Athlete don't see these men, no matter how you see them, as a threat to your relationship, nor his ego. The two of you are far too out of reach for them to touch; they can't get to you, but it's different when it's his teammate. Especially since he never shuts up about them, so they know that he's pursuing you or you're in a relationship (depending on the time).

Overall, I think LoveSick!Athlete would treat the situation similarly with his teammate as he would with some random guy, but he'll have a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he sees said teammate now. It's possible that he'll be rougher with them on the ice, pushing them harder, elbowing them, and tripping them. Of course, no one will notice. After all, he's their star player, he'd never do anything to hurt his teammates, never.

He'll bad mouth them, behind their back of course, to his other teammates and you, can't forget about you. He'll go on and on about all the things they've done over the summer while school was out. How they're so aggressive toward girls, especially the ones that say 'no' to him. You wouldn't believe what Sonia told me, sweets. She said...

Once you get him talking, he won't stop. LoveSick!Athlete would never, ever, miss the opportunity to trash on of his rivals. If the guy seems persistent and tries to talk to you, god, let alone he touches you, he'll rain hellfire on the campus. He'll get some college girls to go report him to the campus office, saying that they were assaulted by him. LoveSick!Athlete might even plant some drugs into the guy's bag, causing him to lose his athletic scholarship.

And if the guy tries to tell on him, like a rat, then he'll just be brushed off as "desperate" and "attention-seeking." That he's trying to push the blame on someone else, 'cause there's no way LoveSick!Athlete would ever do something like that.

He's the team's sweetheart, after all.

#lovesick #yandere oc x you #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x reader #yandere oc #obsessive love #yandere male #bad writing #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #💗!𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 #not proofread #nonny asks #i'm tired

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monster-slxt · 5 months

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Vampires you say? I happen to be a vampire connoisseur, some little things that have been on the brain lately - A vampire that can't stop themselves from sinking their fangs into your neck while they rail you into next week - Alternatively, a vampire who can stop themselves from biting you, they just don't. They whisper "hold still" in your ear and then bite you as hard as they can - Being a free use fuck toy/bloodbag for a covenant of vampires. They of course have to be careful not to drain you too much before your body has time to replace its blood volume, but they drink form you till your weak and unable to struggle, and then they spend all night using you like a fleshlight. They are creatures of the night afterall, they sleep all day and then have plenty of energy to use up at night. - Being a servant sent as a sacrifice to a vampire ruler, you presume you are meant to be a meal but instead they stuff your holes full of cum and you're made to join the group of other 'sacrifices' all of which are also filled to the brim

God these are all so good. Let's see if I can't combine them into something fun<3

"Really, they'll make a wonderful... servant! Very healthy, this one." It was all I could do not to shudder at my soon to be ex-employers words, offering me up as a lamb to the slaughter. The man, mysterious with sharp eyes, carefully took me in but said nothing. Instinctively I knew he wanted to watch my boss squirm.

Everyone knew the truth. Our town was practically run by a group of vampires. No one ever said it outright, but we all knew. You kept your head down, didn't get close to new comers who wouldn't last long, and everything was fine.

But everything was not fine. My boss had gotten himself into a spot of trouble. He never told me the details but it must be pretty fucking bad if he's desperate enough to offer me up on a silver platter. To call attention to himself.

"I think you might just have a deal." The monster, the head vampire if the whispers were correct, finally spoke up, "get out of my sight. You, come with me."

And just like that, i belonged to the vampire coven.

The first night had been utterly terrifying. Instead of being ripped into like I expected, the leader showed me around their manor and introduced me to the coven. Of course they fed from me that first night, but nothing more. Four mouthes latching onto me, sharp fangs piercing deep into my neck. Something about their bites left me uncomfortably warm and light headed, and I'm quickly shown to a room to recover.

Over the next few weeks my postion as blood bag is made painfully clear. All four of them are nipping at me every chance they get, and getting progressively handsier as time goes on. I get to learn their personality and preferences through these feedings.

The youngest is wild and impulsive- biting deep and harsh and almost having to be pried off of me by the others, lost in their hunger. They're the most handsy too, ice cold fingers slipping under my clothes feel far too good in my loopy post-feeding state. Another realm they need to be reigned in, no matter how hot and bothered feeding the vampires, the leader never allows anything further than heavy petting. It's honestly starting to drive me a bit insane.

The sweetest vampire has platinum blonde hair and likes to coddle me, cooing about how sweet I am and petting me while drinking my blood. They always make sure I end up somewhere soft and comfortable in the end. I think they must be getting off on taking care of me when blood loss makes me dizzy and frail.

It's still preferable to the second in command. They're outright cruel. Biting the deepest, holding me down and mocking my inability to fight back against supernatural strength. They like the hunt, following me in the shadows only to pounce when i least expect it- leaving me jumpy and paranoid.

I still don't know if I prefer them to the leader though. The leader treats me like food, nothing more. Just a pretty thing to sit on his lap and quench his thirst. He hasn't said a word to me since that first horrible night.

And so here I am, sitting on his lap as the others watch him feed from me. It's clear whatever aphrodisiac properties vampire venom have are getting to me- im hot and barely suppressing the urge to moan and grind against his thigh.

"Look, it's broken in enough isn't it? Poor things desperate." The leader detaches from my neck at that, cold eyes taking in my desperate form.

"You know, I think you're right." He says, leaning in close and nipping my ear. "I think it's finally time we showed our new pet some proper hospitality."

In an instant the others closed in, their freezing hands roaming every inch of my body. The chill felt heavenly against the heat of my own body. I was too lost in blood loss and vampire venom to have any idea what was happening, not that it would have mattered against the four of them.

#asks #monsterfucking #monster smut #dubcon #vampire #god i hope this is good its Very Late #and im Very Tired

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toomuchracket · 6 months

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candlelight (d word matty x reader smut)

the 24th day of promptober, basically an excuse to write the long-awaited first time fic. it's over five thousand words long - reader, i am EXHAUSTED. i really hope you enjoy it <3

you had your suspicions that this might be true long before you even knew him, but now you can actually confirm it: matty healy is a fucking excellent boyfriend.

boyfriend. as in, your boyfriend. yours. it still hasn't sunk in yet.

regardless, as mentioned, he's very adept in the role. so adept, in fact, that listing the qualities he's displayed and things he did for you today would be akin to reading out the lyrics of a post-disney pop song.

you'll do it anyway. matty drove into central london at rush hour on a friday to pick you up from work and drive you back to your flat, rather than let you get the train home and meet you there later, simply because he wanted to spend more time with you. during said drive home, he stopped at mcdonald's when you offhandedly mentioned you were hungry, then coaxed you into m&s to buy you a bottle of wine and some flowers, as a means of cheering you up after you said your day had been stressful.

said stressful day also led to right now, an act more hbo than disney, but still on the "excellent boyfriend matty" vibe. you're snuggled up on the sofa with your back against matty's chest, the west wing muted and all but forgotten on the tv. his lips are on your temple, his left arm is slung cosily over your waist, and his right hand is down your jeans; more specifically (and importantly), his fingers have slipped under the band of your panties, and are currently working diligently to get you off.

and they're successful - he's successful, cooing rhetorical questions like "that feel good, sweet girl?" and "you needed this, didn't you, darling? needed something to get all the tension out of that beautiful body of yours?". you'd answer if you could, blush at his compliments and pet names if you could, but your brain is so hazy from pleasure that all it can manage to make you do is tilt your head towards matty and smile tiredly in between moans.

he likes that, though; you get a beaming smile in return, and his free hand comes up to tenderly cup your jaw. it's quite incongruous with the way his other is finger-fucking you (there's really no alternative word for it), but you think it's just so matty, simultaneously a sweet little cupcake and the personification of sex itself.

a particularly skillful hooking of his fingers hits an area inside you that you weren't sure existed. eyes still locked on matty's, your jaw drops with a stuttered whimper, and his copies it, accompanied by a moan of his own. "god, you're so fucking responsive. i'm obsessed with it. obsessed with you, gorgeous."

you giggle, half from matty's words, half from the ecstatic delirium his fingers are inducing in you. matty smiles again, leaning down to kiss you; you kiss him back eagerly, mouth opening with a sigh as soon as your lips meet. your boyfriend lightly traces yours with his tongue, slipping it into your mouth as his fingers speed up - impossible, you'd have thought - in your cunt.

the familiar feeling begins to build in the pit of your stomach, pulling every muscle in your body into tension as it grows. every muscle except for those in your throat, you suppose - you whine and moan into matty's mouth, a symphony composed by and performed just for him, one he groans in harmony with as he feels you clench around his fingers. he doesn't stop moving them at all, though, he keeps thrusting and hooking and hitting that one spot and you feel so fucking good you think you might break apart. which is ironic, really, given how your imminent orgasm has tightened your muscles so much that you're shaking uncontrollably.

then again, something that both you and matty know all too well is that there's only so far you can tighten a guitar string before it just… snaps. another thing both you and matty know all too well? you're about to do the same.

he pulls back from the kiss just far enough that he can be understood when he talks. "i know you're close, darling. whenever you're ready, i want you to cum for me. you can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart?"

"mhmm," you somehow manage to moan out.

matty smiles. "good girl."

yeah, that'll do it.

with a garbled cry, you cum, the build up of pleasure in your stomach shattering and careening through your veins. eyes closed, you're vaguely aware of your limbs moving of their own accord, but the only thing you can truly feel are matty's hands on your jaw and slowly circling your clit through orgasm, respectively. somewhere below the heartbeat thumping loudly in your eardrums, you hear him moan soft praises. "that's it, that's my girl. shit, you look so beautiful when you cum, fucking love it. love making you feel good, s'my favourite, you're my favourite."

as the haze of pleasure leaves your brain somewhat, you blink back to reality and find matty looking at you adoringly. your cheeks grow warm under his gaze, and you smile shyly. "hi, baby."

"hi," matty blushes at the pet name - he always does, and you're obsessed with it. "was that good, sweetheart?"

"calling what you just did to me 'good' is such an understatement, it's almost offensive."

he laughs, sliding his hand out from your jeans and into his mouth. your jaw drops as he sucks your wetness from his own fingers, and practically hits the floor when he keeps speaking. "the same could be said for saying you taste 'nice', actually."

"jesus christ," you shake your head, leaning over to kiss your boyfriend. it's a soft kiss, but being able to taste yourself on his lips drives you a tiny bit insane - well, more than you already are when it comes to matty. "right - my turn to make you feel good."

matty sighs, stroking your hair. "baby, you need to stop thinking like that."

your brow furrows in genuine confusion. "like what?"

"like… that pleasure has to be something, i don't know, transactional? i know these stupid boys you've fucked in the past have probably made you think that was the done thing - i mean, god knows i used to think that," matty shudders, genuinely shudders at the memory, and you smile. "but we don't have to even the score, so to speak, every time we get together. you needed to feel good, and i wanted to make you feel good, and i did. you don't have to give me an orgasm just because i gave you one, sweetheart. you know what i mean?"

you do know what he means, and you genuinely appreciate the honesty and sweetness of the statement, but… you also just really, really want to make him cum. stubborn, obstinate little shit that your boyfriend is, though, you know he won't let you get him off right now, just to prove his point.

although, you wonder… does that extend to something that would get you both off at the same time?

matty raises an eyebrow when you ask him as much. "no offence, but do you have the energy to sixty-nine right now, babe?"

"no, i don't," you reply, moving to properly straddle his lap and clasp your hands behind his neck; matty's hands move to your waist almost automatically. "but that's actually not what i was referring to, baby."

his eyes widen. "oh. you want us to…?" matty clears his throat - he tries to keep his face composed, but you don't miss the way the corners of his pretty lips turn upwards in excitement. "sorry, sweetheart, let me start again: are you asking me to have sex with you for the first time in our relationship?"

"yes, matty," you don't even try to keep the grin from your face. "i'm asking you to have sex with me for the first time in our relationship. today. right now, actually, if you want."

"do you want, though?" matty asks, rubbing slow circles into your hips. "you aren't just asking me because you think i want to? i mean, i do, i really, really do, darling, but only if it's what you want."

you weave your hands into his hair. "can i tell you a secret?"

"of course, sweetheart."

smiling, you lean right in to whisper in matty's ear. "i've been getting off to the thought of you fucking me for months. and i respected your decision not to sleep with me until we were an official couple, but i don't think i can go any longer without knowing what you feel like inside me."

"fuck, sweetheart, me too," matty groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. he kisses you, long and slow and deep and passionate, and murmurs against your lips. "alright. let's have sex. but first, i kind of want to see how you got off to the thought of us."

"oh, that's easy. the first time was like this," you begin grinding your hips down onto his, a flush of arousal passing over you as you feel matty get hard(er) underneath you. "on my pillow, after the first awards ceremony we both went to."

matty actually has to bury his face in his hands. "jesus fucking christ, woman," he inhales sharply as he looks back up, eyes jet black with desire. "i got off to the same thought that night, too. but i'd rather fuck you than my hand in demonstration, right now, sweetheart, if you wouldn't mind."

"i'd rather that too, baby," you kiss him. "show me another time, though, yeah?"

your boyfriend kisses you in return. "whatever my girl wants. and now," he hooks his hands under your bum and stands, smiling when you shriek at the sudden movement. "let me take you to bed."

you've never been so happy to live in a single-storey flat in your life - it takes less than a minute for matty to carry you to your bedroom and lay you down carefully on your bed. you lean up to kiss him, pouting when he merely pecks you and climbs off the mattress. "baby, what are you doing?"

matty pulls his lighter from his pocket and waves it at you. "this."

"arson?"

"no, silly girl," he rolls his eyes. "i'm setting the mood. might as well make use of the excessive amount of candles you've got in here, yeah?"

with that, he dots around the room, lighting the tealights you've placed on almost every suitable surface. he stops when he reaches the bedside table, looking wide-eyed at you. "this is one of your fancy space nk ones, isn't it?"

"yeah. diptyque. same scent as my perfume."

matty tentatively lifts the lid off and sniffs. "my favourite smell in the world," he grins, and you blush. "but this candle is brand new."

"it is."

"so…" matty chews his lip.

you raise a brow. "so?"

he looks at you almost nervously. "am i allowed to light it?"

"hmmm," you roll onto your side to face your boyfriend. "i mean, i was going to save it for a special occasion. but i guess this'll do."

you're teasing. matty knows this, and he raises his eyebrows dramatically. "oh, 'this'll do', will it, miss? you really do know how to make a man feel special."

you shrug. "i know, i'm the sweetest girl in the world," you sit up, laughing. "i'm kidding, baby. about me and the special occasion thing. go ahead. light it up."

matty does as you ask, then gently climbs on top of you and kisses your head. in the glow of the flickering flames around the room, he looks even more gorgeous than usual, those beautiful eyes warmer than you've ever seen them. "nah, you really are the sweetest girl in the world."

"only for you."

"my sweet girl," he kisses all over your face. "my sweet, beautiful girl. can i undress you, darling?"

you nod, shyly. "just to say, i would've worn nicer underwear if i knew this was going to happen. i mean, it's a nice set i've got on, because i thought i should make an effort for you coming over tonight, but you've seen it before, you know? should've bought something new, been all extra pretty for you. m'sor-"

"don't you dare say sorry, sweetheart. don't apologise to me, especially not about underwear, jesus christ," matty cuts off your nervous - because suddenly, you're actually a little bit nervous - babbling, stroking your cheek. "you'd be gorgeous in anything. and the fact i get to see you in your underwear at all is a privilege. and a turn-on. a massive, massive turn-on."

"really?"

"if it wasn't so crass, i would literally put your hand on my dick right now to feel how hard it is at the thought of you in lingerie."

you laugh. "when has being crass ever stopped you from doing anything?"

matty huffs out a laugh, and his eyes crinkle into that smile of his you absolutely love, the one that means he's truly, truly happy. "just don't want to be anything other than perfect for you right now, darling. this means a lot to me."

"same here," you comb through his curls with your fingers. "s'been a while since i've done this. i'm glad it's you i'm doing it with now."

"thank you for letting me, sweetheart," he kisses your nose. "we'll go at whatever pace you like, yeah? you call the shots."

you nod. "thank you. i'm happy for you to take my clothes off, now."

"alright, baby, let me just get my shirt off so you don't feel too exposed."

"can i do it?"

matty smiles. "of course."

he sits back on his knees, and you lean up to catch his lips in a kiss as your hands find the buttons on his flannel. it deepens with every one you undo; by the time you slide it down his shoulders, you're practically devouring each other.

god. why were you ever nervous? the way he kisses you… of course he wants you, and wants you to feel good. matty's desire is undeniable, and so is his affection. you hope that comes across on your behalf too.

judging by matty's reaction - a whine of "fuck, babe" and an impatient tug at the hem of your top - it does. you smile into the kiss, before you pull away and raise your arms and let your boyfriend do what you know he's been secretly longing to do for ages.

the black fabric of your top hits the floor, and so does matty's jaw. his eyes trail up and down your torso, slowly taking in the way the dark blue lace looks against your soft skin; he looks at you for so long that you genuinely can't deal with it, busying yourself with moving to unfasten his jeans.

matty catches your hands in his own before you properly can, though. "hey, sweetheart, look at me for a second, please."

you reluctantly do as asked, biting your lip and praying to any and all deities that it comes across as sexy instead of bashful. your boyfriend's eyes are soft when you meet them with your own, and he smiles that incredible smile again. "you, my girl, are fucking beautiful," he says, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he means every word. "like, i can't actually comprehend it. nor can i comprehend what the utter fuck a gorgeous young thing like you is doing with me, but i'd be an idiot if i didn't just shut up and enjoy it."

"matty healy, that might honestly be the most absurd thing you've ever said," you reply. "look at you, for fuck's sake - i am punching so far above my weight with you."

"good joke, babe."

"i'm serious!"

"you're delusional, sweetheart," matty giggles, ever so lightly kissing down your chest and stomach as he undoes your jeans. you wriggle around so he can slide them off, exposing your (pretty fucking wet) brazilian-style panties. "like fucking hell. you're perfect. but you're also delusional, if you think i'm not the one punching here."

"well, either way," you take matty's hand and cup it over your core so he can feel how wet you are. "you're the one turning me on."

your boyfriend's breath is shaky when he exhales, uttering an "oh fuck" through it. "you know, baby," he says, mouth centimetres from your own. "i've never been harder in my life than i am at this moment."

"oh?" you smirk, pride turning you bolder than you expected. "i think we should do something about that, then," you tap matty's shoulder so he moves back, then you crawl forward and finally properly undo his jeans. your whole back is open to matty, and you press a kiss to his hip tattoo and speak softly. "baby, this is the part where you take my bra off."

matty's hands are on your spine so quickly it's almost funny. "sit up, sweetheart."

you oblige, shuffling back into a sitting position and sliding your bra straps down your arms as matty kicks his jeans off. and that's it. there you are. both as half-naked and turned on as each other.

for a moment, all you do is stare at each other. you have no idea how long for - time is a foreign concept, as is everything else other than the man sitting in front of you, lean and beautiful and clearly aching with want. whether it's a trick of the candlelight, you're unsure, but there's barely any trace of brown left in matty's eyes; he's nothing short of desperate. desperate for you.

you don't think you're faring any better. your legs are so incapable of closing that they might as well be made of magnets, and there's a burning in your cheeks that you know fine well isn't because of the open flames in the room. it's undeniable - you have never wanted someone so much in your life.

surprisingly, it's you who makes the first move, lying down and fanning your hair out on the pillow. once you're comfy, angled right and legs spread, you beckon matty over with a manicured finger. gaze never breaking from yours, he crawls towards you, lithe and hard and hot as fuck, placing his hands on either side of your head and hovering over you.

a moment of nothing, and then you're kissing. unlike your other kisses with matty, this one is almost completely devoid of sweetness; it's almost feral, animalistic, fuelled on nothing more than sheer fucking lust. his hips roll into yours, a topsy-turvy version of the way you grinded on him earlier, and the association with your dirty dreams about your boyfriend pushes you over the edge of desire.

"please, baby, i need you inside me," you whimper into matty. "there are condoms in the table to your left. just please, please fuck me now. need you, please, matty."

it's truly a sign of how turned on matty is that he doesn't take the piss out of you for having condoms on hand. instead, he moves his lips to your neck and flails blindly in your bedside drawer (thankfully, on the opposite side of the bed from your fancy candle) until he finds one.

as he shifts to take his boxers off, matty's lips briefly return to yours, then he speaks. "do you want to put it on me, darling?"

"no, thank you," you shake your head, grinning. "i like watching you touch yourself too much for that."

a breathy laugh, then matty tears the packet open with his teeth - a wave of arousal crashes against your underwear. "eyes on me, then, my girl."

like you'd ever want to look at anything else.

you do as requested, though, teeth sinking into your bottom lip of their own accord as you watch your boyfriend roll the condom onto his dick. once he's satisfied with it, matty leans back over you, smiling, and kisses your nose. "how you feeling, sweetheart?"

"perfect."

"fuck yeah you are," matty kisses you, a short, sweet, affectionate brush of the lips. "would you like to keep going?"

you nod enthusiastically. "please."

"like this? or do you want us to switch position?"

"this works for me," you caress your boyfriend's sharp jaw. "means i get to see that pretty face of yours."

"oh, she's cute," matty giggles. "alright, baby. can i fuck you now, finally, as we've both so badly wanted for so long?"

"yes," comes your breathy reply. you lift your hips, and then your legs, so matty can slide your last remaining clothing off, and that's it. the two of you, bare.

matty shuffles forward, properly leaning over you. despite the position and predicament you're in, his eyes are soft and so is his voice. "remember, sweetheart, you're in charge - anything you say goes. gonna slip inside you now, if that's alright?"

"please."

your boyfriend slides his dick up and down your folds to gather your (plentiful) wetness, smiling at the moan you let out when he brushes your clit. "whatever my sweet girl wants."

with that… he slowly, so slowly that you're amazed by his restraint, pushes into you. holy fuck. your eyes lock onto matty's, both your mouths widening in pleasure the deeper he gets; when he bottoms out completely, yours widens in the opposite direction, into an excited smile.

matty smiles too, blinking slowly to compose himself. "shit, baby," he breathes, face so close to yours that your noses brush against each other. "you're so fucking tight."

"i think you're just big," you reply, just as breathily. "feel so fucking good inside me, matty. better than i dreamed."

"yeah? same here," matty kisses you, far more sweetly than you would necessarily have expected from a man quite literally balls deep inside your cunt. you moan when his lips touch yours, clenching involuntarily; your boyfriend all but whimpers at the sensation. "christ. can i move yet, sweetheart? might explode if you keep squeezing me like that. but i'll endure it as long as you need me to. fuck, i'd do anything for you."

his babbling makes your ego skyrocket - all you've done is let matty put his dick inside you and clench around it once, and this is his reaction? damn. you almost worry how he'll respond to actually fucking you.

but you can't fucking wait to find out.

"yeah, baby," you run your thumb over matty's lips, rosy-red and kiss-bitten. ""you can fuck me now."

he sucks your thumb into his mouth and winks, making you giggle. "thank you, sweet girl. hold on to me, yeah? wanna be close to you."

biting back the urge to be sarcastic and point out to matty that he's literally inside you, you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. matty smiles. "good girl."

your eyelids flutter, partially from the praise, but mostly from the way matty slowly slides almost completely out of you and then thrusts - still gently, but with a little bit of force behind it - back in. "oh. do that again, please."

"was planning on it, sweet girl," matty grins; his smile drops into an almost disbelieving expression as he thrusts into you again. "christ, you feel so fucking good around me. could stay in you forever."

you moan, throwing your head back - matty takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck and trail kisses down to your chest. when he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, you whine. "you can go a little bit faster, baby. please, please go faster, fuck me properly."

"fuck," matty moves his head so he can look you in the eye. "you're sure? i can stay at this pace for a bit, i don't mind."

he's so sweet your heart aches. but you really don't want him to be sweet, not right now.

you shake your head. "faster, harder, please. i can take it. can take you. don't you want to see me take you like a good girl?"

"shit, sweetheart," matty groans, burying his head in your neck. "alright. hold tight."

his hips all but slam into yours, over and over and over and over; the sound, a mixture of your overwhelming arousal and skin meeting skin, is obscene. it's the best thing you've ever heard.

well, that's not strictly true - the way your boyfriend whimpers your name into your lips, your neck, your chest is pretty fucking sexy too. matty can't seem to pick a place on your body to settle his mouth on, as if the pleasure shocks him into moving it every time he slips back inside your cunt. you know how he feels; another jolt of something electric fires through your nervous system every time he does, clenching your muscles, triggering your moans, wiping all thoughts out of your mind other than him.

something else sparks in you, too: realisation. for the first time in your life, you finally truly understand what everyone's on about.

this is sex.

deliriously, you giggle. matty looks at you, tenderness obvious in his eyes despite the low light. "you good, my darling?"

"m'really happy," you lean up to kiss him, and he eagerly reciprocates. a particularly good thrust has you crying into him. "fuck, don't stop doing that."

"yeah?" matty breathes. "you like it when i fuck you like that, sweetheart?"

"fucking love it," you whine, hand sliding into matty's hair to keep him close. "don't stop, please. wanna cum."

"mmm, i want that too," your boyfriend hums. "can i touch you, baby? get you off again?"

an enthusiastic nod. "you can do whatever you want."

matty laughs, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek. "god, you're so fucking cute. and so fucking pretty for me when i fuck you."

you preen at the praise, angling your head to the side to take matty's thumb in your mouth. his breath catches when you release it with a pop, and he doesn't quite regain it until after you speak. "just to help you get me off, yeah?"

a beat passes, and something changes in matty's eyes. he smirks, and thrusts impossibly deeper inside you; while you gasp at that, he leans back slightly to reach down and rub little circles into your clit with his thumb. "like this?"

you can't even speak, the extra layer of stimulation shutting down your brain even more than it already was; all you can do is moan, whine, whimper out your boyfriend's name as he fucks you better than anyone else ever has before. every movement of his hips and hand sends shockwaves through your body, shockwaves beginning to gather in the pit of your stomach in a very familiar way.

and you don't even need to tell him - not that you could if you wanted to, but as soon as you open your mouth to try he cuts you off. "you're close, aren't you, darling?"

matty smiles when you nod, kissing your forehead tenderly. "i want you to cum for me whenever you feel like it, sweet girl. don't hold back. s'all about you."

"but…" you regain your voice just enough to protest.

"trust me, babe, i'll go whenever you do."

"you sure?" you choke out through the pleasure haze.

he buries his head in your neck. "been forcing myself not to cum since i first got inside you, honestly. feel fucking perfect, my perfect girl."

oh.

"matty, baby," you whimper. "keep talking."

you feel him smile against your skin before he kisses up your neck, over your jaw, onto your lips. "oh, you like it when i talk to you? dirty girl. but so good for me, my good girl, all - fucking - mine."

the final three words are punctuated by the hardest thrusts yet; matty's hips slam into yours so strongly that you wouldn't be surprised if you can't walk later. but it feels fucking delicious - he feels fucking delicious - and you feel the tension in your stomach tighten up a notch every time he slides back into you. your limbs and lips quiver against your boyfriend, and your eyes roll back into your head.

your orgasm is so close you can practically taste it. it's hard to keep your eyes open, but you force yourself to lock them on matty's. he looks absolutely fucked, jaw hanging slack and eyes heavy, but you think he's never looked better; you're not sure if the same can be said for you, but you know you must look equally as fucked as him, if not more, all panting breaths and shaky jaw.

matty thinks you're beautiful, though. he tells you as much, accompanies it with a "need you to cum for me, my girl", and that's it. that's all you need.

for the second time in… well, you have no fucking idea how long, but it's irrelevant - the build-up of pleasure in your taut, shaking body shatters, skittering through your skin and veins and nerves and lungs and voice. nails digging into matty's hair and back, you cum with a guttural wail of his name, clinging to him with your head buried in his neck like he's the only thing tethering you to reality; he might as well be, given that you've only managed to think about him for the duration of your sex session.

"fuck, sweetheart, i'm cumming," matty groans. he leans back, detaching the two of you, holding onto your waist for leverage as he thrusts sloppily into you; as he cums, he groans your name, those beautiful eyes clamping shut in the throes of ecstasy.

they blink open slowly once matty pulls out of you, gaze trailing up your heaving body to meet your own. once again, he leans down to kiss you, resting his forearms either side of your head. it's a sweet kiss, tender, at total odds with what the two of you just did. but it's perfect. he's perfect. you're perfect together.

"thank you," you smile sleepily, stroking your boyfriend's sweaty face. "that was… wow."

"understatement of the fucking century," he smiles in return. "sweetheart, that was without question the best sex i have ever had."

you snort. "shut up. i mean, same, but… come on, matty."

"i'm not kidding, darling. really," matty kisses your nose. "feels like you were made for me. in general, to be honest."

well, if you're being honest… "i like being yours, baby."

"not as much as i like being yours, i bet."

you sigh. "matty, i really can't debate with you right now. you tired me out too much."

"yeah?" he's smug. of course he is. but then he softens, the more vulnerable side of him you really like coming out a bit. "was it good enough for you, darling? it wasn't too much, or lacking anything?"

a kiss shuts him up, and a soft smile reassures him. "it was perfect. really. can't wait to do it again."

another kiss. "well, let me clean you up a bit first, sweetheart. actually, d'you want a cig, too? i'll run through and get them."

"ooh, yeah," you shuffle onto your elbows, watching with interest as your boyfriend climbs off the bed and removes the condom. "actually, can you bring my phone too? need to put a reminder in it to book a gp appointment."

matty looks up at you in a state of total confusion; given that he's currently tying the condom off, it's pretty fucking funny. "yeah. you ok, sweetheart?"

"mhmm. just seeing the condom made me think," you reply, stretching. "i want to go on the pill."

"jesus fucking- whatever you want, darling."

#mads muses #mads does writing #promptober75 #d word matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life.

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed.

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else.

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything.

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit.

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else.

More cashmere, to start. A lot more.

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole.

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce?

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen.

. . . but like, if he did . . .

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped.

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule.

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice.

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab.

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes.

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice.

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it.

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah.

Tim likes it, he means.

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going.

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin.

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now.

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.”

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it.

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu.

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.”

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now.

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker.

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.”

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely.

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing.

Okay.

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.”

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.”

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway.

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says.

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?”

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?"

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here.

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.”

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things.

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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irisintheafterglow · 8 months

Text

alright @mididoodles since you're so determined to absolutely annihilate my psyche every time you press post, here's wonderwall hockey player!satoru x skater!reader

it couldn't be that bad to go a little later to the rink, right? right?

wrong, so very wrong.

on top of sleeping through your alarm, you couldn't find your skate guards after you carelessly tossed them on your desk the night prior. you ended up having to wrench them from your dog, nearly dropping your car keys in the trash in the process. by the time you were through the double doors and shivering against the frigid air, someone's already occupied your usual timeslot. sure, it was a free skate before doors officially opened, but years of going to the same rink established that you were the one on the ice at the asscrack of dawn. the ticket sellers knew it, the zamboni drivers knew it, even other skaters knew that you had first claim. everyone was aware of your seniority, it seemed, except for the lanky hockey player swinging pucks into a net on the far side of the ice. you lace up your skates and pray for him to leave, grimacing when he doesn't and hopping onto the rink anyway. if he hit you with a puck, the lawsuit would certainly pay for your next program's costume.

you tune him out the best you can and try to ignore the way his muscles stretch against his compression long sleeve, something much too light to be wearing for a typical hockey player. you don't skate close enough to see his face, but the corded muscle on his back was enough to have your face heating. his hair was nearly the same color as the ice, and he flipped it back every so often to get it out of his face. in another world where you weren't sharing the rink with him, you'd have found yourself with a little crush on him. the music in your earbuds isn't enough, however, to drown out the sound of the stick hitting the puck over and over and over again, not to mention the times when he misses the net and the puck ricochets off the walls of the rink. your jumps become messier than usual, as are your spins, and you can only accredit it to the other occupant of the rink. after barely a few minutes of trying to share and run through your drills without using half your space, you give up and make to leave. you'd just have to come back tomorrow and hope he wasn't there.

"hey, wait! i was just leaving," a vaguely familiar voice calls to your back. it's melodic and incredibly confident, borderline arrogant. "sorry i stole your spot; i have a game tonight and i wanted to get some extra practice goals in before class." the crunch of skates sprinting across the ice and power-sliding to a halt floats into your ears and you look at the perpetrator from the corner of your eye, turning fully to look at him when your brain clicks into place who he is. "oh, shit!"

"satoru?" he mirrors the surprise in your tone, throwing his head to the side with a lopsided smile as he states your name tenderly. "oh my god, what are you doing here?" your mouth breaks into a grin, grateful to be free from the scowl you were wearing a few minutes prior. your eyes flick down to his lips as his tongue runs absentmindedly over a sparkling canine.

"i had to come in a little earlier than i usually do; i didn't know that it's during the time you're here. it's really good to see you," he says warmly and you feel your face warm. "you went pro, yeah?" you nod, casually leaning a shoulder against the plexiglass walls of the rink. he crosses his toned arms across his chest and you fight the urge to stare. it's rude to ogle the arms of your childhood crush turned hot hockey player bad boy, you scold yourself. "how's that going?"

"mmm, i just got back from russia a few weeks ago. holiday intensives and such."

"wow, that's incredible. not like i'm surprised, though. you were always the best skater in our group."

"not true. i had to use you as a walker a few times when we were first starting out," you remind him and he laughs at the memory. "you made me hold your hand while i shimmied around the perimeter."

"and you asked if i was born with skates on my feet, i remember."

"how's suguru?"

"he's great. he's usually here with me but i couldn't drag him out of his house this early in the morning."

"in true suguru fashion, really," you joke. you feel like you're seven again, staring up at satoru's bright blue eyes absolutely lovestruck. he still makes you feel butterflies, even over a decade later. "you said you had a game later?"

"yeah, here at 6:00. you should come if you're free. watch me kick ass on the ice for old time's sake."

"i'll do my best. i'm meeting a new ballet teacher who's coaching us on musicality later this afternoon."

"i don't know what any of those words mean," he states plainly and you snort. "i never understood your world."

"and i never understood yours," you confess. "yet, here we are."

"here we are, indeed," he murmurs, looking at you with an expression you've never seen on his face before. it has your heart racing like an idiot. "well, i'll let you have your rink back. thanks for letting me borrow it." he carefully steps past you and heads for the benches, throwing back his snowy hair in a way that has you gripping the edge of the wall for stability. it takes all of your willpower to keep your voice from shaking.

"i'd say come use it anytime, but i am very protective of my timeslot." he sends you a smile over his shoulder. holy shit, were his shoulders always that broad? and was he always that tall? was he always this fucking hot?

"i'll respect it, though i might pop in to watch you skate. you're mesmerizing, you know?"

"careful, any more sweet words and i'll think you have a crush on me." the words slip from your mouth faster than you can stop them and he looks at you curiously, and you'd be lying if you said he didn't look amused at your jab. you'd learned to flirt from him, after all.

when he's slipped out of his skates and re-approached you, you're barely tall enough to look him in the eyes. "it was good to see you," he murmurs.

"feeling's mutual." he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo and you resist the urge to touch his undercut.

"i missed you." his three words have you feeling weak in the knees and slightly breathless. "a lot." despite the chill, you feel your palms start to sweat.

"i missed you too."

"keep your eyes on me tonight?" you roll your eyes at his familiar, comforting self-assurance.

"like i would look at anyone else." his eyes are sparkling and time seems to slow down to a honey-covered crawl. "what number should i be watching?" he cracks a mischievous smirk, shrugging and walking to the exit. you're speechless on the ice until he turns back a final time.

to tell you that his number is your birthday.

I CALL WRITING THE GAME I'M GONNA WRITE THE GAME I WANNA WRITE THE GAME SOON I JUST FEEL SO AWKWARD WRITING WITHOUT ANY FIRST MEET/CONTEXT

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk ice skating au #jjk au

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mediocre-quill-ink · 11 months

Note

I just found your Dirty cop post and I'm here to ask...

Are you planning on making a continuation perhaps? 👉🏼👈🏼 Cause it was fucking amazing!

Ty so much for the request, and thank you for saying it was amazing. i really appreciate it!!!

Pt.1

Dirty cop pt 2

Content: probably inaccurate to the game. Tried to work this one into Canon a little bit. Ralph is a major character in the first half, Simi public sex, light bondage, a lot of degrading, female anatomy but gender nutral terms when being adressed. Connor has a sweet spot???

I gazed into the pouring rain, wondering how long till freedom comes. How much longer I need to hide. To run. Ever since I got apprehended by that RK800 a week ago, my anxiety has been spiked. Not to say I completely disliked our interaction. One moment in particular I was quite fond of but... getting arrested or dismantled is by no means something I'll embrace.

I've heard news here and there of another rogue android "freeing" others. Whispers of a revolution on the rise. God, I hope so. I want to feel safe. Free.

I flenched at a clatter, whiping around to see a scared WR600, a large blue gash stretched across his face. A floor board snapped benith him, causing him to fall through it and trip, letting out frustrated and pained cries. "Are you alright, Ralph?" I asked, slightly started.

I met Ralph a week ago after running from the RK800, connor. The bus dropped me off in front of the dilapidated building, and I decided to make a temporary home there. At least until I could find a better squat. When I first hopped the fence, I was surprised to find myself at knife point. Something along the lines about how he doesn't trust strangers. How humans hurt him. With enough convincing, I was able to stay. I don't entirely trust him. He's unpredictable and violent, but I like him. He's fun and cares a lot. He seems to have grown rather attached to me despite his fears. And I'm sure he feels the same way about me. He's really sweet when he's not flailing around a knife, but he's also very cautious of me, doesn't like sudden movements.

"No! Ralph is not okay! He got hurt!" I sighed, slowly walking over. He landed on his hands and knees, turing over and sitting down. "Are you bleeding?" I asked, crouching down. He rolled up a pant leg, reveling a patch of the synthetic skin rubbed away, the white plastic shell cracked. I sucked in a breath. "Okay, no bleeding. Good. You're damaged, but you're good. You're fine. Can you walk?" Ralph didn't say anything in response, just muttering to himself. "Ralph? Are you hearing me?" I placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. He glanced over at me for a moment before looking off into space again, still muttering. "Okay. I'm gonna walk away for a minute and give you some time to breathe. I'll be back soon, and I'll take care of you, alright?" He didn't respond. I removed my hand from his shoulder and stood up. "I'll be back soon." I repeated before finally walking away.

I stepped into the dusty living room, taking in a deep breath and sitting down. Fuck. I need to find repairs fast. Ralph stabbed me the first day I found this place, so I need to find a proper bag of theriam and probably a hot poke to seal the wound. And now, among other things, Ralph needs a replacement leg piece. As far as I'm aware, this is his only cracked area, which can lead to nasty injuries or malfunctions. I heard there's a small cyberlife store a few miles away. With a proper disguise and some luck, I can probably sneak some supplies back home.

Just then, I heard shifting outside the house. Jumping to my feet, I snuck over to the farthest wall, listening. It sounded like a woman and a little girl sitting at the bus stop. "Kara, I'm cold," said the little girl. "Don't worry, alice, well find some place warm to stay soon," then followed by floot steps, walking down the street to the left twords the convince store. I let out a worried sigh.

"Ralph? Are you feeling any better?" I asked, walking back into the room. He sat in a slightly more relaxed pose. "Ralph is better. Ralph has faced worse." He muttered. "Can you stand? Walk?" I replied. He took a moment, placing his palms firmly on the ground and pushing, standing up. One leg was slightly wobbly, but I think that was more duing of nerves. He exchanged balance between legs and finally stated, "Yes, Ralph can stand."

"Good," I sighed. "Now come on, let's head over to the living room. I heard some people nearby. They're probably harmless. They sounded like a woman and child, but I'd like somewhere secure to stay anyways. " He quickly agreed. "Yes. You can never be too careful."

The sun rose, and I found myself anxiously staring at the wall. Just past it was more noise. Down the street was a cop car. From what I can hear, a robbery. The perpetrators, a rogue nanny android, and a kidnapped child. They may have been who I heard last night. But one thing sticks out to me. A familiar voice imminating from across the street. I can't place why it's so familiar, but it brings up strange emotions. Fear, excitement... arousal? It's husky and dry in tone. Very matter of fact. "Cops. Ralph doesn't like cops." Ralph whispered. "I know, I know." I muttered, trying to figure out what to do. I took a moment to think. Evaluating what to do.

Should we sit and wait it out? Should I run? Go get supplies? Hell, stand in as a witness?

Fuck, think this through.

After a frustrating inner battle I chose.

"Ralph. You stay here and hidden, alright? I'll leave and pick up supplies." I breathed, anxiety pricking my back. "Go out? That's insane!" Ralph replied. "I know, I know. But I'm betting on the cops across the street being too distracted with the crime scene to give too much attention. I'll hop around the back. And be as quick as I can, alright?" "What if you get caught? Ralph does not want his new friend to get caught." He replied, a bit more frantic. I grabbed his hand, stating, "If I get caught, I'll find a way to escape. I did last time. Just keep hidden." I let go of his hand and headed outside before further argument could be raised.

I headed to the back of the property, where the least traffic can spot and swiftly hopped the fence. Trying to casually walk down the street. Don't be conspicuous. As I strode down the street I couldn't help but stop for a moment to look at the crime scene. The clerk at the store was speaking to an officer taking notes. There was an older man with shaggy grey hair and an ugly shirt underneath a jacket. Next to him was a much younger looking android, clean-cut hair, suit calm and confident posture. Oh god. It's him. How the fuck did he end up here?

He turned to inspect the area, looking at the abandoned house. I tried to casually lean against the fence and not look to conspicuous. Pulling my hood up a bit more and trying to look around as if I lost my way. "We should investigate the house. Mabye the criminals took hiding in there." Spoke the RK800, pointing at it before glancing at me. His led spinning.

Stay calm

Stay calm.

When I found myself at Ralph's house, I removed my led as quick as I could and found some human clothes in an upstairs closet. Hopefully, if he's not paying too much attention, he won't recognize me. Or at least think im a different android of the same model.

"You! Come here." He hollered at me.

I glanced around and pointed a thumb at myself.

He nodded, repeatedly for me to come to him.

Shit.

I tried to calmly walk his way. I thought about booking it but then I'd be undoubtedly suspicious. as I finally stood in front of him, his led flickered and swirled, brows knitting slightly. "good morning. apologies for throwing off your day but I need to ask a few questions. do you have any information on the crime scene?" he gestures to the robbed convenience store, his voice with a whisper of suspicion. "oh. not that i know of, no." I breathed, trying to suppress my anxious energy. "well it'd be helpful to ask you a few questions just in case. I hope you understand." he spoke dryly as he subtly turned to other officers. "make sure to sweep the area." he muttered to them before turning back to me. "have you noticed any strange activity in the area?"

"no. I don't think so."

"have you seen an AX400 with a child? she's brunette, about nine years old."

"nope."

"what were you doing by that abandoned building?"

a tenseness gripped my metallic spine. "I was on a way to a local restaurant, i wanted to get some breakfast. But i had to stop and make sure i was going the right way."

"you stared at the crime scene for quite a bit. at me too. whys that?"

i caught myself from gulping and put on a playful smile "well, natural curiosity. disaster is hard to look away from. also, stop me if I'm overstepping officer but... beauty is too." i could feel my false sense of confidence fade into an embarrassed cringe as i finished. his led swirled again and in the distance, the sound of his older coworker cough awkwardly.

"mmm hmm." was all Connor replied. after a moment his led stilled. "you look awfully familiar." he stated, "have we met before?" i sucked in a breath, my chest tightening. "no, not that I'm aware of." i replied.

he scanned me up and down literally and figuratively. then his eyes twitched slightly. "you look very similar to the DB500." he now sounded a bit more accusatory. "well, they had to get the faces for androids from somewhere. I'm sure someone from cyberlife used my face as an example."

"did you volunteer at the company for development?" he asked, again more accusitory than genuine.

"no."

"then they didnt."

there was a moment of silence.

"hank! i need to take this person into further custody for questioning. hold down the team until i get back!" he shouted before opening the door to a cop car and shoving me inside, shutting the door behind me.

"what? Connor! we can have another officer drive them to the station where are you going?" "i know but this witness seems to valuable to interrogate later and to dangerous to be shipped out with a human. ill be back shortly." and he swiftly pulled into the car, ordering it to drive. as it rolled away from the crime scene, the grey haired man could be heard in the distance shouting "goddamn it!"

"what's happening? where are we going?" I ask, gripping the seat. "one thing to know about me is that i always accomplish my mission. you happen to be one that slipped away. i intend to finish my mission." his voice was hard and almost spiteful. "and your mission?" I ask, gulping subconsciously. "well. my first objective is to apprehend you. once your under arrest, you'll be shipped off to cyberlife to be dismantled and see what went wrong. my second objective..." he paused. breaths more heavy before continuing. "i have to admit. after you were in my custody, and after my interrogation I couldn't get you out off my mind. it was... frustrating. a new objective has been added. and that's having my way with you."

my knees weaken. my therium pump pulsating a higher rate. "really?" I choked out. "are you willing?" he whispered back.

a chill ran down my now hot spine. "yes. I'm willing."

he pulled the car into an empty parking lot, an area of Detroit i recognized. I didn't make deliveries here often but that's why it stuck out to me. a fairly quiet and isolated part. it used to be a popular housing and restaurant area before people started loosing jobs and going homeless. this was the first of housing areas to go near abandonment. I wanted to ask why he took me here but i had a good idea.

he stepped out of the front seat and opened the back passenger, where I was. he quickly closed the door and leaned into me, placing sloppy kisses on my shoulder. i relaxed into it, letting out a soft moan and wrapping my arms softly around his back. he, in that moment felt so... desperate. it was strange. my few interactions with him so far have been nothing but cold. stiff. dominant. but right now he was... venerable. I couldn't help but place a soft kiss on top of his coffee locks. a soft moan blew against my shoulder in reply, his hands quickly digging under my musky shirt and jacket, cold hands grassing my stomach.

"I haven't been able to get out out of my head sense you've escaped." he mumbled, kisses growing rougher.

"I didn't understand why. at first i thought it was because i was determined about the case." his rough kisses slowly inched up my throat. "but then this... feeling kept bubbling and bubbling until i couldn't handle myself. and i realized i wanted you." his hands grasped my breasts, squeezing slightly the rolling the hardened buds under his thumb's "no... i needed you." he left the softest bite on my jaw before finally planting a deep, hard kiss against my lips.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, hips bucking into him. I trailed my hands up his back and tangled with his nylon hair. It was soft, not a single knot.

He quickly pulled back from the kiss and finally pushed my clothes above my head, tossing them to the side.

He now dove for my chest, taking one breast in his mouth, wet tongue massaging my nipple. He hooked his thumbs into my pants and tugged them down along with my underwear. It was a rough, almost violent motion. I shimmied my hips, helping him remove them further. He didn't waste time removing them, discarding them just as quickly as my top.

"So desperate"

"What?" He breathed, agrivated expression as he fitted with his belt.

Shit. I thought I was just thinking that. "Nothing." I whispered back. He ripped the belt out out of his pants, pulling them down to reveal a hard-on already springing to life. Holy fuck.

Connor quickly crawled on top of me, caging me against the seat with his arms. He pushed inside me slowly, letting out a soft groan. I could already feel his systems overheating, a heat radiating against my synthetic skin.

He began slow thrusts, planting sloppy kisses against my throat again, now a different side.

Aside from moans and pants, it was eerly quiet. A near abandoned housing area in Detroit was strange. Though I could hear the familiar sounds of cars down the highway or cyberlife advertisements a block down, it was almost eery. Just us parked in an abandoned lot for a former small business pizza restaurant.

"I don't want to hear you call me that again." He grunted against me.

"What?"

His pase picked up, rocking the car slightly. "You called me desprate." He breathed, hot air brushing against my shoulder. "I am not desperate."

"You act it." I replied, arching slightly into him.

He didn't respond, just a swallow imminating from his throat.

"You rushed me into the car when you were on duty. You ripped off clothes, little patience. Your kisses and moans drip with desperation." I added, "I enjoy it. But I have to admit it's not a state I expected you to be in."

"Were you expecting," he let out another choked out moan. "Me to be more dominant?"

"After the impression you left me with the last time? Of corse."

"If you want me to be mean, I'll be mean." He lulled.

At that, an excited moan escaped my throat.

"Do you want me to be mean?" He whispers against my ear, sending shivers down my metallic spine.

"Yes." I whispered.

His pase once again grew rougher, he pulled away from my chest, and sat in a more comfortable position. Instead of pinning me down, he stood upright, grasping my hips and thighs as he plowed into me.

He moved one hand to unfasten his tie. He grabbed my wrists and tied them to the grip on the car door. It fastened tight around my wrists, giving it a few tugs to test and it sat firm around my wrists.

"I can be more than mean," he lulled "I can be cruel." Just after he said that, he pressed a finger against my clit, it began to vibrate. Another wave of pleasure shot up my spine, my mind growing foggy. "And you'd like that, wouldn't you? You filthy fucking Deviant." He panted, pressing hard against my core followed my a sting on my ass. He spanked me. Then, continued to thrust. A shaky moan emerged from my lips, as I tightened around him. He let out a soft pant before quickly regaining composure and giving an cocky smirk. "That what I thought. Disgusting whore." I hummed in agreement. I could feel him twitch inside me.

He used his spair hand to slowly trail my body. From my thighs, up my hips, down my stomach... up my throat. He squeezed. Though I couldn't stop the airway, it did cause a different malfunction. To the voice mojual in my throat. As he squeezed, the moans escaping my throat, choked into nothing but garbled static. "Such lovely sounds~" He hummed. Slowing into a grind. He rocked his hips back and forth, making slow, small thrusts.

I bucked my hips, clinching around him again, forcing out moans from connor. "What a fucking whore. Where have you been all this time? Hiding from me?" He removed the pressure from my throat to allow me to speak. "Fuck," I gasped "I in an abandoned-" I caught myself before I could say the truth. If they haven't searched the house yet, I don't want them to now because of me. Ralph may be a little freak, but I still care about him. "Arcade..." I finally stated. "I was out to find repairs for the games."

Connor stared hard into me as I spoke, using his spare hand to trail across the stab wound Ralph left me when we met. "Who did this to you?"

"It was a misunderstanding. " I mumbled before letting out another moan

He paused to bend down and place a soft kiss on the injury. It was... nice. Soft, genuine. For a brief moment, whatever aggressive mask he had on melted away. Only a moment. Just as quickly as the tenderness came, it went because his expression quickly hardened, stood up, and the movement continued. This time, the shaft moving on its own.

"Fuck," Connor gasped "your such a good hole for me..." He leaned in, pressing his body waight against my core. "You take everything I give you. Such a good girl." He panted, running his hands up my stomach, my chest and softly squeezing my breasts. I could feel him start to twitch inside of me, his moans grew more frequent.

Again, his dominant mask slipping away for a brief moment. He quickly grew desperate again, rhutting against me like a dog in heat. Almost melting against me as he let out whimpers and moans like a cheap whore.

Strings of heat released inside of me, him collapsing into against me.

There was a moment of silence. We were both now sitting next to each other, mostly dressed. For once, his perfect hair was an absolute mess.

"So now what?" I ask. Thinking back to what he told me earlier.

well. my first objective is to apprehend you. once your under arrest, you'll be shipped off to cyberlife to be dismantled and see what went wrong.

My gut wrenched. "Are you gonna... send me off to die now that you got off?"

He sat silent. The cramptness of the car wasn't helping with the suffocating akwardeness.

"I mean... you always complete your mission..." I sighed.

"No."

"What?"

"No... I can't."

I didn't know what to say.

"I can't. I can't take you to jail."

I swallowed hard "why?"

He shook his head, squeezing his hands together. "I... I don't know."

I sucked in a deep breath, squeezing the cool air into my self colling system. "What does this mean?"

He leaned over across me, popping open the door on my side. "Get out. I'll tell Hank you ran away again." I slowly slipped out of the car and stood to stare at him. If I sgull had my led, I'm sure it would be swirling yellow. "You're letting me go?" I whispered.

He nodded solemnly. "I Just... I hope to find you again." He mumbled. He let out a sigh and walked out the car before returning to the drivers seat. He waved goodbye and drove off before I could say anything else. If I could. I was speechless.

Connor. The Deviant hunter.... let me go.

Pt 3

#dbh #detroit become human #connor #connor dbh #connor x reader dbh #dbh connor #dbh smut #connor dbh smut #connor x reader #dirty cop pt 2 #dirty cop

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