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sunshine7queen · 6 months

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The Halloween Party

Synopsis: Halloween has arrived where everybody can dress up as their favorite creature and characters. And today you struggled on thinking what costume to wear this year. With the help of your friends, you finally thought of one that will knock everyone out: to dress as the King of Curses himself. What will his reaction would be?

Pairing: Yuji/Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warnings: 18+, full nelson, smut, breeding kink, Sukuna calls her Mistress, rough sex, reader being a dom queen, creampie, soft Sukuna in the end, a bonus ending included!

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I've posted something like fanfic related but this idea has been stuck to my head in the holiday has started. I hope you all enjoy this ^v^ Also, sorry if the smut's not too perfect, it's been a while.

Today was Halloween, the one year where everyone celebrates the spooky holiday by dressing up in costumes and giving out candy.

Speaking of costumes, you were having trouble thinking what to dress as. And the reason is that because Gojo decided to plan out a Halloween party at Jujutsu Tech and of course, he even added a contest for the best Halloween costume.

Every year, you always come up with the scariest costumes that blow everyone away and even scare them too. So right now, you’re hanging out with Nobara and Maki at the mall in the search for costumes. Perhaps this will help you out for inspiration for your costume.

“Any luck?” Nobara asks you, wondering if anything sparks an idea in your head.

You looked around at the outfits, masks, and wigs but nothing catches your attention. You shake your head, “Nope.”

“Well, there has to be something for you.”

Maki then decides to pitch in to help you, “Have you ever thought about dressing as a vampire?”

“I’ve already done that last year, don’t get me wrong, I love my vampire costume but I want to do something different.”

“Okay then, how about a witch?”

“No, I’ve done that too. And also, that’s what Nobara is dressing for the party.”

“It’s okay girl! We can both match but it’s your decision and I respect that.”

“Thanks Nobara.” You sigh; thinking what to dress as is making you feel exhausted and your friends took notice of this.

“Hey how about we take a break?” Maki suggests, “Let’s get something to eat and we can go look again before the party starts.”

“Sure. We can use a break, my head’s wiped out.” You laugh as they join in as you three make your way to the food court.

Taking a break was a good idea after all as you sip your favorite beverage. “Alright, we still have time but we can talk ideas here in the meantime.”

“Well,” You lean your head back, “I want my costume to be scary this year, something that will scare their pants off.”

Nobara hums as she thinks of an idea. “Something scary huh? I think it would have to be that’ll top off a werewolf, vampire, ghoul or zombie.”

“What could be frightening than them?” Maki asks.

She's got a point there; what could be more frighting and scarier than the classic monsters or legends?

It was at that moment when a smile crept on your face.

Nobara begins to chuckle, every time you make that look; an idea strikes in your head. “Oh! I recognize that look anywhere! What’s your big idea?”

You let out a dark chuckle through your lips, Nobara and Maki weren’t too sure if they should be scared or not by your behavior. Motioning your hands at them to lean closer, they scoot their seats next to you. “Listen, here. This is my idea…”

Whispering to them about your idea, the girls started to grin as you explain your costume idea. They have a feeling that this costume will definitely knock everyone’s socks out.

The three of you returned back to Jujutsu Tech, you told Nobara and Maki to get ready for their costumes so they can help you with yours. Five minutes later, Nobara and Maki came into your dorm. Nobara had on a cute witch outfit with a stuffed black cat in her right arm and holding a broom to her left. As for Maki, she’s a vampire with her hair down, slicking her front bangs back to make it more classic.

“Wow! You guys look amazing!” You gush over their costumes.

Nobara blushes at your compliment, “Aw thank you! Now, let’s get you ready for yours!”

“Let’s do it!” You cheered.

Hours later, it was finally finished. Nobara and Maki couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.

“So ladies, what do you think?” You curl your fingers, twirling them around your wig.

“Wow, I…” Nobara looks at you up and down. “I’m literally taken back right now. You look like a literal queen.”

“I usually don’t compliment that much, but you got my exception.” Maki smirks, showing her fake vampire fangs.

“Shall we get started?”

Meanwhile, outside of the courtyard, the entire place was decorated with lights in a form of pumpkins and ghosts, cutout paper of mini ghosts, a table filled with delicious food and sweet treats, and plenty of games to enjoy.

Everyone else is here, even the students of the Kyoto Sister school are here as well. Yuji is with his friend Megumi, along with Toge and Panda. Yuji decided to be Spiderman, he got his mask off right before the contest starts. Megumi didn’t want to dress up but was forced by Gojo who he eventually put him as a werewolf.

“I think you look great, Fushiguro!” Yuji gave him a thumbs up with a smile on his face.

Megumi’s brow twitches, he wasn’t enjoying this as much. “You know sensei had me wear this.” He crossed his arms.

“Yeah but, you gotta get into the spirit for this party. They’re already in the vibe of it.” He points at Toge and Panda. Apparently, Toge is dressed as Joker from Persona 5 for some reason but Panda told them that he got into it and wanted to try out.

For Panda, he wanted to go as a teddy bear but couldn’t find a suitable outfit in time, so instead he put a bear hat with ears along with a red ribbon tied around his neck.

“Hey, how’s everyone enjoying the party?” Gojo walks up to them, he’s dressed as Jack Frost with a blue hoodie with white linings to make them look like ice, brown pants and white shoes. He even brought a staff to match up.

“I’m having a great time and you look fantastic, sensei!” Yuji replied.

Gojo smugly smirks as he chuckles, “I always look good in everything.”

“You look like a clown that’s what.” Gojo stares at the eye and mouth that appeared on Yuji’s cheek. Sukuna never understands the meaning of the holiday at all, he thinks that it’s lame to see everyone wearing abnormal outfits.

“At least I’m not stuck in a body as a vessel. Got anything to say to that?” He tilts his head as he still smirks. Sukuna grunts in frustration, but before he could make a comeback at Gojo, his mouth gapes with no words coming out.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Gojo waited for a response but there was nothing but silence. “What’s the matter with him?”

Yuji was about to reply but he looks over his sensei’s shoulder as he got the same reaction as Sukuna.

“Yuji, you too?” Gojo turns around to see what was making his student to be baffled, and as soon as he turns his back around, he starts to chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned, so that’s why.”

You enter the courtyard with your friends by your side. You got on a white kimono with a blue obi tied around your waist. Tattoos painted on your face to make it look like his, you even added the extra eyes as well. As for the finishing touch, you put a long pink wig you previously wore from one of your cosplays and red eye contacts to match the entire look.

Smirking at them, revealing your fangs. “Hello, brats.”

Everyone stares at you either in fear or in awe. You head towards Yuji, who’s blushing on how beautiful you look, even though you’re dressed as the guy who bullies him everyday, you really pulled it off.

You drag your press-on black nail, gently on his cheek where Sukuna is. “Shocked, my king? You look speechless.” Tracing his lips with your thumb; he felt shivers crawling up his back. His eye explore everywhere on your body, you got every single one of his markings correct.

You softly chuckled at his reaction, this is the one you were looking forward to. “Until then, see you later, tiger.” You kiss his lips as you let go. He quickly reverts back to his domain, leaving him a blushing mess.

“Are you all surprised?” They all nod their heads, never in their lives they would’ve seen you to be dressed as the King of Curses.

“Why yes, your Highness.” Gojo bows to you. Now he knows who will be the true winner of the contest. “And how about we leave these two lovebirds alone.” Gojo leads everyone so they can enjoy the rest of the evening while you and Yuji can have alone time.

“I was not expecting this at all.” He rubs the back of his head, giving you a closed eye smile.

“I bet and I’m taking a guess that he wasn’t expecting this either.” You nod your head right at the scar under his eye.

“Yeah, none of us did either. You look really gorgeous.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body closer, having your hands travel up to his chest.

You blush, “Thank you and I think you look really handsome, my hero.” You cup his cheek, leaning into his face, giving him a kiss as he kisses back.

And with that, you won the contest with your costume and as to celebrate this moment, you and Yuji dragged each other to your dorm where he’s sitting on a chair, holding your waist as you ride on his cock.

You made him remove his Spiderman suit, only showing off his firm muscles. You rode him as if your life depended on it. “Baby, I- I think he wants to be out now!” He stammers, continuing his thrusts in your drenched pussy.

You moan softly at his cock hitting every spot. “It’s okay, my love. You can let him out.” He shuts his eyes as tattoos begin to form on his body. And the scars under his eyes, have opened to reveal his ruby eyes.

“What inspired you to dress as me, darling?”

“Well, I had to think which costume to go as and what would be a better idea than to dress as one of the most feared being of the Heian Era?”

Sukuna couldn’t help but smile, he felt his heart beat through his tatted chest. “This is why I fallen in love with you.” He grabs the shoulders of your kimono, pulling it down slowly, revealing your bare breasts. “No bra? Were you waiting for little old me to see this?”

“And what if I did?” You press your breasts on his pecs. Both of you are feeling turned on right now with this sexual atmosphere. He wanted to claim you so badly to ram his cock and fill you with his seed, making you his forever.

“What are you waiting for?” You snap him out of his thoughts, dragging your nails down on his muscles. “Do you want to please your Mistress?” You nip his ear lobe then giving it a lick.

Whatever it is you’re doing, is really making him feral and having his cock inside you, throbbing erratically. Letting out a feral growl, he got up from his seat, holding you in his arms to have your legs wrap around his waist, pressed you against the wall as he gave you harsh thrusts. Moans escaped from your lips, hands gripping on his chiseled back. “Do you love this, Mistress?” He grits his teeth.

“Very much! Don’t stop pleasing your Queen!” The sounds of skin clapping and moans echoing across the dorm. He looks down where a white ring is coated around his cock, he throws his head back, grunting and stares at you again with hazy eyes. “Fuck! Me and our brat are enjoying seeing you in pleasure. Telling me how you look like a goddess and he’s right.” Sweat drips from his forehead to his muscles, glistening by the light of the moon. “I love you two so much.” You cry out, tears run down your face. “We both love you two.” Finally, you both reach to each other’s climax, as he seals your lips with his, drowning every moan and caressing your thighs.

He pulls you away from the wall, slowly removing his cock from your pussy, his cum leaks out as he pushes his seed back into you with his fingers. Sukuna carries you to your bed and pulls down the covers. He gently puts you down as he joins you. He wraps your waist with his arm, dragging his body to you.

“Are you hurt?” Sure he may be rough during sex but he does get carried away at times and doesn’t like seeing you in pain.

“Not at all.” You snuggle closer, staring him with loving eyes.

“You’ve made your Mistress very happy.”

“That I did, my Queen.” He purred.

You two kiss each other again as sleep took over your bodies, cuddling each other’s arms.

Bonus:

The day after, Yuji woke up with markings and bite marks on his body and sees you cuddling him in his arms. He then decides not to wake you up and enjoy the moment with his girl.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy the story! ^v^ Don't forget to comment, reblog and like! <3<3<3

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuji smut

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emjayewrites · 1 month

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Lil’ Crush (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Hairstylist Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Lewis has a huge crush on his hairstylist.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem hairstylist reader (Y/N)

WARNINGS: cursing, slow burn at first, obvious sexual tension, sexual content. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1

A/N: Just something cutesy/nasty to hold everyone over as I take a step back from writing 🤗

Lewis tolerated your occasional tardiness at appointments, despite his dislike for waiting on others. Time and time again, you apologized, citing car troubles or traffic or double booking as the reason. But Lewis didn't mind; all that mattered was that you always showed up and delivered exceptional work.

You were skillful at your job, always in a chipper mood, explorative, and knowledgeable about your craft. You taught him the basics on how to take proper care of his hair, telling him what products to use for his specific hair pattern. You were licensed, a continuous learner of the industry, but most of all you weren’t afraid to put him in his place.

Although he hated to admit it, he enjoyed how straightforward you were, telling him off and letting him know that all of his championships, his celebrity, you couldn’t care less about it. Now, if that was anyone else, of course that will be the last time they will be within his inner circle, yet it was you.

They dubbed you “Lewis’ girl”, not meant disrespectfully but because there were rumors that Lewis forbids anyone else from pursuing you. He would never admit it openly, but you were special to him - his confidante. And he wasn't willing to let anyone else have you.

It wasn't possessiveness, just a desire to keep you all to himself. So he came up with a plan, vowing to be honest with himself and stop playing games. But knowing Lewis, it would probably take a while.

Until then, he continued pining - casual flirting here and there that goes under your radar, small gifts, giving you his undivided attention. The works. It was you after all.

Once again, you joined Lewis for another race weekend. Despite your growing fame and clientele, you made sure to schedule around Lewis's busy racing schedule. He always spoke highly of you and his fans loved every hairstyle you created for him since becoming his permanent hairstylist toward the end of last season.

Lewis only gave you the best: from hair tools to flights and hotel rooms, whatever you needed, you received it. After all, you were his girl.

Another race in another country. This time you found yourself in Japan. A first time for you whereas a countless number for him. Lewis flew you out first class and booked you a suite with a view. It was your first time, so you had to have a great experience.

Your hair was in its natural state, perfect spiral curls from your flexi rod set. Lewis loved your hair like this, how it framed your face beautifully and reflected your personality. You were always experimenting with different styles - silk presses, bohemian braids, wigs - and they all worked flawlessly. Despite claiming to not be into fashion as much as Lewis, he couldn't help but compliment your impeccable outfits.

You were in your own world, moving around freely as you listened to a song from one of your many playlists. You just finished washing his hair and was now in the midst of detangling his curls before blow-drying.

Lewis had always prided himself on being a disciplined and focused athlete, but when it came to you, he was powerless. Every time he saw you, his heart raced and his mind went into overdrive, imagining all the ways he could make you moan and scream his name, especially with the outfit that you wearing.

He had a preference for skirts over pants on you, admiring how they showed off your long legs despite being a few inches shorter than him. Your ass looked amazing whether you wore pants or skirts, but there was something about you in a skirt that drove him wild with desire. Many nights, he dreamt of bending you over, reveling in how the skirt would rise up to reveal your thighs and perfect backside. He imagined taking you from behind, delivering mind-blowing thrusts and relishing in the sounds you made when you were near climax. You bent over in a skirt, wet and willing for him - it was one of his favorite fantasies. Another was listening to your sultry voice praising him, a kink he didn't know he had until you comforted him after a tough race. As you paused in the middle of braiding his hair to hold him close and speak softly, it aroused him more than he'd like to admit.

The sight of you in that skirt today distracted him like no other. The way the fabric clung to your thighs, subtly emphasizing your hips and drawing attention to the gentle curve of your waist, was nothing short of intoxicating. He could have spent hours just watching you move, the hem of the skirt brushing against your calves as you walked, offering fleeting glimpses of skin that sent a shiver through him. But he knew he had to control himself, or risk losing all restraint and giving into his desires right then and there.

Lewis sat in his seat, stealing glances at you and attempting to distract himself from thoughts of confessing his feelings. He had been keeping them hidden for months, fearing that revealing them would destroy the strong bond of friendship that had grown between you over the past year. Before meeting you, Lewis was known as guarded by his close friends and family, but your presence had slowly broken down the barriers he had constructed after his breakup with his ex.

“Any ideas on what you want to get done today, or are you open to trying something new?” you ask as you part his hair into four neat sections.

Lewis winces as the comb glides through his tight coils, causing him to shift in his seat and prompting you to gently guide him back.

So tender-headed, you thought to yourself. But it was always worth it for the end result - styling Lewis' hair was one of your favorite things to do. You talked about everything and nothing - work, family, hobbies - and each time, Lewis opened up a little more. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.

He hummed thoughtfully before answering, "Hmm, let's go with the usual fade on the sides and maybe some blonde in the braids."

"Okay, I see you, Lew Lew," you exclaimed, causing him to chuckle.

As you worked on his hair, Lewis couldn't help but admire your skill and grace. You had always been artistic and creative, but watching you braid his hair was simply mesmerizing.

"How's it looking so far?" you asked, holding up a mirror for him to inspect the back of his head.

Lewis tilted his head to the side, admiring your handiwork. "Perfect as always," he replied with a smile.

"Good," you said with a satisfied nod before returning to braiding.

"So how have things been going for you lately?" He asks, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You pause for a moment before replying, "Pretty good actually. I've been busy with work. I got a lot of new clients."

"That's great to hear," Lewis smiles warmly at you. "You deserve all the success that's coming your way."

Your heart flutters at his words and you feel a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. Lewis often showed such overt affection towards you, but it still made you giddy.

"Thanks," you reply with a shy smile. "And what about you? How's everything been since your last race?"

Lewis hesitates for a moment before answering, "It's been...strange. But good." He reaches up to rub at his neck nervously. "I've been feeling different lately. I was in a sour mood about the car this season, but I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of the races."

"As you should, King," you say, making him grin widely. Lewis closed his eyes in relaxation as you worked on him, massaging oil into his scalp as you continued to section off his hair. He enjoyed feeling your hands on him, how gentle you were. "Don't fall asleep on me now," you reply with a laugh as you catch him dozing off.

"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," he responded, trying to play it cool.

"Mmmhmm," you said skeptically, remembering the last time he had said that and ended up snoring away. "You said that last time and your ass was out like a light."

Lewis chuckled sheepishly. "Well, don't be so good at your job," he teased playfully.

"Bye, Lewis," you quipped in a dismissive tone, rolling your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere,” you shoot back with a wink before continuing to massage his scalp.

After a few minutes, you finish applying the hair oil and begin braiding the remaining sections of Lewis' hair. You work quickly and efficiently, your hands moving in sync as if they were made for this very task.

"You never cease to amaze me with your skills," he says sincerely.

"Well, I have a pretty amazing canvas to work on," you reply with a smile, referring to Lewis' hair.

He chuckles before getting serious again. "But seriously though, thank you for always taking care of me."

You pause in your braiding and look at him with concern. "Of course Lewis. You know I'm always here for you."

"I do know that," he says softly patting your arm.

Your heart races at the intimacy of the gesture. Lewis clears his throat and sits straighter in the chair.

"Alright, enough of that," he says, "what are your plans for the week?"

"Well, I was going to hang out here for another day or so then head back home to rest before I travel for another client."

"What do you mean 'stay for a day or so'?" Lewis asked incredulously. "Y/N, the suite is reserved until the end of the week. This is your first time in Japan; don't leave so soon."

I want to spend more time with you, Lewis thought to himself. But he couldn't express those feelings out loud, at least not yet.

"I have to rest, Lew," you stated, trying to sound firm.

"You can rest here," was his response, making you frown slightly. Although you didn't mind spending more time with Lewis, you didn't want to intrude on his personal space.

"What are you trying to do, convince me to stay longer so that you can bother me?" you teased half-heartedly, trying to hide your true feelings.

Lewis chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just don't want you to miss out on all that Japan has to offer. Plus, I would love for you to experience it with me."

His words tug at your heartstrings. You couldn't resist that charming smile and pleading look in his eyes.

"Fine," you finally relent with a smile. "But only if you promise not to bother me too much."

"Deal," he says with a grin before pulling out his phone. "I’m texting the guys now to tell them that you’re coming with us to dinner."

"Of course you are," you say as you finish up the last braid and give it a final spritz of hairspray. "All done."

Lewis rises from the chair and swivels around to face a mirror, examining his new hairstyle with a satisfied grin before turning his attention towards you. "Looks amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply with a warm smile.

The moment feels charged with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you both just stand there looking at each other until Lewis’ phone dinged with a text.

He checks the message and his grin widens. "It’s Miles," he informed you. "Looks like they're already waiting for us at the restaurant. You good to go?"

You glanced down at your outfit. You freshened up earlier and was currently wearing a mini cargo skirt and a black bodysuit. Simple yet stylish nonetheless. You nod, gathering your purse and other necessities then slipped into a pair of heels. You followed Lewis out of the suite and into the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but you can feel Lewis' gaze on you, making you shift slightly under his scrutiny.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Lewis leads you through the hotel lobby to one of the hotel’s restaurants.

Lewis fills you in on some interesting facts about Japan and its culture as you walk to your table. You find yourself hanging on to every word he says, enjoying not only his knowledge but also his company.

The rest of the guys are already seated, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

Miles jumps up from his seat when he sees Lewis and rushes over to give him a hug. "Hey, bruv! Glad you could make it," he says before turning to face you with a warm smile. "Y/N, how are you babygirl? Looking as gorgeous as ever."

"I’m doing great." You greeted Lewis' best friend with a warm smile and leaned in for a hug. The embrace lingers longer than you expected, with Miles holding onto you tightly before finally pulling away. You don't think anything of it, as Miles is just as, if not more, flirtatious than Lewis. However, you can't help but notice Lewis's scowl from the corner of your eye. You then greeted Andrew and Tim, engaging in light conversation with them.

"Seriously, cut it out," Lewis whispered to Miles as he watched you talking to his friends.

Miles looked confused. "I just said hi, I can still talk to Y/N, right?"

"It's not about that, man. Just tone down the hugging and all that." Lewis was trying to keep his jealousy in check, but he didn't appreciate Miles being too touchy-feely. Miles was a hugger by nature, but sometimes he could be excessive.

"Relax, bruv," Miles said quietly so only Lewis could hear. "You need to be honest with her and stop messing around. If you keep dragging your feet, you'll end up losing her to someone else."

"But she--"

"Lew, are we going to eat or are you two going to have a private conversation all night?" you interrupted playfully, causing Andrew and Tim to laugh.

Miles nudged Lewis towards the booth. "Go sit next to your girl and quit being a dickhead."

Lewis chuckled and playfully swatted him away before doing as he was told and sitting next to you. He placed an arm around the length of the seat, engulfing you with his closeness and the addictive smell of his cologne. "Get whatever you want, Y/N."

"Oh okay, big spender," you say as you peruse the menu, your eyes stopping at the wagyu. "What if I want this?"

Lewis made a face of disgust at your choice. "You know how I feel about meat, but if you want it, you can have it."

Smiling mischievously, you pointed out another expensive option. "And this too?"

Lewis shrugged. "Anything you want."

You raise an eyebrow at him and put the menu down. "Are you sure? Because I can keep going."

Lewis laughs, knowing exactly what you’re doing. "Okay, okay. Let’s not bankrupt me. You can get things within reason. I don’t want you to become a little brat."

"I’m almost there with the way you’ve been spoiling me lately," you said. "I mean, who flies out their hair braider in first class?"

Lewis chuckled as he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Well, I can't have my girl flying in economy."

"Your girl?" you scoff, rolling your eyes as you continue playing the game with him. Lewis has always been a flirt, and sometimes the two of you engage in playful banter, but it never goes beyond that. A small part of you can't help but wonder if all the rumors about him being great in bed are true, and the thought briefly crosses your mind to take things further. However, your professionalism always took precedence, and you kept a decorum between the two of you. "So what’re you? My Sugar Daddy?"

"If that's what you want, I can definitely make it happen." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"You wish," you teased, knowing that Lewis was not one to shy away from spending money on those he cared about.

The conversation continued to flow easily between the two of you, with Miles and the others occasionally interjecting with their own comments and jokes. You couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos and hectic schedule of race weekends.

As the night went on and dinner came to an end, Lewis insisted on paying for everything before escorting you out of the restaurant.

"Thanks for dinner," you said sincerely as Lewis walked you back to your suite. "I had a great time."

Lewis smiled warmly at you as he watched you open the door. "Anytime, Y/N. Can’t have my girl out here starving."

"There you go with the 'my girl' bullshit," you say. "I bet you say that to every woman you’re around."

"Nah," he replied. "Only to you. You’re my girl."

You gave him a quick examination, noting how his frame filled out his clothes. He appeared to have bulked up since the last time you saw him; clearly, he had been spending some serious time in the weight room. You were fully aware of Lewis' reputation as a womanizer and didn't want to be just another conquest, yet you couldn't deny his attractiveness. And with him staring at you with such intense focus, you felt yourself on the verge of giving in to temptation.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Honest answer?"

“Of course.”

"Just admiring you," you boldly stated, catching him a bit off-guard. "I’m surprised that you never tried anything with me. I mean, we flirt, but it never ends in anything."

Lewis looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest, but the serious expression on your face told him otherwise.

"Well, to be honest," he began, "I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You’re my hairstylist and I respect you."

"Is that all it is? Respect?" you inquired, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of your voice.

Lewis hesitated for a moment before reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course not," he said softly. "I think you're an amazing person. It's just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward between us."

"We're grown adults," you told him. "Trust me, I wouldn't be even considering this if I thought it was going to fuck up everything."

Lewis searched your face for any signs of hesitation or doubt, before finally nodding in understanding. "I know…and you have no idea how much…fuck Y/N…you have no idea how bad I want you."

"Then show me," you challenged.

Without hesitation, Lewis leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The passion and desire between you two was palpable as his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer to him. You eagerly responded, your own hands roaming over his muscular frame, feeling every inch of him.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away slightly, both of you gasping for air. "Wow," you breathed out, looking into Lewis' dark eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice low and husky. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time." Lewis rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Let's take this somewhere more private."

Nodding in agreement, you grabbed his hand and led him inside your suite, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, there was no slowing down. He lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed before crawling on top of you. His lips found yours again as his hands continued to explore every inch of your body. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed and nipped at your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Lewis' hands traveled down to your hips where he began to unzip your skirt. "You don't understand how bad I wanted to do this, especially with how you kept teasing me with these fuckin' skirts," he groaned, tossing the skirt aside before trailing kisses down your chest.

You let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands found their way under your shirt before he removed it and the bra you wore. His touch was electric, sending sparks through your body and igniting a fire within you. You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to leave a path of kisses down your body, finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

He looked up at you with dark eyes filled with desire and need before sliding them off of you. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his intense gaze, but he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way to your womanhood.

"Look at how wet this pussy is for me," he commented as he glanced at your glistening mound. "You’ve been craving a nigga badly, huh?"

You couldn't even form a coherent response as Lewis dipped his head between your legs, his tongue expertly finding all the right spots and sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You moaned and writhed under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came undone, it was with a loud cry of his name. He didn't stop there though, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive folds until you were begging him to stop.

"You taste so good," he murmured, licking his lips before crawling back up to kiss you again.

You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh and couldn't wait any longer. You reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"So impatient," he whispered against your lips.

"Shut up," was your response, making him chuckle. He stood up from the bed and quickly undressed himself before returning to hover over you.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, positioning himself at your entrance.

"I want you inside me," you moaned without hesitation.

Lewis didn't waste any time thrusting into you in one smooth motion. The feeling of being filled by him was almost overwhelming as he started moving in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him on as your nails dug into his back. He groaned as he felt your tight walls clenching around him. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He had imagined it a thousand times in his head, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

Lewis started moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he chased his own pleasure.

You couldn't believe how good it felt. You had been with other guys before, but none of them could compare to Lewis. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So fucking wet."

He leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while still pleasuring you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to feel even closer to him. The intensity was building inside you and you knew you were close to another climax.

Lewis must have sensed it too because he reached between your bodies to rub your clit while still thrusting into you and sucking your nipples. It was too much and you screamed his name as you came undone again, your body shaking with pleasure.

He followed closely after, his hips stuttering before finally stilling as he spilled himself inside of you.

You both stayed in that position for a few moments, catching your breaths and enjoying the afterglow of sex. Lewis rolled off of you eventually and pulled you close against his chest.

"Damn," he murmured into your hair. "That was amazing."

You smiled contentedly, feeling more connected to him than ever before.

"I can't believe I waited this long," he continued, placing soft kisses along your forehead. "I should have made a move on you ages ago."

You laughed softly and snuggled closer to him.

"Well I'm glad you finally did," you replied, feeling completely happy and satisfied in that moment.

The two of you spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, talking and laughing until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Lewis moving around. You stretched and smiled, feeling content and at peace.

"Good morning," Lewis said, walking into the bedroom with a mug of coffee. He handed it to you before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Morning," you replied, taking a sip of the hot drink. "Thank you for this."

He grinned. "Anything for my girl."

Your heart fluttered at his words, still not quite used to hearing him call you that, but it felt right and it made you smile even more.

Part Two, anyone? Let me know in the comments.

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #f1 x black!reader #formula one!black reader #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfiction

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 6 months

Text

How to Plant Snapdragons (pt. 4)

Task Force141 + König + Keegan x Female Criminal!Reader (except Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch, and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Captain Price confronts you but he ends up wanting to cut off his eardrums instead.

You are currently reading Chapter 4. Here is Chapter 3 and the Masterlist!

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language, Mentions of violence and smut (if you squint) WORD COUNT 3.1K

Your forehead was planted on the wall before you, slanting your whole body underneath the running shower. Warm water unraveled your skin and you watched the drops fall to the white tiles beneath you, eyes following the flow until the drain.

Then your eyes shifted to the annoying fucking beeping monitor around your ankle. It beeped and lit repeatedly, as though mocking you that you had nowhere to go and the bald eagle had his shackles on you.

You grumbled, raking your fingers on your wet locks and pulled. "Fuck you, Shepherd. I hope your pinky toe hits a table and you die in pain!" You exclaimed, throwing punches in the air until you extended too far and slammed your fist on the wall.

You whimpered in pain and held your hand, crouching down on the floor. "Ah, shit. You fucking dumbass," you cursed at yourself.

You winced as your knuckles throb. You gazed at it, furrowing your brows and scrunching your nose at its redness. It didn't look like you broke a bone, but they surely would bruise later.

You sighed at your stupidity and remained crouching on the floor, eyeing the fallen strands of your hair coiled on your toes.

Was it necessary for Shepherd to humiliate you in front of the Task Force? Then again, your decency had long been thrown to the sewers and never to be seen again. Eh, maybe the scary fucking shit of a clown was taking care of your decency while he was taking a bath with the water mixed with piss and diarrhea from people's toilets in those canals, just like how he took care of children.

Not.

The General was merely a sadistic son of Gollum with a God complex. Seemingly a good guy but would throw his soldiers on the battlefield like chess pawns and replaceable toys he had gotten on Target on a Tuesday night in a bob cut wig, a cow onesie, and platform heels while taking a swig from the bottle of Bourbon he stole from the shelves.

Then, he’d play with them like a kid throwing toy tanks around, an awful whirring sound coming out of his throat like a goat going 'BLEEEEEEEAAAUGHHHH RATATATATA RATATATA!' as gun noises, lining up his green plastic soldiers like from Toy Story to go on war with Barbies and dinosaurs he stole from his neighbors.

Then, on his prissy little walk, he found another toy on the road.

You.

The bitch-ass scoundrel of an egghead caught you, only to throw you out and let his lap dog handle you (at least, his dog was better).

You were sure Gaz had noticed your hands and Soap had felt the way you shuddered earlier today. Price had kept his gaze on Shepherd, eyes narrowing the whole time, and Ghost, with the way he went around the table so he could observe every inch of you.

It would be more surprising if these people said to be dangerous as hell, failed to notice your stiffness the whole time you talked with the old man.

But that was the plan.

You wiggled your toes to remove the hair and stood up, a smile appearing on your lips as thoughts hit your mind.

You began to remember some scenes in BL manhwas you had read before, specifically taking place in the shower, where the top would be running his hand on the bottom's thighs and—

And . . .

AND YOUR FREAKING DRAWINGS WERE IN PRICE'S OFFICE!

You turned the shower off. "Shit." You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around you. "Shit, shit!" You hauled another towel and wrapped it on your head.

You rushed out of the bathroom, almost slipping on the floor because of the water droplets, then padded towards your closet. You only had a few pairs of clothes with you, most of them were bought by Kate when she was looking after you.

You slipped on a hoodie that you had to fight Laswell to let you bring and cargo pants, but the ankle monitor was a bitch and wouldn't let you tuck in your pants. In the end, you just folded up the hem of the pants above the monitor and did the same to the other.

If only you weren't going to the Captain's office, you would have worn shorts that you were required to wear for physical training. But rules were equally a bitch and you weren't allowed to do it. Because bruh, they didn't know the struggles of someone with a bigass ankle monitor that would go wee-woo wee-woo! like goddamn ambulance whenever you set foot outside the building without Soap slamming on you as if you were in a bloody wrestling match.

But then again, people here weren't criminals (or maybe they had already committed a crime, but no one caught them doing it), and you had no right to complain about how things go.

You slammed the door open and screamed at the person before you. "Jesus!" Before you knew it, your palm planted on the person's face, making them stumble back upon impact. Only when a hat landed on your feet and the person brought their hand to their cheek, did you realize it was Price, who stared at you with an open mouth and wide eyes.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA—" You dropped to your knees and clasped your hands. "Oh my god, sir, captain, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried and dipped your head low. "Please, don't bring me back to Shepherd!"

"That's not . . ." His low voice trailed off as he gazed down at you, frowning at how you didn't even hesitate to kneel before him, as though you had done this before.

What the fuck did Shepherd do to you?

He sighed and reached down to you. "Get up, young lady—"

"Didn't know ye were into havin' someone on their knees before ye, sir," a deep voice in a thick Scottish accent echoes from the hallway.

You and Price turned to where the voice came from, and in a blink, the captain dashed towards the sergeant, giving him a good knee on the stomach.

A couple of flashes went off as Soap coughed in pain. Behind him, Gaz and Ghost had their phones out.

Aye, ladies and gentlemen, the dangers to be reckoned with, Task Force 141!

You cupped a hand beside your mouth and shouted, "Well fucking deserved, macrooster!"

"Hah?!" Soap whipped his head in your way, eyes bulging out. "What'd ya call me?!"

"I said, do better, Mactavish!”

"That's not what ya said!"

“Why are you three here?” Price questioned, pulling Soap back up to his feet.

“We’re going to ask her to play Uno with us,” Gaz answered, walking past them and sauntering towards you. You flashed him a soft smile, which he returned and extended a hand to you. You grabbed the Captain’s hat by your feet and clasped Gaz’s hand, letting him pull you up as though you weighed nothing. You put Price’s hat on him, tilting it down to hide his eyes, making a low laugh leave his lips. “C’mon now, hun.”

Ey, wadafak?

Did this guy—dead-ass beautiful guy, who was definitely the Captain’s favorite son, one who still hadn’t strangled the shit out of you, which you wished he would do already so you could feel his thighs and biceps and pecs—called you hun? Oh, you’d suck his dick right now, leave kisses on every inch of his body like your life depended on it, moan his name, and let him have you in the way he wanted until all the walls were white.

But that would be bad. Real bad. Because: One, Shepherd would lock you up again. Two, Shepherd would paint the room red with your blood. Three, you’d be Phillip Grave’s slave again. Four . . . 141 would hate you.

You were used to being told flattering words and getting cat-called, and most of the time, it didn’t end well. For them.

But Gaz, well, he could get away with it, and Soap.

Price raised a brow. “Where’d you get . . .”

“Confiscated it from the rookies.” Soap rubbed his stomach and frowned at the reddened spot shaped like a hand on the older man’s cheek. “What happened to yer face, Cap’n?”

You averted your gaze, which Gaz noticed as he fixed the hat on his head. A small smirk appeared on his lips, knowingly eyeing you.

"Nothing." Price cleared his throat and marched back to you, followed by Soap and Ghost, who you realized was holding a small cardboard box.

Was that filled with Uno cards they confiscated or something?

Pushing the thought back, you looked up at the Captain. "Uh, I apologize, sir, but may I ask what brings you here?"

"I want to have a word with you," he replied immediately, causing his soldiers to raise their brows in question. "Preferably in private." He nodded at the dark, empty hallway behind him.

“Oh, if that’s an order coming from you sir,” you nodded, “then of course.”

Price shook his head. “Not an order, but I deem it more important.”

You calmly nodded, keeping your eyes at the intensity of his gaze. “Of course, sir.”

Price turned to the rest of his team and patted Soap’s shoulder. “You can play Uno later. I won’t keep her too long.” With that, he glanced at you as a sign to follow him and marched away.

You shot a smile at the three, before jogging after the Captain. He kept a steady pace, not fast to let you keep up with his big steps yet not slow, so it wouldn’t take long to where he wanted to lead you which was definitely not his office. Only your footfalls could be heard in the hallway, whereas in the daytime, it was usually bustling with soldiers. You stared at his broad back and heaved out a sigh. Somewhat, you had a feeling of what the conversation would be.

“Frankly, I don’t trust you,” he said, deep voice echoing in the hallway along with your footsteps.

You couldn’t help but smile at his back. Goddamn, straight to the point.

“We do not know where you’re from, you have a criminal record, and we’re not sure why Shepherd put you in my Task Force.” He halted before a door, turning to you in a blink that you almost bumped into him if you hadn’t reacted fast enough. “But there must be a reason why he called you a ‘tool’.”

You pursed your lips, sighing again. You shook your head and met him directly in the eyes. “I’ll also be frank, sir. I hate being called a ‘tool’. I am human, just like the rest of you, although I may be different from the kind of people you were used to being around. I can’t blame you for being suspicious and untrustworthy. But I assure you, I am here to work.”

His eyes narrowed. “Work?” He repeated. “Work for Shepherd as his spy? Work to foil our missions? Work to assassinate the Task Force?”

You simply stared at him. “No, sir. I’m here to help you.”

“Oh, but the Task Force is enough without you,” he said, watching your unwavering gaze. During the past week, he had observed you from the sidelines, not getting as close as the three did but still laughed along with the rest of you at the right times. Your laid-back demeanor, smiles and laughs seemed genuine, yet he couldn’t see what your eyes had beheld and couldn’t discern what circles in your mind. But he was sure of one thing, those weren't the eyes of a mere criminal.

“I . . . I mean, if we do the math, five is better than four in quantity—but I guess, you’re talking about quality and yeah, I’ve heard enough stories about why Task Force 141 is dangerous,” you rambled, shrugging.

He almost pulled a face had he not remembered this was technically an interrogation. Why on earth were you talking about math?

He leaned down a bit. “If I happen to know you’re here to bring harm to us, I’m telling you now,” he paused and pointed at you, “you’ll wish you’re dead.”

He then swiftly turned and opened the door, a range welcoming your sight.

You had heard of threats like that a few times before. It was certainly overused, but it never got old, because either it became true or it became a laughable warning to those who couldn’t make it true.

You had heard Shepherd and Graves state that while you were on a chair, hands, and ankles bound in chains on a chair in the middle of a small, dimly lit room with roaches and spiders partying around. You could remember the screws, pliers, and other tools scattered on the floor, creating clangs each time they were dropped, splattering blood on the floor. And every time they did, all they could hear after was a wheezy laugh from your lips, commenting on how cheap they were to use those tools.

But this time, you couldn’t laugh.

Because this man just let you stand before him and let you walk behind him as if he didn’t even consider you could stab him in the back. He didn’t back away when he had a pocket knife peeking out of his pockets that you could simply grab and drive to his throat, then go for the rest of his team.

It should have been laughable, and yet, you admired him for not keeping you restrained for not knowing what you knew and could do. You admired him for being head-on, instead of making you hear a bland-ass monologue that could make you sleepy like some kid.

You admired him for his words that meant he'd kill for the safety of Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.

Now this was a gamble you were willing to take on.

“By the way, sir,” you followed him in, “are you going to make me your target? I don’t think I can dodge all the bullets you’re going to fire at me.

He pulled a face, his nose scrunching. “No.”

“Are we having a competition? I like competitions.”

“. . . No.”

“I thought you said this won’t take long, sir. It’s been eight minutes and forty-nine seconds, fifty seconds, fifty-one—”

For the first time in his life, Jonathan Price wanted to slam his head on a concrete.

The plane descended on the runway and brought harsh, cold winds slashing in every direction, beating the falling snow out of the way.

You sat on the hood of the jeep Price used to bring the group, feet swinging back and forth and watching the plane turn. You gathered your hair in a couple of French braids, before tying them into a bun. You had worn a headset, given by Captain Price, but that wasn't enough to keep your ears from the cold, unlike the rest of your body covered in layers of thick clothes, but still light enough to move around swiftly.

You kept your gloved hands in the pocket of your jacket, pursing your lips as the blades of the plane came to a stop. A stair was placed in front of the door before it slid open and a familiar man climbed down.

Phillip Graves, the Shadow himself.

Blond hair parted from the left as usual, but instead of a shirt, he had worn a jacket under his vest to fight off the cold. He still had the fucking collar microphone thing around his neck, though. Like a good dog.

Price walked forward, meeting the commander halfway, and extended a gloved hand towards him. "Graves, good to work with you again."

"Likewise, Captain." Phillip gave his hand a shake, before quickly taking his own back, and shot a glance at you. "Hope someone isn't making your life a living hell."

Price chuckled, his breath coming out as white puffs. "No, not really."

"Well, don't expect it to last." The Shadow scoffed and walked over to your direction with the Captain. Without batting an eye this time, he greeted the Sergeants and Lieutenant, shaking their hands, patting their shoulders as though they were brothers-in-arms.

You huffed at the friendly smile on his face, kind of glad to have a new person (not really) to annoy around, and shifted your gaze at the men in black following out of the chopper.

You grinned, eyes turning crescent, but just as you hopped down from the hood to run towards them, a hand grabbed your arm. You faced Ghost, who stared at you in silence, but that was enough to tell what he wanted to say. "I'm just going to greet the Shadows," you said.

"I don't think they like to talk with ya," Ghost claimed, his eyes shifting to the contractors who all remained standing at the bottom of the stairs. He let go of you. Or maybe, they didn't want him to talk to them. Could be both, though.

"Your sinister face is enough to greet them," Phillip declared, swiveling to you with a serious face.

You turned, mirroring his expression. "Nice to see you too, Phillip," you responded and raked your eyes from his face and down to his boots. You painted a smile on your face, bringing your gaze up to his face. "Have you been working out? It seems you've gotten bigger." You stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "Can't wait to have you under me again."

The Task Force and Graves simultaneously furrowed their brows upon hearing your words, a question going in their brains. Wadafak?

Soap couldn't help but stare at your condescending smirk with his lips slightly parted in disbelief. What the actual fucking fuckity fuck? Did he hear that right? Did you actually shag this American? Well, not that he was concerned, but it seemed you didn't have a good relationship with him considering the way you tensed up before Shepherd and Graves' mere pictures back at the meeting a couple of days ago. Wait—were you actually into Graves instead but the man was so devoted to the General and you hated that? Bloody steaming Jesus.

Graves shook off your hand and stepped away, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t touch me."

"Okay." You backed away to Ghost's side, waving a hand and pulling a face. "Sensitive."

"Are we boarding the same vehicle?" Gaz questioned, turning the attention to him.

"Yes, General Shepherd said it would be better if we discuss the mission more thoroughly," Graves immediately answered, gesturing at the plane. "Currently, one of mine is piloting it.”

"Good," Price nodded in acknowledgment and walked away. "Let's get going, 141."

It was nice to hear him refer to you as part of the group, but you knew it was just a facade he decided to keep after the gamble you took a couple of nights ago.

And he made one thing clear, share the prize or pay the price.

The Chapter 5 is here!

You can also read the series on AO3 here!

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @sae1kie, @sarahedwards16

Note: EARLY UPDATE FOR Y'ALL CUZ IT'S MY BDAY!!! Ngl, I'd let Gaz rail me because it's Gaz (look at Elliot Knight, guys, man's fucking beautiful). Also, we're adding Keegan.

215 notes · View notes

ravencincaide · 6 months

Text

Surprise, You son of a-

Summary: You acquired a stalker. A man who harmed those around you, but never touched or approached you. The plan was for you to play bait, lure him and mace him. Then Dazai would take care of the rest. Unfortunately there was just one thing you did not calculate with…

Pairing: Dazai x fem!reader (x dark/ Yandere Chuuya)

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 7: Sharing clothes

Warnings: Cursing, abduction and drugs, stalking, mention of sexual content including hint/mention of non-con, voyeurism and questionable consent. Insanity- if you really try. It’s dark, okay?

Enjoy?

_____________________________________________________________

“ I think you’re right, this might actually work!” You exclaimed excitedly as you stared at yourself in the mirror; you were dressed in a pair of light pants and a white shirt. Over it, you borrowed your boyfriend's vest- a dark thing that was just a tad too long coming down to your midthigh. And over it his beige coat, which too was oversized, the sleeves coming past your fingertips and the coat itself stopped mere inches above the ground. Though you didn’t necessarily think it a bad thing, the less of your body that was visible the better. You had gathered your hair up into braids which you then shifted around your head, hiding them beneath the wig cap and the dark brown wig which almost matched Dazai’s shade.

The rest was just bandages and make up.

You both noticed that you were not a perfect replica of Dazai; too feminine even with all the binding, wrong hair lengths and colour, wrong height and paler complexion, but you both reasoned that no one would be looking too closely. At least not the one this disguise was intended for.

“ See Y/N, I told you it wouldn’t be an issue to get you to look exactly like a lady kill-aouch” Dazai hollered in pain as you pinched him, sending him a warning glare not to re-attempt to finish that sentence. The grin you got in return made you wonder if the physical pain was actually a punishment to him- or foreplay.

Rather than find out you turned your attention back towards the mirror, your fingers moving to fidgeting with the wig. You were playing ignorant to his advances. This earned you a dramatic sigh, as if you were crushing his heart. “ Ohh Belladonna why must you be so cruel to me, my love? If only you’d fulfill my humble request of–

“ No We’re not turning this into some self-cestious kink-exploration for you.” you cut him off with a warning glare as your hands finally left your wig and grasped the can of mace from your nightstand. You brought it close to yourself, the control-freak part of you wondering if it worked and a rational part of you reminding you that it was best not to find out.

Especially inside.

Sensing your nervousness Dazai came up and rested his hand on top of yours, a moment of seriousness on his face. “ It will go fine Bella” he promised “ I’ll be right behind you. You just need to lure him into an alley and spray the mace. I’ll handle the rest.” Then a quick peck on the lips, which made you smile.

You leaned forward and gave him a slightly deeper kiss salvaging the closeness. Before it could go too far you broke it off and pushed some rogue strands out of his face, staring at him with all the love in your heart. You were so lucky to have him. “ You know If this works and we get rid of this stalking sun of a biscuit quickly we’ll have plenty of time to take a version of this outfit for a ride in bed- what do you think?”

You were met with a Cheshire’s grin, Dazai’s lips on yours while he carefully walked you backwards towards your front door. “ Then let's get this over and done with Belladonna” he purred before he opened the front door and shoved you out before slamming it in your face, in your typical- he’s-annoyed-you-enough-fashion.

You stumbled, caught yourself before you made an act of clingy Dazai; banging on the door, a fake cry of ‘why Belladonna why’ before dancing away to the sound of Dazai laughing through the wood.

You just hoped he didn’t blow it.

The act was about as perfect as your appearance; but you hoped it was enough to fool your stalker. After all this was a man who never got close to you and never approached you- from what you could tell at least. But he did seem to hold a grudge towards anyone who dared visit your apartment. In fact, if he hadn’t hurt one of your childhood friends a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have even noticed his existence. Now however you felt like you were watched wherever you went. Yet no matter how hard you looked you never saw him.

Dazai suggested turning this game of cat-and-mouse around; they’d still think they were the pray and be too blind to notice they were walking right into a trap. The only thing you had to do was pretend to be Dazai and lure him away and disarm him, then your boyfriend who’d follow from a distance, would take care of the rest. You shuddered slightly when you thought over what ‘the rest’ meant. But decided against asking.

Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

As you left your apartment complex you headed down into the half busy streets in a rather relaxed fashion, arms folded above your head, using the sleeves of the coat as a way to keep another part of your face obscured. Your eyes flickered from one person to another; teenagers sharing candy in the corner of the street, a young couple shopping together and a bunch of punks trying to trick an older teen into buying them cigarettes. There were some elderly too enjoying the warm weather, sharing pleasantries and complaining about how things have changed from their youths.

No one looked particularly threatening and you were beginning to think your charades failed. Just when you were about to turn back around you sensed it; that bone chilling feeling of being watched. You resisted the urge to look around or pick up your pace as you turned off the main road and towards a smaller street filled with tiny mom and pop shops- the route Dazai told you to follow. The narrow street drew less attention and had several decent obscured alleys. You kept your pace slow, listening closely. About a minute after you turned into the alley you heard the fast click clack of dress shoes behind you.

Bingo.

You heard the steps grow closer and quickly rounded a corner towards an even smaller alley. One step, then you pressed your back against the wall, mace in hands. Your eyes closed as you focused on silencing your breathing. Seconds ticked in your head as the footsteps grew closer and closer, growing faster, eager to not let you out of sight.

3, 2, 1 .

You jumped out back onto the larger alley. “ Buu you son of a –” you yelled, pressing down on the mace and spraying for a good thirty seconds. It wasn’t until it was too late that you realized who the figure doubling in pain was. But when you did, you dropped your weapon with a bewildered cry.

Clang of the metal echoed against the walls as the mace rolled away out of sight.

“ Chuuya what the? I’m so sorry!” You started taking a step towards him. Then as you felt your eyes burn you quickly moved back again and ran a hand through the wig trying to mask your embarrassment.

“ I-its okay Y/N” he coughed a few times waving his hand in an attempt to get some clean air into his lungs. It took him surprisingly little time to completely recover. The only trace of your little attack being a redness around his eyes and a slightly runny nose which he took care of with a clean handkerchief. Now his attention was on you, his look clearly demanding to know what the hell you were up to.

You just shook your head a no- it was best not to ask. “ I’m so sorry again” you mumbled feeling incredibly stupid. “ Come, let me get you a cup of tea as an apology.”

Chuuya raised his hand as if to say not to worry about it. Then he lowered it and flashed you a smirk; “ Only if we can agree on coffee”

“ Deal!” you exclaimed before taking a look around. Realizing you were still in the alley you turned on your heel and continued heading straight towards the exit.

At the corner there would be this wonderful little shop that sold all sorts of imported coffee and coffee-based treats. It was one of the pricier shops in the area so you deemed that it would be good enough to suit the executives tastes. Chuuya followed you, however rather than walk right beside you he kept a step or two behind you. You glanced up at him, then carefully glanced behind him towards the alley entrance with slight confusion.

You still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched- the icy cold dread in the pit of your stomach which grew with each step that you took. A warning bell was going off in your head but you couldn’t quite place a finger on why. The notion was ridiculous after all, Chuuya was your friend.

“ What are you doing here, Chuuya?” You asked, making small talk. Suddenly you paused mid step as the sense of dread became overbearing. Dazai should have caught up with you already.

But he didn't. Why?

Did it mean that the stalker saw through your charade? Impossible. You weren’t perfect but you knew the act was good. You and Dazai had practiced for hours and even fooled Atsushi with it when you took it for a test-run. No, the act was good enough. Unless your target knew Dazai very well. Say, like the back of their hand, familiar with every single mannerism of his down to the way he walked, talked and breathed. If that were the case they’d first prevent your boyfriend from helping you and then, “ Say Chuuya, Dazai was your twin dark. You’d have realized I’m not him unless-”

You never got to finish your sentence as a sweet scent filled your senses a second before Chuuya took one larger step closing the distance between you. He clasped a cloth over your nose and mouth. His other hand wrapped around you in an iron grip, keeping you in place and restraining your struggles. You screamed and screamed, trying to bite the cloth away from yourself, your fingers clawing at his hands. But with each scream you inhaled more of the substance. You could feel your body growing weaker on you- betraying you.

It was no use.

“ I’m sorry Y/N, you’re too smart for your own good” Chuuya whispered in your ear as dark dots played in your vision “ You should have just left it alone- you really should have.” That was the last thing you heard as you passed out, praying that Dazai would find you..

Your head was killing you, like a thousand woodpeckers pecking away at your skull. Your body felt heavy, groggy and your limbs refused to cooperate properly. You silently cursed yourself as you tried to pry your eyes open. The mixture of medicines in your body fighting with you, trying to keep you under. What was it? Anastesia? Were you under an operation? No, it was something else, something else and chloroform. You knew chloroform, you’d recognize it anywhere; the sickly sweet smell that made your stomach turn. So why didn’t you recognize it before it was too late?

Because it was Chuuya.

The thought made you angry and with it came a burst of adrenaline: snapping your eyes open, you sat up in one quick motion before you felt your stomach turn. You clutched it, uncertain whether whatever you ate that morning was going to stay inside you or not. The world span, the colors twisting and fleeting into one another making the unfamiliar objects around you almost indistinguishable. One thing you were certain though; this wasn’t a hospital, your room or any kind of mom and pop shop.

You heard a sound, someone rushing to your side and then felt an arm quickly wrap around your shoulders steadying you. A hand was on your back, rubbing up and down “ Shhh shh shh, not so quickly Y/N, you need more rest, you’ll feel better soon I promise.” You tried to focus on the voice as another wave of nausea rolled over you. On instinct you curled more in on yourself trying to make the world stop spinning

“ Wanna throw up Sweetheart or are you good?”

That nickname made you freeze. You shook your head making a weak attempt at pushing him away from yourself. Damn traitor was what you wanted to call him but all that came out was a pitiful “ njah”

You felt something cool press to your lips before he tilted you back slightly. “ Just water. Drink, it will help clear your head.”

The water splashed against your lips, a drop rolling down your chin. You resisted the temptation. You heard Chuuya sigh before he moved. He shifted the glass more, giving it a deeper angle. The glass pressing past your lips, the water now almost slipping down your throat. You had no choice, so you drank, feeling instant relief. The water felt soothing, like a miracle for a dying man and you could feel your stomach settling down. Almost too quickly it finished, yet you were too stubborn to ask him for another. You felt so tired again, to the point you barely noticed as he lowered you back in bed and covered you with a blanket.

You were out cold in seconds.

The next time you woke up, you felt well enough to take in your surroundings. You were in an unfamiliar room, laying on a rather large bed with a metal headboard. You could see cuffs dangling from above your head, one set on either side, yet your arms were free, resting beside you beneath a thin fuzzy blanket. You guessed the room wasn’t very big but didn’t dare turn your head and check. Not yet. You could hear him breathing a few paces away and did not want to risk having to look at that traitorous hypocritical bastard without proper assessment of your state.

When you shifted your legs,you felt the cold metal of the cuff cutting into your right ankle and heard the shift of the metal chain. It was heavy, so much you could say. You doubted you’d be able to break it with sheer force. Your fingers inched towards your pockets, still icy cold and somewhat slow in their movement. As they brushed against your clothes you realized you were still in Dazai’s attire and cursed silently in your head. Then you drew in a deeper breath and closed your eyes, thinking of your next move.

“ Don’t try to use your ability” you heard Chuuya’s voice ring loud and clear a small distance away from you. “ It’s a government chain, you’ll only end up hurting yourself if you try.” You didn’t grace him with a reply. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued speaking” I’m sorry I had to take your gun away. I couldn’t have you do anything stupid”

Before you knew it you were back in a sitting position. “ What the fuck do you mean stupid? And why the hell are you doing this.” You yelled at Chuuya who was sitting on a chair a good distance away from your bed. His legs were crossed, his hands resting on top of them palms up. His usual jacket was not on him; it hung casually across the back of another chair with his hat on top. On that second chair was a tray of food, a flimsy bottle of water and a handful of pills in a small white paper cup.

“ I know it's hard to see it right now, but I’m not here to hurt you Y/N. I’m here to help” He said each word slowly and calmly, clearly hoping to soothe you.

Your face shifted into an expression of bewilderment and anger “ Help me? How does beating up my friend and then abducting me ‘help me’ Chuuya? How?!”

“ Because Y/N you’re so caught up in Dazai’s webb you’ve stopped caring about yourself and your future. You just bow your head to his every beck and call and that’s not you” he stated as he leaned to the side and lifted up the tray moving it closer to you.

“ What are you–” Your sentence got caught in your throat as you took a look, finally took a look at Chuuya. He was older than what you remembered him to be. More worn out perhaps? There wasn’t a hint of a smile on his lips, not even a smirk or a grin. His lips were just set in a straight line, slightly white from how hard he was pressing them together in barely contained anger. But it was his eyes that shook you down to your core; the normally vibrant shimmering blue orbs which put even the sky to shame as they glistered with a wide range of emotion were completely empty. They were a hollow blue grey shade- a shell of their former self. “ Chuuya what did you do?”

Your question put him in a frenzy, the way you looked at him, as if he was the monster was killing whatever sliver of light that was left in him; “ Don’t think I haven’t seen you Y/N, haven’t seen you cry your eyes out when slimy Dick’s not home cuz he’s fucking another woman.” Chuuya’s hollow eyes stared down at you, his lips pulled up into a sadistic sneer “ or when he forces you to take him whenever or whenever, or pressures you to agree to whatever shit his mind comes up and you’re crying both during and after Y/N. Don’t think I haven’t seen you. Ugly sobbing and all. It’s not right Sweetheart. It isn’t”

You gaped: your mouth opening and closing like a fish, your cheeks dusting a light pink, words stuck in your throat. They were refusing to come out. You didn’t know where to even begin, or how you were going to reason with him.

Chuuya wasn’t finished, however.

He moved closer, his gloved hand slowly inching towards you. “ But I’d never disrespect you like that sweetheart, never force you or hurt you. I’d never abandon you- you know that the bastard pretty much gave you away to me? ”

“ Dazai would never” you glared darkly at him. As his fingers grazed your cheek you flinched and turned away putting distance between you. The action made Chuuya sigh heavily and move back, running that hand through his hair. He looked bitter.

“ You think? The mackerel served you up to me in his attire with an added comment ‘you can have my left overs.’ slimy bandages. And you still think he cares for you?” He was shaking as he stared down at you. Chuuya took a deep breath before his voice took on a sad, heartbroken tone.” While I’ve always been here, waiting and waiting ready to sweep you off your feet and yet you’re eyes were only on him”

“ Dazai isn’t- he wouldn’t.”

“ Dazai this, Dazai that. Even now when we both know he’s already balls deep in another woman! And you’re still relying on him hah-!” Chuuya shook his head before something seemed to change in him, the contained anger spilling into something dark and full of malice- “- You think I’m smaller than him, is that it?! That somehow that womanizing bastard is better in bed? That only he can satisfy you ehh? Is that why?” Chuuya yelled, his hands landing away from his hair, dangerously close to his belt.

At that moment, for the first time that night, you realized that you were in danger. Real actual danger. This wasn't Chuuya, the sweet hot-tempered ginger man whom you’d share stories and dirty jokes with over a glass of wine. This was a man with slipping sanity capable of anything. His eyes alone were an atonement to that. Those hollow blue orbs told you that if you didn’t think fast enough you’d learn on your own skin- your own pussy- how far he was willing to go to have you.

You moved, launching forward as far as the chain would let you and pressed both hands on top of his larger ones, trying to get him to leave his belt alone. “ No not at all, I must be still a bit hazy after the drug. I didn't mean to upset you.”

He didn’t react, his fingers finishing pulling the edge of the belt out of the first loop and starting to fiddle with the clasp.

You tightened your hold on his arm. Your heart beating loudly in your ears. You thought you were going to throw up. Maybe you should- maybe it would disgust him enough to make him stop. No, a little voice in your head told you. All that could do was enrage him more. And that would end up making it worse on yourself.

“ I’m definitely still not clear in the head, so lets talk some more later please Chuuya, please stop” You called to him, leaning more of your weight onto him. That didn’t stop him, if anything it made you more aware of the growing tension in his pants.

Fuck.

You needed a plan- a way out and you needed it now. However each plea and logical call fell on deaf ears and you were in no condition to fight him. Ability or not he’d overpower you in seconds. You were running out of options and this was your last card to keep yourself safe;

You forced your mind to think of each embarrassing and humiliating memory until your cheeks glowed a dark red. Then you tilted your head down, faking a shy appearance.“ but you wouldn’t want our first time together like this, right? All dry and then bloody. And me passing out and missing out on the fun mid-way through, right?” You felt his movements grow less erratic and continued; “ So would you let me rest a few hours more, clear my head a bit, please? Please Chuu'' you pleaded

You glanced up at him, staring up with big pleading eyes. You saw the newly made nickname stir something in those hollow orbs. Like a spark of life glimpsing through insanity.

“ Please Chuu” you pleaded again, continuing to stare at him, praying that this was enough. A moment passed, two, three before he let his hands drop away from his pants.

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from flinching as he raised a hand and rested it on the back of your head, then he leaned forward pressing a long kiss on your forehead. “ You’re right, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, it was so selfish of me. You need your rest. And I need to get you something comfortable to wear- slimy mackerel clothing really does not suit you.” With those words he turned around as if nothing happened and grabbed the hat and jacket from the back of the chair.

He paused in the doorway long enough to wish you sweet dreams and tell you not to eat what he brought earlier, and that he’ll be back later with some fresh food and water for when you’ve had your rest. Then he left. As the door clasped shut you heard the automatic lock kick in, shutting you in place. Then two more additional ones; a chain and a key.

Slumping back into the bed you curled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms tightly around them. Tears were running down your cheeks in steady unpretty streams.

You bought yourself a few hours tops but what were you supposed to do then?

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #dazai x you #dazai x reader #sweetober #chuuya yandere #yandere #obssessive #abduction

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spark-my-nature · 1 month

Text

Watered Down - JTK

WC: 7.6K | Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content! (Vaginal fingering, handjobs, penetrative sex, dirty talk, lmk if I missed anything!)

Your friend is wasting all your hot water, but if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?

-------- ⭐︎☽⭐︎☾⭐︎ --------

What is taking him so long in there?

You shifted again on the edge of your bed while the steady rainfall from the shower across the hall droned on. After the soft click of the door closing, water had begun running almost the second you’d woken up, inhibiting you from your morning duties, and the little culprit had yet to emerge.

After the usual depraved nonsense that you got up to with Jake on a Friday evening, he’d looked at you, upside-down and disoriented from the indented couch cushion, with his sleepy puppy dog eyes, asking if he could just stay the night.

“Don’ wanna drive,” he’d mumbled into the throw pillow, already tugging your throw blanket off the back of the cushions. As if his driving was even on the table in his current state.

As if you could deny him, so adorably snuggled up to your wrinkled, inside-out, oversized hoodie, balled up like a makeshift teddy bear under his chin. Besides, your sleepy, intoxicated partner in crime had already fluttered his obnoxiously long eyelashes closed, soft snores rumbling out of his button nose occasionally. You’d sat there, back against the footrest of the lazy boy with your knees supporting your chin, just watching him for longer than you can remember or care to think about.

But as you wiggled again, the pressure of your bladder screaming at you for relief, you cursed at the bastard currently occupying your only bathroom.

Seriously, who showered for… you checked your phone for the time.

34 minutes?

He may be diligent about hygiene, but he was still just a man, after all. There’s only so much grooming he could do, especially in YOUR shower.

Whimpering with discomfort, and a little irritability, you shoved off the bed, shuffling to the bathroom door.

“Jacob! Y’almost done?” you called, listening for a second.

Silence.

You huffed, bringing your knuckles to the door, rapping at the wood quickly.

“Jake, c’mon, I gotta pee,” you tried again, shifting your weight.

Still, you heard nothing but the white noise of the overhead fan and the shower. You shoved down a brief flutter of worry when a faint mumbled curse echoed off the tub walls.

He hadn’t drowned, then.

Well, you had tried to get his attention, to warn him. And the shower curtain was opaque, it’s not like you’d see anything. You reasoned he had made his own bed by being a little shower hog.

You twisted the knob, cracking the door open, immediately affronted with steam. Knocking the door frame again for good measure, you called again, “Jake?”

This time, Jake gasped, startled behind the curtain, making you giggle an apology after his shout of surprise, pushing the door open.

“What- Hey! I’m- …showering in here,” he cried, the shower curtain rings clanging as he stretched it to each end, sealing the corners to your eyes.

“Yeah, no shit, for the last four hours. I’m dying here, Jacob, do you remember how much we drank last night?” Flipping up the toilet lid, you unbuttoned your pants. “Don’t look,” you ordered.

Jake scoffed, sounding a little winded, strained. “Not a problem,” he retorted.

Shoving your sleep pants down, you quickly relieved yourself, trying not to think too hard about your naked, totally platonic, definitely no tension between you at all, best friend behind the thin curtain.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve avoided an interaction this weirdly intimate by all costs, but Jake was your best friend at the end of the day. He’d held your hair as you’d thrown up, he’d nursed you through a nasty bout of flu with his homemade soup and medicine, he’d been the one to rip the wax strip off your leg when you got too scared of the pain.

You guys were unshakeable, you knew he wasn’t gonna wig out from you relieving yourself.

That said, you could tell he was just standing there, rigid behind the curtain as you speedily made yourself decent and closed the lid. “You know, you didn’t have to stop just because I had to pee,” you chuckled.

“I can’t- will you get out of here so I can just get out?” He sighed.

Something in his tone sounded defeated, frustrated. You furrowed your brow, eyeing the curtain. “Wait, what’s the matter?”

Barking a humorless laugh, Jake fired back, “That’s a joke, right?”

“Hey, don’t be mean, I’m sorry I interrupted your precious shower time, Princess,” you bit back. “It’s not my fault there’s only one bathroom.”

Jake was quiet for a second, and you were seconds away from apologizing again before he replied incredulously, “I’m not- no, not because you had to pee, you goose.”

Chuckling, you crossed your arms. “Okay, well! What then?”

Jake’s shadow shuffled awkwardly behind the curtain, scoffing again awkwardly.

“Sweetheart. C’mon. Put two and two together, please.” He snapped his fingers impatiently.

Your eyes suddenly widened, and you blushed furiously, your grip tightening around your own arm as you rubbed awkwardly up and down your sleeve. “oh-“ you coughed, “you- …oh.”

Jake snorted. “Finally she clues in.”

“Well how was I supposed to know?!” You started giggling, a quick peek in the fogged up mirror confirming the pink flush adorning your cheeks.

Jake laughed, slapping a hand to his forehead. “How could you not know?”

“Well why are you- why in the shower?”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing that on your couch!”

You giggled again, rubbing at your cheek shyly, biting your lip. Definitely not thinking about it, absolutely not thinking about…

Jake continued, “I mean, I didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing it at all, but you are still fucking standing there-“

“Did you finish?”

“…No, I didn’t fucking finish,” he hissed teasingly, “and if you’re not gonna join me in here, then kindly get out.” You could hear the mirthful smile in his voice, and knowing your best friend like you did, you knew he was fully expecting you to take his joke at face value and to leave him alone with a final comeback.

That nagging best-friend-intuition was also sounding alarm bells though. Because as he joked, long-suffering ire in his voice, you also detected a rough edge beneath the surface.

With the completely and utter faith that nothing would be catastrophic enough to scare Jake off at this point, you threw caution to the wind.

“What if… what if I do join you?”

Jake hesitated, before chuckling shyly. “…oh, shut up,” he disbelievingly teased.

You blushed, “No, Jake, I-…” you giggled nervously, shyly finishing, “I’m serious. Y’know, if- if you are.”

Another pause, and you couldn’t remember ever being so nervous in your life until-

“Uhh… y-yeah. Yeah, okay,” his breathy voice gaining confidence, “get in here, then.”

Heart pounding, you grinned, “yeah?”

He chuckled, his shape behind the curtain moving, presumably rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, c’mon in, darling, the water’s fine,” he flirted nervously.

You breathed in deep, mindfully relaxing your tense shoulders, and tugged your shirt over your head. You kept your eyes poised on the curtain, pushing your sleep shorts and your panties down your legs. You kicked them into a small pile, hidden off to the side, feeling shy about that for some reason.

Quietly, you approached and curled your hand around the edge of the curtain and grinned shyly, “Kay, close your eyes.”

He laughed on the other side of the vinyl sheet, “What? Why?”

“Cause I’m shy!” you defended, “just do it.”

Jake snickered, “…they’re closed, I promise.”

You pulled the curtain back, keeping your eyes firmly at eye level as you stepped in, sliding it shut behind you. Your eyes settled on his dripping chestnut hair, curling up in the humidity as it hung in dark tendrils down Jake’s tanned shoulders, his back muscles flexing as he held his hand over his eyes.

He turned his head carefully with his eyelids squeezed shut, blindly looking over his shoulder, his lips were curled up in a boyish smirk, his cheeks warm from the shower, and maybe (hopefully) from your presence.

You stood before him, careful not to let yourself accidentally brush against him, biting your lip as you struggled not to let your eyes dip below his chest. He turned his body fully, facing you and grinning wider, which made your breath catch in your throat as nothing stopped you now from looking down if you wanted.

“Can I open my eyes now?” His voice had taken on a flirty, raspy quality, one you hadn’t personally been privy to before. It made your cheeks hot.

You took a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah, you can- you can look.”

He parted his ring and middle finger, peeking between his fingers to scan your face. “Yeah?” he confirmed softly, grinning.

You giggled softly, nodding at his sweet demeanour. “Yeah,” you whispered.

His hand lowered to his side, and you watched his throat as he swallowed, then you blushed harder as his eyes slowly descended from the rigid eye contact.

You felt his heated gaze searing into your skin, and you stood there, allowing yourself to be engulfed in his fiery, admiring gaze. It travelled down your neck, past your collarbones, his eyes lingered around your chest for a moment. He subtly licked his lips, quickly glancing down the rest of your body before glancing back up to your blushing, patiently waiting face.

“You’re more beautiful than I imagined,” he softly confessed, boyish, sweet and shy.

The soft burst of laughter that arose from you was born purely of the nervous energy flipping in your tummy. He cracked a grin at the sound, and your voice was surprisingly steady when you teased, “You’ve imagined?”

His head turned to the side, eyes casted down as his grin widened and he shrugged one shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You gave him a crooked smile, “Mhmm… I’ve always figured you’d be gorgeous too.”

His cheeks flushed pink and his eyes couldn’t quite seem to hold your gaze, flickering down to your lips repeatedly, making you feel even more of that restless, butterfly inducing energy.

Curiosity finally winning over, you did some visual exploration of your own, biting your lip as you stood with him beneath the fall of water. You traced your eyes down his chest, the plush abdomen decorated with that enticing wispy trail of hair.

You swallowed down your nerves as you felt Jake’s hands tentatively come to rest on your hips, and then you looked down at his very-much-still-aroused dick, water droplets running down the length of his thick shaft, falling from the tip of his swollen head that was the prettiest shade of pink.

You took a shaky breath, Jake’s fingers squeezing reflexively at your sides at the sound. Your face shot back up to his, the heated tension skyrocketing.

Jake lifted his brows with a questioning, almost challenging look. You shakily exhaled, answering that challenge by bring your hand up to rest over his chest. It was hot to the touch, his soft skin wet and sweet smelling, and beneath it, his heartbeat was racing just as fast as yours. His dark eyelashes fluttered at your touch but stayed open, watching your face in lustful curiosity, seeming to search for your approval, for a positive response.

You offered a shy smirk, flickering your eyes between his. “So…”

He grinned shyly, “So…”

You giggled quietly, and his smile widened, his thumbs swiping gently over your hips where he gripped you.

“… I don’t wanna like, say the wrong thing here,” he chuckled. “Not really sure what this… is.”

You tucked your chin down, giggling shyly. “I don’t know either, really. I guess it’s whatever you want it to be,” you looked up at him through your lashes.

He analysed your face for a moment, licking his lip again. God, could he knock that off before you fainted?

“Whatever I want it to be?” He quietly repeated.

Your hand moved, slipping your hand up over his shoulder, wrapping around the back of his neck, and it seemed to convey the hint to him clearly enough to give him the courage to ask,

“In that case…” he swallowed, meeting your eyes, “can I kiss you?”

Your stomach flipped, your face burned hot, and you pushed through the jackhammering of your heart to give him a shy but eager little nod, ever so slightly urging him with the hand on the back of his neck.

His breath stuttered, and he leaned in, carefully gaging your face until the last moment, your eyes fluttering shut in sync and his lips pressing warm and wet to yours.

Your free hand settled on his soft side, and that was what seemed to click this whole thing for the both of you. Jake’s heart raced anew beneath your other hand, and he parted his lips, returning to the kiss with a deeper slide, your faces angling into place.

Behind your eyelids, there wasn’t the fireworks or explosions of energy you’d read about. There was only Jake, coursing through your adrenaline jacked veins. Jake’s skin beneath your hands, Jake’s hair barely tickling your cheek as he leaned farther above you in his growing boldness, Jake’s hand squeezing your hip tightly as he let his other hand wander up your back.

He sighed through his nose with the softest little “Mm” of satisfaction, your throat responding with a quiet whine of your own instinctively. His hands kneaded the flesh at your waist, and his hot breath and his satin lips owning yours overwhelmed you in the best way.

All was Jake, but as you poured your relief and want into this hot, wet kiss, you kept coming back for more - you wanted all of him, pressing you against the shower wall, taking over every one of your senses.

But he was still holding on to that tiny bit of distance between his front and yours, and in your kiss-muddled brain, you couldn’t quite grasp why, which was why you used your leverage with your arm around his shoulder to press your chest against his without really thinking.

It was then that you felt the most pressing evidence of just how much this was affecting him, poking hard and hot just under your navel.

The combined sensation of your chest squishing against his and his tip skimming the skin of your abdomen drew out the most knee-buckling whimper of surprise out of Jake. You barely had time to drink in the sound of it before he was sweetly but firmly pushing you back. Your eyes opened to the sight of his lip tucked tightly beneath his teeth and his brows furrowed with tortured desire.

Your jaw fell open for a stunned moment, suddenly realizing what just happened, and you blushed hotter, mumbling, “I-I’m sorry, Jake-“

“No!” he cut you off, quickly shaking his head and cupping your cheek, his own face flushed bright with embarrassment. “Don’t- no apologizing. This is… it’s good, I just,” he floundered for words, eyes darting between yours as his cheeks blushed pinker still.

Not confident in your own voice – still dizzy with want from the brush of his cock, if you were honest - you simply blinked up at him, patiently but nervously waiting, and his demeanour seemed to soften as he looked down at you. You noticed how he was shifting his weight as his eyes unfocused for a moment, the restlessness of his hips making you crack a smirk.

He mirrored it, and you quirked an eyebrow at him playfully, “Worked up, huh?”

You had no idea where this boldness came from, but Jake’s pupils dilated in response to your challenging quip, and he huffed a shy laugh, leaning a tiny bit closer. “Maybe a little.”

You innocently shifted your own hips forward, just enough to cause his tip to graze your middle once again, and you bit your lip as his jaw popped open, his eyes darting down at the contact.

“Nothing about that is little,” you breathed.

Jake’s eyes flew up to yours, wide and shocked for a moment until his expression slowly morphed into a hesitant but dirty smirk.

That is, until your shower decided it wasn’t going to waste hot water any longer while you two finally worked out the tension between you. Jake, whose body had been mostly shielding you from the spray of water, jolted suddenly with a yelp, scrambling away from the showerhead, rushing to turn around and shut off the faucet.

“Jesus fuck,” he hissed, shuddering from the temperature shock as the water stopped.

You burst into giggles, and Jake awkwardly laughed as he straightened up. The bubble had burst, but you were honestly a little relieved to have dorky Jake back, as you watched him open the shower curtain and lean out to grab a towel for you both.

His smile was crooked as he faced you again, stepping close and wrapping the towel behind you, draping it over your shoulders. He hesitated when your eyes met, almost as if he wasn’t sure if you still wanted to keep going now that the moment had been so jarringly disrupted.

No way you were letting this go, though. You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and as matter of factly as you could, you told him, “See, now would be when you should kiss me again.”

His face drooped into an adorably goofy smile, and he teased softly as he leaned in, “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you giggled, lifting your chin invitingly as he obliged you with a gentle kiss.

When he pulled back, you met his eyes, and he smiled wide, casting his eyes down shyly.

“I gotta say, I did not think today was gonna go like this,” he admitted with a chuckle, drying off his chest.

You smirked, toweling off your hair and trying not to be too shy about it when you re-wrapped your towel around your body and stepped out. “How d’you mean?” you sarcastically replied.

He laughed, stepping out after you onto the bathmat, the two of you crowded together, swaddled in your respective towels as you dripped onto the fuzzy rug. “Oh you know,” he wrinkled his nose playfully, “just, going from, pathetically jerking off in your shower to the thought of you, to kissing you naked? That little thing?”

Your jaw dropped, and you giggled in shock, blinking up at him as you blushed hot for the hundredth time. “…the thought of me?” you squeaked.

Jake’s brows furrowed above his disbelieving eyes, smirking at you, “…you knew that…”

You shook your head, biting your lip as your stomach flipped.

Jake’s face fell a little bit, his own blush returning. “What?”

You squirmed under his gaze, chuckling shyly, “…What?”

He huffed an almost teasing laugh, “Darling, you have to have known I like you,” he insisted, smiling in disbelief.

Your whole abdomen erupted with butterflies, and you giggled nervously, “No! How could I have known that!”

He reached up to cup your face as he laughed gently, “You got in the shower with me! Why would you have done that if you didn’t know?”

You flushed hot at the reminder, and let your forehead fall into his shoulder, his arms looping around you fondly in reassurance as you chuckled into his skin. “Cause I- I like you, and I wanted…you,” you finished lamely.

His voice was cheeky and smug above you, “You like me?”

You smirked, sighing and mumbling, “Yes, Jacob,” against his shoulder.

He lowered his face beside your ear, practically purring, “…and you want me?”

You sucked on your bottom lip, nodding into the cavern of his neck, and he took your chin, lifting you out of your little hollow to look at you.

“What exactly do you want?” he pried, still smiling but the tone of his voice growing more serious. He held your shy gaze, and you squirmed nervously, “a lot of things.”

He leaned forward, hovering over your face and stealing your breath away. “Like what?”

You hesitated, and he closed the gap between you to kiss your lips sweetly. Your eyes closed, and as he slowly pulled away, he whispered, “You can have it, whatever you want. Just tell me.”

You snaked your arms around his neck and shoulders, holding him in close to ease your nerves as you gave him your answer against his lips, “I want to touch you… want you to touch me.”

He swallowed, and blew out a shaky breath, nodding subtly as he seemed to gather his remaining composure. “Do you wanna do that, in your room maybe?”

You blushed, nodding up at him as he pulled away gently, and he gave you an excited but reassuring smile. “Okay then. Let’s fool around,” he joked, making you giggle with bubbling excitement.

“Are we teenagers?” you teased, following him across the hall into your room, watching him pause by the bed.

He rubbed the back of his neck, and your eyes were drawn to the flex of his arm muscles, leading down his front to where the towel he’d wrapped around his waist hung threateningly loose.

You looked back up and realized he was eyeing you the same way, making you bite back a wanton sigh.

Jake glanced at the bed and back to you questioningly, his hands toying with the towel. Adorably nervous, he chuckled, “Um… should I- should I leave this on, or…?”

You giggled, flustered, “You can if you want to.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m asking if you want me naked on your bed.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, biting at your thumb to channel the rush of lust coursing through your body. “Yeah,” you confirmed, and he nodded quickly, careful in his movements as he unwrapped his hips, laying down on your bed as he dropped the towel to the floor. You stared as he settled in your mess of sheets, hair splayed out on your pillow, as he wrapped his hand over his erect cock.

He bit his lip and looked over at you, raising his eyebrows, and you followed his lead, walking over and loosening the tuck of your towel until it dropped around your feet. Jakes eyes raked over your body, and you swallowed a groan as he shifted his palm over his cock, eyeing you up. “You gonna join me?” he asked, voice husky.

You glanced at the limited space on your bed, softly asking, “Where should I…”

He let go of his erection, smoothing his hands over his thighs invitingly. “Wanna get on top of me?”

The rush of wet heat between your legs made your knees feel wobbly, and you couldn’t suppress a quiet whimper this time. Jake sighed, “yeah?” he licked his lips, “C’mere honey.”

You carefully brought a knee up beside him, crawling over him as you swung a leg over his hips, your chest close to his face. His cheeks were pink, lips shining with spit from licking them, and you hovered over him, not resting your hips just yet, unsure.

His eyes bore into yours intensely, and he grasped your waist, hands roaming up and down your sides soothingly, sweet and chaste. “This okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, adjusting the way you held yourself up so that your chest leaned down flush with his. Jake bit his lip hard, his eyes unfocusing for a second. Carefully, his hands came to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your ass. He ever so gently gave a little tug - not moving you, merely inviting you to - sweetly asking, “You wanna sit?”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a second, sighing quietly, and you mumbled, “Yeah, can I?”

Jake nodded up at you, smiling, easing your nerves. You lowered your hips, and felt him, hot and thick and hard, nestling into the wet heat of your folds.

Jake’s eyes fluttered, almost rolling back at the sensation, his hands flexing at your sides. “Oh sweet Jesus-“

You let out a flustered little giggle, feeling deliriously turned on at the feeling, rolling your hips over him slightly. Jake’s brows knit tightly, and he gave an absentminded little smirk as he subtly arched against you, helping in the wave like motion of your grinding.

“Fuck… Jake,” you shut your eyes, blushing as you teased him, “You’re so hard.”

He whined, and you opened your eyes, nearly blacking out with lust at the look on his face, so helplessly needy below you. His lips were parted, and his eyes trained on the gentle sway of your chest as you rocked against him. You bit your lip, glancing down and grabbing his hand from your side, and guiding it up to your chest.

Jake bucked into you, cupping and squeezing your boob, and it sent his head gliding over your clit just right. You moaned, and Jake’s jaw dropped open, catching on a rough sigh.

You were soaking him, and his cock started making obscene wet sounds as it drove through your folds. He kneaded your chest, bringing his other hand up to join, and you planted your hands on his chest as you sped up your hips.

“Baby-“ he cried out, wincing in pleasure, gritting his teeth as you came to a reluctant stop.

He panted, fluttering his eyes open to look at you, groaning softly the second they focused on the sight of you on top of him. “Fuck,” he breathed.

You reached up, smiling shyly as you brushed his hair back. “Did you… wanna stop?”

He shook his head, grinning up at you, eyes glazed over, “Fuck no.”

You giggled, teasingly wiggling your hips over him, and his hands shot to your waist, furiously trying to hold you still as he gasped.

Bashfully, he smiled, not quite meeting your eyes. “Don’t want this to be over yet,” he admitted.

“Oh,” you nodded, pleased with how much you affected him. “What should we do now, then?”

He took a breath, and then sighed out, “I really want to touch you… can I?”

Jakes face… he watched for your response with such an intense expression. Like if he looked away from you he’d die. And when you took a shaky breath and muttered, “Yeah, Jakey,”.

Jake let out another sigh, seemingly winded by the desire both in your voice and brewing inside him, and he held you firm as he rolled you both over to your sides, trapping you between the wall and him on your bed. You giggled softly from the tumble, shifting to get comfortable alongside his smiling face.

He glanced down once you’d settled, gently cupping the underside of your thigh and guiding your leg up to hitch around his waist. You felt deliriously exposed, your centre parted and spread open, centimetres from his cock.

He let his hand smooth up, around the curve of your ass, where his hand lingered and squeezed gently as he lifted his gaze to you through his damp lashes. “This okay?” He murmured sweetly.

The grip this boy had on your heart… you felt bulldozed by his beauty. The tip of his nose, the shape of his cheekbones, the lines of past joy faint in the corner of his eyes. How anybody can look so entirely perfect, you’d never know, but the living proof stood leaning over you, examining you with just as much loving wonder as you felt.

Drinking in every corner of your face as you gave him a little nod, his muscles shifted beneath your hand as he moved his arm between your bodies. His fingertips, tough and rugged, brushed featherlight at your inner thigh, his knuckles grazing the other leg. Your skin tingled, and your clit gave an aching twitch as the air between your mouths grew humid and shaky with both yours and Jakes nervous breaths.

Then, his middle finger pad made slick contact with your clit. His lips parted in shock, surprised perhaps that he’d really gotten this far, or surprised by the nearly embarrassing layer of wetness coating your cunt.

“Baby,” Jake choked out, his fingertip circling your hardened clit once, twice, hand shaking slightly. You stared up at him, brows knit and tilted up in the middle, your lips parted in a silent moan. His eyes darted back and forth between yours, “you’re so… wet…”

The first shaky sound whimpered past your lips, drawn out by his callused digits, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist.

“Fuck,” Jake croaked, hungry. Growing confidence, his fingers flattened and pressed side by side and began slipping in loose circles.

You whined through your nose, sucking on your bottom lip through the electric sparks of pleasure and adrenaline. “Jake…” you mumbled, rolling slightly into his touch.

Jake nodded slowly, hypnotized, his eyes never leaving yours, “Gorgeous,” he whispered, breathless.

It clearly never occurred to either of you that you were equally as worked up as he was, and you felt yourself already tightening up as an orgasm simmered on the horizon. But you held off, feeling Jake’s fingers move lower, and he murmured a quick, “Can I?” waiting for your nod before sinking two callused fingers slow and deep inside.

“Uh- fuck,” you scratched at his arm, clenching around his fingers as they gently withdrew, curling against the perfect spot as they pulled out, pushing back inside slickly.

Jake swallowed hard, eyes locked on your face, tracing each twitch of your expression as his erection throbbed between your bodies. “You’re so fuckin tight, babe,” his voice broke weakly, and you whined at him, “Faster?”

His fingers started pumping steadily, and the heel of his hand caught your clit just right with each thrust. You groaned, arching against his hand. You held his wrist to your clit, practically humping his hand as his fingers sunk into you perfectly.

Gritting your teeth, you groaned, “Please keep going-!”

He nodded, eagerly watching you and not changing a thing, unravelling you embarrassingly quickly.

“You cumming?” he breathed, sounding wonderstruck, breathless and so enthusiastic, seamlessly picking up to the pace that you guided him to. With a long, broken whine of yes’s, you stuttered on his hand, inwardly singing his praises that he doubled down and kept fucking those perfect long fingers into you even when your body convulsed. He gradually slowed his hand as you came down, relaxing and twitching around his digits, panting and half-heartedly rolling into him, riding out the last little waves.

He never withdrew his fingers, even when you finally fluttered your eyes open at him, smiling wide and breathless. He swallowed hard, keeping his fingers buried in your heat, just barely curling them as he leaned forward to kiss you. After your orgasm, it felt even naughtier, just letting him soak his fingers in you as he kissed you with desperation.

You clenched around him, and he whimpered softly into your mouth, sinking his fingers impossibly deeper, making a wet suction noise when he pulled them out slowly.

Your whine made him suck a breath in against your lips, and your eyes fluttered open as he pulled away slightly, his fingers flying to his mouth in his desperation. His eyes burned into yours, lips enveloping his fingers and sucking your wetness from his skin, and his eyes ever so slightly rolled back under his drooped eyelids.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until your lungs burned suddenly, forcing you to exhale heavily. As Jake’s eyes refocused on yours, you grabbed his wrist, shoving it down to his side and cupping his face with both hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss.

He moaned, low and long into your mouth, and you could feel the confidence boost your orgasm had given him, his kisses bolder and hungrier, along with the languid sweep of his tongue over your bottom lip.

His hand slipped up your side, smoothing over your curves and coming to rest just under the swell of your breast before he cupped it and kneaded gently at the flesh. He let out another sweet moan from the back of his throat, thumb swiping over your nipple, and your body jerked slightly at the jolt of pleasure. Jake’s lips stretched into a smile, his forehead leaning against yours as you panted against each other’s grins.

Eyes casted down shyly, you murmured his name.

“Yeah, baby?” he matched your soft tone, the pet name making you blush and grin girlishly.

“Um,” you bit your lip happily, running your hand down his neck and chest, “my turn now?”

Under your palm, his heart rate picked up, and he licked his lips, his breath shaky as he inhaled and gave you a little nod, “If- yeah, if you want to-“

You brushed your lips against his, your hand slipping lower between your bodies. “I want to if you want me to.”

He huffed a flustered little chuckle, rosy cheeked and gentle as he adorably rubbed the tip of his nose against yours. “I want anything you feel like doing to me.”

You answered with a wide crooked grin, leaning your forehead further against his and angling your chin down, wanting to see the mouth-watering thickness between his legs when you touched it. It lay against his thigh, full and flushed, the very tip of his head glistening with a bead of his own arousal. Jake looked down to watch as well, foreheads pressed tight together, maintaining the connection of your flushed faces as you brushed the back of your fingers down his soft tummy.

You shyly extended a single finger, tracing the pad of it down the length of him, heart pounding, hearing Jake suck in a sharp breath, squirming his hips a little at the teasing touch. His cock twitched, making you bite your lip, and you carefully picked him up, wrapping your fingers around his thick, warm shaft. He let out a shuddery sigh as you stroked him up and down once, twice, letting your wrist twist a little on the third pull. He bit his lip hard, failing to muffle a low moan, and his eyelashes fluttered in your peripheral vision.

Missing his beautiful, reactive face, you brushed a sweet kiss against his parted lips and pulled away just far enough to focus your eyes on his expression of tortured need.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking at you sluggishly with the faintest little smirk tugging at his lips. “Feels good,” he rasped.

You raised your brows at him, a wordless yeah? He grinned lazily, brows furrowing suddenly when you swiped your thumb over his tip. “O-oh,” he stuttered, eyes closing as his lips parted, thrusting into your grip a little.

You watched in lustful awe as you both found a rhythm, his breaths coming heavier from his chest, desperately committing the glide of his skin over his solid shaft to memory. His pink head slipping through the opening of your fist, the ridge of his head against your palm, his thighs clenching beneath your hand with each pump.

Before you realized it, you breathed, “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Jake.”

He hissed through his teeth, bucking into your hand, his eyes fluttering open only halfway to peer at you through those long dark lashes. He shot you a shaky smirk. “You like this?” His flirty voice rumbled.

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nodded, twisting your fist over him. He groaned softly, reaching down to wrap his hand around your fist, taking control for a moment as he tightened your grip and sped up your hand. He stared into your eyes, his brows tipping up in the middle as his jaw fell open and a sinful moan poured out of his mouth. Gaze flicking between your eyes, he panted, “You’re hot, babe.” He groaned softly. “Fuck, your hand is so soft,” he chuckled breathlessly.

You smiled, and he subconsciously mirrored it, his pupils dilated wide and dark.

You couldn’t help your wandering mind, watching him squirm and pant under your touch, wanting to watch it from above him. You pondered for a moment, savoring the feeling of him in your fist before quietly prodding him.

“Jakey?”

He took a shaky breath, “What honey?” he searched your face as your hand slowed, his abdomen tensing in anxious anticipation, “Do you wanna stop? It’s okay-“

You shook your head, “No, I don’t wanna stop, I just… I wanna…”

He relaxed (well, as much as he could given your hand was still lazily jerking him), and he raised his brows at you patiently.

You blushed, tearing your eyes away from his inquisitive ones, “Do you wanna like…” you smirked shyly, your tone emphasizing the meaning behind your words, “keep going?”

His stunned face seemed to lag for a moment, but his cock gave an eager, strong twitch in your hand, giving him away. You squeezed it back, almost in response, and he jerked slightly, blinking quickly, quietly rasping, “What- uh, how do you mean?”

He knew, and you knew he knew, but you elaborated anyway just to watch his face.

“D’you wanna fuck me?”

Jake’s cock twitched again, more insistently, and it made you smile crookedly at him as he swallowed hard, carding his shaky fingers through your hair. “God, yes, honey, I do,” he breathed on a broken sigh. “How, uhh…” he trailed off, eyes nervously but eagerly searching the space around you, and you knew he trying to ask how you wanted him.

“Do you think, maybe…” you paused, eyes dipping down his body and trailing back up, “…I could ride you?”

It was worth it to bear the mild embarrassment of saying the words when his chest nearly heaved with the groan he let out, hips bucking helplessly into your loosened grip.

He nodded quickly, trying to gather his composure, “I-yeah, yes, I’d- I’d like that. If you want,” he rushed out.

You nodded, gently petting his cock once more then pulling your fingers away as you rose up on your elbow, gently rolling him onto his back.

He let out a low sigh of wonderment as you swung your leg over his hips, settling yourself quickly back into your previous position, and his jaw clenched when you wet him again through your opening.

You held him up against your clit with your hand, creating a tighter slip through your lips, and his neck arched, an almost pained sounding whimper choking out of him.

“You want it?” you murmured, mesmorized with his beauty beneath you. He stole your breath away as those deep, sparkling eyes focused on your own, muttering under his breath, “Please?”

Nodding swiftly, you lifted up on your knees a bit, holding eye contact as you centered his head at your entrance and slowly lowered down over his cock.

As he sank into you, his eyes rolled back into his head, eyelids fluttering closed and lips parting in a sinful whine. His hands gripped your hips tight, instinctively lifting his hips, rolling himself into you and meeting you halfway.

Fully sheathed inside, your hips wouldn’t cooperate and stay still like you intended. You immediately started a slow roll against him, using his smooth, soft chest to balance as the stretch of him inside gave way to the delicious pressure.

With both of you as wound up as you were, he certainly wasn’t complaining when your pace sped up into a steady bounce on top of him.

Blinking up at you through his pleasure-wracked expression, he bit his lip hard, watching you move for a moment before groaning softly, “Fuck, baby… y’know what?”

“Mm?” was all you could manage to squeak out, your nails digging into his chest.

Jake swallowed hard, moaning softly before finishing, “You look so fucking good sitting on my cock.”

You felt your body heat up from your cheeks to your core, responding to him with a tight clench of your walls around his shaft. He hissed, desperately sinking his fingers into the flesh of your hips. “Ah, fuck-“

“You look good underneath me,” you panted, smirking down at his tensed up face.

He gave you a weak smirk, sweaty brow furrowed in pleasure. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t-“ His jaw fell open with a sharp whine as you clenched tight around him again.

Leaning down over him, you rode him a little slower and deeper, making both of you groan softly.

“Can’t what, Jakey?” you murmured.

Bringing a hand up and threading it through your hair, he locked eyes with you. “Can’t believe we didn’t do this before.”

You blushed a little, smiling as you casted your eyes down, flustered even as you felt him plunging deep between your legs. “Probably cause you’re my best friend?”

He made you smile wider with his breathless, sexy little giggle, “You’re my best friend too… doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.”

“Dirty boy,” you playfully murmured, slowing down to an almost standstill over him. He took the opportunity to smack your ass, grinning up at you when you gasped. “You don’t know the half of it, baby. Keep fucking me, c’mon.”

With a playful but flustered giggle, you goaded him, “Say please.”

Shooting you the filthiest, fucked out smirk, he gave your ass another smack and positively moaned out, “Please, please fuck me, baby?”

Your brows knit tight, and you started circling your hips over him, sending him dragging over your sweet spot, drawing a cry from your chest.

He whimpered beneath you, watching your face contort with each thrust. His eyes trailed down your body to where you kept him buried inside you, the sight making his breath catch and his heart pound even faster. His cock glistened each time you lifted your hips, drenched with your wetness. He’d done that, he thought, you were that wet for him. Your whimpers and moans, combined with the visual, all on top of his feelings for you rising to the surface, he felt that familiar aching heat growing quickly.

“Getting close, babe,” he all but whimpered, jaw clenching as his hands shook around your hips.

Grinding your clit into his pubic bone with each bounce, you nodded fast and delirious, desperately whining as your pace faltered in your blind need. “Fuck yes, please, I wanna watch you cum Jakey… I wanna make your eyes roll back, I wanna feel how hot and wet it feels inside me, Jakey, please baby-“

With a deafening groan, his hands on your hips squeezed hard, slamming you down onto his cock harder and faster, his knees bending to plant his feet and fuck himself back into you. You cried out, face falling into the crook of his neck, sobbing out your pleasure into his shoulder and biting at it as your high built up closer and closer.

Jake whined and huffed by your ear, thighs shaking uncontrollably as he arched his neck, head pressing into the pillow. You squeezed and clenched around him, pleading pathetically, “I’m cumming, oh-! I’m cumming, don’t fucking stop, please please-“

He nodded his head rapidly, hips never ceasing as he brought one sweaty hand to your hair, tugging your head back and bringing your lips to his, kissing you fiercely as you panted and cried into his mouth. “All over my cock, c’mon baby.” His jaw clenched, and his hand migrated to your jaw, gripping it and gritting harshly against your lips, “Fucking cum for me!”

Lips melted and locked with yours in a searing kiss, you came, tight and quaking around his thick pumping cock, your contracting walls squeezing and milking Jake over the edge of his own orgasm. He groaned, broken and animalistic, furiously bucking into your sopping wet heat, slapping against your thighs as he fucked you both through the waves of pleasure.

You finally started to unclench and relax, Jake’s hips slowing into intermittent jerks as he twitched inside you. His chest heaved beneath you, matching yours, your whole body melting into his.

“Holy… fuck…” he panted under his breath, and you could hear his tired smile in his voice.

“Mmm,” you hummed your resounding agreement. You tucked your face into his neck and snaked your fingers up into his sweaty hair. His arms wrapped around you, one snuggling you into him from around your back, the other tightly wrapped around your waist, and carefully, he limply rolled you both onto your sides, where he lazily grasped and brought the blankets you’d shoved down back up over your waists.

He wordlessly drew you into his chest, nuzzling his cheek into yours, nose buried in your hair as you both slowly caught your breath. As you came back to earth, you felt safer than you’d ever felt, clutched so tight to his body.

Other than your slowing heartbeats and breaths, it was comfortably silent for quite some time. You were dreamily enjoying being held in Jake’s arms for the moment, focusing on the rhythmic breeze of his breaths tickling your hair and his fingers occasionally kneading and rubbing at your skin, almost as if in reminder of what had just happened.

And sure, there were things that should probably be said, but you were at peace with the unspoken feelings in the air for now.

Unspoken, that is, until Jake shyly, sleepily, and whisper-quietly, mumbled into your neck.

“Hey…”

“Mm?” you hummed in response.

“I fucking love you.”

You smiled, bright and giddy and completely and utterly in love with him. “I love you, too,” you breathed back, quiet and tender, feeling the movement of his cheek muscles as he beamed into your hair, nuzzling you sweetly.

-------- ⭐︎☽⭐︎☾⭐︎ --------

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kokushibouthings · 1 year

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Pairing: tomura shigaraki x reader

Content: Reader is a streamer, AFAB/female reader, Non con(?), reader is into it, reader has a "perfect" body + not specified eye color skin tone nor hair length and color(?) , readers wearing a medium lengthed pencil skirt, non con(?), Sub reader

Side note: yes, tomura has a finger or two lifted up every time he grips onto something. No asking why I don't bother just putting it in.🤬

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I slightly bite my lower lip angrily at the fact I failed to kill the creeper without it exploding

"Damn it... Now there's a hole in the ground!"

Grabbing the dirt blocks, Not bothering to fill it in and just covered the top in return of chat spamming; "How could you do that?!" "Fill the hole up.." "Cursed."

I scoffed a little confused, "since was not filling up a creeper explosion cursed..?"

I notice a chat, with the same user I always see in almost every livestream I do and repost videos of my livestreams. "It wasn't cursed ever."

I found it a little cute, Having a long term fan always coming onto my streams.. "Thanks for agreeing, AFORP" I always noticed that user even though the chats were honestly a bit fast at updating.

After a few minutes in the livestream.. Almost finished building your minecraft base and a mob spawner farm.

[ AFORP has donated 270 ---- ]

Do you love me?

I listened to the text to speech while half focused on the game, "Sure I do." I replied barely really caring at all not noticing who even donated...as the chat spammed wtfs or stuff like did you get a boyfriend.

After a while, I decide to end the stream after 2 and a half hours. Finally getting to stretch and fall into my warm mattress grabbing my phone. I noticed I was starting to run low on cash and desperately needed to pay a LOT of bills...

Boldly deciding to start an onlyfans, Setting it up overnight before getting some sleep and continuing in the morning...

...

I post the pictures embarrassingly, in hope of getting some cash. Desperate times are desperate needs.

Surprisingly, and shockingly. The first one to comment on the video about my recently updated bio with the OF link was AFORP..

"God you look so fuckin' pretty.. Just wann' rip you apart so bad." I read, Taking it as sarcasm replying to his comment; "Do it." Thinking he wouldn't...

Oh you were so wrong and in for one hell of a ride of your life.

...

. (switching to 3rd person pov)

...

Your legs were spread apart as his legs were between them, with your hands completely being pushed down against the mattress with his open palms lifting some fingers up making sure to not decay the bed,

As your wildly jackhammering your legs panicking since you're very much aware of the fact he's the one of the infamous notorious villains, He takes his hands away from yours to scratch his neck with one of his.

"Weren't you the one who told me to do this? Why are you so afraid now?" You backed up in the corner of your bed completely terrified for your life.

As he just practically climbed on the bed, Heading towards you. "E ...—eek! What do you want from me?!" You yelled out squirming closing your eyes, knees into your face ready to brace any pain

"Are you fuckin' stupid? A lil' disappointin for my favorite streamer who was apparently fearless to be afraid of me." He grabbed your hand, Forcing you to lay down on your back having him hover over you. You took a bit processing what he meant..

"are you AFORP...? suddenly I'm not so scared of you.." Your eyes looked into his, Confusingly having the most notorious villain wrapped around your finger.

"You should be cause I'm gonna fuck your brains out till you cry and beg." He flips you over having you lay on your chest this time, Grabbing onto your hair yanking it so hard as if hes trying to find out if you're wearing a wig..

"Wh...–what the fucck– stop! Stop! that hurts!!" You cry out already telling him to stop, "How about you be an obedient little slut? Can't believe you're already begging when I only just yanked on your hair."

Slapping your clothed cunt, Having you yelp at his action... As he works his zipper down, shortly before lifting up your skirt and folding it to get a better view of your ass.

"God you look so fuckin' perfect with those laced panties, How about you spread your legs a bit wider?" He lets go of your hair, Making you almost just fall onto the mattress face flat... Luckily you got on your arms.. But.

At this point, you just give in and obey him spreading your legs a bit wide open, if you knew he could practically just kill you within 5 seconds if you disobeyed would you still try to rebel against him? No. exactly.

You look behind you to look at what he's even doing.. "Well If I'm your favorite streamer do you mind going gentle atleast.." He scoffed, "Sure, whatever. That's the least best thing I could probably do for you." He enters slowly, but fuck he was still so fucking rough and painful.

"W—wait don't you have a condom..? What if you'll get me pregnant I don't want to be known as the most infamous villains wife or whatever..." He takes a hand to his neck, Scratching it annoyingly.. "I know what I'm doing. I won't cum inside, happy? Now stop fuckin' talking before I might hurt your dumbass."

You could feel every hot, rough inch and veins of him inside of you. God he was pretty ugly from far away but you had to admit he was a lot hotter in this time close up.. I guess he grew up a little bit. And his hair is longer– wait why do you care about that? Anyway continuing...

sloppily thrusting inside of you, hitting your g-spot every single thrust... Shortly moving onto a quicker rough pace with you squirming against his length..

A few fingers slide down near your velvet lines, rubbing his fingers against your cute little bead "Godd you're so wet, I bet you were hoping for something like this to happen. Just...heelplesssly wat–tching me ...—po..-und you like a whoor...re" Although you desperately tried to cover your mouth with the palm of your hand, low soft moans escaped your lips..

"f.... –fuck..Mmngh, Aa..Ah! ssh —..hiit.." You whimpered, squirming and shaking badly under his touch, A streamer who was apparently fearless ruined in around 4 minutes..

His length abusing your cunt, as a finger rubs against your clit in circular motions consistently after sliding it up and down..

You were already about to have your 2nd orgasm, feeling the same knot in your stomach about to rip as tears dripped down onto the bed sheets accompanied with drool

You could feel him shortly pulling out, releasing it all over your back as you just collapsed exhaustedly..

"Don't worry, I won't just leave you here. I guess I'll help clean you up... Didn't get you to beg at all but whatever" But he ended up doing it only after a few minutes of playing around with your chest and a 2 minute break...

...

You wake up to be alone, with a completely different set of clothes and snacks on your desk.. Confused about what happened. (yea you barely remember anything 🫡)

#shigaraki smut #tomura smut #bnha shigaraki #female reader #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader smut #tomura shigaraki smut

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venus-haze · 1 year

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Adam Raised a Cain (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: The Sinclair house is haunted. It always has been and always will be as long as it’s standing. It’s a house you can’t think straight in, always keeping you on edge. The inhabitants are haunted too, and the longer you stay there, the further into the mire you get dragged by a dead woman’s claws and a man who can’t seem to decide whether he hates you or not.

Note: This fic can be considered a companion piece to Howl, though you don’t have to read one to understand what’s going on in the other. The reader is a woman (who gets put through the wringer again) but no other descriptors are used. It should surprise no one that the title comes from a Springsteen song. I’m going with the draft script where Bo killed Trudy, but it’s only mentioned briefly. Also I headcanon the Sinclairs as being Catholic for the drama of it all, so there’s some of that sprinkled throughout, though I want to explore that more at some point. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: Murder. Descriptions of violence involving weapons (guns and knives). Disturbing and sadistic behavior. Misogyny. Kidnapping and prolonged captivity which involves physical abuse, emotional and psychological manipulation, major Stockholm syndrome, distorted sense of self. Unrequited crush (reader on Vincent). Threats of harm to one’s self. Descriptions of body horror on a victim and also parental abuse. Mentions of sexual content but nothing explicit. Do not interact if you are under 18.

You didn’t have to meet Trudy Sinclair to know you hated her. Some place between nowhere and eternity, you hoped her incorporeal being ached every time her name was internally cursed upon by you. Her specter loomed throughout Ambrose, a shadow that somehow had a chokehold on your life, but more so on your—captor? boyfriend? fiance? Whatever Bo was to you, he made Trudy your problem too.

The day after Bo brought you up to the house, he made you go back down to Ambrose with him, giving you no indication of what he had planned except to wear black. When he brought you to the church, an odd building you hadn’t noticed before, you wondered if god could even be present in such a place. Regardless, he led you up the aisle, past the wax congregation and up to the coffin that lay before the altar where the wax priest was giving the funeral mass through a recording that played on loop. As if the scenario wasn’t morbid enough, Bo knelt in front of the open casket, and you followed his example, paying your respects to his wax-preserved, deceased mother.

You’d gone to funerals before, seen relatives and friends done up in open caskets, one last hurrah before becoming food for worms. Trudy had been dead for at least a decade, you knew as much, but for a 10-years-dead bitch, she didn’t look half bad, all things considered. Her manicured hands, long red acrylic fingernails filed into what you could only call claws, were gripping a glass-bead rosary—you doubted she was a pillar of piety. Though, you could see her blonde wig was somewhat ajar, revealing what looked like an entry or exit wound on her temple. You knew better than to ask who shot her.

Anything you did around the house was under Bo’s scrutiny, and you were constantly compared to Trudy. For a man who seemed to live on microwave dinners before you started cooking, he sure had a lot to say about every meal you prepared. His most common critique was “Ain’t how mama made it.” Especially for Trudy’s recipes, written in a feminine scrawl on discolored index cards that you painstakingly followed to the letter. Her recipes weren’t good, either. Unseasoned slosh despite living in proximity to the capital of Cajun cuisine in the States.

Bo had seemed glad when you offered to clean up around the house, how quickly it seemed like you’d learned your place within the Sinclair household dynamic. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. It never was with Bo. When you greeted him as expected when he returned home, with a warm kiss and a cold beer, he flew into a rage upon finding you had, in fact, cleaned. He somehow didn’t consider that cleaning involved you organizing belongings and throwing out garbage, ranting about how you can’t touch his stuff and now he can’t find anything.

Mornings weren’t too bad. In fact, it was when things were most domestic with Bo, when you could best convince yourself that you were in a normal relationship with him. Morning sex with Bo was far tamer by his standards than any other time he’d have sex with you, and sometimes he’d actually kiss you during it.

Despite technically not being on a schedule, he liked to be out of the house by 9 to work on whatever he did to keep Ambrose up and running. It didn’t matter whether or not you were an early riser, because he inexplicably was, and expected you to cook breakfast for him each day, a hot plate of whatever was in the fridge and a freshly brewed cup of coffee waiting at his seat by the time he sauntered downstairs. He’d greet you with a grin and a smack on the ass, as if you two were playful newlyweds.

Though you lived in the house, he didn’t entirely trust you, as he’d wait for you to eat your portion of whatever meal you’d cooked first before digging in. Playing house with Bo was far more stressful than you could’ve expected, though you hoped over time you’d get the hang of it. With the glittering ring adorning your finger, it seemed like he expected you to.

This particular morning was a pan of half a dozen scrambled eggs and a few slices of toast. You liked working with the radio on, cooking and cleaning during the day felt far less lonely with another voice around. Only three radio stations got any reception in Ambrose and one of them wasn't even consistent, as you found to your disappointment. Bo’s metal music was a collection of mixtapes made by various victims, which sent a chill down your spine as you briefly considered the implications. With your radio choices being country and oldies, you chose oldies, finding Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday the appropriate soundtrack to your Stepford Wives-esque existence. A lump always formed in your throat whenever Connie Francis came on, no matter the song. She was Trudy’s favorite singer, Bo had informed you one day.

You took your seat next to him, grabbing one of the nearby newspapers. Bo would bring you newspapers or magazines he got from victims. It was how you found out you’d been in Ambrose for nearly three months by the time he let you out from captivity beneath the gas station. At first, you scanned every one for some mention of your disappearance, but gave up hope after a few weeks. Instead, you resigned yourself to ripping recipes out of women’s magazines and preoccupying yourself with crossword puzzles and comic strips.

Still, you found the astrology sections interesting and read yours and Bo’s horoscopes over breakfast each morning. He hated when his was negative, even though he claimed “I don’t believe in that garbage,” so sometimes you’d have to improvise. The news of the world was increasingly foreign to you, and you found the trends and gossip in magazines vapid.

“Whatcha got today?” he asked through a mouthful of eggs.

Though the paper was from two days prior, your eyes drifted to your sign. “Luck in love.”

“Damn right, darlin’.”

“Yours says an unexpected stranger will help you.”

He made a noncommittal grunt, shrugging before downing the rest of his coffee. “I’ll try to make it back here for lunch, but I probably won’t be home till late tonight. You give Vincent a holler if you need somethin’.”

“Okay, I love you,” you said, as was expected.

He didn’t always say it back, but for some reason, he made you tell him you loved him before he left in the mornings. You wouldn’t fight it, not if it made his mood even remotely better than the mildly-pissed-off to furious states that he seemed to operate under. In that instance, he returned the sentiment with an unknown amount of sincerity, giving you a kiss before leaving his dirty plate and empty coffee mug behind for you to clean.

You liked taking your time with your chores for the day. It was easier to cope with everything if you kept yourself too busy to start thinking too much. You flipped to the next page of the newspaper, reading some of the letters to the editor.

Creaking stairs caught your attention, and you looked up from the paper, surprised to see Vincent making an appearance so early. He was more of a night owl and seemed to avoid Bo when he could. The first time you met him was awkward as hell, and you still found it difficult to make eye contact with him over it. Bo had been in the middle of fucking you on the kitchen counter when his twin emerged from his basement ‘studio.’ You were mortified, and Vincent seemed to be as well, since he began backtracking until Bo shot him a grin, “Good ‘a time as ever to make introductions.” At least Vincent had the decency to mostly leave you alone since then.

“Morning Vincent,” you said, petting Jonesy as she ran up to your side. “Breakfast’s scrambled eggs.”

He nodded in response, piling the cold eggs on a plate and sticking it in the microwave. You looked down at Jonesy. She was a sweet dog, but you saw her just about as often as you saw Vincent, since she seemed to be his shadow.

“Do you want coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

He looked at the coffee pot, considering it for a few moments before shaking his head. Unlike Bo, who drank half a pot of coffee every morning, Vincent would switch between coffee and tea in the mornings, at least the mornings you actually saw him. It wasn’t uncommon for Vincent to disappear for days at a time, though you always cooked enough for him, leaving a plate for him in the fridge.

Bo was a creature of habit, as you’d observed his strange and sometimes disturbing rituals living in the house with him, from drinking a beer as soon as he got home each evening to spending at least an hour visiting Trudy’s casket in church every Sunday at noon. Vincent seemed to do things sporadically, getting so involved in his work that you weren’t sure if he consistently ate let alone showered like he should. You knew they were twins, but even when you first met Vincent, you were aware of how different he was from Bo.

Of course, meeting Lester was nothing short of a shock to the system. You had felt like you were going crazy when you saw the man from the highway who’d directed you and your friends to Ambrose in the first place walk into the house with a friendly smile on his face while you were preparing lunch. Then Bo introduced him as his “kid brother” and Lester congratulated you for “shacking up” with Bo. The experience was dizzying and confusing, especially since you ended up getting along with Lester surprisingly well, having the closest thing to a regular, mundane conversation in months. He didn’t come up to the house very often, though.

Compared to Bo and Vincent, Lester seemed normal enough, though he was still complicit in your suffering and that of everyone else who came through Ambrose. You could barely piece together how it all started, when had their mother’s career warped into the surreal hell you found yourself in? Was it inevitable or avoidable?

From the news clippings you’d seen throughout the house, Trudy was undoubtedly talented when it came to wax art, but you couldn’t tell whether the grainy, black and white photos of the wax figures she posed with were real, like how your friends ended up. Then again, Ambrose had been a small, bustling town with real people to notice if tourists went missing. Once the highway was built and the sugar mill shut down, everyone left but the Sinclairs. Not that there was anywhere else for them to go, since Dr. Sinclair was practicing medicine unlicensed in Ambrose and Trudy’s skills didn’t have much of a practical application outside of being an eccentric and volatile small town celebrity.

You noticed that Bo rarely mentioned his father, and when he did, it was only in the context of his mother. There were no stories about playing catch with his old man or going to car shows together. If the myriad of rusted surgical tools laying around the house were any indication, you had a good guess as to how Bo bonded with his father, since Vincent seemed to get most of his mother’s attention. You could practically see Bo–young, devious, and starving for some kind of positive parental attention–kissing up to his father with claims that he wanted to be a doctor just like him someday. He probably ended up with a front row seat to the illegal and risky procedures that Dr. Sinclair performed in the family home. The one time you had to go into the dusty room that was the late Dr. Sinclair’s office, you almost passed out at the sight of the surgical bed that looked far too much like the one you had been strapped to for months beneath the gas station.

By the time you looked up from the newspaper, not having read a word of the letters to the editor, Vincent was gone, and Jonsey along with him. You sighed, figuring it was about time to start cleaning up from breakfast and get to the laundry list of tasks for around the house. As a result of none of the Sinclair brothers keeping up very good care of the place, there was a lot that had to be done in the way of cleaning. You hated it when you had to point out yet another part of the house that needed repairs to Bo. It was necessary, but you sure as hell didn’t want to push your luck by seeming like you were nagging him. Some days you really thought he was going to call it and either bring you back to the basement or kill you. You weren’t sure which option scared you more.

After cleaning up from breakfast, you began the task of cleaning out Lester’s old bedroom. He’d assured you that he had taken everything he needed when he moved into his own place and gave you the okay to throw away whatever you found in there. It would be a long undertaking, as you discovered when you first looked in the room, full of junk and smelling rancid. You had a bucket of cleaning supplies that you kept under the kitchen sink, all of which Bo had bought for you under the pretense that if you tried something smart with the cocktail of chemicals, he’d pour bleach down your throat himself.

Equipped with yellow rubber gloves and a dozen trash bags, you began cleaning your way through the room. It seemed Lester had developed his knack for taxidermy in his childhood bedroom before moving out, as you found roadkill in various states of preservation in a cardboard box. You shoved it all in a garbage bag, resisting the urge to gag at the smell.

Despite the monumental cleaning job before you, you were confident in your ability to make the room habitable–for whom, you weren’t exactly sure, but it’d be better than the state it was in. It had gotten to be a little past noon when you decided to go through one more box before taking a break for lunch. You’d set aside some things you found that Bo might want, figuring it best to check with him after the fit he threw when you cleaned his room.

When you opened a small, dusty box in the closet, your eyes widened upon seeing a pistol laying amongst other junk. You weren’t sure if it was even real, let alone usable, but holding it in your hands sent a shockwave through you. Dropping everything, you sprinted into your and Bo’s room, finding a shoebox with a pair of heels you never wore shoved toward the back corner of the closet. Your breath caught in your throat when you heard the front door open, Bo calling for you. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to be home. Haphazardly, you threw the gun in the box, pushing it back in place before rushing downstairs.

“What’s kept you so busy?” he asked, regarding you with suspicion.

“Lester’s old room. I lost track of time,” you explained, sweat beading at your forehead.

To your relief, he laughed. “Shit, I don’t even wanna think about what’s in there. If you still got an appetite, I picked up somethin’ to eat while I was in town.”

“That sounds great. Let me wash up,” you said, giving him a kiss before heading into the bathroom.

You turned on the sink, holding your hands under the running water until it was too hot to touch, pulling your stinging hands away and staring at them. Less than five minutes ago, you had a gun in your hands, a get out of jail free card, and now you were going to eat lunch with a man who made your life miserable.

Bo had already helped himself to one of the burgers he’d bought from McDonald’s the next town over. You sat down in your seat, munching on the cold french fries that had spilled onto the table. The food wasn’t necessarily good, but it gave you some comfort with its familiarity. He was in an unusually good mood, which you were sure wouldn’t last, so you relished in it, allowing yourself the luxury of pretending you were having a normal lunch with your normal boyfriend. He told you a funny story about a woman falling over in a hardware store he’d stopped in for supplies. Sure, it was mean-spirited, but the way Bo told the story had you nearly doubled over.

“You got a great laugh,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you said, shocked and flattered by the compliment.

His eyes were bright as he looked at you, but it didn’t last. His expression became serious, and he picked up his hat from where he’d placed it on the table. “I better head back out. I’ll see ya later, darlin’.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, kissing your cheek before leaving.

After cleaning up the mess from lunch, long enough to be sure you were in the clear, you raced back upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind you as you retrieved the shoe box from its hiding spot. Adrenaline rushed through you as you picked up the gun, staring at it in awe.

You bit your lip, silently praying to whatever deity may have been out there that if they could give you one thing, it’d be to not accidentally set off the gun while you tried to figure out whether or not it even had any bullets in it. Of course, as soon as it made some kind of clicking noise, you shoved it back in the box. Vincent was more than likely in his studio, but with how he’d spontaneously make appearances in the house, you didn’t want to take a chance.

As you went back to cleaning Lester’s old room, you tried not to let your discovery burn through your mind. It was so hard not to, though, not when for the first time in months you actually had a chance. You had to plan, knowing better than to be sloppy and impulsive when it came to Bo and Vincent.

While Bo liked to have his routine, his schedule could be unpredictable, especially if tourists came into town. You avoided Vincent’s studio, but knew it connected to other parts of town through a tunnel system. Both brothers were capable of ending you in an instant. They knew Ambrose’s layout by heart whereas you’d only actually seen the town on a handful of occasions, and very briefly at that.

Noticing the sky getting dark through the window, you set your racing thoughts aside to focus on cleaning. Easier said than done since you dreaded nighttime, the sunset marking the end of the day, when you’d have Bo’s undivided attention. The evening was routine, as he expected you to wait by the door for him with a cold beer and a warm kiss when you heard his truck pull up outside. The two of you would eat while he talked about his day, but from there, it was a crapshoot. It didn’t matter whether his mood was good or bad, you inevitably ended up manhandled into bed at some point in the night to scratch whatever itch he had.

Bo wouldn’t be back until late, but you weren’t sure what to make for dinner. Sometimes he’d request certain dishes, and others you’d just have to hope he liked whatever you cooked. Even if he complained, he still ate what you served him.

You headed downstairs, dragging the garbage bags filled with junk behind you. While you still had a ways to go before you’d consider Lester’s old room clean, it was nice seeing evidence of your hard work. Calling out to Vincent, you let him know that you were going to bring the trash out. He’d hear you go out there anyway, but you quickly learned it was a lot less trouble if you let him know beforehand.

The night air was cool as you threw bag after bag into the garbage cans outside the house. You weren’t sure where Bo took everything when he’d load up the back of his truck every week. Out of sight, out of mind, you supposed.

Rushing back into the house and out of the cold, you quickly decided to make some kind of soup, hoping there’d be adequate ingredients for it in the fridge. A major downfall of not being able to get your own groceries meant having to rely on Bo to grab the food you requested and not whatever he felt like throwing into the cart.

Just about everything you needed was in the kitchen, and oddly enough, you felt excited for Bo to come home for dinner, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that loomed over you as you chopped and sautéed vegetables. Things always seemed to balance in Ambrose. Bo’s unusually good mood earlier in the afternoon would be matched with a horrific one when he got home.

You unfortunately experienced such in your stint in the basement dungeon below the gas station, the fresh scars on your body evidence of this. As much as you used to pray for predictability, you hated knowing something horrible was about to happen next.

The soup was almost to your taste when you heard Bo’s truck pull up outside. Grabbing a can of beer from the fridge, you tried to hold out hope, you’d go crazy if you didn’t.

As soon as you heard the way he stomped up the front steps, you could feel all of the butterflies in your stomach die one by one. The door swung open to reveal Bo, covered in blood and sweat. Whatever victims had come into Ambrose put up a fight he clearly wasn't expecting.

He grabbed the can of beer from you, throwing it across the room, leaving a fresh hole in the drywall. You ran into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and rushed back into the living room, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table.

You pulled up a chair close to him, setting out the first aid kit on the table. At a glance, it seemed like his wounds were mostly superficial, so you assumed most of the blood wasn’t his. Still, there was a decent looking cut on his forehead above his left eye.

“I swear to god this shit’s more trouble than it’s worth sometimes,” he mumbled.

You didn’t respond, trying to carefully pour peroxide onto a cotton ball, only for some of it to spill onto the kitchen floor.

He grabbed the cotton ball from your hand, pressing it against his forehead as he hissed out, “You sure are too, when all you’re good for is gettin’ fucked. Mama would be rollin’ if she knew a slut like you was in her house.”

Your jaw clenched. You wouldn’t even be in the damn house if it weren’t for him. It wasn’t like you’d invited yourself. He was trying to get a rise out of you, make you feel as awful as he was feeling. That was his M.O. when he was feeling down, drag everyone down with him.

“What? You got somethin’ to say?”

The clock read 13:77 when you reached for the gun you hid in your pocket. Since when did this dress have pockets? Wordlessly, you stood up, firing three shots into Bo’s chest. His expression was almost cartoonish as the chair tilted back and crashed onto the floor, his head rolling away from his body like a bowling ball.

You awoke with a start. The dream seemed so real up until the end. You almost went upstairs to see if Bo was still alive. You had patched him up, and he had made his cruel comments toward you. In reality, the interaction ended with his demanding you sleep on the couch as he wasn’t in the mood to fuck you, and that was the only reason he let you in his bed in the first place. You were nothing short of humiliated and furious when you laid on the couch with a worn out blanket, crying yourself to sleep into one of the smelly throw pillows.

As you shifted, you noticed another blanket in much better condition was on top of you. It felt like some kind of quilt, not that you could tell in the dark. You hated that your broken ass brain made you love Bo regardless of everything he did to you, when clearly Vincent was considerate enough to cover you with a real blanket.

After about an hour or so of tossing and turning, you fell back asleep. With no alarm around, you could only hope to wake up in time to make breakfast for Bo. There were no dreams of gunshots or decapitated heads this time.

A little after six in the morning, you woke up to the sound of Vincent rifling through a drawer in the kitchen. You sighed in relief. Sure, it was earlier than you were used to getting up, but you could possibly sneak a nap in during the afternoon if Bo was out for the day. You hoped he would be.

You looked at the thick quilt that was covering you, noticing dried bloodstains on it. Other than that, it was in pretty good condition and appeared to be handmade. You wondered who made it, and when. Right away you knew it wasn’t Trudy’s work, all she seemed to have cared about when she was alive was wax sculptures and terrorizing her children. It probably came from a victim, a family heirloom they had brought along with them when their trip ended prematurely in Ambrose. The thought made you push the quilt off of your body.

Shuffling into the kitchen, you were surprised to see Vincent still there. He always made his trips upstairs short and scarce.

“Thanks for the blanket,” you said.

He hesitated before nodding.

“Is there anything special you want for breakfast?”

You watched as he opened one of the cabinets, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms.

“I figured you must be the one eating the cereal. Bo got so mad when I tried giving him Froot Loops one morning, I just gave up on it,” you said.

Vincent shrugged as he poured the cereal into a bowl with a worn out Snoopy design on it.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

His head shot up in your direction, so quickly it nearly startled you. You recognized him signing ‘No.’

“Well, let me know if I am, okay?” you said. “I–um–I can go, if you want to eat in here.”

He motioned with his thumb toward the basement. Right. Two new victims needed his attention. Still, you found it odd he even ventured upstairs. Usually he’d have to be torn away from his work by Bo, insisting he needed to take a break. Even then, he’d do so quickly and reluctantly until his sculptures were finished.

You took your time making breakfast but weren’t sure what to expect when you heard Bo coming down the stairs. You’d been on the receiving end of his wrath plenty of times, from blunt knives to bloody fists, you’d taken it all from him–as if you had a choice. Still, he’d never cast you out like that before.

He stood in the doorway almost awkwardly, and you acknowledged his presence with a slight nod. With this, he closed the distance between the two of you, and you tensed up.

“Missed you last night,” Bo said, leaning against the counter as if he hadn’t banished you to the couch.

Those words were the closest to an apology you were going to get. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to hear him say ‘I’m sorry’. If he ever uttered that phrase, something would have to be terribly wrong. Everything was your fault anyway. It always was.

You shook your head, giving him a forced smile. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”

That was it. Your apology and admission of wrongdoing tied up neat in a bow for him. Unfortunately, his expression fell, and you wracked your brain for what you left out of your statement. Clean, crisp, and concise, there was nothing wrong with it. Why wasn’t he happy with you doing what was expected?

He didn’t respond after that, and breakfast was mostly silent. You sure as hell weren’t going to initiate conversation with the man who made what he thought about you more than clear the night before, ruining what had been such a good afternoon that you had been looking forward to him getting home. Trying to pretend with Bo was pointless. He always ran his mouth and ruined it.

You were relieved when he left for the day and didn’t return until late in the evening. Though you did what was expected, as always, there was a coldness to your actions. In your heart, you’d forgiven him for so much despite him not deserving any of it, but the way he treated you the night before stuck with you more than anything else he’d done.

Your cool attitude toward him thawed over the next few days, getting into the normal routine as he graciously allowed you to share a bed with him again after three nights of roughing it alone, him in his bed and you on the old couch that made your back hurt. Three nights wasn’t even that long, but somehow the separation had made him insatiable, as he practically devoured you as soon as you stepped foot in his room. Hours had passed by the time he finally stopped–your wrists were bruised, lip bleeding profusely, salty tear tracks drying out the delicate skin on your face. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Even though there weren’t as many tourists coming through Ambrose, and even during the “busy season” they were few and far between, Bo almost always had something to do in the wax town or errands to run in the next town over. Lester had come by to visit more often, which lifted your mood. Conversations with him tended to be on the lighter side.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna take a look at your old room? There’s still a lot of stuff in there,” you said.

“Most of it ain’t mine. I’ve lived on my own for a long time now,” he answered.

“How far is your place from here?”

“Few miles. Maybe you can visit soon.”

What you wouldn’t give to spend a few hours outside Ambrose, even if it was at Lester’s house. You were dying for a change of scenery. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. I’ll have to ask Bo.”

“I can’t see him sayin’ no. He’s got a real soft spot for ya.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you gave Lester a smile before letting him steer the conversation elsewhere. What the fuck about your split lip indicated anything soft was going on with Bo? You didn’t want to begin thinking about how he treated his other partners. You nearly laughed at yourself–as if Bo considered you remotely equal to him. Besides, your affection had shifted toward his twin not long after the blanket incident.

When you weren’t cleaning Lester’s old room or doing routine chores around the house, you’d hang out downstairs with Vincent. You asked him several times if you were bothering him, but as no victims had come through Ambrose in a few weeks, he wasn’t as busy. He worked on projects that had fallen to the wayside in the urgency of creating with his living subjects.

The studio was silent, save for the opera music, but sometimes you’d have long, rambling, mostly one-sided conversations. After months of giving short answers to Bo in fear of his temper, it was nice to vocalize what you were thinking, mundane observations and surface-level feelings.

You knew what Vincent had done, what he was capable of, but when you’d watch him work, shaping and molding the wax like it was second nature, you couldn’t help but admire his artistry. His hands were big and strong like Bo’s, but there was a softness to them. You wondered what they’d feel like on your skin, if he’d hold you, caress you with the gentleness that Bo was deeply lacking.

If Bo was aware you had been spending your free time with Vincent, he didn’t say anything about it. Sometimes you’d look at Bo, trying to imagine his face on Vincent’s body. You’d only ever seen Vincent with his mask on, and there were no photos of him maskless anywhere in the house. You wondered if his expressions would be like Bo’s, if he could channel the same meanness his twin did. In the part of your mind that was still a hopeless romantic, you pictured him looking at you fondly.

To your dismay, a victim had come to Ambrose, which meant you wouldn’t see Vincent for some time. As much as you allowed yourself the silly fantasies in your head and tried to romanticize him as an artist, you knew you’d never be able to stomach that overwhelming aspect of his craft. He was just as much of a killer as Bo, but you never had to witness such.

It was only a matter of time. You knew that, but you didn’t expect it to happen as soon as it did.

You decided to make shrimp fried rice for dinner, having a craving for Chinese food and finding a promising recipe in a magazine Bo had given you. The dish was almost done when you heard an unusual noise coming from the basement. Victims usually struggled before Vincent subdued them, but this sounded different.

As you considered whether or not to investigate, a frantic footfall that definitely wasn’t Vincent’s became louder as they ascended the stairs. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

The person before you hardly looked human, and you froze at the sight of him until he uttered a garbled “Help!”

Immobilized by fear, you couldn’t do anything but scream at the sight of the grotesque man before you. Nude and completely hairless, his body was littered with fresh wounds that had been inflicted and stitched up by Vincent.

You scrambled backward, falling on your ass as you heard Vincent storming up the stairs. He grabbed the pan that was on the stove and followed the man into the living room. You could hear their struggle from your spot on the floor until there was a clang and a disgusting gurgling noise. The sound of the pan crashing to the ground made you jump.

Vincent grunted, not sparing you so much as a glance while he dragged the man back downstairs. You tried not to throw up at the sight of the raw, burnt skin on the man’s head.

It took you a few minutes to pull yourself together enough to stand up. Cautiously, you walked over to the door frame, feeling your stomach churn at the mess on the floor. At a loss for how to begin cleaning it up, you grabbed your tub of cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and hoped they’d do the job.

Your hands shook as you put on the yellow rubber gloves. You tried to use the broom and dustpan to sweep up the fried rice on the floor, only finding it stuck to the bristles because of the blood it had been mixed with in the scuffle. Gagging, you pulled the clump off and threw it into the dust pan. A combination of cleaning sprays at least masked the rancid smell with bleach and lemon, and you coughed every few minutes as you used sponges and paper towels to clean the floor.

Besides yours and your friends’ victimization in Ambrose, you’d never been directly confronted with what the Sinclair brothers did. Bo rarely allowed you to leave the house, and Vincent’s subjects were brought to his studio through the various trap doors and tunnels beneath the town. You’d certainly heard things, but seeing the worst of it for yourself was harrowing.

You scrubbed the floor frantically as you heard Bo’s truck pull up, trying to think of how you were going to explain what had happened in his absence, the snafu in the dinner he expected when he’d come home. Your brain seemed to short circuit as you tried to decide whether to keep cleaning or make a run to the fridge and grab him a beer.

The front door swung open, and Bo’s rare good mood collapsed at the scene before him. You didn’t dare acknowledge his presence, too afraid to speak. You weren’t even sure if you could.

“What the fuck happened here?” Bo asked, observing you cleaning the mess of blood and fried rice on the floor.

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you pointed toward the kitchen. “Vincent—“

“Darlin’, go upstairs,” Bo said.

You looked at the floor and then back up to him.

He grabbed your arm and helped you onto your feet. “Y/N, I want you to go upstairs. Now.”

His rare use of your name caught your attention, and something in you snapped. Calling you by your name as if he knew you, as if he hadn’t made sure Y/N was long dead by the time he let you out of that basement. You wrenched yourself from his grasp and ran upstairs, not bothering to shut the door behind you as you curled up on his bed and began sobbing.

Sure, the incident scared you, and you felt guilty for not doing more to help the man. The feeling that most overwhelmed you, however, was heartbreak. It was stupid to have conjured up a romanticized version of Vincent in your mind, yet it was alarmingly easy to do so when you never witnessed any of his brutality firsthand. He was as violent as Bo, cruel too, but it manifested differently. You wailed at the crushing weight of the realization that you wouldn’t have been better off if he found you first. You would have ended up just like the man in the kitchen, your former friends, everyone else in Ambrose. He wouldn’t have saved you. He wouldn’t have given you a second thought.

As much as Bo made your life hell, at least you were still alive. After years of feeling average and overlooked, he saw something worthwhile in you, worth keeping around—or maybe you were just desperate and weak enough for him to break you so easily. You wanted to claw your insides out for loving him anyway.

“Doll?” Bo asked tentatively by the doorframe, the first time he ever seemed remotely nervous around you.

You quickly gave up trying to respond coherently, rolling over and screaming into his pillow until your throat hurt and your head ached. It wasn’t fair. You tried so hard to show him you deserved to be in his house, in his bed, and it never seemed like enough.

When you looked at him through hazy, tear-filled eyes, you expected to see that all too familiar smug expression on his face whenever you cried. Instead, he was sending next to the bed, his eyebrows furrowed in the closest thing to concern you figured he could manage.

“You got spooked, huh?” he asked softly.

A pained noise came from your throat in response. No shit. You wished he would take the initiative to hold you, to comfort you. You knew better than to hope he cared about you, but at least he could pretend. Instead, to your further disappointment, you had to be the one to initiate any kind of tenderness.

Feeling pathetic as ever, you uttered, “Will you just hold me?”

He sighed, his heavy footfall punctuating his reluctant non-answer. The mattress dipped as he got onto it, wrapping his strong arms around you as he gave you an imitation of the comfort you craved. You buried your face in his chest. His emotional constipation wasn’t entirely his fault. The affection and care that most people grew up with in one way or another had almost no presence in Bo’s upbringing, his wrists and ankles were evidence of that.

Speculation and “what if’s” did you no good, though. No amount of empathizing with him could ever undo a fraction of what he’d done to you, not to mention the dozens of other people who met their end in Ambrose. Suddenly, you felt disgusted by his touch, regretting your request for it in the first place. It was insincere, disingenuous, a way to placate you until next time, and the time after that, and after that, too. Sobs wracked through your body again as you considered going through this song and dance again for the rest of your life, however short or long that would be. To your dismay, he held you closer.

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms. The room was pitch black when Bo shook you awake, claiming you started screaming. You had no reason to doubt him. Despite the darkness and false sense of calm, you had trouble falling back asleep.

The following morning, panic rushed through you when you awoke late in the day, Bo nowhere in sight. All you could think about was how pissed he’d be that you hadn’t started breakfast for him yet. You practically sprinted out the bedroom door and almost fell down the stairs in your rush to the kitchen.

He was already leaning against the messy counter, eating some concoction he’d made for breakfast directly from the frying pan. It was the first time you’d ever seen him attempt to cook. By the looks of it, you could understand why he left that to you.

“Bo, I’m so sorry. I overslept—“

“Don’t worry about it, darl’,” he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t made it clear in the past that this was one of the few tasks your survival hinged on. “Why don’t you take it easy today. I’ll even bring home somethin’ so you don’t have to cook dinner.”

“Thank you,” you uttered in disbelief.

He glanced at the kitchen clock, setting down the frying pan as if he had a boss who’d chew him out if he was late for work. “I gotta get goin’. I’ll check on ya later.”

You nodded, pressing your lips to his—chaste, routine, robotic. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said quickly.

Just like that, he left without incident. Reluctantly, you grabbed the frying pan—a different one from the night before, thankfully—he’d just set down, regarding the slop he’d cooked for himself with apprehension. You weren’t sure if it was edible enough for Jonesy to finish. Deciding to spare the dog from Bo’s attempt at cooking, you dumped what was left of the food in the garbage and while washing the pan, considered what to make yourself for breakfast. You ended up making plain toast before trudging your way back upstairs to yours and Bo’s shared bedroom.

Shutting the door behind you, you dug your shoebox out of the closet and opened it, staring at the pistol that was nestled between your heels. The damn thing had been burning a hole in your conscience for weeks. It kept you on edge, yet was a source of comfort. You knew it wouldn’t last. It’d only be a matter of time before Bo found it, and you tried not to think about what he’d do to you then.

After all, anyone else in your situation would have acted as soon as they found the gun. Instead you sat on it, telling yourself it wasn’t the right time, that you needed to plan more. It was all lies. Bo’s undivided attention was torture, but it was all yours.

Besides, going back to a “normal” life after your months in Ambrose would be a struggle in itself. After the pity wore off, people would regard you with frustration for not getting over it fast enough. You’d seen as much with acquaintances who’d gone through traumatic events. The rest of your life would be punctuated with regular therapy sessions and taking a cocktail of medications to curb the nightmares and PTSD from your experiences. It sounded exhausting, and you were already so tired. You’d rather be broken with Bo than broken on your own.

You spent the next few hours lying in bed, considering where to go from there. Having been confronted with the worst of the Sinclair family, brutal and cruel and ruthless, it was only a matter of time before it consumed you too.

As much as you wanted to sleep, you were afraid to, unsure of what nightmares await if you closed your eyes for too long. Instead, you stared at the wall and thought over everything that happened in the past 24 hours, replaying the incident over in your mind.

Rage filled your chest at the thought of Vincent, who hadn’t paid you any mind since the previous night, not even to check on you. He never did. At least Bo felt bad enough to give you the day off, even though he had no involvement in the incident. You couldn’t believe you had convinced yourself Vincent cared about you. It was always you initiating conversations, making yourself at home in his studio, thinking he might enjoy the company. He was only tolerating you for Bo’s sake.

Your lip trembled as you considered how lonely you felt. If one of them didn’t kill you, loneliness would do it eventually. After all, if you were going to be in such a fucked up situation, couldn’t you have the slightest bit of happiness to make your survival worth it.

Bo returned home not long after the sky became dark. While you went downstairs to meet him, you didn’t rush. You half expected him to be annoyed with you for not having a beer in hand for him, but instead, his expression lit up when he walked back into the living room from the kitchen.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bo said with a smile as he put his arm around your waist.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He looked at you with a gleam in his eye that you hesitated to identify as adoration. You assumed too much of Vincent and found out the hard way that you were wrong. In your hours of wallowing, you came to the conclusion that if Bo didn’t love you, you’d rather be dead.

“I wasn’t sure what ya wanted, so I went a little crazy,” he said, gesturing to the three Olive Garden takeout bags on the counter. “Figured you probably haven’t eaten today.”

“I need to get something from upstairs first,” you said. “Is that okay?”

He nodded. “‘Course, just be quick. Food’ll get cold before ya know it.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before making your ascent upstairs. As soon as you walked back into the bedroom, you exhaled, trying to ground yourself despite your thoughts doing laps around your brain. No more talking yourself out of it. If you were going to stay with Bo, you needed him to know you were serious, that you couldn’t take the hot and cold attitude anymore. Either he wanted you, or he didn’t.

Opening the shoe box, you stared at the gun for what must have been a few minutes too long, because you flinched in shock when you heard Bo calling for you from downstairs. Grabbing the gun, you felt adrenaline rush through you as you went back downstairs with it in your hand. You almost wanted to go ahead and fire it just to see what would happen.

His eyes widened, jaw clenched upon seeing you holding the gun. “Where’d you get that?”

“Found it while I was cleaning.”

You cocked the gun, and his chair scraped against the linoleum floor as he got up from the table, lip curled in a sneer. When you lifted the gun to your temple, however, determination seemed to leave his body as he froze in place.

“Do you love me?” you asked.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “Put the fuckin’ gun down, and we can talk.”

Your voice was loud and uneven as you demanded an answer. “Do you love me?”

“I—what is this about?”

“I can’t go back to a normal life now. I can’t fucking leave here, but I can’t keep saying ‘I love you’ to a man who doesn’t mean it when he says it back,” you said.

It was the most you’d spoken to him since he brought you down to that basement all those months ago. Used to brief answers from you, the severity of the situation finally seemed to dawn on him. His hands were half raised as he inched toward you, the handler shit out of luck without a taser or tranquilizer to subdue the lion that had escaped its cage.

“I don’t want you to blow your brains out in our kitchen, doll. I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to ya, just put the gun down,” he said, trying not to raise his voice despite the bulging veins in his neck indicating how bad he wanted to scream at you.

Our kitchen. You were holding a gun to your own head and that was the best he could do. Then again, if he really didn’t give a shit, he could have called Vincent up to help, though you’d be dead by the time his twin reached the kitchen. Perhaps he wanted to do it himself, already having your death elaborately planned out and unwilling for you to take that from him. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. Our kitchen would do.

He jolted as you slammed the gun down on the table, rattling the silverware. His eyes widened as he looked from it to you. Holding his gaze, you lifted your hand from the weapon and took a step back.

He wasted no time grabbing it, nostrils flaring as he pushed you back into the counter. The cold barrel of the gun pressed beneath your chin so you held eye contact with him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, a scowl on his handsome face, chest heaving as he came down from the adrenaline rush. “Givin’ me half a fuckin’ heart attack while I’m tryin’ to eat my goddamn dinner. I wouldn’t go to none ‘a this trouble if I didn’t love you—“

His rant was muffled by your mouth on his, your hand on the side of his neck, thumb brushing his Adam’s apple. He growled into your mouth, setting the gun down on the counter to pull you closer in what was more teeth and tongue to be considered a kiss.

“You don’t got any other secrets you’re keepin’ from me, do ya?” he asked almost breathlessly as he pulled away from your lips far too soon for your liking.

You shook your head. “That was it.”

“Where’d you hide it?”

“Shoebox in the closet.”

His eyes widened at your response. He hadn’t expected you to have it in the first place, but especially not under his nose the whole time. You were either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, probably a mix of both. Yet the fact that you had plenty of chances to use it and never so much as pointed it at him spoke to the desperate devotion you had for him. God, you might as well have just recited your wedding vows.

He licked his lips, “Maybe I can let ya help me out in town sometimes.”

“You mean it?”

“‘S long as you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

You knew what he meant. Being in the house meant you wouldn’t have to deal with victims directly. He hadn’t brought any up to the house for as long as you’d been there. The last you knew of was your friend who had disappeared with him to pick up a part he claimed was delivered there instead of the gas station. This was always coming, your complicit involvement in the Sinclairs’ disturbing cruelty in the name of art or legacy or something.

“Don’t make me kill anyone, please,” you implored, eyes glassy as you teared up.

“It ain’t as bad as people say. The first time makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.”

“Like when you killed her?”

He grinned, giving you a kiss. “Remember what I said when I first brought you up here? I knew I got lucky with you.”

He knew what you were thinking. It wasn’t the act itself that scared you, but rather the possibility that you would like it, that just like him it would be something you did with no remorse.

“One day,” he whispered, voice husky as his blue eyes bore deep into yours, “one day you’re gonna do it too. You’re gonna wanna do it.”

Your voice was barely audible as you answered, “I know.”

“It’ll be the best feelin’ you’ve ever had in your life, doll. I promise.”

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x female reader #slasher x reader #house of wax #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher community #house of wax 2005 #im incapable of writing anything short disease strikes again

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vintagerpg · 9 months

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X1.5: Dead Men Tell New Tales (2019) is to X1: The Isle of Dread what Caves of the Unknown was to Keep on the Borderlands. Sort of. B2.5 attempts to naturally blend its content with the tone of the original module. X1.5 is less concerned with that, which might rankle some readers. I dig it.

Broadly, the module adds two islands to the Sea of Dread. One, Forbidden Isle, has a number of important hex locations and a cave complex. The hexes have a good variety — tombs, villages, a temple, a volcano — and a number of NPC factions. The second island, Cursed Tree Isle, is much smaller and really is the stage for one central encounter played out across a couple locations. All of this is interesting and well-realized.

The controversial bit is the storyline, and how these locations are keyed to it. I think it all works quite nicely, but it does push against the emergent storytelling of the original X1. In short, a local big wig’s wife runs off with a swashbuckler. They flee town with a pirate and the PCs are hired to retrieve them (another rival group is also hired, and is distinctly more murderous). The players must track the couple, deal with the multiple messes they leave in their wake and, ultimately, save their lives and figure out what to do with them. It’s a nice little pirate age yarn!

#rpg #d&d #dungeons & dragons #tabletop rpg #roleplaying game #ttrpg #North Texas RPG Con

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shzmluvrs · 7 months

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very very specific request but 2019 freddy x clown collector reader? like reader collects clown dolls and all that kinda jazz and just how freddy would feel about that

(😭)

For some reason, as I go through dark times, this triggered such motivation and inspiration within me, so I thank you deeply🥲🫵🏽🫶🏽.

Also, I'm gonna name you bc I can pretty much guess you have a thing for specifically 2019 Freddy and that's pretty unique about you, so your name is 2019 (unless you have something more creative in mind lmao-).

~ Star✨️

Circus Baby

Prompt: The weird and overly fan-obsessed didn't particularly have a place at Fawcett Central. But, there they were, anyway, to be gawked and mocked at by the relatively common and "normal" student body. And while yes, Freddy was a prime suspect in the 'overly obsessive' category, he had to admit you definitely took the cake for the 'weird' department. In a good way to him, of course. Besides, who else is he gonna jokingly refer to as a wanna-be Gotham villain?

Timeline: Post Shazam! Pre S!:FOTG

TW/Content: Clowns (if they scare you, you not gonna like this at all, I'm sorry😭)⚡️Cursing⚡️Mentions of insecurity/anxiety and whatever relating⚡️Me being a little unhinged about this subject (for some reason-)⚡️Cringe? A little. But get over it tbh...

Reader: Fem! She/Her/Hers Pronouns! Clowncore Aesthetic/Style!

Requested By: Anon (2019?)

Back to Master List

I know you said clown collector, but because I'm literally insane, I wanna take this a step further...

Reader who is just full steam ahead into the clown-lifestyle😻🤡!!

Surely, it all started at a young age with your odd habit of collecting any bit of clown-related memorabilia you could get your grubby little hands on. But it soon escalated (and I'm betting startling your parents💀) into you basically being a clown.

Well, not literally.

I mean, you entertained the idea that you were decently humorous, and the occasional animal balloon tricks were attempted, but besides that, you managed to take something known for its silly (sometimes scary) wackadoo nature, and made it ✨️girlboss✨️.

And it helped that you didn't exactly shy easy, so you were proudly showing up places in your colorful, rainbow, clown-esque outfits...

Unless, of course, you happen to have a specific and favorable color, to which then it was your clown-esque wear themed specially in that color.

And your creative makeup that managed to be both cute and clown. Clute, if you will. Or maybe Cu-own...? Uh...😬...

And you could never forget about your hair. Unless you're a huge fan of styling and coloring your actual hair in cool, funky colors and ways, wigs were your best friend...

"Places" included school, for the most part, and you had thankfully become desensitized to the rude and teasing stares and the unprompted comments and whatnot... And at some point, so did the rest of the student body and staff, because it was clear no matter what they said, you weren't gonna tone down yourself for them.

Plus, it was fun! You felt as though the positive outweighed the negatives, thoroughly enjoying the bright-eyed and excited looks on younger grade's faces when they saw you occasionally pass through their section of the building, or when you'd actually receive compliments on your makeup from some of your peers. Plus, you were routinely asked to do other people's theater makeup, so-...

You got to try out new looks, new styles, new whatever every day without a care in the world!

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

It was something Freddy found himself admiring about you from afar. It's not like you were exactly hard to miss, but it didn't change the fact that every seventh period, he'd wake himself up from an exhausting school day in complete, full anticipation for your arrival. He adored your outfits, your makeup, your hair, and once the day came when he'd finally gain the courage to speak to you, he'd hopefully adore you as whole, too.

That day came when you two were assigned to be partners for an upcoming project. A bittersweet emotion ran through his chest. Wasn't this what he wanted? The perfect excuse, chance, opportunity to get to know you? He was so nervous, he broke out into a cold sweat. Hands growing shaky and clammy, watching as you approached through the gaggle of other students shuffling around to get to their partners. And once finally sat, he stared, completely tuning out the teacher's next set of instructions.

At first, he couldn't bring himself to speak. For what seemed like the first time in a long while, Freddy Freeman was speechless. In complete awe by your presence (and ecstatic you hadn't grimaced or groaned when he was announced to be your partner), he admired every single detail of your purposefully paled face, the random little specs of glitter, elongated eye and mouth features thanks to eyeliner, and the outfit was definitely another one for the books.

At first, this boy's intense stare up and down your figure made you hope he wasn't actually the weirdo he was coming off as. Granted, you...did look like a clown, but once the stare surpassed the entire rant the teacher had gone on and then some minutes afterwards, you felt it necessary to speak up.

"Um... So, do you know how you wanna go about the project? Or...?"

"Sorry for- Oh my god, I-...Sorry for staring, that was probably really creepy for you and that's, like, the opposite of what I wanna do here-. I just think that this, whatever this is, this whole..." He used a big hand gesture to reference your ensemble. "...Is the coolest ever and I'm literally blown away."

"?!?😃 Oh my god, thank you 😃?!?"

And that was all it took before the two of you were hyperactively conversing back and forth on, not even just style choices, but on any and everything else that came to mind. It was like a force had been sparked between you two, the fire unable to be put out, let alone dimmed. It led to the start of an immediate and solidified friendship. Which, of course blossomed into something more. But I wanna focus on more of the "firsts" for now.

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

Aka, The first time you had entered his home and met his family, which was the same day y'all met. He hadn't prepped you or anything, simply guaranteeing that they were bound to love your company and to pay no mind to any comments they might make. And while sure, you were pretty much used to having that mindset already, for some reason, this time made you nervous. Nervous like the very first time you had truly discovered you even liked this style and wanted to go out in public dressed as such, nervous. It had you adjusting your pins, clothing, and other accessories the entire walk there, and you swore that you had probably stress-sweat all of your hard-work makeup away.

To keep this short and sweet, every interaction was... unique, to say the least. First, there was a tall brunette sporting prep-wear, waltzing around the house with her phone pressed against her ear and determination in her voice to ace this interview for a nearby community college. But upon seeing you, stopped dead in her tracks and (much like Freddy) s t a r e d.

"That's Mary." "Your sister?" "Yes, out of two." "She's pretty."

"Freddy, why is there a clown in our home? Darla's birthday isn't for another four months."

Ngl, that stung you a little, but nothing you haven't heard (or expected to hear) before...

"Wh- No, shut up, that's not- She's a friend from school, we have a project together. This is just what she looks like, this is how she looks." "...Oh :). Well, you're gonna have to teach me how you have such a smooth base, because my products could never. Anyways, talk later, interview..." And with a shy point to her phone, she left you with a grin that you returned, growing flattered at the compliment on your makeup.

Then there was a boy, about shoulder height with glasses, who barely gave half of a glance in your direction. It's not that he didn't see you at all. He just... didn't care. Clearly, too focused on the TV screen that he stood basically directly in front of. "Optimal gaming stance, he claims..." Freddy informed, swiftly pulling you along before you could become engrossed in the Mortal Kombat fight yourself.

You were lead to the kitchen, Freddy rummaging through the pantry and fridge on the hunt for proper sustenance while you worked together. It was there, you were met with his mother, who gave a very "mom-happy" yet clearly confused smile. "Hi...!" She greeted suddenly, which urged you to awkwardly strike out your hand for her to shake. If you knew you were gonna be literally seeing his entire family same day, you would've toned down a little bit, at least. Just to let them get used to it all... but alas...

"Hi, I'm (Y/N). I'm just here to work on a project with Freddy." "Oh, I see! A theater project."

"Nah, science." Freddy corrected with a tone of casualty, kicking the fride door closed with the stub of his crutch, his other hand/arm supporting the weight of all of his gathered snacks and drinks.

"Oh." Rosa smiled again, still innocently confused. And before you could try to explain, Freddy was already insistent on the hurry to his room. It's okay, though, because once Rosa realized what you wore was just a creative, style choice a while later, she found it just that. Creative. And totally supported and compared it to alternative styles she'd seen back in her high school days, bless her heart🥰😭.

On the way towards/up the stairs was where you encountered what you had to assume was Freddy's father and older brother, who breezed past the two of you at first, but then did quick double-takes. "Ohooh, you look sick! What is this, like a statement, or...?" You received an immediate compliment from Victor, a chuckle leaving your throat along with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Something like that, I guess." And then Pedro, who did a scan up and down your figure much like Freddy had in class, before giving a satisfactory nod.

"Cool." "Thank you :')."

Walking down the hallway en route to Freddy's room, there was one more escapade that involved your purse accidentally falling open and your makeup going everywhere. It was the glittery stuff, too, so not only was it an expensive loss, but it was now going to be permanently marked onto the hardwood floor (yes, you felt beyond terrible, but it doesn't really matter bc a. There's already stains and glitter and whatnot everywhere in that house that are permanent, Rosa and Victor have given up on them, you can't convince me otherwise. And b. They ended up renovating by the second movie anyway, so it's fine😭).

It didn't stop you from desperately trying to scoop it all up, anyways, though (cuz I would, too, ngl-). Freddy informed that he'd go to his room to set the food down and would be back to help you, which was fine, but it left you in his hallway desperately scrambling at loose makeup like a weirdo. But clearly, that isn't what Darla saw when she poked her itty bitty head out of her room at the commotion. In her eyes, you were a mystical, magical being that harbored one of her favorite things in the whole world (glitter, duh), and she squealed so l o u d-

It scared you at first, especially when she came barreling towards you and almost managed to tackle you in an unexpected but returned hug. Rambling on and on about what a honor it was to meet you, "...whatever you are...!" She added, which pulled a giggle from your lips, and how excited she was and how she had so much to show you and-

"Oh my god, D, why..." Freddy sighed, having left for what was barely even a minute or so and had come back to find his youngest sister perched in your lap and talking your ear off. He should be doing that! Well, I guess minus the sitting in your lap part.

Unless you're into that🥴.

Idk. Anyways-

"DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS, DID YOU KNOW SHE WAS HERE?!" "😐Yes, I did. I brought her here. She's my friend and we're BUSY, so you need to go back to your ROOM, and mind your BUISNESS, please."

It took a lot more convincing, but after promising you'd converse with Darla another time (without Freddy💀-), she did as told and you two had finally entered his room. You found yourself quiet impressed with his superhero memorabilia, something about it reminding you of your own "little" collection back home. Maybe the obsessiveness of it all, or simply just how much of it there was. But you didn't have the pleasure of questioning, because-

"What the hell...?" "Dude, don't start-" "-I wasn't gonna say anything." "You literally were, I can tell by that dumb look on your face." "Freddy, I guarantee you, I'm not the dumb looking one in this room. And don't get me wrong, it isn't her either..." "Harhar, you're so funny. Why don't you leave and go do stand up comedy? I think you in particular would make an excellent CLOWN, don't you think, (Y/N)?"

"I... uhm...uh... ;-;." You weren't expecting a fifth sibling, that's for sure. His family was clearly very diverse. And at first, you couldn't quite tell if he was getting ready to bully you or not, seeing as Freddy was very quick with his wit in order to defend you. You wouldn't doubt it. Billy seemed to suffer from a bad case of RBFS.

Resting Bitch Face Syndrome.

"Ignore him." Freddy advised, whipping open his laptop while Billy scoffed.

"I'm right here, y'know. This is my room, too, you guys can't just-" "Okay, fine, then ignore him harder."

You giggled. It was grounds for Billy to address you separately/on his own.

"I like your outfit. It just...caught me off guard." You smiled, giving a nod of understanding. "Thanks, I get that a lot."

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

The first time Freddy visited your house was months after the initial meeting. Not for any particular reason, there just hadn't been any real excuse until now...

"My parent(s) have been dying to meet you, like, I swear, if they keep pestering me about it, I was going to actually go insane. On some Joker type shit."

Freddy laughed at your last remark, but as we all know, the boy is quick-witted and smart-mouthed, so it was always easy for him to launch off of literally anything you say with a teasing remark that... sometimes you swore was him actually flirting. But, you couldn't be too sure. You didn't wanna ruin a good thing.

(You say as you literally bring him home to your parent/guardian(s) as if that's not the literal thing you do when-...nvm).

"Oh, so you've been gassing me up, huh~? Cute, cute... D'you tell them how much I adore you? Wouldn't want them thinking I'm neglecting you or anything." "Stop it." You giggled, nudging at his shoulder before pulling out your house key.

Freddy didn't exactly know what he expected upon entering your household. He supposed it'd reflect yourself. Colorful and creative, lots of little knick-knacks and trinkets, endless amounts of stuff to fill any empty space... At the very, very, fantasy like most, your house would be some foreign cottage in the woods that resembled a lot like the witche's candy house from the Hansel & Gretel tale (before it rotted, ofc).

So naturally, he was a little thrown off to find it was his very least thoughts that had come to play, the house almost gray compared to you. White walls, furniture organized hyper-symmetrically, every last item in its very clear-cut place. Not a spec of dust or dirt, not a thing out of place... and quiet. Almost eerily so. Well, maybe not. It could just be the fact that he wasn't used to seeing and hearing a house as such, given his living situation (loud family, messy-homey-actually looks lived in house...). But regardless-

"...I'm home!!" The call out to your parent(s) startled him for a moment, and though you did receive an answer back that sounded like it came from a room close by, it was almost like it echoed against the silence. Freddy shook it off. You didn't judge anyone or anything when you had first come over to his place, so he wouldn't do the same. If anything, they were just loose observations he couldn't help but make/notice.

But anyways- You lead him into your kitchen and there, he met your parent(s), who was quick to make a comment on how surprisingly "normal" he appeared to be. And usually, something like that might sting a little (for you, because like, uh, rude?? But dw, they meant it in a teasing/jokey way). But to Freddy? Normal? That meant the world, seeing as usually, most people couldn't see past his crutch, should they choose to see him at all. But he supposed the apple didn't fall far from the tree in the "non-judgemental" department. You must've got it from them.

That went relatively well, but here came the part you were always nervous about when inviting guests into your room...

"Woah..." The same way he was captivated by you was the same way he felt about your room. It was the splash of color amongst your house. Figures, all of what he'd expected of the whole/entire house would be crammed off into your one room, I mean, duh, where else would it be? It was littered with posters and trinkets and stuffed animals, clothes lying around that you scrambled to pick up and shove into your closet out of sheer embrassment. Even the walls were painted the color(s) of your choosing/liking, and my god, did you have so many different shelves full of things he wanted to mess with. He wouldn't, for now, waiting for the right time to ask permission before touching anything.

And then...he saw it. The corner of your room dedicated to that one specific, niche little thing you loved so much and based your entire personal being around...

The clown corner🤡.

"Oh...my god..."

You quickly spoke up before he could say anything more, the initial shock of your odd clown figurines, dolls, books, whatever the fuck else could possibly be clown-themed/related collection being enough for you to just assume the worst of thoughts he may have. "I know, it's weird. I mean, weirder than normal weird. But-" "I love you." He had whipped his head towards you just as fast as the confession left his person, a lazy smile etched into his features while you grinned almost manically because like, huh??

"...Excuse me😃?"

He shook the expression away, shaping himself back to normal as fast as possible at your reaction.

"No-! I don't. I mean, I do! Like, I meant it like, I love how you're like me, with the whole, "corner of the room being dedicated to this thing," thing. Superheroes are my thing, clowns are yours... obviously, and I love that. I love that you're me and I'm you and we're basically one."

"Freddy-..." You sighed, only able to laugh to yourself and at his rambling before gently pulling him closer to one of the shelves by the hand. "Look at this..." You encouraged, watching him lean closer to inspect some of the figurines and newspapers and other lose things in one specific place on the shelf.

"Oh my shit, that's Harley Quinn...!!" He gushed while you nodded proudly.

"My idol." You added, Freddy turning to you as you explained. "I know people consider her a villain, or whatever. Or that's she's crazy. But, I don't understand how that could be possible when the woman literally has a PhD and was an entire psychiatrist before she met Joker. Not to mention, the only reason she did half of the crazy shit she did was 'cause of that cunt-wad, so when I heard she finally emancipated herself from him, you have to understand... I literally love her."

Freddy didn't know how else to respond. Here he was, in your room, being one of your closest best friends, you talking to him (willingly, might I add, because even after all this time, he still can't even fathom how and why you genuinely love spending time with him and being his friend even though you remind the poor boy 24/7😭), and rambling to him about his favorite subject no less! And how it relates to your favorite subject! A combination of niche interests!! He-!

"I'm going to kiss you on the lips, (Y/N)." "Pfft-!" You snorted, the second confession catching you off guard in a flurry of amusement and surprise once again. But this time, he didn't have any excuses to back the claim up. Like, surely, he could easily pass that off as a joke or an intense way to say something along the lines of, "You don't know how much this topic interests me, especially coming from you, and it's making me so excited and happy and I want to talk/hear more."

But at the same time...

"What, like, actually?"

So now, you've presented Freddy with the option to mean it. For real. Which, like...

"I- Uh, like, only if you'd let me or you did it first or something." He laughed boisterously. "I wouldn't just do it without asking, that'd be craz-"

's m o o c h !'

You giggled. You had left some of that white and red behind on his lips.

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

Okay, beyond this point is just some random other stuff I thought of...

DOING THE MAKEUP!!! Omg the way this boy BEGS you do his face the way you do yours, and girl, lemme tell you, you pop off...! You turned him into the clown-boy of your dreams, call that a Laughing Jack makeover/cosplay.

...*coughs*...ignore that, I had a phase, don't judge me.

Anyways, seriously, I think Freddy would rock the clowncore look so well, especially if you take advantage of his freckles and make them all individually a different color against white/pale foundation.

I also think he teases/flatters you by randomly gifting you trinkets he finds to add to your collection. So dolls he finds in thrift stores, or figurines he saw at a random strip mall shop, things like that.

Hella Harley Quinn discussions ensue, y'all love her.

Kissing him or him kissing you anywhere on the face is always funny because the white/pale foundation will transfer and it's the cutest thing. Or when you hug him and he's wearing super dark or super light clothing so your makeup is just smeared across his shirt and he's looking at you like, "😐" and you're looking at him like, "😕my fault bro🙂."

He also likes to steal some of the dolls/stuffies you might have, so if a clown is missing, you know that he probably has it. Y'all be treating them like your lil' babies, naming them and all😭. He sends you blurry, chaotic, cutsey type pictures of them and it'll have a corny ass caption like, "Jester won't lay down for his nap, I think you might need to come over and cuddle for a bit or something" yk💀.

Him stealing your wigs, too. And just literally any loose/baggy clothes of yours that will fit him. But it's okay bc you do the same with his when you're dressed down for once. He actually is so used to you all clowned up that when you're bare face and in one of his sweaters and shorts, you look like this cute little random girl to him.

"Who are you and what have you done with (Y/N)😧🫵🏻🙊?!" "Dawg😐..."

Ngl he hates sleeping in your room at night. He loves you and all of your quirks, of course. And don't get me wrong, he loves y'all children (the clown dolls n stuff)...but look man, they a lil' scary at night, just staring down at him from the shelves and shit and it freaks him out more than he wants to admit. You have a night light just for him when he stays over, though (it's a jumbo ladybug pillow pet you've had since you were like, eight, but the shit is so bright, it'd be a waste to just throw it out. Plus, it now helps Freddy sleep at night so win-win).

On that topic, bro has been jumpscared so many times bc you play too much and like to place your life-sized dolls around the house. He'll be thinking someone broke in and will be on the b r i n k of saying "Shazam!!" out of total fear before he realizes it's you just fucking with him. And is mad he can't do it back bc you're too used to seeing them💀.

Nicknames!!! Lord, this boy has some many! Just to name a few, "Circus Baby" "Harley" "Funny" As in he'll use it the same way one uses "Pretty". "Hey, Funny, you feelin' okay? Yeah? Okay, good." Also, "The fourth Flying Grayson" which you find pretty distasteful🥴.

If you post on social media, he spam likes and comments on all your post, especially if you make TikToks. He doesn't care what content it is, either. It could be you just talking about your stuff, it could be you posting little scenarios, it could be you showing your makeup routine, you could be making cringey ass thirst-traps for all he cares. You're posting and showing off your style? He's giving you all of his support and love shamelessly. He always does and will💙.

This was long but that's okay, that's just what I do lol😆.

Sorry again for my long hiatus, y'all. I do be struggling in this economy😔✊🏽. I hope anyone who sees this is doing well, Moon and I love y'all's support so much, it makes our day🫶🏽!

~ Star✨️

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nerdieforpedro · 7 months

Text

An amorous encounter in her office

Chapter one of "Do we know how to Love?"

Frankie Morales x Nadia Thomas (plus size OFC)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Do we know how to love? Series

Warnings: cursing, toxic relationship, angst, sex, mentions of drugs, (more warnings later, other topics in subsequent chapters)

“Eddie, I need to talk to you.” Sitting on the bed, while her boyfriend sat next to her on his phone.

“Yeah babe, I’m listening.” This man is still texting on his phone, not even looking at me. This just adds to why.

“Eddie, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“Babe, what do you mean? We were talking about maybe meeting each other friends next week?”

“No, I said we should think about it, you don’t listen to me at all!”

“Nadia, I do, but I thought we discussed this, don’t worry so much babe.” Eddie kissed Nadia on her cheek as she frowned, his hands finally left his phone and ran up her thighs, squeezing them. Nadia pushed his hand away from her and scooted back on the bed.

“I don’t want to date you anymore. You never listen to me. I don’t need this; I am a grown woman.” She stood up and stepped toward the door, Eddie usually would be able to sweet tell her back into things and they’d have some mediocre sex where she might get close, but she would finish herself as he slept.

“Look Nadia, we’re in our mid-thirties, we’re not getting any younger and I don’t see the issue. I pay attention to the big things and keep your bed warm right?” Eddie chuckled and cocked his head back. She wasn’t going anywhere, sometimes she mentioned stuff that he didn’t care about. Nadia was cute when dressed up, larger sure, but he didn’t mind that. She did have a good credit score and a solid job as a school nurse who did PRN work at a hospital, especially during the summer months. She never complained about sex, so he figured that was fine too.

“You don’t pay attention to what I say and I never cum when we have sex if you hadn’t figured that out! I should be entitled to an orgasm sometimes. Fuck you, Eddie! Oh, but you can’t do that right.” Nadia screamed and stormed out of Eddie’s apartment, content to never see him again. That rat bastard wouldn’t know what a clitoris is if it smacked him in the face.

However, she was sweet talked back to Eddie later that night and had slightly better sex, there was at least some foreplay, well if you count sucking a nipple before using lube as they normally did. Nadia had argued a very good game, but she felt that Eddie was right, she was no one’s spring chicken and he was what she had. Bad sex and all.

A year later, Nadia sighed as she filed students’ health records in her office. She had to make sure everything was completed and scanned properly. She came across one record that had no emergent contact listed, it’s September and classes started back in mid-August, no one had caught this yet. Shaking her head, she looked up the student’s name, ‘Camilla Morales’ and asked Shirley, the secretary with the bad blue wig about this kid.

“Eh? Oh, she’s the daughter of that pilot. I don’t judge but I think her father used to use that, what do they call it, nose candy? I call it cocaine.” Shirley muttered, she always had something to say, almost never good.

“Miss Shirley, I didn’t ask you that. Could you just let her homeroom teacher know to ask Camilla to see me instead of homeroom before the last bell?” Nadia asked, sighing again, “And Miss Shirley, you shouldn’t talk about other people’s drug use when your son is still out there shooting heroin and had another OD on his friend’s house. Whoever her father is, he seems to be taking care of his daughter. When has your son last paid child support?” The nurse patted the secretary’s back as she went back to her office.

After sitting back down at her computer, she got a call from her friend Kim. Nadia knew to put her earbuds in.

“Hey girl! You are coming with us tonight?”

“No, I’m going to catch up on Narcos. Eddie is still out of town with the sales team.”

“Ma’am, you need to get out of the house. I mean you and Eddie were going to talk about moving in together, right? Just come and hang, stop moping.”

“I’m not moping. I am enjoying my alone time because I can’t watch Narcos because he doesn’t like gritty drama. I can’t even watch 48 hours.” Nadia lamented, that man really did grind her gears, in her time alone she had more time to think about why she was still this Eddie. She should just ghost him, clearly, she couldn’t break up with him in person.

“Just meet us at this local bar, we’re gonna drink, eat bad food and play some pool.”

“You get aggressive when it gets to pool. Not sure why, you know me and Katie suck at it.”

“Come on, we haven’t seen you since last month.”

“Fine, text me the time and address. I need to go home and get changed though.”

“You better wear something cute! No leggings, no sweats, show them legs!” Kim giggled over the phone, Nadia laughed and stated that she would. The nurse ended her call and small girl with a unicorn backpack, dark twin pigtails in her hair and pink sneakers knocked on her open door.

The last bell dismissing the children to their buses rung loudly.

“Um, hi Miss Nurse. My teacher said you wanted to see me.” The little girl said slowly, her chin was dipped, as if she was expecting she was in trouble.

Nadia smiled warmly and pointed to the chair across from her desk. “You’re Camilla, right? You’re not in any trouble. Come sit, okay?” The child sat in the chair and set her backpack on the floor next to her, hands nervously fluttering on her lap. “My name is Nadia; you can call me Miss Nadia. I called you here because I wanted to know if you could take this paper home and have your daddy fill it out and you can give it to me or your teacher.” Nadia kept the explanation simple; the kid was in 1st grade after all. Camilla nodded and accepted the sheet of paper.

“Miss Nurse, um Miss Nadia, can I wait here for my daddy, he’s supposed to pick me up today. I got all the words right on my spelling test so her promised me ice cream and a movie!” The little girl said excitedly, beaming, “What’s your favorite ice cream? I like vanilla with sprinkles and hot chocolate on top but no cherries. My friend said they sit in your belly for years.” Nadia giggled at Camilla’s question and shook her head.

“No, you shouldn’t eat them often, but they are real cherries and do process the same as the rest of your food. Er…digest. Have you learned about that yet?” Nadia sighed and leaned back in her seat. “Never mind, you can wait for your dad here sure, actually, that way, I can give him the form, my favorite ice cream is chocolate.” She smiled and stood up, walking to the front desk and informed Ms. Shirley to keep an eye out for Camilla’s father.

“Dear, you don’t have to look far, he’s walking this way. He may like some nose candy but if I was thirty years younger….” Miss Shirley muttered, Nadia sighed and shook her head, though Ms. Shirley did talk a lot of mess, she was not wrong.

This man was fine. Eddie wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he didn’t inspire a flush of your cheeks or anything else for that matter.

Mr. Morales was walking assuredly toward the front desk in a grey button-down shirt, blue jeans and brown boots. He had on a black baseball cap with dark brown curls bouncing as he stepped. His face was was firms as his forearms and thighs were. He greeted Miss Shirley curtly and signed in but paused to look at Nadia.

“Good afternoon. I don’t remember you, are you new?” The man asked, with a small smile. Nadia cleared her throat and blinked finally, she felt hot, though the temperature had not changed.

“My name is Nadia Thomas, I’m the school nurse. Your daughter Camilla is in my office.” She said, putting a professional tone in her voice and turned on the balls of her feet to lead him back to her office. It had been quite a long time since she couldn’t face man because she felt sexually incited, but she was at work and about to talk to a father and his daughter. Nadia waved at Camilla, the nurse sat down as Mr. Morales peeked into he office, only his hat, eyes and mustache were visible.

“My hija bonita!” He laughed, a booming laugh that was followed by the shuffling of tiny pink sneakers toward the door. Morales, picked her up and hugged her tightly.

“Papi! I’m happy you came! I’m ready for ice cream! Are we gonna see Barbie? Miss Nadia likes chocolate!” Camilla rattled off rapidly, rubbing her cheek into her father’s stubble. Nadia sighed, feeling depressed that she was jealous a child.

“Is that right? Is that what Miss Nadia likes?” He said looking right at Nadia, grinning, not the same smile he just used with his daughter. Nadia shifted in her chair, she leaned her head forward, using her crossed hands to cover her mouth, a small moan escaped her lips as her nostrils flared. This man was dangerous. She was enjoying every minute of it.

“I do enjoy chocolate. Very much so. Ah…anyway, there’s a form in Camilla’s backpack to update her emergency contact. It would be best if it’s completed and turned back in.” The school nurse was able to get her sentence out by taking a few breaths in between.

Mr. Morales set his daughter down and asked for the form, she took it out of her backpack and give it to him. The father locked eyes with Nadia, walked over to her desk and didn’t break eye contact his deep chestnut eye and her amber ones. “I’m Francisco Morales, I go by Frankie though Miss Nadia. I’ll complete your form right now.” He briefly looked away to fill out the form, she watched his hands, broad, his muscles taut with the movements. Frankie took a stickie note off her desk and wrote his cell phone again. Nadia was about to speak but Frankie cut her off, making eye contact with her again. She couldn’t speak was more accurate.

“In case you want to tell me what else you like Miss Nadia, at a better time and place of course.” Frankie flashed that smile again and stood up, still making eye contact with her. He placed his hands on his hips as Nadia took the sticky note and stuck it in her jacket pocket.

“Daddy! When are we gonna go?!” Camilla was getting impatient, it looked like he was done filling out whatever paper, movie and ice cream time.

“At a better time and place it is Frankie.” Nadia smiled. “Camilla’s waiting for you.” She sat back in her chair, stretching out her legs and taking another deep breath.

“Good. We’ll see about that breath control of yours Miss Nadia.” Frankie teased. Nadia’s eyes widened and put a hand on her chest. She felt attacked and aroused. This damn man, flirting with me in front of his daughter and doing a helluva job at it. It’s a wonder he doesn’t have more kids running around.

He turned and scooped up his adorable daughter again. “Vamos a Barbie!” He yelled while matching his daughter’s pumped up fist and walked out.

Nadia was already in over her head and she had only met the man once. Francisco Morales, a man that would change her life in ways that she didn’t expect.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #pedro pascal character fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #Frankie morales x reader #chapters #sweet #lust #toxic relationship #plus size reader x pedro pascal character

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oskea93 · 2 years

Note

Hello! I was hoping that I could put in a request? I've had this idea in my head for quite some time Something along the lines of female reader is dating Jamie Campbell Bower and is turned on by his character, Caius, from Twilight. I realize that his character from Twilight isn't as well known, but I would greatly appreciate it. And definitely looking for something smutty. Thank you 😊

Oh my, Caius - JCB x Reader

Warning: Cursing, sexual content (@quidditchflyer, I hope you enjoy!)

His growing hair was starting to turn you on.

You had been dating Jamie for a little over three years now, his hair short when you had first met him. You had seen photos of him in the past, his hair various lengths, but the Caius look was always your favorite. There was just something about being the underrated leader of the Volturi clan that nearly drove you out of your seat every time you watched him. Hell, there were times where you would simply turn the movie on just to see the few seconds he was on the screen.

“I don’t get the appeal.” Jamie spoke as he scrolled through his phone. “Did we watch the same fucking movie?”

You rolled my eyes as you continued getting ready for bed. You had roped him into watching a bit of Breaking Dawn before bed, earning a few choice words muttered under his breath. “I think you looked sexy as hell.” You smiled, slowly walking towards the bed. “The hair, the outfit, the attitude of not giving a flying ace – It’s really a turn on.”

“It was a wig, darling.” His eyes connecting with mine. “A very cheap and ridiculous wig.”

You sat crisscross beside him, your night shirt riding up slightly. “I loved it.” Your words slow. “Even though you were a complete asshole-“You paused, straddling his hips as his hands met your bare bottom. “I’d still let you take me back to your dark, dungeons room and ravage my body until the end of time.”

“Is that a promise?” His voice husky.

You nodded your head, “If Caius was here right now, I would be able to show him what I mean.” My face turning into an exaggerated frown. “But-“You paused. “He’s long gone, not wi-“

Jamie’s lips slammed into mine, the breath leaving my body. “You wanna be fucked by Caius?” He pulled away. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded my head, a devilish smile forming on your face. “Fuck me, Caius.”

Moans slipped from your lips as his teeth nipped and pulled at your sensitive skin. His long hair trailing down your body, tickling you as his mouth pleasured you in a way that was new and wanted. “Fuck.” You moaned; his hair tangled in your fingers.

He quickly moved up your body, your lips connected in a harsh and hungry matter. It was as if something animalistic had taken over his body, no longer letting the soft and slow Jamie enter the picture. He was a hungry animal, and you were his wounded prey. Without warning, he slammed into you, your soul practically leaving your body. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“Jamie wouldn’t fuck you like this, sweetheart.” His breath ragged. His teeth sank into my neck, biting down on the already bruised skin.

Thank God no one lived near you because the noise you were making would have people calling the cops in fear. Moaning and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the dusky room, Jamie’s groans mixing in from time to time.

With one last thrust, you both reached the peak – both exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. “That was fucking amazing.” Jamie spoke from on top of you.

You hummed in agreement, too tired to speak, your throat raw from screaming.

The room stayed silent for a moment, the two of you still joined as one. “Jamie?” You asked, your hand slowly moving across his back.

“Mmh?” His head on your chest.

You shifted slightly, a semi fear coming over you as the sentence formed in your mind. “Let’s do it again.”

He raised his head, his blue eyes dark with lust. “You think you can handle it?”

Your thoughts racing thinking about what had just happened. “No-“You answered. “But I fucking want it.”

#jamie campbell bower #caius volturi #caius twilight #caius volturi x oc #jamie campbell bower imagine #jamie bower #fanfiction #jamie campbell bower smut

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maybank-archives · 1 year

Text

revenge - jj maybank

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ warning: sexual content ahead. +18 - minors DNI, oral sex. kook!reader. kinda dom!jj!. language. unprotected sex.

word count: 1.9k

author's notes: this was kinda inspired by 'The First of November' by @thecameronchronicles ! Hope you guys enjoy this "long" format.

masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Lately y/n and I are in an intense situation, either we're arguing about something stupid or we're having amazing sex. We´re not an official couple but I can guarantee that neither of us has an interest in sleeping with someone else, we're good at not putting a label on our situation, we know each other for a long time and yet I still can't understand her attitudes, especially when she acts like a kook.

First of all, she decide to throw a last-minute Halloween party for people that don't give a shit about her, and then if it's not enough that I'm surrounded by those idiots kooks, I kinda started a fight with one of those dudes over a fucking beer I was trying to get. Y/n got annoyed and didn't talk to me since, next thing I know, I'm in John B's pull-out couch and I can't stop thinking about her.

I admit I was a little bit stupid, but in my defense, I was already high so I thought she would understand but all I got, was a "why don't you just chill" and some pissed looks we exchanged throughout the party.

Both of us can be extremely stubborn and maybe that's the reason I didn't apologize to that dick, just didn't feel like it. But now that the effects of the weed are getting out of my system, I'm the one who feels like a dick.

It was all a bit blurry but I remember the looks and those smirks she gave while dancing and I specifically remember how hot she looked in that costume.

She was wearing a short black wig and a long sleeve white shirt which was kinda see through so I was able to peek at something black underneath, the way the outfit fit her body should be illegal because depending on the movement I could see her shirt lifting up and exposing her ass in that very short skirt.

She had a fake cigarette wrapped on her red lips while posing for pictures, I didn't knew what she was until Pope explain to me that she has a character called Mia Wallace from this movie called Pulp Fiction, honestly never heard of it but I know that if I wasn't mad, I would be probably taking her somewhere else to smudge a little bit more those red lips and drown myself into those tits.

I couldn't avoid thinking that I wasn't the only one looking at her, I could feel my face getting hot just imagining things she was doing after I left. I tucked my hands under my pillow and decided to call it a night, it was too late and there was nothing for me to do except curse at myself.

I woke the next day kinda disoriented, I rolled out of the pull-out and went straight to the bathroom, as soon as I opened the door and step out John B glances at me with a smirk on his lips.

"Morning, have you already got a chance to check your snapchat today big boy?"

I squinted my eyes and went looking for my phone on the couch

"No, why?" I said sitting

"Oh, I think you're going to enjoy it...or not." John B said tapping my shoulder and walking out of the house.

I scanned the screen and saw y/n's username in a 'recent posts' tab I assumed that this is what John B was referring to, I clicked on her name, and a black and white picture popped up on my screen, I just couldn't believe my eyes, I stared at the screen until the picture disappeared. I went for a second click and this time I took a screenshot cause I knew that would last longer.

It was a picture of y/n from last night in her costume blowing smoke out of her mouth, while her shirt was completely unbuttoned revealing a black lace bra and drawing attention to her amazing tits, she had a weed blunt in between her fingers and with the other hand she lifting up her skirt revealing more her thighs.

I could feel my mouth salivate, it's been 5 minutes and I'm still here holding my phone close to my eyes studying every inch of her body, my jaw was clenched and starting to hurt. I can't believe this girl, she knew exactly what she was doing and it worked, my shorts started to feel tight and suddenly I was hot and desperate for her taste.

Fuck it.

My fingers typed quickly her name searching for our conversation "hope you're happy, on my way." I typed and didn't wait for a response. It didn't take me long to arrive at her house I rang the bell twice and as soon as she opened it I lock my eyes on hers. She still had last night's makeup on her face and now instead of her original costume, she was wearing just an oversized shirt, no pants, just a shirt, she's trying really hard to have my dick inside of her.

y/n pov

"Can I help you?" I asked leaning my shoulder against the doorframe

"Oh, I'm sure you can, there's someone else in here?" JJ asked entering the house analyzing the room, I shook my head

"No, I'm by myself til next wee-" I was interrupted by JJ picking me up on his shoulders and slamming the door behind us. He takes the stars and finds my bedroom, a place that he's already familiar with, he moves close to my bed and throws me making me chuckle at his attitude.

"JJ what you're doing?" I asked adjusting myself in the bed, he didn't take his eyes off mine, so I tilt my head and bit my lips my eyes narrowed to his, I knew exactly what he was doing, it felt good knowing that I was the one who made him like that and it only took me a picture and posting it for the right person to tell him.

"I think you know what I'm doing princess, you cause this and now you're going to beg for it." he hissed and moved close to me "I'm pretty sure that you know what I'm' doing because I bet that if I ripped these panties off you'll be soaked." I sat in bed and scoff at his comment, but yes, in fact, he was very right as soon I saw him I felt my body beg for his touch.

"Right? Because I guess teasing must feel good doesn't it? But guess what, you don't get to show off for everyone what's mine, you understand that?" I nodded again. God I could cum right now just listening to his voice.

"Use your words baby girl" he said caressing my face and placing his thumb close to my lips

"Yes JJ." I replied

"Good". He said getting on top of me and slipping his tongue into my mouth, he took my shirt out and tossed it to the side, before returning to my lips he gripped my wrist above my head and traced kisses into my skin, he lowered himself to my neck and twirls his tongue into my nipples, he sucked me desperately, a quiet moan escaped my mouth as my body slowly reacted to him grinding on me.

He runs his fingers on my body and slides my panties to the side pressing my clit, he kept moving his fingers stimulating my sex, he kept changing his pace making me ache for more.

"JJ, please..."- I said under my breath as he fasten his pace again

"Oh, where's that little attitude of yours?"- he asked pushing two fingers into me slowly and locking eyes with me, he lowered himself and planted wet kisses on my thighs making my back arch, he kept pumping his fingers inside me, quiet whimpers left my mouth as his tongue touched my folds and I felt like I was going to explode any minute, my walls clenched around his fingers I felt the heat building up, my legs were starting to shake and as soon as he notices he looked up at me stared at me and smirk sliding his fingers off my pussy.

"You didn't think I was going to make this easy for you, did you cupcake?" he asked getting up and putting his fingers close to my lips "you don't get to cum until I let you, now open this pretty little mouth of yours and taste yourself." he said waiting for my response, I do as I was told and suck my juice off his fingers, he rolls his eyes and bites his lips watching me.

"Fuck, look how vulnerable you are with your legs spread wide open to me, sucking my fingers and enjoying it, I'm pretty sure you're gonna think twice before putting on a show again right?" he said holding my chin up. "and I'm also pretty sure that you'll look even hotter with your lips around my cock".- he said getting up and striping down.

I sit at the edge of the mattress, JJ was standing so I had his hard cock in my face already, I held him firmly, my fist wrapped around him I stoke him gently, I didn't take my eyes off him as I slowly lick the tip of his dick "Fuck" he moaned under his breath, I took him inch by inch while I gently held his balls, I took him further and bobbed my head repeatedly he groaned with pleasure and pushed his hips towards me making his cock hit the back of my throat.

He held my hair, pushing my head faster I sucked him hard and fastened my pace moaning against his twitching cock until I pull away for air, he held his cock close to my face and brushes the tip on my lips which were already covered in saliva and his liquid "Bend over" he demanded, I adjust myself in the bed I was on fours and with my back arched for him, a loud slap hit my ass as I moved my hips around "You're fucking beautiful, look at this pussy dripping wet" he says aligning my entrance to his cock and slowly sinking into me, I shut my eyes tight and arched my back "Jesus y/n you're so fucking tight" he murmured as his stokes were deep and intense.

The feeling of his dick inside me was turning into a needy feeling for more, he kept his hand gripped on your hips this whole time, and with his free hand, he reached to your heat and start to massage my clit. "Gosh, J...I'm so close, please" I sobbed, the familiar feeling of your release was close he kept pressing his finger into your folds and hitting the perfect spot inside me. Both of us were getting out of breath "Go ahead and cum on my dick". he whispers out of breath, as my legs started to feel weak.

"Yes, oh my god, yes JJ".- I moaned for the last time, I was now with my hands and face pressed into the mattress, I squeezed the sheets when I felt his thrusts become hard and slow, both of us gasped releasing our cum into each other. He slides his dick out of me as he watches him spilling himself inside you. You turn around and lie on your back when he crashed next to you.

"Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you"- I say trying to gain my

"Keep up with the attitude and you'll see me fucking the kook out of you".- he says picking me up and placing me on top of him

"Admit it. I make things fun Maybank." I said adjusting myself into his lap.

"I think I was too nice and wasn't able to get show you that I don't enjoy being teased did I?"

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