#genuinely desperate because i really REALLY just want this ONE fucking thing to go right for me. god. just One thing.
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god im supposed to be working on a project but i think this is a venty kind of night. i dont feel good at all. im sorry (anything suicidal that im mentioning isnt meant to be taken seriously btw, im just going through it)
#the meowing of a cat 🐱#vent#i dont think i want to go to DC anymore for the con. but i also dont want to go to mexico. and i rlly dont want a job#i dont want to hang out with anyone i dont want to see anyone i want to be left alone. i want to rot in my room#i just wanna shrivel up and die and i want to kill myself#i really really want to kill myself#i really really really want to kill myself#it's really hard to cry. i feel empty and on edge and like ive been put into this earth to suffer and yet i cant cry#and oh yeah here we go. crush problems once again. im sorry my dear mutuals#i love him so much i love him i love him but. i have no right to love him. i wish my feelings never latched on to him like this#i barely talk to him except when we voice call in the server im in. i dont have the right to love him like this#i kinda just wish he could straight up just tell me he hates me so i could finally have peace of mind.#i wish i knew how to talk to him. i wish i wish i wish. but i cant. because my desperation is so obvious and i'll come off as a creep#the last thing i want to do is make him uncomfortable#i think what hurts the most is that no matter how many times i tell him he's my friend and that i love him he wont know#the extent of my feelings for him. im jealous of his close friends because i know i'll never be close or special to him#because i dont know how#i already told him how i felt a while ago in march. and you cant confess to someone again#one time is okay. two times is being much too forceful and desperate#ive been trying so so so so fucking hard to get over these feelings. he's just a fucking crush ive only know for like three months#and yet it fucking hurts so fucking bad i fucking hate it i hate that my brain has put aside the friends who actually care about me#for a crush who even though is a dear friend of mine isnt as close to me as the other people in my life#genuinely think i should kill myself for this and im not lying#i hate this so much i hate that ive been abandoning my friends for him. but i love him so much i love him so fucking much#and i cant just randomly say that out of nowhere because he's gonna know im still in love with him and he'll hate me for forcing him#my biggest fear is he forces himself to like me back. i'd never forgive myself#im so sorry to my friends but this crush shit has taken over my mind and it's not good and it's toxic and i hate it#i wish i had an excuse to leave his life but that would mean he'd think he did nothing wrong when he did nothing to me#the only person to blame in this situation is me myself and i#fuck i reached tag limit OOPS
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#tag talk#why are people so bad at communicating like bro respect my fucking time please#if you tell me half an hour don't make me wait an hour and a half istg I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands#you can't disappear for an hour right after committing to hang out and then be like “oh sorry I got busy” BITCH LET ME KNOW THEN#I literally won't mind if something comes up but you have to fucking tell me you can't just disappear for an hour and then be like sorry#and then you fucking do it again. like. cool I try to be a nice person but if you can't do basic communication then I'm leaving#I would genuinely rather be alone then put up with someone I dislike. I will pick isolation over a shitty person every time#I'm not so desperate that I need you. I'm not so desperate that you can put me on hold whenever you want.#ugh ugh ugh like. basic consideration for others hello? like. if I'm sitting with my phone in my hands waiting for you to message me#that's my time your wasting. that's my evening your sitting on. I could be talking to friends. watching a movie. playing video games.#instead I'm spending it getting ghosted because your communication skills fucking suck ass and you don't give a shit about my schedule#I'm genuinely so pissed. I don't give a shit how sorry you are. don't be sorry be better. act differently if you really realize you need to#best advice I can give. don't forgive anyone. if they change. accept that they've changed.#but forgiveness gets taught as something to be given regardless of whether they've changed or not. they say sorry and you say I forgive you#bullshit- they say sorry and you say “prove it. become a better person. learn from your mistakes. don't repeat the hurt you've caused”#you don't need my forgiveness. it only justifies your actions. I won't forgive. I'll accept the change you show me your capable of.#no one deserves your forgiveness. no one deserves your love. no one is entitled to you just because they perform the emotions correctly#relationship is earned. trust is proven. time is given. if your motives and actions do not match up then you can go get fucked.#ugh I'm still burnt out from visiting family I'm so fucking tired and angry at everyone and everything I hate being emotionally unstable#fun fact I even get clumsy when I'm like this. being emotionally unstable fucks me up physically too. I have to hold things with both hands#and I lose my balance a lot more. I'm just so physically exhausted. I hate being this way I hate being this way I hate being this way#so glad I backed out of the family reunion though. that would have genuinely put me in such a bad place.#only two more days of work and I'm free though. then we're moving which is gonna be more stress but better than family stress#work was getting boring and annoying and I'm glad to be done with it. maybe one day I'll be able to hold down a job for more than six month#excuse me while I go listen to Maretu at high volumes to vent my rage
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Let Me Love You Like A Woman
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader
—-
synopsis: you and clarisse broke up two months ago, and when you’re selected to go on a mission together, clarisse just wants you to let her love you.
a/n: i feel feelings about this one….. anyways i hope you all enjoy!!
Let Me Love You Like A Woman - Lana Del Rey
******i want to make this clear: there is absolutely NO smut in this fic. terms like “fuck buddies” and “friends with benefits” are used but only bc i cant think of anything else lmao. all they do is makeout and it is suggestive at times but there is NO SMUT
warnings: this is so bad tbh, what is clarisse doing, she’s so confused my little ladybug, y/n my other ladybug is confused too, OH MY GOD THERES ONLY ONE BED, swearing, hate make out sessions but the hate is one sided, kissing obvi!, deep talks about our feelings which is hard for clarisse, angst, mentions of death blood and monsters, lovesick!! slightly desperate!!! clarisse my cutesy little ladybug, exes/enemies w benefits so like mentions of sex and such, very suggestive lol, as an actual server the restaurant scene hurt me to write lol, but for the plot, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
The Big House is the one place in camp you’re really unfamiliar with. It’s not like you haven’t been there before, it’s just you don’t go there that often.
And unknown places scare you.
There’s hiding places you don’t know about, blind spots you aren’t aware of- corners and small secrets and rules that you haven’t learned yet.
You make your way up the steps and through the porch, the familiar part- you pass by the infirmary and the random office no one uses- until you make it to the connected gondola Chiron and Mr. D. spend most of their time at.
You’re about to turn and enter when a familiar figure appears in front of you.
It hurts to think about how you’ll always know it’s her.
She seems just as shocked to see you but covers it up quickly.
“Y/N,” she smirks, looking you up and down.
You stop, go to turn around and march off in the other direction when you remember you can’t.
Clarisse La Rue doesn’t deserve the dirt under your feet, even though she would probably eat it if you asked- charmspeak used or not.
“Clarisse,” you mumble, and she frowns. You never really called her by her name when you dated, and you know it bothers her now to hear you say it.
That’s exactly why you do it, of course, but the part of you that knows everything about her and will always love her squeezes at the sight of her poorly-hidden sad face.
She’s been slipping up lately. It warms your heart to know that’s because of you.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, genuinely curious.
As a cabin leader, it’s not unusual for Clarisse to be here. But she knows you’re scared of the unknown, and she knows it’s just not in your routine to come here.
“Dunno,” you shrug. “Got called here.”
Her eyes light up. “How funny, so did I.”
You roll your eyes, fighting against the parts of your body that want to run towards her and the parts that want to run away. Instead, you listen to your brain and feel her staring at you as you turn the corner into the gondola.
“Y/N, Clarisse,” Chiron greets with a pleasant smile, setting down a hand of cards face-down. You almost laugh at Mr. D’s disappointed look- Chiron isn’t the trainer of demigods for no reason.
“Yeah, yeah, welcome,” Mr D says, seeming entirely uninterested. You both stand there slightly awkwardly.
Chiron is known to be blunt, so he of course jumps right in.
“We have a mission for the two of you.”
“The two of us? Like, just the two of us?”
The words come out before you can stop them, fingers twisting together and mouth slamming shut. You’re fine, you try to tell yourself, even though your mind and body agree on one thing- being too close to Clarisse will just lead you right back to her.
Clarisse tries to hide her hopeful smile, but you see through it. You loved her for so long, of course you see through it.
“Uh… yes,” Chiron says. You clench your fists.
Mr D seems interested now, especially after your outburst.
“Oh,” he laughs. “I see.” He gestures between the two of you, “there’s bad blood.”
Chiron presses his lips together.
“Nothing that doesn’t make us capable of going on this mission,” Clarisse says, taking a step forward. She smiles at you, but doesn’t make a move to touch you. At least she knows some limits, even if they don’t matter now.
“Well,” Chiron continues, seeming to regret his decision but deciding it’s too late. “Y/N. Your charmspeak, I feel, will be extremely important to this mission. And, Clarisse, daughter of Ares- your skills in battle are nothing to scoff at. There is an item I require the retrieval of. A friend left it in a P.o. box in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The journey is not particularly perilous, but being a demigod carries an affinity for danger.”
You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I trust the two of you will be able to put aside your… ‘bad blood’ and complete your mission?”
Maybe this mission will be good for you. It certainly nowhere near the kleos of a quest, but more so gives you bonus points with Chiron. That could be helpful.
Clarisse looks at you.
“Oh, yes. Don’t worry.”
—-
“Y/N.”
You walk away from Clarisse pointedly, hoping she’ll take the hint.
You’ve decided you’ll do this quest. If you ever did want to be a cabin leader in the future- you either had to be well liked or the best. As a daughter of Aphrodite, you were already well liked- conversation and flattery came as easy to you as breathing.
Even before you learned how to use your charmspeak, you could sweet talk almost anyone into doing whatever you wanted. You really needed an A on that test? A few tears and some master manipulation- suddenly that A was yours.
But, Chiron needed to like you too.
You do this quest for him- which he choose you for- and then you earn even more of his respect.
It was such a simple exchange. It could be such a simple exchange, except if the girl hot on your heels wasn’t your partner.
She finally manages to grab your wrist and whip you back around so you’re facing her.
She smiles.
“I’ll always catch you, you know. No use in running, really.”
“At least I’ll go down fighting,” you say, looking anywhere but her eyes like portals that suck you in. She’s so close to you.
If this was the before you would wrap your arms around her neck and hers would go to your waist. Even if you were mad at her, she would press her body close to yours and kiss the corner of your lips- Clarisse made it her life’s mission to know every inch of you, and she succeeded. She would know the exact way to calm you down and get you to look at her and hear her out.
And most of the time you were being dramatic, or simply joking, and then she would kiss you and it would all be fine again.
Except it’s not the before. It’s the after, and your heart hurts being so close to her.
“What do you want, Clarisse?” you sigh.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
Your chest blazes. “Go talk to literally anyone else.”
Her face hardens.
“How many times do I have to tell you before you understand that you are the only person I care about?”
You rip your hand away from her grip.
“Shut up,” you hiss, turning and walking away.
“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at the gates,” you can feel her smile. “And then I’ll see you all on our mission, huh?”
“You’re crazy!”
—-
You walk into the Hermes cabin and fall face first onto your best friend Marley’s bed.
She looks up from her book and laughs.
“Oh, babe, what happened?” she asks, scratching the back of your scalp as you pull yourself up into your elbows and place your head in her lap.
“Mission,” you groan.
She stops. “A mission? For Chiron? Gods, Y/N that’s amazing-”
“With Clarisse.”
She takes her hand away from your scalp and moves to your chin, lifting you up.
As much as Clarisse hurt you and you hate her, Marley had always had a special sort of hatred for her. Even when you were happy and dating- you would tease her that maybe she’s actually a daughter of Ares, seeing how angry she was.
She was always overprotective, she insisted she just had a bad feeling about her- but eventually she stopped and you thought you could have it all.
“I’m sorry,” Marley laughs. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
You put your lips right up to her ear.
“MISSION WITH CLARISSE-”
“Y/N!” she yells and pushes you away, groaning as she holds her ear. “My ears are bleeding now, oh my Gods-”
“You’ll be fine,” you groan, settling back into her lap. “I’m the one who actually has to go with her.”
“Actually?” she whispers after a tense moment. “You actually have to go with her?”
“It’s fine,” you mumble.
“It’s not. Maybe I-I can talk to Chiron, or maybe I could come with you, huh?”
“No, thanks, Marls. It’s alright, really.”
She stares down at you, head tilted slightly to the side. Marley has always been exceptionally good at hiding her emotions. But you can tell she’s angry. She’s scared.
She’s your best friend and you will always love her in the most special way.
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers.
The Hermes cabin is always a bustle of activity. But when you’re just here with Marley, it’s the two of you. It’s perfect. It’s what you’ve always wanted- selfishly- to feel special. You feel special with her eyes on you, your head in her lap. She’s your best friend.
You put your hand on her face.
“As much as I hate it, we both know Clarisse won’t let anything happen to me. I’ll be safe.”
“Yeah, but what if she does something to you?”
What if she does absolutely nothing and you fall in love with her all over again?
You always thought that all that stuff about feeling your heart physically break couldn’t be true- but you know it is. You felt it break and every time you look at Clarisse and it can’t be like it was before your heart breaks a little more.
Clarisse acted like you were some big secret that was a chore to hide, and then when you were in her arms she would call you the prettiest girl. It was like whiplash, feeling her touch so tenderly and then not even being allowed to look at her in public. And you wanted so badly to tell everyone that she was yours and you were hers- but she just couldn’t.
And you don’t care about the reason behind that, not after that one night, not after she told you she could never love you.
She doesn’t really want you. She acts like she does, but she only misses you on the surface. Sure, you miss her body, but you miss your late night talks and the way she was always there to protect you, the way she made you feel. You like the person you are with her.
She wants an idea of you, she wants you under her, she wants power and control.
You think maybe a part of her really does regret losing you that night. But, she laid it all out that night. What she feels doesn’t make up for what she said. She doesn’t love you because she’s insecure, because she’s self-serving and power hungry.
She makes you feel stupid waiting for her, but why would you wait for someone else when you could wait for her to come back? You don’t like the unknown, and Clarisse is the one thing you really know.
You look into Marley’s eyes now.
“It will be good for me,” you whisper. “I’ll earn Chiron’s respect.”
Marley kisses your cheek.
“I know. I just don’t want you to go, and I know that makes me selfish but- still.”
“I know, Marls. I know,” you whisper. But this will be good for you, and it’s already been done. You already accepted it.
Marley helps you pack and you watch her anger. You watch her roughness, you watch the fire in her eyes- and Gods, does it make you feel special to have a friend like her.
You only wish you could make Clarisse feel like that too.
—-
The bus ride is boring.
Clarisse, for some merciful reason, decides not to torture you and instead throw her dagger up and down.
But you’re bored.
You’ve been reading a book Marley lended you, something boring and wonderfully distracting about the history of the four wind gods- you think about the wind and not about the way Clarisse’s thigh is pressed up next to yours.
It’s only been two months.
As much as you hate it, you won’t even admit it to Marley, but you’ll admit it to yourself in the quietness of the back of the bus.
You close the book and stuff it into your backpack.
You miss her.
“I’m bored,” you announce before you can second guess yourself.
“Okay,” Clarisse hums, picking at a speck of hardened dirt on her dagger. “I know a lot of things we could do to remedy that.”
Your cheeks flush, but you hold your ground. “I’m not going to kiss you. One, it smells like shit back here and two, we’re not dating anymore.”
“True, but doesn’t that just make it more fun?”
“What?”
Her hand moves to your thigh and you let yourself sink into the before.
“We aren’t supposed to- your best-fuckin’-friend would skin me alive. But we both know you want to.”
“I don’t want my lips anywhere near you.”
She just smiles at you, and you suddenly realize you’ve been staring into her eyes this entire time.
She takes her hand off of you and turns away, and this part of you aches so badly for the before- but it’s after. But she doesn’t love you and she just wants you.
But you want her too. You want her so bad, and maybe if you just let yourself sink into her one more time then you can move on. One good goodbye and you’ll be fine.
“Take a nap, then,” she suggests. “We still have another hour before the next rest stop, I’ll wake you up.”
“Okay,” you mumble, a part of you loathing listening to her, but a nap sounds good.
—-
You sleep the best you ever have since you broke up.
Clarisse was always sneaking into your bed, or you into hers, and she was always so warm and made you feel so safe. You always slept with her. And while you could still fall asleep fine without her- it just wasn’t the same.
You wake up to the sound of the bus doors opening and people talking around you.
“Y/N,” Clarisse whispers. “Wake up.”
You realize your head is on her shoulder.
You push her away from you, she just laughs and stands up.
“So stubborn,” she mumbles, leaning down to dig into her bag for the money Chiron gave you.
You resist the urge to say something snarky back, instead choosing to squeeze past her and out into the aisle.
She’s following behind you in a second, her bag zipping up and getting thrown back under the seat.
She’s right up in your ear.
“I know you hate me,” she whispers. “But you can’t just go running off. What if there was a monster right outside the doors?”
The two of you step off of the bus, the bright sunshine making your squint.
You pull up your shirt and pat your hip where your dagger rests.
“I’d kill it.”
You both know you probably couldn’t.
She laughs. “Is that the dagger I gave you?”
Your face freezes but you keep walking into the rest stop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huff.
She sticks her fingers through the loop of your jeans and pulls you into an aisle filled with chips. You suddenly find a bag of Cheetos very interesting.
She looks at your face, into your eyes, and traces her fingers over the dagger’s handle.
“Hm, mine.”
You miss her so bad. You never knew it was possible to miss someone this much. You miss her body and her mind and her voice. You miss her hands and her lips and the way she made you feel.
You don’t pull away. How can you pull away?
It was easy to ignore her when she wasn’t right in front of you, but there’s this part of you that loves her and wants to believe her. Then there’s another part that wants to see her suffer like she did to you.
You push her off of you. “Don’t touch me.”
Again, she just smiles, and that’s really starting to piss you off.
—-
You’re somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania at a bus stop, waiting to cross the lonesome highway to the other side of the street where a train station awaits you.
“Are you okay?” Clarisse asks, and you realize she’s already stepped out onto the road and you’ve been staring off into nothing. You quickly follow her, half running across the road until you get to the sweet, sweet air conditioned station.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
In reality, you have to keep yourself distracted so you don’t fall back into her. You’ve decided it not about whether or not you love or want to hear her out- it’s about the way she kisses you and the way her skin feels against yours.
You can want her, here, where no one will know.
You’ll swear her to secrecy, and she’ll shut up just for the chance of more. And you don’t know if you’ll give it to her.
The station is oddly busy.
You have this horribly uneasy feeling.
You make your way into the line anyways, snatching the tickets from where they’re scrunched up in her hand, trying your best to flatten them again.
She laughs. You refuse to feel the way it makes your heart ache. You think about the other reasons she makes your heart ache.
You see something, shiny and black out of the corner of your eye. When you look over, the indented entrance to a janitor’s closet is marked in shadows.
But you trust yourself.
“I think I just saw something,” you whisper.
She still makes you feel safe. She’s one of the most talented warriors at camp and she loves you- even Marley admitted she won’t let anything happen to you.
She follows your gaze. And she doesn’t see anything.
“Okay,” she murmurs. She trusts you too. Her eyes flick between the shortening line and the shadows. “Maybe one more minute then we’re on the train.”
“Yeah,” you agree, slipping your hand into hers. You can hear her inhale sharply. She’s not phased by a potential monster, but you holding her hand makes her face flush.
Why is she so fucking confusing?
As far as you can tell, she just wants to be fuck buddies- so why is she blushing as you hold her hand?
She squeezes your hand, and Clarisse is right, you make it to the front of the line. The man checks your tickets and hole punches them, welcoming you back into the outdoors.
You look over your shoulder, and something shiny reflects in the sunlight, still in the shadows of the building.
“Clarisse.”
She seems to see it too.
“I can’t tell what it is,” you say.
She tugs you along. “I don’t want to find out.”
When you finally step foot onto the train you take your hand from Clarisse’s and look down at the tickets. Cabin 4A. It’s near the front, so you find it fairly quick- just a simple one room cabin.
You quickly barricade yourself inside, drawing the curtains and setting your stuff on the floor.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“That was tense,” you mutter. Clarisse holds her wrist. She nods, staring down at your feet before sighing.
Somehow, it’s six o’clock. You dig into your snacks, neither of you feeling like leaving the safety of the cabin to go to the dining cart.
The train car has two benches facing each other, overhead storage and a large window. There’s practically no room in between the two benches- the car is maybe 5 feet wide.
You miss Marley. You could always talk to her from across the pavilion during a meal- entire conversations with just your eyes. You miss your siblings, their conversation filling up the silence. Here, there’s nothing.
It’s so silent, and yet it’s that comfortable silence with Clarisse. It makes you miss the before.
That’s all you’ve been doing- missing things and wishing they were different.
The train starts and you stare out the window, the rolling hills and the trees and the small creek. You can feel Clarisse looking at you. You try your best to ignore the way her gaze makes you feel- but you’re alone in this cabin. There’s no one else here. There’s no one else to know if you give in one time.
Something slams against the door.
You breathe in and Clarisse grabs her spear.
“Should I open it?” you whisper, standing up. She sticks out her spear to stop you from moving forward.
The two of you listen, but nothing else happens.
It wasn’t a knock. It sounded sort of like a ball being kicked into the door.
“I’m opening it,” you decide, curiosity killing you, pushing Clarisse’s spear aside.
“Y/N,” she warns, but you’ve already slid open the door.
Absolutely nothing is there. You look out the adjacent windows, down the hallways lined with red carpet.
You shrug. “Nothing’s here-”
It’s cold and scaly when it lands on you.
The same black shiny thing you saw, it’s slithering around your neck, cutting off your air supply immediately. You can’t even scream you’re too scared, hands clawing at your neck but it squeezes and one of its heads rears up to attack your chest-
Clarisse’s spear sails right through its raised head.
It drops, you fall back, gasping, watching as she pins it under her boot and lifts the spear out of it. It’s wriggling and trying to break free- but she stabs it through its other head.
It’s an amphisbaena. A horrible, scaly black snake-sort of thing with a head on each end.
You rub your chest, swallowing a lump in your throat as Clarisse casually picks up the now dead monster and opens the adjacent emergency exit window in the hallway- throwing it out into the middle of nowhere.
She turns back around, frowning at the blood coating the ends of her spear-
You slam into her. You’re breathing so heavily, you still feel like it’s around your neck, but Clarisse carefully wraps her arms around your waist, letting you lean against her as your shaky hands massage your neck.
No one would know.
Her spear falls to the floor.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s dead,” she whispers, kicking the cabin door closed with her foot.
No one would know.
“Thank you,” you breathe. “Oh, Gods, thank you, Clarisse.”
“No problem,” she says.
No one would know.
“Clar,” you mumble. She stiffens at the nickname. She tenderly brings one hand up to your face, and she wants you just as much as you want her- that’s all this is about. An exchange. You’ll kiss her for the last time and you’ll finally get over her.
“I know,” she mumbles, she feels the burning in her stomach too. You’re connected by that in this one moment, your mutual desire and need. Except she has a need for a new beginning, and you have a need for an end.
It’s so simple.
You both can get what you want from this trip.
“I know,” she says again, her nose touching yours. Your breaths mix in the air. “I know, I miss you so much… so bad, Y/N, you don’t…”
“Show me,” you whisper against her lips, and she does.
You can feel it all, the regret you don’t care about, and the desire and want and need you do care about.
You need to feel more of that. You need to feel special, so when your back hits the the door and her hands are all over you, you tilt your head back and look up at the ceiling, mouth twisted into a moan.
You need her to make you feel special. You don’t feel special without her, without her rough hands and her soft lips. It’s the one trait from your mother that you somewhat despise- the innate need to be the center, to be the focus, to feel special. She’s the only one who has ever made you feel like this.
No one else will ever come close.
“I hate you,” you breathe. You can’t think, all your walls are down. “I hate you so much and I still…. I still…”
She kisses you again so you don’t have to say it.
—-
The bed is scratchy and uncomfortable, but there’s only one- and it’s so tiny you’re pressed right up against Clarisse. She doesn’t wrap her arm around you, even though you wish she would, if only because you’re cold.
Not because you’re still irrecoverably in love with her and you know she won’t. And even if she does, it won’t be in the way you want it.
How can she kiss you like she loves you yet claim she never will? How can one kiss make you so weak in the knees that you’re genuinely considering doing this for any scrap of her you can get?
You stare up the ceiling for a long time, until you come to that weird space where you’re so tired you can’t move and your eyes are closed, but you’re still awake.
She wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your temple.
—-
The next time she kisses you you’ve gotten used to this whole making out with no strings thing.
You’re about to get off the train, so you tidy your stuff and head to the dining cart for pretty pastries and bagels and some fruit. On your way back, maybe 15 minutes left in your ride, someone in a uniform sees two teenage girls heading alone into a room.
When he asks where your parents are, can he see your tickets, you panic and charmspeak him to forget he ever saw this and walk away.
“Close,” you laugh, and Clarisse mumbles some sort of noncommittal agreement before smashing her lips onto yours.
You gasp but kiss her back, just reveling in having her hands on you. Her hands tangle in your hair, tugging back so she has better access to your neck- the side of it already sporting a hickey from last night.
“Did I ever tell you how fucking hot you are when you use your charmspeak?”
“I don’t know,” you mumble, because you can’t think of anything when her lips are on your neck.
—-
The station is luckily only 20 minutes away from the P.o. box, so the walk is quick through the streets of Myrtle Beach. It’s so loud here. There’s cars constantly whizzing past you, people yelling and honking, sirens in the distance. It’s confusing. It’s so different from Camp.
“I fucking hate this place,” you mumble, fidgeting with a loose string on your backpack.
“I do too,” Clarisse answers, but not for the same reasons. Her eyes whip around, searching for anything hiding in the shadows- but the sky is so blue and the sun makes your skin so warm- it seems unfathomable that any monsters would be here.
Of course, they’re here. They just haven’t come out yet.
Clarisse has been angry at the world for as long as you can remember, but you always thought her roughness balanced out with your softness. Ares and Aphrodite, love and war, peace and violence.
You always thought you could bring out that little bit of softness in her.
“On your left!”
Clarisse drags you out of the way just for a man on a bike to speed past you- your eyes flick to the perfectly usable bike lane on the street.
“Asshole,” you mutter.
“Asshole!” Clarisse shouts after him at the same time. He flips you off and continues shouting at more people to move.
Her hand is digging into your arm. She lets go after she huffs, muttering a few more choice words.
She keeps glaring at every honking car and random pedestrian. You roll your eyes when she yells at some random car to go die, laughing.
“Always fuckin’ honking,” she mutters. You know if she ever got behind the wheel, she would do the exact same thing.
“You’re not any better,” you tell her, nudging her hand that’s currently balled up into a fist.
“Yeah, well, I have a reason to be mad.”
Clarisse is angry at the world, but you know she has reasons. She’s not just angry for the sake of being angry, although she finds comfort in the familiar just like you, she is angry at the world that has done nothing but wrong her time and time again.
Sometimes you wish you could have as much fire in you as her. And two months ago, you thought she had enough fire in her for the both of us.
“Why don’t we grab the box and then go to lunch?” you suggest, getting the feeling that Clarisse is about to explode. She looks at you. “We have a few hours until our train back, hm?”
“Yeah, okay.”
—-
Chiron said this mission wasn’t going to be that dangerous, but you are surprised when it really is that easy. You take the key out from the envelope Chiron gave you, opening the blue box and coming out with a small box. It almost looks like some sort of fancy necklace- a long black box with a silver bow on the outside.
“This feels too easy,” Clarisse says as you lean down to carefully place it in your bag.
You shrug. “You’re always so paranoid, just let it all come naturally. Some things are easy, Clar.”
She stares at you for a moment.
“I guess,” she says, sticking out her hand to help you up before you both make your way back out onto the streets.
Her spear is hidden by the mist, strapped to her back, and you’re sure she has a bunch of little daggers strapped all over her. You scan the busy street.
Clarisse snorts at a restaurant called “Mother Earth Green Food” and her eyes light up at the sight of a 80’s style diner- “Mr. Steve’s Burgers and Bacon”.
“We’re going there,” she declares, and you roll your eyes but follow her across the street. It’s not that busy, seeing as it’s still early, so you’re seated quickly. It feels so good and so wrong to be here across from her like this.
It feels like before. Except some sort of alternate reality, where you actually left camp and got to be like this. You still want her and your trip’s not over yet, so you sink into it.
“Hey guys, I’m Miley and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you for drinks?”
She’s got long dirty blonde hair, tied up in two very neat and impressive space buns. Her skin is tan, but you suppose if she lives near the beach then everyone’s skin is tan, really.
“I really like your hair,” you tell her, pointing to the side of her head. She smiles and bounces one of them in her hand.
“Took me forever,” she chuckles. “I love yours, such a pretty color.” You cheeks blush as you thank her.
She smiles at you and goes off to get them, so you turn back to your menu. Clarisse’s foot taps against the floor.
“What are you thinking of getting?”
She sets her menu down and points to some sort of monstrous burger called “The Bomb.”
You laugh. “The Bomb,” you mock. “Will it explode in your stomach, or something?”
She mumbles something under her breath, staring off towards the counter, and you can tell by the look on her face it’s not anything nice.
“What was that?”
She presses her lips together. “Nothing,” she hums.
You shoot her an odd look but she pointedly looks away, and as much as you want to, you decide not to push.
Miley comes back with your drinks, and you thank her as she sets them down. Clarisse mumbles a thank you too after you kick her foot.
“Okay, and what can I get you guys to eat today?”
You have to kick Clarisse again to remind her to say please.
You smile apologetically up at Miley for Clarisse’s sour mood, but she seems not to care, smiling back at you and saying something about how she’ll make sure it’s out quick for you.
“‘I’ll make sure it comes out quick for you,’” Clarisse mocks, her voice a pitch higher.
“Yeah. Isn’t she so nice? And yet here you are treating her like shit.”
“She’s sucking up for a good tip.”
“Or maybe she’s just nice, Clarisse. There are nice people in the world, you know. Not everyone is all dark and brooding or bitchy.”
The silences stretches for a second too long. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
You hum, sitting on your hands and staring out the window. It’s times like this your miss your mortal childhood, having access to electronics meant you were never bored. You debate taking out the book Marley loaned you, but you don’t get the chance to.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Clarisse announces. “Come with me.” She’s already walking away.
“Who’s gonna watch our stuff?”
“Tell fuckin’ Miley to do it, I don’t care.”
You look around. There’s not many people in the restaurant, and you’re curious and bored- so you follow her. The door swings closed behind her, and it takes you a second to follow her in.
You think she’s disappeared, the bathroom empty with two open stalls. The door is kicked closed behind you. You turn around and Clarisse pushes you into the nearest bathroom, her hands on your waist- you moan in surprise, letting her flip the two of you around and press you against the door, her hand leaving your waist to make quick work of the lock.
“Clarisse,” you breathe. “What’s going on?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
You don’t answer and she kisses you deeper.
—-
“Clarisse.”
She’s been smiling at your neck a little too obviously, and when she finally lets you out from under her lips and hands, you immediately turn around and head for the mirror.
“Clarisse,” you repeat.
She’s looking at you in the mirror and smiling. Actually fucking smiling.
“What is wrong with you?!” you yell, turning on the cold water and frantically bringing it to the red hickies on your neck. “Are you a vampire? Oh, my Gods, Clarisse, this is so fucking embarrassing!”
“It’s not,” she huffs. “You’ll be fine.”
“Cl-” but she’s already left. She really has to stop doing that.
—-
Lunch is fine, you leave Miley a nice tip, even though Clarisse scoffs and mumbles that she wasn’t that good- but you feel so bad that she had to watch you wiggle in your seat, desperately trying to hide your neck as Clarisse ran her foot up and down the side of your leg.
You ignore her the entire walk to the station, she barely hides the smug look on her face. Is she just intent on making you seem stupid and weak? Does she want to embarrass you? She knows. She knows you’re still in love with her and she’s playing you like a fiddle.
You thought Clarisse to be a lot of things, and you know she’s cruel and ruthless- but you never thought she could be this way towards you.
You make it onto the train with no problems, and you’re desperate to just get out of this place and back to camp where you can ignore her. You had one last final hurrah, and now you need to forget her.
You stare pointedly out the window. You ate dinner in the dining cart in silence, Clarisse didn’t try to touch you again, but she seems bored of letting you sulk now that there’s nothing else to entertain her.
It’s only about 7:00 pm- you still have an entire night with her, and a bus ride the next day. Why are the Gods torturing you like this?
“Y/N,” Clarisse says. You’re sitting across from each other. Her foot kicks at yours. “C’mere,” she pats the space next to her on the bench.
You snort. “You’re crazy. I’m not sitting near you.”
She shrugs and stands up, sitting next to you while you gasp in exasperation.
“Bitch,” you mumble, clenching your fists at you stand. She plants her hand on the window, trapping you in with her arm.
“Don’t be mean.”
You fold your arms and stare out the window. She’s right at your shoulder, whispering in your ear even though your alone- it makes you feel so special your head gets all dizzy.
“I want you, Y/N.” Not the way you want her.
“I. Don’t. Care.”
She laughs. You can see her reflection in the mirror, she’s laughing and smiling fondly- staring at you.
You whip around and point your finger at her.
“I won’t let you treat me like a rag doll anymore.”
Her smile falls.
“I used to be something you could just swing around, but I’m not anymore. I won’t ever be a toy for you, Clarisse. These past two days were fun, but they were goodbye. When we get back to Camp I’m getting over you, because I’ve spent too much time waiting for you.”
Her hand falls from the window, and she backs away from you.
—-
When you realize that this train also features another small, single bed, you resist the urge to stomp your feet like a child. Instead, you pretend like it’s all fine, a part of you pretends it’s that alternate before- Clarisse turning around while you change and you leave to brush your teeth and then you come back to her in bed.
You lay down, body unwillingly pressed up against hers. She doesn’t touch you, at least, and it’s tense and silent until she breaks it. Her hand finds yours through the sheets and blankets.
“Y/N.”
You try to shake her hand off of you, mumbling that she’s using your tiredness to manipulate you.
“Do you really think that’s all you were to me?”
You’re frozen, she’s right up against your back, breath tickling your shoulder and voice in your ear again.
Your hand still fits perfectly in hers.
“A toy?”
“What else was I supposed to think?”
She utters the two words you never thought you would hear her say.
“I’m sorry.”
Your breathe hitches.
“I-I know I’ve been stupid, I’m not totally dumb. I just, I had it in my head that I could make you fall in love with me all over again. And then I could do it right, I could fix it, and you could teach me how to love you and I would do it right, Y/N. And then I… I got jealous. Because that fucking server was flirting with you, she was, and I got fucking jealous and I fucked it all up.”
She’s breathing heavily at your shoulder.
“I was scared, Y/N. And that… I didn’t know how to deal with that. I was scared because I love you so much I know I would do anything you asked me too. So, I said those stupid things that night, I just lied because I was scared, and I’ll never forgive myself for the way I made you feel. I don’t deserve another chance, but I want to show you that I can do it right. I can do it however you want me too, as long as you teach me.”
It’s silent for a moment.
“I want you to let me love you.”
She lets go of your hand.
“You don’t have to say anything, I guess,” she swallows. “I mean, if I was you I would have killed me-”
“Really?” you voice comes out like a broken whisper, sitting up so you can look into her eyes. You try to tell if she’s lying, but you can’t. It hurts and it aches so good and she’s not lying.
“Y-yeah, I would have killed me.”
You smile. “No, dumbass, do you really love me?”
“Oh,” she blinks, sitting up too. “Y/N, I love you so much that I’ll never be the same person again.”
You don’t want to kiss her. All you’ve been doing is kissing her, sinking into that hard and rough side of your relationship that’s just hot desire.
But there’s a soft part to Clarisse that you bring out. And you bring it out now, winding your arms around her neck, breathing heavily as you rest your head on her shoulder. She hugs you, her arms are so strong, she always gives the best hugs- and kisses your temple like she did when she thought you were sleeping.
She loved you even when she didn’t know you would feel it.
Your fingers dig into her back.
“I love you,” she says again, softly, like she’s caressing the words with such a reverence that they were bathed in golden ichor. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too,” you say back, you let her love you, and it’s the most true thing you’ve ever known.
—-
“Ah, young warriors!” Chiron says, holding his hands out.
Of course, on the tail end of your trip you had encountered tons of little monsters- more amphisbaena, even a juvenile drakon that could barely spit acid. Clarisse had made a dazzling show of killing all of them, and unlike the first amphisbaena- none of them got close enough to touch you.
You had to charmspeak the train conductor, the police officer at the station, and the bus driver. You wonder faintly if your mother had been looking out for you, helping you love Clarisse again.
Of course, all of those instances ended in Clarisse pulling you into the nearest corner.
It’s different, now that you know that you live each other. She still kisses you with that rough deepness, like she’s starved, like she’s trying to breathe you in, but her hands are so soft around you. She holds your waist close to you, not like she just wants to feel you body, but like she just wants to be close to you.
You swing your backpack off of your shoulder, you can feel your mascara smeared down your face from the heat, digging into your bag for the black box.
Chiron smiles and holds his hands out for you to place them in. “You have my thanks,” he says, laying the box into his hand.
You’re surprised when all he does is take out a simple pen. It looks like a nice pen, sure, but still just a pen.
He uncaps it, letting it fall to the concrete, when it suddenly transforms into a sword. You yelp and jump back, Clarisse puts her arm in front of you, and Chiron laughs triumphantly.
“Beautiful!” he says, admiring the carefully crafted sword.
Mr. D dissolves into a fit of laughter. “No more bad blood, huh?”
Clarisse drops her hand from where it reaches for her spear, and her other arm from across your body. Her hands drop to her sides, her face turns back into a mask of indifference and she shrugs.
Mr. D seems to find that even more funny, and Chiron dismisses you with a wave of his hand, staring in awe at the silver sword.
Clarisse presses her lips together into a tight line until you smack a kiss on her cheek.
“Love you,” you sing, and her face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s the only thing you ever want to know. All you need to know is her and her love.
—-
marley when she finds out clarisse and y/n are dating again: if you EVER and i mean EVER hurt her again i will torture you in ways not even imagined yet.
clarisse: ok yes i promise 😟😟
—-
clarisse when she realized she was in love with y/n: NO NO NO NO NEW FEELINGS NO I REJECT THIS AND I MUST RUN AWAY IN FACT THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
also clarisse when she realized she just broke up with y/n: OH GODS NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHAT HAVE I DONE NO NO NO NO PLEASE NO NO NO
—-
honorable mention to y/n fuck em’ and hate em’ l/n
another honorable mention to clarisse “none of them got close enough to hurt you” la rue
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish
@sincerely-silk @lacytalks
—-
pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you!!
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo tv show#pjo x reader
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SKZ and their kinks (OT8)
Pairings: OT8 x reader (f)
Warnings: Smut, MDNI
Chan (praise)
Chan loves praising you in the bedroom
I genuinely believe this man is the most vocal partner, especially if you’re pleasuring him, he needs to let you know what a good job you’re doing.
“That’s so good… your mouth feels so good around my cock,” he’ll say as you look up at him with big eyes.
“Ugh you’re clenching around me so tight baby,” he says. “Like this pussy was made for me.”
If you let him onto the fact that you really like praise in the bedroom, this man will be insatiable.
He’ll praise you through every orgasm and every interaction, loving the way that you get flustered and your eyes flutter when he speaks.
If you praise him in the bedroom? It fuels him to keep going because he loves to be told that he’s doing a good job, that he’s the one that’s making you feel good.
“God, baby, love this pussy. Love making you feel good, you’re so good for me. Give me one more, yeah?”
Lee Know (sex toys)
Lee Know is super into using sex toys in the bedroom, to the point that I think he’s the one that suggests it to you. If you’re not sure about it he’ll ease you into it.
Goes shopping to buy toys specifically for you and gets hard just thinking about using them on you.
Loves watching you completely fall apart for him as he runs a vibrator through your folds. When you cum for him your orgasm is so intense and I think he’ll talk you right through it.
“Look so pretty for me like this… Yeah baby, just like that. Just let go for me.”
Will slowly fuck you with the toy through your aftershocks until your legs stop shaking.
If you’re still feeling needy once you finished, will absolutely fuck you with his cock after. He loves when you’re overstimulated and pliant for him, and will absolutely use the vibrator on you while he’s fucking you just to see the fucked out expression on your face.
I also think Lee Know could fuck you with various toys for hours without ever getting his own release. He just loves watching the way that you contort underneath him and the faces you make as you cum for him again and again.
“Fuck, does that feel good? Is that hitting your g-spot just right?” he asks as he fucks a dildo into you. “You’re doing a good job, love. One more and then I’ll let you cum all over my cock.”
Changbin (strength/manhandling)
The first time he realizes that you like being man-handled, he’s over the moon. The first time you were acting up a little bit and you weren’t getting into the position he wanted you to, he grabbed you and put you there himself. You moaned so loudly and it went straight to his head.
“Yeah? You like that?” he asks smugly. “You like it when I’m rough and put you in your place?”
When you explain to him that it’s his muscles and knowing that he has the strength to do whatever he wants with you and knowing that he can be rough without going too far, he literally preens.
He likes showing you that he can fuck you against the wall with you in his arms, your legs around his waist without breaking a sweat.
Gets so smug if you’re riding him and your legs give out so he can take over.
He loves holding your full weight above his cock so that he can piston into you at full force. When you throw your head back and you’re completely putty in his hands, it completely fuels his ego. You love when he gets like this.
Hyunjin (role play)
Have you seen this man? He’s absolutely the most dramatic person I’ve ever seen in my life.
This makes me think if you ever did role play, he would get super into it.
One time, he hits on you at the bar, pretending to be a stranger looking for a hookup. You genuinely believe him when he takes you home and his hands are on you, asking for your name and promising you he’ll be the best fuck you’ve ever had.
“God, this is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he says. “Please don’t let this be a one-time thing, I’ll do anything for you to let me come back.” He sounds desperate as he licks a stripe up your pussy even though he’s had it for himself a hundred times before.
I also genuinely believe he would be super into professor/student roleplay.
You’re telling me you can’t picture this man telling you he has to ‘punish’ you for your bad grades? He’s super into it.
“God, what a good girl, letting your professor fuck you with his cock. Fuck, think you deserve an A for this, God, baby.”
Han (edging)
I think the first time that Han edges you is by complete accident.
You tell him you’re getting close but he wants it to last a little longer so he pulls out thoughtlessly. But, as tears start forming in your eyes and streaming down your face, he realizes he loves watching you squirm and beg for him to just put it back in, to please just let him fuck you again.
After he edges you so many times, I think he would try it himself too and realize just how much he likes it, that it makes you both just that more desperate and the orgasm even greater.
You’ll both be whimpering and near your orgasm for the fifth time that night but he pulls out nonetheless, relishing in your whines for him.
“Just one more… hold out for me, please. God, it’ll feel so good, you can do it for me, can’t you?”
When you finally explode around him he’s so close behind, fucking you both hard through one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.
“God, baby, oh my god, feels so good. Baby oh my god, pussy feels so good for me, thank you,” he says as he finally slumps down, covering your body with his own.
Felix (recording)
The first time you sent him an audio of you moaning, you awakened a beast in Felix. He begs you to let him download it onto his phone to keep forever. He starts listening to them in public, absolutely turned on by the fact that a.) nobody knows what he’s listening to and b.) he’s the only one that gets to hear you like that
He’s so turned on by this, in fact, that he begs you to let him record an audio of you two having sex.
“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he grunts as he pounds into you. “Be nice and loud so I can hear you, make all the noises you know I like.”
Shows off in a way that gets you to moan as loud as you possibly can and doesn’t let you muffle any of the sounds you’re making.
Listens to the audio as soon as you’re done, already getting hard again.
Seungmin (degradation)
Hard dom Seungmin agenda
I think Seungmin would be super mean to you leading up to sex, and especially during it. If he knows that him being mean to you turns you on, he will totally use it against you.
“God, you’re such a pathetic slut for me, baby. Look at you pushing your thighs together. So needy for this cock, right?”
Loves looking you in the eye when he says mean things to you because he loves the way you get so flustered and humiliated when he speaks to you.
If you cum fast? It turns him on so much.
“Cumming for me already? God, I knew you were desperate. I’m not even close yet, ha. Think this greedy pussy can give me another? Of course it can.”
On the other hand, I also think Seungmin would give the best aftercare.
“Did so good for me,” he says as he strokes your hair. He cradles you closer to his chest.”You’re so perfect for me.”
IN (hair pulling/humiliation)
I think when I.N. realizes that you like getting your hair pulled, he just uses it as a way to tease you and get you flustered at first.
He’ll walk by when you’re unsuspecting and yank on your hair hard, smirking at the way you let out a loud groan at his actions. Then he’ll walk away as if nothing happened, hands in his pockets.
This will go on for so long that it drives you nuts. You start begging him that if he’s going to do that to just please, do something more so that you’re not so wound up around him all the time.
One day his hand snakes into your hair and you’re already whimpering, and he hasn’t even pulled it at all yet. This makes him go absolutely feral, the way you’re so needy for him, that he crashes his lips into yours.
Eventually it goes further and he has you bent over the couch, fucking into you from behind.
He yanks your hair, using it as a way to pull your body up into him.
“Look so good like this. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted my cock in you for so long, don’t know how bad I’ve wanted you. You’re such a pain slut for me, just for me.”
God, I love this type of post so much. I don't care how many writers do this, I'll read it every single time. <3
Masterlist Recs
#skz#skz x you#skz smut#skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids#bang chan x you#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan#lee know#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know smut#changbin#seo changbin#minho#changbin x you#changbin smut#changbin x reader#stray kids imagines#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x you#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin x reader
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kinda hyper-fixated on riding stiles and calling him a big boy at the same time.
because this man boy would sit there underneath you, bottom teeth scraping at his upper lip as he tries to contain his pretty whimpers that kept escaping him. his fingers gripping, digging into the pudgy fluff of your hips and thighs. “y’so tight.”
your nails scratched at his v-line, deep red lines being left by pretty maroon nails—his favorite colors. “jus’so fucking big, sti…” you breathed out, “such a big boy, hmm?”
“mm-mhm.” he whines softly. stiles couldn’t believe how turned on he was by her dirty words, by how much he wanted to please her. who knew such an innocent, doe-eyed girl could spew such filthy words from such a pretty mouth.
you couldn’t help it, with the way he was stretching your walls and pressing those oh so good spots inside you that your own fingers couldn’t reach, how were you supposed to maintain that ingenuousness?
his nails burrowed into your soft skin, leaving little crescent shapes. his eyes were glued to where he disappeared inside you with each bounce and thrust. the wet squelching noises were squalid, and most times he couldn’t hear much else. only when his view was obstructed by your face did his pull his eyes up to meet yours. you flattened yourself against him; your stomach on his, and your breasts resting on his chest. to stiles, the feeling of skin-on-skin contact was worth more than words. it was the only thing that could bring him back to this planet after you overworked him.
you smiled when you saw those gorgeous brown eyes of his finally connecting with yours. “there we go.”
stiles was overwhelmed; you were on top of him, giving him so many sensations, so many things to touch or relish in. he couldn’t choose. you leaned down to darken the fading hickey right at the base of his neck, having given him one in that spot a few days ago. you simply didn’t see a point in letting it fade. he might as well have gotten it tattooed if he wasn’t so afraid of needles.
a deep-purple mark bloomed right over the spotty red one, and you made sure he would still be able to hide it with his flannels for a few days. your thumb wiped the spit from the bruised skin so you could get a full view of your work. stiles knew he’d be admiring the mark in every mirror he passed by, thankful that it was only one tug of a shirt collar away.
your hips rocked against his, not even pulling up anymore. you just loved the way his tip grazed your cervix—like scratching an itch only he could get—and how your swollen clit ground against his lower abdomen.
“you’re so perfect,” his words came from a place deep in his mind, so breathy, so pussydrunk, “i love you.”
knowing stiles didn’t even care for a response in return, not that he’d even be aware of one, you kissed his swollen lips (both his and your doing) to bring him back down to earth, even if only for a few seconds. you thumbed over the plush skin, purely admiring your boy, feeling both proud of and admirable of his prevailing state.
“you’re so good, sti.” the words weren’t really meant as a praise for him. rather, you said it because you genuinely meant it. “my big boy. fillin’ me up so well.”
you swore you saw something behind his eyes malfunction. his cock twitched inside you as he grasped at your hips, unintentionally taking control for just a few seconds so he could move you back and forth, his dick slapping against your spongy walls. your fingers pressed into his shoulders as you clung around him like a vice.
stiles was whimpering desperately and hastily, each one interrupting the next. it was so refreshing that stiles wasn’t afraid to let those sound freely flow from his pretty mouth or be loud for you. he didn’t care if his noises weren’t deep and guttural, although they certainly could be at times. and you favored either or depending on who was taking care of who; his whiny whimpers and soft moans coming out when he was desperate and being especially needy, or his low, throaty groans and praises when he needed to show you how much he loved you.
“i—shit,” he whimpered, high pitched and needy like you adored. “f-fuck,” stiles groaned deeply. it was so broken up, his voice so cracked, so desperate that it sounded like he was pleading. not pleading for a release, but pleading for forgiveness. you quickly felt his reason for pleading spill inside you: warm and thick.
“sorry, sorry, m’sorry.” stiles’ breaths were reduced ragged gasps as he clutched your waist, his arms finding their home around your body. “love you so much.”
you bit your lip at the gushing feeling flooding your already-filled hole. “hmnn, stiles.” you felt him bury his face in your neck, sweaty skin on sweaty skin as he murmured apologies and compliments of how good you feel.
it was moments like these that softened your heart even through such intimacy; moments where he came without warning or any signs, where his forehead nestled perfectly in the curve at the base of your neck, where he was reduced to muffled, strangled whines and sometimes apologies if he could muster them. and all because of a few words—of course with the help of being inside you, but you were sure you could probably just make him come with your words alone.
somewhere along the way of your cunt throbbing in time with his milked cock, and slowly lifting your hips only to drop them back down lazily, you found your own sweet release. stiles was slightly overworked, slightly overstimulated, but this was such a perfect sight in your eyes.
you took a peek down at where the two of you connected, and a thin, white-ish ring was formed at the base of his length. each time you lifted yourself up, strings of milky white liquid kept another physical attachment with him. the build up was definitely worth it in its own way, but the release was divine. as always, though. stiles, even when he may not be completely all there in the moment, always knew how to send you hurdling toward what you swear is the best orgasm each time. he’s definitely fought you before for who had the better orgasm, ending in round twos all the way to round fives. how you two managed to make it that far was a damn mystery as well as a miracle.
but right now, you were only focused on your boy—your pretty boy, and the alluring noises seeping from those pink, kiss-bitten lips. “’love you more, pretty boy.” you halfheartedly chaffed.
his response was the reason for the returning gibes: a small muffled whine of some muddled words. and stiles never failed to live up to any nicknames or unserious expectations you tauntingly gave him.
#heavily unedited#stiles stilinski#stiles’!world#teen wolf#dylan obrien#stiles stilinski teenwolf#stiles smut#stiles stilinski smut#stiles stilinski x reader#stiles stilinski x you#stiles x reader#teen wolf stiles#stilesstilinskismut
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arguing with slytherin boys / pt.2
ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo
warnings: curse words, mentions of abuse, addictions
Theodore Nott
You wanted to help Theo, really. His smoking wouldn't have angered you if he wasn't going through two packs in a day. It was genuinely hard to express your concerns without sounding like a parent or authority figure. But as you attempted to have yet another “serious conversation” with him, you initially thought it was heading toward success. Turns out you just misunderstood his mocking tone as softness and surrender.
“Ah, so you care about me? Answer me, amore, are you my mother? Then tell me, why do my habits piss you off that much?” he advanced towards you, slowly cornering you until your back met the cold wall. You closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to pretend it's a nightmare, hoped for it to end sooner and start again. But it was real, and Theo barely controlled himself “Am I not good enough for Ms. Perfect? My “addictions” shouldn’t worry you, can’t you understand?” His fist landed just an inch away from your face.
Tom Riddle
You decided to drop in and check on Tom since he hadn’t been talking to you for a few weeks now. He was busy working on some project. You made a cute lunch and even drew his portrait with watercolor. You couldn’t contain your excitement as you hurried to his room. What will be his reaction? Did he miss you too? Reality hit harder than you could’ve ever imagined. He eyed you and things in your hand with a little to no interest.
“Just how many times did I tell you not to disturb me? Not to meddle in my business? I don’t need it," he stated firmly. His words rang in your ears, and you didn’t listen much as he continued, “I was right, in the end relationships proved to be troublesome trivia. It was nice to know you. But now, leave.”
Mattheo Riddle
You’ve been avoiding him for the last few weeks after hearing rumors about his ties to dark organizations and massacre in the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Now, he was confronting you. Can’t really escape when he’s towering right above you in the middle of a dorm room.
“Are we even dating at this point? ‘Cuz i feel like I’m a fucking joke to you, not a boyfriend” Mattheo calmly stood in front of you, staring at you with eyes full of hatred “Little bird told me you’re afraid of me. Why, is it because my surname is Riddle? I thought you weren’t that dumb like others to judge me on my family relations which I don’t give a fuck about” he spat out the last words. His lips curled in disgust as he shoved a box full of your gifts and memories into your hands, leaving you dumbfounded in the solitude of your room.
Lorenzo Berkshire
The last few weeks have been tough for every seventh-year at Hogwarts. Tables were cluttered with heaps of homework and essays, and an unhealthy number of coffee mugs in common rooms weren’t surprising anymore. Amidst this academic crisis, your boyfriend was the most affected one. He had to maintain his top spot, not for himself but for his parents.
You were genuinely worried about him and tried to help him unwind a bit, but he consistently refused and distanced himself even more. When you suggested going to Hogsmeade, he suddenly snapped, growling in frustration
“Just fuck off. I have a lot to manage, and you're being a burden right now. Can’t you spend a minute without me?” He kept ruffling his hair and rubbing his temples in annoyance. “I need a break” He didn’t care to explain what break he needed and didn’t even look at you as he left the common room in a hurry.
a/n: yes, i like making people suffer and yes there’ll be part 2 with Draco, Blaise and Regulus
#harry potter#harry potter x reader#louis partridge#lorenzo berkshire imagine#enzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire x you#draco malfoy#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#mattheo riddle#mattheoxreader#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader#theodore nott x you#slytherin boys#argument#harry potter fanfiction
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What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!
In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe
(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!
SUMMARY
Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.
Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?
As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.
And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.
Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?
(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)
PREV - NEXT
Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.
There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.
While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.
You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.
Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.
You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.
…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.
They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.
Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.
Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.
The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.
You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.
You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.
…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.
He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.
“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven���s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.
Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?
You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.
“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”
You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.
“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.
Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.
It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.
“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.
You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.
“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.
You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”
Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.
“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.
“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.
You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.
If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.
He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.
“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”
He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.
“Can you take me to my room?”
He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.
“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.
His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.
“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.
A break. You want a break.
The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.
Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.
Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.
“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.
“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
You almost laugh.
“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.
You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.
Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.
‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.
While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.
This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.
Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.
Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?
Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.
You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.
“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.
“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.
“…What?”
“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.
“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-
Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.
You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.
And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.
…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.
Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.
Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.
You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.
Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.
The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.
You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?
You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.
The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.
This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.
Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.
There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.
This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.
The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.
Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.
Of all fucking… George.
You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.
Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.
He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.
You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.
‘You’: Why are you contacting me?
‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.
Stupidly, you reply:
‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’
You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.
No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.
You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.
You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.
You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.
You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.
‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?
Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.
You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.
“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”
There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.
Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.
And you can’t find your voice.
It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.
Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.
You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.
Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.
George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.
…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.
“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.
“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.
“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.
The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.
You included.
Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.
George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.
“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.
You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.
“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.
You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.
…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.
He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.
And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.
George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.
Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?
Well, of course, it started biting.
George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-
You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.
“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”
“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.
He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”
“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.
You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.
He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.
“I bought it. That’s mine.”
“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.
This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.
“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.
“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.
“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.
Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.
You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.
The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.
What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.
But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.
So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.
You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?
…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.
The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.
You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.
‘You’: I miss them.
‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.
You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.
You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.
And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.
What you settle on is simple.
‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx
Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.
‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.
MASTERLIST - NEXT
#Series:WWW#yandere batfam#batfam x reader#yandere dc#yandere batfamily#yandere x reader#dick grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#tim drake x reader#red robin x reader#damian wayne x reader#robin x reader
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ℕ𝕠𝕥 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕆𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤
(Alastor x Angel Dust’s Sister! Reader) pt. 1
It really has been a long time, huh?
( next )
“Listen guys, I got my dad involved and that helped a lot but…” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck while rolling her head to look at Vaggie, silently asking for help.
“What Charlie is trying to say is that if you guys have other strings you can pull, now is the time to pull them.” Vaggie wrapped her arm behind Charlie to show some support. It was desperately needed after Charlie still hasn’t completely recovered from Vaggie’s angel secret. Angel Dust crossed his arms, practically wrapping himself in them like a protective blanket. Husk took note and so did Alastor, both watching with two different reactions but the same understanding. Angel Dust had a string he didn’t want to pull. Alastor eyed him carefully, already knowing a few things that Angel Dust was trying to keep hidden. Husk watched confused and worried on what could have the normally loud and confident spider to do a complete 180.
“I’m sorry guys, but I don’t have anything.” Cherri shrugged, still not quite over the death of someone she genuinely started to have feelings for. Angel Dust squeezed her into a side hug.
“I, too, have pretty much pulled every string I could so far my dear.” Alastor slyly spoke, eyeing Angel Dust. He was begging Angel Dust to just call that one person. Any excuse to just see her, let alone work with her.
“I am the string that was pulled, I ain’t got nothing else.” Husk muttered, sending a sideway glare at Alastor. It only made him smile further with amusement. Charlie started to look stressed with each negative response. Lucifer was already in another room trying to see what he could do and Vaggie only had Charlie over these years. Everyone turned to Angel Dust again, all having the understanding he was the last one that could maybe have a secret weapon to help them prepare for the black lash of Adam’s murder.
“I might have something, but only if we really don’t have anything else.” He was practically begging for this to only be used if there really was nothing else left. Lucifer came out with bad news written on his face. Alastor smiled with pure excitement.
“I’m sorry Charlie, there’s only so much I can do to keep us clean after killing Adam. We are going to need someone else really powerful on this. I don’t think the heavens are going to go easy on us.” He stood on the other side of Charlie, rubbing her back. Charlie looked back at Angel Dust with pleading eyes.
“Oh fuck, fine. Okay. Just-“ He sighed, rubbing his one set of hands on his face as the other set started pulling out his phone.
“I’ll be right back.” Cherri looked worried as Angel Dust left the room, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation at all. Alastor watched with light dancing in his eyes. He can finally work his magic with another powerful demon. Maybe he could even trap her under a contract? It would take a game of mind chess to try and corner someone like her though, but he doesn’t mind entertainment like that.
“He’s got something and he doesn’t?” Lucifer whispered, not so well, to Charlie about Alastor. Alastor snarled, choosing not to respond. Only because he was trying to overhear whatever Angel Dust was saying in the other room.
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“Hey, listen. I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t have any other option.” Angel Dust whispered into the phone. I looked down at it, on speakerphone since I was currently looking over papers in my office.
“Hey, Anthony. What’s going on? You can always call me first. Family first with me, okay? I’m not like mom or dad.” Even though I did take over Dad’s spot as the leader of his mob gang in my life and death. I flipped my papers over and shoved them into the file, quietly filing them away.
“I know, I just-“ he took a deep breath before continuing, breaking my heart. Ever since I took over, all my little brother could see me as, was just a mini dad. The one who pretty much abused us, molded us to be monsters. Anthony had a hard time with it, resulting in a bad path and death. Molly was caught in the crossfire which led to my depression and ruthless behavior, pushing me to be in dad’s spot after he died. I still haven’t found him or mom down here, same with Molly but she had to be in Heaven. I refused any other answer. I also refuse to let Anthony slip through my fingers again.
“It’s okay. You still staying at that hotel? I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hung up the phone, slamming everything into the filing cabinet. I kicked my door open, crashing close after I moved through it.
“Alright, Anthony needs our help, let’s go!” I pulled my sunglasses on and grabbed my baseball bat off my personal guard. All the mob gang started to shuffle around, getting ready to move out.
We all resided in a massive warehouse not too far from the hotel. I made sure I was stationed in whatever warehouse was closest to Anthony, never keeping more than a fifteen minute distance between us. I will never risk being that close to saving him again. I even started talking to the Radio Demon at overlord meetings to make sure Anthony was okay. Alastor never seemed to mind, maybe he even enjoyed our conversations which was uncharacteristically of him.
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“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for doing whatever you did. I greatly appreciate it along with everyone else.” Charlie held his shoulder, Angel Dust looking like he was a nervous wreck. He hasn’t talked to his sister more than he had to. She doesn’t even know about the horrible treatment Valentino puts him through. Guilt gnawed at him for having Cherri and Charlie see more about his life than his own sister. The sister who always took the blame and the worst beatings for him, the same sister who had a huge meltdown that broke her after he died and Molly. He knew she was different since then but he could only still see his dad or his mom when he saw her. Besides, he didn’t want her wrapped up in the same mess he is in with Valentino. There was nothing she could do.
“Yeah, just please don’t freak out when you realize who I called.” Angel Dust walked back with Charlie, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Cherri knew who he called the second he came back.
“You called her? Holy shit!” Cherri was shocked beyond belief as she rushed Angel Dust.
“Called who?” Vaggie questioned, leaning towards Charlie with panicked eyes. Alastor was watching silently with piqued interest for the reactions his hotel coworkers would have. Lucifer looked confused between Cherri and Angel Dust.
“Was it someone we should be worried about?” Lucifer asked cautiously, sharing a look with Vaggie. That’s when it hit Lucifer in the face. The only overlord they haven’t tried to contact for help was,
“La Morte.” Cherri finished, unsure if Angel Dust really wanted to share the connection part.
“How do you know her?” Vaggie snapped at him. Which irritated Angel Dust completely, losing every defensive thought he was having.
“She’s my sister.” He snarled back. That’s when the door echoed a loud knock. Husk snapped up and watched the door carefully. He remembers her during her first couple decades down here. She mercilessly killed thousands, wild and insane. Sometimes it seemed like there was a pattern and others it seemed like she just lost her sanity and killed anything near her. That was till she found her mob members from her days alive, recruited them all again, and quickly became an overlord. She was a brand new overlord when he lost his status. So, he never really met her but he knew she was a force to recon with. High tension was in the air as Alastor excitedly opened the door.
“Hello dear! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! My name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you sweetheart, quite a pleasure!” Angel watched carefully at how Alastor kissed the top of her hand. She watched him with something dangerous behind her eyes, she watched him like dad watched his members.
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I watched as Alastor did his usual greeting towards me. Odd he was acting like we have never met before though. Just as I looked up from Alastor, I scanned the room for my brother while responding to his greeting.
”Alastor, we both have met before but it's always great to see you. Please refer to me here as (Y/n).” My eyes spot Anthony after taking in his friends I have seen or met before.
Husk was an overlord right before I practically slid into his seat. He lost his power to Alastor all those years ago. He used to be an arrogant asshole but it seems he was humbled greatly after all that.
Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell himself was here. He was standing next to his daughter Charlie with a sly smile on his face. I never quite understood why a man like him was down here considering he was always so much nicer than any other demon I have met down here. It was also quite a shame Charlie was grounded down here when she was basically an angel herself. Both of them were extremely kind and sweet. I couldn’t help but smile softly at them both.
There was an ex angel next to Charlie. She spared one of my older members who only really went to hell for never saying anything when I mercilessly killed my brother’s drug dealer. I nodded my head at her.
Cherri and Anthony were standing next to one of Alastor’s souls, Niffty. Cherri would call me off of Anthony’s phone when he was going through it really bad. I always appreciated her filling me in whenever something was going on in my brother’s life. I owe her a lot. Anthony looked nervous to see me though, avoiding eye contact with me at first.
”Anthony-“ I started as Alastor gently released his hold on my hand. Anthony held up a hand, trying to stop me from talking any further.
”It’s Angel Dust here.” I stopped with a furrow in my brows. Why would he correct me like that? Why would he want to go by a drug name, let alone the one that ended up killing him? Was he embarrassed by me?
“What?” Maybe I just heard him wrong, right?
”Sis, it's Angel Dust here. Anthony is dead.” Everyone was watching this argument unfold carefully. I dropped my hands that were reaching out for a hug from him. It broke my heart to hear him mention his death. I don’t even know if he knows how I held his body till his heart completely stopped. It was only for a couple seconds, but it was the most heartbreaking years of my life after he died. My eyes looked at the floor as I chewed on my lip, blinking away the tears that threatened to show. Nodding my head, I sniffed once. All emotions wiped off my face, replaced with the business face our dad taught me. I locked eyes with him.
”Angel Dust,” it rolled off my tongue like the poison it was, “what did you need help with?”
*
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(As always, the characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! It really has been a little while since I wrote something lol. I promise I have been working on pieces here and there of everything. I have just been going through a lot of personal things and life changing choices :)! But let me know how you like this. This is the version of my recent series idea but more aimed towards the aspect of whatever you guys have in mind while the other version I have is more detailed on how the reader is. Anyway! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3 :)!)
#fanfic#fanfiction#hazbin hotel#x reader#xreader#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#radio demon#hazbin hotel alastor#angel dust
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I’ve never really seen anyone talking about this, but I noticed that one of the main reasons why I am team green is because team green feels like an actual team that is in this whole thing together.
Team Green feels connected, united, like a family.
Team Black on the other hand is… meh.
And let me explain why:
Rhaenyra being delusional and thinking that Daemon is actually in love with her when he literally just groomed her since she was a child because he has always been after her title and now wants to be her king consort. They have one of the most toxic, creepy and problematic relationships in the entire fucking show.
Then there is the very awkward and uncomfortable moment of Rhaenyra and Daemon having sex on Laena’s funeral, while Rhaenys, Corlys, Baela, Rhaena and Laenor are mourning the loss of their daughter, mother and sister. How fucking disrespectful is this. And then the fact that they have Laenor “killed” just so they can get married and have their own perfectly blonde targaryen babies.
And Rhaenyra lying about Jace, Luke and Joff to everyone in her very own “team”, trying to gaslight not only Corlys, and Rhaenys but also her own sons into thinking they are trueborn, when even Jace himself. as a child, starts asking questions.
Then there are obviously Rhaenys and Corlys, who for some fucking reason neglected their trueborn granddaughters in favor of some dark haired white bastards their daughter-in-law is trying to pass off as their son’s children. Rhaenys is trying sooo hard to please her misogynistic husband because he so desperately wants his name to go down in history. Then the disrespectful betrothal of Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra is literally robbing these poor girls of their rightful claim to Driftmark and usurping them. And now, with Luke being dead, Rhaena’s claim dies with him.
Baela and Rhaena losing their mother, and now their father suddenly remarries, and has two blonde boys. Rhaenys losing BOTH her children and then seeing her son-in-law and daughter-in-law getting married soon after that.
Everyone in team black is after their own ambitions. They lie to each other, they don’t trust each other, they suspect each other in different things, they cheat on each other (with each other) and lie about it, they give each other forced ultimatums, and yada yada. All their scenes feel forced, tense, awkward and uncomfortable. They look so miserable with each other.
Team Green in this sense is the exact opposite.
Although their dynamic is far from perfect, obviously, you cannot deny that they care about each other very very deeply.
Alicent loves all of her children, and even while acknowledging their flaws, she still loves them.
Aemond might’ve been a little envious of Aegon, but he would never turn his back on him. He would never betray his brother, be would never try to take his crown from him.
Aegon was far from being a perfect man and king, but, as we know, it was his love for his family, and the fear of them getting hurt that made him a more responsible person and a more protective father, husband and brother. Sure, he is a cheater, but at least he’s honest about it and doesn’t lie to his wife. He is not a hypocrite.
Criston is working for Alicent not for ambition or for self-gain, but because he genuinely loves her, whether it’s romantic or platonic, doesn’t matter.
Helaena would never betray her family, her brothers, her mother. They are all she has. She would never switch sides even if given an opportunity.
And even Otto, arguably one of the main villains of the whole show, still loves his family. Sure, he is ambitious, but he would never become Corlys level of ambitious.
Team Green feels like they are fighting against the enemy all together, they have the same goals, they feel united and you can feel their devotion to each other. Especially after blood and cheese, when they become closer than ever. They’re in this together and only if they stick to each other, they can make it. It feels genuine and honest. They don’t hide anything from each other, they always have their loved ones’ best interests at heart, they would never in a million years betray each other. Yes, they are all doomed from the start, but their dedication and love to each other is truly something else.
#house of the dragon#hotd#asoiaf#pro team green#team green#anti team black#anti team black stans#anti rhaenyra targaryen#anti rhaenyra#anti daemyra#anti daemon x rhaenyra#anti daemon targaryen#anti rhaenys targaryen#anti corlys velaryon#pro alicent hightower#pro aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#team alicent#aemond targaryen#helaena targaryen
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GUTTER BALL | changbin
first date series. one night stand to lovers.
pairing: changbin x fem!reader
word count: 5.2k
genre: non idol au, fluff
warnings: implied sexual content, swearing, mentions of drinking
summary: a one night stand with changbin ends in pancakes and the promise of a date. the rest is history.
chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin
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a/n: finally! the changbin chapter! i just want to take a second to say THANK YOU for all the support you guys have given this series so far. reading everyone's comments is genuinely the highlight of my day and i'm so happy you're all enjoying it. please remember that both my taglist and my requests are open, so don't be shy. once again, any and all feedback is appreciated. you guys are awesome, happy reading <3
The first thing you notice when you wake up is that this is not your room.
Blackout curtains, a lamp on the bedside table painting the walls in a warm glow, navy blue sheets that are pulled over your bare chest and—oh.
Oh.
“Fuck,” you mutter, throwing your arm over your eyes, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Everything comes flooding back in an instant: the bar, dark curly hair, one too many drinks, a voice low in your ear, stumbling through his apartment door, the most ripped arms you’ve ever seen, and that tongue—
The sound of a door unlocking shakes you from your thoughts, followed by shoes being kicked off as you scramble to sit up and hug the sheet tighter around your body.
What was his name—Changbin? Changbin. That sounds right. At least from the memories you have where it was coming out in strangled moans from your throat. Which is dry, by the way, undoubtedly from the amount of alcohol and the…strain it was put through.
You don’t really have time to unpack that particular part of last night’s events when there’s a knock at the door—funny, because this is his room.
Flattening your back against the headboard, you clear your throat as best you can, “Come in.”
When it opens, Changbin’s head pops through, tufts of his hair sticking out from under a baseball cap. “Hey,” he says softly before stepping all the way in. He takes one look at you, your hands holding the bedsheet in a death grip, and wordlessly walks over to his dresser.
“I bought food,” he says with his back turned, pulling out a sweatshirt. He pulls out a few sweatpants too, shuffles through them until he finds some with a drawstring, and then turns back around to face you with the clothes held in his hand.
He looks…apologetic? Nervous? Really, really cute? That’s not a question, actually. He is cute.
You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’re seeing him in better lighting for the first time, or maybe because you’re sober, or maybe because the only other image you have of him is when he’s hovering over your body and making you see stars, but you can’t help the little fluttering feeling that starts in your chest when he gives you a small smile.
“Your dress is kind of…I, uh…it’s ripped.”
Your eyebrows shoot up in shock at the same time you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh,” is all you can say as you desperately try to remember that part of the night. Hands are all you see, big and strong, and you silently let your gaze fall to them as he moves forward to place the clothes at the foot of the bed.
“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, “You can have these. They should fit you, and I don’t mind losing them. Consider it my reimbursement for ruining your dress.”
You lean forward slowly, still holding the blanket to your chest, and Changbin has to stop himself from staring at the exposed skin of your shoulder when your hair falls forward in the process. “These are—” your eyes go wide, “Balenciaga?!”
He blinks like you didn’t just name drop a brand that sells singular articles of clothing for double your paycheck. “Yeah?”
“I can’t take this.”
“Why not?”
“This costs more than me,” you say incredulously.
He moves to argue, but then a slow grin starts to spread across his face. He tones it down, minimizes it to a single upturn of the left side of his mouth. “I mean, you don’t have to wear anything. I don’t mind either way.” Changbin smirks, and you narrow your eyes.
“However,” he continues, “I would really, really like to see you in my clothes.”
🎳
“He gave you a what hoodie?” Felix’s voice is distant on the other end of the line. The clicking of his keyboard stops, there’s a rustle, and then suddenly his mouth is a lot closer to the speaker than it’d previously been.
Changbin’s en suite is huge, just like his bedroom. Once he slipped out to give you privacy, claiming he was going to set up the food, you’d allowed yourself to fully take in your surroundings. A california king sized bed, a walk in closet, an attached bathroom with a balcony.
You sigh, leaning back against the marble sink. Changbin’s sweats sit low on your hips, his hoodie all but swallowing your figure into the material.
“That’s not the point, Felix. Were you even listening to me? An entire five minute monologue about how I’m in his house and all you care about is the Balenciaga?”
“Does he have any, like, really hot friends?”
“Felix.”
“Wait. Is he really hot?”
“Felix!” you bring a hand to your forehead, using your thumb and middle finger to rub at the spots just above your eyebrows. “You’re not helping here.”
“Okay,” Felix says, his voice low, “It’s just that I’m having an issue seeing what the problem is.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to fight the oncoming headache as Felix rambles on.
“This guy brought you back to his place, rocked your world, and then what? Cuddled you? Bought you breakfast? Gave you his clothes that are worth more than my car and is now waiting for you to come out of his bathroom and enjoy a nice meal? And that’s bad because…?”
“You know what? I’m hanging up.”
“The hell you are! I left my fucking fortnite match for this! You’d better go out there and—” You slam your phone down on the bathroom counter, the sound echoing. If Felix wasn’t going to validate your very unnecessary nerves, then so be it.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, unfamiliar with the person looking back. It’s a little jarring, the sight of you in someone else’s clothes. A man’s clothes, no less.
It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything close to this sort of…intimacy. Hookups are normal for you, sure. But the mornings after are usually never more than a hurried goodbye as you gather your things and haul ass out the door. Most of the time you don’t even stay, sobered up enough after your post-coital state to slip out into the night and call an uber.
Your memory had come back in full as you were slipping Changbin’s clothes on once he left the room. The sex was great—amazing even. But afterwards, when he turned over and slipped an arm around your waist and hooked his chin on your shoulder was what really scared you.
Okay, maybe scared is an exaggeration. You aren’t scared, it’s just been a while. So what if you don’t crave male validation? Sex is the fun part anyways. Dating doesn’t necessarily go well for you, and feelings are definitely off the table when it comes to hookups. Because that’s all it is: a hookup. Changbin is no different.
You give yourself a total of thirty more seconds before braving a step out into the hallway, sheepishly peeking around the corner.
The apartment is unsurprisingly huge as well: a high ceiling, intricate marble flooring, a chandelier hung in the center of the living room that reflects the sunlight coming in from the floor-to-wall windows on the opposite side.
“Woah,” you say to no one in particular, walking into the dining room area, “This place is intense.”
Changbin looks up from his phone. His hat is off now, a mop of curls sit messily on his head, thick-rimmed glasses are situated at the tip of his nose, his arms—straining against the fabric of his black t-shirt—rest heavily on the table. You watch as he lets his eyes travel the length of you, painfully slow, something unreadable behind them.
“Food’s ready,” is all he says with a smile.
You sit down across from him, eyes wide. It’s like he bought out the entirety of an IHOP while you were asleep. There’s pancakes and waffles, hash browns and toast, an assortment of fruit, two different omelets, two cups of coffee, and at least five different types of syrup options.
“Are we…” you trail off, meeting his expectant gaze, “…expecting other people?”
Changbin nervously scratches his chin. “No, uh, I just—I didn’t know what you liked. And you were sleeping, so…yeah. I tried to cover all the bases.”
When you don’t respond, your eyes transfixed on him, he clears his throat. “Please eat,” he says, extending a hand to gesture at the food, “Let me know if there’s anything else you want.”
“Thank you,” you say, grabbing a fork. Changbin waits until he’s certain you don’t immediately hate it and then starts to eat, too.
It’s quiet, comfortable, sounds of cutlery clinking against plates are the only thing filling the silence as the two of you try to soothe your hangovers with full stomachs. You steal glances at him throughout, watch the way his lips pout when he chews, and then shyly look back down at your plate when he catches you staring. It’s kind of sweet, the idea that he did all this despite only having met you twelve hours ago.
It should be more awkward, too. You’re going to have to talk at some point. There’s an elephant in the room that’s shaped a lot like post-nut clarity mixed with morning-after regret and neither of you are making a move to address it.
“So um, about last night…” Changbin starts a few minutes later. He looks nervous, like he doesn’t know how to vocalize what he plans on saying next.
You nod, putting your fork down. This was to be expected. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m done eating, don’t worry.” Changbin’s head snaps in your direction. “It was really nice of you to get food and stuff, so thank you. I can put my dress back on too so that way I don’t have to take—”
“What?” Changbin furrows his eyebrows, “No. Wait. I’m not kicking you out, Jesus.”
You blink. “You’re not?”
“Of course not.” He stills. “Is that how these things usually go for you?”
Well that isn’t exactly a question you planned on answering. What are you supposed to say? Yeah haha I actually just kind of leave before they have a chance to come back from the bathroom?
“I mean, is that not how it goes for you?”
The blush that spreads across Changbin’s cheeks is hard to ignore. “I don’t—uh…I don’t do this.”
“You don’t buy girls breakfast after you sleep with them?”
“No I don’t—I don’t bring girls home.” He admits.
Oh.
“So I’m…?” The first, you want to ask.
“Yeah.”
Oh.
You’ve never been in this situation before. Apparently that’s Changbin’s specialty: helping you experience things that you normally wouldn’t.
“Listen,” he starts again, licking his lips. His leg is bouncing nervously, visible through the glass table. “I didn’t intend to sleep with you last night. Not because I didn’t want to! Fuck, I—I wanted to. And it was…God, it was amazing. But I feel kind of bad, because everything is out of order and I don’t want it to seem like I’m only trying to ask you now just because I want to get in your pants again or something but like—”
“Changbin,” you cut him off, “Breathe. You don’t—whatever it is you want to say, you can say it.”
He visibly relaxes as soon as his name comes out of your mouth.
“Can I take you on a date?”
There’s a long silence that follows, one that makes you question whether or not he actually said what you think he did. It feels a little surreal, not just the situation but Changbin himself. You went into this blind, completely void of any expectations, but somehow came out of it with—
“A…date?” you ask hesitantly.
“A date.” He repeats, more confident this time. “A real one. Not just a hookup. I mean, I thought you were beautiful—still do! That’s why I approached you at first. I wasn’t expecting to come back here but we were both drinking and then one thing lead to another and your face was so close and I—”
“Okay.” You say, stabbing at a piece of pancake with your fork.
“Okay?” Changbin asks, blinking at you like he didn’t hear correctly.
“I mean,” you swallow your food, “Typically I’d say you’re just trying to sleep with me, because what guy does all of this for a girl he knows literally nothing about?” Changbin nods in understanding. “But we’re kind of past that, aren’t we? So clearly you don’t have any other motives.”
He shakes his head vehemently. “No. Nope. Definitely don’t.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, to which he visibly pales. “Wait, not like that. I just mean that I’m motivated by the fact that you’re beautiful and I want to get to know you not…anything else.”
When you laugh it’s soft, no more than a few heavy exhales out of your nose. Changbin wishes he could hear it more, could get you to open up to him. “I’m not too sure there’s much you’d want to know.” You admit.
“Well that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?”
His tone is different now, much more confident. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s more at ease with the conversation, or maybe it’s because he wants to prove you wrong. Either way, it makes anticipation stir deep in your gut. Changbin is different, a good different.
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”
“So it’s a date?” He picks up a piece of watermelon with his fork, holds it out to you in some sort of a toast.
“Depends,” you poke another piece of your pancakes and let it hover in front of your face, “Are you gonna buy more of these?”
“I could make that happen.” He smiles, and for the first time you let yourself get lost in it.
“Then yeah,” you push your hand forward, clinking the sides of your forks together, “It’s a date.”
🎳
changbin [8:30am]
for you 🥞
you [8:31am]
are you going to do this every day?
changbin [8:31am]
absolutely
what kind of a man would that make me if i didn’t deliver your pancakes in the morning?
you [8:34am]
a normal one
changbin [8:34am]
sounds boring
do you want syrup with those?
🎳
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Felix says, leaning against the doorframe. He watches as you adjust your hair in the mirror, a wary look on his face from where you can see his reflection over your shoulder.
It’s been two weeks since you and Changbin hooked up. You’ve texted nonstop since then, most of it just casual conversation. It’s kind of nice; you get to hear about his day, what songs he’s currently listening to, and find out that he’s one hundred percent committed to the pancake bit. You let him know more about yourself too: your job, your annoying coworkers, which one of your comfort shows you’re rewatching for the fourth time. Changbin makes it a point to text you every morning and every night. You open your eyes to a pancake delivery and then close them after answering the question of: What type of pancakes do you want tomorrow?
Today, it was blueberry. Because today is the day you’re finally going on your date—and because Changbin’s sheets (that you haven’t stopped thinking about for some reason) are blue.
“What’s there to not believe, Lix?” you ask, turning to face him.
“I’m just worried.” He says, walking forward to place both hands on your shoulders. His face is serious, eyebrows pulled together slightly in that concerned look you know too well. Felix has seen firsthand what your last relationship did to you, spent nights with you tucked under his arm as you cried it out and he shoveled ice cream into your mouth. So yeah, he has the room to be worried.
“What if you mess up and I lose my chance to be his friend so he can give me a Balenciaga hoodie?”
Record scratch. Freeze frame. Whatever the hell happens in the tv shows. You shove his arms away with a scoff, rolling your eyes when he stumbles to the side as he laughs.
“You are so annoying.”
“And you better not ruin my chances of getting with one of his producer friends!” Felix calls out as you walk towards the living room. “I saw a cute one on his instagram. Don’t know his name—there was no tag, but oh my God, I love his nose.”
“You went through his socials?” you ask in disbelief, staring at him as he bends down to rummage through the fridge.
“Uh, yeah? Had to make sure he wasn’t some sort of weirdo that could possibly turn out to be a serial killer. Please, I’m not that bad of a best friend.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” You smile, laughing at the pout he shoots your way.
Changbin’s got his hands in his pockets when you swing the door open. His hair is even fluffier than you remember, a white t-shirt hugging his chest perfectly beneath his jacket and—the glasses. The damn glasses. Your stomach starts churning at the sight, the smallest of cracks in your reserve starting to form.
“You’re early,” you say, giving him a questioning look.
Changbin shrugs. “I was excited.”
“Sweet talking to me isn't gonna work, you know?”
“I don’t have a reason to sweet talk, I’m just being honest.” Changbin’s teeth are white when he flashes them, bright and sincere. He makes talking so easy, like he’s practiced it a thousand times. You like that.
“Well,” you clear your throat, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Changbin grins, grabbing your hand and leading you down towards his car.
🎳
Changbin, as you come to find out, is full of surprises.
First, he’s ridiculously good at driving. One hand on the wheel, the other mindlessly playing with yours where his hand rests on top of your thigh. The way he maneuvers the car is, well, it’s hot. It’s also really hard to focus your attention anywhere but his hands, especially when you know what they can do.
Second, he’s really, really silly. Most of the usual small talk made on a first date was done over text since it took so long to find a day that both of you were free, but that just made it so falling into step beside one another was that much easier.
Changbin isn’t afraid to sing along with whatever song is on the radio. In fact, he’s actually really good at singing. Well, when he’s not forcing the dramatics and belting at the top of his lungs while he pretends to romantically serenade you in the passenger’s seat. You can’t help but giggle, swatting his hand away when he makes exaggerated gestures in your direction during certain high notes.
Third, he makes your heart flutter. And not just the usual Oh you’re cute kind. No. Changbin makes your heart feel like it’s going to melt into the floor, all of your senses hyper aware of every part of him, wanting and craving more even when he’s right next to you.
He makes you laugh at unexpected times, encourages you to keep speaking if you ramble on for too long about something completely random, and his smile—oh man. Maybe Felix was right to be worried. Not about you messing up, but about you being absolutely head over heels for this guy.
By the time Changbin pulls into an empty parking spot, the two of you have settled into a natural back and forth that has your head reeling with how much fun it is.
“A bowling alley?” you ask, turning to him. Changbin turns the car off, stares at you in expectation. “You spent, like, five minutes telling me that you were taking me to the one place you feel most at home and it’s a bowling alley?”
“Woah, hold on. Are you mocking me?” Changbin smiles again, and suddenly nothing else matters.
“No I’m just—I feel bad.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Bad? Why?”
“I’m gonna, like, kick your ass at this. You know that right?” You say, chuckling.
Changbin stares at you for a moment, and then he’s laughing. A high pitched, steady trill of laughter that sends you into your own fit of giggles just from the residual joy that’s oozing out of him.
Once he’s composed himself enough, he points a finger in your direction, “Oh you are so on.”
The alley is pretty empty, the only other bowlers being at a far lane at the end of the building. Changbin takes the liberty of paying and grabbing both of your shoes, and you silently follow behind him as he leads you to your assigned lane.
“Weight?” he asks, tying his laces.
You glance up from your own shoes, watching as he shucks off his jacket. His arms flex nicely under the material of his shirt, straining against the fabric as he ties a knot.
“Huh?” you ask, not entirely present.
Changbin stands, smirks slightly. “What ball weight do you use?”
“Oh, uh, an eight please.”
He nods and disappears off towards the racks of balls, leaving you alone to scold yourself.
“Christ. Get a grip.” You mumble, smacking your forehead lightly with the palm of your hand.
It’s been a while since you bowled. When you were younger, your dad used to take you every once in a while and marvel at how good you were. That was a long time ago, when you had the time to enjoy things rather than work nonstop to keep yourself afloat. It’s kind of bittersweet being back in an alley, different circumstances but still the same familiarity.
Changbin comes back with two balls in his hands and places them on the ball rack. He glances over to where you’re keying in the names, smiling softly when he notices that you put him down as BIN.
“Ready to have all of your hopes and dreams crushed?” you ask, knocking your shoulder with his.
Changbin fakes a stumble, rubs his arm like you full on punched him. “Oh God, I don’t think I can play now.”
“Nice try sweetheart,” you scoff, picking up your ball just as the screen signals for the game to start, “Watch and learn.”
You move up to the beginning of the lane, trying to ignore the way Changbin whistles playfully when you do. The ball fits perfectly in your hand, round and smooth. One deep breath, you pull your arm back, slowly walk forward, and bend at just the right moment to send it off with a thud as it hits the lane. You watch with your breath held, hope that you’re able to prove you’re not all talk, and smile proudly when the ball goes crashing through the center pin, knocking them all out.
Changbin’s jaw is on the floor when you turn around. “Your turn, hot shot.” You say sweetly, patting his shoulder as you plop down in the seat next to him.
He clears his throat. “Alright.” He grunts, stretching his arms for dramatic effect. He lets out a loud yell, one of those Hoo! noises that people make before they’re about to do something crazy.
As he lines up to go, he turns, kisses his hand and blows it in your direction. “This one’s for you!” He shouts, winking when you hide your face in your hands out of embarrassment.
You watch as he rolls it forward, leans his body to the left when it curves way too far to the right, and then your hand is flying to your mouth to stifle your laughter when the neon pink ball goes straight into the gutter.
“Ah!” He screams, throwing his hands up and behind his head. He whirls around, points an accusatory finger in your direction, “You did this!”
“Me? What’d I do?”
“You distracted me!”
“I did not!
“How am I supposed to focus when the most beautiful girl in the world is watching me?”
“I—” you scoff, fighting the blush on your cheeks as Changbin walks toward you with a shit-eating grin, “Shut up. Stop that.”
“Stop what?” He crouches in front of you, trying to catch your eyes when you avert his gaze.
“Stop sweet talking. That’s a violation of the game rules. Cheating. You’re trying to distract me.”
“Trying to distract you or trying to get you to fall head over heels for me?”
You blink, “You don’t have to try and do that.”
Changbin searches your eyes for a long while, like he’s trying to decipher whether or not you’re being sincere. It looks on his face is one of disbelief, like it’s hard for him to be convinced that you reciprocate any of what he feels.
“Now who’s sweet talking?” He laughs.
“I’m not sweet talking, I’m just being honest.”
“That’s my line!”
“Well,” you say, standing to take your turn, “I wasn’t gonna steal your bad bowling skills was I?”
The game continues on after that. Changbin somehow manages to score three more gutterballs until you decide to take pity on him.
“Here, like this,” you say, walking up behind him. Changbin freezes when you press yourself up against his back, your hand steady on his forearm as you adjust his positioning.
“This is a little—”
“What? Don’t like it?” You giggle.
He clears his throat, “Quite the opposite, actually.”
When he sends the ball straight into the middle of the pins, earning his first strike of the night, he can barely contain his excitement as he yells, picking you up and spinning you around while you laugh and throw your arms around his neck.
It feels like floating, being with Changbin. He’s goofy and sweet and he knows exactly how to push your buttons all while making you feel as though you’re the only girl in the world. His smile is as bright as the sun and the way his eyes lock on to yours at any given point in time have you wishing you could lose yourself in them forever.
🎳
In the end, you win. It’s not a surprise to either of you, but Changbin couldn’t be bothered to care less. It doesn’t matter to him, not when he feels like he’s won the lottery every time you smile in his direction. And if that wasn’t enough, when you silently slip your hand into his as the two of you walk back to the car, he swears that he’s the richest man alive.
The feeling is mutual for you, too. Changbin has a way of making you feel like nothing else exists, not when he’s grinning at you from ear to ear and making you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He’s unprecedented, a stroke of good luck, someone who came into your life when you least expected it.
Changbin, to you, is uncharted territory. He laughs loud and smiles unabashedly. If there’s a lull in conversation he’s not afraid to fill it with one of his many noises or silly dances. He says what he thinks and doesn’t care if it’s too cheesy or makes your cheeks turn just a shade darker with embarrassment.
Changbin is consistent; the first guy that hasn’t thrown you for a loop when it comes to figuring out who he is and what he likes. Changbin is someone you could see yourself falling in love with, one terrible pick up line at a time.
“So…” he says as soon as he walks you to your front door, “I had fun.”
You laugh, glancing down at where he has your pinkies linked on both hands. He’s so cute, everything about him. Changbin, Changbin, Changbin.
“Mmhm, it was really fun teaching you how to bowl.”
Changbin groans, leans his head against your front door. “I was under pressure.”
“That’s okay, I thought it was cute.”
“Hm. Does that mean I didn’t ruin my chances at a second date?”
“Depends,” you say, moving your hands up to clasp behind his neck. Changbin’s immediately fall to your waist, almost like second nature. Right, right, right. Everything feels right. “You could come inside and show me if it’s worth it or not.”
“Jesus,” he mumbles, “Don’t do that. You’re gonna drive me crazy.”
Changbin’s words are slow, each one more breathless than the last. It’s almost intoxicating.
“Maybe I want that.”
“Good,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his nose against yours in silent question, “Because I’ve been crazy about you since the moment I first saw you.”
When his lips finally connect with yours, you’re thankful for the grip he has on your waist that prevents you from stumbling. Sweet like the syrup he bought for you that first morning, kissing Changbin is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not hurried or messy; it’s not done with the intent of something more to be given. It’s slow, purposeful, Changbin takes his time like he’s worried if he doesn’t you might break right beneath his fingertips.
He hums softly when you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulls you closer until you’re flush against him. Chest to chest, heart to heart—Changbin holds you like he never wants to let go.
When you finally pull away, his eyes are glossy, shining with adoration. You could get used to that.
“So you don’t want to come inside?” You ask again, smiling when he bites his lip.
“Not tonight babe, it’s only the first date. I don’t put out like that.”
You scoff. “Yeah? Well you definitely put something somewhere when I was—”
Changbin cuts you off with a palm over your mouth. “What kind of pancakes do you want tomorrow?” He laughs.
“Mmrrnnf.” You say, muffled his hand. When he removes it, you push your lip out into a pout. “I don’t want pancakes—just want you.”
Changbin closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then lets his forehead fall against yours. “You’re making it really, really hard to hold myself back right now.”
You giggle, jutting your lips forward to give him a quick kiss. “Good, it’s working.”
He sighs. “Second date, and then maybe we can talk about…other things. But right now, I just want you to enjoy this. Let yourself settle with the fact that I really, really like you. This wasn’t just a one night stand for me, nor did I ever want it to be.” He plants a kiss on your nose, “I’m kind of, like, crazy about you.”
“Me too,” you say quietly, “About all of it. I want to keep seeing you, Bin. I want to see where this goes.”
Changbin beams. “Good.” He leans down to kiss you one last time, nothing more than a press of his lips to yours, but it’s more full of emotion than the last.
When he pulls away and starts walking backwards to head back down to his car, he feels like he’s on top of the world.
“I’ll text you in the morning?”
You nod. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Good,” he says with a wink, “The pancakes are on me.”
There’s a tug in your chest at his words. It’s crazy how something so small, something so simple can make you feel so strongly for someone. But you guess that Changbin is just like that.
And when you open the door, Felix’s entire body falling over the threshold from where he was leaning against it, you can’t even be bothered to get mad.
[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie @drhsthl @shays-library @giuliadesu @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @snowyquokka @caitxx1 @skzstarnet]
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#changbin x reader#skzstarnet#changbin fluff#changbin smut#changbin angst#changbin scenarios#changbin imagines#changbin au#changbin one shot#changbin fanfic#changbin fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#skz x reader#first date series#first date series : gutter ball
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Bunch of Deviants II
Summary: Second part of me assigning a k!nk to each of the 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, Graves, König and Valeria that I could imagine them having. You can find part one here. Enjoy!
Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Phillip Graves, Alejandro Vargas, Rudy Parras, Valeria Garza, all x reader
Rating: NSFW (minors DNI)
Warnings: Choking, Primal Kink, Free Use, Degradation
Word Count: 1.3k-ish
Ghost - Primal
He loves the thrill of hunting you down. Even though you of course know that it's just him, the panic you feel when he catches you is genuine. The way he towers over you, eyes cold except for the sense of victory in them that he caught you and that you are now his to deal with whatever he wants to.
Usually he just takes you right where he catches you, ripping your clothes from your body and fucking you, pinning you down and just holding you in whichever position he needs you in.
He will be so humiliating and degrading, oh, you should run faster next time, are you actually enjoying this? you really are a needy little slut.
After he has come and you are all fucked out he will hold you, just pressing you to his chest until your heartbeat returns to a normal pace.
Soap - Receiving Nudes at Work
He loves when you rile him up through the entire day, sending him pictures, videos or voice messages, telling him how badly you want him, how you need him, how you've been touching yourself all day but it just doesn't compare to when he does it.
He won't be able to think straight until he's finally back home with you and gets to actually fuck you, working off the frustration you put him through.
Usually he just has to get himself off as quickly as possible, fucking you desperately, but he isn't done just because he came. Usually he'll take his time afterwards to eat you out for as long as you can take.
He also makes sure to save all of the messages so he can go through them later, especially on long missions with bad internet reception where it is all he can use to get himself off.
Price - Watching you Touch yourself
He loves watching you touch yourself for him. It started once when he walked in on you and instead of joining in, he just sat down on the foot of the bed, telling you to keep going even though your first reaction was to cover yourself with your blanket.
He loves the way he can read your body, can tell when you are getting closer, those little whines when you push yourself right up to the edge. He knows you too well.
He loves watching you come for him while he strokes himself. You look so beautiful when you do and he takes in every aspect of you, the way your eyelids flutter shut, your legs shaking and your mouth falling open, his name spilling over your lips.
His favorite part is when he finally gets to fuck you for round two, you are so wet after you've come once already and you are so whiny and sensitive.
Gaz - Free Use
Free use goes both ways for you. Especially if you have longer periods of vacation times where you can stay home you will fuck wherever and whenever. Whether it is you walking in while he plays video games and sucking him off while he tries to not let the people on voice chat know or him pushing up your dress while you are working in the kitchen to fuck you from behind, you love being available for each other.
For convenience you both usually don't wear much clothes at home anyways and you also sleep naked.
Of course you both know that you can deny favors to one another if you are not feeling up to it, but neither of you really ever do. Each other's pleasure is enough motivation.
König - Thigh Riding
Having you ride his thigh is one of his favorite things, he loves the way it gives him close to no physical stimulation so he can focus completely on you without any distractions.
He loves the desperation in your eyes when you drag yourself across him, grinding your hips against his leg because it's the only thing he'll let you have if he's feeling strict.
Sometimes, when you are already overstimulated he will grab you by the hips and make you grind down even harder and faster, feasting on your whimpers.
It's one of his favorite ways to make you come, the way your movements stutter and he has to grab you to hold you upright, whispering sweet praise into your ears.
Graves - Pegging
It took him so, so long to admit to you that he wanted you to peg him. He was terrified that you would reject him or even be weirded out by his request. He didn't want to make you feel any different about him.
Of course you didn't, and you both loved it from the first time you tried it out. Everything about his reaction to being fucked refuses to leave your mind, the way his body just seemed to melt into the sheets, legs refusing to support him, hands tangled in the sheets for some form of support.
You have never heard him moan the way he does every time you peg him, his mind just immediately turns into putty and all of his dirty thoughts just spill out, begging for you to go harder.
Will usually be able to come hands free if you take your time with him.
Alejandro - Degradation
He loves you more than anything in the world and he respects and adores you, but there is just something about treating you like a dirty whore that gets him going like nothing else.
He loves making you give him sloppy blowjobs and making you drool all over him, he loves bending you over whichever surface is closest to you and just taking you then and there.
He loves treating you like you are property, like you're a toy he gets to use to get himself off, pushing you into whichever position he wants you in.
He doesn't let go until you have come at least a few times, his favorite is when you come around his cock, the way you clench around him and that sweet, overwhelmed look in your eyes drives him insane.
He will always make sure afterwards that you are okay and that you know that none of the ways he treated you reflect how he actually feels about you and that you know how much he loves and appreciates you.
Rudy - Choking
The majority of the time there is no clear dom-sub relationship between the two of you, however, he adores you choking him.
His favorite position is when you are riding him and then wrap your hands around his throat, just tight enough to make him a little dizzy.
He'll beg for you to kiss him, take away even more of his ability to breathe.
He comes so hard being choked, almost passing out and whimpering for you to go harder on him.
Valeria - Strap-Ons
It doesn't matter what your gender is, if you let her, she'll use her strap on you.
She almost sees it as an extension of herself, she adores seeing you on your knees and making you suck the strap, praising and degrading you at the same time as she fucks your throat as deeply as you can take it, "such a pretty slut, so needy for my cock, aren't you?"
She fucks you like she wants you to never be able to walk again, rough and deep, long deep strokes. If the position allows it she'll also use her hands on you, circling your most sensitive spots with her thumb and taking pleasure in your desperate, whiny moans.
#praying this looks acceptable bc i edited it on mobile#i specifically did the layout of my posts on my pc before going on vacation and then accidently fucked it up lmfao#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#141 x reader#gaz x reader#könig x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#rudy parras x reader#cod fanfiction#valeria garza x reader#cod headcanons#konig x reader#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#ari writes#cod imagine
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PRESENTING . . . HOUSE OF BALLOONS!
⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ SITUATIONSHIP GETO SUGURU X F!READER
⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW : extreme toxicity; possessiveness; stalking; relationship sabotage; obsession; suguru is CRAZY, bro is an actual mastermind; reader cheats on her bf w/ suguru; consensual recording; manipulation; reader is a bit dumb; pet names used are baby, dollface, minx, lovely, angel; smut; dry humping, throat fucking, throat bulging, fingering, ruined orgasms, breeding kink, baby trapping, a mix of degradation and praise, breath play, slight bondage, edging & overstimulation, dumbification, sado-madochism, pain play, branding (suguru puts a cigarette out on reader three times as a way of claiming), cervix fucking, sir kink, HINTS of somnophilia (brief description of suguru fucking reader while she’s asleep); dick drunk reader; suguru has a dick piercing; pregnancy.
⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc : 8.3k
⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ guys this is actually so nasty and feral, im so so so sorry. this is based off that jjk men loyalty post and suguru was placed in the middle because he would situationship the FUCK out of you. and worse? i’d probably fall for it and do it too. so then i wrote an entire fucking fic. and i’m so so sorry because this is actually pure filth. i don’t know what happened to me guys… suguru is just actually so nghh
A SITUATIONSHIP WITH SUGURU GETO is essentally the same as signing a contract giving away the rest of your life. because once you entered it, you were no longer able to get out. it started sweet, of course. suguru was good to you, despite not being your boyfriend. maybe that was what caused the sources of your problems.
you wanted to date suguru and the both of you knew it. despite the fact that you acted like a couple — kissing, going out together, having sex, even saying that dreaded l-word — you two didn’t have an official relationship. and it genuinely drove you insane. especially when suguru got a little too close with girls, knowing your attachment to him.
you told yourself that you couldn’t really be mad because you weren’t dating. so, you started doing the same thing, expanding your options.
and suguru didn’t like that very much.
you two often had explosive arguments that either went one of two ways; one of you blocking the other and severing communication or the desperate confessions of love to keep each other around.
and when he gets blocked, it doesn’t take suguru long to contact you somehow or someway. whether it be following you on a different account, or going as far as showing up to your home, he gets to you again.
it’s an endless cycle that constantly leaves you overwhelmed and emotionally drained. the intense love you have for suguru is undeniable. it’s undeniable in the way you let him back, the way you willingly go back.
every time you hit that unblock button, your friends look at you with concern and express their disappointment, warning you that he isn't good for you.
and deep down, you know they're right. of course, you're aware of the potential harm and negative consequences. but can't they understand the depth of your emotions? you’re in love with him. over time, your friends gradually stop shaking their heads in disapproval. instead, they simply roll their eyes when his name is brought up in conversation. it’s as if they've given up on trying to convince you otherwise.
however, suguru soon reaches his final chance, when you find out he’s been fucking one of your friends. this time, there’s no argument. you’re swift, blocking every one of his socials you know, deleting & blocking his number. that was it. you were free.
a year passes by, and you’re sure you’ve moved on. you got a new boyfriend, who’s sweet, and so dedicated to you. suguru hasn’t tried to contact you, even though he’d never be able to. you move from your college dorm, to live with your devoted boyfriend, you get a new job at a local cafe. you’ve never been happier, and everything is going so good for you.
almost too good.
suguru is a dedicated man, which you had seemed to forget. the entire time you thought he had left you alone, that he too had moved on; well, you were wrong.
moving didn’t hide you from him, even if you thought it did. he eventually found out from one of your friends, and you. you may have blocked some of his instagram accounts, but not all.
you often posted the scenery of your new area. and your boyfriend. it wasn’t hard to pinpoint you from there. you also posted about working at a cafe. so he searched up the cafes in the area — it couldn’t be too far, because he knew you weren’t a fan of driving long distances.
it gave him three options.
three different cafes. so here’s how he found you; it really wasn’t hard. he put on a mask over his nose and mouth, tucked his long dark hair into his hoodie. he went to the first cafe, and he asked a simple question. “is y/n on the clock today? she’s the only one who makes my order correctly.”
from the first two, he got a, “y/n? we don’t have an employee by that name.”
but the third one, god it must’ve been luck. because when he asked, he got the most blissful answer.
“y/n? oh, she works from 8am - 2pm on saturdays and sundays, but she works from 2pm to 8pm on mondays, tuesdays and thursdays.”
that was so much more than he bargained for, but god was he ecstatic. she told him your schedule? that coworker must’ve had it out for you, or something. but who was he to question her and her helpfulness?
what he had to do was obvious from there. he began to frequent your job on the days you worked, however only when you had just left.
he kept it this way, until that faithful day.
it was his usual routine. he had came to the cafe on sunday, at 2:30pm. you should’ve been long gone by now, so he thought. but there you were, working the register, with a sweet smile on your face and a bedazzled name tag on your breast.
you’re even more beautiful in person, he realizes. those eye bags you used to have faded away, and your smile is bright. you’re as perfect as he left you. only problem? you allowed yourself to be stained by another man. but it was okay, suguru assumed — he’d clean you up.
he doesn’t hesitate to get in the line to buy something, even though it’s so rare when he does. he comes to the counter with eyes and shaky breaths, acting like he’s just as surprised to see you.
your eyes are as wide as saucers when you finally set on him. you didn’t see him immediately come through the door, so you didn’t see him for a while… until there were only two people in front of him in the line.
you were internally panicking and screaming, your heart beating so fast you thought it may crack one of your ribs . how did he find you? what does he want? and beyond that, how handsome he looked — however, you shoved these thoughts down. you had a boyfriend now, and you were never engaging with suguru again. simple as that.
“what’re you doing here?” he breathes out as he reaches the counter. you’re beyond shocked, eyes widening as you blink at him. “no, what are you doing here? i work here. you don’t even drink coffee.” and it’s true; in all your time together, suguru never touched a cup of coffee. he swallows, hard, and you wonder just exactly he’s thinking as he stares at you from underneath his thick lashes.
“i have… lately,” his voice is gentle, sad almost, “i come here daily for coffee. speaking of… can i get a large of straight black dark roast? with a dash of cream and sugar.” you nod and hastily go to make it. when you come back, he shifts, rocking side to side. “i want to apologize to you. for everything. can… can we talk when you get off?”
and you should’ve known better. you really should have. but you’re stupid enough to say yes.
he waits several hours for you; you tell him you’re working a double, and you’ll be closing the store. he doesn’t mind, it seems, especially when he helps you mop and clean, helping stack up chairs. it reminds you of how gentle suguru was with you. when it’s time to go, he questions, “you walk home?” when you nod, he scowls, obviously still slightly protective over you. it warms your heart, but you force it to freeze back over.
however, it remelts when he pushes you to the inside of the sidewalk, standing on the side closest to the street. “my boyfriend and i live around the block, so i just walk here and back. i never really get any trouble.” suguru hums; you’re setting that boundary early on.
i’ve moved on from you, you’re telling him subliminally, i’m with someone new. it’s funny that you think suguru cares.
the two of you are silent as you walk, and you find yourself questioning whether or not he’s going to apologize; or is he just using this opportunity to get close to you again? you get your answer when a few minutes later, he stops and turns to you.
“y/n,” his voice is husky and it’s cold enough that his exhalation of your name leaves a white mist, “i’m sorry, for everything. i was wrong to put you through those things. you’re such a sweet girl; you didn’t deserve it.” and a part of him means it, truly. he would’ve done things differently if he knew you were going to leave. “can we be friends? please?”
you feel the cold tears prick your eyes, and you nod, once, then twice. you sniff and whimper out a sweet, “yeah, suguru. we can be friends again.”
that’s your biggest mistake.
because now that you’ve allowed suguru in your life again, you’ve just given him the green light to do what he does best. spiral things into his control. he starts out with small things, starting with planting a seed of insecurity.
you had let him meet your boyfriend, at your boyfriend’s insistence, to prevent insecurity. his boyfriend knew all about suguru, so to say that he was a bit hostile was a bit of an understatement. suguru was the epitome of calm, all kind smiles towards your boyfriend. it was almost… embarrassing for you. your boyfriend was almost childish; when you cooked for the three, and your boyfriend set the table, he refused to get a plate for suguru. suguru took it in stride, however, only laughing it off. this was damn near perfect for suguru; he was going to lie, but your boyfriend was so fucking stupid, he basically laid out the soil for suguru’s seeds.
what’s worse was the fact that suguru is both taller and more muscular than your boyfriend; and whenever suguru stood and looked down at him, your boyfriend would jeer. later, your beloved expressed his slight inferiority. you did your best to reassure him, but anytime you mentioned suguru, he seemed to bristle. ‘it isn’t like that,’ you’d plead to him, with hands out, ‘we’re just becoming friends again, i swear!’
of course, you’d eventually go to tell suguru that you had to distance, in order to preserve your relationship.
he was understanding, yes, but not without a, “why doesn’t he trust you enough to let us be friends?” and maybe that stuck with you a bit. a week later, suguru drops off two plates of your favorite food. he says he was making it, and thought you’d enjoy the meal. he even brought a plate for your boyfriend. you’re ecstatic — as the meal isn’t one you often find in stores, and when you do, it isn’t cook to the fullest. however, while the two of you were … engaging, suguru learned to make it perfectly.
you’re all smiles and cheers, while your boyfriend is livid. suguru doesn’t overstay his welcome and departs with a smile and a nice goodbye for you both.
the argument ensues from there.
“i thought you cut him off?” your boyfriend asks you, his voice snappy and filled with anger. you raise your eyebrows, still holding the two plates in your hands as you move to the kitchen. you reply,”you didn’t ask me to. you told me to distance, and i did. me and suguru haven’t talked much at all since then.”
“then why is he dropping off food for you?” your boyfriend shoots back, almost immediately. you place the food on the counter and turn to him, feeling your irritation simply growing and growing. “for us, you mean,” you correct sassily, furrowing your eyebrows, “it would be different if the food was only for me. but there’s some for you too. he was being thoughtful.”
“why can’t you so obviously see that he’s a manipulative asshole?” your boyfriend yells as he throws his hands up, pacing around the couch. “how dim are you? he did it while you two were fucking around, and he’s doing it now! i don’t want you to be friends with him anymore.”
you’re bubbling over. so he’s calling you stupid now? you feel your irritation shift into anger instead. “you don’t get to tell me who i can and can’t be friends with because of your own fucking insecurities. you don’t get to do that shit, you don’t get to make something out of nothing. and most of all, you don’t get to throw my past experiences that i trusted you with into my fucking face.” you’re grabbing your food, and your coat simultaneously.
“wait, where are you going?” your boyfriend asks, his voice suddenly dropping from a yell to a concerned croon. your shoving your arm into a coat sleeve as you huff, “somewhere to cool off. you’ve pissed me off and now i don’t even want to be in this fucking house.”
your boyfriend wants to protest, but he doesn’t. he purses his lips, and he nods, before mumbling out a, “be safe. keep your location on, please?”
begrudgingly, you nod, before leaving.
of course, you end up at geto’s. you’re venting your frustrations as you eat the meal he prepared. it hadn’t even been an hour since he dropped off the food, and here you were. it’s how he knew that his plans were working, and god was he ecstatic. of course, he couldn’t seduce you right here and now, no. it’s much too early. he has to keep throwing the rock at the window, over and over. until it finally breaks.
this throw is only a crack in your window.
those arguments begin to happen more frequently, suguru’s large crack gives way to more and more little cracks, until you’re at your wits end. you’re not gonna break up with your boyfriend yet, but you’re starting to get aggravated. suguru figures it’s time for him to implement his plan.
you’re laying on his couch after an explosive argument between you and your boyfriend about geto seemingly “flirting” with you: suguru had bought tickets for the ballet for all three of you; your boyfriend refused to go, falling right into suguru’s trap. you were aggravated with him — he denied every opportunity to actually make sure no flirting would happen and denied. then got mad at you for enjoying yourself. but you wouldn’t allow that, tonight. you went to see the ballet with suguru, and honestly the two of you had a wonderful time.
but then, your dress had ripped so suguru held it together until the two of you got into the car. you had walked into the house, suguru shuffling behind you and your boyfriend went ballistic, claiming that suguru ripped it himself.
now, suguru didn’t even plan this one — but your boyfriend was just so good at being a little helper. while suguru watched the argument awkwardly, trying his best to ‘deescalate’ the argument, while intentionally making it worse. you ended up leaving with suguru, ripped dress and all.
now here you are, sitting on his couch, with tears streaming down your beautiful made-up face. suguru’s cooing to you through your distress, giving your back gentle rubs. “he’s such a dick, y/n,” suguru murmurs as you blubber out your frustrations, “i can’t believe he got so worked up… it’s starting to piss me off, too. i even bought a ticket for him to come with us.”
you let out a cry of agreement, going, “which was so nice of you! he complains about us being alone but never come when he’s invited! it’s so… so…!”
“hypocritical,” he finishes for you, pulling you to lean on his shoulder. you comply, even when his hand slides to rub at your hips. “i wasn’t the greatest, but… god, even i didn’t do you like that. didn’t he call you stupid or something a week ago? i actually don’t think i’ve ever done that.” he laughs it off like a joke, but watches your reaction carefully.
the words have you thinking back. no, suguru hadn’t ever called you stupid. when he started getting jealous, he never put you in situations to be jealous over. he was never childish like your boyfriend… your brows furrow and you pout, hesitantly nodding. suguru smiles; it’s working. he takes this a sign to keep talking.
“and i noticed that like… he barely posts you. like you have a highlight for him on insta, and he doesn’t have one for you,” he begins, continuing to caress your skin, before pulling a pack of his favorite cigarettes out of his pocket. “and i don’t mean to infringe on your relationship, y/n.. it’s just weird to me. considering that i had a highlight for you even when we weren’t dating.”
you pause, lightly leaning into suguru’s touch. he’s not wrong… in fact, he’s very right. your boyfriend always told you that he didn’t post you a lot because he didn’t want people in your relationship business. you had accepted it at the time, but now suguru’s words had you questioning.
“am i overstepping?” suguru asks gently, his hand still rubbing your hip, pulling you into him as he exhales cigarette smoke. his dark violet eyes focus on you, and you examine his features, like you used to do before.
his long hair is pulled into his trademark half-up half-down style. slim eyes looking down at you with an all too familiar glaze. his angular, perfect features that had to been crafted by god. he’s… he’s so much prettier… you curse yourself for even thinking it, but he’s so much prettier than your boyfriend. he licks his lips as he watches you watch him. his head tilts slightly.
“maybe your boyfriend wasn’t wrong, though,” he says, voice husky — it sends unwanted shivers down your spine. “maybe i haven’t been exactly appropriate to you. maybe i do want you back.”
you swallow hard, slight shock flooding you. you expected it but didn’t at the same time. even though all those times you vented and brought up how your boyfriend was convinced suguru wanted you, suguru never confirmed or denied. only soothed you.
you don’t know what to say, or how you feel but you know it’s wrong. “n-no, suguru,” you force yourself to say, “it’s wrong. a-and you already had a chance. so many chances.” your scooting away, but suguru is pulling you back to him.
his lips press against your ear as he whispers, “c’mon, baby… please? i learned my lesson. i can’t bare to see another man treat you like this, when i know… we both know… i have my problems, but i can treat you so much better.” you’re trying to pull away, but your body and your heart is too familiar with suguru. you ache, despite knowing that it’s wrong. it’s cheating.
“suguru, i-i can’t cheat..!” you whimper pathetically, and suddenly, he’s pushing you down onto the couch, sliding on top of you. you moan, as you feel him press against you, cursing yourself.
“there it is,” suguru hisses, lifting his cigarette to his wet lips again, “moaning just based off that? he hasn’t been fucking my girl right, now has he?”
“not your girl..!” you gasp as he presses hot, open mouth kisses onto your neck. you protest out of guilt, but god, you don’t stop him.
because just like he said, you both know. your boyfriend couldn’t, in no way, compared to suguru geto.
“not my girl?” suguru whispers as he kisses up your jawline, “you sure? because you’re gasping and whining out like you are. you’ve always been mine, y/n. you know you have. let me take care of you, baby. come back home.”
there’s an ache in your pussy, and you’re sure that it’s your sexual organ talking when you whine, “okay, suguru, j-just please… please fuck me.” the need you feel overwhelms the guilt as suguru presses his clothed dick against you.
you can feel him, pressing against you through your panties, and the squeal you let out makes suguru laugh. he’s sliding you up with one hand and into his lap. he hikes your dress up to your hips and you think he’s going to take you right then and there; but no. instead he presses you down against his crotch, forcing you to get off on the feeling of his covered dick simply pressing against you.
“s-suguru! c’mon, give me more, please!” you mewl as you grip his broad shoulders desperately. you watch as he lifts his cigarette to his lips. “nuh uh,” he says as he exhales, “you’re going to pay for leaving me for some bitch who can’t even fuck you right. ride me jus’ like this, y/n. and don’t stop until i say so.”
and unfortunately, you’re obedient and desperate for any shred of stimulation you can get. you began grinding your hips down against suguru through his slacks, his hardened dick rubbing against your pussy through your panties. you’re so wet that you begin to gush through the thin cotton of your panties, dripping onto suguru’s slacks in a puddle.
you don’t say anything however, yearning for the intense pleasure that suguru always gave you. that year away from suguru must’ve made you forget; nobody will ever fuck you as good as he does.
he watches as you clutch onto him, pathetically grinding and shaking your hips down onto your lap, whining as your panties rub against your clit just right. in a few minutes or so, you’re even ready to cum. suguru has your habits memorized when you were close, and that hasn’t changed.
you still tremble, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. your eyes cross a little and your back arches. suguru grins. oh, you’re so close, aren’t you?
“stop.”
he chuckles darkly, and when you don’t listen the first time, he pulls you off of him. you let out a mix of a sob and a moan, your face twisting into something pitiful. “suguru!” you wail, fat tears spilling over. “i was so fucking close! why would you do that?”
suguru gracefully puts you on the floor between his legs, laughing at your plight. “oh, i never said you’d cum, dollface. i just told you to do it. but it’s okay, my dumb girl. ‘m gonna reward you a different way.” he begins unbuttoning the slacks as you perch between his legs. he’s rolling the black pants down his thighs, along with his boxers and there it is.
his dick bounces free. it’s long, and has a nasty curve upwards. he’s thick too — scarily so. his tip is fat and a perfect round shape. it’s a dark tan, a few shades darker than his skin. and it’s decorated with a silver reverse prince albert piercing. precum slides out, a silky white color. you feel drool collect in your mouth as his dick hovers above you.
“you know what to do,” suguru tells you with an expectant look, his cigarette perched perfectly between his lips, “open your mouth and let me use you. uh huh, just like that lovely, stick out that tongue…” you do as he tells you, hands on his knees as you lean up; tongue out, eyes locked with suguru’s.
he slaps his dick on your tongue a few times, before he slides his length into your mouth. immediately, your lips enclose around him. his hand laces into your hair, using it as leverage to pull your head down his length. you gag fiercely around him, hands moving from his knees to his thighs, digging into his skin.
suguru smokes his cigarette with hazy eyes as he pushes your head down his dick, and back up. the noise your throat makes when his tip hits your uvula is wet and messy, and god does he love it.
your slobbing down his length, your spit trickling down his balls; your eyes are filled with tears, a few even spilling over. however, your plump lips stay wrapped around him. you suck your cheeks in and gaze up at him, submission coating your every movement. your tongue slides against the glands on his dick, making him let out a soft groan.
“take this dick down your throat just like that, whore, fuck,” he rasps to you, his movements becoming a little more aggressive, “did you suck on him like this? lookin’ up at me all pretty. bet you didn’t suck his dick like you needed it; didn’t show him how much of a fucking whore you are, hm?” he puts his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table, and then he slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “i think we should. is that okay?” as best as you can, you nod, still swallowing up his dick.
suguru is on his phone for a few seconds, before laughing out, “ha! he texted me. he wants me to bring you fuckin’ home. too bad; you’re already home, right, baby?” of course, you don’t answer. your mouth is too stuffed full of his dick. suguru gets rougher then. his original languid pace is discarded, and he begins to push and pull himself out of your mouth. his tip rams against your uvula, before sliding into your throat. you’re choking for air, sputtering. he’s fucking your throat so cruelly, there’s a bulge in your throat every time he sheaths himself in your mouth.
you try to pull in air through your nose, but it’s too hard to focus when suguru is pressing your face into his pelvis, his heady scent filling you and making you dizzy. or was that just the lack of oxygen? you realize that he’s recording your pathetic display. you’re a fucking mess, pussy drooling as he ruins you.
“shiiit, angel,” he curses, head thrown back, and his locks messy around his shoulders. his bottom lip between his teeth, “gonna cum. gonna cum in your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow every fuckin’ drop, understand?”
you swirl your tongue around him, letting him know you’re ready. his thrusts become reckless, before he spills his load inside of your mouth. his cum tastes nice, as always — it has a slightly bitter tang to it, but you take it in stride. as he slides his softened dick out of your mouth, you open your mouth, letting your tongue loll out; showing him his cum coating your mouth.
his phone captures it all.
“is this your girlfriend?” he taunts the camera, grabbing your cheeks and bringing your mouth closer to the phone as cum dribbles down your chin. “look at her. that’s my cum. this is my girl.” you swallow his cum then, and suguru lets out a coo of, “good slut.” before he’s ending the video and sending it.
as soon as he releases your face, you’re sucking in big breaths of air, coughing and sputtering and wiping your eyes from the tears. he rubs your head while you do so, letting out soft coos of reasurance.
he sits back for a second, sliding his dick back into his slacks, before telling you, “go to my room and get undressed. i’ll be there in a minute.” he watches you nod and scamper up, going up the stairs to his room, your hips swaying.
suguru picks up his put out cigarette as he watches your boyfriend trip out about the video, both of your phones dinging with notifications. he lets out a laugh.
suguru always gets what he wants eventually, especially you.
he’s getting up to follow behind you then, pulling off his tie in the process. suguru can feel his own desperation and need for you setting in. it had been a year and a few months; in that time, he didn’t engage much in sex and romantic relationships. none of them were you.
and even now, when he gets to his room and you’re sat on his bed, eyes soft and legs slightly spread as you wait for him, he knows.
none of them will ever be you.
suguru stares at you, almost unnervingly as he walks into the room, leaning against the wall. it makes you self-conscious, curling into yourself as you press your hands against your body to shield yourself.
“don’t.” suguru says, and he walks to you, grabbing your arms. “i need to see all of you.” before you could even respond, he’s wrapping his tie around your wrists.
“suguru?” you question gently as the black fabric wraps around your hands, keeping you bound. suguru shushes you, before picking you up and moving you to the top of the bed. “shh, lovely. i gotta fuck those thoughts of your ‘boyfriend’ out of you. so you’re gonna be a good whore and you’re gonna take it. understood?”
“yes sir,” you whisper as he lays you down, before his hands are spreading your thighs, to reveal your pretty pussy; soaked with your self-lubrication. you move your bound hands to cover yourself, but suguru knocks them away. “put your hands away, what’re you covering yourself for? i know your body like the back of my hand.”
and he’s right, so you try your best to relax. your tensity is immediately forgotten when he puts a finger on your clit, rubbing slow circles against it. you shiver and let out a dulcet moan, a lovely sing of, “suguru— mnngh, fuck..” he takes so much pride in the way he makes you feel, the way he makes you cry out and arch your back just due to his finger rubbing against your clit.
“shh, dollface,” suguru says as he sits between your legs, spreading them more. his large hand wraps around your calf to put your leg up. his finger trails from your clit to your sopping hole, before sliding two fingers inside.
the stretch from just two of suguru’s fingers had you letting out mellifluous moans, squirming in his hold. he held you still while he pushed his fingers inside of you until they were knuckle deep, thumb pressing against your clit.
suguru was slow and methodical with the way he fingered you; sliding his fingers out slowly just to thrust them back in a fast pace, fingertips curling against your warm, gummy walls. your slick was dripping down onto his palm as he rocked his finger into you.
you were his mess, letting out whines as his long, thick fingers scissored inside of you, pressing against your g-spot. “he couldn’t get you like this, now could he?” suguru asked as he pressed his fingers against your g-spot again, making you squeal. you didn’t answer at first, but when he added a third finger inside of you, hissing out, “fucking answer me.” you were quick to babble out, “no, sugu! no, no, no, he could never get me like this… only you, only you!”
suguru chuckles in satisfaction as he watches you struggle to hold on to the sheets with your bound wrists. “fuckin’ slut,” he muses, “cheating on your boyfriend like some fucking whore who can’t keep her legs closed.” he tuts, and shame floods through you; however, it’s eradicated by the way he curls his fingers against your g-spot, his quick but precise thrusting hitting it every time. your juices are all over his hand, sloppy noises echoing through the room. the way suguru looks at you has your heart beating in your fucking ovaries.
you’re close, euphoria is spreading through your body and your stomach is tightening. your pussy is contracting around suguru’s fingers as you whimper, “i’m sorry…! sorry for bein’ a slut, sir.”
“i forgive you,” he laughs a little bit, as your eyes roll back. “you’re my slut, of course. you’ll always belong to me; always be mine, no matter where you go.” right as your pussy begins to spasm around him, and your body begins to twitch, eyes rolling back again — he slides his fingers out of you.
the sob you let out is tremendous, bordering on a scream. suguru only watches as you sob, fat tears rolling down your already ruined face as you sob out different variations of ‘why?’ and ‘i wanted to cum!’ through your tears as you glare up at him. suguru only watches your pathetic, desperate display as he begins to fully undress. his eyebrow raised as he watches you, slightly smirking. you’re so cute, so desperate for him. he loves when you get like this.
by the time he’s fully naked, you’re facedown into the blankets, still whimpering, your sobs slowing. suguru wants to laugh, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. he crawls on the bed towards you, grabbing you and turning you over onto your back. you look up at him with teary eyes as he hovers above you. your bound hands reaches up, and you mange to press the back of your hand to his cheek. oh, how you missed this sight.
your hands sneak to his hair, and you pull out his ponytail. his hair falls around his shoulders, and he smiles at you; a genuine smile, and you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle. he leans down, sliding his lips against yours as his hand wraps around your throat loosely. suguru tastes like sweet cigarettes, like a mix of nicotine and love and sex. you don’t know how else to describe it.
“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you feverishly. you try your best to keep up with his insistent lips, as his tongue curls against the roof of your mouth.
“m-missed you more,” you rasped back against his lips.
you guys are pulling away occasionally to gaze at each other sweetly at his other hand trails down your body, caressing you wherever he can. he’s devouring your lips, hand slightly tightening on your neck. “love you, y/n,” he whispers, before continuing on like it was never said.
your heart pumps, and before you realize it, your lips are moving to say, “love you more, suguru,” you feel him grin into the kiss, and it becomes more desperate. it’s messy, the way he kisses you — the way he laps at your mouth and begs for more of you, all of you.
you can’t help but give.
his tip rubs against your hole, his piercing cold against your heat. on instinct, you let out a slight hiss at the feeling. he shushes you gently, as he pushes his hips forward slowly. the stretch of him has your head falling back, and your eyes rolling. your mouth falls open in an o, but you’re unable to make a noise, as if he’s snatched it out of you.
pain mixes with pure pleasure as he feeds your greedy cunt inch after inch of him. your body is trembling as you feel his piercing scratch your g-spot, making you gasp out, before said piercing is nudging your cervix. his curved dick has you going insane, hitting spots you forgot you had. above you, suguru is as much of a mess as you are.
he’s panting, irises so dilated that it’s just black with a ring of dark violet. one hand is gripping your hips, the other squeezing your throat as he spears you on his dick, soft moans escaping his lips. “fuck, angel,” he groaned as he threw his head back, “missed this pussy s’much. you’re taking me so well, look…” you manage to look down, watching as suguru pulls out of you before snapping his hips into yours.
the single, experimental thrust has you seeing stars. your tied hands are pushed above your head by suguru and he holds your hands, keeping them there. he pulls your legs to rest on his shoulders, and you blank. because now, the angle is different, and he’s pulling out and—
the rough thrust he blesses you with has you whimpering out his name, and that’s just the beginning. it doesn’t stop from there, no. he releases your hands, going to grip your throat again as he begins to stuff you full, slamming into you over and over.
that hand on your throat tightens just how you like it, until your noises are gasped and raspy, and there’s black spots swimming in your vision. this, paired with the way suguru pushes his hips into yours, bullying your pussy, has you teetering on the edge.
suguru knows this. he knows your body far too well, much more than you’d like. he knows that when he trails a hand down to your breasts, to pull and twist at your nipples like he does right now, it only shoves you closer to the edge. “don’t cum,” he whispers to you, “i didn’t even really get started, doll. don’t tell me you’re gonna cum just from a few strokes like this?” he smirks down at you, as his thrusts pause. the hand around your throat sliding up to rub his thumb on your bottom lip. the slight relief has you sucking in deep breaths, trying to regain your voice.
suguru decides to help you. he resumes his fierce thrusts, ripping a croaked cry of, “suguru—!” out of you. he picks up speed, jackhammering into you, and your nails dig into the palm of your hand as you’re forced to grip your own hands. he’s fucking you like this, and you’re supposed to not cum? his thrusts snatch the barely regained air out of your lungs, forcing more tears into your eyes.
your clit throbs painfully, your stomach tight as you try to hold on to the orgasm that is so close, too close to washing over you. “can’t control yourself?” suguru taunts from above you with a slight laugh, “fuck, baby, you’re a mess. got your fucking juices drippin’ down my balls,” he let out another chuckle, “pussy just clenched around me too. you like when i make fun of you, don’t you? masochistic cumwhore.” he grips your face, watching your tits bounce fiercely with every thrust.
“it huuuurts, sugu,” you whimper in an agonizingly sweet voice, “please let me cum, please, please, i can’t take it..! please, sir, it hurts…!”
“you love it when it hurts, though,” he tuts at you, his hair hanging in his face, and above you as he keeps up his thrusts. you let out a desperate, pained whine and he softens. just a little. but he doesn’t let you cum yet. instead, he leans down, lips pressed to your ear, “say you won’t leave me, ever again. say you won’t go anywhere.”
you know it’s a trap, but you fall into it anyways. “i won’t! i won’t leave you again, i promise, p-please just let me cum. i won’t go anywhere, i won’t ever have anyone else! j-just please…”
“cum.” suguru says one word, and immediately, you do. your eyes roll back, your body seizes, and your pussy clenches so impossibly tight around him that he can’t even pull out.
“shit—!” he hisses, hands gripping your hips. your clenching sends him over the edge too, his cum pumping into you. he didn’t mean to cum inside of you, no. but now it’s given him an idea. “fuckin’ minx, pussy clamped so hard on me, it had me cum in you,” he rasped as he pressed his lips to your sweaty skin.
you want to care, you really do. you want to panic and make a scene, but god, you don’t fucking care. the feeling of having his cum inside of you feels too good. you didn’t even let your boyfriend cum inside of you. should you be ashamed of yourself? you don’t know. actually, scratch that. once again, you don’t fucking care. all you can murmur is, “just… don’t do it again.”
you don’t care because your mind is foggy, the best kind of foggy. the orgasmic haze you’re in has you blissed out as you’re splayed across suguru’s bed.
suguru is marking you, biting, licking, sucking at your neck, collarbone and chest until they’re littered with reddish-purple hickeys, along with the hand print from him choking. if he’s going to bring you home to your boyfriend, he’s going to bring you back with a message. he grabs his cigarette and his lighter. he lights it, and takes a puff, before looking down at you. “this is gonna hurt,” he tells you, and you connect the dots immediately. you shake your head at him, but he shushes you. “be a good slut, and let me do this. don’t move, or it’s gonna hurt more.”
you go completely still, biting your lip as tears appear on your lash line. he softens when he sees you like this, scared. his hand presses against your face, trying to soothe you. even as he presses his cigarette against your collarbone. in order to distract you, he begins to thrust again. the pain and pleasure fight for dominance over your body, and you focus on the pleasure; even though the smell of your burning flesh fills the room. he puts out his cigarette two more times on your skin, before pressing kisses to the scars.
“i have to make sure that you, and everyone else, know that you belong to someone.” he whispers to you, still pressing kisses to the spot. you barely understand him though, because you feel like you’re fading. drowning in a sea of pleasure that he’s created.
his eyes lock on your bound hands, and the red mark around your wrists. he unties your hands, and you let out a garbled noise of relief. you watch as he presses kisses to your wrists, while still pumping his thick dick through your walls. you’re on the edge again, and suguru flicks at your clit, making you cum another time, your body twitching and your hands grabbing at his skin.
suguru’s close, too, and he knows what he has to do now.
suguru’s ideas are dangerous, but he finds it in him that he doesn’t care. he can’t trust your word that you’ll never leave. he can’t rely on just marking you. he’ll have to make sure that you’re unable to go anywhere, he’ll have to make sure that you need him.
he’ll have to knock you up.
it’s as simple as that. the simple idea of you swelled with his child has him reeling. suguru knows it’ll work. you don’t use birth control, because you don’t like the way it makes you gain weight, and you often forget to take the pill. and, he saw condoms and plan b’s at your house. it’s almost comical. suguru’s sure that you’d take his baby; but not your boyfriend’s.
the idea excites him even more and he grips your thighs, using his weight to push you into a mating press.
everything’s a blurry mess from there.
he’s slamming his hips into you with a regained fever, over and over and over. your heightened sensitivity is unable to take it, and you’re a squealing, whining mess with every move that he makes. your grasping at anything in your reach, mainly him and the bedsheets.
suguru folds you in half as he feels his own orgasm coming. “you’re gonna take every drop i give you, understand? don’t waste my cum, slut.” you want to tell him to wait, to cum on your stomach. but you don’t. you can barely think at all. instead, you lose control of your body as you cum right with him, as he shoots his load of thick cum straight to your womb.
you think he’s done, but no; instead he flips you over onto your hands and knees. he grips your throat from behind with both hands as he slams into you one more time. pumping and filling you, breeding you like some animal. you can barely moan anymore, animalistic whimpers and grunts escaping you instead as he slams his hips against the plush of your ass. suguru lets go of your neck to grip your hair, pushing your face into his pillows as you drool mindlessly, brain fucked away.
“helloooo…” he asks, teasing you purposely, “anyone in there?” when you don’t answer, he barks out a laugh. “look at you. gone stupid on my dick. i expected you to last longer. but no; you’re nothin’ but a dick hungry cumslut.” your body twitches and you make out some noise, resembling a ‘nooo…’, but suguru can’t tell.
“like it when i use you like this, hm? like it when i treat you like my fuckin’ cocksleeve, don’t you, y/n?” this time you manage to answer with a sweet ‘yes!’ and suguru smiles. you’re cumming again, sinking into the blankets with rasped moans. your throat is probably shredded from all the screaming you’ve been doing, but it’s okay.
it’s not long before suguru’s shooting his third load into you — or is it his fourth? you don’t remember, and neither does he.
you think it’s over, and maybe it is for approximately five to ten minutes. he gives both of you a break, and he presses kisses into your spine.
however, when he maneuvers you into a different position, you almost pass out. suguru isn’t done with you yet. the night continues like that, until the rosy fingers of dusk trickle into the room. he fucks you all fucking night, with a few breaks. he fucks you to sleep, and when you wake up, he’s still fucking you. a mix of your fluids soaks his bed, as he fucks load after load after load into you.
because suguru’s on a mission.
so when morning comes and he’s finally done using and abusing your body, he knows he’s succeeded. he scoops his cum off your thighs and stuffs it back into you, and right after he slides your panties back on, making sure it stays there.
soon after, when you wake again, he carries you to the bathroom, and he washes you up, still making sure that not too much of his cum slides out. he’s gentle with you, carrying you on his back around the house, driving you to get dunkin’ donuts for breakfast. the two of you completely ignore your phones, and the messages your boyfriend — well, ex-boyfriend left you two.
in fact, suguru does him one better. he arrives at the house with his arm around your waist and you nestled into his side. your ex-boyfriend is more than livid, more than furious, but he pales in comparison to suguru.
he screams at you, only once; because suguru is there to utter out a, “you yell at my girlfriend like that again, and i will fucking kill you.” and both you and your boyfriend are shocked. but suguru only nods to you, smiling gently as you hurry to collect everything you need. feminine products, clothes, jewelry. important things. anything you miss, suguru says you’ll get later. your boyfriend doesn’t utter a word after that single scream.
of course he texts you, ranging from angry to filled with despair. from “cheating fucking bitch” to “i’m sorry, i’ll do better, just please come home”. he’s soon blocked.
and when you miss your period the next month, you’re telling suguru. when the pregnancy test comes up positive and you’re looking up at him with a mix of shock, fear and excitement, he scoops you up into a kiss, murmuring about how he’s so happy.
because now you’re his forever.
#⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ jazi writes#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#fem reader#jjk x fem!reader#geto suguru#jjk geto#geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#getou suguru x you#suguru geto smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x poc!reader#poc reader#jjk x readet#jjk x reader smut#geto x female reader#geto x fem reader smut#🎧
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better late than never
in which uni student fem!reader finally shares exactly what she's been worried about with spencer
18+ for pregnancy scare
warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, reader doesn't want to be pregnant, age gap (unspecified)
a/n: listennn lots of you guys asked for more spence x uni reader... but u didn't specify WHAT u wanted... so now we're fantasizing about pregnancy scares because we're all what?? say it with me!! MENTALLY ILL!!!!
For the fifth time, you have to restart the paragraph you were reading. For the fifth time, it doesn’t make any sense—words strung together like clashing beads on a dancing string, blurred together by the tears you’ve been fighting all day. Anthropology is by far the easiest of the six classes you’re taking this quarter, but suddenly completing this routine assignment feels like scaling a mountain. It is, of course, nothing in comparison to the catalytic source of your immense stress. The thing you’ve been trying to ignore for nearly a week, and as a result, have become more and more obsessive about.
A flare of rage overwhelms you and you slam your laptop shut. Then as quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, cooling to desolation as you bury your face in your hands with a sob. You hear paper shuffling from the desk where Spencer has been silently working and you try to reign in your emotions, but it’s too late.
“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches, slowing to a stop in front of your spot on the couch. “What’s going on with you?”
You sniff, quickly brushing the tears away with trembling hands. But your voice is thick and strained when you fruitlessly attempt to lie.
“Nothing.”
When you refuse to look up at him, he kneels down in front of you.
“Really? This doesn’t have anything to do with why you’ve been so quiet these past few days?”
Of course, he noticed. You were a fool for thinking he wouldn’t. Finally you break, looking to him for subconscious comfort. And he’s looking up at you so earnestly, with so much genuine concern in those puppy dog eyes, that the waterworks threaten to start up all over again. Your lip quivers.
“I can’t tell you,” you squeak.
“That’s a really scary thing for me to hear. Do you understand why?” His voice is calm, carefully grabbing your hand and bringing to his heart. “Because I need to know if something happened to you.”
You shake your head tearfully, looking down at where you’re weakly grasping the front of his shirt.
“‘s not like that,” comes your reedy whisper. “Nobody hurt me or anything, I just—I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
“I won’t get mad, I won’t,” he promises desperately, “right now I just want to know what I can do to make this better. I hate seeing you like this.”
A shuddering sigh forces its way out of your lungs. You suppose this is the kind of thing you probably should tell your boyfriend about, as petrifying as it may be.
“I don’t know, I… I’ve just been freaking the fuck out because I’m worried I’m pregnant, and this would be the worst possible timing—like I know I want kids one day but I’m still in college and you’re like a real adult with an adult career and I don’t want to fuck that up for you and I know that even if I am pregnant I have choices but that’s still so scary and… and I don’t know.”
You’re expecting a long pause, punctuated by some berating and bemoaning, but it never comes. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat.
“Honey, this is exactly the kind of thing you tell me about,” he says, voicing your earlier thoughts. And he doesn’t even sound furious. You glance up, watching his visage swim beyond your teary eyes. “I am not mad. That wouldn’t make any sense. Do you know who’s fault it would be if you accidentally got pregnant?”
“Well—"
“Mine. So if this ever happens again, please don’t keep it to yourself for so long. I won’t be mad at you for something like this, ever.”
“But… you’re not worried?”
He shakes his head slowly, looking utterly unperturbed.
“I wouldn’t be worried either way. But no, I’m not concerned that you’re pregnant. We’re really safe. The chances of you being pregnant are essentially negligible.”
“But I’m two weeks late.”
“That can happen when you’re taking six upper level classes,” he agrees, swiping your cheek with a thumb. “You’re under a lot of stress. I’m completely unsurprised that your body is reacting to it.”
A weight like a ton of bricks is lifted from your shoulders, but doubt still lingers.
Spencer sees the hesitation in your eyes.
“Would it make you feel better to take a test? Just in case?”
You nod gingerly, wrapping your hand around his wrist. He takes it in both of his, kissing the back before dropping them to your lap.
“Okay. I’ll go get a couple. But I’m confident that you have nothing to worry about, and I’m usually right about these things.”
You take another deep breath, the last of the anxiety floating away with it. He’s usually right about everything.
“Spence?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your palm with his thumb and looking at you with so much love in his eyes.
“Do you maybe feel like doing my homework for me?”
He smiles.
“Nice try. Get it done and we can go out for dinner, okay?”
“Always worth a shot,” you shrug.
He laughs, shaking his head as he stands.
“And the answer will always be no.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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when i break, it’s in a million pieces
alexia x putellas!reader
the pressure on r is intense, from her sister more than anyone. an injury pushes her to her breaking point. desperate not to let her sister down, r struggles under the weight of her injury.
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Something that was always said about your sister was that she pushed everyone around her to be better. This was something that you knew to be true on a whole other level. The pressure of being Alexia Putellas' sister was immense; not just from the media, and the coaches, and the team, but from your sister herself. She expected a lot from you, she always had.
Alexia knew better than anyone what it took to be a great footballer, and when you expressed to her that you wanted it too, she promised herself that she would help you get there. The raw talent was there, and with your sister by your side, it seemed to the world that you would be unstoppable.
It was your first real season with Barça, having spent the last 2 seasons on loan at Sevilla. It had been good for you, helped develop your skills and allow you to be independent. Now, at 20, you were back in Barcelona, playing with the first team, and with your sister, for the first time.
Your sister always toed the line between pushing you just hard enough, and pushing you too hard. Your mother often had to step in, and get Alexia to back off, just a bit. Not that you were on the team with her though, where she was the captain, training with her everyday, you couldn't really go to your mother for help when Alexia pushed you too hard. You just... took it.
It was a lot, several stressful months at the beginning of the season where you tried to carve out your place in the team. It felt like Alexia was breathing down your neck, always asking for more. It was an environment that you had thrived in, before. And then you'd gone on loan, and you'd learned to push yourself.
Alexia's pushing, compounded with your pushing was, if you were honest, too much for you. You could never tell your sister, though, not when she was just trying to get you to be the best version of yourself.
It didn't help that the media had wild expectations for you; they were expecting you to perform how Alexia had when she was 28, and you were only 20. Every mistake, every missed shot had media outlets questioning if you would ever be as good as your older sister. You knew Alexia didn't pay attention to the things said about her online, and you tried to do the same. You weren't as successful.
Things only got worse when Alexia hurt her knee. Your heart ached for her, knowing exactly the toll not being able to play took on your sister. Still, you were suffocating in her absence from the pitch.
You needed to be better, stronger, faster, play harder, pass more precisely, shoot right on target every time. You needed to be passionate, but not hot headed. Confident, but not cocky. You felt like you were being pulled in a thousand different directions; every move you made seemed to be the wrong choice. Your solution? Work harder. Train extra. Push yourself to the absolute brink.
Everyone seemed to realize that you were pushing yourself too hard. Everyone, that is, except your sister. She only saw the results, how well you were playing. It was like she was blind to how exhausted you looked. Your teammates tried bringing it up with you, and with Alexia, but you both insisted that there was no problem. Alexia, because she genuinely didn't think there was one. And you, because you would rather drop dead than disappoint your sister.
Somewhere deep inside, you had convinced yourself that if you weren't perfect, completely and entirely perfect, Alexia wouldn't love you the same. Your sister's praise and approval was something you'd always sought; only recently did it reach the point that you were willing to do anything to make her proud of you; fuck your body and it's limits- Alexia was counting on you, expecting things of you, and you were going to do them. No matter what it took.
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It made sense, then, that your body would reach it's breaking point. The load on you was immense; playing almost every minute of every game. You were overworked, but you wouldn't admit it. You'd gone back out for the second half of the game against Eintracht Frankfurt, dismissing Jona [and Irene, and Patri, and Marta]'s questions about coming off to rest. You had more to give, you assured them. And give it your all, you would.
You were on the left side of the pitch, attempting to dribble past one of the opposing midfielders. The tackle wasn't really very clean; she came sliding in towards your ankles after the ball was already sailing towards Mario. Still, if you weren't so exhausted and overworked, you would have seen her coming, and moved out of the way. Or, at least, you would have managed to move just enough that the tackle wasn't catastrophic.
Instead, she caught you just right, crashing into you so hard that your ankle rolled in a way it wasn't supposed to. You felt the crack as well as heard it, the excruciating pain that followed forcing you to the ground.
Your head was left completely untouched, and the ref let play continue, apparently feeling that the tackle didn't deserve a yellow. You felt like you could feel every nerve ending in your ankle being lit on fire, at the same time as a deep ache permeated out from the bones in your lower leg. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, truly. You were on your stomach, face hidden away in the crook of your elbow, as you raised your other hand in the air, gesturing wildly for help.
Your heart was racing, ankle throbbing, as you felt everything come crashing down around you. This couldn't be happening. How could this be happening?
"Y/n?" Ingrid asked quietly, resting a hand on your back. Mario had kicked the ball out, and the medics were sprinting across the pitch towards you. Ingrid was closest, and while the rest of the team stood frozen, praying to anyone they could think of that this wasn't as bad as it seemed, the Norwegian crouched down by you, able to hear the small, pained whimpers escaping your lips.
"Ingrid, help," you choked out, reaching blindly for her. She grabbed your hand, holding tight.
"The medics are almost here, just hang on."
-----
Up in the stands, Alexia sat, watching on in absolute horror, at the way your body laid on the pitch. She'd been much too far away to hear the crack, but she knew what a broken ankle looked like. Your reaction only confirmed it. She was gripping the arms of her seat like her life depended on it, barely able to tear her eyes off you when Mapi called her name for the third time.
"Go, Ale. Get down there. She'll need you." Mapi nudged, looking to Jana when Alexia made no move. Mapi was still on crutches, unable to grab Alexia and go like she needed to. Jana got the message, standing and grabbing Alexia's hand in hers.
"Alexia," she called, waiting until her captain's eyes looked up at her. "Come on. She needs you." With another tug on the blonde's hand, Jana got Alexia to stand, before she pulled her out of the row of seats, and towards the stairs.
-----
The medics had maneuvered you onto your back, before they asked you what hurt. They already knew, even as the question left their mouths.
"What hurts?"
"Ankle. It's bad, it's really bad," you cried, before yanking your jersey up to cover your face. It was bad enough that this was happening, and the entire stadium, everyone watching being able to see you cry only making it worse.
You stayed in your little hiding place, shirt covering your face, until the crowd of medics around you, combined with the medical cart that had been driven onto the field, provided enough of a shelter. When you removed your kit from your face, you were met with the sight of most of the team standing over you, pained expressions across their faces. You were handed the dreaded green whistle, which you tried to push away. The medic insisted, and Irene leaned over you, as if daring you to reject it again.
You accepted it, then, taking deep inhales of the medication. Your brain felt hazy, suddenly, and it didn't really register when they put the puffy orange cast over your leg.
The team hovered, silent support, as you were moved onto a stretcher, and then the cart. You were left with pats on the shoulder and kisses on the forehead before the cart began moving, driving off the pitch. The crowd clapped as you went, and all you could think was that you had no idea how long it would be before you could get back on the pitch.
-----
"Where is she?" Alexia questioned, grabbing the arm of the physio attempting to pass by her. She'd been waiting for you by the medical rooms for a few minutes, only growing more nervous as time passed.
"Ambulance. They're taking her right to the hospital." The physio replied, looking sympathetically at the blonde.
Alexia swore, taking off down the hall and towards the doors. Thank god she was cleared to run again. The blonde just barely caught the ambulance before the back was slamming shut, hopping up and in. She slid in right next to the stretcher, instantly leaning over you.
"I'm here, pequeña." She murmured, taking in the absolutely devastated expression on your face.
"It broke, I heard it break." You whispered. Alexia felt like her heart was being squeezed at the sound of your shaky voice.
"It's all going to be okay, I promise."
You shook your head. "I'm sorry, Ale." You barely got the words out, a loud sobbing ripping it's way out of you.
Your sister looked confused, reaching a hand down to cradle your cheek. "You don't have anything you need to be sorry for, hermanita. Nothing."
The conversation was only agitating you, and the paramedic gave your sister a look, one telling her to change the topic.
"Does it hurt?" She asked, glancing down at your heavily wrapped ankle.
You bit your lip. "No."
Just then, the vehicle hit a bump, jostling the stretcher slightly. Your ankle was jolted, and you let out a high pitched squeak, gripping on tight to the sides of the stretcher.
"Sure, it doesn't hurt." Alexia sighed. "We're almost at the hospital, okay? They'll fix you right up."
Alexia was speaking to you like she had when you were much younger; when the injury to be fixed was a scraped knee, not a broken bone. It was comforting, though, a glimpse of soft and sweet Alexia that you hadn't really seen much of recently.
"Can you call mom?" You asked quietly. Your sister swallowed back tears of her own at how young you seemed suddenly. You were only 20, and though normally you acted much more mature than that, she was reminded of your age by the look of complete fear in your eyes.
Your mother, however, was out of the country on a girls trip with her friends She had been texting Alexia pretty much nonstop since the injury, and Alexia had only managed to reply to one of the texts. She told your sister, though, that she didn't have good enough cell reception to call. Alexia was going to have to be enough for you.
"Her internet isn't good enough to call, remember? I'm right here with you, though. I'm not going anywhere." Alexia vowed, peeling your hand of the side of the stretcher, and wrapping her hand around it.
Your sister didn't miss the unsure glint in your eyes, and although your hand tightened around hers, she could tell that you were holding back from her, at least a little bit. The trouble was, she didn't understand why. You used to go to Alexia with all your problems; she was one of the only people you would let see you cry. Now, though, you chewed aggressively on your bottom lip, blinking away your tears.
Alexia wondered when you'd stopped trusting her the way you used to, and why.
-----
Thank god that Barça had connections at the hospital; you were in and out of x-ray fast, seen by the doctor, put on crutches within the hour. Your foot was encased in a moon boot, all the way up your shin, and you were... miserable. There was a permanent scowl set on your face, and you were answering your sister's questions with simple yes's and no's, refusing to make eye contact.
Alexia's chest ached seeing you in this much pain. She felt like she used to feel when you were little, and you'd cry; like she'd do anything, anything at all, to make you smile again.
Your other sister arrived in a flurry of chaos, and Alexia watched on as you practically melted into the hug Alba offered. She didn't understand; you went to Alba when you were in trouble, or if you wanted to goof around. You went to Alexia if you were upset. That was how it had always been, but suddenly, you couldn't look her in the eye.
"Olga went to go get you some stuff from your apartment. You can stay with Ale until you're better, alright?" Alba said.
Alexia didn't know when Alba had contacted her girlfriend, or how the decision for you to stay with her had been reached, but she was glad for it. You shouldn't be on your own, physically, and if your current attitude was any indication, also mentally.
"Did the doctor say how long you'd be out?"
You grew visibly pale at the question. "At least 4 months."
Alba opened her mouth, clearly about to comment on how that was... a long time for a broken ankle. Alexia elbowed her in the side, sending her a look to not bring it up. Alba promptly shut her mouth, figuring Alexia would explain later anyway.
What she didn't know was that you'd broken both your fibula and your tibia. The bones would take time to heal, time to rehab, as well as the partially torn muscles in your ankle. You'd asked about surgery, but the process wouldn't be sped up at all if you were operated on. You had no choice, but to wait it out. 4 months away from the pitch. 4 months.
"Hey, y/n?" Alexia said, waving a hand in front of your face.
"What?" You asked.
"I said your name like 5 times." Alexia told you, taking in the bewildered expression on your face. You'd completely tuned out, lost in your thoughts.
"Oh."
"Ready to go?" Alexia asked finally, when you didn't offer an explanation.
"Yeah."
You stood, slightly shaky on the crutches from the pain medicine, and began to make your way to the doors of the hospital. Your sisters followed close behind you. They didn't know it, but anyone looking at the two of them would have instantly known they were sisters; sporting matching worried frowns as they watching you move down the hall. Neither of them was really sure what to say to you, to make you feel better, and they hated standing by and watching you be upset. Nothing seemed to be working though, and you offered them nothing as you made it to your sister's car, sliding into the backseat without a word. The car ride back to Alexia's was completely silent, both of your sister's were lost in their thoughts, as you were.
-----
Alexia lay awake in her bed, unable to shake the feeling that she needed to check on you. Staring at the ceiling, her mind was racing, through every interaction she'd had with you recently. She couldn't figure out when you'd started acting so... strange. In retrospect, it had definitely gotten worse recently, and she hadn't noticed. The blonde had been busy, dealing with her knee and her contract renewal. Now that she'd taken the time to really look at you, for the first time in weeks, she saw someone who was hurting. All she wanted was to fix it.
"Go check on her, Ale." Olga spoke up from next to her girlfriend. "I can hear you thinking from here, just go so you can see she's fine, come back, and go to sleep.
Alexia considered for a minute, before leaning over to kiss her girlfriends cheek, and sliding out of bed. She was wearing socks, and her footsteps were quiet as she padded down the hall and to the door of the guest bedroom. She was just going to peek in, but when she rested her hand on the knob, she heard quiet snuffling whimpers coming from behind the closed door.
Twisting the knob and stepping into the room, the sounds cut off with a sharp breath. Alexia didn't say anything, not yet. Instead she walked closer to the bed, towards where you were facing away from the doorway, pretending to be asleep in the middle of the bed. Your body was trembling under the covers, so much so that she could see it even in the dark. She took a careful seat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to rest a hand on your arm. As soon as she did so, you broke, curling up into yourself as a heart wrenching sob fought it's way out of you.
Before your sister could say a word, you were twisting to face her and gasping out an apology. "Sorry, Ale, I'm sorry."
Alexia didn't know why you kept apologizing to her, but she desperately wanted you to stop. "Shh, just let it out. It's all okay, nena."
"It's not okay, Alexia, it's not. I can't play. I can't play, not for months. I can't do it, I don't want to do it." Nothing you were saying was really making any sense to your sister, but she was sure she wasn't getting any more out of you while you were still so worked up.
"Just come here, nena," she murmured, opening her arms up for you. For a second, you looked so unsure, so apprehensive, and Alexia felt like crying herself. Then, something inside of you must have given up, and you were launching yourself, as best you could, across the bed and into your sister's arms. Alexia held you close, humming a soft tune as she held you tight against her, like she used to do when you were very small.
For once, you didn't worry about disappointing her, or seeming weak in front of her. You let yourself fall apart completely, your sister's arms wrapped around you feeling like the only thing stopping you from breaking into a million pieces.
"You are strong, pequeña, so strong. You can do this, I know you can. My strong hermanita. You can do anything. I bet you'll be back on the pitch before 4 months is up." Alexia's words only seemed to make you cry harder, so she stopped talking, focusing on rocking minutely back and forth.
What if you weren't strong? You knew you weren't as strong as your sister. What if you were weak? What if you couldn't do it? Alexia said you should be able to come back before 4 months, but what if you didn't? You'd be disappointing everyone, Alexia most of all. The fear of that, of letting her down, felt like it was squeezing all the air out of your lungs, until all you could do was cling to your sister, and wait for it to pass.
It wouldn't pass. The thoughts wouldn't stop ricocheting around your head, your deepest fears and anxieties. Everything you'd been pushing down for weeks was bubbling to the surface until you were a trembling mess in your sister's arms.
"You have to calm down, nena, breathe." Alexia tried to remind you. You could only shake your head frantically, and your sister sighed, her worry increasing. "Okay, let's go call Alba."
Without another word, she held tight to you and stood up off the bed, walking towards her room. You were past caring, at this point, where you had your breakdown. Calling Alba might be a good distraction, you thought. So, you wrapped your arms around your sister's neck, trying to steady yourself.
-----
Olga had just been considering getting up, and going to check on the pair of you, when she heard her girlfriend's steps returning down the hall. They were slower than normal, and her lips tugged into a smile, knowing exactly what was about to walk through the door.
Her smile fell when Alexia walked in with you in her arms, the miserable sounds you were making filling the silent room. She made eye contact with her girlfriend, feeling her heart sink at how helpless she looked.
Alexia placed you in the middle of the bed, pulling away just slightly so she grab her phone and call your other sister. She hit Alba's contact, absentmindedly rubbing your back as you cried into her. Olga scooted closer, resting her head on Alexia's shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort to her girlfriend, who looked completely distraught at the state you were in.
"Hello?" Alba answered, grumpy at being woken in the middle of the night.
"She's really upset, can you talk to her?" Alexia asked, forgoing a greeting and holding the phone to your ear. Alba sat straight up in bed, her soft voice a stark contrast to the tension and stress flooding her. She began talking, about her day, about her week, about the silly thing she'd seen at the dog park the other day.
Your sister's soothing voice, your other sister's calming patterns rubbed into your back, Olga's nails scratching lightly at your scalp, all probably combined as you began to calm down.
Alba's voice had vanished, and Alexia smiled despite herself, knowing the other girl had probably fallen asleep talking. When your sobs quieted to small whimpers, and your sharp gasps for air turned to the occasional hiccup, Alexia spoke again. You were half asleep, and you felt safe, so safe, so tired. You let Alexia's words wash over you, the final push before you shut your eyes, drifting off on top of her.
"I love you, so much. Always. I'll be with you the whole way, nena. I promise you."
Groggily, you wondered if she meant it. If she really would be with you through this, if she really would still love you when you inevitably failed. Because you were sure you weren't strong enough for this. Despite your certainty, you also knew that you would do everything you could to meet your sister's expectations. The doctors had said 4 months, you'd do it in 3. No matter what it took, no matter how hard it was. If you failed, you'd deal with that later.
-----
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SKZ as types of doms
Pairings: OT8 x Reader
CW: Straight up smut, degredation, use of ‘slut’, p in v sex, etc.
Bang Chan - Daddy/Sadist
I know everybody sees Chan as a daddy dom and I genuinely agree with this
He would genuinely get off on your neediness and how bad you want him, and he would really feed off of being in control
He would be a sadist in the sense that he loves getting you overly worked up, drinking up all of your moans and whines for him
He loves watching you have tears in your eyes, begging for him on the verge of your orgasms
He would be so cocky about it too
“Hmm? Tell me what you want, baby. Go ahead, use your words.”
“Daddy please,” you cry out for him. “Need you so bad. Please–”
“You want to cum on my cock, baby?” He coos at you, teasing your clit with his thumb. You’re pliant for him, worked up from hours of teasing and edging. “Look at my girl, so needy and desperate.”
You cry out for him as he finally gives you what you’d been asking for, delivering with a mixture of praise and degradation.
“Feel so good… fuck, such a needy slut for me. Go on, tell me who’s making you feel this good, then maybe I’ll let you cum, yeah?”
He would also be *so* into the aftercare part of things. He’s such a natural caretaker, it’s in his bones.
He would give you so much praise and reassurance after, as well as cuddles. He would be SO into skinship, especially if he was rough with you.
“You’re mine. You know that, right? I love you so much.”
Lee Know - Brat tamer
One thing about your relationship with Lee Know is that you really like pushing the limits with him, seeing how far you can go or how much you can push him until he reaches his limits
It provides a thrill for both of you, like a cat and mouse game.
He really likes having the control over you, both of you knowing that when you go too far, he will be the one to put you back in your place
When he tries to give you a warning, it’s through a sharp glare, silent exchanges, or a small smirk or shake of his head
If you continue to act up, he says things like, “You’re playing with fire,” or “You know what you’re getting yourself into.” Sometimes he says it with a strong grip on your thigh, eyes staring straight ahead and lips pursed together so you don’t know how much it’s bothering him.
“I gave you three chances, doll, and you still decided to act up. You know the rules, but you just had to go and act like a needy slut, didn’t you?” He spits his words with a tight grip in your hair, right at your scalp with eyes that bore into yours, giving you no room to run from his punishment.
“On the bed, now. Ass up. You’re going to take what I give you. Are we clear?”
Loves punishing you just as much as you love to be punished
His favorite thing would be spanking you, with his bare hands or with a paddle, having you count them out for him. He’s just happy he gets a view of your ass, and when he’s done with you it’s pretty shades of red and purple, and he smirks because *he did that to you*
Changbin - Pleasure dom (Soft dom)
Changbin would be the type of dom who wouldn’t ever be able to really follow through with his threats.
He sort of just expects you to be good for him and follow his rules and you do.
“Fuck, you’ve been teasing me all day, baby,” he says with a grunt. “So bad. I should, fuck… I should really punish you.” His words hold no force behind it, and you can tell by the way that his lips are already on your neck or the way that his hands dig into your hips that he’s just as needy as you are.
“Gonna make you feel so good… Gonna split you open on my cock, babe.”
The most he does in terms of punishment is heavily overstimulates you, but it’s because he literally thrives off of seeing you come apart for him. He LOVES giving more than receiving, which means he’ll have you come apart for him several times… on his tongue, his thighs, his abs, his fingers… far before he even thinks about fucking you into oblivion
He loves it when your brain turns to mush and you’re babbling, spewing nonsense about how he just makes you feel so good and you’re all his
He loves teasing you and making you use your words while he’s cock-deep inside of you, stilling until he gets what he wants out of you. The more vocal you are, the more you get rewarded and he watches you fall apart
He will always hold out his orgasm for yours, fucking you through it for as long as you need… And usually the sight of you cumming all over his cock does it for him.
Hyunjin - Rope top
Hyunjin almost sees having sex with you as a form of art in and of itself
He would totally be into different rope arts and accessories, loving the way that they look on your skin
He would spend so much time just getting you ready for the act and be so gentle about it, the way his fingers trace across your skin as he secures the rope and ties the knots, giving it a gentle tug and analyzing it to make sure it’s to both of your likings
You would be so worked up before you even started doing anything
His favorite part about restricting you is that you are utterly helpless, forced to take what he has to give
He would be *so* attentive, he would know your body and just what buttons to hit more than you know
“You’re doing so good for me, love. You look so pretty all tied up for me,” he says. His fingers glide over your skin, rubbing against your nipples in circles and watching your face contort in pleasure as he gives them a slight tug. You arch your back as far as the restraints allow, and he smiles at how you get so breathless and needy for him.
He would talk and coax you through your orgasms, so sickly sweet and stroking your thighs or your arms as you shake around him
He knows your limits better than you do and he gives you *just* what you can take each time.
“There you go. Look at you. You did such a great job taking it. Come on baby, you can do another. Just one more.”
Han - Pleasure dom
Han would get so so turned on by any noises you make
Like, he would beg to eat you out and this man would be able to spend hours between your thighs, and he would be so desperate for it too
“Please, baby, let me taste your pretty pussy, please. Squeeze your thighs around my head, just like that, yeah…”
He will ask you to sit on his face and if you actually let him, this man is a goner
You know he’s really enjoying it by the sounds *he* makes when you finally let go and put your full pressure onto him, grinding onto his face and using him like a toy…
If you look you would see he’s bucking his hips up into the air, so happy that he’s the one that’s making you feel like this. He will totally make you cum at least four times until you’re sensitive and overstimulated
“You can do one more, can’t you? Yeah, you can… You’re so good for me, so pretty for me, baby. Let me make you cum on my cock just once, please. I promise it’ll feel good.”
His hands would be all over your body, knowing exactly which spots bring the breathiest moans out of you. As he fucks into you hard and desperate with reckless abandon, he’s somehow still working you up and turning your pain into pleasure
Felix - Soft dom
Felix would be a soft dom in the sense that he loves teasing you, getting you absolutely flustered
“You want me to touch you?” He asks, mocking innocence. “But I am touching you. Or are you wanting more? Go on, use your words.”
He would go insane on the praise with you, loving your little moans and vocalizations and he would just have to let you know
“You sound so pretty for me. You can be loud, tell me, am I making you feel good?”
This man loves it when you ride him, bouncing on his cock desperately as your hands run through his hair and on his chest, but he loves the intimacy of it because he can see your face and see how good you’re feeling… and so that he can get a good grip on your tits, running his fingers softly over your nipples to provide that extra stimulation, watching as your movements start to get sporadic
“Shit, you’re doing such a good job riding me, baby. Making me feel so good. You getting tired? Here, let me help. Shhhh jagiya, I got you.”
He would snap his hips up into you and the sounds would just be lewd, the sound of wet skin on skin and your moans and his soft pants
Like this, his hands underneath your thighs and you hoisted up, you can’t move so you’re just forced to take what he has to give
He’s so attuned to your body that you don’t have to warn him when you’re close, he can tell by the way you’re squeezing him and your breathing hitches, so he just coaxes you right through it
“You got it, there you go, fuck, clenching around me so good. You were made to take me. You did such a good job angel. I’m so close, you can take it. You’re being so good for me.”
Seungmin - Service/Reaction-seeking sadist
Once Seungmin finds that you’re into pain, it’s over for you
I think he would start out with a hand around your throat, lightly, barely squeezing, but seeing the way that you react to this brings out a different beast in him
This man would love seeing you cry for him
Anything he can do to get a reaction out of you is what he gets off on, and even more so if you try to act like what he’s doing isn’t affecting you; he likes to play with you and whine you up until you snap, needy, desperate and crying for him
“You like it when I choke you? No? Then why are you smiling, jagiya? Should I squeeze tighter, just to see?”
This man would *love* edging you. You’re on the brink of an orgasm and still trying to act like he’s not affecting you? Watch him rip that away from you. He’ll do it again and again until you’re writhing and begging for him, tears streaming down your face. You both love it though, it’s just a game to see how long it takes to get you to break.
“Are you done pretending? If you could stop being such a brat and just beg for it like the needy slut you are, you’ll get what you want,” he coos. And you do, pent up after being denied an orgasm for the fifth or sixth time? You’ve lost track. And he’s mean and slow with it too, teasing your entrance with his tip and watching you try to buck your hips into him, desperate for friction. When he finally sinks into you he wipes your tears away once, waiting for you to look into his eyes with your watery ones before he fucks you deep and hard like you crave.
I.N. - Primal/Sadist
Innie would be so desperate for you that he almost doesn’t realize at first just how rough he can be
We’re talking biting, scratching…
He would fuck you from behind with a hand wound tightly in your hair, pulling you up against him. All sorts of noises would come out of his mouth that sound like grunts and low moans. A hand grabs tightly at your hip, fingernails slightly embedded in your skin as he ruts himself into you hard, over and over. Hips smack against hips and skin smacks against skin.
He loves marking you. Something about seeing you covered in hickeys and bruises that he perfectly created on your skin drives him crazy.
“So pretty f’me,” he says as he sucks a particularly dark bruise into your inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue. “Love seeing you like this, letting everybody know that you’re all mine.”
If you cry for him in pleasure he gets off on that–his brain literally short circuits. Especially if you tell him how good he’s making you feel.
He’s making you feel so good that you’re crying? He can’t even comprehend but he knows he wants to do it again.
“Fuck, fuck…” he says. “You feel so good.” His hips smack into yours hard and he’s chasing his own pleasure, not caring about silencing his noises. If your higher-pitched moans get mixed in with his it drives him nuts, and he would do anything to get you to keep making those pretty sounds for him. As he’s about to cum he bites into your shoulder, not hard but enough to leave a mark, and when you moan from underneath him that’s all it takes for him to come undone.
Masterlist Recs
#skz#skz smut#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#bang chan#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#chris bang#christopher bang#lee know x you#lee know x reader#lee know smut#lee know#chan x reader#chan smut#chan#seo changbin#changbin x reader#changbin x you#han#han jisung#lee minho#stray kids jeongin#jeongin#jisung smut#yang jeongin
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MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter 3. )
— CHAPTER THREE: lovestreams …
— 𖦹 warnings? 18+, cursing, masturbation, jeongin is down bad ( this is told in jeongins pov )
previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist
jeongin genuinely was gonna go to sleep, but han jisung put the thought into his head. “fuck it.” he got up — sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. “oh that’s right.” he grabbed his headphones, sitting back down.
after plugging his headphones in, he typed in his favorite sight, scrolling through the main feed, searching for his favorite cam girl. “shit.” he cursed realizing she wasn’t streaming that night. should he just go to bed then? but he was already hard.
he was about to head to twitter, when he got a popup ad. “hm?” he read the words on the screen. “love streams?” he never heard of it, he shrugged, clicking the ad — what’s the worst that could happen.
he rid himself of his jeans while waiting for the page to load. his eyes widened at the new selection of girls, this sight was much bigger than the previous one, his cock twitched at the all the content.
he scrolled down, palming himself until he came across the top streamers selections. he scrolled over searching for the best one until he stopped at one. “lovergirl?” he clicked the screen, your body coming into frame, the camera off your face — you must want to keep your identity hidden.
“hi everyone!” your voice low and seductive, but also had a sweetness to it — that was what he liked the best.
“did you guys miss me?” you asked, your white robe hanging off your shoulders along with your bra strap. “yes? good i missed you guys to.” you chuckled, his cock was begging to be freed. “oh you want me to take it off?” you pulled at the robe, he nodded his head, like you could see him.
“if i do something nice for you, doesn’t that mean you have to do something nice for me?” he knew what that meant, so did the other viewers, because soon your tip jar was filling up. he reached for his card, typing in his credit card information.
he typed in $50 without flinching, you smiled at all the donations. “you guys are too kind.” you said, coming closer to the camera, he could now see your plump lips, your boobs about to spill from your bra, he bit his lip. “i guess i owe you guys something.”
you slowly undid your robe, letting it fall, your bra was next, you slowly pulled down the straps, undoing the latches, watch the bra fall into your lap, your boobs bouncing from being freed, he could hold it anymore, he stood up, pulling his underwear down, he cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his abdomen. “shit, he hissed.”
“is this what you guys wanted?” you chuckled , squeezing your boobs together, they looked so soft, he could only imagine what they felt like. “fuck.” he squeezed the base of his cock, teasing himself.
“no? this isn’t what you want?” your lips formed a pout, he thought about what they would look like covered in his cum. “well what is it you want?”
he quickly typed into the chat box. ‘your pants, take your pants off.’
“my shorts?” his heart fluttered, he knew there was thousands of comments saying the same thing, but it felt like you were personally answering him. “don’t you like them?” you teased, pulling at your waistband, a whimper emitting from your lips as you let it go, the elastic snapping against your waist.
“i wore them especially for you.” for him? that made him squeeze his cock, he for sure found his new favorite streamer.
“i guess you have to do something else for me.” he quickly typed in $100 dollars, he knew he shouldn’t have spend that much, but he was desperate — clicking the send button. “oh? 100 dollars, you must be really eager.” he froze, you were talking about him.
“what’s your name?” you said. “thank you FOX.YJN, everyone say thank you to FOX.YJN.” he smiled, the way you said his name, fuck he was gonna cum, he had to stop himself, you hadn’t even done anything, yet you had this hold on him.
you sat back, your legs fully on display, as you took off your shorts, revealing your white matching lace underwear, a wet patch in the middle. “shit.” he whispered, as you rubbed yourself through your underwear. “fuck.” you whimpered.
he seen the tips go up, and the comments telling you to remove your underwear, he didn’t hesitate to type in another $150, hitting send. “o-oh, YJN seems to want it more than any of you tonight.”
you slid your panties down your leg, spreading your legs, your wet cunt on display. “i’m so wet right now.” you moaned, rubbing your folds slowly. “f-feels so good.”
jeongin began to move his hand up and down his cock, moving slowly with you. “fu-fuck please speed up.” he groaned to himself, but it seemed like you answered his prayers, your fingers slowly entering your cunt, you moaned.
the noises from your pussy filling up his earbuds, as you sped up. “fu-fuck my fingers aren’t enough.” you moaned. “i wish it was yours.” he moaned, probably louder than he should’ve, but hearing you say that, in that whiny tone drove him crazy.
“fuck i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered. “m-me too.” he sighed, squeezing his tip. “fuck, please cum with me, cum with me please.” your begging really pushed him over the edge.
“fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, cumming all over your fingers. “shit.” he came right after, cum spurting from his tip, covering his hand and shirt. “oh fuck.”
you were talking to the camera as he came down from your high. “wow you guys tipped a lot tonight.” you giggled, your lips swollen from biting them.
“i should show my face next time?” you read the comments. “i told you guys already, maybe one day, but not right now.”
you interacted with a few more comments before, you slid your robe back on, covering your body. “i have to go now guys.” you pouted. “i know, i wish i could stay with you guys longer, maybe next time.”
you blew a kiss to the camera, before the stream cut off — leaving jeongin to sit with his thoughts, fuck it was his first time watching you, yet you left this impact on him, he had to see more of you.
he closed his laptop, grimacing at the sticky mess he created. “i guess i should get cleaned up.” he got up from his chair.
it hadn’t even hit him that he spent 300 dollars.
— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie
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#kpop x reader#skz fic#skz texts#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz x female reader#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids fic#stray kids texts#yang jeongin fanfic#yang jeongin x reader#yang jeongin fic#jeongin x reader#jeongin imagines#yang jeongin smau#skz smau#stray kids smau
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