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nanaslutt · 6 months

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male squirting.... Satoru being overstimulated to the brink of tears ? 😵‍💫♡

contains: fem reader, kiinnndaaaa sub gojo :3, whiny gojo, hand jobs, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, praise, so much dirty talk, dacraphillia, lots of talk of cum

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You were scrolling through Twitter and came across a video of a man tied to a chair, naked. A pair of hands that were neatly manicured was jerking him off rapidly, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of his cock. It wasn't anything you hadn't seen on twitter before, but twenty seconds later you would see something new. The woman was jerking him after his orgasm, the man whining and crying, his body trying to jerk away from her touch as he was pushed into overstimulation.

He started pleading with her to slow down, saying something felt weird, and that's when it happened, he squirted. It looked so intense, his body trembling and hunching over as he screamed through another forced orgasm. You squeezed your thighs together feeling yourself grow aroused between your legs, a vivid image popping into your head of trying this with Satoru. You replayed the video over a couple times, pretending the faceless pale man in the chair was your boyfriend, even though they shared no resemblance to one another.

You were sure Satoru would be up to trying something like this, the two of you had a very adventurous sex life and were always sharing new ideas with the other on fun things you could do in the bedroom, and this looked very fun. You quickly copied the link and switched to messages, sending it to your boyfriend who was currently at work. You hoped he wouldn't see your message until he had a break, but you had sent him worse things during worse moments, so it would be fine.

Moments after you had sent the video to Satoru, your phone lit up with his name big and bold on the screen, vibrating in your hand. "Satoru? Why are you calling me at work?" You asked, pressing your phone to your ear. "Tell me you want to do that to me, thats why you sent me that right?" He asked rushed, excitement laced in his tone. From the backround noise from Gojo's end of the call of birds chirping and leaves rusting through the trees with no voices besides his to be heard, you guessed he was supervising sparing and had stepped away.

"I dont think I need to ask if you want to try it then~" You laughed into the receiver. Gojo was currently leaning his head back against a building of Jujutsu high, his eyes scrunched shut as he imagined your hands on him, overstimulating him like the woman had done in the video. "Are you kidding? I'm all over that~" He cracked his eyes open, a smile gracing his features. "My pretty girlfriend making me squirt? didn't even know that was possible, I've been missing out." He sighed.

"Wanna give it a go tonight then? Wouldn't want you to miss out any longer." You said teasingly, biting your lip as you pressed your thighs together once more. "Why wait that long? I get off in an hour, I'll see you and your pretty hands then~" Gojo said singsong like into the phone. The two of you said your goodbyes before you ended the call, your fingers taking you back to the video so you could watch it over and over again, picking up some techniques the woman used that you could use on Satoru."

"She used a lot of lube so.. this is gonna get messy." You said, popping open the lid to the lube bottle you kept on your side table. Gojo was laid down on the bed, a towel under his ass as you sat on his thighs, one hand stroking his cute leaking cock, while your other squeezed the plastic bottle, watching the slippery substance drip down onto his cock in thick strands.

Gojo hissed when the cold lubricant came into contact with his dick, keeping his eyes on your slender hands wrapping around him. "If you make me squirt it's gonna get a hell of a lot messier too~" Gojo chimed in, biting his lip when you used one of your hands to wrap around his tip, rolling it around in circular motions in your palm, the other slowly jerking the rest of his massive length. "You will," you assured him, your eyes sliding up to make contact with his.

"Gotta say the safeword If it gets too much, kay Toru?" You asked, making sure he acknowledged your words before things got too intense. "Yeah yeah, F-fuuuck, I won't though~ I can take it." He said confidently, flashing you a cocky smile as you slowly and steadily jerked him off.

"Fuck.." Gojo murmured under his breath, his eyes dropping as he watched you work slowly on his dick, the copious amount of lube you used creating a loud and vulgar slick noise every time your hands moved on him. "It's so wet," Gojo groaned. You could feel his thighs flexing under your ass as he started getting into it. "Yeah? Does it feel good?" You asked, picking up the speed of both your hands a bit. "Yeah.. fuck- feels like I'm inside you." Gojo groaned, his jaw falling open and his breath picking up as he watched you jerk him off, both of your hands now screwing down the length of his cock together, making sure to squeeze at the tip.

"I feel this wet?" You almost laughed, taking note of how the lube coated his balls and was steadily dripping down the insides of his thighs. "You're wetter." He smirked back, his smile quickly fading when you paused one of your hands, opting to rub right under the head of his cock while the other kept jerking him off. You bit your lip, noticing how his eyes were rolling back in his head. "Feel good right here, Toru?" You asked, pressing your thumb into his frenulum with more force, a shaky whimper leaving his lips.

"So fucking good," Satoru praised, pulling his hip between his teeth. You slid the pad of your thumb from his frenulum to the slit on his tip in a smooth rhythm, up and down, up and down, making Satoru groan through clenched teeth. "Oh fuck- keep fucking doing that- sh-it." Gojo was humping his hips into your fist, chasing the stimulation, making your body bounce slightly on top of his thighs. "Satoru quit moving, let me do all the work." You spoke softly, giving his shaft harsh strokes that made him whine.

"Okay- okay, baby- just please don't stop, please." He replied with an aroused smile plastered on his face. You giggled at his desperation, continuing your ministrations on his cock so he didn't grow any needier. "I won't Toru, I got you~" you assured. His head flopped back onto the pillows with a groan when you started stroking him with both hands once again, rotating your hands up and down the length of his cock, making the coil in his tummy rapidly tighten itself up.

"Fuck- fuck me baby fuck-" Satoru whined through his teeth, the words strung together as he tipped his head down, nodding as you jerked his cock quick and rough, making his body wiggle around on the sheets. "You like that? Like when I jerk you off like this?" You cooed, biting your lip as you darted your eyes back and forth between his flushed cock and his pretty face scrunched up in pleasure.

Your words went straight to his cock, if you weren't gripping him so hard you might've been able to feel how hard he twitched in your hands. "God I fucking love it, baby, makin' me feel so g-good." Gojo groaned through his teeth. He really wanted to keep watching you but he physically could not keep his head up anymore. He let his head fall back into the pillows once more, screwing his eyes shut as he let you work him up to his high. "Shit.. I feel it coming pretty girl.." Your boyfriend let you know, his breathing picking up when he felt his balls start to tighten, the warmth in his belly growing warmer and warmer, all telltale signs of his orgasm approaching.

"You got this baby, gonna fuck you through it and you're gonna take what I give you like a good boy, isn't that right?" You spoke sweetly, a teasing tilt to your voice as you hyped him up. He nodded his head against the pillows, keeping his eyes shut, face still screwed in pleasure, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to brace himself for what was to come. "Gonna take it, 'm your good boy, baby~" Satoru responded, trying to smile through his arousal.

You felt his warm cock pulse strongly against your fingers at the same time his breathing stilled, right before the first rope of his cum shot out of his dick and splattered onto his abdomen. Gojo groaned loudly through his teeth, his body jerking inwards at every wave of his orgasm. "Yeah~ Good boy, just like that, keep cumming for me Toru~" You praised, jerking your hands rapidly over his dick, coating your fingers and his cock in his cum, mixing with the lube already smothered on his cock.

"Shit- s-shit- nnghhh-" Gojo groaned through his orgasm, his hips jerking up into your hand as he came. You continued to stroke him through the aftershocks of his high, which was bearable for the first four seconds before he started fighting the pleasure you were giving him. Whines and gasps were being pulled from his lips when you didn't slow down your hands on his cock, keeping up the mean rough pace on his length, simultaneously twisting your palm over his too-sensitive cockhead.

His hips jerked back, into the sheets as he tried to excape your ruthless hands, his chin shot down to his chest as he watched you sit on top of him, lip pulled between your teeth as you tried to work him through his overstimulation. "Ffffffuck!" He finally vocalized, his entire body thrashing and twitching agaisnt the sheets, knees trying to curl upwards, thighs pressing together, anything to excape the overbearing pleasure that wouldn't stop coming.

"You're doing so good baby, so good, don't fight it." You talked him through it, trying to get his overwhelmed brain to slow down. "Oh-ohmygod it's too much-" He cried, his hands heaving the pillows he was gripping next to his head and slapping down on your thighs, digging his nails into the skin there. You swear you saw tears forming in his eyes before he screwed them shut once more, his jaw falling slack as he turned his head back and forth against the pillows, he looked so hot like this.

"You wanna squirt don't you baby? I thought you could take it, must not want it that bad." You teased, trying a different method to instill the confidence in him that he needed in this moment to get through this. "N-no I want it- wanna- wanna squirt-" He whined, his breathing starting to even out, his overstimulation must be fizzling out. "That's right, that's my good boy Toru." You smirked proudly down at him, finally noticing your own arousal that was throbbing between your legs.

"Goddd~ l-love when you call me that~" He giggled, his eyes cracking open as he tilted his head to the side so he could see you, keeping his head pressed into the pillows. You giggled before rubbing your thumb against his frenulum again. His breath hitched, his nails digging into your thigh right before cum shot out of his cock again, weaker this time. The ropes of his seed barely made it to his abdomen, most of it coating your fingers and easing the slide over his cock, making it impossibly more slippery.

"You really like it right here, huh?" You asked, continuing to massage the spot in little circles as you worked his seed out of his shaft. Gojo's body jerked forward, his legs shaking with the intensity of his second orgasm so soon after the first. He stayed silent, his mouth agape as he let you work him through his high. He came down with a gasp, greedily swallowing air into his lungs, panting when he was once again granted the short intermission before his cock was assaulted with your hands overstimulating him.

This time, you did see the tears fall down his cheeks when you didn't stop. The squelches emitting from his cock were sooo loud, so lewd, you guaranteed if you pulled your panties down right now, they would be flooded. The lube and cum created such a mess on your fingers as you rapidly stroked over him, your hand looking like a blur from how fast your pace was. One of Gojo's hands gripped your wrist harshly, almost stopping the movements completely. Good thing you had another hand, you used it to rotate over his tip, slightly punishing him for trying to stop you.

"Baby s-stop- stop I c-cant I c-cant do it-" Gojo cried, fat tears falling over his flushed cheeks, wetting the hair on the side of his face. He didn't say the safeword, but he sounded so desperate so you slowed your hand ever so slightly before you spoke, "This is gonna be the one Toru, just one more and you're gonna squirt for me, promise." You encouraged, nodding at him when he cracked his lids open, teary eyes locking onto yours. "Ohhhhmygod I don't know If- Ugh-" He tried protesting, raking his nails into your thighs.

"You can do it, you're so close baby, so close, it's gonna feel so fucking good." His hand had loosened his grip on your wrist, his head weakly nodding at your words. "I- I think I'm gonna cum already-" His words cut off with a whine, his chest heaving as he took sharp breaths into his lungs, high-pitched wines spilling from his lips as he felt his third orgasm come on. This time it felt a little different, it felt deeper, stronger, he couldn't really explain it, all he could do was take the painful pleasure, letting your hands milk him dry as his tired body tried its best to relax against the sheets.

The towel under his ass was already soaked with cum and lube, and you figured it was about to get a whole lot wetter, you weren't sure why you bothered putting a towel down in the first place.

Gojo started leaking under your thumb, a substance thinner than his cum spurting out of his cock in little amounts. "Baby- baby fuck- It- I cant- I cant-" He wined, losing his composure when he felt it creep over him. This new sensation was taking over his whole body, everything from the tips of his toes to his ears felt flushed, he felt like he was suffocating with how hard it was to take a good breath into his lungs, the feeling making him hyperventilate.

"You can, I got you, baby, I'm right here, let it out, squirt for me Toru~" You encouraged, jerking him off with more vigor, continuing to rub your thumb over his frenulum and flushed tip, steadily leaking the liquid. His thighs rapidly clenched under yours, his chin dropping to his chest to watch his dick, his intense eyes waiting to see something miraculous happen right when his orgasm hit. And fuck did something happen.

A clear liquid sprayed out of his cock, the stream coming out stuttered as you jerked him through it, moaning with him. "Oh my god you're doing it baby, good fucking job, fucking give it to me Toru~" You groaned, slamming your hands down on the length of his cock, fucking his orgasm out of him. He was being so loud, you were lucky your neighbors lived a good distance away, or they might call the cops because it seriously sounded like someone was being tortured, and in a way, he was.

His body shook and trembled, even after you slowed your hands on him. Tears streamed down his bright red face as his eyes fought to stay forward in their sockets, his hands weakly twitching against your thighs, nails digging into the skin. You leaned forward, wiping your hands off on the bed sheets before you took his teary face in your hands, pressing kisses to his open mouth, sweaty forehead, blushed nose, anywhere your lips could touch.

"Good boy Toru, good fucking boy." You giggled, wiping his tear-soaked hair away from his face as his glossy eyes made eye contact with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist. "How did that feel? Was it everything you thought it would be?" You giggled. His body twitched under you, your boyfriend's chest still heaving up and down rapidly. "Better, I love you, l-love you." He stuttered, closing his eyes as you pressed kisses to his tearstain cheeks and eyelids.

"C-couldn't have done that without you." He whispered, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing your weight onto him, his sticky cock sticking to your clothes in the process, but you would worry about that later, Satoru needed your utmost attention to calm down right now. "I love you too, my amazing boy~" You praised, letting him pull you tighter, your head digging into his neck as you pressed little kisses into the skin there.

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usedpidemo · 8 months

Text

Acquainted (Red Velvet Yeri)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.)

You’re just about ready to head off to sleep when you check the group chat. This is your nightly tradition. These strangers, now your closest friends despite the anonymity, are active and in good spirits, as usual. Outside of your weekday 9-to-5, these few moments are the most interesting parts of your day, and you just so happen to join during a particularly lively conversation:

> [22:48:01] yerimiese: (posts a link to a red velvet album article)

> [22:48:14] flutter mane: :sanapog:

> [22:48:23] silksong sulker: k-pop is saved

> [22:48:33] wonyoung cockjuicer: ew red velvet

> [22:48:37] wonyoung cockjuicer: wonyoung can peg me tbh

> [22:48:39] irene’s tokki: Bae J:floshedjiggle::floshedjiggle:hyun

> [22:49:06] milf hunter: :floshed:

> [22:49:11] milf hunter: gape sugalo

So of course, you chime in as well.

> [22:50:12] You: lets get it, new rv fancams

You’re in no mood to chat for longer than five minutes, but before you head offline, you receive a private message from your closest friend:

> yerimiese: so when are you in korea again?

> You: Next week, why?

> yerimiese: nice. why don’t we meet up, that would be dope as fuck

> You: You’re in Korea?

> yerimiese: yeaaaah? why wouldn’t i be?

> You: I thought you’d be doing other schedules abroad

> yerimiese: nah sm definitely won’t fly us out to film an mv. cheap ass bastards ㅋㅋㅋ

Yerimiese then sends you a video link. It’s a Yeri fancam, her weapon of choice. Your conversations began with small, intimate talks about your personal life, soon transpiring into open fapping, degrading, and casual lewdness with each other. Despite the usually depraved nature of your messages, you both continued sharing snippets of your day to day lives. That’s how close you’ve grown as friends.

> You: Well i’m very tired, today was a long day at work, had to work overtime. No time to lewd, sorry

> yerimiese: it's alright. you did well today

Yerimiese sends you a pic this time. It’s an event; the internet can’t load any quicker. You’re hungry, impatient, dying. Whether it’s intentional or not, the photos she sends whenever you’re tired or stressed out are hotter than her usual swimsuit or photoshoot reel. You’ve shared enough about your daily routine to her that a camera crew might as well be recording you.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary; a simple candid pic of herself lying in bed, her face perfectly cropped out of the background, showing nothing but her body on full display in front of the huge mirror, dressed in skimpy black panties and a white shirt that accentuates her shapely breasts. As usual, she’s not wearing a bra; you can clearly see her hard nipples demanding all of your attention.

> yerimiese: no need to send a dick pic tonight if you don’t feel like doing it

You can’t help it. Tired as you are, you feel obligated to send her one. Luckily, every pic she sends is more than enough to make you instantly hard. It feels more guilty not to be turned on, rather.

It’s a mostly quick and painless affair, powerful enough to put you out of commission within minutes. Even though you’re mentally checked out, Yerimiese’s sexy body is too hot not to crank one out. Taking a pic of your erect cock as you pump yourself to her is second nature; sending it on sticky fingers after you’ve spurted all over your phone and blankets is a different story. There’s no other way to put it, she was the perfect reprieve from the day’s exhaustions—a perfect high note to go out on.

> yerimiese: fuck you’re THROBBING THROBBING tonight :ningasm: your dick looks so damn nice. i can taste your cum through the screen

> You: Happy now?

> yerimiese: more than, and then some. I wish you were here right now so you could feel how wet I am

> You: Just wait. I can’t wait to fuck you hard. Goodnight

> yerimiese: goodnight

> yerimiese: :tukkwithkiss:

—————

The next time you’re able to communicate with her, you’re one day away from being in Korea. In that period, you’ve been inactive in the group chat because work. What welcomes you back is a barrage of lewd photos and Yeri fancams.

> yerimiese: see you tomorrow :chuupeek:

It’s an open secret that you know she’s Kim Yerim. Yes, that Kim Yerim of Red Velvet fame. It was a giveaway right from the first explicit photo she sent you; those tits in a tight, petite package couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than hers. That, and the fact that her username is the same as her Instagram handle, and that she has a photo of herself in the group as a display pic. How she would end up stumbling into your private K-pop server objectifying her body and her profession is one of life’s biggest mysteries, yet here she is, giving you a very personal look into her shapely figure, better than any fancam and photoshoot could ever provide. To others, she’s merely a casual acquaintance, but to you, she can freely open up herself.

Mainly because you’re one of three people in the group chat that still cares about Red Velvet.

Her latest sent photo is relatively tame; a tight fitting white silk sundress, and the skirt is virtually nonexistent, her panties practically out in the open. Luckily for you, she seems to be sitting down, but not in her usual living room. The notion that this is what welcomes you to Korea, that you’ll be balls deep inside an idol’s pussy right when you land—it ruins you.

Almost.

An airport guard manages to break your deep train of thought. “Sir! No phones please,” he sternly commands, saving you from total disaster; you’re inches away from walking straight through a metal detector with your phone in hand, the belt around your pants, and some spare coins lying deep in your pocket after you bought some traditionally expensive bottled water. Luckily, no one manages to see the photo—and even if they did, she’s still smart enough to cut out her face, leaving nothing else to your imagination.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about immigration and airport security, it’s that there’s little need for repetition. You go through security four times. At the entrance, after the check-in counter, then within your departure gate, and even before boarding your flight—repetitive. It’s frustrating enough to tell Yerim, to which she responds with more lewd photos of herself.

> yerimiese: yeah ive been there before ㅋㅋㅋ

> yerimiese: how long’s ur flight?

> You: About 13 hours

> yerimiese: cali?

> You: Yes

> yerimiese: kinda random, but seulgi misses los angeles

> You: How come?

> yerimiese: something about an ex-boyfriend that i didn’t know about until the other day ㅋㅋㅋ i bet she’ll be jealous when she hears about you coming over just to clap my cheeks ㅋㅋㅋ she’d wish it was her bf instead of you

> You: does she know about this?

> yerimiese: of course not LOL i bet you’d rather fuck her instead of me, so she’ll never know. smh.

> You: That’s not true ur my RV bias since day one!

> yerimiese: stop lying LMAO i don’t blame you tho seulgi has some really toned legs and a nice slappable ass XD anyway, i’m gonna send you something to pass the time while ur onboard

> You: If it’s a masturbating clip i swear to god

> yerimiese: fuck you got me LOL

> You: Goddamit if anyone finds out on a plane of all places…

> yerimiese: i still can’t get over your clip of you jerking to me. i can taste your dick. you’re depriving me by leaving me out to dry for a week ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’ve been touching yourself to that clip for a week??

> yerimiese: can’t help myself, album prep has been tiring and i haven’t really found any opportunity to relax in the meantime

> You: I’ll be there soon, just wait a bit longer

> yerimiese: can’t trust me with that, i’m very close to making a huge mess of my hotel room ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’re in a hotel?

> yerimiese: just to meet you! I won’t be able to meet you at the airport (duh, idol dating shit), so this is the next best thing. just message me when you’ve landed here, okay?

> You: Sure

—————

It’s ingrained deep within Yerim’s mind. A core memory. If her phone could present count how many times she’s played the clip, it would be over a thousand.

It’s very straightforward. A 45 second clip of someone masturbating between the sheets, pressing their erect cock against their phone with a brightened image of a scantily clad woman on the screen. But it’s not just any woman, it’s her. She’s pleasuring herself to the idea of a man jerking off to her. She’s following his rhythm, timing the pace her fingers rub her clit to the tempo of the man’s cock pumping to her zoomed-in breasts.

And she’s mere minutes removed from a conversation with that exact same person.

Slumped against the hotel room walls, her bliss spirals out of control rapidly. Her legs are instinctively spread wide, juices already leaking through her panties and spilling to the floor; that’s how used they are to Yerim’s impulses to pleasure herself. In those brief moments, she imagines how the next few days play out, skipping past the formalities and pleasantries and going straight to the fucking. She moans and shouts as if that very man’s cock is penetrating her pussy hard at this very moment. Her other hand bashes the wall, tongue screaming streams of profanities, as if he’s manhandling her, using her to his personal delight.

“Fuck! Suck those fucking tits!” she screams, slipping one strap of her sundress down to pinch her own tit, enhancing the illusion. Her phone rings; in her mind it's functionally a vibrator. He’s come fully prepared, and she’s riding high knowing that this person is doing exactly what he said in their private messages from the very start.

Yerim drags her fingers along her clit violently, desperate to reach climax, the realization that this is her third orgasm of the day way beyond her. The evidence can be found everywhere: on the soiled bed sheets and in the smell of the shower; she envisions herself getting railed in those parts of the room, and then some—essentially turning the entire hotel room into the backdrop for all of the things he’d do to her: fingers around her throat, sunk into her ass, until it’s red and hurting, the way she’d quiver and cream all over his throbbing cock. Her neediness has no limits; it even breaks past her very own personal quarters, the loudness of her own self-induced pleasure drawing concern from occupants nearby.

Only after the blissful haze of orgasm does everything fall back in place. That repetitive knock on the door is a huge wake up call. Yerim’s eyes widen.

“Shit.”

She checks her fingers—they’re coated in copious amounts of slick—and after a little further inspection, she realizes the aftermath.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

—————

Being honest about yourself, you couldn’t have asked to feel hornier at a worse time than this. Thirty thousand feet high up in the air, stuck in economy class because you don’t get paid enough to deal with the bullshit back in the office. Using your one of two allowed leaves in the year for a trip to see a girl you’ve mostly known online, and it isn’t even paid. To make things worse, there’s no layovers—just a point-to-point flight from San Francisco to Seoul. 13 hours.

And boy, is the ride absolutely miserable.

By what you might as well call divine intervention, you’re conveniently seated between a nun and a little girl—the two worst kinds of people to be alongside with. No, not because they’re annoying or anything like that; aside from the girl getting up every thirty minutes from her window seat to get something from her parents across the aisle, you’re practically barred access to your glorified archive of lewd Yerim pics. Opening them up with a kid barely in the first grade beside you is openly asking for trouble.

And the few times you get up for a lavatory break, you can’t get yourself going. There’s always someone at the door every five minutes.

Eight hours deep into the flight, you look over your shoulder, catch one of the male flight attendants sneak inside one of the vacant lavatories with a fellow stewardess while everyone’s fast asleep. Fucking sickening. That should be you with Yerim right now.

When you arrive on the other side of the planet, you’ve gotten only a couple hours’ worth of sleep. You almost fumble your passport at immigration, getting them mixed up with a slew of business and membership cards. Then there’s your forgetfulness working against you, remembering you need some kind of pocket Wi-Fi, and now you have to spend a little more to get back online. It’s a mess, and it wasn’t that long since you were in Europe for a seminar, where these things were merely second nature to you.

At least you remembered that VPNs exist. You message Yerim on the taxi ride out of the airport, unsure of where to begin.

> You: Just got out of immigration

> yerimiese: fuckin finally!

> yerimiese: you got a place to stay here?

> You: Not yet

> yerimiese: don’t bother, lemme send you my hotel address, you can stay here

Of course you don’t know Korean, despite the constant back and forth with Yerim for months. Learning’s been on the backend of your itinerary, and has never been your top priority, even now. You show the cab driver the address, who merely looks at you and the phone with a particularly vacant and dumbfounded expression, as if you’re stupid for not planning this out—which, in that regard, he’d be correct.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, only one message stands between you and finally meeting Yerimiese, once and for all.

> yerimiese: I’ll be at the poolside, third floor. can’t wait to meet you :P

And that’s exactly where you end up going. Forget that you’re lugging two whole bags and a traveler’s backpack on your shoulders; you drop them off at the front desk, expecting the staff to have a clue of what’s going on and what’s about to happen.

Stepping out into the poolside, it’s a completely barren sight. It’s three in the afternoon on a Tuesday; most people probably aren’t even booked, let alone in this supposed five-star hotel. You don’t really question whether she’s being serious or not, the evidence was in the previously sent photos; you’re dying to meet her at this point.

And as if perfectly timed for dramatic effect, a woman emerges from beneath the waters, shaking off the wetness from her damp hair.

Yerim casually swims over the deep waters’ edge, without a care in the world, let alone your presence quietly shadowing over the large pool. Even halfway submerged, you can make out the outline of her shapely bust and hourglass figure, tightly hugged by a pink swimsuit. She was sultry and intoxicating to gawk at from candid photos, but seeing Yerimiese herself in the flesh, that’s when the realization hits you: this is happening.

And you can’t move a muscle, let alone react from the actualization that you’re right in front of her. Even as the waves of water splash on your new loafers, you simply observe. It’s creepy, it’s morally dubious, but it’s one in a million. You’re taking in every moment, every second; soak it all in, you’ll never get an experience like this ever again.

You should be friends by now, if your definition of friendship means sharing explicit body photos and exchanging devious intentions about how you’ll fuck each other online or how much cum you’ve given to each other. But when she turns in your direction—catching you casually observing her, your hands tucked away in your coat’s pocket, grinning like a little kid— it’s back to square one.

Like the very first time.

Yerim takes all the time in the world to wade over from the other side of the pool, her smile growing closer as she approaches you. She lifts her eyebrows, expecting you to make a first move, to which you barely open your mouth, and ultimately only a deep breath, a stilted sigh, comes out.

Well, this is awkward.

Yerim giggles. You’ve previously heard her loud moans and cries, but a genuine laugh—this was your first. She never hops on calls in your group chat, most likely because idol shit, as she often refers to her line of work. Her laughter, her energetic expression—it’s as perfect of a translation to real life as it is online, and embodies the idol Yeri you know on screen.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asks, trying—and failing—to suppress more of her laughter.

Your answer is concise, but doesn’t seem quite right. “A while.”

In reality, about five minutes. You probably won’t be there any longer when she props herself out of the water with her strong elbows. Water cascades down her shapely figure, thicker and meatier than it's ever been, more than what the cameras and pictures present. She’s truly the entire package, through and through.

She walks over to her sunlounger, granting you a nice peek of her ass peeking through her skimpy swimsuit before she wraps herself with a towel. Apart from that, your only other notable observation is that she’s soaking wet, even bundled up. That, and also: she’s barefoot. No sign of slippers or any footwear—she willingly walked on what appears to be scorching cobbled floors.

“I would give you a big hug right now, but you know—” she comments, looking down at her drenched self, pool water endlessly dripping down to her feet. Even if she isn’t soaking wet, you’d still be frozen in place, or even worse, some eagle-eyed stranger or Dispatch reporter catch you in secret and you both end up on national news the very next day.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you say, trying to dodge Yerim’s eyes. “I left my stuff at the front desk. I should probably go and grab them.”

“Smart.” Yerim sizes you up, nodding in amazement at how you’ve managed to get yourself past the entrance. “See you upstairs, then? Room 1015.”

—————

The difference between you and Yerim couldn’t be any more obvious.

Granted, you’re fresh off a 13 hour flight, followed by an hour's travel from the airport to a five-star hotel in the heart of Seoul. Yerim had all the time in the world to prepare, and yet when she emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a modest bathrobe and her dark hair bundled up, she’s never looked better.

Facing an idol in such a haggard condition, it gives you an underlying feeling of shame. And if you’re being completely honest, if not for your cock, she’d probably be repulsed and call security on you.

But there's no security in sight. Just you, just yeri, the two of you standing in this room - which is, for the most part, quite nice. Multiple bedrooms, a lovely view of the city beneath you, and all sorts of amenities and features you’ll never get to use—you half expect her members to come in later, but perhaps for your sake, you’re better off with just her and her alone.

When Yerim begins to talk, she rambles. She goes on about the status of the next album, discussions about a possible solo debut, her relationships with her members—conversations about topics that you never really had online. It was mostly dirty talk and lewd captions. At best, you knew each other at a surface level, but here she is, sharing everything from her heart like you’ve been lifelong friends since day one.

You let her. She’s as charismatic as what she portrays on screen, and her sass is no different than the private messages she sends you. There’s not a single dull moment whenever Yerim speaks. Though you know her mostly for her body, her personality is what has you sticking around.

You wonder if she feels the same way about you.

“So, how’d you find out about us?” Yerim asks, after blabbering for a while, and you genuinely believe she’d keep going till nightfall. Close enough. Five minutes away from five in the afternoon, and you’d already spent the last hour and a half listening to a personalized podcast from her. You hope she doesn’t notice the plate of bulgogi on the table now completely empty.

“Well, a friend was a K-pop fan and had an extra ticket when you toured here,” you say, casually, slumped on the sofa. “Forgot how long that was—” you pause, “five years ago?”

“Five years? Five years since we went to America?” Yerim appears flabbergasted, face in utter disbelief at the passage of time. The realization causes her to stand from her chair. You’d be too after listening to her drone on endlessly. “Fuck.”

“SM! Give us a fucking world tour already!” she screams, pretending she’s inside the company building and you’re an executive in the room. Watching her snarkiness come to life never ceases to amuse you. You’ll let her go on for as long as she needs to; she’s entertaining in such a unique and charming way that it disarms you.

“Argh, sorry, you know me.” She suddenly stops, faces you, arms crossed, mocking up a pout. “Look at me suddenly losing my shit for no good reason.”

“Are your members used to this?”

That didn’t come out right.

She bats an eyelid. On her face is a mild, blank look of displeasure. That didn’t come out right.

“Used to what?”

“Well, uh, I—I mean—”

You gulp your throat.

“Stop.”

Then, an air of awkward silence. Her eyes quickly scan you, lazing on the sofa.

“Let’s just get to fucking each other right now.”

—————

It isn’t that you’ve forgotten the one purpose you’re there to begin with, it’s that Yerim is very, very impulsive. One moment, upset at her company for doing the bare minimum for her group and her career, the next she’s using you as an outlet to release her frustrations. It’s a good thing your first impression of her was that she was very busty, because otherwise, the other description you had of her was—simply put—bratty.

You’re on your back, plopped against one of the beds, completely caught off-guard by her show of strength. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, you find Yerim already at the bed’s edge, loosening the belt around her waist, quickly disrobing herself within seconds. It’s nothing new; you’ve seen glimpses of her nude figure in pictures, imagined many scenarios where you’ve got your hands on her, but this—to see her completely bare in the flesh—is new.

This is different.

“Just so you know,” you mutter, frantically panting, your heart jumping, as Yerim undresses in front of you, “I haven’t actually had sex before.”

Just like that, the mood instantly changes. She stops. Abruptly.

“What?”

Her mouth drops—again. Might as well stay agape.

You consider retracting your statement. It was a joke, you’d say, something to get her even more aroused, fired up. The sex would be wilder, hotter than anything your fantasies would conjure. Then again, you wouldn’t be in this exact situation if you weren’t so chronically online, simping over pop idols like a kid about to enter puberty.

“I guess that’s to be expected,” she comments, snarkily, grabbing the edges of your pants, daring to rip them off you. “That’s fucking life, baby!”

If you were in her shoes, obsessively waiting for someone with equally unhinged horniness, expressing precisely how you’d get fucked every single time you’d send a remotely lewd photo, you’d feel just as disappointed. You can tell by her partially scornful expression: she’s been fantasizing this moment as much as you have, too. You can’t blame her, but you kind of expected her to anticipate this; after all, you connected in a private group chat that’s been sexualizing her, of all places.

Surely the signs of virginity were right there.

“At least this is real,” she says, leaning her head forward while cupping your growing bulge poking through your trousers. Your tip, at full mast, mere inches away from her chin, instead of a little phone screen. She’s pushing you around, growing slightly more mischievous and uncontrollable with the prospect of throwing someone like you around instead of the opposite. Something her members may have taught and ingrained in her.

It isn’t quite the picture you expected from all the erotic snapshots and clips she’s been sending you. Every photo and video, designed to rouse the filthiest and wildest of your thoughts, was an act, a ruse to let your guard down, to give you this fixed headcanon that you can toss her around like she’s your personal plaything and object of pleasure. Instead, she’s using you for her own desires and wants.

It’s not that you don’t want her to use you and fuck you like this, it’s how completely in control she is that has you reeling, leaves you in a dizzy spell.

“I was gonna let you use my pussy and fuck me to ruin,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, teasing and mocking. Her hand grips around the denim of your bulge, and it fucking stings. You’re sucking on loose air. “But since we have a virgin over here, I’m gonna do whatever I want.”

The implied connotation is what terrifies you, and no, it isn’t the revelation that Yerim isn’t a virgin—you assumed that much—but the notion that you were gonna have free reign over her cunt that has you contemplating some deep, long forgotten life decisions that set you back years. Their consequences are now starting to show.

She releases her ironclad grip on your pants, frees you of your obstructive clothing, both trousers and boxers down to the floor. Your hard cock springs free, terribly aching, already red and sore from her suffocating clench, and already leaking bursts of precum. The last day and a half hasn’t been kind to your cock.

To add insult to injury, she makes this licking motion with her tongue, aimed at your tip, but relents at the last minute. It leaves your throbbing cock aching harder, without any point of relief. The teasing sight almost renders you unconscious, and sends Yerim into a laughing frenzy.

“Remember when I said I could taste your cock?” she says, chuckling. It’s not playful in the slightest—quite the opposite, in fact. It’s sinister. “I’ll wait a little longer to taste it. Don’t worry.”

Not the most reassuring of words, especially when you’ve got your hands tied—at least, not yet. Actually, you appreciate that she isn’t going to milk your cock dry just yet; when you finally look past the situation at hand, you come to treasure her chest. Her shapely chest, freely bouncing while she bounces her thick body on your lap—keep doing that, you say inside your mind, letting your wandering gaze soak in the unreal scene.

She notices your intrigued eyes, rising and falling in rhythm with her tits. Subtlety was never your intention, and she probably knows from experience, as she says she does. Fixated attention is how she gets herself off, based on how she seems to respond to the lewd messages you’ve sent her in the past, and it shows when she repeats some choice remarks back to your face:

“I’d kill my boss to fuck those tits right now, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

She grips a hand around your throat, another down to the buttons of your shirt, pulling them apart.

“Let me be your personal titty towel.”

Halfway there.

“I’d suck on your tits first, go down on your delicious pussy, then fuck that wet hole of yours three times straight.”

Just like that, you’re both even. Equal in nakedness.

You’re unsure whether it’s the sight of Yerim asserting her dominance over you, tits all up in your face with a devious smirk as she bares you down to your essentials that’s leaving you short on air, or if it’s the hand cautiously coiled around your neck. Either option seems sensible enough. This is how she lives in your head rent free, just being her sassy, sexy self. Even repeating some of the same particularly questionable lewd things you’ve written to her sounds hot with her brazen tone.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she raises an eyebrow, leaning her head close, as if demanding an answer.

Really, there’s no multiple choice here. Of course you nod.

She rolls her hips upward, inches her body across yours little by little, til her dripping pussy completely shadows your view. Her hand grabs the back of your head, meaty thighs pressing between your face. Now you’re truly suffocating. Even with the rather shameful admission, she rolls her crotch on your lips, expecting you to know what to do. No words, just the expectant grind of her crotch on your face, her wet folds opening up for you to take them.

Then, she begins moaning.

Admittedly, the closest you’ve had to trying out oral is using your phone as an outlet for your tongue whenever she sends a boob photo. Thankfully, your inexperience doesn’t show when you first dip your tongue inside her folds, getting your first taste of pussy. Saltier than you expected, but fuck, you’d be lying if you think it wasn’t completely intoxicating—everything you hoped for, and more.

It incites a few expressive reactions from Yerim—some loud, others quieter—with the end result usually a sharper, deeper grind of her waist on your face, splaying her cunt for you to devour. You’ve got one hand pressed on her ass, holding her plump flesh down while the other is at her mercy, pulled by hers, forced to squeeze her breast. You won’t complain. Not when her cries of pleasure motivate you to push yourself harder.

You repeat this addictive cycle, stretch moments into minutes, minutes into hours. Even when you’ve drained her completely, you’ll still be craving for more of her; that’s how hungry she’s made you. Your tongue meets her clit, and it draws out this especially sharp whine that she’s never hit once. Not on a track. Not anywhere. She swears up a storm, juxtaposed between soft, gentle pleas of “yes, more, and you’re so good.”

In return, you take more of her, soak yourself in the continuous downpour of her slick juices freely flowing all over your mouth and tongue. As her pleasure escalates, her fingers tighten their grasp on your head, grab your tousled hair. You add soft, intimate kisses between streaks of licking her folds, and they send the young idol writhing, shaking atop you. Her words have been reduced to nothing but short, needy bursts of “please.” Even in this uncontrollable state, she gyrates her hips around you, rhythm steady, but more determined than ever to let herself go.

By the way her pussy throbs, you’re certain she’s a few critical points away from climax. It doesn’t change your plans, not one bit. You continue to lap at her sensitive folds, bask in her intoxicating heat, purposefully teasing her clit. She won’t demand that you end her —not this quickly, not when you’ve magically learned the art of giving oral to a woman under short notice.

You slowly work her through it. Your tongue dives into her slick entrance, deeper than it's ever been so far. The overpowering sensations send ripples that reach even the foundations of the bed, unlike anything it’s ever felt. Even in the wild throes of bodily pleasure, Yerim has enough willpower to stay in character, delivering a demand in her usual playful, fast talking tone. “Please do it! I’m going to cum!”

You contemplate the thought, completely drunk in her divine taste yourself, but you oblige.

Your tongue sticks to her bud, and it causes this instantaneous, elaborate chain reaction. Yerim cries a sharp cry, waves of orgasm washing down all over her body. She stops in her tracks, completely rigid, mouth wide open, and this torrential gush of slick and orgasm swamps you, drowning you so deep that it's nearly fatal. Her thighs involuntarily clench tighter, too, and you’re temporarily trapped in your own pocket dimension, impossible to clean with all the cum left behind, especially on the sheets.

The most surprising observation from her orgasm is how suddenly calm it becomes. Only the sound of your tongue licking her clean can be heard, and it’s nothing but a gentle rustle. She hangs her head up, face completely flushed, catching needed oxygen in her lungs, letting the aftermath of her climax pass over.

While her breath normalizes, she lifts herself up, moves to the side of the bed. In her wake, she’s left behind a drenched lake of slick around your face, leaking down to the muddled sheets beneath you.

“Well,” she says, panting and pausing for air. “There goes the other bed.”

It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out what she meant. Even when you’re still mindlessly occupied by the sticky residue around your lips. You let out this muffled exhale, designed to be a laugh, but it backfires in your face. Amused, she giggles on your behalf.

“Not bad.” Yerim smiles at you. Charming and cute, a contrast to what had just transpired. “I thought you said you never had sex?”

It takes you a moment before you answer back, “I haven’t. You just taste really good.”

“You still have some left on the edges of your face,” she comments, her eyes mesmerized by how much she’s cum all over you. “Let me help you clean that up.”

And she helps, but not in a conventional way. She lifts you from the bed by your torso, then submerges you again, this time at the mercy of her bosom. You’ve got your arms wrapped around her waist while you’re kissing and sucking on her Yerim’s tits, not exactly tidying up, but creating a larger mess that no amount of tongue cleaning can resolve.

In the meantime, she whispers in your ear some of your more—questionable—comments:

“They need to give her a solo debut with a very sexy concept and trust me, I’ll be the guy who breaks the world record for jerking off if they do that.”

“It must feel heavy to carry them all the time. Let me lend a hand to you.”

“The only thought I had inside my mind when I saw her is every member would milk her 3x a day so that they don’t have to go outside and buy milk to eat cereal to the point they would just drink it from the source.”

You stop. You give her this strange, confused look. Even you couldn’t believe you said that.

“Did I actually say that?”

“Yes!” she replies, quick and straightforward, unable to hide her enthusiasm, while brushing your hair. “Not gonna lie, that sent me to the floor. I was laughing so hard, Irene ran in to check up on me!”

To make things worse, she flashes this wide, toothy grin that makes you regret your life choices.

“God. I don’t wanna drink anymore.”

“Hey, if there’s any consolation, you wouldn’t be sucking on my tits and eating me out now if you never made that comment,” she says, caressing your chin and giving you a peck on the lips. As if it’s still not one of the most out of pocket comments you’ve ever made about anyone, let alone a celebrity—and you weren’t fully yourself.

“Relax. Don’t think about it too much.” Yerim pushes you back down to the bed, crawls atop you, meeting your lips again for an intimate kiss. Your hard cock, which has been left unattended for quite a while, captures your attention—and especially hers. “Lean back for me, will you?”

You comply. Involuntarily, your legs straighten, but Yerim pushes them apart, places herself at center view, seemingly ready to take you in her mouth. It makes sense; a woman with a mouth that runs like hers probably only stops when there’s cock stuffed inside them. The theory proves to be plausible when she gives your sensitive tip a delicate, yet dangerous lick, her eyes glinting at you with renewed vigor and lust.

“I told you I’d have a taste of that cock,” she says, half smug, half seductive, gloating with her brows. Your tenseness slightly recedes—until you realize your cock’s moving past her lips, in the direction of the space between her cleavage. “I didn’t say I wanted to suck on it.”

And she was right—not once has she ever expressed her desire to choke, gag, deepthroat on it.

You grit your teeth, watching your cock disappear between her shapely tits, with Yerim personally making sure you comfortably fit like a glove. You fold. It’s snug. Hot. Breathtaking.

“Fuck, Yeri,” you mutter, closing your eyes as her inviting warmth leaves you weak in the knees, trembling. You don’t realize you’ve used her stage name over her real name. “God—”

“Does this feel like everything you wanted?” she asks, tone sultry and triumphant. A little slide up sends you into a frenzy.

You nod—even though there’s no other available options. The erotic image in front of you is permanently seared into your head: Kim Yerim, popular idol and to an extend, your ‘friend with benefits,’ grinning like a maniac, slowly fucking your cock between her tits, coated with your saliva, sweat, and copious amounts of precum. To think your little crude messages on a random forum would have such long term and drastic consequences such as this.

Not that you’d want to make sense of it all, especially when she gets into a rhythm. Sliding her breasts up and down, she’s delicate, intentional, and masochistic; you’re on the receiving end of how she felt when you were slowly eating her out. She’s dangerous, teetering between the line where your cock can be safe between her bosom and where she can break you in half. You’re already falling apart—and fast.

“Holy shit, Yerim. Fuck.”

Each word you deliver is long and drawn out, especially the profanities. Heavenly music to her ears. She’s out of reach where you can pull by her hair, so you settle for the sheets instead. Your gaze wanders, travels everywhere but in her direction, because you don’t need to see the tortuous scene happening between your legs. Looking at the descending sun, this is probably the last time you’ll see the sun set in your life.

Her eyes challenge you to look at anywhere from her. Panting frantically, you find yourself at the mercy of Yerim’s whims, your cock fading and swelling into view, sticky and wet, gushing cum all over her tits. The sight drives you further mad, has you making sounds that have never been recorded—ever. She takes you in, delights in your suffering, eager for you to say the magic words.

“Ready to cum? I know you want to cum.”

Even under duress, you’re not ready to fold just yet. There’s a little stubbornness inside you fighting back, pulling all the stops to keep you from surrendering to Yerim’s demands. You close your eyes, grip on the sheets even tighter, control your breathing, but it’s too little too late. You can only do so much with two hands.

“Cum for me.”

You hold onto a particularly deep breath, desperate to cling to whatever dying vestiges of control there is left, but your fate has already been sealed from the moment you’ve allowed your cock to enter her chest.

“Yerim, I—”

The exhale you release is the most relieving and satisfying. With it, comes out a rope of thick, creamy cum splashed all over her neck and chest. The aching, violent sensation doesn’t stop; more seed spills between the warmth of her cleavage. In one fell swoop, you feel all of your energy sapped from you, leaving you completely weak and powerless.

In the gap between your climax and post-orgasm haze, you wonder if she’ll take some of your cum in her mouth, with the way she looks at your cock as it throbs beneath her chin. No. She lets it drip down her perfect naked body with a sticky white sheen that glows under the natural light piercing through the hotel’s window.

“Just like that, hm,” she comments, casually flicking the last of your withering orgasm and cum with her wrist. She lathers the slick on her fingers on her shoulder, then places some into her mouth for a taste.

After you regain a semblance of normalcy—after Yerim’s finished entertaining herself with your cum, staring at her coated body and fingers with curious interest—she rests her elbows on your knees, in the process of relearning how to bend. You sink back against the headrest, watch as the fading sun glimmers on an idol like her, destined to shine for every occasion possible—on the stage and under the afterglow of sex. She smiles, bright and wide, taking you in, as you are.

There’s something brewing, especially in the tender few minutes that follow. Something special, something more than just a spark.

“So—” Yerim runs a sticky finger on your knee, dangerously close to stirring up your cock again. “You wanna try anal with me next?”

You pause. Widening your eyes, staring back with a look of disbelief. Just when you’re about to open your mouth to reply, she adds:

“Kidding. You do know that you’re gonna have to delete those tweets and comments, right? If they find out you’re here, you’re fucked. And I mean, a thousand times worse than now.”

—————

(A/N: This was an absolute joy to write. The nature of the request meant I could go very meta with it. About time we get a proper Red Velvet full album, so perfect timing! If you're able to figure out some of the references and easter eggs, then you, my friend, are too engrossed in the Tumblr K-pop male reader smut lore. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #yeri #red velvet

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Whisked Away 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Delaney wishes you good luck as you go. Your heart is fluttery with nerves. It’s been a while since you actually had an interview. These days, most send you a link where you record yourself answering generalised questions. You never do well at those. In fact, you’d only ever had one job.

You worked at a cafe in high school and after you went and got your culinary schooling done, you were promoted. It held you through the first few years of your twenties until Delaney got sick and you had to move to the city for her treatment. Your squirreled away savings got you the apartment and her stipend helped, but you’re running dry on credit.

You need this. Desperately. But you can’t show that if you want it. You have to play it cool. Be a professional.

You catch a streetcar down to the main row and check your phone. You’re well ahead of time. Good. You’ve never been to this particular place. You don’t go out much if it isn’t to the grocery store or the pharmacy. Delaney stopped wanting to go outside a while back. You try to encourage her but you can tell it only makes her feel worse.

You follow the map directions on the app and stop before the cafe windows. They’re slightly tinted with curling golden calligraphy painted across them; Golden Crust. The facade is brown and yellow brick and there are flower boxes just below the windows. Behind the glass, loaves of bread lines a shelf, on display to tempt passerbys.

The door is wide and thick and painted red. You push inside and pause to look around. The long counter is made of dark wood with clear glass cases on top containing dozens of colourful and sugary desserts. Behind the counter, the walls are lined with shelves; some ingredients, some with unfolded boxes, and more bread and packaged biscuits to go. It’s all finely organized.

Lights hang above with brass shades, lending a low hue to the shop. Several customers wait in queue as two employees work tills at opposite ends of the counter. You don’t know whether you should join the wait or go ahead and let them know that you’re there to see Thor for an interview. That was his name, right?

You look at your phone again. You have time. You wouldn’t want to be rude. You adjust your bag and stand at the end of the line. The women ahead of you marvel at the pristine mini white chocolate cakes with dark candied cherries on top as another whispers about cheesecake being devilish. Your own eyes wander gluttonously to the assortment.

You peel away your gaze and look down at yourself. You put together the best you could; a striped blouse, navy blue on white, and a pair of straight-legged pants. They’re a bit outdated but professional at a glance. You hope no one notices the scuff on your right toe.

You get to the front of the line and step up. The young girl behind the till asks what you’d like. You give an apologetic smile, “um, actually, I’ve got an interview.”

“Ah, yes, another one for Thor,” she chimes, “well, you just come with me.”

She’s young. Still a teenager. Her and the other cashier look to be barely graduated if that.

She walks toward the end of the counter and she beckons you over, “I’m Thrud,” she pulls back the short little door for you to step through, “that’s Nari,” she gestures to the dark-haired worker at the other till. He’s too busy taking orders to notice.

You introduce yourself as she takes you around to a doorway, “I think he’s just doing these in the kitchen. Last one ended early so...” she talks brightly as she bounds ahead of you like a happy puppy, “dad?” She calls as she enters the large kitchen. “Dad? I’ve got the next appointment.”

Your anxiety spikes. You’re not the first or the last. The competition deflates your hopes even further.

“Eh?” A deep grunt comes as head pops up from the other side of the large marble island. The man is so large his head hits one of the pans dangling from the ceiling rack. He rubs his brow and hisses, “sorry, I was just looking for my pen.”

Thrud laughs as she crosses her arms. You notice the golden pen tucked behind his ear. She raises a hand, keeping her other arm folded, as she taps her temple. His brows arch and he feels around his wave locks and fishes out the pen.

“Right,” he gives a sheepish look and wiggles it in triumph.

“Anyhoo,” Thrud trills, “this is her.”

“Thank you, Thrud,” he drones back.

“Mhmm,” she turns and smiles at you again before she goes.

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure how to begin, “er,” you introduce yourself, once more “I have a resume on hand--”

“No need,” he waves you off, “come, I try to keep these things straight to the point.”

You near him and rest your hand on your bag, chewing your lip.

“Wash your hands,” he directs you towards the sink, “you may put your things there.” He points to the empty counter on the other side of the deep metal sink. You put your bag there and scour your hands deliberately, taking your time as you scrub nails, knuckles, palms, every bit. You dry off on the towel he offers as you face him.

“Here,” he gives you and apron, “would want you to make a mess.

You tie on the apron as he turns and grabs a tray. There are half a dozen cookies on the sheet, some empty piping bags, nozzles, a bowl of icing and small tubes of food dye. You look between him and the cookies.

“You may choose the design. You will decorate and I will ask questions, does that work for you?”

“Um, sure,” you answer. It’s unexpected. “All six?”

“All six,” he confirms and crosses his arms, making himself even broader. He is not only tall, but wide, and his apron does little to conceal his indulgence in sweets that gathers around his middle.

“Okay,” you accept the challenge meekly.

You step up to the marble island and take a moment. You twiddle your fingers nervously as you think. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to go to simple.

“Take your time, I’ll ask some questions and you can begin whenever you’re ready,” he assures, “so, you’re availability, it is flexibly? Our open ours are eight to six, but you are available on weekends?”

“Yes,” you say as you set an idea in your head and read for the icing. You stir it with the wooden spoon, testing its consistency. “I have open availability most days.”

“Most days?” He echoes.

“Um, yes, I may have an appointment now and again.”

“Oh, appointment?”

“For my sister,” you explain, “but it wouldn’t get in the way, I'm sure.”

You cringe. You’re already making yourself feel bad.

“And so, you’ve had one previous role, what was included in that?” he asks.

Only one... that can’t be good on paper.

“I worked at a cafe. I was a barista for the first two years, then I was promoted to baker, and ended as assistant manager at the branch,” you explain as you fill one of the piping pages and fit the appropriate tip, “but I completed by culinary diploma while I was there.”

“And after? What did you do? I see you’ve been out of work.”

You’re quite as you lean over the cookies and start on the first one. Your idea is simple in premise but not in execution. Delaney loves to do cross-stitches, so that’s what you’ll do. First, the white grid and the lacing along the edges, then you’ll fill in the squares with all different colours to make the illusion of stitches.

“I’ve been a caretaker to my sister,” you say quietly, “we only just moved here last year so I haven’t found much.”

“And you would be able to work fulltime?” He asks.

“Yes, she’s... she’s doing better now. I can do it,” you assure him as you keep your eyes on your precise lines.

He’s quiet. You’re sweating. You just concentrate on the work. Maybe your answers aren’t the best but you hope your work is. You finish the crosshatching and look up. You find him watching your hands intently. As you pause, his blue eyes meet yours. He gives a smile.

“Ha,” he scoffs, “my hands are too big.” He shows his thick fingers, “I can’t quiet get my lines that tight.”

You nod and bow your head again. You’re not even done the first cookie. You have six to prove yourself. Six cookies to seal your fate.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #sweet and spicy #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #whisked away

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chogiwapadada · 2 years

Text

Seeing Red

header edited by me do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; lee jihoon (woozi) x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni), honestly it's filth

warnings; cam boy!woozi, sugar baby dynamics, dom dynamics, masturbation (m & f), guided masturbation, degradation, praise, use of toys, marking, unprotected sex, sex on camera, pet names, and light spanking.

word count; 8.1k and some change

svthub masterlist

part 2

a/n; will be linked to the seventeen peachybun-bun master list. hope you enjoy this and make sure you read and leave love on the other fics by the amazing writers part of this collab. huge thank you to @sapphichui for putting all the together and @bisexualgyu for their hard work with graphics. also a big thank you to @librarian-stacks and @onlychans for proofreading this beast

[sugarwoo$i online]

Freshly manicured nails tap lightly on keys as you try to steady your breath listening to him talk. He is in such a mood tonight. You had been watching sugarwoo$i for months, almost daily at this point, but each time felt exciting, and each time you got bolder with your tips and comments.

Woozi groans as his hand moves over the bulge in his undone jeans. He wanted to take his cock out and give himself some relief, but none of the viewers deserved to see him yet. He had made that very clear with his words and actions. His free hand ran through his hair as he bit at his bottom lip, leaning his head back in the old office chair, before laughing as he listened to the tips overshadowing the sound of his music playing in the background.

“Greedy tonight.”

His eyes scan over the tips, seeing a large one from domino$ugar, a smirk playing on his features as he lifts his hips and pushes his jeans down to his hips, before kicking them the rest of the way off. “Thank you, Domino. You are especially generous tonight. Are you that needy, baby?”

You gasp as he uses the name he started calling you out of habit to shorten your username. Your lips press together at the same time as your thighs as his eyes meet the camera, sending chills down your body. Warmth spreads through your stomach, down until you feel your panties beginning to get sticky with arousal.

domino$ugar has tipped $1000

cutie4woo: That’s a lot of money Domino…

Woozi laughs at your second tip, raising a brow as he slides his hand into his tight briefs, running his thumb over his head and making himself shiver with anticipation. “You’re right, it is. I expect an answer, Domino. I was speaking to you. Don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to cut off the video because you can’t be a good girl and answer when you are spoken to.”

Your legs spread as you shift in your bed, running your fingers along your panties and closing your eyes for a moment as he chastises you for not listening to him, before you finally type into the chat.

domino$ugar: I always am, for you.

“Of course you are. My little needy girl. Are you touching yourself? You better be. I know your little fingers aren’t nearly enough, but they will have to do for tonight.”

You watch as the chat springs to life as other subscribers chime in to tell him how well they are listening to his commands and how wet they are for him. Your eyes flick from the chat to his face as he scoffs into a laugh as he obviously reads the chat.

He nods, finally moving his hips once again, sliding his briefs down and kicking them off to expose his hard cock. Tilting his head, Woozi lets his shaft rest against his stomach as he leans back, just watching the camera as if you are in the room and he is watching your fingers slide your panties to the side. Your fingers circle your clit, making you gasp out his name, which he seems to respond to, making you furrow your brows.

“Such a pretty little slut for me. So nice and wet. Getting yourself ready for my cock?” His voice raises into a question, and you nod as you close your eyes, listening to the sound of his voice as he groans and wraps his hand around his length, pumping himself slowly. “Going to let me have you any way I want?”

Your eyes open to the sounds of tips. You bite at your frown, before reaching up with your free hand to send in another, not wanting to possibly be beaten out, though you knew there is no way that could happen.

domino$ugar has tipped $500

“Domino, baby. Thank you, why don’t you buy a private show at this point.” He laughs, but you raise a brow, having not considered that possibility. The idea is intriguing, but it is also so personal. But then again, isn’t that what you wanted? Woozi all to yourself?

Your finger moves the pointer over the screen as your other finger circles your clit, making your thighs tremble when you press the confirm button. The sound triggers, and Woozi laughs, leaning forward slightly and shaking his head. “You really are good at listening to me, aren’t you?”

The screen counts down as the chat moves quickly in whines when it is announced that Woozi is entering a private show. “Don’t whine. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Woozi blows a kiss to the camera one last time, before for most the screen goes to a stream end - user in a private show screen, marking the end of his show for the night.

Your screen only goes to black for a moment, before Woozi is back with a smirk and a raised brow, leaning forward towards the camera. “Hey, baby. Do you want to type, or do you want to let me hear that pretty little voice?”

Your stomach flips as you sit up in bed, your hand sliding from between your legs as you realize he is speaking only to you. An invite for you to share your voice pops up as an option on your screen. A trembling hand lingers over the button for a moment, before you accept the invitation, realizing it might be nice to not have to type the entire time as you watch him, no matter how awkward it might end up being.

Woozi watches as your picture lights up, signaling your voice is connected and waits until he hears a small “Hi.” His smirk morphs into a bit more of a smile, before he bites his bottom lip and furrows his brows, tilting his head. “Are you being shy with me, Domino? After all you’ve said to me in chat? That isn’t the dirty girl I know. This is your show, baby, but I won’t settle for that shit.”

Your eyes widen as you clear your throat, and you speak up some, shifting on your bed and bringing your knees to your chest. “I’m…I’m not shy. I just didn’t expect to be able to speak to you directly.”

Your eyes watch as Woozi laughs and nods, picking up his tripod and moving towards a bed, giving you more of a view of his room. It was clear he had spent his money in an interesting way. A few instruments are strategically in a corner and are obviously where he had invested his money, whereas the rest of his furniture is almost tragic in your eyes.

Clearly having no shame in his body, Woozi sets up the camera facing his bed, before moving to a drawer and taking out a red toy and showing it to you. “Remember this?”

You bite your lip and nod, before answering verbally. “Yes. I sent that to you. You said you liked red, and I wanted you to have something to play with. I…I wanted to watch you use it.”

Woozi laughs as you stumble over your words and confession as he takes off the end of the red fleshlight, before laying back on his bed that creaks from obvious age and just poor value.

You find yourself unable to keep yourself from speaking as you watch him reach for a bottle of lube, pouring some onto his fingers. “You need a new bed.”

Another laugh falls from his lips as he looks at the camera and shakes his head. “That’s what you want to talk about? I’m about to fuck the toy you bought for me, as if it were you, and you want to talk about my old ass bed?”

You feel your cheeks flush as you take a breath. “I mean...no, but yes. I…want you to be comfortable. I just like to see you taken care of.”

Your voice falls off into a whisper at the end, making Woozi smirk as he strokes himself slowly and looks into the camera, before putting some lube onto the toy. “You want to take care of me, Domino?”

You let out a shaky audible breath instantly turned on by his words. Woozi furrows his brows at the sound of your breath, before sliding the head of his cock into the toy with a low groan. “Yes, I do...oh my god. You look so good, Woozi.”

He bites his lips together and looks down at his cock moving into the toy, before glancing back to the camera. “Yeah? You have your fingers in your pretty little pussy for me? Fuck, I wish this was your pussy.”

You watch his hips move up to meet the toy in his hand as your legs spread once again. Your fingers slide around your panties, two fingers press at your wet entrance as you gasp when you feel the stretch when you push them in.

“I heard that. Put the computer closer so I can listen to your fingers.”

Nodding, you do as he says, sliding down in the bed and spreading your legs further apart so you can put the laptop between your legs, letting him hear the wet sounds as your fingers enter your wet core over and over.

“Fuck that’s it. Faster. I want you to cum for me, Domino, like the dirty girl you are.”

You whine as you curl your fingers up into yourself to find your spot, causing Woozi to fuck up harder into the toy in response. “Woozi, please….”

Glancing at the camera, sweat on his brows, he grins and raises a brow. “Please what, baby? What do you want? Tell me.”

Your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting closer, your eyes fixed on him as you listen to him grunt as his hips meet his hand. “I wish you could fuck me. I need you so bad. I want you so much.”

He laughs and leans his head back, his abs tightening as he groans out “Domino…” making you close your eyes, “Call me Y/N.”

Woozi smirks and nods, “Y/N, cum for me. Fuck yourself faster. I know you can. Put your thumb on your clit. I want you to scream my name.”

Hearing him say your name almost pushes you over the edge as you follow his commands. Your thumb presses over your clit as you rub circles over it. Your fingers moving faster and harder into your pussy, you gasp, before giving him what he wants as you scream out his name as your legs close around your hand when you cum.

Woozi quickly follows you, hearing the sounds of your orgasm. “Fuck…oh fuck! Y/N…yes, baby.” His eyes close as yours open, letting you look at his fucked out face in awe. You had seen him after a climax many times, but this time seems different. He almost seems like he experienced bliss.

Opening his eyes, Woozi laughs and puts the toy to the side, before reaching for a tissue. He cleans some cum from his fingers and cock, before he looks at the camera shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?” Your voice is shaky as you move to sit up once again.

“You sound like a fucking dream. I wish I could meet you for real.”

Raising a brow, you smile and shrug. “Why can’t we? Are there some camboy rules that say you can’t?

Laughing, Woozi sits up, glancing at the time seeing 15 minutes left for the private show. “I mean, no, but I am not made of money. I can’t just go to random places to meet people.”

You smile and bite your lip and shrug. “Where do you live? I promise I’m not a crazy person. I don’t want to kill you.”

Sliding on a pair of shorts, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs, contemplating, before nodding. “I’m in California, just outside of LA. We are almost out of time.”

You perk up at his state and smile brighter. “I’m also in California. Well, one of the houses is. Give me your number, and I’ll send you some details. I will also make it worth your time.”

Woozi shakes his head, mouthing “one of the houses”, before picking up his phone. “You are loaded, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn as you laugh and pick up your own phone, waiting for him to tell you his information as he furrows his brows. “I have money, yes. As I said, I want to take care of you. Is that bad?”

Glancing at the time, seeing a 3-minute warning, Woozi considers your offer before sitting on his bed hard in front of the camera. “Give me your number instead. Let me think it over. I’ll text you once I decide. Is that fair, Y/N?”

Your name on his lips in a casual setting sends a chill down your spine, making you whisper yes. You tell him your number, watching him type it into his phone and hitting save as the screen flashes a warning that the show is about to end. Meeting the camera with his eyes one last time, Woozi smirks and rubs the back of his neck. “This was fun, I really will think about it.”

You start to answer when the show ends, leaving you alone in your room. The silence is almost deafening as you lean back on the pillows, sliding your laptop away from you as you hold your phone to your chest, glancing up at your ceiling, wondering if he will text.

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

The sound of a text makes you furrow your brows as you sit on your sofa. Your attention is split between your phone and the television. You had been 3 episodes into a new show, a bottle of wine gone, certain you wouldn’t hear from Woozi, when the familiar ding on a new text went off.

Unknown: Hey it’s Woozi. I’ve thought about your offer. It’s so tempting I can’t turn it down. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do something like this.

Sitting up quickly, you knock off a bowl of popcorn, the show long forgotten as you quickly save his number to your phone, before responding to him with shaky hands.

Y/N: I don’t feel like I have to do anything. I want to do it. I was serious about wanting to take care of you. We don’t even have to do anything. I would just like to meet and maybe you could do a show…and I could watch? Like I said I’ll make it worth your time.

Woozi leans back in his office chair as he reads your text, raising a brow at your message. It was more and more tempting. He was struggling when it came to money, that was half the reason he had started the cam show in the first place. The fact that he enjoyed it so much just happened to become an added benefit.

Woozi: Alright. When and where?

You bite your lip and kick your legs out of excitement, before taking a breath to steady yourself as you think about his question before responding.

Y/N: Saturday, 6 pm. If you send me your address I can have a car pick you up. Doesn’t matter where. I’ll find a nice place near you for us.

“I feel a bit like a prostitute but whatever…” Woozi mutters to himself as he scratches the back of his head, before shrugging and letting his thumbs run over the keyboard. If things got weird, he would let his friends know where he was, and he would make his way out. If he got lucky, you were hot and this would be a good time.

Woozi: [Address attached] Seems like a lot just for a little meeting with me. Are you trying to be my sugar mama Domino? ;)

Cheeks burning at the text, you rub your lips together and take a bit longer than intended to respond, making Woozi a bit nervous as you see bubbles pop up, marking he is writing another text.

Woozi: It was a joke.

Y/N: I’d like to be, but please when it’s not during the show call me Y/N.

The two messages send and are seen at the same time, making both of you take a moment before either of you respond.

Woozi: Are you serious?

Y/N: Yes. I wasn’t kidding when I said I like to see you taken care of. Is that bad? It makes me happy.

Woozi raises a brow as he glances at a stack of bills on his desk that even the larger tips weren’t covering before looking back at his phone.

Woozi: What would it mean? Like would you want me to stop doing the show and just be like yours or something? I don’t know if I want that.

You furrow your brows at his message, almost as if you can feel his hesitation. Shaking your head, you adjust yourself on the couch and pull your legs under you as you bite at your lips.

Y/N: Not at all. I love the shows. They are hot. I like watching people go crazy over you. Why would I take away another source of your money? That's selfish, I’m not selfish Woozi. I literally said I want to take care of you. It’s nothing weird really…we can talk more about it Saturday. The car will pick you up.

Woozi thinks about how to respond to the message when you send a kissy emoji, making him scoff into a smirk, before he just reacts to your message with a thumbs up to let you know he read it.

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

Standing in front of the mirror, Woozi pulls at the tight button up, furrowing his brows. It isn’t that he isn’t sure that he looks good. He knows he looks attractive. He has that confidence. He has been told enough times, especially by you, that he is handsome, but knowing you have so much money and what you want with him made him suddenly self-conscious. Maybe the clothes weren’t nice enough. What if you changed your mind?

Glancing at the clock, he puffs out his cheeks before grabbing his phone, shoving it into his pocket and doing the same with his wallet and keys. Throwing a bag with his show necessities over his shoulder, Woozi sighs and checks the mirror one last time, before heading out of his apartment and down into the street. He is surprised to see a black SUV waiting on the street with a man in a suit standing next to the back door.

“Uh hi? Is this for me?”

With a nod, the man opens the door, and Woozi scoffs with a shrug, before getting into the back seat. He instantly takes his phone out to text a couple of his friends, telling them about the ride he is now taking to some potentially fancy place.

Hosh: What if she’s a babe?

Cheol: Idk why you decided to do this Jihoon. This seems reckless.

Mingyu: You can finally pay me back the $50 bucks you owe me?

Woozi scowls at the last text and decides to delete it, before leaning his head back and glancing out the window as the man drives him into the city, towards a part he had rarely visited just due to the fact he knew he couldn’t afford half the stores in the area.

“Hey, can you tell me the name of the place we are going to?”

The man driving met Woozi’s eyes in the rearview mirror and sighs before speaking in a flat tone, “The Roosevelt. Ms. Y/L/N has the penthouse.”

Woozi thought he would choke on his own spit before he swallowed it down. The driver scowls at him, before reaching back to pull open a section in the console to show drinks.

Nodding in thanks, Woozi grabs a bottle of water and twists the top open, before downing half the bottle to calm himself down, having not expected some place like The Roosevelt and the penthouse. He knows you had said some place nice, but not something that he couldn’t dream of affording.

Picking up his cellphone, he quickly types out his new information to Hoshi and Seungcheol, deciding not to update Mingyu on anything after his last response. Woozi can’t help but smirk at their fast responses and their different opinions.

Cheol: Who the fuck is she? A Kennedy? Jihoon…I know I said I’d come get you if you needed me to but how the hell am I supposed to get you out of The Roosevelt?

Hosh: That is the hottest thing you have ever said to me. Hands down. If you don’t fuck her I will. Tell her if she wants a second sugar baby I am into all kinds of kinky shit.

Woozi glances up as the car comes to a stop. His eyes look up as he leans towards the window. The sheer size of the hotel makes his eyes widen as he barely registers the door opening as the driver waits for him to get out.

“Your keycard, sir. Ms. Y/L/N is waiting for you. You can let yourself in.”

Grabbing his things, Woozi then looks at the gold card in the man’s hand, before taking it from him as if it were made of glass. He steps out of the vehicle and makes his way through the main doors, going towards the elevator. He can’t stop himself from glancing around in awe at the opulence of the entire decor. How it is almost too much, and yet he finds himself loving every moment of it.

Stepping into the elevator, Woozi slides to the side as he is joined by another couple who give him a side-eye and a scoff with a quick look at his outfit, until he presses the button for the penthouse, only to be met with a prompt for his keycard. They watch him expectantly, almost as if they know he wouldn’t have one because he doesn’t belong here. He can’t help the smug smirk on his lips when their eyes follow the gold card as he slid it through the reader, and the elevator beeps recognizing the card, approving the prompt.

“Which floor are you two going to? I can get it for you.”

The man meets Woozi’s eyes and furrows his brows, before muttering 12th and watching as it is pressed for him.

Woozi leans back against the elevator wall, crossing his arms as he watches the numbers at the top of the door go up only to stop at the 12th. Watching the couple walk off the elevator, Woozi slides to the middle of the doors and smiles sarcastically as the doors begin to close. “Have a great night you two!”

He can’t help but laugh as the man groans loudly when the woman on his arm hits him just as the doors close and the elevator begins to go up once again. His stomach begins to tighten slightly in anticipation. As much fun as this is, he has to admit to himself that he is nervous to meet you, and worried that you’d have the same reaction to him as the couple had given him.

With one last ding, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open to a single door, making Woozi mutter out a wow as he steps into a small hall, noticing it was the only door on the floor. Shaking out his hands, he shrugs his shoulders a few times, before sliding the gold card into the reader, hearing the beep. He pushes the door open, glancing around as he moves into the large foyer area. “Hello?”

You glance up from your spot on the couch. A glass of wine barely touched in your hand as you bounce your leg. You know Woozi has been working his way up for a few minutes, but your anticipation all comes to a head when you hear his voice come from just a room away. Moving to stand, you clear your throat and sit your wine down so you can smooth your dress down, moving around the couch to meet him as he enters the living area.

Woozi is glancing up at the tall ceilings when he moves into the larger room, only glancing down as he hears a smaller “Hello, Woozi.”

A smirk is instantly on his lips as he hears your voice, until he sees you and his breath is taken away, his smooth confident exterior is broken. “Holy shit…uh, Domino? Wait I mean, Y/N? Oh my god, you are…”

Your cheeks burn hot as Woozi’s hands extend out to gesture at you as he almost seems to panic, before moving to sit his bag down with the gold key card. “I don’t have words. Fuck…I don’t know what I imagined, but Jesus christ, you are beautiful. This doesn’t seem fair.”

A scoff falls from your lips as you furrow your brows, moving a bit closer to Woozi as he watches your every move. “What isn’t?”

Woozi gestures around and then to himself. “You and what you want with me. I’m not…you deserve better.”

Shaking your head, you bite your lip and glance at his bag, before looking back at him. “I said what I wanted, Woozi, and I meant it. You are even more gorgeous in person. I’m even more certain.”

He laughs and scratches the back of his head, shaking his head, before sighing as you move in touching distance from him. He wants to reach out and touch your skin. It looks so smooth and almost untouched. He can imagine leaving marks all over you. He wants to hear you scream his name again, maybe even his real name. “You can call me Jihoon…when I’m not on camera. When it’s just, you know us. That’s my real name. Lee Jihoon.”

You take one last step, and Woozi can’t help the groan that falls from his lips as he smells your perfume. You give him a soft glance, so innocent, and yet there is something in your eyes that says you want to be fucked right there and then. “Okay, Jihoon. Should we talk about terms?”

Woozi sighs out a soft breath as you say his name, reaching out to run the back of his index finger along your arm, making you shiver slightly at his touch. “Uh yeah…whatever you want.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, before turning your hand over and offering it to him to see what he would do.

Woozi smirks a bit, raising a brow, before moving his hand over your arm, watching chill bumps spread over your skin. He takes your hand and leads you towards the couch, sitting you down in front of your wine.

“So I don’t know a ton about how this works, but I’d like to give you an…well, we will call it an allowance at the loss of a better word. I’m thinking $10,000 a month? If that seems fair? Like I told you in text, I don’t want you to stop your shows. I enjoy them. I wouldn’t mind being there to watch some of them in person. I don’t expect you to want to sleep with me Jihoon. So if that’s something you thought I wanted, you don’t have to be. That isn’t why I asked for this arrangement. I really do want to take care of you. I just…can’t fight that urge.”

Woozi’s eyes widen at the amount of money, before he bites his lips as he watches you talk, letting his fingers slide around your wrist, his fingers touching as he swallows hard. Did you not want to sleep with him now? Furrowing his brows, he nods and looks away, before laughing a bit and letting go of your wrist. “Okay. So you are just going to give me money for existing?”

You smile into a laugh and nod with a shrug. “Basically, I have enough. Why not spoil you?”

He laughs and leans back on the sofa putting his arm behind you before tapping out a beat onto the fabric in thought. “But you don’t want to sleep with me?”

Your cheeks go hot once again, and you look away as you pick up your wine, taking a sip and making Woozi smile at your reaction.

“Or do you? Are you being shy right now, Y/N? You can tell me.”

You look back over to the man who had been your fantasy for months as you press the wine glass to your lips, before he sits up to take it from you, only to sit it down. “You are either overly shy with me, Y/N, or a dirty little slut. There is no inbetween with you, is there?”

Turning your head, you are stopped as Woozi reaches up to take your chin into his hand, turning your face back to him and making you look at him. “I’ll stop if you want me to, but you act like I don’t want you, or maybe you don’t want me? Why do you watch my shows if you don’t? Cause I’m not going to lie…right now, I want to mark you up and see how good you taste, baby. Earn my keep.”

You scoff and take in a shaky breath. “I just don’t want you to think I’m paying you for sex, Jihoon. That’s not what this was about.”

Woozi laughs and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, glancing at your legs as you rub your thighs together. “You’ve made that clear, and I believe you, but I still think you want me to ravage your little cunt.”

Woozi smirks as he pulls down at your bottom lip, making you gasp when your mouth falls open for him. “I accept your terms only if we explore this. See what happens…because baby, I have to have you. You are just too sweet.”

All you can do is nod as you meet his eyes, watching him nod back to you, before his mouth is on your throat. Your eyes close as you let out a soft moan, making Woozi smirk against your skin as his kisses work up your neck and to your jaw, and finally your lips as he pulls you closer with his free hand by your waist.

“Now you said you wanted to watch me do a show? How bout you be a good girl and get out of this dress while I set up my camera?”

You try to catch your breath as you feel his fingers slide your zipper down your back, before he moves off the couch to grab his bag, taking out a small tripod and camera glancing back at you. “Where is the bedroom, baby girl?”

Gesturing to the right, you lick your lips and move to stand as you shake, making Woozi grin as he leaves you to regain your composure so he can set up for his show.

Finding his way into a large bedroom, Woozi can’t help but laugh to himself at how nice it all is. Sitting the tripod down on a dresser, he moves into the room and runs his hand over the bedding, shivering at how soft the comforter is. He can’t help but cringe at the idea of sleeping on his itchy bedding at home after being spoiled like this.

Shaking his head, Woozi glances around, figuring out the best place for his camera, framing it up the bed. He is unsure where this would all lead, but he wants to leave his options open in case you want to join him.

Glancing up at the sound of your heels, his breath is taken away once again as he sees you in just your red lingerie. Running a hand over his mouth, Woozi can’t help but palm his jeans with his other hand, muttering to himself.

“I...holy shit. Did you wear this just for me? Alright, so I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. How about we use the color system, okay, baby? Red if things are uncomfortable or you don’t want it. Yellow if you want me to slow down or if you want a break. Green if you are good to go. The only thing I want is for you to answer me if I ask for a color. Can you do that for me?”

You watch Woozi move one of the chairs next to his camera that he has set up on an end table at the end of the bed, before he moves to you, putting his hand on your hip and running his thumb along the band of your panties. You nod, and he shakes his head. “I need words, no nodding or shaking your head. I won’t accept that. Verbal consent only. So you answer me when I talk to you.”

Woozi gives you a look, lowering his head as you swallow a breath, before licking your lips. “Yes, I understand.”

Smiling, he bites at his bottom lip, glancing at your lips and tongue, before taking a step back to give you a once over as he shakes his head. “Sit down for me. I’ll tell you what I want you to do. Just like in any other show, only I can watch you this time. You can inspire everyone else with your good behavior.”

Sitting down, you cross your legs as you watch Woozi take a step back, moving to his camera. He takes out his laptop to open the svthub website and makes sure everything is perfect, before he presses the go live button. He smirks when he hears the sound of your phone going off in the next room to signal you got his notification. “My good girl even has her notifications turned on for me?”

You suck on your bottom lip and nod, only to see him raise a brow in warning. “Yes, I do.”

He smiles as you answer him out loud, before sitting down on the end of the bed and glancing at his laptop as comments begin to flood in with tips.

“You’re right, I’m not in my room. I’m somewhere special with a special guest. You are going to be nice to my special guest, aren’t you?”

You watch Woozi smirk as he works a few buttons open on his shirt, making you suck on your bottom lip as he meets your eyes, before looking at the camera for a moment, before reading more comments.

“It’s going to be the same as always…maybe a bit more exciting. We will see how it goes.” You listen to him laugh as he shrugs the tight shirt off his shoulders, exposing his muscles to the light in the room.

You know he is built, but you could never really make out the details with his camera quality. You make a mental note to get him something nicer, so that everyone could understand just how perfect he is.

Shifting in your seat, you draw Woozi’s attention, making him tsk. “Don’t move, baby. Not until I say so.”

You lick your lips and nod, before letting out a meek, “Okay.” Your hands grip the arms of the chair as Woozi tosses his shirt to the floor and leans back, his eyes staying on you for a moment as he almost seems to study you. It seems like only the sounds of tips bring him back to the laptop as he smirks and laughs sucking on his cheek.

“I might. We will see what she wants to do. See how shy she is. If she is a good girl and feels comfortable…”

You furrow your brows curious at what he is talking about, only able to use your imagination as to what the comments are saying.

Woozi’s hands move to his jeans undoing them as his eyes move back to yours as he tilts his head. “What’s that look for? Don’t like not being able to know what I’m talking about? You want to know what I’ve already figured out about you? You want control, hence our little arrangement, and yet you want to be completely out of control. You want someone to control you, don’t you, baby girl? Isn’t that why you like my show?”

Woozi watches your breasts rise and fall quickly as your breath quickens at his questions. He is hitting the nail right on the head, reading you like a book. “Answer me. I won’t ask twice. We talked about this.”

“You are right.”

He makes a sound of acknowledgment as he stands, pushing his jeans past his hips, leaving him in just his briefs. The outline of his hard cock makes your mouth water. Woozi isn’t oblivious to how you are looking at him. Instead, he laughs and turns to the side, running his hand over his bulge, showing the camera with raised brows.

“I think she’s hungry, but she doesn’t deserve anything just yet. Color?”

You are brought back to attention at his question as you meet his eyes when he sits down, his hand lazily running over his shaft through the thin fabric.

“Green…” You press your thighs together, trying your best to give yourself some stimulation, only for his eyes to drop to your lap as he shakes his head.

“I want to see that pretty little pussy. Take off your panties and give them to me, then spread your legs nice and wide. I can’t have you breaking rules and getting off before I say so.”

You whine to Woozi’s words, before moving to slide your shoes off and putting them to the side, so you can easily stand and step out of your panties. You hold them out, but Woozi makes no effort to move from where he is to take them from you.

Glancing towards the camera, you feel your cheeks flush as you move slightly into the frame, keeping your face hidden as you hand them to him. You move back to your chair, sitting down and slowly spreading your legs for him like you were told.

Smirking, Woozi twists your panties around his fingers, before showing them to the camera. “She knows how much I love red, but fuck…” His eyes move back over to you as he seems to eye fuck your glistening folds from where he is sitting. “Seeing that pussy knowing it’s mine…I could lose my shit right now. It is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s yours, Woozi.”

He laughs, biting at his bottom lip with a nod, before putting your panties down on the bed beside him as he leans back on his elbows, watching you. “I want everyone to follow along with our pretty baby tonight. Can you do that for me? Can you all be good little girls tonight?”

You watch as he glances at the laptop, a grin spreading over his face as he nods and tips start pouring in. “They love this. I might never do a show alone again.” His eyes meet yours as your thighs tremble. “She’s suffering, I think she’s starving to be touched. Are you starving?”

He nods and pouts in faux concern before laughing. “All my pretty little sluts are so needy. They are all just like you, baby. I bet they are dripping.” Woozi tilts his head and sucks in a breath as he watches you literally drip onto the cushion under you.

“I can’t wait to taste every last drop of you. Play with your clit, beautiful. I can see you are in pain.”

You lick your lips, before licking your fingertips and doing as you are told, rubbing them around your clit, making yourself jump at the sudden contact. “Woozi...”

He raises a brow and bites his lip in response, before he glances at the laptop and reads the comments. “Louder, baby. They want to hear your pretty little moans. They said you sound sexy. They are right. Put your middle finger inside. I bet that needy little pussy will swallow it right up.”

Woozi leans forward as you follow his instructions, and he watches your middle finger disappear into your core. Your moan fills the room, echoed by his soft groan as he grips at his cock through his underwear. “I was right, but it’s not enough, is it, baby girl?”

You whine out a no as you curl the single finger into your core, trying to get more pleasure, wishing he would just touch you himself.

Woozi moves his hips up, sliding his briefs down and letting his cock spring back up to his stomach as he leans back slightly. Your eyes follow it out of instinct making him smirk.

“Oh no, you don’t get this yet, but you can have another finger. Just one more, that’s a good girl. Such a good listener.”

Watching his hand lazily slide over his cock, you whine out his name once more, before moaning loud enough for the camera, making his brows furrow. “Such a pretty sound. Are you moaning for me too?” His eyes are on the camera as he speaks, before glancing at the laptop and nodding to the comments with approval.

“But you don’t get to cum until I let our baby cum. I think that’s only fair. She’s trying so hard to listen to me. Aren’t you?”

You nod and curl your fingers in deep, moaning out a louder yes, making Woozi fuck up into his hand with a groan. “Shit…that’s my girl. Keep that up, and I’m gonna have to fuck you in front of everyone. Would you like that? You’d get off on it wouldn’t you?”

He smirks at your reaction as your fingers slow down, but your breath quickens. “Color?”

You take a moment as he leans forward with a questioning look on his face, waiting for your answer. “Your back can be to the camera the entire time, and you can say no. I won’t be mad. So tell me your color. I won’t ask again.”

Licking your lips, you look at his hand around his shaft as he runs his thumb over his head, making himself hiss out a soft “shit…” as he waits for you to consider his proposal. Nodding, you slide your fingers from between your legs and take a breath, “Green, yes.”

“That’s my good girl.” Woozi slides back on the bed, bringing the laptop with him, before putting his hand out for you. “Come have a seat, baby girl.”

Your cheeks warm slightly as you move past the camera and crawl over the bed, knowing your ass is exposed to the camera, but the sudden increase in tips makes your confidence soar as Woozi’s hands reach for your face as your legs move on either side of his.

“Look at how well you are taking care of me…now, let me take care of you. You want me to wear a condom?”

His lips meet yours as you shake your head no and your eyes close, one hand sliding along your side to your hip as he moves you over his hips. You moan about being on the pill and trusting him into the kiss, feeling his hand move between your legs, a calloused thumb pressing against your clit in slow circles.

“Okay, baby. You like that?”

Nodding, you whine a yes against his lips, only to lift your hips as you feel him lineup his tip with your entrance and move a hand back to your hip to slowly lower you down. The stretch almost sends you over the edge instantly as you feel almost overly full. “Woozi, oh my god. Wait, yellow.”

His brows furrow as he looks up at you, running a hand over your cheek. He waits until you nod and mutter that you are okay to move. “You sure? Color?”

“Green now. Please move. I need you. I just needed a second.” You roll your hips over him, making him throw his head back into a laugh as he nods.

“Okay, okay I get it. Bra off, now.”

You nod and reach behind your back, undoing the clasp as his hands move to pull down the straps as his hips begin to slowly thrust up, meeting your movements.

Your soft moans are almost overshadowed by his groans, until his mouth is on your skin when your breasts are exposed to him. You can’t help but lean your head back in ecstasy as he starts leaving red marks over your chest as he imagined earlier. Running your hands through his hair, you pull gently, causing a low growl to erupt from his throat as he glances up at you, before running his tongue around your nipple.

“Careful, kitten…I’ll leave you red all over if you start.”

You smirk slightly, making him narrow his eyes playfully. He bites down, making you cry out into a moan. A laugh falls from his lips, before his hands grip your hips as his hips begin to piston upwards, making you lose your breath in surprise as you grip at his shoulders to almost try to hold on to reality.

“I think you’d like that. Waking up tomorrow and looking in the mirror, seeing red and blue spots all over your pretty skin. Wouldn’t you?”

You nod, not answering verbally, causing Woozi to growl again as he thrusts up hard, making you gasp out a yes. “Yes I want that, please. Oh my god, I’m gonna cum. Please!”

Woozi groans at your pleading, his head falling back against the headboard as you moan so beautifully for him, as you beg so sweetly for him. “Yeah? You wanna cum?”

“Yes, please can I cum?”

Glancing at the laptop, Woozi laughs and bites at his lip hard, before taking a breath to calm himself down. He is close, but he wants to hold out to give you what you want. “They want you to cum too. They want to see your cum running down my cock. I want to see that too. Cum for me, baby girl.”

His thumb presses over your clit, rubbing hard as he thrusts hard, and you can’t hold on any longer, even if you wanted to try. The pressure that had been building releases hard enough to make your head spin as you hold on to his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you moan loudly.

Woozi gasps as your walls tighten around him, sending him over the edge. A few hard thrusts into your orgasm, he spills into you with a loud groan, careful not to say your name as his hands dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, like your nails would surely leave on him.

As you slowly stop moving, Woozi's hands loosen their grip, only to begin rubbing gentle circles in the place of the tight vice-like grip, as he laughs and tries to catch his breath. “Holy shit…”

You smile down at him, before laying your forehead on his shoulder, feeling him kiss your ear. The action sends a chill down your spine and causes a soft gasp to fall from your lips.

Smirking, he leaves a few more kisses below your ear, before moving your hair and turning your head to bring your lips to his, before speaking against them.

“My good girl.”

You laugh and nod, nudging your nose against his, before biting at your lip, thinking about your arrangement as you dare to tease him. “You keep calling me pet names, with our…deal, does that mean I get to call you my baby?”

Woozi growls into a smirk, bringing his hand down hard on your ass and leaving a bright red mark that sends the chat into a frenzy, tips coming in quickly as he mutters against your lips. “No, but you can call me daddy.”

“Okay, daddy.”

He grins into the kiss, before he slides from you, letting you lay on your stomach on the bed as he winks at the camera. “Thanks for coming to the show and being such good girls. Maybe I can talk her into joining me again, since you enjoyed it so much. I think she did too.”

You moan softly as he runs a hand over your warm ass where his handprint was still visible, before he laughs again and reaches to turn off the camera, ending the show for the night with a wiggle of his brows. “I love seeing her all red.”

[sugarwoo$i offline]

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#woozi smut #seventeen smut #thesvttown #ficscafe #svthub.collab #svthub #lee jihoon smut #svt smut #woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfics #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #svthub collab

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joeyvotto · 9 months

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hello matty. big fan, love your work. my question is, for me and all the other wrestling yuri sickos, it's finally time we all knew for sure, and you're the only one who can tell us for sure: what is the required watching order for understanding Masha Slamovich and Killer Kelly's whole fucked deal

ALRIGHT so sorry for taking forever to answer this unfortunately the Life Happenings got to me plus. well. cm punk. but anyways-

i'll start here by linking some masha and kelly matches that i personally enjoy, other people are free to chime in if they have any other matches and such that they want to add

masha:

masha vs allie katch monsters ball from impact #950 - 9/24/2022

masha vs jordynne grace from impact over drive 2022

*i do prefer masha and jordynne's bound for glory match, but i can't find any link for it that isn't behind a paywall

masha vs mike bailey from gcw worst behavior

masha vs daniel garcia from vxs

kelly:

kelly vs rok-c from new texas pro wrestling

kelly vs miyu yamashita from impact #976

kelly vs meiko satomura from wwe mae young classic

kelly vs tasha steelz no dq from impact #952

now for matches i can find with the two of them:

wxw (skip to 1:39:45ish)

prestige (skip to 58:00)

impact (not dog collar)

impact (dog collar) (skip to 1:10:40)

as for any segments, these aren't chronological bc it's kind of difficult to find the content as impact posted it to their socials :/ :

masha sending a message to kelly leading up to the match (so sorry this is an instagram link omg)

kelly saving masha from the coven following their match

another save against the coven but this time they do a gay staredown after and team up

this is just the stuff i can find links to, other stuff will be littered through impact episodes and ppvs that can be found on bilibili and dailymotion, or the easier route may be doing the impact youtube subscription that's only like a dollar to get access to all their yt content. but anyways so sorry i couldn't find everything, some of the stuff since they've won the tag titles hasn't really made it to bilibili yet at a quick glance but!! i hope you enjoy

#masha slamovich #killer kelly #impact wrestling #asks #long post #tagging in case anyone else may want to track this post down!

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

All Grown Up ~ JJK | 16

✨ title: all grown up | series (completed) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: R/18+ ~ minors dni ✨ genre/au: romance, fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, humor, banter, smut, age gap, best friends little brother ✨ author's notes: I won't be updating this series on Tumblr. Please continue this series on AO3 or Wattpad. Links below. This fic is inspired by the k-drama, Something in the Rain. ✨ author's notes 2: okay, so i do plan on editing the rest of this series! i just don't know when it'll be done.

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] prev | next ✨ epilogue

✨ chapter sixteen ~ you deserve everything and more | wc: 1.4k

The rehearsal dinner was a success. You were relieved that that part was over, but the wedding was only in the next few weeks. Then the real festivities would really begin. This was only a tiny piece of the bigger puzzle.

You began to clear out the décor sitting on the table and put them back in their boxes as someone approached you from behind.

"Hey," a voice chimed in.

You gazed up at the tall, handsome man with a soft smile. "Hey, Jin." He really did look dashing in a suit and tie.

Jin crossed his arms, leaning against the table. "I loved your speech, but I'm slightly offended that I didn't get asked to do one."

Along with Yuna and Namjoon's parents, you were the only one to give a speech. You laughed at his remark. He was a jokester, wasn't he? Imagine if you'd gone out on that date with Jin instead of going home with Jungkook.

"I'm sure they wanted to save your speech for the wedding reception. I think it'd make more of an impact," you chuckled, shaking your head.

"Ah–you're probably right. That's better for me so I can charm more people," he grinned, sending a wink. He uncrossed his arms, holding his weight on the table.

You stopped to look at him. "Are you always like this?"

Jin nodded. "Yes."

You continued cleaning, and Jin helped by picking up some things.

"So...how are things with you and Jungkook?" The handsome man was intrigued by your relationship with his young friend. He'd only known Jungkook for a short period, but he grew to care for him like his brother. Jin could tell Jungkook was utterly head over heels for you. The constant pouting and groaning at work was a good indicator of his broken heart.

"Oh--um, I don't know. I haven't spoken to him for a few weeks now." You weren't lying, minus the short conversation from earlier tonight. You had kept your distance for fear of your feelings growing deeper if Jungkook became more persistent.

"I see. You should talk to him. I'd hate to see you guys not have a chance to try and work things out."

You didn't know Jin well, but you were surprised by his sudden advice. You wondered if Jungkook persuaded him to say something to you.

"That's sweet of you, but I don't know if things will work out between us." You'd thought long and hard about the two of you. The nine-year age gap, especially with an older woman pursuing a younger man, wasn't unheard of, but it certainly wasn't common. Your mind swirled at the thought of judgmental stares and whispers. You didn't think you could handle it.

He came over and handed you a handful of clothed napkins that he was collecting. "He's not a man of many words, but he loves his job and food and you more."

After most family and friends left, you hoped Jungkook was still around. You were searching for him and bumped into Yuna.

"Hey. Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I'm heading back with Joon."

"Okay. Have a good night," you said as you were ready to return in the other direction to find Jungkook.

The two of you had little interaction since dinner tonight. She and Namjoon were busy mingling with the crowd while you were running around like a chicken with your head cut off to ensure everything would go smoothly.

"Y/n--wait."

You stopped in your tracks, turning back around. "Yeah? What's up?"

Yuna tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Nervously, she said, "I, um, just wanted to say thank you for tonight and thank you for the speech. I know it was last minute, and I put you on the spot."

"Oh--it's fine. It was easy to whip something up about you and Namjoon. I just spoke from the heart." You loved watching your best friend fall in love. She and Namjoon were perfect together - cheesy to say, but they really did complete each other.

"...um, have you and Jungkookie decided what you guys are?"

After Namjoon knocked some sense into her, Yuna felt terrible about how she handled everything with you and Jungkook. She was too hasty and rash. She wasn’t thinking about you and everything you were going through. She was only thinking of her baby brother. So, she hoped that the two of you would work things out.

"It's been a while since I've spoken to him, but I told him I couldn't be with him because I respect our friendship and love you too much."

Yuna inched closer and took your hands in hers. "Y/n, I love you, but I can see how much this is hurting the two of you, and I can't bear seeing you guys like this. I'm sorry I overreacted and was a bitch about everything but you two deserve to see if this is worth fighting for.”

"That's what I'm scared of, Yuna. What if it doesn't work out? What if all of this was for nothing? What if I'm not everything he thought I was? What if I break his heart again?"

Your mind would always wander off to the worst possible scenarios. You had already broken Jungkook’s heart, and if the two of you tried to date and it didn’t work out? Then you’d lose both Yuna and Jungkook.

"Y/n, stop talking yourself out of it. You won't know unless you try."

"I love you. You're my best friend. I never wanted to come between you and Jungkook. I'm sorry I put you in a difficult position. I should have talked to you about it first. I was scared because I didn't know how you'd feel about us. And honestly, I'm still scared. I don't want to disappoint you or him."

"You could never disappoint me."

You looked over her shoulder as he approached you. "Jungkook…"

"I'll leave you guys. Bye." She pulled you in for a hug and whispered, "Go get 'em, tiger."

You smiled as you pulled back. Jungkook stood there with his eyes twinkling in the moonlight, his hair swooped perfectly to the side of his face, and a grin slowly spreading from ear to ear.

"Hi,” you uttered with a sheepish smile.

"Hi."

"Don't be so sure that I can't disappoint you. I think I've done that plenty recently.” You weren’t sure how many chances you’d get before you struck out.

He shook his head no and took a step closer to you. "Mm, I think you just needed some time away from us to figure out some things. Do I wish you would have kept me in the loop? Yes, but I understand."

"I don't deserve someone like you."

His hands reached to caress your cheeks, and you leaned into them. It had been so long since you'd felt his touch. You closed your eyes, savoring this sweet moment.

"Y/n, you deserve everything and more."

You softly chuckled and smiled. "You're too good to me."

Jungkook grinned. "I know."

"Never mind. I'll take it back."

"No takebacks!"

"I'm leaving then."

"That's too bad because I'm never letting you go. You're stuck with me forever."

"Forever, huh?"

He smiled and nodded. "That's if you want to."

"I guess if I'm stuck with you forever, then I should have some fun."

His eyes perked up when he heard you. "What kind of fun? Like fun, fun ?" he smirked.

"Oh god, Kook, that's the first thing you think about?"

"That's all I've been thinking about. Do you know how goddamn sexy you are?"

You rolled your eyes.

"What? And you haven't?"

"Um, I may have thought about it on occasion." You may have rubbed one out every night since he’s last touched you. He was too goddamn sexy not to think about his hands roaming all over you.

" Ohh --I see. So, should we do something about it?"

You were trying to push him away playfully, but he pulled you in closer, smiling as he locked his lips with yours. At this moment, you didn't care who was still around or who could see the two of you. You were with the one you wanted, the one you needed - encapsulated and enchanted with each other's presence. You never wanted to let go of him. Who would have thought you and your best friend's little brother?

✨ previous chapter ~ it'll never be the same

✨ next ~ epilogue

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook x noona #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook romance #jungkook smut #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #fic: all grown up

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tobegiggledat · 1 year

Text

To the One I Greatly Cherish

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairings: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x afab!reader, Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke) x afab!reader

✦word count: 4.7k (this part only), 9.4k (total)

✦summary: A series of anonymous love letters fill your inbox days before the world's most notable romantic holiday, but who could possibly be your secret admirer? Will you be able to find out their identity in time for Valentine's Day?

✦warnings: slight angst, guilt, kissing, massages, mutual fingering, oral sex, clit-leashing, vaginal sex, dildos, praise, begging, pet names (angel)

✦a/n: A special fic for the folks that only got love from fictional characters this year (me)

This fic has different endings depending on who you think wrote the letters (you’ll have to choose a link at the bottom), but I’d recommend reading both for the full context.

To the one I greatly cherish,

If you’re captivating eyes manage to stumble upon this message, then you must know how often you cross my mind.

And how there isn't a breath I take that isn't fueled by my desire to be with you one day.

Even from a distance, your presence will continue to consume me, although I'm afraid you won't understand.

Longing for you always,

Your Secret Admirer

It’s only been a day since you’ve discovered that someone wants to pursue you from afar.

The first message from this unknown sender was delivered with an eye-catching header to your school email address, one which you clicked with an urgency, zipping across the romantic lines before your cursor could keep up with you. The thought of it still sends a fresh rush of warm fervor through your system at the possibility of who it may be.

When was the last time someone yearned for you, let alone expressed it in such a heartfelt way?

A blaring bell chimes to interrupt your reminiscence. It's a signal for another day's work at U.A. High School, and as the Heroics Department’s Journalism teacher you mustn’t spend your time idly.

Dozens of students flock to their seats, some bright-eyed and eager to learn, while others give distant, dull gazes you’re certain wouldn’t falter even if the sky were to somehow collapse into your very classroom.

No matter, you’ll teach the subject with utmost enthusiasm as it’s one you’ve been passionate about since youth. Many of your teenage years were spent gathering first hand sources on heroic symbolism, the faults/benefits of quirk regulation, and more. You managed to garner a following for yourself on all socials—though whether you’re a good journalist or not has always been…up for debate.

Today’s lesson goes by swiftly, with you discussing privacy rights and the importance of examining a source’s background and potential interests. It's a lesson you could've used many years ago, nonetheless, you believe you'll shape your students into promising reporters even as you grow from your past mishaps.

The next period gives you an opportunity to collect your thoughts; an empty classroom makes for an empty mind, although your fingers itch to finally text your best friend about the whole “secret admirer” ordeal.

You: Gained a potential love interest today👀

Emi: Right, and it's not that one loser from the bar again is it?

You: Hmm, maybe. They're a secret admirer after all

Emi: So, secretly the loser from the bar?

You: I’d hope not, but the secret part does make that sound a bit more alluring.

You: Let's grab coffee later so I can tell you more.

Your phone slides from your hands and onto the desk in exchange for the stack of papers you were meant to grade. Your pointy, red pen taps against your bottom lip as you scan over the neat arrangement of letters at the top of the stack, checking and ticking along the margins then repeating this for the next page or until class ends.

The lunch bell inevitably releases you from your dreary task, and you're quick to align the correct stacks in their designated corners before gathering your lunch box and taking off toward your usual secluded spot.

Students line the walls in minimally chaotic rows, something you've come to appreciate as order is always upheld in U.A. despite how small.

You turn the corner into an empty hall, but your heart plunges into your ass upon looking to the very end of it to discover the long, violet strands and crimson lenses of Nemuri Kayama.

In an instant, you think to escape before she makes out your presence, but just when you turn on your heels to do so she gives you a condescending smirk while raising a palm to give a curt wave.

The controversy of your past always seems to linger.

“Afternoon, Kayama”, you keep your introduction brief upon clashing with her stark center amidst the path.

“Professor Kayama”, she corrects snobbishly. “Remember, this is a school environment, not one of your trashy articles.” Her shapely brows frown as she grits her teeth.

You give her a faux grin to appease her ridiculous standards of professionalism. “Trashy or blunt truths you chose to avoid?”

Her eyes nearly roll back into their sockets. “If you're the source of truth, then maybe the world is too incapable to seek it themselves.” Kayama whips her hair away with a pale hand, the click-clack of her heels echoing against the tile as she storms off.

You're just glad the whole thing is over with.

You stumble upon your destination; a quiet gated area outside the back of the school. The trees around it are ample of life, leaving shadowy freckles of shade across your skin as you sit beneath its thick heads of leaves.

Your head turns to and fro while you attempt to spot the signature dark wardrobe of your occasional accompanier, but it seems he hasn't arrived today.

Besides you and Aizawa, no one else has noticed this area's unusual privacy, but it makes things all the more peaceful.

You chow down on leftovers from yesterday's dinner then depart to begin teaching the last two classes; stringing together repetitions from the lesson earlier except with more exaggeration on the privacy aspect.

You head out to meet Emi minutes before the final bell rings, giving your class an early dismissal as long as they agree to go about it quietly.

You've known Emi since high school, although you ultimately decided to teach at U.A. for more newsgathering opportunities. Emi never lets you hear the end of it as she jokingly calls you the traitor of Ketsubutsu whenever you'd mention your experiences there.

While you weren't in the heroics program back when you were a student, you made notable achievements as an intern for a national website by investigating scandals of corrupt heroes and crafting opinion pieces on the ethics of hero society.

You met Emi at the beginning of your first-year orientation, with the two of you sitting beside each other at the assembly hall, playing off of each other's jokes in whispers and concealed giggles to keep yourselves entertained.

You could never bring yourself to admit that she's the funniest of the two of you, but you've always spoken of how you admire her approach to heroism as she brings smiles to civilian's faces even without the use of her quirk.

Sweet aromas of vanilla and herbs waft through the coffee shop air, with dim lights illuminating the rustic interior and dark wooden tables placed in all corners.

Emi’s seated near the end of the cafe and has already ordered you and her drinks. You make your way to her table, teeth gleaming and eyes bright while meeting her own eager, chartreuse ones.

“Hey, what’s the news?”Emi chirps, sliding a cup to your end of the table.

You hold the drink firmly before releasing a small sigh. “Not much to tell. I still don’t have the slightest clue as to who they might be.”

“I’m excited!” Her smile grows wider as she twists side to side with glee. “What’ll you do once you find out?”

“Probably marry them or something. I mean, no one has ever gone through this much effort for me”, you jape despite the depressing reality of your words, then take a sip of your drink, savoring the familiar flavors with each gulp.

She puckers her lips to give a playful pout. “Does this mean you’ll replace me?” She asks with fake weariness. “Does what we have mean so little to you?”

You reassure her teasingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll marry you next if things don’t work out this time.”

She taps her lips with her straw as if considering. “With such a good offer, I’m not sure if I want to help you with this anymore.”

“Oh, come on, Emi. You know I’ll always love you.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll help you”, she relents. “Maybe you should try picking a person close to you and observing them.”

“Hmm…funnily enough, I’m not that close to any of my coworkers. It’s weird I received a love letter through my school email at all.” You reach down to take another hefty sip.

“But there’s gotta be someone you know at least a little more than the others.”

You take a moment to ponder. “Sometimes, I sit with Aizawa during lunch, although we don’t talk often so we just enjoy each other’s silences.”

Emi’s brows raise noticeably. “Yikes…if anything I’d think he’s your least likely candidate.”

“I know, but there aren’t many options to choose from. Kayama hates me, I hardly get a chance to speak to Mic or Vlad outside of meetings, and All Might is…All Might.”

“Well, if Aizawa is your best bet there shouldn’t be harm in looking into him anyways, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so...”

You and Emi’s talk concludes with exchanged hugs before you take your train home, contemplating Emi’s suggestion and how to go about your approach.

When you arrive, you hastily discard your work clothes before putting on something more comfortable and lounging on your bed to reread the email you received.

Is this really something Aizawa would write, you hesitantly contemplate to yourself, scanning over the flowery words and recoiling at the idea of him putting them together—you ultimately decide it’s tomorrow's problem.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

To the one I greatly cherish,

I hope you’re pleased reading my messages as much as I am while writing them.

As the time passes, I find my days to be progressively trivial without you.

My most profitable successes are worthless as they’re void of your companionship. My biggest fear overlaps with my inability to have you.

Will we ever be united? It’s up to fate to decide.

Continuing to be blessed by you,

Your Secret Admirer

Today’s letter creates new waves of violent jitters along your spine, coupling with the preexisting dread that’s already palpitating through your system at the thought of approaching Aizawa about it.

You’re unsure how you’d feel if you found out he truly had feelings for you, and while you told Emi you’d probably reciprocate them, you can’t say that for certain.

You've grown to respect Aizawa to some degree after investigating his days as the underground hero, Eraserhead, but nothing more as of yet.

Only time will tell, for now you’d just like to get to the bottom of who’s been plotting to romance you, once and for all.

The lunch bell eventually stirs to life, and with your steeled resolve, you hurriedly pace along the halls, toward the back of the school.

The dark blue doors feel heavy against your palms as you press on them to finally arrive at the shaded area. Its lulling atmosphere is as undisturbed as you expected, you spot Aizawa’s rugged form on a bench, faced away and gazing at the limited scenery of the campus.

“Hey, is it okay if I sit here?” You ask upon approaching him while awkwardly hovering outside his range of sight.

He nods slightly but makes no effort to turn your direction.

You take a seat beside him, picking at the prints of your fingers to occupy yourself and the silence. “It’s beautiful weather for February, isn’t it? I honestly expected a little more snow”, you finally attempt to break the tension.

He hums softly in agreement but nothing more.

“Valentine’s day is right around the corner, but I’m not one to usually celebrate it”, you pause, clenching your peeling fingers into a snug fist. “What about you—”

“You’re awfully chatty today”, Aizawa interrupts, his voice gruff with irritation as his hands hook along the sides of his scarf.

Your words are nearly caught on your tongue. “I’m sorry?”

“If this is for one of your news columns or something, I have no interest in gossiping.”

You sneer, turning fully to face him, but only his stoic, disinterested profile can be seen. “That’s not my field of work and you know it. Haven’t you read any of my reports?”

“Possibly, but it’s not like I’d remember those kinds of things.”

Ouch.

“Whatever, it’s nothing. Sorry to have bothered you.” You defeatedly rise from your seat, throat and eyes stinging from the heat that grows with each step you take toward the door.

This isn’t the first time your work has been reduced to pandering nonsense, but for some reason it hurts way more than usual.

“Fuck”, you mutter quietly, sniffling away in the nearest bathroom stall as you try to collect yourself.

Has it really been that long since you’ve written something that deconstructed the masses view on heroics? You must’ve grown too complacent at this school—in fact, this is where it all went wrong.

Choosing to become a teacher instead of risking your comfort to uncover hidden truths wasn’t what you initially planned.

But is it so wrong to change paths even when your prior choice was deemed more impactful?

Is it so wrong to write proposals about a hopeful, nonexistent future than to expose more darkness of a knowingly ineffective society? You’ve long realized the corruption runs deeper than you ever could’ve hoped to shed light on. You journal about the new era of quirks, searching for an ability that’ll make the old way of things seem outdated.

Is that too foolish to look forward to?

Your phone vibrates along your clothes’ seams, and you swiftly remove it from your pocket as you swipe away the last of your tears.

Emi: Soo, is Aizawa dying to be with you or what???

A small smile creeps up your cheeks at her overwhelming interest.

You: Nope. It was a complete shut down.

Emi: It’s okay. I’ve been there too, Aizawa’s tough.❤️

A hefty exhale escapes you before you finally make yourself presentable enough to return to your classroom and finish teaching for the rest of the day.

Once classes end, Mic summons all of the heroics teachers into the teacher’s lounge to invite everyone out for drinks in celebration of his podcast’s growing success.

You: I was invited to go to a club with my coworkers tomorrow night, should I go?

Emi: Yes!! How else will you find your true love?!

You: Yeah, but with Aizawa and Kayama it'll be awkward :(

Emi: Aizawa doesn't go out on school days so you should be down at least one problem

You: Fair enough, I’ll just try to avoid Kayama the whole night🥲

Now, the only thing left to do is prepare yourself for another long day of hardships…

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

To the one I greatly cherish,

Come find me on Valentine’s Day so that I'll be rightfully yours. Let your heart guide you to the correct choice if you feel the same as I.

Thinking of you fondly,

Your Secret Admirer

Unlike the emails from before, today's love letter arrives a half hour after school ends rather than before it starts, and is much briefer in length.

You’re expected to somehow discover the identity of your admirer within a few days and without much to go off of.

It’s almost like they never wanted to be discovered in the first place.

Sharp pin-pricks zip through palms and into your twitching fingertips as the nervous chill that’s pervaded your body attempts to find an outlet through your skin.

If only they knew their longing is being reciprocated…

You aid your shudders with disordered breaths, mentally counting each dry pant before drafting a text to update Emi on the state of your situation.

To pass the time before meeting with your coworkers and to get your mind off the whole letter ordeal, you spend the rest of the evening formulating your lesson plans for the next week.

It’s tedious but necessary work as you ultimately decide on journalism ethics and informed opinions for the topics.

Emi still hasn’t responded to your texts since before classes ended, although you know she’ll want you to persist with going out anyways.

Nighttime arrives and you promptly put together a casual yet tasteful look then exit your home with the weight of the world seemingly trapped in your chest. The ride there is even more disorienting with clammy passengers cramming all corners of the train and bracing themselves for each turn with the lack of space.

Luckily, the trip is short as you find yourself standing before the glowing green lights of the club’s name etched in neon, with purple hues also trailing the rim of it and leading down to the snowy glass doors.

You tug at the elongated handles, breath caught in your throat as you take your first steps toward the source of your unease.

Ambient music sweeps through your ears, its vibrations jolting enough to stir the hairs on your skin and rattle the depths of your bones. Your eyes drift across the arrangement of floundering civilians to spot the bright yellow of Mic’s hair as he’s seated on a stool closest to the front of the bar.

His hands flail outwardly to make exuberant gestures while he speaks to a hooded man beside him. Kayama also sits near Mic, slender fingers cupped around a glass with a salted rim and lemon. Her glossy lips meet the edge of it as her gaze passes between Mic and the unfamiliar man as they speak.

How long will you continue to watch from a distance?

Your hands cup the sides of your arms for comfort—but suddenly, as if Kayama could feel the force of your stare, her intense blue irises spot you in her periphery before promptly shifting away.

Your body moves backward mechanically to leave until you feel your phone chime against you.

Call me, the message from Emi reads, and you take off toward a dark, empty hallway at the end of the club to do just that.

Thankfully, the area is quiet and private enough for you to make the call.

“Hey, have you reached the bar yet?” Emi cheerfully answers after the first ring.

You press the phone tightly to your ear. “Yeah, but I’m not sure if I can do this anymore. I feel so out of place here”, your voice drifts as you speak, tone shaky and uncertain.

“I get what you mean. It must be exhausting to perform in front of people you’re not really familiar with.”

“Right. I just never expected having a secret admirer to be so…stressful.” Your head falls back against the wall as you shut your eyes gently. “How will I ever find out who they are if they never plan to reveal themselves?”

“I’m not sure, but if you really want to find out this may be your only chance.”

“Yeah, then I should probably get back to it... Thanks, Emi.” You take a last sigh of relief before reluctantly hanging up to go back to the rest of the group.

As you turn the corner to retreat, a dizzying force crashes into you and sends your heels tumbling backward, scrambling for a tidbit of balance.

Before an apology could form on your tongue, you recognize the passerby as no one other than Kayama and begin to pull yourself away.

“ ‘m sorry, just came to check up on you”, Kayama’s words are slightly slurred as she speaks. She clumsily swipes her purple wisps from her deeply stained cheeks. Her eyes are glassy, pupils blown as they examine you with an intrigue you’ve never witnessed from her.

“Are you drunk?” You ask hesitantly, but she only blinks at you slowly.

“Just tipsy, but come on.” Her hand locks around your wrist as she pulls you along the halls to lead you back to the bar, and for some reason you don’t pull away. You opt to be dictated by her impulse despite the conflict that’s always existed between you.

Mic and the stranger have gone off somewhere by the time you both return. Kayama pulls herself to the counter and orders another round of shots after awkwardly pointing along the lengthy menu provided to her.

Three clear glasses are slid in front of you with a smirk passing over Kayama’s lips.

You question if her actions are a drunken whim or a genuine attempt to mend your strained dynamic, but you don’t think it matters much.

This’ll make things easier, right?

Fuck it. You gulp down all three shots consecutively, jaw tightening as the burning liquid courses down your throat and through your chest. Heat seeps into your nerves while the alcohol begins to conquer your judgment.

Kayama’s smile grows wider, a giddy hum passing through her lips. “Let’s have some fun!” She redirects you once more, except to the dance floor as the next song begins to play.

Her body begins to sway delicately to the thrums of each beat, a series of synchronized yet hypnotic movements possessing her limbs as her piercing eyes remain on yours.

She shuffles a little closer then places a soft palm on your shoulder, trailing down along your sleeves then grasping your hand again tightly. She twirls away on the tips of her feet, free hand extended outward, before pulling into you and pressing her back firmly against your chest, while her hips curve into your own.

As quickly as she spins into you, she turns back to face you with her features no more than a breath away from yours. She stills for a moment, quietly taking in each ridge across your cheeks and the delicate shape of your lips.

“You’re really hot, y’know that?” She speaks tenderly against you, although there’s an underlying sadness as she utters it, one her facial expression seems to mimic as well.

“Buut…I still haven’t forgiven you”, she winks without any trace of her earlier gloom present. The heat of her closeness disappears to leave you cold and aching as she turns away to leave the club without another word.

Her words still echo across your synapses while the clarity of her silhouette slowly fades until gone completely.

You've wronged her but have yet to atone even though the guilt of your actions continue to fester and swell in your chest to engrave rotten, pus-filled holes in the walls of your heart. It oozes and drips into your veins as it spoils you, body and mind.

Would she ever accept your pleas of forgiveness if you were to give them to her? Does she too believe that the tight-walk around the conversation has gone on for too long?

You anxiously text Emi on the way home.

You: I think I may have found my secret admirer

Maybe the letters were a ruse to finally address things once and for all…

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

The very next morning Emi sends a message to your school email.

Hey

No service right now but email me back if you need anything :)

Emi

A wave of relief washes over you now that you’ve been given the reasoning for Emi’s lack of responses.

You’re eager to give her more juicy details on your valentine, but you’d rather discuss with her in person once classes end.

Today is a typical Friday, with students excitedly whispering discussions of their weekend plans, and teachers assigning the appropriate amount of coursework for the next two days off.

Despite the upcoming weekend, you won’t be at ease as Valentine’s Day will be on the approaching Monday and you’re still dissatisfied with your “investigation”.

You’ve yet to see Midnight, even after intentionally passing her classroom, but other than that classes go by swimmingly.

Emi receives your email begging her to let you come over to her apartment so that the two of you can chat and she obliges.

Still dressed in your work attire, you give a few taps on the beige door to Emi’s apartment, which opens the moment your knuckles retreat from its smooth wood.

"Hey, come on in”, Emi greets, swiftly turning so that you'd follow her into her lavish living room, adorned with patterned wallpaper and two lime-green suede sofas at the center.

She sits on the farthest end of one of the couches and you join right beside her. The small coffee table before you is already decorated with snacks and drinks, you smile at the thought of having another movie night or sleepover with her.

“So tell me about it already”, Emi says, eyes wide and fingers clasped together as if she’s pleading.

“Emi, you're not going to believe me when I tell you who it is”, you begin as you reach passively for a bottle of water to occupy your hands.

She gasps. “No way, is it Kayama?”

You nod with a smug grin. “I think so, but I'm not one-hundred percent sure yet.”

“What makes you think it's her? She totally hates you.”

“That's what I thought too, until she started dancing with me at the club the other night.”

Emi claps her palms over her mouth as you continue, her emerald brows nearly touching the soft hairs of her hairline.

“We were both a bit drunk but I still think it was odd she tried to initiate anything with me at all.”

“Did you get a chance to talk with Mic or the others?” Emi asks with undeviating attention.

“No, not once. I doubt they had anything to do with this otherwise they would've made an attempt to reach out to me.” You focus on the feeling of the cool condensation on your fingers as you speak, rolling the thin plastic bottle between each hand.

Emi hums in agreement. “Good point. And going by the emails, this person must really-really like you. They're not just someone who passed you by and thought you were cute.”

“Yeah, putting it that way means Midnight is the only one I’ve had a history with, even though we’ve…drifted apart.” You let out a deep sigh before finally taking a few gulps of water. “Emi, things would’ve been so much easier if you were the one behind this.” Your pouty eyes meet hers, and for a second her expression is unreadable.

“What if I actually was?” She asks softly, but her features are stern as she awaits your reply. Her body unconsciously shifts closer to you while yours goes rigid.

“You mean, you’re my secret admirer?”

“Mhmm.” Her stare slowly trails to your lips and lingers there for what feels like an eternity.

You swear your cheeks are searing to the touch as warmth spreads beneath your skin from the intensity of her look.

“I’m just kidding!” Emi suddenly beams then playfully taps your shoulder. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“Don’t joke like that Emi. My heart was racing.” You can’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes.

“Good, that means you’ve fallen for me.”

Shortly after talking with Emi, she puts on a romcom that she's been wanting to see for ages, but you can hardly pay any attention to it.

Are you overthinking what she said earlier?

It feels like you’ve known Emi forever, but it’s still hard to tell when she’s being serious at times.

Maybe you shouldn’t brush off the possibility of there being some truth to what she suggested, after all, she could’ve easily sent you those emails at any moment.

You decide not to sleepover at Emi’s house that night due to the unusual nervousness that accompanies you at the thought of sharing a bed with her.

Under the comfort of your duvet, you look into the pitch-black darkness of your room, silently meditating on what you’ve gathered while looking into your admirer's identity.

You vividly recall Kayama’s fleeting interest in spending time with you and how it correlates with the sudden letters. Do her feelings for you remain despite all that’s happened?

You also begin to ruminate the feel of Emi’s harsh stare as she spoke with you earlier. When she entertained your misled thoughts about the emails, was it merely façade?

After deliberating, only one conclusion seems most sensical to you. The orchestrator of it all has to be

Emi ✦ Kayama

#midnight smut #midnight x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #ms joke x reader #ms joke smut #emi fukukado x reader #ms joke #mha x gender neutral reader #pro hero x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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finniestoncrane · 10 months

Note

OH I DIDN’T KNOW WE COULD DO MORE THAN ONE. Okay so I will also send in a blind date request :)

I’m not sure how much info you need so I’ll give you the basics

- I consider myself to be pretty quiet? Not intentionally I just happen to stumble over words a lot so :P I’m pretty detail oriented and everything in my house is either super ultra organized or an absolute mess, no in between. When it comes to dating I really just like someone who I can watch movies with (and have like a pretty interesting conversation about what we’re watching) AND someone who will give me good art feedback. More basic info is that I’m a tattoo artist, about to turn 22, and I have a relatively thick southern accent!

This was fun, I hope I gave you the info you needed :D

💜 blind date 💜 the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: is it a blind date when you know who i'm putting you with??? lmao💚

“Welcome to the Vill-Inn! You're lucky to get a double date, or at least... a date with two handsome guys!”

There's only one man at the table you're pointed towards, but as you take a better look on your way over, you realise you know exactly who you're going to be seated across from.

"Harvey Dent. Although, I guess the work I've done as Two Face has superceded the fame I got as Harvey, doing what good I could do."

He seemed slightly bitter, but he warms up quickly. Especially when he realises he's spent the first fifteen minutes of your date talking about himself and his past as the district attorney, and then a further fifteen minutes arguing with himself about how much more important his work in the criminal underworld is, without you interrupting once.

"You're quiet. Or we're loud. It's one of the two, but it works, right?"

When you finally do say something, he's completely enamoured with your accent. Harvey finds it charming, he makes a joke about how Southern lawyers always seem more wholesome and trustworthy. Harv chimes in with a comment about how it makes it sound like you might be up for getting rowdy and dirty. You roll your eyes with a smile.

He asks where you live, and mentions the apartments there are nice. His interest is piqued when you mention that yours is a bit nice, a bit messy. That you can be cluttered an organised. That your space reflects both sides of your personality. With a wink and a chuckle he tells you he understands that all too well.

At one point, he excuses himself to take an important call, and when he returns to find that you've been doodling on the napkin he requests to take a closer look.

"Is that... is that me? Is that us? Wow. It's amazing. Always nice to see how you look through the eyes of someone else, and I like the way I look through yours."

Two Face is... less impressed with how you've drawn his side of Harvey. He offers some 'constructive criticism' as he puts it, and though Harvey apologises, you tell him not to. It's nice to hear feedback, positive and... 'constructive'.

At the end of the meal, Harvey refuses to let you pay. He tips the waitstaff with a crisp $100 bill and stands up, pulling your chair out for you. Ever the gentleman. Although, it's nice to have his other half leaning in close to smell your neck, a bit more forward than Harvey, but a nice contrast.

Outside, you say goodbye and move to grab a taxi, but Harvey waves the one who stops off. You're confused, but intrigued.

"Dinner and a movie, huh doll? There are two of us, you owe us a date each."

#finnie writes #finnie1500

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jpitha · 1 year

Text

Hidden Depths 10

Awakenings 1 2 3 4

Hidden Depths 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

As Nilan and Ta'reni left the office, Chloe turned to James and Fellmeli. "Vivenni is on the right track. We're going to need some help if we're going to survive this. Whoever was in system is enough for now, but soon the Venusians are going to be done doing whatever it is they're doing and really attack. We'll need to be ready."

"Agreed, but what are we going to do?" James said.

"Also, what about the folks on the Reach?" Fellmeli added.

"Like I said, I know someone. I linked a beacon out as soon as the attack started. If we're lucky, they should be here soon. Meanwhile, you should send word down to them to pack up and get ready to evacuate up here. If things go bad, Starbase can link away now. There's no need to subject them to domination by Venus."

"Okay, I'll get a message composed and sent down right away" Fellmeli said, and turned to leave.

"James, I need your help too." Chloe gestured to him to follow. James looked at Fellmeli who shrugged and went into the other room to record another message.

As they walked Chloe didn't check to see if James was following, she just started talking. "There's a K'laxi onboard we need to find."

"Another one?"

"Yes. Her name is Cereni and she is one of the best loadmasters I've ever seen. She'll be needed to get the dropship that is coming loaded up and secured for the ride up. I know she lives here but..." Chloe paused. "She won't be pleased to hear from me. Can you reach out?"

James raised an eyebrow. "If I do, and she agrees to help, won't she be extra mad that you asked someone else on your behalf for help? She might just leave then when she learns that."

Chloe sighed. She hated to admit James was right. "Okay, yes. I'll talk to her." She clicked her headset. "Starbase! Can you tell me where Cereni Hemiganian is?

"One moment please Chloe."

****

Cereni had made it back to her quarters. The attack was still ongoing but there seemed to not be as much of a direct threat as a couple hours earlier, so Starbase said everyone could leave the shelters, but had to go home and stay there for now. Hopefully, whoever was out there would do what they came to do and leave, or be repelled by the forces in system.

She was sitting down to a late meal when the door chimed. "Who is it?" She called over the annunciator.

There was a slight pause. "It's Chloe."

She laughed. "Chloe it hasn't even been half a year, and you're back? You know my answer. No."

Chloe sighed over the open channel. "Cereni, I'm sorry. What I did was wrong, and I should have told you the truth from the get go. You and Sophie should have been more informed about what I was asking you to do. I did not intend to blow the reactors on Spruces, but I saw an opportunity for an edge and I took it. I can't even find Sophie to apologize to her, she's ignored all my messages. Can you at least open the door so we can talk?"

The door clicked open. Cereni stood there arms akimbo. She was annoyed at how attracted she was to Chloe and yet how mad she made her.

"Come in then. I'm just sitting down to eat, do you want anything?"

"Actually, I could really go for some tea if you have any."

Cereni flicked her ear. "Alright, sure. Let's have some tea and talk."

****

After a few cups of tea, Cereni was trying to understand what was going on.

"So, it's the Imperial...."

"Imperial Venusian Navy yes"

"And they've declared that AIs aren't people?"

"Yes."

"Which we all don't agree with."

"I should hope not!"

"But why are they here? Why now? Why not just stay in the Sol system and make their little proclamations from there?"

Chloe shrugged and took another sip of tea. "I really don't know. Maybe they defeated the OPA, maybe they haven't and are trying to capture more materiel for their war effort back home. Maybe this is just a vanguard to see how soft - or not - the colonies are and will come with a larger force later. Regardless, they are here, they don't think I or anyone like me should be alive and if they capture us, it will not be pleasant."

Cereni leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Why me though?"

"You know the colony on the planet below? Zen'ma'gan's Reach?"

"Yeah, K'laxi colony; older than Starbase, but never really took off. The planet is too dry for us, it never got much past the initial town they founded when they landed."

"The Venusians won't be nice to them if they capture Starbase. We need to get them off world."

"That's doable I guess. There's time for them to pack, and we..." she gasped. "You called Abyssal Plains!"

Chloe nodded. "I don't know if they'll come, but if they do, they are going to need a loadmaster, and I remember Abyssal saying you were their best."

Cereni smirked. "Chloe, that's...so sweet. You remembered such a small detail about me and was able to use it to try and help the people down on the Reach."

Even though she was an AI in an artifical body, she still felt things; the builders of AI bodies are very thorough. Chloe blushed, just a bit.

"Well, yes, Um. It's good to know the skills of people around you in case they're needed. It's just good planning." She managed.

"Uh huh." Cereni said, still smiling. She drained her tea.

"I'll help. I won't forget how upset I was before, but I will remember how you apologized and came to me with all the information this time." She looked at Chloe. "You did come to me with all the information this time, yes?"

Chloe blurted out: "Well, Starbase is also made up of an old Starjumper named Picaresque who we had thought had been offloaded when the Starjumper was integrated into Starbase but wasn't and was just dormant until Gord found out and woke him up and that's what cased the gravity anolomy earlier today, but that wasn't related to the Venusians attacking."

Cereni opened her mouth to reply but Chloe continued.

"Also, we just asked a very cute human and k'laxi couple to go to K'lax and ask on our behalf for help defending ourselves from the Venusians."

Cereni closed her mouth. There was no stopping Chloe now.

"And also Gord - he's a really old AI, older than me - and Lucas - I don't know who he is, but he seems useful - decided to go grab a couple Starjumpers and accelerate up to a quarter of the speed of light to attach to the human colony ship Mt Greylock - which is currently breaking to come in system - and slow them down quicker so they can link over because then we'll have another source of ships and materiel that can be used in our defense.

Cereni's ears flattened.

"That's pretty much it though. She clicked her headset. Starbase, Picaresque, did I miss anything?"

"No Chloe, that's pretty much it I think." Picaresque answered. "Good evening Cereni, my name is Picaresque. I'm here with Starbase."

Cereni's mouth was agape. "There's two of you now?"

"Yes, it's a little cramped in here, but we're getting by" Starbase said. "Picaresque gave me access to the systems still inside him that were never integrated over, so now we have a wormhole generator, two more reactors and even a Starjumper class weapons battery! Just the one though, so we'll have to save it for defense."

"Wow. Um, okay." Cereni looked at Chloe, who was trying very hard to not look worried. "Thank you Chloe for your honesty even if it was a little...much."

"I-I didn't want you to think I was keeping anything from you."

"Yes, I believe you."

"So, you'll help?"

"Yes. I'll help." Cereni stood. "Just one more thing, who is Gord again?"

She told him.

"THE MAPLE GUY????"

Chloe laughed. "He will be entirely too pleased with himself if that becomes his legacy."

"Come on, let's go. We should get ready for Abyssal's arrival. I could also use your help with the loading on Starbase. If we have to link away, we're going to have to see how far down we can condense things and that'll mean moving mass around."

"Lead the way then Chloe." and she took her hand.

Chloe had a very small intake of breath, and squeezed it gently back.

They walked out towards the Administrators office together.

Part 11!

#humans are space orcs #humans and ai #humans are space oddities #humans are space capybaras #writing #scifi writing #humans are deathworlders #sci fi writing

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stormwaterwitch · 1 year

Note

I have a question about Deities that you can TELL weren't brought into existence by you, but take on a form of fictional media that you hyperfixate on?

Hyper-fixation vs 'Real Deities'

Heya anon~♥

The term you might be looking for is Pop Culture Paganism or the inclusion of popular culture into your practice. I have my own hyper-fixations and moods that I go through with my path so I'll speak from my place and hope that it translates well enough ^^); b There are forms of media that mean everything to me. Things that have helped form the very basis of who I shaped up to be. Through these medias I was able to define my very sense of self and I feel a deep connection towards them. In a way they are anchors to me, holding me together. Tethers to the parts of myself that I don't want to lose.

There is absolutely NOTHING WRONG with adding your pop culture fixations to your craft or to your path as your path helps to define you as a whole. These medias that you enjoy help to define you too. You see yourself in the characters, their struggles, their triumphs; their stories. It is natural to want and crave those characteristics for yourself, add them to your path or even celebrate them.

Ancient Greeks wanted the Strength of Ares, the Wisdom of Athena, the Beauty of Aphrodite. Were they not also stories that were told and are still told to this day? One of my personal beliefs for Pop Culture Paganism and the worship of Pop Culture entities as deities is that you just have to believe. Belief is part of what makes the magic real, what makes it happen.

-oOo-

Pop Culture MAGIC is something a little different but I do that over on my @pokemonmagic account more where I would utilize Pokemon for all the magical aspects they can provide to my craft as a whole~!

Some more great links and discussions about these topics can be found with these lovely people's posts!

Pop Culture Paganism & God Theory -@the-broken-stones Creating your own Pantheon - @thiscrookedcrown How I created my Pantheon Source Specific Pop Culture Paganism

Thanks for sending this in I hope it makes sense, please feel free to send in more if you'd like to keep talking about it!

Other Pop Culture Pagans feel free to chime in!

#Thanks for sending this in!#Pop Culture Paganism #Storm's Ramblings #I hope this made sense #I might have misinterpreted the post #Sorry to any hellenic worshipers I might have pissed off #Y'all the real MVPS

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

One Way or Another

Series Masterlist

Warnings: dark elements but nothing too graphic in this one.

Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

Your last exam is over and you feel a sense of freedom lurking ahead. You can't be certain until you get your grades but with all your effort, you can't imagine you'll fall short. Now you have the whole holiday to recover. Well, you only hope it's refreshing.

Your dorm feels eerily empty so you happily hop at Jensen’s text. He still has a few roommates hanging around so you suggest he comes over. You tidy frantically, trying to hide the remnants of your studious sloth.

When he gets there, you have Netflix mindlessly playing. There's a giddiness to meeting without the lurking stress of classes or exams. No worries, just each other.

You sit on your desk chair as he admires the amiibo collection on your shelf. He sucks his teeth and turns to you with a suspicious leer.

"You didn't tell me had the special edition Link with his mastersword…" he drawls accusatorily.

"Oh, did you ask?" You stick your tongue out.

He rolls his eyes and spins, sitting heavily on your coverlet, the pattern of blue flowers on white, adding an extra dainty effect to your room, a stark contrast to his nerd cave.

"So…" he wiggles his eyebrows as he rubs the bedspread beside him.

"So," you put on a sultry tone and grin, "I thought we could do something special," you stand as seductively as you know how. It feels more awkward than sexy. "A very, very special and intimate thing…"

His eyes round as you come close and put your hands on his shoulders. You feel him tense and flex as you climb onto his lap. You straddle him and run your thumbs along his sideburns. You pull him into a kiss, slipping a taste of your tongue before you part and flutter your lashes.

"Grocery shopping!" You chime and he croaks, stifling a whimper.

"Grocery shopping?" He gulps.

"Uh huh! We can go amd pick out everything we need for or little holiday dinner and then we can come back a play some Mariokart. You said you'd bring your switch right?"

"Mariokart…" he chokes out, shifting under you, hands tentative on your hips.

"And maybe some snuggles," you giggle and lean in, kissing him deeper.

His hand shoot up your back, latching onto your neck as he keeps you from escaping again. He falls back with you but cries out as his teeth sink into your lip. You rip away from him as he touches the back of his skull where he knocked it off the wall.

You dab your lip and laugh, it's painfully fun.

"Hope you don't mind closer quarters," you tease as he pushes himself up.

"With you… the better? Is the shower big?" He winks.

"Alright, alright," you pat his chest and climb off him as you blush, "one thing at a time, let's make a list…"

"Can't we do this tomorrow?"

"The longer we wait, the busier it'll be. And besides, once we're back, I don't wanna go anywhere," you turn back and send him a look, "just you and me Jen. I wanna enjoy every second."

He huffs and clears his throat, shimmying closer to the edge. He tugs at the top of his jeans and you snatch up your phone as he adjusts his perch on the bed. Maybe it is a bit cruel but you can't help but feel flattered by his squirming.

📚

Your cart isn’t full. You don’t have much of a budget to stretch and a very economical list. Boxed stuff and turkey legs instead of the full to-do, some veggies you can manage to cook in your measly collection of pots, some cranberry sauce all for you since Jensen doesn’t enjoy it, and some buns.

“Just need to find the perfect pie,” Jensen says as he leans on the handle of the cart, “cherry?”

“Uh, pumpkin, duh.”

“Pumpkin, really?” He scowls.

“Hey, are you gonna shoot down all my suggestions?”

“Who says we can’t compromise… apple?”

“Fine, apple– oh, I forgot some more tea. I’m out of bags. Why don’t you go get in line and I’ll run to get that.”

“I don’t mind, you know I’ll follow you wherever,” he smirks crookedly.

“As cute as you are, I don’t want the checkout to get any more hectic,” you glance over at the dozen lanes open and binging.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You can survive without me,” you squeeze his arm, pausing to feel his thick bicep. Oh.

“Went up a weight set,” he gloats as he stands straight and bends his arm to emphasize his muscle, “I’ll let you have a closer look later.”

“Please, tone it down,” you shake your head.

“Says the one feeling me up in the pastry section,” he tuts, “I’ll go and brave the hordes.”

“Right,” you scoff and leave him.

As you turn, you nearly run into another shopper. The place is buzzing with the pre-holiday crowds. You dodge and sneak between two tables of discount sugar cookies.

You head along the dairy section, the refrigeration chilling you through your unzipped jacket, and you weave between carts and bodies. You dip down the coffee section and wait for a couple to move out of the way of the tea. You toe in and peruse the labels, looking for your exact brand and leaf.

You find the tag but the spot is empty. Of course! It’s always gone. You frown and search for an alternative. At the very top shelf, you see the reserves. You peak the purple label of your tea. You just need to reach it.

You stand on your toes and stretch out, leaning to grasp for air. Another hand swoops up and grabs the box with ease. You wince and put your feet flat, glancing over at the helpful stranger as he holds out the tea.

“Thanks, I–”

The box moves out of your reach as you come face to face with Professor Rogers. You take a step back, hitting someone else, only to inch back towards the last person you expected or wanted to see. You almost pout as he gives a thought look to the tea.

“Huh, English Breakfast, I would’ve guessed Earl Grey,” he remarks as his blue eyes flick up.

“Professor,” you utter.

“Got a big dinner planned?” He asks, his tone gristly as his glare bores into you.

“Not really,” you lie and turn back to the shelf, “uh, sorry, I thought… I was just grabbing this.”

You grab the yellow box of cheap orange pekoe but before you can flee, he grips your arm, holding you in place as he leans in. You shudder as his breath fans over you as he bends to nuzzle your hair.

“I know you’re with him. Playing fucking house. Enjoy the game while it lasts,” he growls, “cause I’m not playing any more.”

He lets you go as you tear away from him and you nearly topple over. You sputter and look around for some help. Everyone else is too entranced by their own lists and hunts for the next item.

“Get away,” you hiss.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters under his breath as he drops the box in his basket, “you’re not worth that much trouble. But one day you’ll be alone. Or you’ll think are…”

He slowly pivots and puffs out his chest. He lets out a snicker and you see the flicker in his face, like a shadow passing over. It flies away and he reaches past an older woman to grab the bag of sugar she’s straining for.

“Allow me, miss,” he says to her adoring gaze.

You don’t stick around to see the performance. You know what Professor Rogers is and you know that now that he’s shown you, there’s nothing holding him back.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #professor!steve #college au #one #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel

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mostlikelythedevil · 1 year

Text

Only Love Can Hurt (Like This) | {Part One}

Pairing(s): Kevin Owens x Fem!Zayn!Reader, Solo Sikoa x Fem!Zayn!Reader

Warning(s): Explicit Language, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content (Fem! Receiving, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, etc.)

Word Count: 3,325

Chapter Summary: The Reader gets a message from an unsaved number in the middle of the night, and she chooses to investigate against her better judgement.

Link(s): AO3, Masterlist

Note(s): I’ve been considering doing some AU content for the Haunted Universe to show what could have been, so this is going to be a ficlet on one of many! This one is going to be two parts, so be sure to keep an eye out for part two! To be clear: this is not canon to Haunted, and it is not necessary to have read Haunted to understand what’s going on. I also feel the need to add that any grammatical errors are intention as I feel the fic reads better raw rather than polished. Let me know what you think!

Tag(s): @crowleysqueenofhell @raeluvshammett

The message comes chiming sometime after midnight.

Solo, in his sleep, tightens his grip on the covers beside you; your brother does not stir in his bed, nor do the two twins who sleep on the pull-out couch. It still surprises you that your brother would allow you to sleep in the same bed as a man who you hardly know; yet, sleeping with him would be awkward and uncomfortable, and the twins insisted that you have a bed to sleep in rather than the pull-out. So, Solo was the logical option; besides, you liked him well enough after getting to know him for the last month — maybe a bit too much. It doesn’t matter.

Part of you doesn’t want to know who would be messaging you at such a late hour — and yet, here you were, climbing out of bed with the gentlest of movements to cross the room. Your phone lights up on your approach, blinding you with the bright light of your background — a picture of you with Sami. In a panic, trying to turn the brightness down, you bump against the dresser it rests on. Solo stirs in bed for a moment before settling on his back, facing the ceiling; once again, the others do not move at all in the night.

“Can we talk?” The message reads, an unknown number on your notification wall.

In your throat, you feel an awful, nervous tightness. Who would be messaging you, this late at night, wanting to talk — especially if it was someone too insignificant to save to your phone? There were few people that would bother messaging you that weren’t already in the room with you, less that didn’t have their own numbers saved in your phone under some nickname.

You consider deleting the message and crawling back into the comfort of the bed; tomorrow is going to be a long, eventful day, after all. Wonder, though, at the mystery person behind the message, keeps you standing in the middle of the hotel room like an idiot — and you can only hope that no-one wakes to question what the hell you’re doing out of bed at such a late hour.

“Who is this?” Shaking are your fingers as you send the message.

“Room 203, the floor under you. Don’t wake up your friends,” the message reads, lighting up your screen within seconds of your response. You frown. “Delete these messages for both our sake.”

Stomach churning, you glance around the room at the men sleeping; none of them had moved in the time it had taken to read your phone, and someone — who you believe to be Sami — is snoring softly. There is no reason that you couldn’t sneak out of the room and back before anyone noticed; yet, you’re not even sure you want to go. This could be some kind of set-up, some psychopath trying to hurt you in the middle of the night with all evidence gone.

Carefully, you unplug your phone and grab the robe that you left on the other side of the dresser. You toss it over your shoulders, pulling it in close against you; you were decent in your tank-top and shorts, but you would prefer not to be seen roaming the hotel corridors in search of someone. The more cover you had, the less likely it would be for someone to recognize you from afar — you hope.

Once more, you find yourself looking around the room. Sami is turned away from the door, still snoring, and Solo remains comfortably on his back; the two twins cannot be seen from so close to the door, but you suppose one of them would have sat up if they were awake.

Something about this feels so wrong.

Yet you find yourself opening and closing the door behind you with quiet haste.

The hotel corridor is clear of anyone else, which is of little surprise considering the hour. Still, though, it is bright — too bright, too obvious if someone were to see you. Instead of the elevator, you aim for the stairwell, walking with your shoulders hunched and as close to your head as possible. God, why did you feel as if you were betraying the people you had sworn yourself to?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear a door opening. You dart into the stairwell, chest heaving with excitement and anxiety all bundled into one, and descend with quick, deliberate steps. It’s darker here, and the echo is a bit loud, so you do what you can both to not trip and to remain quiet at such a fast pace.

You find yourself on the floor below your room, sticking your head precariously out of the stairwell door. No-one roams the corridor, just as no-one had above. The room number directly across from the stairwell is 215; you would need to walk down the corridor a fair amount before reaching your destination. A fresh wave of butterflies invade your stomach as you inch into the corridor, making haste toward your destination.

“213, 211, 209, 207, 205…” Your breath hitches outside of Room 203.

Who, or what, could be awaiting you behind the ordinary hotel door?

Knock. Knock.

Tense moments pass by without answer, and a wave of humiliation washes over you. This was some kind of cruel trick — or worse, a test from Roman that you failed without question. You huff, glancing around you for someone lying in wait; no-one awaits you, though, and you begin back to the stairwell. On the bright side, with the little time you had been gone, you could stop at the vending machine as an excuse to your absence had any of the boys had noticed.

Just as you turn away from the door, it opens. You look back, seeing no-one waiting to greet you; instead, you can see the faint glow of the television in the corner of the room. Dread fills you, and you truly consider running for a moment; you don’t, though, fool that you are, and you carefully inch yourself into the hotel room.

As you step into the room, the door is closed behind you, and you feel another wave of nauseating dread fill you as you step forward and away from the person behind you. In front of you, the television is paused on a moment from the latest Monday Night RAW; to be precise, it is paused at the exact moment that Kevin Owens walked out to address Roman Reigns — though the camera focuses on the distraught flash that crosses your expression.

“What the fuck,” you murmur, looking around the room, but not yet behind you.

The room itself is quite clean, save for a shirt laid across the bed. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust enough to the faint glow of the television being the only light in the room, but as soon as you’re able, you take a few steps closer to the bed to investigate the clue purposely left behind for you.

Just Keep Fighting

Your heart drops to your stomach.

And, yet, part of you knew. Why else would you be so stupid?

“I already hadn’t been sleeping well,” the deep sound of his tired voice reverberates around the room, encompassing you in the same intoxicating way that it had before. He’s somewhere behind you, and he’s all around you at once. “Re-watching Monday night, though, I saw that, on the T.V, and I haven’t been sleeping very much at all since.”

You continue to stare down at the shirt, stomach churning. “You did that.”

He sighs. You can hear him running his hands through his hair. “I know,” his voice is so soft it makes your heart weep, “and that’s why I asked you to come. I want to talk about it.”

You stand in silence.

“I know that a lot has happened in the month since,” you can hear him step closer to you as he speaks, “but I need you to know that I regret going about things the way that I did. I was scared.”

“Scared?” The question comes naturally quite distrusting.

He chuckles, all tired and almost loving. “Scared of fucking things up; the truth is that I started to feel something for you before you told me you had feelings for me, and I knew I couldn’t act on anything because you’re Sami’s sister,” he takes another step closer, “but hearing you admit your feelings… I didn’t think I could pretend I didn’t share those feelings. I lashed out because I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You expect me to believe that,” his smell engulfs you, fuzzing your thoughts.

“It’s the truth.” His hand brushes your elbow, a silent plea for you to face him. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, standing to your side, head low and shirtless. God, you’ve been staring at his shirt.

You turn, slow and deliberate.

The bags under Kevin’s eyes are the first thing you notice, even in the lack of light; he certainly wasn’t lying about not sleeping well for days. Next, you see just how bloodshot his eyes are — not to mention the puffy pink surrounding them. He’s been torturing himself with that video, it seems. God, you want to believe it. Believe him. How can you, though? After what he said?

He reaches out to you experimentally, gently grabbing your elbow when you don’t move away. He pulls you to him, closer and closer, until you’re practically touching. His hand remains gentle on your elbow as he stares down at you, tired. It occurs to you that maybe he’s searching your eyes for something, but the only thing you can really focus on is the heat radiating off of his body.

You have to get out of here.

“I need to go,” you break your gaze, eyes settling on the floor.

“You could stay here,” his whisper is that of a begging man, “you don’t have to go back to them. We can— we can fix things, build something here.”

You shake your head, pulling away. “No, you went too far.”

His grip tightens on your elbow, not allowing you to leave but not painful. “I’m sorry.”

Tears bubble in your eyes, but you refuse to let him see that. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

You scoff.

His free hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s gentle, but firm. A tear trickles stubbornly from your eye, down your cheek, and onto the hand. His eyebrows furrow, and his gaze is so sickeningly sweet. He’s never been so sweet. God, why the fuck is this happening? You have a family now. You don’t need him.

The warmth of his lips on your own and your eyes fluttering closed beg to differ.

His kiss is bruising — hungry yet so very tender, and not all at once. His hand on your chin falls to your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your hands come to rest on his bare, warm chest. Warmth pools deep in your stomach — a contentedness you have craved for so long. His bare skin is so warm against you, engulfing you in the best and worst embrace you will ever have in your life.

Your lips move in sync with his own; a beautiful, intricate dance of two souls melding. And yet, tears flow freely down your cheeks. You know you cannot stay; you will not stay, not after everything, no matter how sorry he claimed to be. But this, this is something that you can allow yourself just this once.

“I won’t let them take you from me, not again,” he murmurs half to himself as he breaks your kiss, mouth coming down on your neck in peppering kisses. The heat of his kiss burns — a bittersweet memory for later.

His name comes to your lips, but you cannot bring yourself to say it. You don’t want to ruin the façade that you have going; this is a dream, a bittersweet dream, and nothing more — saying his name would make it too real. Your heart can’t take that.

A sweet, soft mewl leaves your throat when he bites down on your neck, suckling and lapping at the skin caught between his teeth. He’s going to leave a mark. You’ll be in for a lot of trouble if someone sees it. And yet, you cry out in delight when he bites down harder, harsher. It’s a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, scorching your skin. You don’t care that it could be your downfall.

Your hands grip at his chest, squeezing and appreciating the warm, soft muscles. He’s always been so strong, yet so soft. He was made by the gods, you’d always been convinced of it — a marble statue meant to tempt. And tempt he did as his bite turned once more to peppering kisses, littering your skin with flames of passion all the way down to your navel.

He looks up at you, eyes holding devilish thoughts with the most angelic presentation. His chest heaves up and down, overwhelmed with you, with the situation. Your breathing matches his. You nod, granting him the silent consent he desperately needed. All at once, you were lifted and laid on his bed, shirt bunched up beneath you.

His hands, now given permission, are greedy, kneading at your skin with such force it’s a wonder you don’t bruise on the impact. He pulls at your shorts, peppering your hips with his flames. His mouth moves to your covered mound, kissing and biting so gently — teasing. Eyes find your own as he takes your panties in his teeth, pulling, pulling, pulling. His beard scratches and tickles at your thighs the lower he goes.

“Please,” the word slips from you, so quiet and yet a shout in the otherwise silent room.

Slow and wet is his tongue against your skin, licking a stripe up your cunt. A moan bubbles through your throat, back arching into the air at the sensation. Fingers entangle themselves in his short hair, scratching at his scalp. He smiles against your skin, licking another stripe and another and another before he comes down hard on your clit. His tongue swirls, flattened against your skin, and your head swirls with it.

One hand digs into your thigh, bruising the flesh beneath his fingers; the other hand snakes up your other thigh, toying with the lips of your cunt. He laughs when you groan at the lack of stimulation. Two of his fingers circle your hole as he sucks hard on your clit, and you think you’re going to come undone, but the sensation of his fingers stretching you is what sends you over the edge. He smells too good, feels too good, and you’ve dreamed of this.

His fingers pump against your walls, scissoring and swirling and pushing. His bite is on your thigh, marking you through your orgasm. You whine, pulling at his hair. He looks up at you, eyes hooded with absolute lust. His fingers leave you. You go to whine again, but it catches in your throat when you see that he’s undressing. Slowly, his cock bounces from his shorts, landing heavy against his lower stomach.

Is this really happening?

He climbs on top of you, propped up by his hands. He stares down into your eyes, a soft, loving look engulfing him. You’re not quite sure what you look like now; wide-eyed, in awe, possibly upset? It could be anything. You’re not sure how to feel after all, but you know that this is something that you want.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he presses his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt. It burns deliciously. He grits his teeth together as he tries to control himself. Shallow, sweet thrusts follow. He kisses you, sweet and chaste, but you do not need his sweet; you need him to fuck you, just this once, nice and hard so that you’ll never forget him.

He seems to catch onto your need after a few seconds, thrusting harder, harder, harder until you’re nearly screaming underneath him. He’s growling, an animal above you, cursing and muttering all of the nasty things he wanted to do to you, speech so slurred you can’t quite make out anything he’s saying. His knuckles are white, hands tangled in the covers of his bed, holding on for some kind of grip. He decides your hips are more suitable, moving his bruising grip to them, using your body against his.

Your body shakes beneath him, and you see nothing more than black and stars, gone to the world in ecstasy. He collapses down onto you, heaving, thrusting with all of the power in him. He’s so heavy, but it feels like heaven against your burning skin. He turns, pulling you with him, thrusting into your tired cunt with enough force to lift you off of him. He growls, coating your walls with his own orgasm. His body shakes beneath yours.

His arms wrap around you, holding you down against his chest. You relish in the moment, closing your eyes, trying to catch your own breath. He kisses your hair, so very tender and sweet.

“I love you,” and the dreaming is gone.

You sigh, pushing yourself into a sitting position. You look down at him, and he looks up at you with his own kind of love in his eyes. Unfortunately, his love comes far, far too late.

“You can’t mention this to anyone,” you say, climbing off of him despite his hands reaching to bring you back down to him. “If it gets out, we’re both going to be in for it.”

“You’re leaving.” He states, the hurt in his voice palpable.

You nod. “I told you this wouldn’t be— we can’t fix what happened. Not now, maybe not ever,” you work yourself back into your panties and shorts as you speak.

He frowns. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t— but that’s not the only reason I’m not staying,” you turn away from him, “I can’t leave them behind now. They’re family.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he scoffs.

“I’m not. I care about them. They were there for me when you weren’t,” you snap, walking to the door. “Goodbye, Kevin.”

You open and close the door before Kevin can say anything more — before you can lose your senses to him yet again. If you were to stay, to allow him to speak to you, to feel him all around you, you wouldn’t go back to your family; he was the devil, and he could persuade you to do anything he wanted, even that, even now.

No-one is in the bright, blinding light of the corridor, and you are beyond thankful for that. Your steps are less cautious as you make your way to the stairwell, leaking the remnants of Kevin into your panties with each step; you want nothing more than to get back into your hotel room to wash the deed away, to hide your misdoings against your brothers.

Again, your footsteps echo up the stairwell — and again, there is no-one there to hear them.

You step out onto your floor, pleasantly surprised at the lack of life around; the guilt, for the time being, is less because there is no-one around to expose you for what you’ve done.

When you reach the door to your hotel room, you carefully inch it open and sneak inside. No-one is awake, it seems, and no-one stirs as you enter the room. Sami snores peacefully on his back; the twins are out of sight; and Solo— where the hell is Solo?

“You thought you was slick sneaking out, didn’t you?”

#WWE #WWE Imagine #WWE Smut #Sami Zayn #Jimmy Uso #Jey Uso #Kevin Owens #Kevin Owens Imagine #Kevin Owens Smut #Solo Sikoa #Solo Sikoa Imagine #Also on AO3 #Haunted: AU #OLCHLT: Part One #OLCHLT: Part 1

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wednesdaymunson · 10 months

Text

Marked for Death

This is a request from @winchestergirl87-blog. I'm so sorry that I'm just now finishing this. Life happened, brain stopped working lol. I hope you like this. I tried to make it a one shot, but for some reason it's hard for me to do those lol.

Kas!Eddie x Fem!Slayer!Reader

Summary: Something strange is afoot in the town of Eerie, IN. Missing towns people, murders, and creepy creatures. Reader and BFF Oliver can't figure out what's going on. Things calm down and a hot rocker dude pulls into town, stopping by the family store.

Warnings: murder, alcohol, some fluff, death, abuse. I think that's about it. This is pretty tame so far.

A/n: This is set 37 years after what happened in Hawkins. One of Kas' powers is being able to read minds through touching hands, and he's able to walk in the sunlight because his guitar pick is enchanted. Traditional vampire rules, must be invited in, heightened senses. I also created a playlist to help me write this.

Everything around is so desolate. You ran to your grandma's house…you think. It looks like your grandma's house but everything is drab. There's a bunch of vine-like things sprawling everywhere and particles floating in the air. You cautiously walk around the house. The chime of a grandfather clock sounds and you quickly turn around to face a grotesque monster. You couldn't place him, he appeared to be a humanoid, but not something you've ever seen before. The clock chimes again so loud waking you up.

Your eyes snapped open, your chest visibly rising and falling. You quickly sat up, you could still hear the echo of the chime faintly in your ears. You frantically looked around your room making sure nothing was out of place. You fell back into your bed and pulled the covers over your head and let out a deep sigh.

"Y/N, it was just a dream..a weird one, but you're fine." You say out loud.

You peeked your head out from under the covers. There was a beam of sunlight breaking through the side of the curtain. By the looks of it and the sounds outside it had to be at least 11:30 am. You had been out late chasing leads on a possible demon. There had been a slew of murders in your town and from the information you got from the coroner, these weren't committed by a person. Part of you feels like they may be linked to the random disappearances of some of the locals.

You had come across something in a tree trunk that looked like a festering wound. You snapped a shot of it to send to your roommate. As you kept investigating you heard some twigs snap. You quickly turned around and saw some humanoid beast — it didn't resemble the one from your dream, but scary nonetheless.

"🎶 I am human and I need to be loved. Just like everyone else does🎶"

"Fuuuuck!" You breathed.

You forgot to turn your ringer off before you left the house. You quickly found yourself in the line of sight of the monster…. 'Can this thing even see me??' You thought. It made a few clicking sounds before unfurling its head to reveal a horrifying mouth, letting out a loud screech. You were already about faced running back towards your car. Once you reached it, you took a second to look back. It didn't seem like it followed you, but you quickly got in and left.

You finally dragged yourself out of bed and grabbed your robe. You slouched down the long hallway where pictures and paintings of family and ancestors donned the walls. You were from a long line of slayers. Your family, along with others, have been fighting monsters for centuries all across the world, making sure to keep balance. It wasn't a whole family affair, some retired, some died while on a case, and others simply wanted no part and distanced themselves. Slayer life could be lonely at times, but you were lucky enough to have your best friend along for the ride.

You and Oliver met freshman year of high school and bonded over all things horror. He was one of the smartest kids in school, but he never liked being there and didn't see the point in it. He eventually dropped out junior year. He was a jack of all trades, but to say he was a master of none would be a bold face lie. Anything he put his mind to, he could conquer. When he found out that you joined the family business and knew you needed help, he was in, no questions asked.

"Good morning, sunshine. I made coffee and got us bagels. I've been doing research on what could possibly be behind all this shit that's going on here in Eerie and I can't fucking figure it out. I may have to reach out to some of the surrounding covens and The Dead Rouges." Oliver explained without looking up from his laptop.

"Ollie.. How long have you been up?" Your brows furrowed.

"Y/N, bold of you to assume I actually slept. I tried, but I couldn't. I've been researching all night and doing some coding. I also finished a few theses, so the bills are paid for the month, and we have enough money for groceries and necessities." Oliver peered over his screen.

"Oh! Look at my hard-working man! Bringing home the bacon while he lets his beautiful girl pursue her dreams." You joked

"Y/N, you know I don't have an issue with paying for things. You're my best friend, and we're in this til the end, but you have to have a backup plan after you're done with this. You should really think about hiring one or two people to run the store while you're out there saving the world." Oliver sighed.

"Ollie, you and I both know I'm not making it to retirement. I'm pretty sure I'll join the 27 club." You let out a sad chuckle.

"You're not leaving me here by myself! You're going to be old and gray when you die!" He exclaimed.

"How can I be of service to you, Lord Vecna?" Kas asked grimly.

Years had passed since Eddie was left in the upside-down with one foot in the grave. There is where Vecna found him and made him a vampire, creating him a new identity, Kas the Bloody Handed. He grew into the name, but there was still a bit of Eddie left tucked away.He is now the lieutenant in Vecna's army.

"Hmm? Ah, yes. There is this girl…a slayer. She's been meddling into my plans. I've decided to pull back and recalculate, until she's out of the way. Kas, I need you to get rid of our little pest." Explained Vecna.

"Yeah? What are we talking about?"

"Be creative if you want. I just want her life force to cease."

"Understood."

Since the disappearances and killings stopped, there wasn't much to investigate locally, and it was pretty quiet in other regions. You took up what Oliver suggested and hired two people to help run the store, Lydia and Harvey. They were knowledgeable in several music genres, alternative fashion, and even some of the other types of products in the shop. Because you had a lot of down time, you started to let your guard down and had a routine going. Kas was tracking your every move.

It was a slow Saturday night like always, and you had 30 minutes to kill. You decided to take a smoke break out front. You stepped outside and felt the warm summer breeze blow against your face. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.

"Nice night, isn't it?" You heard a voice.

You quickly opened your eyes to see a guy who seemed to be stuck in the 80s, possibly early 90s. He had chocolate brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair.. He sported a gorgeous smile that revealed dimples. He was carrying a guitar case on his back. You also noticed his obsidian guitar pick pendant around his neck. If you had to guess, he was definitely a musician —one of your top three types that made your brain turn to mush with all logical thinking gone out the window.

"Oh, yeah! I love nights like this. I used to take this weather for granted until I worked a few summers down south." You smiled nervously.

He returned the smile. Even though he kept close tabs on you, he hadn't been close enough to really get a good look at you. He could tell you were conventionally attractive from afar, but now that he was up close, he was awestruck. He was almost at a loss for words, but he knew what he was here to do.

"I saw this place on my way into town. I figured I'd stop in to take a look after I got settled in. I'm Kas, by the way." He gave a toothy grin as he extended his hand.

"Y/N, nice to meet you." You took his ring clad hand to shake.

Kas was able to read your thoughts as soon as he took your hand in his. 'Ugh, this guy is so hot! Like, is he even real?! Girl, calm down!'

If Kas could blush, he would have. He didn't have great luck with girls when he was Eddie. Once he became a vampire, finding love was no longer important. He came to terms that he would roam the upside-down and all conquered worlds alone until the end of time. He didn't let your thoughts cloud his mind. He was here to kill you and nothing more.

You noticed his touch was like ice as you quickly pulled back.

"Sorry, sometimes my hands tend to get cold due to being anemic." He explained with a nervous smile.

"Oh, no worries. Would you like to come in and take a look around? I have plenty of music, band merch, and tons of miscellaneous items."

Kas smiled to himself, thinking this was going to be easy. He didn't have to ask to be invited in, and you believed the anemic excuse. You were practically serving yourself on a silver platter for him.

"Sooo you’re giving off a 80’s metal head vibe." Your eyebrow raised.

"Well, you got that right."He chuckled.

"Awesome! Not sure if you're a collector or not, but I have something you may like. I only bring this out for the right people, but no one has cared to take it off my hands. Stay right here!" You run to the back to rummage through a closet.

You came back and laid out a shirt on the counter for Kas.

"Vintage 1985 Metallica 'Ride The Lightning' tour shirt. Tour dates on the back."

Kas turned the shirt over and found the date for Indiana. A smile came to his face as the memories came flooding back.

"This.. this was a great show." He whispered.

"Oh? Kas, you don't look a day over 23. There's no way you're in your 50s. If so, I need your skin care routine." You joked.

Kas didn't realize he said that out loud. He had to think quickly.

"Oh! Haha, no. I meant it in a second-hand experience way. My uncle Wayne went to this show, and he would tell me every chance he got about how amazing it was." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How much do you want for it?" He asked.

"Hmm…just take it. The price I'm asking for, no one wants to pay, and it'll just keep on collecting dust. Maybe you can give it to your uncle." You smiled.

"Thanks! I..I would, but unfortunately, he passed a few years ago. I'm actually on my way to Hawkins to visit his grave and see a few friends. I thought I'd stop here for a few days to veg out beforehand."

"Oh…I just assumed.. I'm sorry for your loss. Hawkins? I've never heard of that town."

" S' okay, he went peacefully. Oh.. it's a real small town west of here. You blink and you'll miss it type of place." He explained.

"Ah, okay. Well, Kas, it's getting late and I need to close up. You're more than welcome to stop by tomorrow if you want to look around some more."

"Oh! I'm sorry for keeping you! I didn't realize it was getting late. Yeah, I'll definitely come back to look around." He winked.

"See ya, Y/N." Kas walked out the door, got in his van, and headed back to the motel."

He got distracted by the shirt and the kind gesture from you. He completely forgot what he came to do. He was really wanting to make this quick, but another day in Eerie wouldn't hurt.

When he got settled into bed, the memories of Hawkins came rushing back. He hated the town, but he missed Wayne, his friends, and Corroded Coffin. Unfortunately, Wayne did actually pass away, heart attack on the job. Everyone he knew moved away and went into hiding, and every so often, Kas would visit them unbeknownst to them. He wanted to make sure they were okay. They were all doing fine, living lowkey lives. Hawkins didn't exist anymore, just a shell of its former self.

Then you ran across his mind. When he closed his eyes, a vivid picture of your face popped up. He could still hear your voice. Out of all your features, he was fixated on your lips. The thought of kissing them quickly ran across his mind. He let out a hiss as his fangs protruded.

'Kas! You're here on business! Pull yourself together! She's nothing to you, just another body to add.'

'Body.. her body. I wonder…'

Kas grabbed a book from his bag to help get his mind off you. It helped, several pages in, his lids got heavy, and he fell asleep. Of course, you were the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

When you got home Oliver was in the living room finishing up a movie. He had asked you how your day was and you went into full detail about your run in with Kas.

"Ollie, he's soooo gorgeous! There's just something about him that I can't quite put my finger on, but I don't get a bad vibe at all!" You squealed with excitement.

"So he's originally from a town called Hawkins that neither of us have ever heard of? Where does he live now?" Oliver asked.

"Umm, I didn't ask?" You grimaced.

"Well, be careful, Y/N." he sighed.

"I'm always careful, Ollie." You smirked.

It was noon the next day. The store was a madhouse. You forgot that the store was holding its annual sale. Really good deals and discounts and some customers would even barter with rare items you were looking for. You had to call Oliver to help out where he could.

You found yourself leaning over the glass counter as your anxiety started to kick in. The door chimed for the millionth time that day. You heard his voice. It was calm and centering. You looked up to meet his gaze.

"Hey, Y/N, it's really crazy in here. You alright?" Kas asked.

"Oh, hey! Umm yes…no. I forgot today was our big sale, but this has been the busiest it's ever been…a bit overwhelming for me right now." You explained with worry in your voice.

"Hmm, have you had lunch? Do you need a break? I can kidnap you if you want? Just say the word." Kas lowered his voice as he leaned in close to you.

"Who's your new friend?" Oliver asked, emerging from the sea of customers.

"Ollie, this is Kas. Kas, this is my roommate and best friend Oliver."

"Nice to meet you, Kas." Oliver gave a slight smile.

"Hey Ollie, I'm going to take lunch. You got this, yeah? "

"Yeah, sure thing, Y/N. Oliver sighed.

You grabbed Kas’ arm and practically dragged him out the door.

“Where to now? What are you hungry for, sweetheart?” Kas inquired.

“Sweetheart,huh?” You giggled.

“Sorry, just a slip of the tongue. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all.” You gave a toothy smile with warm cheeks.

“There’s a Burger Barn down the road. They have the best chili cheese fries and cherry limeade."

"Then Burger Barn it is! Hop in sweetheart. You can be the navigator." Kas winked.

"Dude, I get you aren't hungry, but I can't believe you ate at the motel's café and lived!"

"Haha, it was edible. I'll be okay." Kas chuckled.

Truth was, he was starting to get hungry. He hadn't fed since the night before last. He was starting to regret not killing you last night. He would be back in the upside-down and full as a tick. He started to wonder what you would taste like.

"Earth to Kas! Hey, buddy, snap outta it!" You clapped your hands in front of his face.

"Sorry.” He shook his head.

“You good, Kas?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You ready to get back to work?”

“Nope, but alas I have to go back. The store needs me." You pouted.

"Thank you, Kas. I really appreciate your kind gesture in the store."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

"Hey, Kas… I know you're not here for long, and we barely know each other, but…would you like to come over later and…maybe.. watch a movie or listen to some music?" You looked down, pulling at the loose hem on your shirt.

Kas tilted your chin up with his forefinger and thumb to meet your eyes.

"I would actually like that. I'll tell you my whole life story and you can tell me yours. I'm sure you have some interesting things to tell me. " He grinned.

'She's so fucking gorgeous…. If only this was a different time..' Kas thought to himself.

"C'mon doll, let's get you back."

You gave Kas your address and number when he dropped you off. The crowd of customers had dwindled to a few people. You helped recover the store while Oliver was headed out to meet some friends. At 7, you left Harvey and Lydia to close. You thanked them and told them you'd see them tomorrow.

It was 8:30 when you heard a knock at the door. You practically ran to open it to greet Kas. You welcomed him in, gave him a small house tour.

"Would you like a beer or something else to drink?" You offered.

"A beer is fine." Kas nodded.

You grabbed a few beers and headed to the living room, both choosing a seat at opposite ends of the couch. Kas had asked you to introduce him to some new music so you put on a Spotify playlist for him. You shared a few random facts with every song. He listened to and watched you intently, noticing how your face came to life and your eyes lit up.

"You're really into music, like into it, into it. You should pursue whatever you just did professionally." Kas smiled.

"Well, I wanted to create and write my own music magazine when I was in high school. I wrote about some of the local high school bands I knew and even did interviews with some. Unfortunately, the family business called, so here we are." You sighed.

"So the store is a family thing, yeah?"

"Hhmm? Oh! Yes, the store has been in my family for generations. It started as a general store, but my parents turned it into a music store in the 80s and then added the rest throughout the years." You explained nervously.

Kas could hear your heartbeat palpitating. He would have known that you were lying regardless if he already knew or not that you were a slayer.

"Well, I'm sure you could still do that. You still have time. You have a whole life ahead of you."

The words escaped his mouth before his brain had time to process what he said. He felt a bit of guilt after he realized. This was a new feeling for him as Kas as he didn't know what to think of it.

As the night went on, you found yourself sharing one of the saddest times in your life where you lost your grandma and your mother close together. Your grandmother was in her mid-90s, but she was just as vibrant as ever when she passed. Your mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. The doctors didn't give her much time to live. She stuck around for 7 years after the diagnosis, she said she didn't want to come back for unfinished business. They passed within 3 months of each other, and it was just a dark time for you. Luckily, you had Oliver to help you.

Kas shared Eddie's story of how he ended up living with Wayne. His father was a career criminal. He could never understand what his mom saw in his dad. He remembers the day that his father beat his mom into a coma in a drunken rage. His mother was trying to protect him from his father's abusive words that would sometimes become physical. He recalled times his father handed out corporal punishments for the most miniscule issues. His mother never woke from her coma, and by that point, Wayne was already in the process of becoming Eddie's guardian.

"Sorry, didn't mean to trauma dump on you and bring this night down." He apologized.

"You didn't bring anything down. Everyone needs someone to talk to. I just happen to be a great listener." You smiled.

"Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me."

There was silence. You both somehow migrated to the middle of the couch throughout the night. Your fingers found each other, yours gliding over his. Your thoughts were coming in like someone was changing stations on a radio. Kas' eyes met yours, and in that moment, he felt a calmness wash over him, and all he wanted to do was kiss you.

He brushed your heated cheek with his finger — his cold touch sent a shiver down your spine, making your body shudder. As Kas went to pull back his hand, you grabbed him by the wrist and placed his hand on your cheek.

"I like when you touch me. Please don't stop." You begged.

Kas swallowed hard.

"O..okay.."

For the first time in years, he was unsure of himself. He needed to kill you, but his need to taste you was greater. He leaned closer to your face — he was also solving math problems in his head in order for him to stay under control. Your lips crashed into each other, parted, inviting the other in. Kas pressed his body into yours while caressing the back of your neck, the other running up and down your thigh. Your whole body was buzzing with excitement.

Kas moved from your mouth to your neck. He gently kissed down the side, and you let out a breathy moan. Kas' eyes shot open, pupils dilated as soon as his fangs protruded. He quickly picked up where he left off in his head. When his fangs retracted right after, he sat back up and dared not to look you in the eyes.

"Kas, are you okay?"

"Y/N, thank you for inviting me over. I had a great time, but I need to leave."

He quickly got up from the couch and practically ran out the door to his van, not giving you a chance to call for him. You got up as soon as you could and ran to the door just to see the image of his tail lights getting smaller as he drove down the road.

When Kas got back to his room, he took a look in the mirror. Where deep chocolate brown eyes once were, pools of black and shimmering crimson took their place. He cursed at his reflection and then sent his fist into the mirror, sending a few shards onto the floor. He didn't want to feel this way. He should have ended you the first night at the shop. You didn't even notice he was there until he spoke, it would have been quick and easy. Kas quickly grabbed his belongings and left to Hawkins to put some miles in between you and him. Once he got there, he entered a gate to the upside-down and gathered himself. The next time he saw you, it would be your last day alive.

"Y/N! Wake up!" Oliver yelled, shaking you out of your sleep.

"What the fuck, Ollie? The house better be on fire." You mumbled.

You got up and met Oliver in the study. He paced back and forth. There was a folder on the desk.

"Open it."

"You woke me up for a folder?? This couldn't have waited until the morning, Oliver?"

"Y/N, I really need you to open this. I wouldn't wake you up for nothing."

"Alright, Ollie. You owe me breakfast if this is something that could have waited."

You opened the folder to find a missing person flyer from 1986. The person looked exactly like Kas, but the name read Edward Munson.

"Ollie,...wha.. what is this?"

"Y/N. I'm not sure. After you told me about Kas and Hawkins, I asked The Dead Rouges to see what they could find when I couldn't find much in the Black Hellfire archives. This is what they gave me. Something weird happened in March of 1986 in that town. There's names of friends listed there. Hawkins is a ghost town. It's not even listed on current maps anymore." He explained.

"This has to be like a family member, like his uncle Wayne."

"Look at the bottom, Y/N."

'Please contact Wayne Munson,' you read.

"This is definitely him, Y/N. I'm not sure how, but it is. Dead Rouges are still trying to get information on what happened in Hawkins and trying to locate his friends. Unfortunately, Wayne Munson passed away in 1995, so we can't ask him anything."

"This doesn't make sense."

"In our line of work, does anything really ever make sense?" Oliver chuckled nervously.

Your phone rang. You were hoping it was Kas, but when you picked up, it was a lieutenant that was at your store. A puzzled look came across your face, then panic set in. You hung up quickly and grabbed your keys.

"Ollie, I need you to drive to the store. Something bad happened." You tossed him the keys.

Oliver nodded and quickly did as he was told.

When you arrived at the store, there were flashing lights and cops everywhere. They had marked off the entrance of the store along with the sidewalk and a few parking spaces. You were greeted by Lieutenant Riley as you made your way to the crime tape.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I'm sorry to meet you under these conditions. There's no other way to put this, but there are two deceased people in the store. There's a lot of blood throughout it. This may have been a robbery that took a turn for the worst."

"Umm, are.. are they my employees? They should have closed up hours ago." You were fighting the lump in your throat and choking back tears.

"They're actually bringing them out now. Please come with me to identify the bodies, and we'll notify the next of kin." Lt. Riley motioned to the sidewalk.

The medical examiner was waiting for you while you were escorted to the sidewalk.

"Are you ready?" Asked Lt. Riley.

You sighed and nodded. They unzipped the body bags to reveal Lydia and Harvey. You weren't unfamiliar with death, but seeing their faces left you gasping for air. When you finally caught it, you let out a soul crushing wail. You hadn't known them for long, but you knew they were good people who had loved ones, they had a life outside this store. You mindlessly walked and pushed past the crime scene tape into the middle of the parking lot where you sat down and sobbed. This left Oliver to identify the bodies.

Oliver noticed that their throats were ripped to shreds. He didn't buy the robbery that went awry. The police will probably keep this under wraps like they always do. Luckily, you had a connection on the inside.

Oliver helped you up and got you to the car. It wasn't a long ride home, but it felt like years to get there. You and Oliver had a glass of bourbon to take the edge off.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. Are you going to be okay?"

"Honestly…no. They didn't deserve that. Did you notice? "

Oliver nodded.

"That was definitely a vampire attack, like one that hasn't fed for a while. I need to reach out to some other slayers and see if they're experiencing any activity."

"Already ahead of you. I also sent out the info we know to Dead Rouges, all the covens in a 100-mile radius. I even reached out to your dad."

"Ollie, we have a better chance catching bigfoot than hearing from that man."

"Yeah, well, we need to use all of our resources. Let's get to bed and start on this with a fresh mind tomorrow."

You give Oliver a nod in agreement.

"Hey, Ollie…can I sleep with you?"

"Of course." He gave a sad smile.

"C'mon, I'll let you have the right side."

That night sleep came to you quickly, but it wasn't restful. You tossed and turned while you dreamt of saving Lydia and Harvey. You couldn't see who attacked them, but you failed every way imaginable trying to save them. Once you accepted failure, you woke up in a cold sweat.

"What did you see?" A groggy Oliver asked.

You could tell you didn't let him get any sleep.

"I'm sorry, Ollie."

You paused for a moment.

"I couldn't save them, I tried every which way. I couldn't see who attacked them. I failed them." Your voice trembled.

Oliver pulled you closer to him.

"Shhh..let's not do that. You're a slayer…The Slayer. You fight now and mourn after. We have help, and I have someone reviewing all the recordings from the store surveillance."

"What would I do without you?" You sniffled.

"Oh, make very poor decisions, love. Now let's get some sort of rest. We have to be at our best for Lydia and Harvey. I feel like there's a whole can of worms we're about to open."

As soon as you closed your eyes, you drifted back to sleep. It was the most peaceful sleep you had in ages.

When you awoke, all the events of yesterday replayed in your head. You wanted to kick, scream, and cry. You forced yourself out of bed and did your morning routine before meeting Oliver in the kitchen.

Once you got to the kitchen, a strange, large man rose from the kitchen table. Oliver turned around and gave you a smile to assure you everything was okay.

"Y/N, this is Kane. I had him review the surveillance. He has some news for us."

"Good morn.." You glanced at the clock '1:30 pm'.

"Erm good afternoon, Kane. So tell us what you found please."

"I think it's best to show you." Kane suggested.

He opened his laptop and played the recording for you and Oliver.

"At first, I couldn't figure it out. The video just shows them acknowledging the door being opened, and then you see them both being attacked." Kane explained.

They looked like they were fighting the invisible man, being pulled around the store, blood splattering everywhere.

"I eventually saw a blur at the halfway mark. I ended up slowing this down. So let me click here right before with the slowed version."

As the frames played one by one, you finally saw who was behind this. You were shocked when Kas showed up on screen. You didn't want to believe it, but then everything else made sense. How could you have been so blind to not know?

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Oliver whispered as he hugged you.

"Friend?" Kane asked.

"Not anymore." You stormed off to your room.

Oliver took over operations while you stewed in your room.

You went from crying to raging and screaming to sitting in silence. This went on until you finally passed out, but before you did, you heard three loud chimes.

You found yourself in complete darkness.

'Hmm, looks like The Bloody Handed didn't complete his mission.' Vecna's disembodied voice rang in the darkness.

'Who are you?! What the fuck is going on?! Who the fuck is The Bloody Handed?!' You demanded.

Suddenly, Vecna appeared.

You recognized him immediately.

'You! You were in my dream!'

As soon as you take your fighting stance, you see the vine-like things from your dream emerge from Vecna. They quickly grab you around your wrist and ankle, suspending you in the air.

'What the fuck?! Put me down you fucking monstrous tumor!' You yelled, struggling to get loose.

Another one of those things covered your mouth.

'My, such a filthy mouth for such a beautiful girl. I didn't think your beauty would have been a distraction for my lieutenant…Kas The Bloody Handed. Obviously, he spent some time with you as well, or we wouldn't be here right now. Your town would have been taken over by the upside-down.'

Your eyes widen. You tried to fight harder to break free. Another one of Vecna's tentacles wrapped around your neck, slowly squeezing.

'As much as I want to kill you myself and have Kas witness what he couldn't finish, I cannot relieve him of his duty. Though I sense he no longer wants to be tasked with this, I'll have to remind him of who he is. And when that time comes, he will spill your blood, and I will experience great pleasure at that sight. '

'Sweet dreams, Slayer.'

Vecna released you, and your body dropped. As soon as you hit the floor, you woke up gasping for air in Oliver's arms.

"Y/N, what the hell happened? After Kane left, I heard you talking to someone, so I came in and saw you floating in the air like you were in a trance. What are these marks in your body? You okay??" Asked Oliver with brows knitted.

You quickly get up and examine yourself in the mirror. There are marks where Vecna held you and around your neck.

"This isn't just a can of worms, Ollie. I think we may have gotten ourselves into some serious shit." You turned towards Oliver.

"I'm with you to the end, Y/N."

Divider- @silkholland

#Spotify #eddie munson #kas the bloody handed #kas x slayer #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #kas!eddie #eddie munson x reader

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tunabesimpin · 11 months

Note

Hi! Here's my submission for the Tuna Sea-Side Party. (I wasn't certain how to link to a photo in an ask, so I hope the reference comes through ok).

Esher is an isekai'd pc from a high-fantasy dungeons and dragons campaign, so she's been spending most of the school year learning about how to even function in a more modern magical society, as well as concealing her own magical abilities as a warlock with a pact of the Archfey. She and Grim managed to scrape by in exams, and it was actually Grim that spotted the poster and insisted they go. Technically, Esher is the plus-one in this case lol.

Seeing as how Esher didn't even know what the ocean was before coming to Twisted Wonderland, she's pretty much learning what exactly one even does at a party like this on the fly. She was very surprised at the idea of wandering around in one's smallclothes, but since Rook helped her pick out a cute swimsuit (little black one-piece with a sheer black wrap) she's warmed to the idea. Vil was horrified enough to learn she didn't know what sunscreen was and made sure to foist that and a sunhat on her as well.

Her more competitive side will emerge when she is invited to join in on capture the flag, and she will spend more time than is entirely reasonable strategizing for the perfect victory (there may or may not be a battle map in the sand). Otherwise she'll spend her time trying to make sure Grim doesn't make himself sick with ice cream.

Thank you so much for hosting this event! I've been admiring your oc and art from afar for a little bit now and I love your blog! I hope I didn't make any mistakes with my submission, and I'm sorry it's also right at the last minute 🙏. I'm planning on drawing something as well, but it probably won't be out in time before the submission period ends.

Esher's favorite color is pale pink!

--- Being more used to battle situations, Esher was quick to form a plan for the upcoming capture the flag game. It was a 4 v 4 match, and the first team to get their points to 20 would be deemed the victors. Vil refused to take off his hat and particpate, so Esher was only joined by Rook and two unfamiliar Savanaclaw students.

Rook took a seat with Esher in the sand to see what sort of formation she had in mind. It was well devised, consiting of a strong defense for 3 at base and sending one attacker out for retrieval when the opposing team was on offense. Esher explained it more in depth of how things should operate, but the two Savanahclaw students began to judge the ordeal harshly "So you want us to just sit around until something happens? That's boring~!" Rook looked between the students and Esher. Esher scowled rebuking them "And you have a better plan? I'd love to hear it." The two shrunk, but it was obvious they were still against it.

Rook shook his head and attempted to persuade the rowdy bunch "Perhaps we use a code system to switch positions? This way it'd be harder for the other team to predict who will come next." Esher thought for a moment, agreeing on the idea and even adding to it "It would also help keep from anyone from becoming the sole target. We could do fake outs too..." With a more active plan in place, the Savanahclaw duo decided to chime in with their own ideas.

Just like that, the team built up more trust amongst one another and came up with hand signals. The five minute prep time was up and with that, it was time to head into battle! The crew gave a roaring group call before stepping up to the line. Which team would fall and which would persevere? It was up to fate now. ---

LOLOL i feel like that ending was so 2000s cliffhanger XD I just know Rook is adoring the idea of a team coming together despite differences. The beauty of teamwork! BEAUTE! LOLOL Thank you for joining the event!!! I hope you can enjoy this!

#tuna be talkin #blueveildreaming #tunasseasidesq #twst fanevent #event request #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst rook #twst fanart

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annesthaeticc · 2 years

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Sweet November | Dr Strange x Fem!Reader

Sweet November : Chapter One-October 30

| Series Summary: "One month." Stephen said, his gaze intense. He raised his hand, offered it for you to shake. "One month." you agreed, and shook his hand. The sign of a closed deal. Then he smiled at you, and from that instant, you realized, you just broke rule number one; no falling in love.

| Chapter Warning: fluff (i guess? idk HAHA)

| Word Count: 1451 words (keeping it short these days or else i'll run out of creative juices T^T)

| A/N: heya! hope you like this! there'll be more to come don't worry! chapter 2 is already in the works! if u wanna be tagged, please join my taglist (link below) or send me a message! comments, hearts, REBLOGS will help me write <3

"YOU MADE A MATCH!"

How could four little harmless words cause you excitement and despair at the same time? You'll never know. You weren't one for online dating, you thought it was ridiculous to meet someone through that way. Just exactly what had happened to the traditional way of courting and romance? Strolls in the park? Secret and lingering gazes from across the room? Ballroom dancing? That sort of stuff? Guess it faded along with the era, or maybe you need to stop watching period films and getting your standards way up because—

"1 New Message" your phone beeped. You quickly swipe to open the dating app to view your match's text.

"I'm on my way."

Thank fuck for that. You've been waiting for almost forty-five minutes for him now and you were already having second thoughts about meeting him. But you decided against it and waited. He was a doctor after all, something must've come up.

All you know about your date is that his name is Stephen V. Whatever 'V' means, you'll never know. His profile flashed a picture of him wearing a classic black suit, and tie. You immediately swiped right the moment you saw his picture, you're a sucker for men wearing suits. He was in his early thirties. And he has an MD, and a PhD. Hotshot doctor, big extra points for your high standards.

The faint tinkling chime of the restaurant's door made you glance and turn around. And there he was. You watched as he looked around him and down on his phone. Should you wave and catch his attention? Or should you meet him and introduce yourself to save him the trouble of looking for you? You opted to stay back in your seat and compose yourself.

Eventually he found you. He stood by your table and you immediately shot up from your seat to offer your hand.

"Hi. I'm Diana." you said, smiling. Quickly, he pocketed his phone and shook your hand with his free hand. He was holding his lab jacket and case with his other hand.

"Stephen. Nice to meet you Diana." he returned the sentiment with a pleasant enough smile.

He took a seat across from you and you passed him the menu. He scanned it quietly and settled it back down.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked you.

"Yes, thank you," you replied. He called the waitress and he let you say your order first, saving him for last.

When the waitress awkwardly walked away with blushing cheeks, you stifled your giggle. You looked at him and found him smirking.

"So,"

"Yeah," he cleared his throat. Obviously finding the whole date ordeal a bit out of his specialty.

"Tinder, huh?" you chuckled, and he did the same. Then he quizzes you on how you came upon registering into the dating app.

"It's ridiculous, really. I always loathed the idea of meeting someone online. But I was feeling particularly lonely one night and decided, 'heck, maybe I should try it'" you said. Then you asked him the same question.

"Well uh, can I be honest with you?" he said with a smirk playing on his lips.

"Of course."

"I was hoping to meet someone, a fake girlfriend perhaps, for me to take to some medical galas that I'm attending this month," he replied and you gaped at him.

The conversation took an interesting turn, and your iced teas haven't even arrived at your table yet.

"Couldn't you just, I don't know, date someone and ask them to be your girlfriend?" you said, hope laced your voice.

"I don't do that," he chuckled.

"Don't do what exactly?"

"Relationships. The boyfriend and girlfriend thing," he spat out the words ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ like it was disgusting.

"So you'd rather have a fake one?"

"Yeah. That way I'm not committing myself to something serious," he replied. He gave you a tight smile and instantly you felt yourself become a bit irritated.

He looks so stupidly handsome and he has committment issues. You instantly regret logging into Tinder in the first place. You look away and sigh.

"What?" you heard him ask you.

"Oh it's uh," you distractedly muttered under your breath. Without thinking, you started to gather your jacket and your bag.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." you said, gave him a tight-lipped smile and moved away.

You were halfway through the restaurant floor when you heard him follow you, "Diana! Wait!" You glanced at him then turned to the exit.

"Don't you want to hear all about the deal?" he asked as he stood beside you. You ignored him and continued to look for a taxi.

"Deal? No, I'm not interested,"

"Please? Look I'm really desperate and I—"

"Really? Well sadly, I'm not signing up for your fake relationship thingy because—"

"You believe in true love, is that it? Diana, you'll never meet him in a dating site,"

"Guess you're right." you started to walk down the street, in hopes of avoiding him. Seems that he really is desperate.

"Why don't you try? Just hear me out," he came up next to you and caught up with your pace.

"Okay, I'm listening but that doesn't mean I'll agree to it," you gave in.

"I'm fully booked this whole month, charity dinners, award ceremonies, galas, all that stuff. I need someone to take to the events. Look, I'll buy the dresses, the shoes, everything you need on the night of the event. Just come with me, hang on my arm for a few hours, eat some fine dinner and wine, then I'll take you home." he ended his speech.

You gave him a sideway glance and continued to walk down the pavement. He was still walking beside you, as if he's waiting for your answer. But then the first drops of rain started to fall, you halted and started to rummage in your bag for your umbrella. And of all the days you forgot your umbrella, it was today. You quietly groaned and you heard him chuckle.

"Let me at least drive you home." he said, a smirk teased his lips. You glared at him in annoyance, attempting to keep yourself feeling that way.

But his eyes, bright blue, shone underneath the lights of the city. You figured, at that moment, you were going to give in. You sighed, rolled your eyes, then acquiesced.

"Where's your car?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

"Parked down there." he pointed at the entrance of an hospital's underground parking.

You looked to your side and realized you both stopped at the very front of New York's Metro General Hospital. It was an easy enough guess that that's where he's working.

Eventually, you found yourself fastening the seat belt across your body. You sank back into the smooth leather seat as he eased the car into drive. The silence in the car was filled by the stereo turned into the right volume. Quite obviously he's a fan of Pink Floyd.

"Say I was to agree to your plan," you cleared your throat as the bass of Another Brick On The Wall quietly vibrated in your ears. He pressed a button on the wheel, turning the volume lower.

"How is it going to work?" you continued.

"Well, I've drawn up a detailed schedule, a calendar marked and we'll have to discuss it of course. I'll only need you on the night of events,"

"Come over to my office tomorrow, we can talk about it, I'll have my assistant book you 1 in the afternoon."

"I haven't even agreed to anything yet you're already bossing me around, is this how it’s going to work?" you joked. He cocked his head to the side to give you a look. You bit your lip and looked away.

When the car arrived at your street, it slowed, then you quietly asked him to pull up. He maneuvered the car to park and you clicked the seatbelt off. You looked at him to say thanks, but he beat you to it.

"Thanks for meeting me. It's fine if you don't agree. I'll just uh, think of another way to solve my little problem." he said. Then he smiled.

"Thanks for the ride, Stephen." you said with a smile. This time a genuine one. You grasped the handle and clicked it open.

You climbed out, but before you closed it, before you let the chance escape you, you bent down a bit, and said, "You can tell your assistant to book me an appointment with you tomorrow, 1 in the afternoon."

This time your true smile was met by his own genuine and beautiful smile. Or at least you felt that it was.

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