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l0v3tast3 · 11 months

Note

i need pervy older bf konig :(

good god. bro you and i are both so lucky i had today off. this was some good shit to write thank you very much for requesting this ( ◡‿◡ *) also ngl i really think i just don't know how to write characters not being possessive. it's just in my dna

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, age gap (reader is 18/19, könig is mid-40's), mentioned loss of virginity, corruption/innocence kink, size difference, size kink, pet names, free use, posssessive!könig, exhibitionism, mention of violence (reader gets turned on by it dw), edging, dacryphilia, bondage, praise kink, reader calls könig "sir"

✎ word count: 1.4k words (not proofread)

✎ translations: "hase" = bunny , "liebling" = darling "mein schatz" = my darling/sweetheart , "mein herz" = my heart "mein kleiner hase" = my little bunny (please correct me if anything is wrong, i'll edit it whenever i get the chance!)

masterlist | requests

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who is just obsessed with his darling little girlfriend. he loves everything about you, how small you are against him, how easy you are to manhandle and twist around, so happy to just have him touch you however he wants. how you always crane your neck up to look at him with such adoration in your pretty eyes, even when he makes you do the nastiest things for him.

✧ ˖ ° ever since the first time he sunk into you, your first time where you couldn't even take his whole dick (it took you a few rounds to fit it all in), he just can't get enough of you. the whimper when he pops his fat head through your tiny hole, how you dig your nails in and gasp for breath the further he pushes in, it's straight up addicting to him. könig's favorite thing is seeing you fall deeper and deeper into the pleasure he gives you, seeing you become more and more corrupted by his huge hands and cock.

✧ ˖ ° he's got such a kink for your innocence and naivety; his heart skips a beat every time you think it can't get any better, and then it does and your little body doesn't even know how to handle it. könig will try every position, every kink his expansive mind can come up with with you.

✧ ˖ ° it always starts with him pulling you over one of his thighs (it strains your legs too much to try and sit over both of them without his help) and him dragging your hips back and forth across it. his hands cover the entire expanse of your thighs and the globes of your ass, fingertips digging in until it's just on the edge of bruising. always soaking up your little whimpers, how you dig your nails into his shoulders and hide your face in his chest. "hase, my little bunny, does that feel good? look at me, liebling, answer me. always so shy when i have you like this. it feels good, yes? are you going to cum for me? heh, what is it, you need more, liebling? ask me nicely for more, then."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who steals your underwear and most of the clothes you pack when you come over and pretends to have no idea where it all went. oh well, guess you'll just have to wear his clothes! it's such a shame that you don't have any underwear left until he does the laundry that he keeps "forgetting" about. it's so sad that you have nothing clean left to wear except his t-shirts that almost reach your knees.

✧ ˖ ° he just loves being able to come up to you in the kitchen, lift you up onto the island counter and run his hands up your thighs until his thumb covers your clit. you always get so squirmy when he does that, bucking your hips into his hand and clawing at his arm. könig chuckles and teases you about how needy you are for him, how you're such a dirty little girl for walking around with no underwear. "don't you know how men are, mein schatz? they'll snatch you up every chance they get," he mutters in your ear, the hand that wasn't shoving two fingers into you gripping your hip to keep you still.

✧ ˖ ° when you start stuttering out little pleas and fumbling with his belt he relents. he pushes you flat against the counter and kneels to lick a sloppy stripe up your pussy, never forgetting his dedication to not hurting you (not in a way you didn't like, at least). and when he's finally lifting your hips up to line up your sopping hole with his dick, he tells you how much of a good girl you are for letting him use you like this, whenever he wants.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who gets off on having you sit on his lap in public; in front of anyone, really. könig knows that his overwhelming size and heavy stare makes him live up to his name of "king", and having a pretty little thing like you in his lap just completes the picture. he doesn't admit it, but you know it's an ego boost for him every time.

✧ ˖ ° it just makes him so happy to have you so close! he tells you it helps him with his social anxiety, having you there to calm him down. especially when he invites over his friends, other colonels and military men. könig knows you always feel out of place, feeling like you're going to hear something you shouldn't. he just coos reassurances in your ears and rubs his hands up and down your thighs, fingertips grazing just below the hem of the pretty dress he had asked you to put on. "relax, hase, it's okay for you to be here. mein schatz, mein herz, you know i would never let anyone harm you. i would break their neck before they even came close."

✧ ˖ ° you somehow always end up trying to discreetly white-knuckle his wrist that's buried between your legs. könig plays poker with the rest of the men, pretending very well that three of his fingers aren't knuckle deep inside you. everyone knows, they grow to expect it at this point. you're just so obvious, squirming and glancing up at him anxiously and trying desperately to cover up the tiny moans you let out. then he'll finally lean down and whisper in your ear, telling you to be good and cum; you can't possibly hide the way you shake and arch your back or the choked whimpers. but the men carry on with their game, barely sparing a second glance at you (they still shift in their seats, sneak a hand down to readjust), talking amongst themselves.

✧ ˖ ° "you see, mein kleiner hase, they know to not even look at you too long. they know you're mine, just well as you do, right?" könig says lowly while he wipes his fingers off on your thighs. he's pulling you closer to him so you can feel the outline of his hardon pressed against your ass. you nod and mumble a little "yes, sir" and he pats your stomach where he's holding you against him. "good girl. don't worry, liebling, we are almost done here. i'll stuff you full soon enough, just be patient a little longer."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who always has nothing but praise for you except for when you act up. he wasn't the kind of man to take insubordination lightly usually; you couldn't be if you wanted to be a colonel. instead of his usual punishments (making subordinates run suicides until they dropped) he likes tying you down and edging you until you're sobbing for him to let you cum, to untie you, anything.

✧ ˖ ° it's not that he enjoys seeing you cry (he loves it in this context), he just needs to teach you a lesson, to make sure you know your bratty actions have consequences. it just brings könig so much joy to reduce you to a brainless, overstimulated mess, whining pleas between hiccups and gasps for air. hearing you cry out, "no- nono please könig, please sir m'sorry, m'so sorry! ha-a- please, please let me cum, m'sorry, please-", is like an angel's choir to his ears. he knows you think he's being cruel and unfair, but könig is always going easy on you. you still are his sweet little girl, after all, he could never hurt you too much!

✧ ˖ ° he won't let up though until he's making you say whatever nasty things he wants, until you're so desperate that you completely forget about being shy. "have i taught you your lesson, hase? hm, i don't know if you have yet. tell me what you want- i know you want to cum, liebling, what do you want me to do about that? you want me to fuck you? ask properly, tell me you want my thick cock in your tiny pussy. you need it, don't you? tell me you need it, you need to feel me deep inside you. hah, alright mein kleiner hase, i believe you. it's alright, shh, mein herz, you did so well for me, let me reward you now."

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #konig #konig x reader #konig x female reader #konig x you #könig #könig x reader #könig x female reader #reader insert #call of duty smut #cod smut #konig smut #könig smut #— lilly writes! ♡

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devildom-moss · 7 months

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Biting their necks (Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, Thirteen, Mephistopheles)

What would happen if you bit their necks with no warning?

(Barbatos x gn!MC) (Simeon x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC) (Thirteen x gn!MC) (Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

(suggestive)

Word Count: +2,800 (Simeon got +800. Oops)

Barbatos

Baking sessions – or lessons, depending on your skill level – were a good excuse to monopolize a bit of Barbatos’s time. It was just the two of you in the kitchen. He was at the stove, keeping a close eye on the caramel, occasionally brushing the side of the pot with water to prevent scorching. You neglected your station to get behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

Barbatos chuckled. “Did you finish cutting out the dough?”

“I got distracted by how cute you look when you’re in the kitchen. I know I can’t steal you away from Diavolo forever, so just let me have this,” you spoke softly against his shoulder.

“I’m cute? You are the only one I’d let say that.”

“You’re so cute – adorable, even.”

You inched closer to him, and without warning, you bit his neck – just above his collar. Knowing that Barbatos may get upset if you marked him, your teeth barely grazed his skin, but the sensation of your hot breath was enough to make him shiver slightly in your arms. It was a shame how much skin he had covered; there were only so many places you could tease him directly.

“Do you find me so irresistible that you intend to gobble me up?” he asked playfully. His face took on a light shade of pink, yet he still had the sense to stir the cream and butter into the caramel, creating a beautiful silky consistency. You watched him work for a minute.

“If I said yes?”

“I would welcome it – that is, I want it just as much as you do.” You felt his tail wrap around your ankle teasingly. “But I beg that you wait until after we’ve finished baking.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” you cooed into his ear, “but how could I possibly deny your begging?”

“I’ll make it worth the wait. You have my word.” He lifted the pot off the burner, and you took that as your cue to let him go. He turned around, expecting to need to coax you into finishing cutting out the cookies. Slightly surprised, he questioned you: “oh, you did finish cutting out the dough, then? I thought you said you got distracted.”

“I wouldn’t disappoint my favorite man.” However, telling him that you had finished your task and just wanted to hold him didn’t sound as sweet as telling him he was distractingly cute. “You know, that look of surprise on your face is cute, too.”

Before he could respond, the oven dinged, signaling that it had finished preheating. Barbatos poured the caramel into a bowl to cool while you placed the sheet of cookies in the oven. He cleared his throat. “I suppose if you would like, I could indulge you for a few minutes now – just while the cookies bake.”

“So generous.” You pulled him into you, hands quick to unbutton his shirt.

Simeon

If one more demon brother bothered you today, you were going to set something – or someone – on fire. Luckily, Simeon was happy to host you for the afternoon; he didn’t even scold you about making threats of arson.

In the quiet peace that Simeon’s room held, your reading was interrupted by Simeon stretching at his desk – by no fault of his own, really. The lines of his body were so pretty. Maybe you still had some aggression in you that fed your urge to sneak up on him as he continued to write.

Simeon had barely acknowledged your proximity when you leaned down and bit him just above his collar. You heard a sharp inhale leave him, but the way he craned his neck away from you, giving you better access, indicated that he didn’t have any protests. He stopped writing, and you heard his pen drop on the desk. You took the opportunity to kiss down his shoulder and leave a mark there, too. Finally, you were able to pull a soft moan from his lips – stifled as it was.

“H-hey.” His voice was more complaisant than objecting. “Is this supposed to be my reward for letting you hide out in my room?”

“No. You were just too pretty to resist.” You kissed the bite mark on his shoulder, then the one on his neck, before you whispered in his ear, “would you like a proper reward?”

Simeon mulled the words over. “Perhaps.”

You left Purgatory Hall a few hours later, sneaking out without anyone noticing. Simeon returned to writing shortly after. He stayed preoccupied until Luke called him in for dinner.

When Simeon joined Luke and Solomon at the table, he had forgotten all about his bite marks. Luke stared at him, horrified. “Simeon! What happened to you?”

The realization hit Simeon like a cement block. Internally, he freaked out, grasping for anything while Solomon sat there, amused, and refusing any assistance. What Simeon landed on was a disgrace to him as an author: he accidentally turned you into a vampire with a spell while studying. You were so thirsty, and he didn’t know how to reverse the spell right away, so he let you drink some of his blood.

With his clumsy lie settled, Simeon quickly sent you a text to warn you about his story, begging you to go along with it.

MC: Wow. Why’d you have to do me dirty like that? Simeon: Do you want to explain to Luke why you really gave me a hickey? MC: Two. But no. Good luck!

Immediately after, you got a text from Luke, asking how you could bite poor Simeon. You apologized. Luckily, Luke forgave you; it was an accident, after all, but he asked you to be more careful next time. You were definitely going to be more careful.

“Mind telling me what spell you used there, Simeon?” Solomon asked, holding back a snicker. “Maybe I should try it out.”

“Solomon, no!” Luke protested. “You can’t just turn MC into a vampire.”

“Calm down, Luke. I always get consent first.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“It matters quite a lot,” Solomon smirked. Simeon had enough and kicked Solomon under the table with a look on his face that a parent might give an older sibling who can’t hold their tongue.

When Raphael walked into the dining room, Simeon hoped he would be spared from his torment. He wasn’t.

“Where’d you get a hickey from, Simeon?” Raphael asked nonchalantly.

“MC bit him,” Luke explained on Simeon’s behalf as Simeon seemed reluctant to speak.

“Oh, they got to you too?”

“What?” The word fell from the other three in varying degrees of shock.

Raphael shrugged. “What?”

The texts came rolling in again.

Luke: Why did you drink from both Simeon and Raphael?

Shit. You had to think fast.

MC: I didn’t want to take too much blood from either one, so I tried to take a small amount from both of them. I’m so, so sorry. Luke: Oh. I guess that was nice of you. But please don’t do any more vampire spells, okay?

Solomon also sent you a text: Want to suck my blood too, MC? 🖤

Before you could think of an appropriate response to Solomon’s flirting, a new message from Simeon popped up. This was more urgent than Solomon’s shamelessness.

Simeon: “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll remember to cover up – unless you wish to bite me somewhere less conspicuous, that is. Still, somehow, I’m glad you were the one who bit me this time. I can’t imagine how furious Luke would be at me if I was the one to bite you. He’s quite overprotective, isn’t he? However, I think I owe you. A mark for a mark. Perhaps I should throw in an extra one on Raphael’s behalf. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

You were in for it now.

Solomon

Mammon had told you that Asmo gave Solomon a hickey earlier that day. You didn’t know where Mammon was getting his information, but that did sound like something Asmo would do. Still, it made you a little jealous – not because Asmo had done that, but because you wanted to give Solomon a hickey too.

It was fortunate, then, that you had a study session with Solomon planned today. It was less fortunate for your grades and magical abilities that the only thing you had been studying since you showed up in Solomon’s room was his neck. That damn turtleneck wasn’t revealing anything.

Solomon noticed you had been watching him more intensely than usual. It was flattering, but you weren’t making any moves on him, and he was feeling impatient. “Is there something wrong? You keep staring at me.”

“Could you sit down for a minute?” you asked him.

Finally, he thought optimistically. Solomon took a seat on his couch. You walked over to him and hooked a finger under his collar, slowly pulling it down. Nothing. You checked the other side. Still nothing. Heat rose in Solomon’s cheeks.

“MC, what are you doing?”

“Quiet,” you hushed him and checked the other side of his neck again, pulling his collar down a bit lower than before. Where was it? It was a weird thing for Mammon to lie about, but perhaps he was just mistaken. Still, even if Asmo hadn’t gotten to Solomon’s neck recently, you figured it would be a waste to just leave him unscathed. You might as well use your blank canvas.

You leaned down and bit his neck, sucking his skin – trying to mark him as yours. He whimpered at the sudden pain.

When you finally pulled away and inspected the pretty red mark on him, you noticed how flustered his face was.

“How did you expect me to stay quiet while you did something like that?” Solomon ran his fingers over the mark and accompanying teeth indents. “I don’t mind, but what’s gotten into you?”

“Mammon told me that Asmo gave you a hickey. I had to check, but I guess he was wrong. When I thought about Asmo getting to mark you,” you paused, “well, I wanted to mark you too.”

“Oh, he’s not wrong. Asmo did leave me with a hickey. I got rid of it with magic earlier today.” He laughed. “Honestly, MC. If I knew you were the jealous, possessive type, I would have let Asmo play around with me a bit more.”

“I’m not jealous per se. I just wanted to leave my mark on you.”

“You have.” He took your hand sweetly and added, “but I’ll make sure not to heal yours with magic. It’s a shame that you left it below my collar, though. I’d like to show off. Maybe you could leave a few more.”

Thirteen

When Thirteen invited you to her cave, you didn’t expect to find her distracted by her newest trap. The last time she invited you over, she greeted you at the entrance and guided you around. Maybe you had gotten your hopes up too much. It wasn’t as if she promised to give you her undivided attention.

“Work, you little fucker,” she cursed under her breath at the trap on her lap as she unscrewed the back panel yet again.

Your shoulders slumped, and you pouted slightly. This might take a while, you realized. Thirteen wasn’t particularly aggressive around you, but you could feel her tension in the room. Between that and your mounting boredom, you stood up.

“I’m going to take a walk,” you informed her. “You seem a bit busy.”

Shit. That sounded passive aggressive. Maybe you meant to be. She was the one who invited you over. It was reasonable to be a bit irritated. Regardless, it was effective. Your words hit her, and Thirteen almost dropped the tools in her hands – tightening her grip just before the pliers and screwdriver slipped from her grasp. She set her tools and her latest trap on the table quickly before standing up.

“Baby, no, wait. Come here.” Thirteen opened her arms wide for a hug, wanting you to come back into her embrace. You conceded, and once you were close enough, she pulled you against her body. “Sorry. I should have finished this before you showed up. I just had some last-minute issues, and I was in the zone. But he can wait. I promise.”

You buried your face in Thirteen’s neck. How was it possible for a reaper living in a cave to smell so sweet? You bit her softly as revenge for her neglect. She let out a startled yelp, but she didn’t stop holding you until you released her skin. Her breath was shaky, and her face was pink when she asked, “what was that for?”

“Punishment,” you admitted. “Is that okay?”

Thirteen laughed and pulled you backwards in the direction of her bed. Despite the fact that she was the one walking backwards, you nearly tumbled over her when she plopped down. You barely stopped yourself by putting your knee at the edge of her bed – right between her legs. She met your gaze when you stared down at her.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Her pupils dilated, and the faint blush still sat on her cheeks. “Punish me more.”

Mephistopheles

“Why are you in the RAD Newspaper Club room again? I don’t remember inviting a foolish human to distract me today.” Mephisto sighed and scanned over a draft of an article on the new exhibit at the botanical garden. Technically, he had invited you to visit him earlier in the week “if you wanted to see how much effort goes into [his] work,” but he had clearly forgotten in his resolution to being a grump today. “You know little about the Devildom, and I don’t require your assistance. So, I invite you to get out.”

Sometimes his commitment to being a dick was tiring – especially when you were fully aware that he held some strong, affectionate feelings for you underneath it. Hell, he had glanced in your direction three times already, and they were not glances that suggested he wanted you to leave. If he wanted to play his little games, you could at least chastise him a bit – well, a bite.

“Alright, I’ll go, but first,” you left him in anticipation as you walked around his desk and leaned down behind him. You sank your teeth into the side of his neck, earning an adorably pained groan. Served him right.

As soon as you let go, Mephisto shot up from his chair. That was your cue to run. You rushed out of the room and hurried down the hall before he could finish telling you to “get back here this instant.”

You ran, stupidly glancing back just in time to bump into something solid. When you turned back to where you should have been looking, you were met with Lucifer’s confused face.

“Why are you running in the hall? What’s gotten into you? Are you alright?” Lucifer held you firmly in place by the shoulders. He was searching your eyes with concern. It was sweet of him to be worried, but you didn’t have time to stand around being worried over when the click of Mephisto’s heels was quickly approaching. He wasn’t running – but those long legs hastened his pace. He was like Michael Myers with a bit more urgency. “MC. What is it? Answer me.”

Lucifer’s concern had stalled you enough for Mephisto to catch up. He grabbed you by the back of the collar and pulled you out of Lucifer’s grasp.

“Wait,” Lucifer demanded. “What are you doing?"

“I’m taking this,” Mephisto informed him without turning around as he dragged you in the opposite direction. “It’s mine.”

Lucifer felt a portion of his brain die off. He swiftly turned on his feet and walked away. He was not dealing with this today.

“Can you let me go?” you asked Mephisto while squirming in his grip.

“If you don’t come willingly, I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”

“Are you even that strong?”

Mephisto’s eyes widened as if you had insulted him. You might as well have called him a weakling. He took your words as a challenge and pulled you into the nearest empty classroom. Once inside, he locked the door and held you close with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back. Before you could register what happened, Mephisto had dropped you to the ground, landing over you, straddling your hips. His hands had protected your head and back from harsh contact with the floor.

“Ow. That still hurt my butt, you know?” You stared up at him. It actually didn’t hurt that much, but you wanted to complain.

“I’ll kiss it better later if you need me to, you big baby.” Mephisto sighed and pinned your hands to the side. “Strong enough for you?”

You made a half-hearted attempt to struggle. “Point taken; now you can get off.”

“Oh, no, I can’t.” Mephisto let you go with a smirk. He loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. “We need to finish what you started, foolish human.”

(Mammon, Satan, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Raphael version)

(Lucifer, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Belphegor version)

#barbatos #simeon #solomon #thirteen #mephistopheles #gn!mc #obey me short fic #not me struggling to figure out how I want to format texts in this...#hoping to feed the Mephisto stans with this one for real though #and the Barbatos Simeon Solomon and Thirteen lovers too #obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles

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tipsyleaf · 9 days

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Leon would definitely match with his little girl daily if it was possible. :3

His little princess is wearing a pretty light blue dress? Now he has to wear a light blue shirt. She’s wearing a pink gingham dress? He’s got the perfect pink button up for that.

They’d wear silly matching shirts aswell like those stupid ‘Her daddy’ and ‘His girl’ shirts, or the ‘Original’ and ‘Carbon copy’ one’s. The day she finally grows up and tells him she doesn’t wanna match anymore because it’s ’embarrassing’ is the day his world shatters.

He’d come crying to you at the realization his baby girl is growing up, especially when she goes from saying ‘daddy’ to ‘dad’. :(

- Anon! 🎀

MATCHING OUTFITS I CAN'T 😭

These shirts... Perfect!

But like imagine Leon's just freaking out cause he feels like he's losing her little girl. He'd be fucking devastated...

You two are laying in bed after putting your baby girl to bed. Leon laying on his side, head in your lap as you calm him down. Whipping his tears away.

"Honey, did really you think she'd want to wear the outfits forever?" Leon turns on his back, he stares up at you with red glassy eyes and a nose to match. You brush his hair back trying desperately to keep your giggles at bay from what seems like such an over reaction.

"She's my baby... Our only baby! When I picked her up from school today, she called me Dad. DAD!" He rubs his forehead with a sniffle, you brush his cheek with your thumb, a small smile pulling at your lips as he leans into your hand.

"It was bound to happen." He glares up at you, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Soon his expression turns to a pout as he huffs.

"Easy for you to say, she still calls you Mommy," he takes in a deep breath, pondering a thought as you roll your eyes, "can we have another baby?"

"Lee..." He sits up looking back at you, hair slightly messy from your fingers playing with it.

"C'mon! It be nice to have another baby. Plus it was so beautiful watching you waddle around in your little dresses while you glowed like the God damn sun... I miss it." Your nose wrinkles as he turns towards you, pulling you into his chest. Looking into your eyes with that puppy dog stare.

"Don't give me that look. I'm not getting pregnant again just to give you your best friend back..."

"What if I got her a puppy?" Your head cranes back, looking at the ceiling with a deep sigh.

"Are you suggesting you'd bribe a 6 year old to love you?" Leon freezes for a minute, looking down at the sheets, getting abnormally quiet even for him.

"...yes."

"Oh my God, you're the most dramatic man I've ever met in my life..."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #🌿 ivy writes #🌿 ivy replies #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy

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smuthospital · 7 months

Text

⭐️Yandere Oikawa x reader⭐️

Warning: NONCON, fem reader

MINORS DNI

"I..really like you. Can..I...please have your number?" A mousy boy from your school asks. You're quite the popular girl at school and everyone wants to be with you or be friends with you. You're simply liked. No one has ever had an issue with you and the reasons why are clear. You've got a lovley personality, you're beautiful, you're charming, you're intelligent and you're nice.

"That's very nice of you to say, but I'm sorry, I'm not looking for a relationship right now, but you'll find your love another time."

Your response gives the mousy boy hope. He nods and scampers off to tell his friends. Lunch time at Aoba Johsai High has just ended and you're on your way to your next class. You feel someone bump into you from behind while you're walking, almost sending you falling forwards. A hand reaches out and grabs you by the back of your shirt and fells you back into your feet. You turn your neck to face them and you're confused when you just see a wall. You crane your neck up and groan. Looking down at you is the schools heart throb, Oikawa and he's wearing the smuggest grin on his face.

"Up here, sweets. Have you finally realized that i'm literally perfect and perfect for you yet? I bet you've been looking for me all day to confess your undying love for me. I'll pick you up at-"

"No, Oikawa. I told you so many times. I'm not interested in you so go away!"

He pouts and cries crocodile tears. "(Y/n)! How could you say that? You're so mean!" As soon as he showed sighns of sadness, five girls materialize out of thin air and croud the jock, patting his back and reassuring him. The girls turn to you begin to berate you for being so cruel. "(Y/n)! Just give him a chance! He obviously really likes you!" A girl sneers. "You made him cry!" A few of them just glare at you like you hit their baby.

"Yeah, (Y/n). Give me a chance." You can just tell he's holding back a smile. He's lying! You scoff and walk away, not wasting anymore time on those idiots. Oikawa lifts his head up, a look of irritation on his face as he watches you walk down the hallway. "Cheer up, Oikawa. We know how much you like (Y/n). She's a nice girl so she'll eventually come around. She'll realise how great you are in no time!" He looks back at the girls and smiles. "Right."

You walk into class and sit down, ready for the lesson. You feel someone take the seat next to you and a familiar musky colonge makes you roll your eyes. A large arm loops around your shoulders. "Long time, no see, sweet cheeks"

"...Oikawa." Most of the school pretty much already consider you two a couple. the two of you look good together and everything thinks it just makes sense. Your disapproval is passed off as 'hard to get'. This stops most guys from flirting with you, afriaid of what Oikawa might do to them. He is the captain of the volleyball team afterall. He's got a lot of physical power as well as social. Not to be fucked with.

The bell rings, signaking the start of the session. "I'll be asighning a group project today. Your seat mate is your partner. Your subject is..." You bite your lip, no longer listening. Damn Oikawa. You look next to you to see Oikawa already staring at you with the biggest smile on his face. This guys been after you for so long now. He's always got this love sick puppy look to him when he's near you. You admit, he's handsome, but you're not interested in a playboy that'll throw you away like a used condom when he's done with you.

You huff as you begrudgingly begin to work on the science project together. He keeps flirting with you every chance he gets. Franky, it's starting to get on your nerves. "I know a place we can study alon-" "Oikawa, stop that." You decide to lie to him. "I have a boyfriend." His smile suddenly drops. He stares you dead in the eyes. "What..did you just say?" You begin to sweat. You're not a very good liar. You didn't expect him to react this way. He looks angry, but also shocked.

"...I-I-" Your stammering is cut off. "Ok then let's see Mr. Prince charming. I want to see a picture." He's getting all up in your face now. You're scared. You've never seen such a look on his face before. "O-ok." You feel like such an idiot, but you have a plan. The bell rings and You quickly leave the classroom with him following not far behind you. You find the mousey boy who asked you for your number earlier and loop an arm around him. The motion shocks him.

"Oh? (Y/n), What's up?" A blush spread across his cheeks. "So this little twink is your dream hubby?" Oikawa sneers. He towers over the cowering boy, looking down at him with pure disgust and disdain. He suddenly grabs the boy by his collar, picking him up effortlessly and lifting him up to meet his gaze. "Y-yes! Now put him down! Who do you think you are!?" You yank on the poor boy and Oikawa drops him back on his feet. "I'm her boyfriend s-so leave her alon-" the boy is cut off by a piercing glare to the soul from Oikawa. Without another word, Oikawa storms off and disappears behind a corner.

The mousy boy looks at you in confusion. "I'm sorry, he's just been bothering me. I'm sorry to get you involved like that, but you're really saving my butt!" The boys face reddens even more. "It's ok! You can always come to m-me for help!" You give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He almost faints at the contact. You giggle and walk off.

Schools done for the day. You get a strange feeling as you walk home. Like someone's poking holes into your back with their eyes. You break into a slight cold sweat as you speed up your pace. The feeling disappears as soon as you enter the safety of your home. Homes quite. You're home alone for the day. You run up to your room and hear your door bell ring as soon as you finish changing into comfy clothes.

You expect it to be the mail man, but to your surprise, Oikawa stands there with his signiture stupid grin. He lets himself into your house before you can say anything. "H-hey! What are you doing here!?"

"Cute booty shorts, baby. Got any snacks?" You blush at his words. He walks into your kitchen with you following quickly. "What are you doi-" "Science project." He cuts you off without even looking back at you. He takes a bunch of snacks in his arms and makes his way up to your room. "Oikawa! You can't just do whatever you want!" He opens the door to your room and inhales the glorious scent.

"You gonna get your big strong man to force me out?" He chuckles. Your room is everything he pictured it would be. Cute, decorated, and neat. You huff and try to push him back out, but it's like pushing a cement wall. He simply makes his way past you and plops on your bed. Click your tongue and just decide to get it over with.

You pull out your books and shuffle through your backpack, unaware of oikawas gaze trailing from your book bag to your tiny shorts and how he can kinda see the outline of your pussy though the thin fabric. You're not wearing underwear underneath. He takes a mental screenshot. You walk back and begin working with him. Just like in class, he misses no opertinity to flirt with you.

"Oikawa! I told you I have a-"

"Call me Tooru. Why won't you date me, (Y/n)? I just don't understand. I am perfect and perfect for you. You're perfect and perfect for me. When will you realise that?" His loud voice hurts your ears.

Youre frozen in place. What should you even say? Your brain isn't working. Why does his temper flair like that? Tears prick your eyes. You don't do will with being yelled at. He looks ticked off, but his eyes soften slightly when he realised you look very hurt by his outburst.

"Don't be mad at me. I-I just don't see you that way." You hang your head low. A minute passes and he says absolutely nothing. You feel his fingers softly take your chin in his hand and lift to meet his gaze. There's a dark look on his face. "You will. You and I are meant for each other. And don't worry, I can never be mad at you. I'm just a bit disappointed. I'll take care of everything, sweety." He let's go of your chin and gets up before ruffling your hair and walking downstairs. You hear the front door open and close.

You take a moment to collect yourself. You're terrified. Who the hell is this guy? Threatening you like this in your house. He just won't quit. You barely sleep that night and end up sleeping in. You quickly get ready for school and rush off. Once you get to school, you're Immediately greeted by the mousy boy, who looks a little off. He's wearing a cap over his face and when you try to get a better look, he steps back. "H-hey, (y/n)...please meet me in the gym after school." He then runs off without waiting for a response, leaving you confused. The rest of the day goes on without a hitch, Oikawa bothering you much less than usual. He's still by your side like a guard dog, but he's not picking on you.

The end of the day comes quicker than you expect and you make your way to the gym as requested. Wonder what that boy needs? You walk inside and look around. Empty. Weird. You feel large arms grab you from behind. You scream as you thrash about and try to loosen the iron like grip! "H-help! Ah! Someone please!" You scream as youre pulled into the men's locker room. The sight you see stills your heart. Mousy boy is being held down by two volleyball club members while Oikawa stands proud with his arms crossed. "There's my princess. Bring her over here."

The large man holding you sets you down in front of Oikawa who immediately grabs you by the arms and turns you to face the boy. "Look, (y/n). See, I know that's not your boyfriend. I know that because I'm your boyfriend. I also know he's not your boyfriend because he's small, he's weak and he's not good enough to protect you because he's not me, right?" He asks, poking the side of your head. He's furious.

The boy wiggles in the tight hold of the club members, who just smile down at you with malious grins. "I-I'm sorry, (y/n)! They made me!" He looks so beaten up. He now adorns a black eye, lots of bruises all over his body and a few cuts. You feel incredibly guilty for brining him into this. Oikawa presses his body against your back. You feel a large hard lump jab you. You swollow, hoping that's not what you think it is and you're just imagining things. "L-let us go!" You only get a laugh in response. Oikawa turns you to face him and shoves you back onto a bench. He reaches under your skirt and roughly rips off your underwear and stuffs it in his pocket.

You kick in and struggle in his hold. "Oika-" "TOURU. I told you to call me Touru. My girlfriend should call me by my name. This'll be a lesson to you." You whimper as he violently rips open the front of your blouse, buttons flying off. "So beautiful. Like a gift just for me." He grabs your melons with both hands and squeezes them. "So soft!"

You let out a tiny moan. You holp no one heard, but now everyone is staring at you. "Fuck her already!" One of oikawas teammates shout from the side. You begin to panic. "Touru! Please stop! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!" Your begging seems to do something. "Oh? You're sorry?" You nod, hopeful. "Then don't struggle." He shoves you flat on the bench, and gets presses his lips to yours.

He stares into your eyes as his hand creeps into your skirt. You writhe under his hold as you feel his large fingers reach your cunt. His tongue enters your mouth and you cant do anything but cry. You struggle with all your mite, but he's a trained athlete and he's much much bigger than you. You can't deny it feels good. You whimper as you feel a knot building up in your tummy. "P-Please, I-I can't. All these guys are watching me." Your voice is dripping with pleasure.

"That's the point. Let them all know that you're mine. This is a party, baby. We're celebrating us." He rubs your cunt vigorously and you let out a cry as you cum on his fingers. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean, maintaining eye contact. He hums in enjoyment like he's eating ice cream.

Without a word, he slides his volleyball shorts down just enough for his ginormous cock to flop out and slap his stomach. "You ready to get your brains fucked, princess?" Your face pales. That horrific monster thingy is going to rip you in two! While his hands aren't on you, you try to run away. He doesn't even have to move to catch you in one of his long arms.

He picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. You feel his hot cock proding your entrance from below. "Please please Touru." You whine and hide your face in the crook of his neck. He kisses your cheek. "You'll be alright.. eventually." He presses into your hole and the head struggles to enter. It burns! Even your cum is not enough lubricant. It pops in with his sheer force and scream. "Ahh~ you're so tight. Just like I imagined. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do this.. actually..I'm not sorry." He smiles down at you wickedly as his hold on your ass lightens and gravity very slowly sinks you down on him. You feel like you're being impaled by a spear. You choke out a scream and clasw at his back, not getting a firm enough grip to stop yourself from sliding down. He moans at the tight feeling of your cunt. You hear the sounds of frabric moving around behind you and turn to see many of the volleyball team members are jerking off to the sight of your ass sinking down on their captains cock.

You let out a strangled scream as gravity forces you lower and lower on his giant rod. "It h..hurts." Oikawa kisses your cheek. He finally bottoms out inside you and without wasting a second, he starts to thrust his hips up into you. All you can do is hold onto him and whimper.

"T-Touru! Please! Ahh~" You suddenly let out a pained sound that sounds a bit too much like a moan and he pauses, his mind cementing that sweet sound into his memory. He suddenly rocks you up and down mercilessly on his dick. You'd think his arms would get tired, but he's probably spent hours in the gym and definitely hours on the court. It might not be possible for him to get tired. He's not even showing sighns of fatigue. You moan and scratch his back as he beats up the entrance to your cervix. "This is what you were meant for. To be mine. Don't resist it. Boys. Ah~! Take some photos of us!" He can't go a full sentence without groaning in pleasure.

His team mates all whip out their phones and snap pictures of your face and your cunt wrapped around their captains cock. Some film videos as they run themselves off. Oikawa lets out a laugh and turns your head back. The mousy boy is blushing even more than before. You notice he has a hard on. He tries to cross his legs to either hide or eliviate himself, you don't know. Oikawa turns your head back to him and encases you lips with his in a passionate kiss. He seperate s from you, a string of saliva connecting you. "Be my girlfriend. You'll be happy and no one will ever hurt you. I can promise you that...and those pictures won't get out. Don't make me use that against you. Just be mine." You're not sure what to say. You have to accept, but you really don't want to be with this jerk. He's raping you..but it feels good. You feel almost too good to deny him. "B-but-" "No buts." He drives his rod further into you.

"I'll give you guys a show! You guys deserve a little treat for helping your captain out." Oikawa says, lifting your body up slightly so his cock slips out a bit. He turns your body to face his friends and holds your knees so your back is against his chest. His team and the mousy boy now have a perfect view of your wet pussy and breasts. He slips his cock back inside you and thrusts in and like a mad man. His friends watch the way your breasts bounce with the momentum. "Damn I can see your dick from inside!" His team mate says, pointing at the outline of his dick from inside your stomach. His team spew nasty things about you and their captain as they stroke themselves. The mousy boy tries to turn away, but one of the althletes grip his hair and force him to turn back at you.

You keep whimpering in pleasure. You want to hide so bad. Oikawa leans over your shoulder and whispers huskily in your ear "Hear those sounds you're making, baby girl? You like this. Say you'll be my girlfriend and I'll let you cum." You need it. You can't handle this feeling. The feeling is too intense. his cock is hot hot and deep. You're melting from the inside. He laughs as you start uncontrollably whining and moaning. "O-ok! Fine! Please Touru!"

"No. Beg me more. I atleast deserve that."

Your face flushes in emberesment. This asshole. "...Touru..please, Touru..make me feel good." Tears slip from your eyes partly from the emberesment and partly from the blinding pleasure. You try not to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

"Alright, fine. That'll do, princess." He takes a step towards the mousy boy. "What..what..are you doing?" You ask outloud. The Mousy boys nose is now inches from your dripping pussy. He's mesmerized. He can't look away. The scent of your pussy is driving him wild. He's salivating. He suddenly whimpers and shudders, a wet patch forming in his trousers. He appears dazed. Oikawa laughs and jack hammers into you. Your eyes cross and you feel like you're about to die. A strange euphoric pleasure washes over you and you slump a bit in oikawas arms. He doesn't stop though. He keeps thrusting in and out of your abused hole, over stimulating you. His team begin to chant "Oikawa! Oikawa! Oikawa!" They all moan and climake onto their hands. He shoves himself deep inside you, penetrating your cervix and moans. His face contorts in pleasure as you feel his hot seed flow inside you. Your tummy bloats a bit by the time he finishes. He sighs in content and kisses your cheek.

"That's a good girl. Now I do expect you to be a good girlfriend. If you misbehave..ha..well.." He just chuckles and pulls out of you nice and slow, a flow of cum flowing after. You feel empty as he sets your sticky body down on a bench. "I'd stick around and go more times with you, but we've got practice. You'll wait for me at the side, won't you?" He smiles down at you, a glint in his eye.

"Yes, Touru."

#Oikawa #x reader #non con #lemon #yandere x reader #yandere #yander Oikawa

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danistartt · 1 year

Text

Prince Charming- Jamie Tartt

alternative title: poopeh pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent, jan maas warnings: language about: jamie's trip to the sewers

The field is empty when you pull into the parking lot.

You frown when you don’t see any bright jerseys floating around the grass, checking the time on your car screen to make sure practice is still supposed to be going on.

You’re only more confused when you realize it is, cocking your head at the green like it’ll answer. You find Jamie’s contact and reread the message he’d sent you an hour ago, ensuring that it was indeed today and not a week ago. The date reads as it had, Jamie’s request for you to bring a bag he’d forgotten still typed out in black.

You glance down at it on your lap, poking at it with an index finger before you look back up, nearly expecting the team to appear. It doesn’t. You sigh, pushing the car door open anyway.

One of the assistants opens the door for you, just as surprised that the team is absent as you were. You shrug at him and knock lightly on the door to the locker room, pushing it open a sliver when there isn’t the normal buzzing from the team.

Very confused, you heave a big sigh, striding near the coach’s office to peek inside there, too. No luck.

You slump onto the bench in front of Jamie’s locker, fiddling with the zipper on his bag as you search your pockets for your phone. You’re about to call him when the door opens with an ocean of familiar noise.

Graciously, only Jamie strides in, easily catching sight of you. His reaction is immediate and lovely, beautiful face stretching cheerily. “Hey, love.”

“Hi, Jamie,” you greet, standing to meet him when he arrives. “Brought your bag.” You swing it lightly on your finger to show him.

“Ah, you’re great,” he says, kissing your cheek before pulling you into a hug. Greedily, you let him, already having missed his presence.

You bury your face into his chest and subsequently pull back, your nose wrinkled. Doubtfully glancing back up at Jamie, you shoot him a look before leaning back in again to sniff suspiciously at his shoulder.

You pull back as far as you can in his arms and make a disapproving noise. “Jamie, why do you smell like shit?”

“Right, sorry love. Lasso took us to the sewers today,” he says, brows furrowing. “D’I really smell that bad?”

You stare up at him. “What?”

“One of his lessons. The system an’all.” He pinches the fabric of his shirt and takes a smell. His lips purse, he shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

“Maybe you got used to it down there,” you point out, smoothing the wrinkles he’d made. “Either way,” you begin, patting his chest, “take a nice shower before you get home, okay?”

He snorts, ducking down to give you a kiss.

You smile against him, thrusting his bag against his chest when he begins to push you toward his locker, his arms tight around your waist. “Nuh-uh. You have things to do, Jamie Tartt. Don’t start things you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish?” he asks, one of his stupidly handsome smirks on his lips.

You groan loudly, a gentle hand pushing his face away. “Prick. Get away from me.”

He laughs, his fingers crawling up your wrist to hold your hand. He brushes his lips against the bony hills below your fingers, eyes sparkling as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling his smile on your skin.

“Prick,” you repeat, softer.

“Yeah,” he admits, “but you like it.”

“Only a little,” you confess, letting him kiss you again.

A door slams. Footsteps pause, and then, disgusted: “Get a fucking room!” Roy. He says hi to you a lot kinder, but the embarrassment refuses to ease.

You choke, pulling back so hard you slam your head against the wall. You crane your neck down, hiding behind Jamie’s figure.

“Oi, stop screamin’!” Jamie screams back, a heavy palm warm just above your neck. The door to the office slams behind Roy as Jamie shakes his head, brows knitted together. His thumb rubs around a thready ache. “Fuckin’ old fuck,” he mutters, softer now. His pretty eyes look into yours.

You giggle. “He’s right.”

“You wanna get a room?” he asks.

“I should go,” you correct, pecking him quickly before he can convince you to stay with his sad little pout and round eyes. “Say hi to the team for me.”

“We heard,” Jan Maas says from far away.

Many more voices chime in with a greeting.

“Will you lot shut up?” Jamie says.

“I’ll see you soon,” you laugh, blowing him another kiss.

“I’ll try to wash off the smell!” he calls.

“Prince Charming!” you croon, letting the door close behind you.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt reader insert #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you

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cherrychilli · 1 year

Text

If you're lonely, call me

Minors DNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, established relationship

Summary: With your houses so close together, being next door neighbors with your boyfriend Steve comes with the benefit of being able to see right into each others bedrooms. It's late, you're feeling lonely and he's just a stone's throw away. Why not open the curtains and have some fun?

A/N: Basically, I was reminded of a movie I used to see on TV all the time back in the day called 'It's a Boy Girl Thing' and remembering how those characters interacted yelled at each other through their bedroom windows gave me a naughty idea. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Phone sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this fic! (I love reading all of your comments and feedback, it really makes my day <3 )

Wordcount: 2.6K

The clock ticks past 2AM and sleep is yet to claim you. Rolling over in bed for the umpteenth time you reach out to turn your bedside lamp on, squinting as your eyes adjust to the outpour of light. It's Steve's fault that you're unable to sleep, the dull ache between your legs an unyielding reminder of how much you miss having him positioned there. Even if it has only been a couple of hours since you saw him last.

Crawling over to the foot of your bed, you crane your neck out to peer through your bedroom window and at Steve's window just a few feet opposite your own. The thin strip of light filtering through the curtains he hasn't drawn completely shut tells you that he's up too. Hopping off your bed and padding over to the window, you unlatch it with one hand and reach for the little jewelry dish sitting on the ledge with the other. After years of living next door to each other, you picked up the habit of filling the ceramic dish with pebbles and casting them at Steve's window whenever you wanted to speak to or sneak out with him without alerting either of your families. Selecting the closest one, you pitch it against Steve's window and wait, smile breaking out on your face when the curtains part to reveal your boyfriend. He returns your smile as you take in how cute he looks with his hair all tousled from laying against his pillows.

You raise your hand to your ear, thumb and pinky fingers extended while you fold the rest into your palm and mouth at him to pick up the landline that sits on his bedside table. He nods back and you turn to jump back into your bed, picking up the receiver of your own phone and dial Steve's number. It was a routine the two of you had perfected and just like every time before, he anticipates the incoming call and picks up the instant the phone rings.

"And what's got you up at this hour", he greets you playfully.

"I was about to ask you the same question", you return, mirroring his tone.

"Uh, you first", he falters, voice taking on a nervous lilt. You note the slight hesitation but decide not to prod just yet.

"Couldn't sleep", you toy with the telephone cord, withholding the real reason for your sleepless state for the moment.

"Any particular reason?"

"Bad dream", you lie. "What about you?"

"I was-uhh, reading", he replies in a barely convincing attempt. He was never any good at lying but you don't need to press any further for answers because you know Steve and you have a pretty good idea of what he could be up to at this hour.

"Steven, were you masturbating?", you inquire teasingly with mock appall, gasping into the receiver whilst clutching at your imaginary pearls.

"No!", he blurts out loud. And then more quietly, "I was about to..." he admits with defeat.

"Oh? did I interrupt?", you continue to tease, grinning to yourself when you guessed correctly.

"Not exactly. I was already thinking about you"

Your face turns warm at his confession. "Anything in particular?", you ask, encouraging him for more details.

"I liked that shirt you had on today", he answered.

You let out a chuckle, knowing all too well that the low cut tee that he's referring to was a little snug on your form and was sure to draw his attention to your chest. As you had hoped it would.

"I could tell. It was impossible to make eye contact with you today", you chide lightheartedly, not at all upset by his wandering eyes.

"I'm sorry", he laughs back sheepishly and the sound of it has you picturing the way he drops his gaze and runs his hand through his hair whenever he feels embarrassed.

Clutching the phone a little tighter, you abandon the amused tone for something a little more suggestive and closer to a whisper, "I wish I could have asked you over today". You usually did. And if you didn't it was because the both of you had decided to go over to Steve's. Only this time you had returned home without him on account of promising your mother that you would help set up the house for dinner with your aunt and cousins who had been visiting from out of town.

"Can I make it up to you?"

"What do you have in mind?", he asks and you can hear the excitement underscoring his tone.

"Come back to the window", you reply, already swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

You carry the receiver with you a few shorts steps away to your bedroom window, cord trailing behind you.

"Now what?" Steve calls into the receiver when he appears in place, watching you from behind paned glass. You bite your bottom lip, excitement buzzing inside you as you set the phone down on the window sill. You watch the curious expression on Steve's face as your fingers curl underneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt, pulling the material up to expose your bare breasts. His breath goes still, jaw slack, his eyes trained on your naked chest and despite the few feet of distance between you he swears he can see your nipples harden. You shift your weight on to your tip toes, arching your back before slowly rocking back down on to your heels, causing your breasts to bounce as you settle back to your original stance. You’re more than satisfied when Steve's lips frame a silent and awe struck “Fuck” in response, eyes wide with interest.

A thought occurs to you while he stares and instead of letting the front of your shirt drop back down to conceal yourself, you surprise him by pulling it off entirely, leaving you in just your sleep shorts. A quick flash. A little tease. He hadn't expected it but the moment you'd showed him your tits like this he'd thought a quick peek would be the extent of it. As soon as you pick the phone back up he's finally able to let out what had been trapped in his throat when you first lifted your shirt up. "Baby! fuck, what are you doing?", voice stirring with a thrilling feeling that he can't contain.

"The truth is I couldn't sleep because I've been thinking of you too", you answer, referring back to the start of your conversation. "And I think I have an idea that'll solve both of our problems".

You reach over to drag your vanity chair across the soft carpeted floor and position it in front of your window before seating yourself.

"Stevie, do you want to watch me touch myself?", you ask, tone tempting and sweet like honey.

The answer was yes. A resounding, thunderous yes but he only manages to pry a flustered, "Oh my god, angel", from his lips in response and you find that you like the sound of it just as much. It reminded you of how your knees would feel weak whenever he played with the hem of your skirt, his lips pressed against your neck as he drew soft pleas for more out of you. Only this time, you were the one making him feel weak.

"I want to watch you too. Please?", you request, voice so saccharine he couldn't imagine ever refusing.

He doesn't answer, too busy already pulling at his desk chair to place it in front his window. There's about 10 Feet of distance between your houses and you're thankful it isn't any more because you can easily make out the outline of his cock underneath his sweats from where you're seated. You can hear rustling and soft thudding through the phone as he drops down in his chair, impatiently stripping his shirt off to bring the chest hair that makes your panties pool with wet heat into view.

"So, you missed playing with my tits today?", you start, earning a raspy response from the boy on the other line.

"Yeah baby, fuck, do you know how hard it was to let you walk away from me today?".

You smile at that. "If I stayed, how would you have touched me?", you bring your free hand up to cup one of your breasts and squeeze tenderly.

Something electric rolls all the way up his spine when he hears you let out a sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. His free hand moves to palm himself through his sweatpants, grunting at the respite it offers him.

"I don't think I could be as gentle as you're being right now", he answers honestly. "I like hearing all those pretty noises you make too much. I want to hear you get loud- wanna suck your tits till they're all marked up- pinch them till they're all sensitive and you can't take anymore...wanna make you cum from playing with just your tits"

You feel lightheaded in the best way, fingers rolling your hardened nipples whilst fighting the urge to let your eyes fall shut and picture just what he's describing.

"Need to know what you were thinking about. What kept you up tonight, baby?" he asks. He slips his hand underneath the waistband of his sweats as you balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, free hand now rubbing your clit over your shorts while the other continues to toy with your nipple. You can feel the dampness of your arousal there, faintly surprised that you've soaked that far into your clothes already.

"Mm, kept thinking about your big cock", you let out in a hushed moan. "Missed having it inside me...feeling it stretching me open. Please, baby take it out for me?", you ask sweetly.

Steve releases his throbbing cock long enough to hook his thumb into the waistband, pulling his sweatpants down until he can kick them off and aside. Your breathing grows heavy when you see it, thick and hard in his large fist, tip flushed a deep shade of pink as he teases it with his thumb. You tear your eyes away long enough to notice the way he raises his eyebrows at you, his eyes falling to your shorts as if to say, your turn. You follow through with his silent request, eager to rid yourself of your damp clothes. You shed your sleep shorts and panties, slick strings of your arousal catching on your inner thigh as you do so. Goosebumps form on your skin as you raise your legs and rest your heels on the window sill, spreading your thighs apart so Steve can see between them.

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart", he groans when he sees your bare pussy, precum spilling from his tip and wetting his fist as he watches your fingers tease the little patch of hair on your mound.

"So pretty, baby. Wanna taste you so bad", he husks, pumping his shaft. The wet sound carries through the phone along with his heavy breathing, drawing a whimper out of you. Your fingers travel to your folds, parting them to reveal your core to him, all sticky and warm.

"S-same here- wanna feel you in the back of my throat", you stutter, thumb bumping your clit.

He squeezes his shaft, head hanging over the back of his chair as he leans back, dragging his fist from base to tip at a torturously slow pace. You draw your tongue along the roof of your mouth as you watch him, sucking in a breath as you remember all the times you'd licked along the prominent veins on his cock. "You look so pretty with my cock filling your mouth, babe", he recalls. He raises his head to look at you again, hair settling over his eyes, all dark and intoxicating. "Especially when you start to cry...lips all swollen, your mascara running down your cheeks- shit"

Your brows are upturned and pinched together as you ease your middle finger inside your hole. The way he's looking at you has your belly blossoming with something deep and wanting and you're only sorry you're not knelt between his thighs and watching him up close, feeling the weight of his cock in your own hand, tasting him on your tongue. "Fuck, Steve...you look so good like this", you mewl, back curving into an arch as you clench around your finger. He releases a breathy laugh, "Me? darling, I'm trying not to cum too soon just looking at you". You were a sight. Legs spread just for him, showing him the most intimate parts of you, touching yourself to the sound of his voice. Watching your finger sink inside you had him biting the inside of his cheek, mind filling with thoughts of your cunt clamping around his cock and milking him dry.

You whine, working another finger inside your dripping pussy as he savors the sound of every labored breath you release. "Stevie, it's so much better when you do it", you pant into the phone, trying your best to mimic the way his fingers would curl and drag along your velvety walls. He notices the way your nose scrunches with frustration and your lips dip into a slight frown. "Don't worry, I'm going to help you get there", he promises with a groan, determined to watch you come undone. "Be a good girl for me, angel. Start playing with your clit". You melt at how sweetly he phrases it, body trembling at the sound of his voice all deep and throaty. You remove your hand from your hardened nipple to rub circles against your clit, moaning into the phone as the feeling in your belly becomes stronger. "Fuck, just like that-get your fingers nice and messy", he exhales.

He knows you're getting close, the telltale signs are all there- toes curling, thighs quivering, the timbre of your moans becoming higher and he's not far behind you. “You want us to get caught, don’t you?, he taunts, wicked smile stretching across his face. "Doing this in front of your window? that's pretty dirty, babe. Want everyone to see you like this?". The thought sends a sick sense of exhilaration coursing through your body in waves and while all you can do is moan out his name in reply he can see it written all over your face.

"I'm fucking you against that window tomorrow", he continues, abdomen clenching as his release approaches. "Gonna see how many times I can make you cum like that - wanna feel how tight you get when you cum on my cock".

The rhythm of your fingers on your clit borders on sloppy, pushing you towards the edge. "P-promise? Want you to fill me up so bad, oh fuck Steve, I'll be waiting",

The coil snaps and your lips fall open in a wail, thighs threatening to shut when you hear him growl out on the other end, "Keep them open". The bottoms of your feet are bound to be sore tomorrow given how hard you forced them into the edge of the window sill in a desperate effort to keep your feet planted and legs spread apart for him. "That's it, that's my good girl", he praises, fucking his fist with fervor as he watches you throw your head back and gush around your fingers, sound carrying through the phone. You remove your fingers from your clit when it gets to be too much, pulling the others free from your fluttering hole when the aftershocks of your orgasm start to subside.

A strangled moan on the other line has you perking your head back up in time to see Steve reach his limit, your face heating up as milky ropes of his cum spurt out to splash against his abdomen and happy trail. If you weren't fighting to regain your breath you would have told him how pretty he looks when he cums. How pretty he sounds.

There isn't anything else you can do after that but stare longingly at each other, sweaty and sticky and out of breath, smiles forming on both your lips.

"I can't believe we've never tried this before" you break the silence with a weary laugh, slumping further into your chair while somehow still being able to balance the phone against your shoulder.

"Guess we're gonna have to do this a lot more to make up for every time we didn't", he laughs back, lips curving into a smirk before asking, "Same time tomorrow?"

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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enhastolemyheart · 4 months

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FLOWERS & KISSES | Y.JW

pairing Jungwon x reader

genre fluff, established relationship.

synopsis a moment of your relationship with Jungwon when he gave you flowers for the first time.

warning(s) kissing, not proofread, reader wears a dress.

word count 0.4k+

networks @/hyfenet @k-films

note sorry this is short, but I just wanted to get something out cus I feel like I've been dormant for too long lol. Now i wanna receive flowers from someone :( Hope you guys enjoy!

Today marks six months into your relationship with your boyfriend, Jungwon. You guys had made plans to get dinner together before heading to a drive in theater to watch a newly released movie.

Jungwon is literally the perfect guy ever. He has a very caring and patient nature and he always knows how to treat you right. He always shows his love through actions, so that's why he decided to surprise you with flowers before heading out.

He spends alot of time, making sure that which ever flowers he would get, they'd be perfect for you. The mini flower and cards selling cart was filled with an array of beautiful species and filled with air with a pleasant aroma.

As his eyes scanned the big cart, he immediately though of you when he came across a bouquet of that was a mix of Juliet roses and white tulips. He had to get that one for you. He pays the needed amount to the old lady running the cart and makes his way to your apartment.

You were getting ready, just done with putting on some hoops on your ears when the doorbell chimes, letting you know that your man has come. Speed walking in your sundress, you open and is met with your Jungwon, in a plain white shirt — that matches with your dress — khaki casual pants and the beautiful bouquet laying delicately in his arms.

"oh my god!" you wrap your arms around his neck, taking in his sweet scent that makes you feel at home. As you pull away he extends his arm towards you giving you your gift. "Happy six months baby."

"You look pretty, my beautiful girl." He grins, he dimple deepening.

"thank you so much won," you place a hand on his chest, planting a kiss on his cheek. He chuckles before wrapping an arm around your waist, not wasting time to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in closer before pulling away slightly to kiss your forehead.

"let me put these in a vase and wear shoes and then we'll go." You state as you take out a vase from a cupboard.

"Take your time love, no rush."

"Seriously wonie, thank you. I've never really received flowers before," you try to hide you blushing face with your face only for Jungwon to push your hair behind your ear before enveloping you in a hug from behind.

"Glad I was able to be your first baby."

You crane your neck to look at him and seeing the warm smile that adores face makes you want to kiss him, and so you do. You arrange the flower neatly before placing the vase on the center of the kitchen counter.

"I'll gift you some flower some other day wonie, for sure."

Your relationship with Jungwon is the best, filled with such joy and tender moments that has thinking that you got lucky in this world.

perm taglist: @jak-ey��; @snoowhore ; @hsgwrld ; @seungiesluv ; @1-800shutthefuckup ; @heeseungshim (send an ask to be added)

#<enhastolemyheart3 #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen soft thoughts #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines

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thepartyresponsible · 1 year

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today i discovered febuwhump, and idk how many of these i will write, but i wrote one for today.

so here’s a short fic about bucky and clint for the prompt “difficulty breathing.” it’s not particularly whumpy, so i’m not sure it qualifies, but we’re all doing our best out here.

if anyone has any requests for the other prompts, send them in.

- - -

They lose Bucky in Alaska, which is bullshit, because Clint warned everyone that they should’ve let him stay home. “Fucking Alaska,” he says, to no one, to the inquisitive squirrel in the tree he passed half a mile back. Alaska, so close to Russia that it used to be Russian territory, snow-infested, grizzly-riddled, bleak, brutal, cold. Alaska.

They’re here chasing down some Hydra holdout, spending their free time unofficially avenging through a hitlist Steve doesn’t like calling a hitlist. Two days ago, as Clint reviewed the general typography of the situation, studied potential sightlines, prepared a packing list of all his favorite base layers, he’d said, “Maybe Bucky stays home, huh?”

And Steve, of course, had whirled around like a scandalized meerkat, and Bucky had sulked in the corner like someone just forcefed him a wheelbarrow of rancid lemons, and Nat patted him on the shoulder and gave him a look like You’re right, and nobody cares.

And now Barnes has fucked off into the wilderness, and Clint’s going after him because the others are busy Sticky Bandit-ing their way through Home Alone Hydra’s inventive series of booby traps, and Clint, because he didn’t grow up in Brooklyn or a bunker or fucking Manhattan, is somehow the designated wilderness expert on the team.

At least he’s been spared the indignity of nearly getting obliterated by a deadfall in the woods. Tony seems to be taking that incident fairly personally.

“That’s what I’m saying about Alaska,” Clint says, to the rock he’s passing. “Everybody’s got fuck all to do up here.”

Death pits, with hand-sharpened stakes. Christ.

It’s the mountains, he thinks, and the height of the trees. The way the landscape looms and shades and suffocates. Same reason so many serial killers ooze up from the undergrowth in the Pacific Northwest, like creepy little murder mushrooms feeding on death in the dark.

Clint’s from good, wholesome country, the far west of Iowa, where the land has the grace to lie flat and let you get a good look around. Not a damn thing sneaks up on you back there. But here, in the Godforsaken Saint Elias Mountains, even the air is hard to find.

The altitude sickness kicked in about three miles back. He’s got a headache like his skull’s imploding, and he keeps reaching up to tug at his coat and the layers of shirts beneath, trying to break free from the building pressure around his throat.

He hated the stupid spindly stretched-out trees until he left them, moved from forest to tundra, and then it was like the trees kept all the air with them. “Baby, come back,” he mutters, really leaning into the stupid, dizzy way he feels, luxuriating in getting dumber the higher up he gets, because the only thing up here that’s going to kill him is Barnes, and Barnes could do that at any damn elevation he wanted.

Well, maybe there’s bears. Probably there’s bears. But he feels pretty good about his odds against most of them.

Clint tries to remember which bears are endangered. One of the other STRIKE teams got in serious shit once for annihilating a nesting pair of whooping cranes during an emergency landing in Texas, and Clint doesn’t want to end up with that kind of note in his file.

Clint Barton, Avenger, known enemy to the animals.

Anyway, he’s not overly worried about the bears. He’s carrying enough firepower to crater several of them into the side of this mountain, and he’ll lie about it later if he has to, say it was whichever type isn’t endangered.

Used to be, he never lied on a SHIELD form. Since Coulson died, it hasn’t seemed to matter.

“Shit,” he says, suddenly breathless, and he slides into a crouch, chest to knees, heart beating like he’s been feeding his lungs through a straw. He wonders about his aim, about what this dizzy lightheaded feeling will do, but he doesn’t worry about it much.

If it’s Barnes coming after him, he’s dead anyway. If it’s a bear, a centimeter or two of variance isn’t going to matter much.

“What are you doing?”

That’s Barnes, of course. Appearing outta nothing, like the ghost of failed missions past.

“Fuck’s sake,” Clint tells him. And then, half-laughing, “I’m here to rescue you.”

Barnes crouches down in front of him. He’s always a little wild-eyed when the target’s Hydra, but the desperation on him now is quite the throwback. Clint hasn’t seen that kind of fear in months. “‘Rescue me,’” he repeats. “You can’t breathe.”

Clint rolls his eyes. He can breathe just fine. “Made it this far.”

Barnes nods, slow, and then tips his head. “Yes,” he says. “How’d you find me?”

Clint scoffs. It’s a real allocation of scarce resources, that scoff, but he commits to the things that matter. “Yeah, maybe you don’t need oxygen, but supersoldiers still leave footprints.”

“Barely,” Barnes says. “And I need oxygen.”

“Barely,” Clint says, just to be an asshole.

Barnes’ stern almost-scowl breaks apart, splintering with a quickfire smile, and then he’s Bucky again.

Steve wouldn’t get it. Neither would Tony. Both of them, they’ve been remade, but never unmade.

Hydra, tundra, cold. They should’ve left Bucky at home.

“It’s not that I think you can’t handle it,” Clint says. He takes a break in the middle for a quick gasp at the useless cotton candy air. “Just maybe I kinda hate that you think you have to.”

Bucky shrugs. If the cold bothers him, he’s forgotten that he’s allowed to show it. He squints toward the skyline and then tips briefly into Clint, shoulder-to-shoulder, before he hauls him to his feet. “Then let’s go home,” he says.

They should check on the others. But, judging from the radio silence and the plume of smoke rising in the southwest, they aren’t needed.

“Yeah,” Clint says, leaning into him. “Let’s go home.”

#writing #fic

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wonjns · 2 years

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𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲; 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 ❦

pairing; sehun x male reader

genre; suggestive / “lime”

summary; you and sehun just couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother in the inkigayo dressing room. and crazy enough, you didn’t even care that the members were around poking fun of you two.

includes; makeupartist!reader, making out, dry humping, (technical) exhibitionism, implied poly!exo.

wc; 2.1k

notes; this is very much an unrealistic scenario but who cares its fanfic world kfsjhfhsh i wanted a world where they promoted DFTF & suho was there :( im thinking this is gonna be the first installment to a random overarching “series” i’ve been wanting to do after having a dream about it foreverrr ago,, maybe i’ll expand on it more later. lemme know what u think!

sassy, thats how you could describe the way sehun kissed you.

actually, that’s how you could describe the maknae’s personality in general. his quiet and reserved demeanor often lead people to deem him as shy, but those who really knew him all understood how snarky he could be - and it was showing all too evidently as he laid teasing nips upon your needy lips.

you were perched up in the tall idol’s lap as he sat in his designated chair in front of an inkigayo vanity in the dressing room. the light bulbs were still on and it’s counter was scrambled with different makeup pallets and brushes. you were already helping manage exo in so many ways, so it was no shock that you were also assigned to be their personal makeup artist. you were “pretty talented for a guy”, as baekhyun would tease.

your hands ran through his once perfectly gelled jet black hair before they roamed his chest, which seemed extra broad in his tight fit grey shirt. sehun’s tongue felt like it had a mind of its own as it traced shapes into the roof of your warm mouth. he even tasted like the sweet americano that sat half drank at his feet. you hummed and grabbed his face, kissing into him harder and forcing his head to crane backwards. you didn’t even care that you were probably smearing away the work on his face that took you a solid half hour to complete - you simply couldn’t get enough of him... not that it surprised you. you were weak for all of the exo members, them each being able to pleasure you in their own unique ways, but something about sehun just made you melt with so little effort.

“geez y/n, you’re gonna swallow me whole.” sehun spoke with a daunting smirk after removing his mouth from yours to catch a breath.

you rolled your eyes, trying to appear unbothered in order to hide how turned on you were.

“it’s your fault,” you rebutted, “i was actually trying to be diligent but you were the one with other plans.”

you weren’t lying, since you really did attempt to keep yourself under control. however, sehun had managed to start yet another one of your light banters, and despite your efforts, all it took from there were his sassy comments turning into suggestive remarks in order to have you straddling the older male’s thighs in seconds, kissing the nude lip balm right back off.

“yaah, seriously, y/n is so needy today.” a certain rapper fussed.

chanyeol was laid out on one of the dressing room’s couches - d.o and baekhyun beside him. they were all fully styled in the outfits they would wear for that day’s stage, and looked quite handsome themselves. their faces all held slight annoyance, however their body language was depicting jealousy. the boys rarely got jealous, as you did a pretty good job showing them equal amounts of attention (both emotionally and in the other department), but something must have been in the air as the other members clearly just wanted to get their hands on you themselves.

you and the boys had a fair system in place, the members all agreeing to respect each other whenever they would have their time with you. unless consented in the moment, there were never any interruptions or distractions that occurred out of spite. the exo boys had a strong enough bond and respect for one another to keep that agreement in tact. besides, they frankly seemed to all be on their own different schedules of horny - rarely did more than one of them fiend for you at a time.

so, they wouldn’t have been so bothered with you and sehun if the latter didn’t find so much satisfaction in showing you off any time that you two would engage in a steamy session. whether it be in a dressing room like today, or the dorm’s living room, the kitchen, the van, or even the dance studio - the obnoxious moans and sounds of lips and skin smacking so that the others could hear was something sehun always got off on like the mischievous jerk that he was. and being the youngest member, his drive was pretty high, causing him to always be seeking you out more than the other members.

“he can’t help it, he just likes me most.” sehun taunted in response with a low tone, not breaking eye contact with the slowly forming red marks he was leaving on your collarbone. he then leaned in to the left side of your neck. “don’t ya?”

you smacked his shoulder and went to interject, but your words quickly got replaced with an instant moan when he flattened his tongue on your neck, licking a slow stripe up to your earlobe. with a shaky breath, you looked back up to see the members rolling their eyes and grumbling witty insults at their maknae. xiumin even crossed his arms sporting a dramatic pout, which you usually always caved for.

you did feel shameful, and were actually shocked at yourself for once again giving into sehun in a public setting. shit, right outside the dressing room door you could even hear the scrambling from other groups and their managers going to-and-fro the stage for their performances. thankfully, suho being the most attentive leader that he was, had your back and had locked the door right when he sensed you were going to act up. there was also the fact that he was discreetly palming himself to your sounds, so it was comical that there was a chance he was doing it for his own benefit as well.

“ha, sure he does.” kai himself chimed in from the corner of the room. he was practicing the song’s choreography in an unbothered manner the whole time, but had to scoff at sehun’s comment. “have your fun now, but when we get back home we all know whose room y/n is going to sleep in tonight.”

sehun was moving in to kiss you once more, but turned his head after hearing kai’s comment. you had to catch yourself from releasing a pathetic whine at the loss of his lips. this was the least perfect time for bickering - you just really wanted to get this neediness out of your system so that you could finish the members preparations with a clear mind and send them on their way to the stage. you needed to wrap it up soon, anyways, since you didn’t doubt that their primary manager would come by asking what’s taking so long in the first place.

“as if, hyung.” sehun shot back, “i’d hate to break it to you, but y/n’s gonna have to be mine for the rest of the day.” he cooed, turning back to look you in the eyes as he cockily said that last part.

“i don’t know...” you teased, drawing out your words. “jongin really does know how to make m-“

you were cut off by sehun grabbing the back of your head. as if to shut you up, he started sloppily making out with the base of your neck. you groaned and ground your bulge down into his, the friction making your eyes roll back. this caused an uproar of snickers and giggles among the other members. you couldn’t believe they were finding amusement in your inability to compose yourself, but despite their laughs you did feel bad at how bothersome this might be to them. however, you forced yourself to drop your conscious and made a mental note to just make it up to each of them later.

overwhelmed by how solid his and your own lengths were becoming, and by how hard his ministrations were on your throat, you grabbed his hair to pull him back up to your mouth. your pink muscles wrestled for dominance as you heavily made out. you both moaned as his tongue continued to press up against yours even when your lips departed momentarily - sehun easily pushing the back of your head to reconnect them. you started grinding against each other fast and sensually, like two needy animals. your whimpers only increased and it was making you regret your actions as you started to need more, maybe you really were gonna contemplate staying with him tonight.

“alright, i’ve had it.” chanyeol grumbled as he stood up quickly, picking up his phone.

the members around him looked on with curiosity as he fiercely typed, and pressed ‘play’ before setting his phone on the table. immediately, the speaker that kai was using to practice DFTF started blaring HMPH by WJSN Chocome. chanyeol started flailing his long limbs everywhere, flamboyantly dancing the choreo to the high pitched song. kai was caught off guard, but it didn’t take long for him to start giggling and dancing along to the song as well, followed shortly by the rest of the members.

you and sehun’s lips slowly came to pause from their ferocious assaults, and you both turned your heads to see the baffling scene before you. the members started inching closer and closer to you and their youngest member, deranged smiles on their faces. you were confused but couldn’t help bursting into laughter. the maknae huffed out a breath of annoyance, but when baekhyun shoved his face into the small space between you and sehun to squeal the lyrics, even he couldn’t hold back his chuckles.

“alright alright, we get the message!!” you giggle, getting off of sehuns long legs and standing to your feet, dodging d.o and xiumin’s attempts to ambush you with tickles.

there was then a loud knock on the dressing room door, followed by the booming authoritative voice of the groups head manager.

“BOYS, T-MINUS 5 MINUTES UNTIL YOU’RE ON STAGE, WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?” she calls.

you all immediately scramble to turn off the music and collect yourselves, kai running to open the door. sehun cursed and quickly tossed you his spare jacket that was draped over his chair, silently motioning to your crotch area. you look down and almost shriek from embarrassment, noticing a small wet patch of arousal that leaked through your boxers to your jeans. how was that even possible?!

you look back up to sehun who adorned an arrogant grin that was way bigger than it should’ve been. you wrap the jacket around just in time for when the door opens, exo’s manager peering into the room suspiciously.

she immediately notices sehun’s clothes wrinkled, hair disheveled and slight makeup smears around his face. you curse internally.

“we’re on deck for our recording! why does he look like a hot mess??” she remarks to all of you.

“we- uh, oh we were-“ sehun fumbles over his words, the cocky attitude suddenly no where to be found. baekhyun bites his tongue to refrain from laughing aloud.

“s-sorry! i was trying different looks on ‘hun and i just couldn’t come to a decision, and the guys were just loosening up before the stage.” you jump in, praying that you sounded confident enough to be believed. you were left in charge of them, after all.

their manager pinched the bridge of her nose while squeezing her eyes shut. she clicks her tongue and looks at her clipboard.

“i can buy you 10 extra minutes. fix him.” she finally said, turning on her heels and leaving the room swiftly.

you all exhale a deep sigh of relief, before collecting yourselves at once. thankful to have been spared, you pick up your makeup pallet and brush, quickly getting restarted on fixing the mess you made on sehun’s face.

“oh.. if only noona knew i already got my fix.” the boy spoke just above a whisper, causing you to blush and all of the members to grumble loudly once again.

#exo x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #sehun #oh sehun #sehun x male reader #sehun x m!reader #exo x reader #exo smut #sehun smut #exo suggestive #kpop smut #kpop suggestive #kpop lgbtq

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papasbaseball · 1 year

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Swiss x Reader (Seven Minutes in Hell)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Swiss x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None.

Summary: It's Sunshine's first time playing the game 'Seven Minutes in Hell' with the ghouls. Swiss would rather gamble with you. It's a lot easier to run your mouth with the lights on.

Word Count: 2,808

Notes: This is another old fic from back in November. I still like it, even though it's pretty tame. The banter was good.

AO3 Link

"Do you think this bottle would be good enough?" you said, holding up a Fanta bottle. Orange droplets were still clinging to the inside of it.

The small ghoulette next to you nodded excitedly. Today was the first time Sunshine had heard of the game ‘7 Minutes in Hell’ and she’d insisted on a demonstration as soon as possible.

Being as the party had just started, not many empty bottles were available. However, as soon as Dew showed up to the old rec room with six siblings clinging to him like magnets, the entire 2-liter Fanta bottle was emptied by the ghoul. You supposed that was why Rain told you to grab 6 extra bottles of the stuff when you were at the store, along with some O-Ke-Doke Cheese Popcorn for Mountain.

Taking the bottle to the rundown bar sink, you put a little water in it, shaking it to give it a quick rinse, and then enough water to give the cheap plastic some weight. After weighing the bottle in your hands, satisfied with your work, you handed it back to Sunshine.

The ghoulette clutched the bottle to her chest and skipped over to the group of ghouls and siblings that had started this quest. You followed behind, trying to catch up to her and the promise of an interesting evening.

“Now we’re talking!” Aether said, watching as Sunshine bounded into the circle and held the bottle over her head in victory. He took it from her and placed it in the middle of the circle before motioning for everyone to join him on the dusty old linoleum floor.

“So does everybody know how to play?” a sister of sin asked, adjusting the chain of the grucifix that dangled down the front of her purposefully ripped habit.

“Well considering Sunshine over here just learned about it five seconds ago, I don’t think so,” Dew snarked, gesturing to the ghoulette who was craning into the circle as if it would transfer the rules to her brain.

Rain, who was sitting next to Sunshine, turned to the ghoulette, explaining, “So, first you spin the bottle. Whoever it lands on, you’ll go into the closet with for seven whole minutes. When time’s up, someone will open the door.”

“What are you supposed to do in the closet?” Sunshine asked.

“You can do anything you want,” Dew said before feigning a bite at the sibling of sin next to him. The lenses on his mask glinted devilishly in the dim hazy light of the rec room.

“It really is up to your imagination.” The comment came from Swiss. He was joining the circle at the last minute, taking a seat next to you. The ghoul usually smelled good, but tonight you noticed he smelled like Dragon’s Blood. The captivating scent was probably from helping out Papa with some ritual earlier today that involved the incense. “You could start a fight if you wanted. Or, if you’re especially talented, I suppose you could bang one out.” He made a lewd gesture at the word ‘talented’.

“You think you’ve got it?” Rain asked Sunshine.

Sunshine nodded vigorously, giving two thumbs up.

Aether, who separated Sunshine and Swiss, said, “Why don’t I go first, so that way you get the hang of it?” Reaching into the middle of the circle, he pulled the cap of the bottle sharply, sending it into a dizzying spiral.

As the bottle slowed, it came to rest pointed at Dew. The ghoul who had been carousing with the sister of sin next to him looked up at Aether. If lightning could be shot from a glare, Aether would have been electrocuted.

“Alright, looks like it’s going to be me and you, pal,” Aether said, hopping up to grab Dew by the back of his shirt.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Dew taunted back, wresting his shirt collar free from Aether’s grip. Rushing towards the beaten-up old closet door to open it, he extended a mocking hand and bow. “Ladies first.”

Aether grabbed the small ghoul's arm and threw him into the closet. “Let’s go, wise guy.”

With that, the closet door was shut, rattling the tarnished and loose knob.

Mountain set a timer on his phone for seven minutes and then the circle went abuzz. Some of the siblings of sin and Cirrus got up to go press their ears on the door. Others just turned to their neighbors to talk, you being one of them

“So, you think they’re actually going to fight?” you asked Swiss. The guitarist had shifted like he had been thinking of getting up to listen in at the door. Seeing the crowd suffocating it, he sat back down.

“Those guys? Probably. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they finally ended this whole ‘Will they, won’t they’ charade,” he replied. Pulling a vape pen from his vest pocket, the pen hissed as he took a long drag from it.

“Oh? Real?” It was news to you that there was something going on between the two guitarists. Whenever you saw them in the hallways, they always seemed to be roughhousing, much to Papa’s chagrin.

“Yeah,” he said, blowing the smoke out into the middle of the circle, adding to the already smoke-filled room.

“You want to bet on it?” you asked. Those two would be enemies until the day you were all thrown into the Fiery Lake and you wanted to see if the guitarist sitting next to you could be tempted by the sin of greed.

He gave you a once over, tapping the vape pen to his lips. “Bet.”

“Your funeral. How much are we betting?”

Money wasn’t an issue for you. The Ministry paid you all well enough, or at least well enough for someone whose room and board, food, and clothes were all covered for. Some siblings spent all their paychecks on tattoos, or cigarettes, or alcohol. When you spent money, it was on miscellaneous things here and there, like seven bottles of Fanta for Dew or O-Ke-Doke Cheese flavored popcorn for Mountain. The rest of it you kept hoarded in your bank account, like a greedy dragon.

“I think we can decide that later.” He lay down on the floor, stretching his legs out into the middle of the circle.

“That’s not how betting works.” Nudging one of his boots with your own, you tried to make sure he wasn’t falling asleep.

“Watch the boots.”

About to give him another kick, a loud bang came from the closet door. It sent all the siblings glued to it reeling back. Cirrus looked at them like they were amateurs and resumed her listening activities.

“Might as well fork over the cash now, Swiss,” you said, unable to stop the smile from creeping across your face. You knew you had been right all along, and now that cocky ghoul would have to pay up.

“Later, sweetheart,” he said, going back to his nap, his own smirk forming.

If he thought he was going to get out of paying you, he had another thing coming. Nobody double-crossed you, not even a main band ghoul.

A couple minutes later, Mountain’s phone timer rang out.

“I’ll get the door,” Cumulus said. She got up and pushed her way through the regathered crowd of siblings, telling them to go sit back down, before opening the door. “Are you two knuckleheads good to go?”

It was a rhetorical question, but on their way back to the circle Aether gave a blood-covered thumbs up, Dew following with the same gesture. Aether’s forearms were covered in defensive wounds, and both had their cowls ripped up, bare flesh covered in blood from-

Your eyes landed on the bite wounds and you felt your veins run cold. Ghouls only had bite wounds on their necks for one reason.

“Alright,” Swiss said, once the circle had been reformed, “It’s my turn now.” He reached out to the middle and grabbed the Fanta bottle in the middle, before sending it spinning with a snap of his wrist.

Watching nervously as the bottle spun and spun, you waited with bated breath. A silent prayer to Lucifer did nothing to save you as you found yourself staring down the neck of that stupid Fanta bottle.

“I’ll give you a hand,” the smug guitarist said. Rough hands gripped you and you found yourself being hoisted up by your arms.

Everything was moving in slow motion, watching helplessly at the smirks and concern from faces around the circle as you were escorted out. Suddenly, you found yourself in the pitch-black closet, the door shutting out your source of light.

The closet was an old coat room, probably used 40 years ago for parties that the Ministry held before they built the two new wings and ballroom upstairs. It smelled like cedar that was meant to keep the moths at bay, away from the clergy’s coats and other fineries. Blinded, you put your arms out in front of you, trying to find the nearest wall or something.

“You look cute when you’re lost,” Swiss said. The hiss of the vape pen and a flood of the scent of cherries to your nostrils stoked your anger at that statement. The rumors about the ghoul being a smug sore winner were true.

“I didn’t lose,” you huffed, batting at the smoke you couldn’t see.

A snort cut through the darkness. “Baby don’t lie to yourself. We both saw those bite marks.”

Your stomach sank. So much for gaslighting him. Trying to change the subject, you said, “Don’t call me Baby.”

A claw of his traced from your hairline to the back of your skull. “Would you prefer me to call you what you are: fucked?”

You shivered under his touch, backing away to continue your search for the wall. “I’m not fucked.”

“I can fix that.” His voice was lower now, bordering on demonic.

Fuck if it wasn’t turning you on. But he needed an ego check badly, so you continued your search for the wall. At last, your sweaty palms made contact with the dusty concrete barrier. “I’m sure you’d like to try.”

Two hands gripped your hips, pulling you into his erection. It was a surprise that he was hard already, but he probably got off on this betting leverage. A hand reached up to your throat, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I don’t have to try. You owe me remember?” he hissed in your ear, a long forked tongue coming out to flick your cheek.

“You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?” you laughed under his grip. A quick spin had you free of his grasp and changing locations. It had been long enough for your eyes to start to adjust and you could now see slightly better, aided by the tiny bit of light that came through the bottom of the door.

“I thought you were ‘talented’?” Making the same lewd gesture he had earlier, you couldn’t see it, but you knew this taunt would be clear as day to his ghoul eyes, adapted for the dark.

“Come over here doll and I’ll show you.” A new need permeated his voice. Swiss wasn’t known for being the desperate type, preferring instead to make other siblings and ghouls squirm under his penetrative gaze.

A smile spread across your face at the thought of having the ghoul whipped enough to come crawling to you in a heated haze. The smile faltered when you heard whispers muffled through the closet door.

Rushing over to the crack of light, you kicked the door hard with the toe of your boot. It almost felt bad beating up the already splintering old door, especially with how it banged with ferocity against your boot and the jamb.

“What’d’ja do that for?” he said, stunned at the impulsivity.

“I don’t like an audience,” you quipped. Whoever was on that side of the door, save for Cirrus, would probably think twice before putting their ear back up against it.

“But you want to put on a show?” The ghoul grabbed you by the arms, gently but firmly pulling you to the floor with him.

You reached a hand to his chest to steady your descent. He was firm and every time he spoke his chest seemed to reverberate with the purr of his sweet-talking words.

“I’d love to see what you taste like. I want to hear those pretty little screams as I fuck your brains out, right here right now on this floor. Can you be good for Daddy and scream for me?”

A small whine came out of you when he licked the shape of the leviathan cross onto your pulse point. Your heartbeat quickened at his words and gifted tongue. It was a struggle to throw the ghoul onto his back, but somehow you managed: he wasn’t going to win this.

“I’m not calling you Daddy,” you said, feeling him buck his hips at the word.

“But it sounds so good coming out of that cute little mouth of yours.” He shifted his hips up against your straddle, trying to gain some friction for both you and him. “You can call me Tiger instead if you like.”

“How about I don’t call you anything.”

“You want to be silent the whole time?" The ghoul sucked his teeth. His claws were catching in the fabric as he kneaded your ass, continuing his rhythmic grind. "I suppose you could give me head if you’d like. I prefer a little bit of teeth, but not too much; it gives it a little bit of danger.”

“You're kinky, that’s for sure.” Knees popping, you got up to go play with the coat hangers that the Clergy of days prior deemed unimportant enough to leave behind. He was coming in way too hot, and you needed to cool off. If he kept this up, when the door opened you’d surely be caught in the act.

“Come back over here my little vanilla cupcake and let me put some frosting in you.”

You went back over to the door and gave it another sharp kick. “Tiger, I think you’ve got cupcakes and eclairs mixed up.”

The nickname, although used jokingly, seemed to turn him on, as he let out a half growl half groan. He had gotten up off the ground because you then found yourself slammed up against the door. The ghoul lifted you up by your hips and sandwiched you firmly between the door and himself. "If you'd prefer to be an eclair, we can do that. Where should I fill my little pastry with cream?"

The words to sass him again caught in your throat, feeling him give you a testing bite to it. A squeak quickly morphed into a moan when he released his jaws, sucking a mark into the skin.

He shook with laughter, sucking even harder into you to earn more obscene sounds.

Reaching a hand up to the back of his helmet, it was unclear if you were trying to pull on the laces to get him off or push him further into his sinning.

"Cupcake," he said, coming up from his ministrations, "If you want more all you gotta do is ask."

"I thought I was an eclair?"

"I'm getting there.” He jerked his hips against yours, desperate to repeat the motions but with you impaled on his cock.

You were about to cave in and kiss him when the door opened, sending you both tumbling.

Cumulus stood over you, a smirk on her face. "Alright, ghouls and fools, time's up."

Swiss pried himself off of you, scrambling to his feet. His shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath — unclear as whether from having the wind knocked out of him or his time in the closet. "What!? That's bullshit! It’s not been seven minutes!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Cupcake," Cirrus said, stifling a laugh. "We all heard Mountain’s timer go off."

Mountain waved his phone in one hand before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Come on now," Aether said, trying to quell the snarl forming under Swiss's helmet, "They still have to spin the bottle." He was gesturing to you, trying to remind Swiss of the rules.

"Nope," Swiss said, picking you up and heaving you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "I've got a debt to be settled."

As the party watched you leave, Dew enthusiastically waved goodbye to you. "That's what you get for betting against ghouls!" he called out.

You wondered how he knew about the bet before realizing that eavesdropping didn’t always have to occur through closed closet doors. Flipping him the bird, you hoped that he saw it before Swiss carried you off to wherever, finishing what you started with that stupid bet.

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss x reader #swiss ghoul #swiss ghost

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vydri · 2 years

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I got my @shiftythrifting junk boxes today ♡ I think I order the cards & paper type junk box I don't remember lol and the all toys type box. Please ignore the messy table and not in season tablecloth lol

I got a very sad pink pacman, who reminds me of homestar runner for some reason lol, an old Wendy's kids meal toy I'm pretty sure it's a telescope or w/e, a hot wheels sized car, a beast transformer it's a panther I think that's what pose it was in when it came out of the box lol I had quite a hard time turning it into the panther but I figured it out. Some animals, I think that's a crane of some kind idk, a very solid horse, and a dinosaur I don't remember what kind that is I don't have much dino knowledge. There's a little alien playing baseball, and a tiny plastic baby that made me cackle idk. A penguin... looks like a club penguin one but I've never played that so idk. A cute little pink rhino. And I believe that's a John Cena figure with a "rise above hate" shirt but like I only know like 5 wrestlers so I could be wrong

I'm not going to bother listing what the stickers and cards stuff is but they're awesome too. I love stickers so much ♡

This was definitely really fun. My kid loved it too, he loves the pacman and beast transformer. He also begged me to open the Wendy's toy so despite how blasphemous it felt, I did it anyway bc it made him happy lol there was a little card in it that said I could take the card to blockbuster to exchange it for a collectible trading card

Here are a few more pictures

#shiftythrifting #junkboxes #toys #stickers #thrifting

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krysalla · 2 years

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I’M TRANSFORMED! - ii

i do not want to talk about how the first draft was about 8k words and then i realized a lot of it wouldn’t flow well so... here we are a somewhat reduced version

summary: your first three weeks go off without a hitch and not a single sighting of dr. crane until he catches you dozing off at work.

sfw | jonathan crane x reader | word count: 6.4k | prev | read on ao3

warnings: fear, hallucinations/unreality, me not knowing how a psychiatry residence works lol

You felt confident when you looked in the mirror before leaving for your first day. It’s a lovely yellow button down, brand new and never worn before, a recent and expensive purchase that you tried not to guilt yourself over. It looks nice. You look pretty and professional in it. It’s not often you spend so long staring at yourself in the mirror. You held your head high until you actually left your building and made it out onto the street where the dreary brown and beige setting makes you stick out like a sore thumb with your neatly pressed yellow shirt. The yellow is too loud, too new and hasn’t been muted by multiple rounds in the washing machine. A new job, a new chapter in your life made you confident in buying a new outfit to celebrate. Now you want to hide; the best you can do is shrug on a jacket and hope that it will be enough to let you blend into the background.

For a city with such theatrical villains, there isn’t much color to be seen.

You live in the Bowery, just a jump, skip and a hop away from Crime Alley. It’s far too east for your liking, putting you at about an hour and a half travel time from home to work, but the apartment you got was the cheapest you could find and ready for move in as soon as you signed the lease.

The jacket really isn’t necessary, just an old habit of yours, but the air is still warm, the last remnants of summer slipping away with it. This month is transitional. Stuck in a limbo trying to find a new home in Gotham, calling around leasing offices and getting dead end after dead end while keeping the date your lease was up tucked away in the back of your mind. Uprooted your established life and moved across the country somewhere in the middle. Stuck in an apartment with boxes not yet unpacked, dishes taken from bubble wrap and packing paper one at a time as you use them. Fall creeping into the morning air while summer heat takes over in the afternoon.

You continue on with the morning crowd.

From your apartment, you walk three blocks up to reach the train station, wait fifteen minutes for the next rail car which takes you across the water into the Upper East Side. Then you’re seated on the blue line for nearly an hour and jump onto the orange train which, after five stops, drops you off down the road from Arkham.

The sidewalk is overrun with grass and pavement lifted and cracked from tree roots. You’ve only been to this part of the island but you’re sure the rest of it hardly fares better than here. It’s Gotham’s dirty little secret. A sight of horror. Throughout the rest of Gotham, there’s numerous stops and rail cars that cut through the city. Going to and from Arkham there are two lines that each only make four stops each on the island.

There’s a different guard in the box this time. A younger man, somewhere in his thirties, alert but relaxed in his position. He smiles at you and opens the gates when you tell him why you’re here. You’ll be getting your badge today.

There’s no signs this time. It feels normal now. Every little detail that had left you squirming, giving you fanciful thoughts of a haunting are gone. You have your head stuck in the clouds and maybe read one too many books, seen one too many movies. Life isn’t like that and you trying to supplement the unknown with played out tropes makes you feel silly. This is a normal place and your nerves were getting the better of you. There isn’t someone waiting in a dark corner, waiting to pounce on you.

You make your way up the crumbling steps and into the gravel driveway, up the wooden stairs and enter the double doors of Arkham.

The yellow shirt seems louder.

–

Orientation is more intense than you expected. Patsy, the HR director, runs through mindless and outdated videos going over HIPAA laws, emergency evacuations in the case of a fire or impending natural disaster, accident prevention, codes, and what cleaning agents not to mix. It’s the longest five hours of your life and there’s still a whole week of it plus a week of training.

The bright side is that you get to meet the other residents in the program. There’s only three others but that’s three more people you know in the city.

Your first week in Gotham was exciting. A new chapter in your life, a new job, a new apartment in a new city. You spent a week trying to unpack, going box by box, you were stalled in your attempts when you found a box of pictures. Nothing tempted you after that. You split the tape on the boxes and folded the flaps down and looked out at your belongings in your living room. All your life reduced down to a few dozen boxes.

It would have been easy to call the friends you left behind, have their voices to help stave off the crushing isolation of the city. You didn’t. You allowed yourself to wallow in a misery of your own making.

So, knowing three other people, even only as prospective work friends was infinitely better than none at all. It doesn’t matter that Eugene is a chatterbox or that Piper has a habit of clicking her nails against the table. Mariam is just as quiet as you, she observes the table, watches you as you watch her. She offers a small smile.

You’re all filling out tax documents when a woman comes in, one you don’t recognize but everyone else seems to. The residents at the table sit up straight and smile at her. Your reaction is delayed as you watch the others.

“Excuse me,” Patsy says and links arms with the woman — the doctor — who interrupted orientation.

The door to her office is left open but even then you can barely make out what they are saying over the chattering of the other residents. You can’t hear them either, not with the rush of blood to your ears or the flurry of thoughts going on in your head.

“Hey, you good?”

“Yeah,” you look down at the table and huff, it’s hard to admit when you’re not in the loop of things. “Who was she?”

Piper stares at you blankly. She must be someone important then if Piper is looking at you like you’re stupid. You don’t take well to that look. You stare her dead in the eye and wait for some explanation. She trips over her words, stutters a few times before Eugene takes over the conversation.

“You haven’t met Doctor Carver?”

“No, it was just–”

“Wait,” Piper interrupts, “Were you alone with Doctor Crane for the interview?”

“Yeah, it was a surprise for me. I guess a patient died.”

“Oh, he was scary enough even with Doctor Carver in the room. I couldn’t imagine being one on one with him. He gave me the creeps!” Piper says, not really to you but to anyone that will listen. She fakes a shiver and laughs.

They continue to poke fun at Crane. You couldn’t blame them, there was something unnerving about the man, like there was something dark, hidden and locked away inside of him waiting for the perfect moment to show itself. They talk of his appearance, his scarecrow-like body with a mocking edge. Each comment has someone ready to tear into it and rip it apart.

Something about the remarks directed at Crane gets to you, makes your skin itch. You don’t know where the urge to defend him comes from, you don’t know him and even the brief impression you got of him in your nearly two hour long interview wasn’t good. Your mother always said you had a bleeding heart. But it’s not just that. You recognize something in him, something you see in yourself, you’re just not sure what to call it.

“He’s not that bad. He’s just… intense.”

“Rohl, would you come with me?”

You’re relieved. An excuse to break away before they want you to participate in their little bonding moment.

“Of course, Doctor.”

It’s only when the training room is out of earshot that you start to panic. You’ve been singled out by the head doctor of psychiatry here and yanked out of orientation. Only you.

You keep your pace behind Doctor Carver and the silence between the both of you only makes it worse for you. Where are you going? Has this all been a mistake? You knew it was too good to be true, Crane must have messed up, put you on the wrong list – you knew deep down that it had to have been a screw up, you weren’t meant for this, weren’t smart enough – and now Doctor Carver is going to rectify that mistake.

The walls close in on you, the passage getting narrower and narrower. The building is scaring you and it would be one thing if this was just first day jitters but it’s not, whatever it is you’re feeling, this suffocation, it’s not the first time it’s happened though this time it’s stronger. Rearing its head right into the center of your chest to knock the breath out of you. Others pass you by, patients and staff alike, and they all acknowledge her in some way or another.

Her office is the opposite of Crane’s. It’s bigger, though that could just be because of how clean and neat her office is organized versus the mess he made of his. The sun filters in through the windows, clear and bright, not a speck of dust floating in the air. Photos and degrees, awards and newspaper clippings line the walls and even her desk speaks to who she is: cute, little tchotchkes and colorful pens.

Your nerves are at ease here.

“Please sit.”

“Well, you made quite the impression on Crane and that’s very, very hard to do, so, I applaud you for that.”

“Oh, well, thank you, guess it was just my natural charm.”

“I don’t want you to feel singled out from the other residents, that’s not my intention, but I just wanted a moment to talk to you one on one. I trust Crane. We’ve worked together for a long time, so when he took a shine to you, I didn’t really need to hear anymore. But with that, it means I haven’t had a moment to get to know you and to be successful here, in this residency, you need to make connections. And since we haven’t had the opportunity to lay the foundations down, we are going to do that now.”

“Okay, sure,” you squirm in your seat. The leather creaks and stretches. “How do we start?”

“I’m going to interview you.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t able to hear your answers, only read Crane’s perspective of you. It was a leap of faith to just let you on the program without meeting you. As much as I trust Crane, I have to trust my own judgment too.”

“Hope I don’t mess it up this time.”

“Don’t worry,” she clicks her pen and smiles, “I have faith in you. Let’s begin.”

It’s easy enough – she asks the same questions that Doctor Crane asked you, so you parrot your responses from that interview. They worked enough to get you into the residency, they should be plenty proficient to keep you in it. It goes back and forth, your answers are no longer passionate, just a mimicry, floundering to remember what must have been perfect answers.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, there is,” she sighs, “This is not what I was looking for. I don’t want the answers you’ve given to Crane.”

“Then what are you looking for?”

“You’re already in the program. That means I can’t rescind your spot without cause and a heap of paperwork. You just started. I want honest answers, passion. That’s what I look for in my residents. Not perfection, not a rehearsed script. I’m not Crane and you are going to learn just how differently we run things here.”

“Honesty? Passion?” you shake your head, “I was both of those things when I went into that interview.”

“Yes, but we’re not in your interview with Crane. We are here.”

You chew the inside of your cheek and try to push down the lump of embarrassment in your throat. She’s your supervisor and it would be best not to get on her bad side by arguing with her. It’s always been a struggle to hold your tongue and it doesn’t matter that she is right, it’s hard to admit your fault of seeking perfection at the expense of being transparent.

“Okay,” you clear your throat, “Repeat the question please?”

“Why do you think you belong here?”

“Why? The last decade of my life has been leading up to this moment, pushing and pushing through another year, another month, another day, another assignment, another rotation. I wouldn’t have put myself through hell and gotten into debt if I felt like I didn’t belong here. All my life I have been this aimless thing, drifting from one thing to the next because I was so unsure of what I wanted or how long it would last.

“I’m not interested in your maximum security patients. I’m not here to make a name for myself by rehabilitating masked criminals. I’m not here to make aname for myself at all. I’m here to help people, not use them to climb the social ladder. I belong here because I know I do.”

She looks at you while she jots her own notes down. “That’s better.”

It’s been two weeks and you are utterly exhausted. It’s better than the schedule you had during your rotations in med school but you’d had nearly a whole month free of work before coming to Gotham and diving headfirst back into a full time schedule is grueling. Your feet hurt from being on them all day and breaking in new shoes that left your toes and ankles raw and blistered.

You’re alone at a table in the breakroom. One of the nurses sleeps on the couch, feet elevated on one of the pillows. She has the right idea. You look down at your lunch and push it away, the idea of eating no longer appealing. A nap will do you better. The only couch is already taken. Slouching over the table will just have to do it.

You get maybe twenty seconds of peace with your arms crossed on the table and your forehead pressed there before someone interrupts your much needed nap.

“Ah, Rohl, I was wondering when I’d see you.”

You perk up immediately. You don’t care much if Carver or any of your other superiors catch you dozing off, they understood well what this job takes from a person, but to slack off in front of Crane, even on your break, seems like a punishable offense. He’s a no nonsense man, blunt and doesn’t care about overstepping boundaries. He’s far up enough in the food chain to evade complaints. Crane is also massively feared. You ask anyone here about him and they whisper his name like saying it too loud will summon him. You don’t know how true any of that is, you only met the man once.

“Tired already?” he quirks an eyebrow at you. “Don’t tell me you’re already burnt out. I had highest hopes for you out of the rest.”

You try not to smile at his comment. Him, the great and renowned Doctor Crane, the man whose papers you read throughout grad school, had high hopes for you. You brush your hair over your shoulder and look down at the table and say, “I’m alright.”

“How are you settling in?”

“Just fine, sir,” you gesture to the stack, “Doing some light reading?”

“Yes.”

You wait for him to expand on it but he doesn’t. “Okay.”

Crane looks much better than he did last time you saw him, the only time you’d seen him up until now. His hair is slicked back slightly and dressed in a tawny suit with no creases marking it. He’s handsome in a strange way with his long, thin neck and slight frame. He’s almost delicate. In comparison, you look like a wreck with your shirt untucked from your skirt and your feet bare, and a run you think you have in your pantyhose going down your inner thigh but you haven’t stopped to check in the bathroom yet, you can just feel something off.

“Are you taking your lunch?”

“No. I was on my way back to my office and decided that coffee would be a benefit considering...” he pats the stack of files at his side. “So much to go through. Notes and observations and the like.”

“Research?”

“Yes. One of my subjects is on the edge of a major breakthrough. I’ve been waiting weeks for it.”

You can’t help the yawn that escapes you and for reasons unknown, you feel the need to apologize for it.

“Perhaps a coffee for you?” he offers.

“That’d be nice. Thank you.”

He deposits his files on your table, they land with a loud thump, pages spilling from the folders. He doesn’t mind, probably never does given the state of his office the last time you were there.

It’s odd seeing him doing something so mundane as filling a coffee filter with grounds. He’s always been a distant figure to you, just an abstract idea because you only knew him through his work. Seeing him do things regular people do is dizzying. Him making you coffee even more so.

The doctors get up and leave. Eugene is one of them, you notice, and he stares at you before glancing at Crane.

The air is easier to breathe now that there are no conscious witnesses to this strange interaction with him. You don’t see this being a regular thing with him – taking the time to talk to people beneath him in position. The rumor mill is sure to be ablaze given that it was Eugene that saw you with him.

“You don’t have to worry, you know, your reputation isn’t at stake.” You regret it as soon as you say it.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Crane holds still, shoulders stiff. The nurse turns in her sleep.

“And just why,” he starts, voice low and on edge, “would my reputation be at stake?”

The coffee begins to drip out.

He turns to face you, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle and leans back against the counter. You open your mouth and then close it. You don’t know how to phrase it without sounding presumptuous. It’s too late, you’re sure, you’ve already grabbed his attention by mentioning his reputation, you’re sure he won’t let it go any time soon.

You groan and drag your hands down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I met Doctor Carver that first day of orientation. She, uh, she said that you insisted on me getting a spot in the program and made a case for me, said she wasn’t really impressed by my answers in our interview. I don’t know, it’s just that, you seem to be the reason I’m here and you vouching for me, that reflects on you, and anything I may or may not do.”

“Do not sell yourself short,” he turns back to the coffee pot. “Though, I suppose a ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.”

You grin. So much praise, more than you suspect he ever gives in a single day, a week, a month!

“Well, thank you, Doctor Crane.”

When the pot is full and the coffee poured, he asks for your preference and you see his stoicness break just a little, the slightest downward tug on his lips when you tell him your preference for light coffee. It’s gone as soon as it appeared. He pours the creamer, you can hear it, not see his hands work as his torso blocks your view. You hear the clink of a spoon against the ceramic. Once again, you are entranced by him.

He places the mug in front of you and still he stands.

“You can sit. Unless you have to go.”

He hesitates. You see his eyes shift back and forth over the room. And your heart breaks because you know what he’s looking for. He’s waiting for people to pop out at him, to laugh and mock, to rub it in that this is a joke because why would anyone invite him to sit with them, to eat with him. You know too well that cruelty.

“I don’t bite,” you make an X over your heart and smile, “Promise.”

“A minute or two wouldn’t hurt.” He pulls out the chair opposite from you and sits down.

You nod. The mug has a swan on it, its wings unfolded like it’s about to take off into the sky. You wonder, briefly, just who it belonged to before it came to this break room. The coffee smells like heaven, it is better than the antiseptic smell of the hallways or the stench of the fire in the common room. You’ve never been so excited for a cup of coffee before.

It’s terrible.

You try not to grimace, try to school your expression like Crane, you don’t want to hurt his feelings even if you suspect that isn’t easy for anyone to do. The coffee is as light as it can get while still calling it coffee. Oh. The water. You remember what he said. It seems so long ago now. The pipes. You continue to sip your coffee even though it’s terrible and is not the kind of drink that’s an acquired taste.

He pushes the spilled papers back into their folders and when that’s done he fidgets with them. You don’t take him for a nervous man. He’s uncomfortable, you think.

You sit in silence, let him get used to your company. He doesn’t pick up his mug once. Jonathan Crane watches you in earnest like you’re the most fascinating thing here; and maybe you are, you are the newest thing in the break room. You wouldn’t mind the staring so much if it wasn’t in such a public spot. Anyone could walk in and that nurse could wake up at any time. How scandalous.

He fiddles with the pen clipped to one of the manila folders.

You finish your coffee before he speaks again.

“Any plans tonight, Rohl?”

You shake your head, “Not that I’m aware of. You?”

“I’ll be observing my subject tonight.”

You bite your tongue. Like you’re observing me?

“I hope it goes well.”

That brings about the end of the already brief conversation. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks he is, he’s just painfully out of touch with others which is ironic given his line of work.

The nurse wakes up and groans. You duck your head when you see her look around the room. Crane notices and looks over his shoulder.

“Until next time.”

He gets up and leaves just as the nurse pulls her shoes back on. His coffee, you notice, is untouched and left behind.

The day continues on. You don’t see him again.

You’re almost out the door of the breakroom, legs heavy and arms stiff, when Mariam catches you by an arm and tugs you into the small circle of doctors and nurses. Everyone speaks so easily to each other and it reminds you that you’re at the bottom of the hierarchy here. You’d never been good at making friends and you were jealous of those that could do so easily. You stand quietly though Mariam still has a grip on your arm.

Then as suddenly as you were pulled in, the group fractures and files out the door.

“C’mon! We’re all going out for dinner and we want you to come with.”

Your thoughts are of home, of taking a long, hot shower to help loosen your muscles and going straight to bed. It’s good, it’s comfortable. But you think of how lonely it is there with no one to greet you. You were a lonely child who grew into a lonely teenager who grew into a lonely adult. The cycle seems endless but a fate of your own decision and inaction – too scared, too shy to step one foot out the door when needed, it’s easier to feel safe and comfortable than to go out into the unknown. It’s tiring though. You don’t want to be lonely anymore. You’ve already taken one step in the right direction.

“Please?”

There’s nothing better waiting for you in your apartment and after all, you just got paid.

It’s a nice restaurant, not too expensive, but you’re all packed into a booth because Eugene didn’t want to wait for a table. There’s not much room to move without bumping elbows with someone. Nobody seems to mind and as the night wears on, you mind it less and less. It’s easier than you thought it would be thanks to the help of a drink or two. You’re not at Arkham, you don’t have to be professional, you can be loud and crass and laugh freely here. The food is good and the company even better. Outside of the workplace, you find you like your coworkers more.

Thankfully, Eugene doesn’t mention the little moment he saw you having with Crane.

Mary Anne, a nurse you haven’t had the pleasure of working with one on one, is recounting a story, you can’t tell what of though, not with the objection of some of the other nurses and doctors that have worked at Arkham for years. They jeer and boo her but she just laughs and points around the table.

“You newbies better hear this.”

“Oh god, please shut her up, Elise!”

“I can’t hear this story again.”

One of the doctors finishes his new beer in one go.

You lean forward, mimicking Mariam across from you who just raises her eyebrows in amusement.

“Okay. So. When I first started, I had the overnight shift. Not a lot happens on the night shift after midnight. It’s me and an orderly doing our rounds, checking on the patients. Everyone is dead asleep. It’s nice and calm and then we hear this sound like a gurgling and groan. So, I take that boy by the arm, and we go down the hall to investigate and there it was! Some girl was walking down the hall. I ask her what she’s doing out of bed and the girl doesn’t answer me. I try to turn her around and my hand just passes right through her shoulder. She was pale as a sheet, cold as ice and when she turned around she had all the blood on her face like it was leaking out of her from every hole. And she just shrieks at me! Couldn’t sleep for a week after that and demanded I get taken off the night shift.”

“Well, did the orderly see the ghost?” Elise asks.

“Yes.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Quit the very next day.”

“Exactly! That’s how I know you’re full of it. It was just you and you got your superstitious ass scared by a shadow and all those movies you watch.”

It delves into a petty argument between everyone but you, content to listen and laugh as they debate the existence of ghosts.

You were terrified of ghosts as a child. In your mind invisible hands were grabbing at you, pulling you under to their world, a half lived existence where neither food nor drink would satisfy, where they couldn’t feel the sun on their skin or the wind in their hair. You couldn’t bear the limbo of it. Your mother exasperated those fears with her own belief and contempt.

You don’t believe in them anymore.

“You guys don’t know?” Mariam says.

“Know what?” Elise asks while laughing.

“This guy, Jason Blood, he owned the land before it belonged to the Arkhams and he was into the occult, real nut job. He would take people or the Gothamites would give them to Blood for payment and he’d perform exorcisms on them and—”

“Bullshit!” Eugene exclaims.

“—when that didn’t work he locked them in hanging cages, starved them until they would repent their sins and then take them down from their cages, one by one, and kill them to rid the world of evil spirits and purge their souls. Killed like fifty or so people.”

It’s silent while you absorb the new information. Maybe Crane was right, maybe Arkham really did sit over the mouth of hell. If the story is true, such great pain and sorrow must have leached into the ground, soaked all that blood up like rainwater. Add to it an asylum built in the late 19th century. There’s at least 150 years of history here and it couldn’t have been without its skeletons, without its own controversies and abuses.

“You made that up.”

“I swear, I didn’t!”

“There is no way that’s real. Jason Blood… What the hell kind of name is that?”

Mariam, again, grabs you by the arm and pulls you aside while everyone else loads up into taxis or ambles off. “Are you going to be okay walking home?”

“Yes, mom. I only had one drink. Plus, I only live a few blocks away.” you place your hand over hers and squeeze it gently. “I have your number. I’ll text you when I’m home. Promise.”

“Okay.”

You wait with her. The dispatch said it would be five minutes. She never loosens her grip on you.

“Eugene told me he saw you talking with Crane.”

“So?”

“So? No one is ever just talking with him. Everybody gets scared out of their minds when he bothers to show his face.”

“Oh, come on. He’s not so bad. Just blunt.”

“And rude.”

Her cab pulls up and you lead her in. You wave at her as the driver starts to pull out onto the street. You’re alone again, waiting in the warm light coming out of the restaurant windows.

You take the long way home. In truth, you weren’t ready to part with your coworkers. It was fun, you felt alive, like yourself again after hours of conversation. Life feels good and meaningful again. There’s something out there for you.

Your apartment is only three or four blocks up the road, but you go the wrong direction, which really isn’t the wrong way, just a longer, more indirect way home. It’s one with a destination in mind. Not the one Mariam thinks you’re going. She would scold you. Gotham is dangerous, especially at night and when you’re alone. You heard the stories of the Batman. Just knowing someone is out there who cares about the city and its people makes you feel safer, a little more bold.

But even stories can’t take away the feeling of being devoured. You’re not used to city life, the tall buildings that seem to be all glass and the ongoing construction make you dizzy. All your life you lived in places that never had buildings taller than 10 stories, and even buildings of those heights were rare. The universities you’ve attended had all been in small towns where the main draw was the university, over half the population would be there just for school, Wal-Marts crowded with aimless college kids looking for something to do, coffee shops filled to the brim with study groups. There was not a single place you could feel alone growing up; the exception— your own home.

There’s a park that you want to go to but never have the time to see. Right in the middle of Gotham CIty, a patch of pure greenery in a concrete jungle.

The park is closed when you get there, technically, but the alcohol had fanned a spark of recklessness in you. You climbed over the gate with some ease. Only your pantyhose catching any repercussions for your actions.

You walk the paved path. It winds through the grass, separating the wooded area from open fields of grass

You miss home. The big green canopies of the trees, laying in the grass and letting the sun filter through the leaves, bespeckling you in its light. You miss a life where you didn’t have these obligations that filled your time. It was dizzying, hours spent with just yourself and the birds for company, where nothing could touch you. No worries. The green was all you needed.

This is different.

Without the sun out, the wooded area is like a giant maw, dark and hungry, waiting for a wandering soul to seek it out so it can swallow you whole. You sit across from it on a park bench, watching back.

The trees rustle in the breeze, the only sound out here this deep in the park. They blot out the high rises from the sky and eclipse the city lights. It’s so dark out here, so quiet. Not even the walkway lamps are on. Only the stars in the sky – the ones that can cut through the light pollution – light your way. It’s peaceful. You close your eyes and just listen.

Chittering. A hoarse whisper. Your name drifting through the stiffening air.

You look out into the open maw of the forest.

Red eyes stare back.

That last trance of inebriation is wiped out by sheer fear. You scramble from your seat and take off running, your lack of endurance no longer a problem with the shot of pure adrenaline pumping through you. You should know better, you do know better, but you look behind you. Its hulking presence behind you is just a shadow, there’s no details of the beast chasing you down.

You fall on the pavement and crawl over to the field, scrambling to stand as it slows down its approach. It’s taking pleasure in this, eating up your terror and savoring each bite until it can have everything. You gain traction and run again towards anything – another person or the gate that surrounds the park. You’re lucky not to fall again but you should have stayed on the path.

There’s nothing but open field and you can see the city in the distance but you have no idea how far away it is, not without any lighting. The path led somewhere, it guaranteed you an exit not more than half a mile away. Nothing is certain here, only that something is chasing you.

It’s still chittering behind you.

You don’t look behind you again, not until you reach the fence, hoping against hope that the weak fence would keep it in the park. It easily vaults the barrier between you, an unstoppable force driven by the need to devour. It reaches out to you, strokes its spindly finger down your cheek, lips stretching out into a smile, revealing crooked and pointed teeth ready to sink into your flesh and you close your eyes tight in anticipation for the inevitable strike. It says something in that hoarse whisper again. The finger is gone and when you open your eyes, the beast is completely gone.

You can still feel it.

You can still feel its red eyes watching you as you hurry back to your apartment. You keep your head down, trying to ignore its presence like it will vanish if you don’t give it your attention. You should have gone straight home from the bar and maybe this terror wouldn’t be following you home, sniffing out your fear and playing with you. It pretends it’s not there, hiding in the shadows of alleys and up on rooftops but you know it is there and it knows you know.

Sanctuary!

The lobby’s yellow light shines out the glass doors like a beacon and you scurry up the steps, fling the door open and make a break for the staircase. The elevator is slow and by the time it comes you could already be dead.

The enclosed stairwell is all concrete, no carpeting to muffle your footsteps. Whatever was out there has followed you in. Your steps click and shuffle with each step up you take and each landing you hit. That beast knows exactly where you are going and will know exactly what floor you will step off on. It will follow you further into the building until it has you.

The thing’s footsteps speed up just as you reach your floor.

No, it’s only your footsteps you hear.

That thing isn’t following you, didn’t even make it through the glass doors.

You exhale.

You're safe. Your apartment is right there, just within reach, right down the hall. You will go inside and bolt the door and lock your bedroom door and hide beneath the covers. It will all be a bad dream in the morning, a stale memory that you can't make out beneath the fog of a hangover.

Your hand searches. Fingers grasp at everything but your keys. Pens, coins, receipts, lipstick.

The elevator dings. Your head snaps up to look down the hallway. It stretches, longer and longer, and snaps right back into place so fast it makes you dizzy. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest and ears, blood rushing so fast you can’t hear.

The doors open.

The beast. The phantom in your hotel room. The Scarecrow.

He hulks in the space, tall enough that he has to hunch his shoulders and tilt his head, that malicious grin stitched into the burlap sack moves. He’s going to eat you whole.

Your fingers find purchase on your key ring and you yank them out, spilling the contents of your purse in your hurry. It doesn’t matter, not now, not when his hands grab the sides of the elevator and he propels himself forward into a sprint, arms stretched out to snatch you up and steal you away.

You manage to unlock your door, his fingers peeking through to grab at your arm and with all your might, you slam into the door and catch them between the door and the door jam. He howls. You open the door to let him pull back and you push your back against it and fumble with the lock.

It’s tempting to look out the peephole but you can only put your body through so much fear. You check the contents of your purse to see what you dropped. Everything important is still in there and your keys are still in your hand. There is no need to look to make sure the coast is clear.

You check your windows to be sure they are locked and lock yourself in your bedroom.

What did the scarecrow want from you? Was it even real? It had to have been. There’s no reason you would hallucinate like that. You kept an eye on your drinks the entire time, no one could have slipped anything in them without you noticing. It was too terrifying to be real. A creature of contradiction.

You slide into bed, still in your clothes and press yourself into the corner you mattress is in and pull the covers over your head. Nothing can hurt you here.

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #the original crane and rohl interaction was MUCH more sarcastic and terse but i was like hm. no. lay the foundations for something kinder.#and more upsetting.#my writing #dc imagine #im transformed

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l4m3nt · 1 year

Text

chapter one of Love Letter Bouqet

Momoka never liked Valentine's Day. All the hearts and cutesy shit reminded her that she’d probably never get to have something like everyone else did.

Which, by extension, meant she hated White Day just as much.

Which is why she was looking down at the ground when her and Leiko were going to their lockers. It was also why when a piece of paper and a flower fell out of her locker when she opened it, she felt more confused than she ever was in class.

“Ooo, did you get something?” Leiko asked, sass in her voice. Momoka rolled her eyes and picked up the paper and flower. The flower was a pink camellia and in good shape. Leiko put her arm on Momoka’s shoulder and craned her neck to see the paper. “C’mon, c’mon, read it!” She smiled. Momoka adjusted the paper so it was easier to see for both of them.

I know today is a day to reciprocate the gifts given before, but you being here is already enough of a gift for me.

Momoka’s face turned beet red. Not only was it super sappy (which Momoka would never admit she was a sucker for), but the flower was really pretty(Momoka liked that too).

Leiko laughed next to her, “Hot damn! Is this really what it takes to get Momoka Owada to blush?” Momoka’s head snapped to the redhead. Now, Momoka wouldn’t say she was angry, but she hadn’t ever had someone even maybe do something like this for her. So she might’ve not had her guard up as high as it usually was.

“Kuwata, shut the hell up.” She growled. It wasn’t her worse, but it always got Leiko to back off. The offending girl put her hands up in mock defense, “Alright, Alright. Seriously though, I wonder who it is.”

Leiko looked around while Momoka kept her eyes on the paper, still in a small state of shock. “You and Toru are friends, right?” Momoka nodded slowly, confused by her question. “Hey, Toru! Come see what Momo got!” Momoka looked up at Leiko, and then behind them. Toru looked weirded out, but was walking towards them anyway.

When he got there, he looked down at Momoka’s hands and quirked an eyebrow, “Wh-what’s that? Is that a camellia?” Leiko snickered and Momoka glared at her. “Yeah. Opened my locker and this stuff fell out.” Momoka said. Toru took a glance at the paper and smirked. “Who-who would w-want to give s-something like this to you?”

Leiko attempted to hold back a laugh but failed miserably. “HEY! THE FUCK YOU LAUGHIN FOR!” Momoka yelled, grabbing Leiko by her shirt. Toru was a bit worried that Leiko was about to get her head bashed in, until he heard the clacking of boots.

“Shisuta, what is going on here!” By that point, Kiyomi was right next to the trio, who all looked at the hall monitor. “Oh, hey, Kiyo!” Momoka smiled, dropping Leiko instantly. The baseball player adjusted her shirt and backed away, closer to Toru.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Momoka! Why were you grabbing Leiko?” Kiyomi furrowed her eyebrows, her red eyes burning into the biker girl’s soul. Momoka stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked down at her feet, her hair dropping down into her face.

“Sorry, Kiyo. I got pissed cuz she was laughin’ at me.” Kiyomi shook her head lightly and pulled out a detention slip. “I understand, but you still need to keep control of your anger.” When she gave the slip to Momoka, she turned to Leiko and crossed her arms. “And why were you laughing at her, Kuwata?”

Leiko laughed nervously. She knew that if she told Kiyomi, her chances of getting out of this alive would be promptly stomped by Momoka (this was punctuated by said biker’s death glare).

But that was until Toru stuttered out a response for her. “Y-your ‘sh-shisuta’ got a l-love letter.”

Kiyomi's eyes widened and her face was overtaken by a pink blush. “A-ah! I see.” She said. The hall monitor started writing another detention slip, this time for Leiko. Handing it to the redhead, she tried her best to regain her stern face. “You and Momo have the same time, so I expect you to behave!”

Momoka and Leiko nodded. Kiyomia bowed at them and then walked away, her ponytail swishing behind her. As she left, Toru said that he needed to go to the library. Leiko looked at Momoka and smirked, “You should try and find out who it is. Maybe you’ll actually get some dick. Or pussy. That’s always an option.”

Leiko shot out a short comment about needing to go to practice, and ran off. Momoka looked at the paper and flower still in her hand. There was a chance this was a joke. There was a chance whoever this was wouldn’t be able to handle Momoka.

But there was also a chance that this someone was genuine. That they wouldn't care if Momoka had an outburst, or, god forbid, she told them about the accident.

That shouldn’t have been enough for Momoka to make a decision, the risks most definitely outweigh the rewards. But she was, for some reason, hopeful. It was probably really stupid, and she’d probably regret it later, but she wanted to find out who did this.

After all, they had to have already hung out with her a bunch if just her being there was a gift.

#ishimondo #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #genderbend #fanfiction #leon kuwata #toko fukawa

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partialdifferentials · 2 years

Text

220624 AB6IX in Chicago

Because I don’t think I’m going to journal about this one. Unnecessarily detailed as always

Finally, after forever I get to go to a seated concert. I got there a little before 5 because I wanted to hand out stuff. But they let us in like right before 5 so I never actually got to, whoops. But a lot of people had freebies! I ended up with so much stuff lol. I liked the venue. Free parking!!!

For soundcheck, they did Cherry and Red Up. Woong and Donghyun kept peeking out before it started. Suddenly someone screamed and we were all like ??? Woojin had a hawaiian shirt on lol. This is the first time phones were allowed during soundcheck so I took the opportunity to take pics then. Actually I filmed way more than I usually do. I guess because I was less concerned with ~seeing them with my own eyes~ like I usually am with my faves

The venue was only about half full. I know it must suck as an artist to see that but as someone who gets overwhelmed easily I appreciated how it didn’t feel crowded.

Their outfits were really pretty! There were actually more performances than I was expecting for a “fanmeeting.” I’ve realized the value in knowing the songs beforehand... I haven’t really listened to many of their releases in the past 1-2 years. But they did do two of my favorite songs, Blind for Love and Surreal. They also had a post-it note question session. Two girls were trying to get them to pick theirs so they screamed “we wrote in glitter pen!!” and Daehwi was like “I need to repent?” lmaooo but tbh that’s what I heard too. Oh but the first one they picked was Tina who I know has done events and stuff for them, it’s nice to see a dedicated fan get this chance! One of the questions was what’s your favorite dinosaur and Daehwi said he didn’t have one, I don’t remember the other answers. Whatever questions they picked, they invited those fans on stage and let them ask questions and stuff. There were 2 kfans picked and they kept their faces covered the whole time lol. One of them asked Woong to shake hands.

In the second half they also called up 4 fans from their tweets to the stage. They let 2 people ask questions. The first one asked about places to go to in Korea. The second asked if cereal is a soup. There were some divided opinions. BUT the funniest thing is that (all 4 took polaroids with AB6IX) when it was that girl’s turn, Woong said cereal is a snack (not soup) and then called cereal girl loooool.

They actually talked to the audience a lot. They took the time to read signs and there was someone dressed up as Ash. Oh there was also someone wearing Daehwi’s outfit from Rose Scent Kiss and he asked, “Where did you get that from?” and she said she made it. I think during the ending ment Woojin asked if we were ready and he was like “really?”

I came in holding an Woojin slogan but I’m a Donghyun fan now. He was the most engaged out of all them. The other 3 were definitely less so... I know someone (Daehwi?) mentioned the day before on pm that they were getting tired. I think that’s why Donghyun stood out so much while performing (in a good way), he was enjoying himself at least. Was kind of surprised with Woojin, he looked like he was just going through the motions. I didn’t see Woong that much but when I did he was cute. I felt like Daehwi was trying to be sexy a lot lmao. But I think he sang live the entire night!!

Another thing I want to mention is the lack of “kpop opportunists” (as I heard for the first time today lol). The people at the front knew all the fanchants and everything, and phones were up but not obnoxious (at least from my pov, in the back. It was the first time in a long time I didn’t have to crane my neck to avoid phones in my view!) I obviously can't say for sure everyone at the front was actually an abnew but the vibes were definitely more genuine than they have been. I'm really happy for those fans! I hope they had a good time.

Hi-Touch went super fast. Even faster than my Wanna One hi-touch. I think the order was Daehwi, Woong, Donghyun, Woojin? I wanted to tell Donghyun I’m his fan now but he definitely did not hear lol. I put my phone in my pocket to see if it would pick up anything and you can only hear them, you can’t hear me at all. So they for sure did not hear anything lol.

Overall I’m glad I went! I was able to get a VIP ticket for $100 (less than fv) so I think it was worth it. I bought my ticket a week before the show just in case something came up.

#in conclusion: stan donghyun #ab6ix #AB6IXinChicago #concert #fanaccount

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silverdelirium · 3 years

Note

Can I request a very filthy smutty blaise with ass kink and size kink? 🥺

MESSY OFFICE | B.Z

SUMMARY ➠ coworker!blaise teaches you a lesson and fulfills his dreams of fucking you silly.

WARNINGS ➠ oral (male receiving), tad bit of shoe fucking, dumbification, degradation, praising, rough sex, ass kink, size kink, lots of dirty talk, rushed ending. this if filthy lololol

———

blaise took a deep breath before slamming his fist down on the wooden desk of his office. the papers that were placed on top of it went flying around at the sudden movement.

his hands were shaking with irritation. if that fucking landlord could just shut the fuck up about his rent for one second-

the male’s thoughts were cut off by small, rapid knocks against the door. his brows knitted in confusion at the unanticipated invasion.

“come in!”

the door creaked as you entered the room, peeking your head through the doorway at first before going in, shutting the door behind you.

your presence emitted a groan from him. he knew that the moment you both spent time together it would somehow end in a screaming match, and blaise was not in the mood to be dealing with anything right now.

you gave him a sharp glare in response before opening your mouth to speak. yet you were cut off by your own silence as you studied the state of his office.

everything seemed so rustled and chaotic— there were papers thrown in the floor, some were even crumbled and a few candy wrappers were tossed around. “what is this mess?” you spoke, tone lacing with disgust as you picked up an old folder from the worktable; his hand was quick to swat you away, scowling you before leaning back on the desk.

“what do you want?” he squinted at you, roaming his eyes down your body suspiciously— mentally slapping himself for staring at your breasts longer than planned.

“what the fuck is up your arse today?” you scoffed, crossing your arms and walking closer to him until he had to crane his neck down to look at you.

blaise’s chest heaved up and down as he quickly undid the top button of his shirt, turning away from you and taking long strides around the room. he closed his eyes and really hated himself for wanting nothing more than to shut that smart mouth of yours with his hardening cock. it was too much for him— and if there was one-way blaise loved to take his stress out on, was sex. and god— that stupid little skirt of yours that was begging to be lifted and reveal that sweet cunt that plagued his mind at the worst moments was the last push he needed to man up and fuck you as he had always wanted to.

you observed him in silence, watching how he mumbled something to himself about ‘i can’t think of her like this.’

quietness ran across the walls for a few moments before blaise was back in front of you, muttering a “fuck it” and connecting his lips to yours.

the fleeting kiss had you bewildered for a few seconds, eyes wide and mouth unmoving as the tall man held the back of your head in his palm. you didn’t kiss him back at first, but you didn’t protest either. and you’d be dammed if you didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to get fucked brain dead by blaise zabini.

but who could blame you when you kissed him back with the same— maybe even more— force; it was messy and heated all at once, the frustration that you sensed from earlier was being poured in that kiss. teeth were clashing together as his tongue pressed down on yours, drawing out a breathy moan from you.

blaise cupped your rear with both hands, lifting you in an unforeseen manner, causing you to squeal lightly until you felt your bum being pressed against the cool surface of his messy desk.

he was the first to break apart from the kiss, breathing steadily as he stared down at you— even from your perched up position he was still a few inches taller.

“i’m not gonna hold back” he warned, searching your eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation that you might feel. but he was far from finding any, you wanted blaise to fuck you until he was poking out of your tummy and you wanted it now.

“i don’t care” you breathed out, reconnecting your mouth to his and almost missing out on that keen groan that came out of his mouth.

his large digits scurried under your skirt, unzipping it in a quick motion and pulling it down your legs until it pooled on the floor.

he teasingly ran his index finger up and down the soaked cotton that covered your pulsating pussy. “blaise— please” you shamelessly plead, throwing all your morals out the window and not caring about anything else but being rutted over and over again.

“look at you. begging like a well paid whore when you were being a smart ass with me not even ten minutes ago.” he chuckled, taking pride in the way you whimpered in response, bucking your hips up onto his fingers. “what is it, baby? you want me to fuck you until that dumb baby brain can only think about my cock, yeah?”

his words struck a bit of sense into you and you huffed in response— “are you actually gonna give me what i want and fuck me properly or are you all talk?”

you messed up and you messed up big; you could tell by the way hir pupils dilated and the slow touches against your clothed pussy stopped. his tongue darted out to poke on his left cheek as he laughed lightly, stepping back and harshly bringing you down the desk.

“i’m gonna fuck your throat until you learn how to keep useless stuff to yourself, princess” he warned, signalling down to the floor as he unbuckled his belt.

you tentatively got down on your knees, lightly scraping them against the wooden floor as you rubbed your thighs together, pawing at your lap as blaise’s erection appeared in your view of line.

was that supposed to fit in you?

blaise seemed to notice your unsureness— “you alright there, pretty girl?” his tone was softer, less stern yet with the same accent of authority he always carried.

“i— it’s… big.” you let out, feeling the tip of your ears grow hot as he chuckled before picking up a more alluring timbre “oh i’m gonna make it fit” he winked.

you swallowed thickly, already picturing the delicious stretch this man was gonna provide you. he stroked his large cock sensually before making a beeline with it to your lips, which were already parted in expectancy; he went to tease you for it but was cut off by his low moan that got provoked as the warmth of your mouth enveloped his pulsating tip.

his digits tangled themselves in your hair, good girl’s and just like that’s slipped from his mouth every time your tongue swirled around his head. and the slickness that was pouring out of you was suddenly too much to ignore— hence why you reached down to attempt and soothe the burning sensation. blaise was still enthralled with the way your worked those lips that he had dreamed of having against his around his cock— his hands tightened around your scalp as he thrusted rapidly against your mouth, desperately probing for an orgasm.

a muffled whine came from you as he fucked your throat repeatedly, causing him to look down at your teary eyes, eventually settling his irises on your hand rubbing your greedy cunt.

blaise tutted with a hint of disappointment, making your movements halt as you batted your eyelashes up at him innocently as if your mouth wasn’t stuffed with his cock that was ready to shoot its cum down your fucked out throat.

you went to furrow your brows when he kicked your hand away gently, replacing your fingers with the point of his leather shoe, your wetness already leaking down on his footwear as you whined around his cock, making his hips buck involuntarily at the vibrations— “i was gonna reward you for sucking me so well, but since you’re such a desperate slut you’re gonna have to fuck yourself on my shoe while i throat fuck you, yeah?” he asked demanded.

a weak nod was all he got in response before he was back to gripping your hair in his fist, spit drooling down your chin at the abrupt pace he set without even a warning— not that you minded.

your hips rolled slowly into his shoe, swollen clit fizzing at the stimulation; his shoe hit every right nerve ending, the sounds you made around his cock were filthy and lewd, only making his balls grow tighter as he stilled his hips, rope after rope of cum flooding your mouth.

you moaned lowly against his cock at the feeling of his warm cum spraying down your throat.

he gave tattered breaths and moans as he pulled out of your mouth, barely even taking notice of the whining mess you became, his foot now long gone from your oozing cunt.

“get the fuck up” he breathed out, staring down at your already fucked out-state— saliva all over your chin, along with a few tears decorating your frowning face as you stood up. his large hands came to cup your face, delivering a small kiss on the corner of your mouth before placing his mouth next to your ear and whispering “i’ve been trying to translate your frowns and find out what your fucking problem with me was before bending you over my desk and fucking you stupid.”

you could’ve easily moaned at his words alone if it weren’t for his lips linking with yours in a crazed kiss as he guided you towards his messy desk— which was about to be a whole lot messier.

his hands reassuringly squeezed your waist as he turned you around, his once again hard cock rubbed against your ass as he planted kisses against your neck, sucking on certain spots that had your eyes rolling onto the back of your head— his fingers making quick work of getting your shirt off, throwing it somewhere around the room as he separated himself from your now marked neck, leaving you in your undergarments that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“i’ve been waiting to fuck you senseless for so long, baby. you don’t know how many times i spent with my hand around my cock dreaming about your tight pussy around it.” he groaned out, pushing you forward until your breasts squished against the desk, shuddering at the cold of it.

his palms massaged your left ass cheek before a harsh slap was delivered to it— and his mouth wasn’t there to cover the pornographic moan that came out of you this time, pushing your bum against his hardened dick in anticipation.

blaise grabbed a hold of his cock and steadied himself with a hand on your bum, squeezing. before he moved your panties to the side and teased your pulsating entrance with his tip, groaning slightly at the way your pussy almost swallowed him in as he pushed the tiniest bit in, coaxing a loud cry from you.

“so so tight, princess” he praised, pushing himself all the way in with a single thrust, arousal already gushing down your thighs.

the male wasted no time and in a few moments he had you with your mouth gaped open, eyes going crisscross with every un pitying snap against your hips of his.

“can you feel me all the way up in your pretty guts, baby girl? you like having this slutty cunt being taught a lesson, huh?” he growled out, eyes trained on each bounce of your ass as he sped up— the clapping sounds were enough to give away what was happening to any passerbyers outside his office; not that any of you minded at this point.

“oh! fuck blaise— right there! right there!” you babbled out, shutting your eyes tight as he brought you up with his bicep against your throat, making you loll your head back on his shoulder as his dick continuously hit that spot inside you.

blaise’s other hand snaked around your midriff, pressing down on the evident outline of his cock going in and out of your tummy. “look at me destroying your pretty little insides, sweetheart, bet you won’t be able to sit on this pretty little pussy for the next week” he cooed at you before slamming you forwards until your cheek pressed against his rattling desk.

“don’t stop! don’t stop please!” you sobbed out, squeaking lightly when his palms crashed down roughly on your ass, groans and moans echoing around the room like a chant— the pit in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the second.

“i’m cumming blaise, i’m fucking cumming” you gasped out, lifting your head back up and pointing your nose to the ceiling as you came all-around blaise’s cock with a loud ecstatic moan.

a whimper passed by your lips as blaise continued to fuck you through your high; and it took him one look to look at the mess you left running down yours and his thighs for him to be pumping you full of his cum, steady thrusts that had him hissing as you clenched around him for a final time.

he pulled out of you to watch his cum blow out of your overstimulated pussy, the aftershocks of the intense orgasm still causing your muscles to spasm every once in a while.

“you made my office a whole lot messier” he grunted out, pointing down to the puddle that fell in between your legs, causing you to flush instantly as he chuckled and pressed light kisses to your temple.

———

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