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eagerbby · 2 years

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ʙᴏᴏ? - ᴇ.ᴍ

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| It was supposed to be a joke, payback, revenge, until it spiraled completely out of control. Just your luck.

an| inspired by the prompt "I hid in your closet to scare you as a joke but when you came in you started masturbating and I can't just get up and leave but if I get caught in your closet you'll think I'm a pervert I regret my life choices" from here. my brainrot is thriving.

warnings| 3k, masturbating (m), reader being a perv obvi, illusions to sex, 18+ folks

part 2

It escalated quickly; too quickly to even process what you were doing, and what you were doing wasn’t even a good idea to begin with, but it was the only thing you could think of.

The Hellfire Club was currently in the midst of a rather heated prank war, started of course by their relentless leader himself, and you had slowly been dragged into the cruel web he had begun to weave three weeks ago.

It was annoying at first, Eddie jump scaring you every chance he could. Jumping out from behind the cafeteria doors, slamming his hand against the locker next to yours while you were in deep thought digging through your own locker, or four days ago when he hid in the backseat of your car only to reveal himself once you’d hit five over the speed limit on the main road home; you almost crashed your car that day because of him.

He was a menace and although the other guys had it much worse than you, Eddie seemed to take more pleasure from simply spooking you. But at least it wasn’t shaving cream in your book bag like poor Gareth or when he stole the chains off Mike and Dustin’s bikes before school ended leaving them stranded -although he did give them a ride home after they got down and praised King Eddie- in hindsight you were getting off pretty easy in comparison.

But still, that last prank got to you, the seriousness of almost wrecking had scared you shitless. Enough that you had to pull over on the side of the road, trying not to break down in front of him. He had felt bad, you could see it on his face as he tumbled into the front seat and begged you to not cry, but you were just so mad you kicked him out of your car and drove off.

That’s how your little plan came to fruition. You skipped your last period just to make sure you’d beat him to his cozy little trailer on the outskirts of town, greeting his uncle Wayne as you ducked under his arm and into the living room.

“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” He asked, blue eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Gonna scare the shit outta your devious little shit of a nephew.” You say simply as you fill a glass with cold water from the tap.

Wayne catches the wild glint in your eye, the mirror image of the one his nephew harbors in his own big brown ones. The older man could only shake his head, muted blue eyes dancing with amusement as he said..

“Give him hell, dollface.” Before he’s headed down the porch steps to his beat up Chevy truck.

Which brings you to right now, stuffed tight in Eddie’s messy closet, the fake fur of his creepy Alf costume tickling the back of your neck, your heart thudding loudly in your chest when you finally hear the loud wail of metal and the screeching of tires against gravel.

There isn’t much to your plan here other than jump out and make him scream. Make him regret fucking with you so hard the past three weeks. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since you both almost died -he’s lucky you had just got your brakes changed, a week earlier and you both would have been seriously hurt- which meant he wouldn’t be expecting your revenge, instead thinking you were still pissed. Which you kinda were, but he didn’t make it easy. He’d been groveling nonstop since it happened, bringing you little presents in hopes you’d forgive him, and you had but you still wanted revenge.

You hear him as he bounds up the steps, humming to himself, he slings the front door open followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. Your fingers tremble in anticipation, adrenaline bleeding heavily from your pores. It’s unbearably stuffy in his little closet, sweat beading on your forehead and between your breasts, and the only light comes from a crack in the sliding door giving you a full view of his mirror. You can see him in its reflection, coming down the hall with his wild hair bouncing around his shoulders, eyes locked onto the cassette in his hands.

He enters his cramped bedroom and goes straight to his tape deck, the pink tip of his tongue trapped between plush lips as he stuffs the tape in and hits play, surprisingly turning the sound to a reasonable volume. As the music softly spills from the speakers he shrugs out of his denim vest and jacket combo, pulling his black tattered Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves haphazardly cut off over his head. As he tosses it to the floor, the lyrics of the song he’s skipped to floods your ears. You know this song, love this song, fuck, you showed him this song. He’s humming along to it as he kicks off his sneakers, shimmies out of his black ripped jeans, calloused fingertips gliding gently down his soft tummy into the waistband of his boxers.

Okay, what the fuck. You clamp your eyes shut before you can see too much. This is absolutely, positively, not part of your plan. His bed springs groan as the lyrics echo around his room and you sit in his closet with your hands over your eyes trying not to breathe too loud.

Let's get away, just for one day,

Let me see you stripped down to the bone.

It was your Depeche Mode cassette, the one you’d lost a couple weeks ago and tore your room and car apart in a frenzy to find. You never did and now you know why; because you dear friend Eddie had stolen it.

Fuck this, you think to yourself as you raise off your feet in the cramped space. You’re about to bust out, ask him why he sat there and listened to you whine for days about your missing tape knowing full well he had it, when you hear something that makes your body freeze.

It’s soft, gentle as a breeze, but loud enough to still hear over the song playing from his speakers. A moan, shaky and almost desperate, and you can’t help when you peek out the slit of the door and catch sight of him in the mirror. Your mouth goes dry, eyes so wide they must be bugging out of your head, you’re looking into a mirror except you can’t see yourself, no, but you can see him and the sight is fucking beautiful.

Eddie’s laid out long ways across his bed, bare feet planted on the shag carpet just a couple feet from your hiding spot in the closet, his eyes are closed and his fist is wrapped tightly around the head of his cock.

“O-oh f-fuuck.” He whines, thumb dragging across his weeping slit, smearing the precum that beads there across the red mushroom head of his rather thick cock. Jesus, you had shamefully imagined what he was packing under those tight pants he always wore, usually alone at night in your bed, but never did you think you’d actually see it. Especially not like this.

Oh, this is wrong, so fucking wrong. You shouldn’t be here right now watching him thrust up slowly into his cock, shouldn’t lick your lips as he roams his hands over his bare chest, his fingers tweaking a nipple making his cock visibly twitch at the sensation. You shouldn’t be wet between your legs, squeezing your thighs together as best you can without moving much or making any noise. This is perverted, sick and twisted, a complete violation of Eddie’s privacy, but what are you supposed to do? You should have jumped out as soon as he came in, should have stopped him as soon as he got his shirt off, but instead you stayed frozen in place among Eddie’s clothes and now it was too late. You couldn’t just cover your eyes and leave, no that’d be horrifying for the both of you. Which left only one option; wait for him to finish and hope to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he leaves right after.

But that’s also a problem because you can’t not hear the pretty moans that fall from his lips. Can’t ignore the way the bed frame creaks as his hips pick up a steady pace. Can’t stop looking into that stupid fucking mirror and biting your lip at the sight of him completely lost in his pleasure.

You are so going to hell.

“Oh, fuck, baby. J-just like that.”

Your pussy floods at just the mere sound of his voice, clouded with lust and his impending orgasm. You can see how close he is, his tummy flexing hard as his hand fucks his cock faster. He isn’t gentle with himself, not like before, fucking his fist with fast sloppy thrusts of his hips as he presses his head back into his ruffled sheets. You can’t peel your eyes from him, can’t stop the constant squeeze of your thighs as your body begs for some kind of friction. And you definitely can’t stop the looming thought that if you get caught Eddie will probably never talk to you again.

You wouldn’t blame him.

There’s a new song playing but you can’t really hear it, aren’t even paying attention, not when Eddie shifts up to lean on one elbow to watch himself work. He gasps at a rather rough flick of his wrist, biting his lip as his eyes flutter closed, his long black lashes dancing across his pale skin. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, watching intently through the mirror.

You watched porn before but this, this was better than anything you’ve ever seen, and if you weren’t such a coward -and if you weren’t hiding in his fucking closet- you’d fall to your knees in front of him. Beg him to come all over your face, down your throat, in your tight pussy. You’d find your filthiest words, bat your eyes all innocent, drag your nails over his hairy thighs, just to see him cum. To watch his face scrunch up and mouth fall slack as he painted you all pretty in his hot seed.

Yeah, if you didn’t get caught -and probably still if you did- you were so using the sight of your best friend fucking his fist to get off later.

Maybe you were a pervert after all.

Eddie’s moans are getting louder, hot breathy noises falling from his bitten lips, he’s visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open, obviously lost in whatever scenario he is conjuring up behind his eyes. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your skirt as tight as you can, trying your best to restrain from shoving your hand underneath and thrusting your finger deep inside your tight, wanting, hole. His fingers would feel so much better, long and thin, you know they must be talented considering how good he is with a guitar. All this thinking has your chest heaving, hands shaking, breathing slowly in and out of your nose. You can feel your willpower slipping away, gone without a trace, you need him to hurry up. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to handle this much longer.

But then Eddie says something so out of left field, so far from anything you’ve ever heard come from his mouth, that your brain completely malfunctions.

“Just like that, y/n. I wanna be inside you so bad, baby.” It’s all a tangled whine, your name a quivered pant, and you gasp so loudly you make yourself jump, backing up deep into his closet as you watch his head spring up.

Silence. Horrible, retched, silence as you cover your mouth with a shaky hand and close your now watery eyes. He heard you, you know it, and now all the heat and blood have left your aching core to wash over the apples of your cheeks. Hot like lava, the embarrassment of being caught doing something so wrong makes your eyes water.

He’s never gonna speak to you again.

There’s a click as the tape deck stops and then the drag of his closet door sliding open and you want to drop dead where you stand.

“Y/n” Eddie asks, all quiet and gravelly, arousal still heavy in his throat. You can’t look at him, can’t dare raise your eyes away from your feet.

“Boo?” Out of all the things you wanted to say, that was the only word to come out, soft as a whisper.

“W-What are you doing?” Good question, you think. What the fuck are you doing?

“It’s not what you think.” You say quickly with a dark humorless chuckle, eyes bouncing to his before you completely fucking regret it and lower them back to the floor. He looks too good right now with his pupils blown wide and a sheen of sweat on his bewildered face. “I was go-gonna get you back for scaring me so much, but then you started…” You gesture your hand in the direction of his cock, braving a quick glimpse before slamming your eyes shut. He’s still naked, standing in front of you with a pillow covering his bare waist, and it’s just too much.

“How much d-did you hear?” He asks softly, shuffling from foot to foot as he scratches the back of his neck. His nervous tick.

“Uhm, well, not… not a lot…” It’s kinda comical how unbelievable you sound and Eddie must think so too because he huffs out a laugh as he backs up to his bed, plopping down on the side of it and adjusting his pillow shield.

“So you heard everything then. Fucking fantastic.” You step out of the closet finally, shuffling quietly against the carpet as you close the door back and face him, hands clasped together in front of your chest.

“Are- Do you hate me now, Eds?” You ask, perturbed, fiddling with the black and red yarn bracelet around your wrist. The same one Eddie wore; a friendship bracelet he’d given to you after the first time you’d hung out one on one.

Eddie seems puzzled by your question, going to stand before he quickly realizes he’s only wearing a pillow. “Wait a second, will ya?” He asks and you nod covering your eyes as if you hadn’t just been watching him jerk off. When he's done, presumably getting dressed, he taps your elbow and when you don’t uncover your face, he grips your forearms softly and guides them away. He offers you a friendly smile when you meet his doe eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” He says softly, the heat of his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin.

“I would.” You mumble, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I thought you were mad at me?” He asks, trying to catch your eye but you’re too busy counting the tears in your worn out converse.

“M not mad. I just wanted to get you back.” You offer and out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod.

“Glad you’re not mad still.” He says and then, “How’d you get in, sweetheart?”

“Wayne let me in, before he left. I skipped last period to get here before you. I swear, Eddie, I only wanted to jump scare you like you’ve been doing to me for the past month, I-I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do when you started..”

“Hey,” He chirps, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, and you try not to think about where that hand just was because if you do you’re gonna start thinking about the sounds he made while it was wrapped tight around his- no stop it.

Even in the middle of the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had, your thoughts betray you with images of his hot, rock hard, cock.

“It’s no biggie, really. I should have figured something was up, Wayne never leaves the door unlocked.” He’s fucking smiling at you now, a full smile that shows his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes and for some reason unknown to you; it really irritates you.

“No biggie?” You cry, pushing him away from you, and his face falls but you can’t handle him being so close to you right now. “You just caught me spying on you while you jerked off, but it’s no biggie?”

“Yeah, no biggie. No big deal.” Eddie draws out his words, hand rolling in the air as he elaborates. “I’m not mad at you. No biggie.”

“Eddie, I feel like such a perv-” You start, eyes still watery with shame, but Eddie cuts you off.

“You literally watched me jerk my dick while thinking about you, I think we’re both falling pretty hard on the pervert line here, sweetheart.”

You look him in the eye, finally, trying to judge if he truly means what he says. You find honesty, and something else you can’t quite decipher, with his gaze locked onto you and you nod and give him an unsteady smile before sinking onto the edge of his bed.

“‘M sorry.” You tell him. “Really.”

Eddie shakes his head, sitting down next to you in only his boxers, and places a hand on your bare knee. That fire surges again, deep in your bones, shooting through you like a bullet at the small contact.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m no worse for wear because of it. Kinda-” He trails off for a moment, reaches back to scratch at his neck again. “Kinda hot thinking about you watching me without me even knowing.”

Oh. Oh.

You really should have figured he’d be into it. Little freak.

“Was kinda hot watching you…” You offer shyly, biting your lip as Eddie beams at you.

“Yeah?” He asks, his nose scrunching up all cutely as his cheeks flush.

“Mhm, you know I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever right?”

“Okay, don’t fuck with me like that.” He warns, umber eyes searching your smiling face.

“Not lying.” It’s simple, matter of fact. Eddie blushes even deeper.

“Well, fuck.” He runs a hand over his face, unable to wipe the cheesy smile from his lips. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I feel the same, huh?”

You laugh at this, leaning your head onto his bare shoulder. “No, I think I got the message in technicolor. You could put the porn industry to shame, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna give me a big head, sweetheart.”

“You already have one, Eddie.” You say, eyes falling to his lap.

Eddie chokes out a laugh in disbelief, shoving you back onto the bed to hover over you.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Who woulda thought.” He teases with his face buried in your neck, lips ghosting across the sensitive skin there.

“Don’t you have Hellfire Club or something, you horn dog?” You ask acerbically and yet you still push your hips up to meet his when he bites down on your jugular.

“Mhm, they can wait. Found something better than playing D&D in a cluttered theater room.” He hums against you, lips following the curve of your jaw with feather light kisses.

“The guys would kill me if I was the reason you didn’t finish the campaign tonight.” You push him back by the shoulders smiling up at him as he watches you giggle at the sight of his bangs lifted up off his forehead.

“I can always just kill them all, they’ll be more mad about that.” He dives back to your neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin he can find, and as much as you want to stay here in his bed and fuck like bunnies; you’d hate to be the reason he was late. So you push him again, harder this time, until he rolls off you with a groan, slamming his fists into the mattress as you stand.

“You know I never got to cum, right? I’m aching right now, need you to help take my pain away, baby.” He’s pouting, lips jutted out, eyes like a puppy, and everything in you is screaming to give in to his guilt trip, help this poor helpless man out.

But that wouldn’t be any fun. So you lean over him, hands on either side of his head, and kiss him slowly. Mold your lips against his, drag your teeth sensually over his bottom lip, give him the most sultry look you can muster. It must work because his whole body shudders under your, desperate hands snaking up your skirt to grab your ass.

“Go to Hellfire, Eddie.” He groans at your words in disappointment, head falling back into his sheets.

“You’re mean.” He whines, slapping his hand firmly onto your ass cheek. You hiss at the pain that ebbs to pleasure and take his jaw in your hand, forcing him to look at you again.

“You didn’t let me finish. Go to Hellfire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a helping hand after.” You lean down, tongue grazing the shell of his ear before whispering, “A helping hand, an open mouth, a tight wet pussy.”

Another shiver and his hand gripping tight on the back of your neck pulling you up so you can see his wicked, lopsided, grin.

“That’s not helping my little problem, baby.”

You giggle. “There’s nothing little about your problem, Eds.”

Eddie groans loudly, covering his face with the back of his arm but you’re swatting it away, giggling at his fiery red cheeks. You shower his face with kisses, every inch of rosy skin, until he's pulling you into his chest and caressing the edge of your jaw as he gazes at you with stars in his eyes.

The look in his eyes tells you your friendship is no longer that, instead there's a promise lying in his shimmering irises, something that was always there but you could never figure out the meaning to it. Maybe you were always destined to be more than friends, maybe this crazy -fucking bizarre- series of events was fated. You and Eddie, not as friends but as something more. Maybe the two of you were written in the fucking stars or something.

You’d like to find out.

So you kiss him once more, different than before, savoring the way he follows after your lips, how he cradles your head so tenderly as he kisses you back with the same fervor. Too soon you’re climbing off of him, smoothing out the pleats of your black checkered skirt as he watches with that endearing little pout.

“Lets go, Dungeon Master, the masses await thee.” He takes your outstretched hand, raising to his feet. He looks down at himself, in only his green boxers, and smiles at you all cheekily.

“Think they’d still respect me if I showed up like this?”

You pick his jeans up off the floor and place them in his hands. “Mm, probably not. But I’ll help you get undressed later, like I said, helping hand and all.”

“Fuck, my little minx.”

#if you see me posting this and not updating my other wips no you dont #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson

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cats-in-the-clouds · 2 years

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for me personally back when i was a crazed young internet leftie, abortion was the one thing they never managed to change my mind on. and i think it’s because 1. it’s probably the easiest to argue against from a secular/purely ethical point of view (not that you can’t do so for the other issues but they’re trickier) and also 2. it’s like the one modern controversy that they were willing to actually touch back in Catholic school. they were willing to condemn the atrocity that is abortion to young kids and teens who like. didn’t even know where babies came from. always found that kinda funny. but i guess as long as you know what pregnancy itself is then you get the gist.

but nobody wanted to talk to the kids about the various issues surrounding gender and romantic/sexual attraction. they never wanted to teach that because they never even wanted to touch that. possibly because back then it honestly wasn’t even a mainstream topic yet- it was still just some horrid taboo to be laughed at in passing at most (which just absolutely sucks no matter what you believe- nobody should be mocked for a feeling they didn’t choose). but if you don’t teach your kids about a topic, then someone else will do it for you. and if that someone is wackos on the internet, your kid is fresh outta luck.

i didn’t start hearing actual well-formed Church arguments on sexuality and gender stuff until i was in high school and already indoctrinated otherwise by hyper liberal internet circles. it’s a miracle i met this one really great teacher who finally explained stuff in a way that made sense to me because otherwise i probably would’ve gone the rest of my life hating the Church and hating myself.

anyway basically proper Catholic education makes a world of difference and people need to find a way to incorporate it into the lives of the kids they’re raising/teaching. without seething with contempt or insensitive, ignorant mockery. because the depressed girl who’s convinced she’s a nonbinary lesbian or whatever sitting in the back of the classroom hearing you say some nasty crude stuff that demonstrates how little you understand about her life experience is not gonna wanna jump into Jesus’s arms is all i’m saying

#idk did anyone else have this experience #dang i went through those phases of thinking i was in love with my best friend #in hindsight i think i felt that way because she was basically my only friend and i was just so desperate for any kind of human connection #i didn’t even know how to tell the differences between different types of ‘em #also wanting to be nonbinary and put she/they in my bio #in hindsight i think i felt that way because i so desperately wanted to be something special #and pick out some pretty colored stripes to decorate my life with #shopping for identities and labels like clothing #i wanted people to hype me up so i could be one of them and be cool #i’m lucky that phase didn’t last very long #like it just kinda faded away and i think the moment i realized that i instantly understood that it was for the reasons i listed above #like maybe i always knew #i was undeniably female no matter what i couldn’t pretend otherwise #i was also undeniably very sad and messed up

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bookofbonbon · 4 months

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all a lie - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Warnings: Abusive relationship. Death. Descriptions of dead person. Spoilers for TBOSBAS.

Summary: Your relationship with Coriolanus Snow was all a lie.

Word Count: 1k+.

A/N: Sad girl hours. I found the angst fic. I HAD TO THROW IN THE DESTIEL LINE HAHAH (please tell me if you catch it - it's very obvious lmao).

Your engagement to Coriolanus Snow was an arranged one. It was no secret. Everyone in Panem knew. History would report that it was a pre-arrangement between best friends and co-creators of The Hunger Games, Crassus Snow and Casca Highbottom.

Details would emerge how when Crassus Snow’s wife birthed a son and Casca Highbottom's wife a daughter, the pair of bestfriends wanted to join their families; intertwining two of Panem’s most influential families for an eternity.

Feature after feature of the upcoming wedding would be written and published; networks broadcasting far and wide for all to see. It was of course, a bonus that the couple were also in love.

The headlines would call it things like fate and true love, and the people of Panem would fall head over heels for it.

It was all a lie of course. A lie conceived by Coriolanus Snow. The arrangement, the engagement, being in love. None of it was real.

“I chose her also because I hate her,” you’d overheard him one day. A long pause; the drawn out silence broken only by the sound of his haughty laughter. You could hear the smugness in his voice. “She’s perfect.”

None would know that the arrangement itself was false but you were constantly reminded by those who were privy to the true nature of your relationship with him that you should be grateful. How lucky you were that the noble Coriolanus Snow would honour the wishes of his great father for you after the shame your own brought.

“You should be thanking me,” Coriolanus hissed, face close to yours and his grip tightening around your arm. “Your father damned you. If it weren’t for me, if I didn’t come up with this arrangement for you, you’d be nothing. I saved you. I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

The hardest part was that you were starting to believe it too. Reality and make-believe blurring into one - it was becoming increasingly more difficult to discern what was real from what was not; unsure of right from left, up from down. Everything snatched away from you in a moment's notice and you should be grateful. Everyone in Panem is happy for you but, you.

But, Coriolanus lied about the engagement, he was probably lying about that too.

Of course, it hadn’t always been this way. There was a time that existed when the two of you were friends, genuinely. Your father’s were friends, the very best and so were the two of you - you think.

In hindsight, you wondered if the downfall was inevitable, given the history; something broke down somewhere, your father’s weren’t particularly cordial in their later years. You had never thought that it would affect the two of you as well but, pinpointing when your own friendship with Coriolanus shifted into other was easy - the beginning of your mentorships for The 10th Annual Hunger Games and over the course of the next two months following that until it was dead… along with you father.

You groan, loudly and keel forward.

You press your free hand to your forehead but it doesn’t stop the barrage of images of your father’s lifeless body from coming to mind; slumped over his desk, nose bloody, face blue and a blank stare.

A journal would later be found amongst his belongings when Dr. Gaul and Coriolanus volunteered to clear out his things from the academy; a journal full of the ramblings of a mad, drug-addled man, that damned your father all to hell as a rebel. You were sure it wasn’t his - you couldn’t prove that it wasn’t.

But one thing that you were certain of in all of that, was that there was only one common denominator - Coriolanus Snow.

You try not to think about how his resentment for your father grew tenfold between reaping day and your father’s last, festering into something rotten. How this entire arrangement was likely revenge so, he would have you, Casca Highbottom’s daughter under his thumb and locked in his cage for the rest of your life to make up for the years of your father’s torment.

The newspapers would report The Revered Dean Casca Highbottom Succumbs to Morphling Addiction, despite the toxicology report finding traces of rat poison in his system; despite your father divulging that Lucy Gray used rat poison to win, smuggled in by Coriolanus Snow; despite you seeing Coriolanus Snow leaving your father’s classroom just moments before you found his body.

“Snow lands on top.” you’d watch him taunt your father’s grave on the day your engagement was announced.

Coriolanus Snow was never really your friend.

You think you might be sick.

You remind yourself it’s all hearsay and speculation, the official reports read accidental overdose and you’d push that small voice that told you otherwise further and further into the darkest crevices of your mind because Coriolanus Snow saved you.

“Darling,” Coriolanus calls, voice mechanical.

You remain seated with your hand pressed to your forehead for a few seconds longer until it clicks - he’s talking to you.

Hand sliding down your face, the band of your engagement ring is cool against your warm skin. Your elbow digs into your thigh as you rest your chin on your palm and look up at him with what you hope appear to be sober eyes and as best of a smile as you could muster, given your current state.

“The Vickers and Creeds are about to leave, we will see them out.”

Not a question but a command as he holds his hand out stoically for you to take; eyes swimming with restrained rage - had they always been so cold? Perhaps or perhaps not - not that you particularly cared at the moment, you just wanted everyone to leave.

If you could’ve, you yourself would’ve left the party a long time ago - a luxury unfortunately, not afforded to guests of honour. Not that you felt like a guest of honour. Quite frankly, nursing a migraine in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other whilst avoiding your guests for the duration of the night was not at all how you imagined your own engagement party to be but, that was exactly how it was.

There’s a familiar burning sensation in your nose, a prickling at the back of your eyes, the feeling of something stuck in your throat.

You hiccup and something akin to concern flashes in Coriolanus’s eyes but it's gone as quickly as it came - you were probably imagining it.

“Put the glass of champagne down,” he tells you and you do.

You want to laugh- or maybe cry but, instead you take his hand, intertwine your fingers, hold his hand loosely and your jaw tightly and let him lead the way.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coriolanus x you

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saerins · 2 months

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HeyYy I’m a little slow but how did eita and yn realize that they were into each other in that way or desired each other like that? (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN 😜) Like did eita just hit yn with “dtf? 😈” on a random Thursday orrrr 😭

extra chapter: blurred

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — part of priceless. eita doesn’t understand why it irks him seeing other guys hit on you. after one night together with you, he at least knows he’s fucked.

content: otoya eita x female reader. smut. takes place in university, before “friendship”. eita calls reader princess, alcohol, profanity, mentions of death, penetration, spanking, cunnilingus, virgin!reader, eita makes reader cum multiple times. word count: 3.3k

༝༚༝༚ hahahaha i am so normal about university!yn & otoya guys … so completely normal </3 side to nonnie: yn and eita have always found each other attractive ! they just never thought they’d go that far at first :)

you’ve always been like this, so why does it bother him more than ever?

two months. that’s how long it’s been since you two talked. for two people who always talk shit all day long everyday, that’s a long time. it’s eita’s fault. he knows. maybe he shouldn’t have been so vocal about how you should act. it’s not his place.

he knows that.

he hasn’t apologised.

it’s a saturday night, and you’re just out having fun with your course mates—it’s not illegal. and eita’s with his bandmates, and a date to top it off—some girl who came up to him after a performance and said she was a fan; in hindsight it was probably just to get into his pants and yet she’s still here, two dates later.

she’s here, and he knows she’s probably beside him wondering why the fuck he’s staring at some other girl when she’s grinding against him but he can’t help himself. no matter how loud the music, no matter how crowded the club, no matter how miss bombshell here rubs her ass against him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

you don’t like to club. you barely like those people you’re with. eita knows why you’re acting like this.

so unserious. so smiley. so forced.

“oi, takuya,” eita calls out to one of his bandmates, setting his whiskey, neat on their table. “she’s all yours,” he says, shoving the poor miss bombshell to his bandmate, her cries of objection going unheard because he’s making his way to you.

there’s a guy trying to feel you up, your course mate. what the fuck is his name again?

“yes, shiro?” eita hears you coo once he’s close enough.

right, shiro takanori. notorious playboy, almost as notorious as eita. born rich, heir to one of the most exclusive resort clubs in japan, already in a couple of big modelling gigs thanks to his naturally good looks. silver spoon, trust fund idiot who has his hands on your hips and such lustful eyes and that smirk that says he knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

unluckily for him, eita’s here. and like hell is he ever going to be so lucky to bring you back home to his mansion.

with a firm grip around your bare waist—because of course you had to wear something so sexy tonight, that black single shoulder strap crop top of yours—eita cuts in, only shooting shiro a warning glare before pulling you aside, dragging you behind him.

“hey, what the fuck?” you protest once he stops at the empty booth near the side. you sound frustrated, and upset, and somehow eita knows what the fuck is going on inside that little still-twisted mind of yours. “i was talking to him, you know?”

eita scowls, the most judgemental look on his face as he listens to you. “yeah? were you trying to seduce him too or what?”

there’s a defiant look in your eyes. you’re only a little tipsy, so you still have the better part of your common sense with you. “so what if i was? how’s that any of your business?”

what a way to have your first big disagreement since you became friends. this is the part where both of you are thankful that the music’s too loud for anyone else to hear you.

eita scoffs, tongue poking against his inner cheek as he looks at you in disbelief. he’s not an infinitely patient person. especially not when he’s looking at you not behaving like yourself. he takes a step back, leaning against the wall, hands in his pants pocket as he looks from the bigger picture.

your father just died not long ago. you have to deal with your mother and the inhumane way she treats you. you have to make sure you score well for everything lest they take your scholarship away.

you’re losing it.

probably.

so much so that you’re willing to look for someone like shiro takanori to relieve your pain. eita doesn’t get it—he’s right here. is he worse than shiro?

“you know what? forget it,” you sigh, your eyes glazing over, the potential tears betraying your spiteful exterior. you don’t say anything else before you’re storming out of the club, with eita struggling to catch up behind you.

he’s calling out your name but you ignore him. he’s sure. your hearing isn't that bad. and fuck because it’s raining and you’re too stubborn to stop and so is he so he ends up running after you, both of you soaked to the bone because it’s quite heavy and he thinks you find solace in it since it can mask your tears.

the intersection where the both of you meet before school starts because the diner you like is just around the corner—that’s where he catches up to you. eita’s fingers connect around your wrist and you try to yank it away but it’s no use.

“let go of me.”

the rain’s pouring all around you and your voice isn’t even clear but eita can’t let you go. not when he knows he’s guilty of leaving you alone when he shouldn’t have. all because of his stupid pride.

maybe he should’ve listened to you.

is that what you need? distraction?

it’s simple and complicated both at the same time. eita doesn’t care about your small crushes and fleeting flings, but why does he care so much back there, when he saw you with shiro like that?

before he knows it, his hand is pulling you in by the back of your neck, his lips on yours and it’s so much better than he imagined. yeah, he’s imagined what it’d be like to kiss you recently, for some reason. and you must really need the distraction, because you’re kissing him back.

“what was that for?” you ask, breathily, foreheads pressing together as your fingers fist at his shirt.

it takes everything in eita to pull away, not that it’s because he has any form of self control when it comes to these things, but partly because of the rain and partly because of the conscious fact that you’re one of his best friends and that until tonight, he never thought he’d actually ever cross a line with you.

eita ignores your question because it’s too tempting not to. “let’s get out of this rain, it’s all your fucking fault,” eita murmurs, though his strong words are cancelled out by his hands around yours as he walks with you in the direction back to the dorms.

“here.” eita tosses you one of his clean jerseys, the one he wears for the national team. you once told him that’s your favourite one. you always steal his shit. “i need that for my next game though, so don’t stash that away.”

you snort, “didn’t know you realised.”

eita looks at you from over his shoulder, white hair matted against his face, a squinted stare as he deadpans at you. “of course i did, you stole three jerseys and one windbreaker.”

just like you are when you’re around him, eita realises you’re so shameless, your grin lighting up your face. “and you let me.” because you of all people know he always asks for his jerseys back, especially after all his random dates try to wear it and never return it. (he’s already gotten in trouble for that with his coach once.)

do you even know what you’re doing? eita thinks you don’t. it’s just the way you are, it’s how you act—this is all natural to you, not forced.

his gaze falls to your bare skin not concealed by your crop top, to your legs under that pleated skirt. thank fuck he didn’t let you get too carried away with shiro.

“change and then get out,” eita tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. he doesn’t think he can stand another minute with you here looking like that; hair a mess, soaked top to bottom, makeup slightly smudged and yet still looking like a fucking vision.

it’s very annoying, actually.

why’d he have to insist on making friends with you that day?

“mean,” you mumble, and eita ignores you. because you need to get out of here, and fast, before he regresses to fifteen minutes ago when he couldn’t control himself. and you’re like a spoiled brat, purposefully saying shit that you know will get under his skin. “hm, maybe i’ll ask shiro if he’s still at the club.”

shit like that.

“are you—” but the moment eita turns around, you’re suppressing a grin. stupid, just trying to rile him up. but it’s not like you won’t go looking for it—distractions. you will. you’ll look for bad news because that’s what you need right now.

he gives up. he gives up on trying to play the role of a good friend. you’re testing his limits and it turns out they’re not really that high. and lucky for you, he’s always found you pretty. you’re so fucking pretty and you’re interesting, even with the way you’re inching closer to him right now.

“fuck, you’re too much,” eita murmurs under his breath, the last of his will being stripped away. he’s already letting his hands pull you closer.

“i can always find someone else,” you whisper, both of you avoiding each other’s gaze.

“don’t you dare.” no, eita doesn’t want that. fuck, why doesn’t he want to share? he uses his fingers to tip your chin up, searching your eyes for the answers he already knows. “you wanna forget, y/n?”

you nod, the recollection of everything that’s happened within the past few months already threatening to make the tears fall. but eita catches you before they do, because he knows you’re so stubborn that you’d rather hold everything back than let them out, even if it’s him.

“just physical, ‘kay?”

eita nearly scoffs, but his tongue is too busy to let him. “yeah yeah, if you end up falling for real i’ll kill you,” he says, in between kisses, both of you ending up on the bed, eita hovering over your body as he marks your neck.

“don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

maybe it’s the fact that he never thought that he’d ever touch you like this, make out with you in his room, that he’s already hard as a rock even without doing anything yet. his mouth travels downward—neck, collarbone, chest—and your moans only get louder.

there’s a way that your voice makes him excited more than he usually is, the way your chest is heaving that urges him to devour you right then and there. his hands travel down to your thighs, pulling them apart, and the way your head pops up to look at him when his lips press kisses on your thigh—those sweet, innocent eyes—makes him pause.

“you’ve never done it before?” eita asks, softer in comparison to the loudness of the rainstorm outside.

and the moment you hesitantly shake your head, eita feels his heart beating faster in his chest. yeah, definitely a good idea to have taken you away from shiro. he swallows the lump in his throat, the idea that he’ll be your first seems strangely enticing.

it’s not surprising to him though, considering you’ve never had a boyfriend since he’s known you, and with the way you’re so stiff, anyone can tell.

eita’s hands smoothly caress your skin as he gets up, looking over your body once. “tell me if you ever want me to stop,” he tells you, hands travelling underneath your top, slowly lifting it up and off of you, your face tilted to the side, too awkward to look at him. you know he’s been with multiple girls—most of which you know are models and the like. it makes you a little self conscious of your own body, but eita doesn’t care. “look at me.”

you do, your eyes travelling to his face first, looking at the barely contained lust from behind his green irises. he’s already half naked, so you can see again now, just how toned he is, eyes shamelessly dragging over his form. but so is his, his hand now snaking up your thighs, pulling your skirt up over your stomach, the way you wear that bold lace lingerie driving him crazy.

wordlessly, you sit up on the edge of the bed, your boldness taking centre stage, fingers unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, the cunning in your eyes looking so, so attractive to him. you even know to pull a condom out of his pocket.

“i know you, otoya eita,” you whisper, and eita doesn’t doubt it. if anything, you’re probably the only person who knows him as well as you do. nobody else comes close.

he takes the condom from you, opening it with his teeth while you get rid of his boxers before handing it to you, a smirk on his face. “first lesson, innocent girl,” he says, a thumb caressing your cheek. “put it on for me.”

with a sneaky grin, you stick your tongue out, giving his tip a little kitten lick before anything else—what are you trying to do, give him a heart attack? eita can barely contain himself just looking at you like this; slightly wet and looking sexy as hell. fuck, he’s so fucked, he wants to know what it feels like to be inside of you so bad. a muffled groan rumbles in his throat, and you take that as a sign to lick a stripe up his length some more, making him throw his head back, taking the chance to roll the condom over his dick. his hand comes up to your hair and tugs on it, pulling you away.

“be a good girl and lie the fuck down, now,” he tells you, though it doesn’t matter since he pushes you down, immediately pulling your panties aside and relishing in how wet you are. soaking, and not from the rain. “nobody’s ever touched you there before, huh, y/n?” he wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

eita’s breath is hot against your pussy, partially covered by the lace before he tugs it to the side again, kissing the area around it, watching as you clench around nothing. “e-eita, please—”

he snorts—you don’t even know what you want, do you? you just know that you can’t get rid of the frustration by yourself. no, because no matter how you’ve ever helped yourself in the past, if you ever did, eita’s going to make you feel a lot better. good enough to make you forget everything.

he’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine, giving your clit a quick little lick, watching as you squirm just from that alone. resigning, he pushes a finger inside you—just one, he doesn’t want to break you just yet—watching your face as your back arches, the pleasured moan that rolls off your tongue threatening to make him addicted. you’re so wet and so hot and you’re his best friend but fuck that, he wants you. physically. every. single. part of you.

you’re already wet enough, but his mouth lingers longer on your pussy, licking your folds and tasting every bit of you. he likes the way you moan his name, and the way your fingers grasp at the sheets and his hair. you’re a lot more addictive than any other girl he’s ever met and fuck if he’s going to let this be the one and only time he gets to have you.

eita pulls his finger out of you, lining his dick in front of your entrance, moving the hair away from your face. you’re all hot and bothered and he really wants to know what you look like when you’re getting fucked. probably better than anything he’s ever seen—in person or on video.

he leans down, hands on either side of you, silently begging you to just tell him to stop but you don’t. your hands only trace a trail down his chest and he can’t keep still anymore.

“fuck, can’t take it anymore,” he groans into your ear, body pressed on top of yours as he gently nibs on your lobe. “i’ll try to go slow, okay? but you’re so fucking hot like this i can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

“just do it, i don’t care, i need you,” you tell him, all rushed and muffled because both of you are at your wit’s end.

that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s slowly pushing himself into you, groaning out your name as he feels your tight, gummy walls through the latex, your nails already digging into his back.

“you okay?” he asks, stilling for a moment.

“i’ll get used to it,” you tell him, feeling the burn from the stretch of your first time. “just fuck me already, please.”

shit-eating smirk on his face, he mocks you, white hair falling all over you, the messiness of it only making him look even more like bad news. he moves his hips achingly slow, watching every minor change in your expression, from the way your brows arch to the way you bite your lip.

“we’re alone in here, princess, don’t hide your sounds,” he tells you, a hint of condescension in his tone.

until tonight, you didn’t think you’d ever let him touch you like this, feel you this intimately. yet here he is, pushing your bra up and putting your nipple in his mouth while he fucks into you, tongue flicking at your perky bud, making you feel all sorts of things you’ve never experienced before.

and you listen to him, his name falling out your mouth more times tonight than it has since the time you’ve known him—his lips moving from your chest to your neck to your lips, hungry as if he absolutely needs to claim his territory on every part of you.

eita shifts so that he can look at all of you, watch as your breasts bounce as he thrusts in and out of you, watch as your slick coats the base of his dick as you beg him not to stop, as if he could. fuck, he could cum just like this but he doesn’t want it to end so soon. you’ve already creamed around him what, twice now? you’re sensitive, oh so sensitive, squirming at every slight movement, mewling uncontrollably as he pinches your clit, threatening to cum again when he turns you around, gets you on your knees, slapping your ass.

how the fuck is he supposed to fuck anybody else now when you’re the most perfect girl he’s ever seen?

you arch your back, propped up on your palms as you look over your shoulder at him, his hips still moving, controlling himself as he makes absolutely sure to savour this moment tonight.

but, like always, you always find a way to surprise him, mischief behind those eyes as you smirk at him; you smirk at him like you know how much he loves this.

“eita.” the way you say his name is so dangerous—like he’s caught in your web with no way out. “cum inside me?”

and just like that, he obeys, unintentionally, his body toppling on top of you, the weakest, guttural moan coming out of him ever as he feels you cumming at the same time too, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, riding you through it.

fuck, he thinks as he looks at you under him, both of you wet from the rain or sweating, he can’t even tell, but what he knows is that he’s so, so fucked after what happened tonight.

shit, he wants more of you.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #otoya x reader #otoya eita x reader #bllk smut #otoya eita smut #eita x reader #blue lock smut #otoya x you #otoya x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #otoya eita #૪ aeri’s fics !

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potatomountain · 3 months

Text

"Case: It's You" - 1

Chapter One

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective reader

📍Rating:

📍word count: 3.4k

📍network: @pirateeznet

📍Warnings: language and sexual innuendos

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 and @daesukiii

masterlist | Next

It was entirely too early, and too gloomy of a day, for your phone to be ringing for the near dozenth time in the last five minutes. After the hour trek, in the rain and a packed subway as well, you finally relented and picked up the call. “What is so important you have to call me twelve times, Ji?”

“Jeez it wasn’t that much-”

“No, that’s just the last five minutes. Heaven forbid I count the calls on the subway in the last thirty minutes. Spit it out.” Hissing, you held the phone closer, dodging one of the many men in suits rushing to their own places of work.

Jisung huffed on the other side, grumbling under his breath before speaking up. “I’m worried about how your first day is going to go.”

Rolling your eyes, you sidestepped a puddle, barely managing to miss the splash of a child rushing through it. “How are you more nervous for my first day than I am?”

“Because I’m sure you’re pretty angry right-”

“Of course I’m angry! Half the unit agreed to transfer me out! After three years Ji!”

“I know, I’m sorry. You’ll do great though! You’re really driven and have a strong moral compass, the organized crime unit is lucky to have you. Just… play nice? It’s not their fault you got transferred.”

You knew he had a point but you were loathed to admit it. With a sigh you approached the small detective precinct, the heavy rain finally slowing to a light drizzle. “No, but I doubt they’ll be too happy about the higher ups forcing a random transfer on them. Look Ji, I appreciate you worrying about me but don’t. I’m not supposed to have any contact with the S.K unit for a month after that last day, that includes outside of work. They already transferred me, I don’t want to give them a reason to fire me so soon.”

“Okay okay, hint taken. I’ll check up on you soon.” He hung up first, wishing you luck once more by name before doing so.

He really was right, you shouldn’t be so angry at this predicament. Sure it wasn’t your decision to get transferred out to a new Precinct, but it was your decision to go to this one. Which, in hindsight, was stupid. You had just named the first Precinct that you knew was furthest from the S.K and the homes of your former colleagues, hurt by their betrayal. Good intentions or not, you didn’t want to leave the team.

You didn’t want them to be right though either but being a detective was your dream, and the higher-ups didn’t want to give you a second chance after this.

Pocketing your phone and stepping under the small black awning, you closed the umbrella and placed it in the holder next to the door. If it wasn’t for the plague on the door reading A.Z offices, you might mistake the inconspicuous building for one of the many other office buildings in this district. There were several detective units in the city that operated outside of the police stations, but none so secretive.

It actually piqued your curiosity and excitement as you pulled the gray door open, greeted by a typical, but cluttered, receptionist desk and foyer. There was no one in sight, the pale blue gray of the walls the only color of otherwise bland decor. “Huh.”

There was a hall past the desk, some muffled voices carrying from an ajar door at the end. You were a few minutes early, but the door was open and they were expecting you- still you found yourself carefully moving down the hall, maybe to get an idea of who you were working with before introducing yourself.

As soon as you reached the door though, things went quiet. With nothing to eavesdrop on, you opted for knocking on the door, nudging it open before calling out. “Hello?”

Footsteps were heard before the entirety of your view was blocked by a vested chest, the door halting from opening further. “Who the fuck are you?”

Tilting your head back you blinked up at the towering figure, frown pulling at your lips. Out of all the welcome scenarios you had imagined, this hadn’t been one of them. Readjusting your bag your hands went to your hips and you jutted your chin out. “The new addition to your unit, detective.” You spat out with venom.

He seemed around your age, thick lips pulled into a scowl as he glared down the brim of his nose. “We don’t have a new addition.” He moved to slam the door in your face, but a new hand stopped it, slipping under the brute’s arm to stand between you. “Hwa?”

The ash-blonde detective had a professional smile on his face as he blocked the other one from staring you down. Before you could retort he spoke your name. “We’ve been expecting you. Detective Song here just forgot.”

“Forgot? I didn’t forget- hey!” The taller man was pulled away out of your sight, protesting the whole way.

“What do you mean new addition?” Another voice spoke up from behind him somewhere, which irked your already growing discontent for these men even more.

“Pardon me but, I don’t think the rest of your unit is aware there was a transfer to your unit- and that I start today.” Lips pursed, you held eye contact.

He shrugged, taking a step back and holding the door open for you. “I might have forgotten to mention to some of them, the point is the Captain and I are very aware. I’m Detective Park, the vice-captain of the unit.”

“I see…” You trailed off, turning your attention from the vice-captain to the rest of the room. There were three more men around the room with five desks in the center. It was a typical detective office, one wall full of pins and strings connecting faces and names you didn’t recognize, papers strewn about, computers and cords connecting the five desks that were all facing each other. Some filing cabinets, a second hall, and a door. Nothing about the room itself told you anything about these men- but they were all clearly handsome.

All men.

You didn’t like where this was going.

Aside from the vice captain to your left, the tall brute was being held in a headlock by an equally tall, slightly more beefed-out man with black hair and softer features. The other two were standing near the desk closest to the second hall, the stockier one with chestnut hair glaring over at you while sipping his coffee, the prettier one next to him watching you with more curiosity.

Internally you wanted to groan, turn around and walk back out because nothing about this felt like it was going to go well. “Is there another female here or just me?”

“Well…” Detective Park next to you shrugged, motioning for the others. “There are eight of us, all men. Captain and Detective San, and Detective Jung are in the field right now, but allow me to introduce you.” He motioned to the two tall ones. “Detective Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho. And those two are detective Choi Jongho and our technical analyst Kang Yeosang. Team, this is our newest addition.”

You bowed at your introduction, forcing a relaxed smile despite feeling so out of place already. “I’m in your care.” Standing back up, you turned to the Vice again. “Where can I set my things and get to work?”

He blinked in surprise, shifting uncomfortably. “Well, the receptionist desk will be yours.”

“Pardon?”

“Right up front there-”

“No no, I heard you, I’m just confused. I’m a detective, not a receptionist.” Again, your discontent was growing as you stared him down.

But it was a new voice that spoke, turning your attention. “Well um, we have all our bases covered and really don’t have a need for another detective. This is sort of sudden.” Yunho was his name if you recall correctly, although now he was making himself busy at his desk.

Pinching the bridge of your nose you let out a heavy sigh. “The transfer was approved two weeks ago after nearly a week of consolidation. I don’t think the board would approve a transfer for a unit I’m not needed for.”

“A new detective on the books isn’t something we need.” Mingi snapped out again, once more showing his distaste for you.

You wanted to lash back, to curse them out for the blatant disrespect and unprofessionalism. They had two weeks to prepare, only some of them knew you were coming and yet none of them bothered to put any weight into that?

“We’ll talk to the Captain and put you to work then.”

“Captain isn’t due back until the end of the week Hwa, maybe later if he and San don’t get what they need.” One of the others with a familiar voice spoke up. He must have been the one who spoke up earlier- Detective Jongho.

“That’s fine-”

“Fine?” Like a twig snapping, so did your patience. “I’ve been sitting on my ass for the last three weeks just to wait another? This is ridiculous!”

“Shouldn’t have transferred then, newbie.”

“You can take your attitude and shove it up your ass with your head, Detective Song, because the likelihood of me leaving any time soon is slim. Not unless you personally want to kiss and shine the Commissioners shoes!” You stepped forward, the man stepping up towards you in response.

“So this is why you got forcefully transferred? Can’t play nice?” The fifth voice startled you, just as deep and condescending as the man before you.

You swiveled on your heel to glare at the final man, sneering. “I play nice just fine- when I’m welcomed.”

“We never said you weren’t Detective-”

“You don’t have to!” You turned your glare on the Vice Captain. “Eight of you, with three offices and five desks- an empty receptionist, lack of communication on the arrival of a new Detective in your care- You have no means or intention of including me in this unit.”

As soon as the words were out there was a drastic change of tension in the atmosphere; the professional expression the Vice Captain wore was gone, replaced with a cold stare. One glance at the others and they all had similar expressions. “Truthfully, we do not, but until we can convince the Commissioner and board that you are not needed here, we have to put up with each other.”

“So buckle up buttercup, or get the hell out.” The smug smirk on Mingi’s face had you stiffening, but not from intimidation.

No, you always rose to a challenge even if it clearly wasn’t in your favor.

Taking the time to stare each one of the men down with a similar cold stare, you bid your time before finally locking gazes with Detective Park. “You should be aware, Vice, that I bite when threatened.” Straightening your back, as if you could any more, and holding your head high you turned towards the door. “That receptionist desk will have to do then; plenty of space for me to do my work. I’m sure you won’t mind at all if I make myself at home.”

“If you have the time.”

You didn’t care which one of them said it, slamming the door behind you because you expected them to do the same. Marching down the hall, past the small bathroom you failed to notice before, you took in the receptionist desk with a huff. It was empty, probably never used and just full of trash and miscellaneous decor that never got pulled out of the box.

“These fucking dicks think they’re just going to get their way? Over my dead body. Play nice Ji said, well he can go fuck himself too because ain’t no nice here.” Mumbling under your breath you immediately began organizing the desk, making use of the trash can under the desk. There was no stool, no electronics, not even a phone- but you could fix that.

There were other boxes in the foyer you hadn’t noticed, tucked away and out of sight. This room was probably a front for any bystanders that walked in, something to discourage anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here from snooping around.

At least it gave you plenty to do over the next week, knowing that until the Captain did show up, some things you would just have to deal without.

—

Your spiteful rage motivated you for several hours, suit jacket tossed aside and sleeves rolled up to your elbows as you cleaned up the now clutter-free desk. You had found some decent decor in the junk, using it to spice up the desk. It was waist high, with a ledge to hide the desk from the other side. A fake little plant and metal bowls of varying sizes now sat on that ledge, the desk devoid of anything but your work bag.

You hadn’t heard the door open or any sounds from the back, further indicating the distance they were trying to put between you and them. It just fueled your determination to stay.

Despite what happened with your last unit, you were a damned good detective, you knew that even without Chan reminding you often. While the S.K unit revolved around cases about runaways and crimes committed by minors, it was still a police force. This was no different, even if the unit operated differently, you could handle it.

Glancing around the space, you did feel a bit proud with how it was coming along. There was a pile of boxes and garbage by the hall, which you felt ready to take care of now. Picking it up, you headed down the hall, heels clicking on the wooden floor. The door was indeed shut, but not locked, and you swung it open with a loud thud. You heard something clatter on the other side of the room, but you ignored it as you dropped the boxes of garbage on the floor.

“What the he-”

“Take care of this will you.” Dusting off your hands you looked towards the nearest one, which happened to be Mingi and Yunho at their desks, but Mingi was half out of his chair. “Since this is your unit, you can handle the trash.” Turning on your heel you made your way down the hall.

“She didn’t leave?”

“Apparently not Min.”

You could hear them as you shut the door harshly, a smirk on your lips as you made your way back to your new work area. They really had no idea just how hard you were going to make this for them, and it brought a sense of pride.

You could easily be the biggest pain in their ass, all too happy to oblige. One week? You could make them regret it by then. Maybe you could make them regret it by the end of the day, it was only lunch time.

—

Having set out to get your lunch from a deli down the street, you were a bit annoyed to come back to your newly cleaned office once more full of the trash that you had tossed back at them. Setting your sandwich down, and with all the calm you could muster, you cleaned up the trash once more. Plastering a fake grin on your features you carried it to the back, only to find the door locked this time.

Frowning, you set the garbage down, took a deep breath, and then pounded on the wooden door. “Hello detective’s? I think you forgot something!”

No answer.

You just pounded harder and called out louder. “Hellooo?”

No answer again.

Grumbling, you gave the door a kick with your heel, leaving the garbage there and instead going back to your desk. Grabbing your phone you brought it back to the door, recording once more as you banged and called out, then sighed. “See what I mean Sir? I really think there was a mix up- I can’t even access the office. How am I a part of this unit?”

Just as you had been hoping for, the door swung open and the pile of garbage you had set against it went tumbling against the unsuspecting Vice Captain. You smiled up at him innocently, pointing to the recording camera and then saving it. “Your poker face is impeccable Vice, but do you really think it’s wise to lock me out?”

“We’re in a meeting.” He deadpanned, kicking some of the garbage to the side into the office. “You were being disruptive.”

“Me? Disruptive? I have no idea what you mean, I just needed to throw away this garbage for a second time, since apparently it can walk on two legs right back to my beautiful desk you so graciously assigned me.” Thick with sarcasm you added a bit of a pout to your tone, pointing to the boxes between you two. “I had asked Detective Song and Jeong to handle it since no one bothered to show me where it goes. You do have a proper place for garbage, right? This isn’t the only place is it?”

His features darkened as he leaned forward. “You should really watch your insults Detective- You don’t want to disrespect this unit any more than you have.”

“Oh so I’m disrespecting the unit? Hardly anything to respect when you haven’t earned it.” You sneered out.

“Okay okay- calm down you two.” Yunho came barreling forward, putting space between the Vice and you while looking a bit panicked. “We can’t get anything done if we are tearing each other’s heads off.”

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. “I have nothing better to do for a week, so I don’t see why not.”

“For fuck’s sake woman- you really are so mouthy.”

You glared past the two in front of you to Jongho who had a fresh coffee in his hands, sitting at the desk from before. “Give me a reason to shut up then.”

“I can give you several off the clock.” Mingi countered from his desk, leaning his palms against the surface.

You rolled your eyes. “I like dick, but not the personality type.”

“Enough!” The room froze with that one raised word, Yunho staring each of you down with a tick in his jaw. “We can all agree that none of us are happy with this situation… but for fucks sake we do have a job to do. Can you sit pretty until the Captain gets back and just hash it out with him? And can we all at least agree to try to be civil until then?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from retorting without thinking. This had been what you wanted right? But you weren’t about to be the first to agree.

Yunho glanced at each of you once more, lingering on the Vice Captain last. “Seonghwa? We can’t afford to have an ongoing battle with another detective right now, can we make some arrangements?”

He relented with a sigh, shoulders relaxing. “Fine. You three handle this garbage… and you and I will talk.” He breezed past you down to your desk which you hesitated to follow at first. You could hear Mingi’s grumbles towards Yunho but you didn’t care.

“We’ll supply you with wifi, a seat, and a phone. As for work for the week it will be menial or trivial things. When Captain Kim returns, you can discuss with him your role.” He said as soon as you stepped up to the desk.

“And the offhand comments? The intentional sabotage?”

“Will stop.” Seonghwa relented once more with a sigh, seemingly tired of this whole ordeal. “Will this work?”

Now it was your turn to relinquish a sigh. “Yes, I came here to work not to fight over petty bullshit. As long as you follow those terms I’ll behave until your Captain returns.”

“Good. Write down anything you need for this space and I’ll have it picked up by tomorrow-”

“No need I can do so. I still have my things from my last unit, it’ll be fine.” Leaning against the wall you glanced up at him, holding out your hand. “So truce?”

He stared at your outstretched palm, reluctantly accepting. “Truce. Finish up here and come find me when you’re done. I’ll give you the wifi and a key to the front door.”

Just like that he left you alone, the click of the back office door heard a second later. Something still didn’t sit right with you, something still so inherently wrong about this whole situation, but there was nothing you could do.

Not yet at least. This was one battle won, you had a week to prepare for the boss fight.

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thisblogisaboutabook · 12 days

Text

Bad Idea Right? - Part 9

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What are friends for if not for meddling? A certain daughter of spring and her heir apparent lover scheme to bring a stubborn Shadowsinger and her Autumn High Lord mate back together.

A/n: remember when I said this would be the final part? I was wrong. Sorry! Don’t hate me. There will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue.

Part 8 Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, alcohol

In hindsight, perhaps I was a bit dramatic. But in my defense, what the fuck??

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is my mate?

And he’s known since the moment he met me?

I am a fool, truly. There’s no other explanation. Perhaps I may not be as perceptive as my father or nosey little sister but I’m pretty damned adept in reading a room.

Yet I’d been fucking my mate for two years with zero clue. No wonder my damned shadows enjoy playing with him so much. But to be fair, who wouldn’t? I mean look at him. The muscles, graceful stature, those auburn locks of hair, that arrogant smirk that I want nothing more than to kiss right off his stupid, gorgeous face.

And in the face of the truth, I fled. Like a coward.

“Sissy?” Azalea’s concerned voice interrupts my spiral of self-loathing.

Her little hand squeezes mine. “Ice cream makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

“That sounds wonderful, Azzie.”

With that, my mother gave a soft smile and strode to the kitchen to retrieve my favorite strawberry flavor from the ice box.

I looked down to my sister to find her brows drawn together and lips pursed, wings sagging just a bit. “What’s going on, Azalea?”

“I told Eris that what he did was bad but sissy, I don’t think he’s bad. But you were so sad.”

Oh.

“Oh Azalea, I’m sorry. I appreciate you and your loyalty. I’m lucky to have such a kind little sister and you know what? I bet Eris would prefer for you to stick up for me instead of ignoring my feelings. Because you’re right, he is not bad. He’s not a bad male at all.”

“Then why are you so sad?” question shone in her eyes as she waited for a response.

“I’m upset because I believed that he liked me for me - but now that I know he knew I was his mate from the moment we met, it makes me feel like he only likes me because of a bond that neither of us have control over.”

The winged little girl pondered before replying, “He can still love you for who you are even with a bond. I didn’t have control over being your sister, but I like you a lot. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my sister.”

Her words stopped me in my tracks. Since when was my little sister so wise beyond her years? Yet still - it stings. It stings for there to have been so many secrets and perhaps he had good reason to hide it. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want me beyond the most base level of a mating bond. The sex was incredible. Yet, he was the one who took me on a date tonight. Still came around despite my father’s ominous presence. An ugly voice inside of me whispered that it was all to gain a political foothold, yet the more rational side of me could feel that it wasn’t truth.

A bang on the door interrupted my thoughts.

Azzie’s wings rustle, little legs bounding across the room in search of the unexpected intrusion, her hazel eyes peering out the foyer window. My heart fluttered briefly - could it be him? What would I say?

The racing sensation in my chest faltered as my shadows briefed me of the visitor’s identity.

“Azzie, can you go ask mom to scoop an extra bowl of ice cream?”

She didn’t miss a beat as her little feet took off into the kitchen where she animatedly informed our mother of the visitor at our doorstep.

Another knock and a shout of “Open up the door, bitch! I know you’re in there.” had me letting out a flustered breath and scurrying to allow the nuisance entry into my home, greeting her with “How do you even know where I live?”

“Well,” Layla let out an exasperated sigh, taking a step into the fae-light illuminated foyer. “For one, it’s nice to see you again too. Second, Daemati boyfriend, remember?” Pointing a finger to her head with an incredulous expression, she continued. “Third, you didn’t see me fleeing when my tits were out in front of your entire family. THANKS for that.”

Shame flooded my features but she cut off any attempt at an apology for leaving her in the uncomfortable predicament with Nyx. “Eh, I like to think of myself as a bit of an exhibitionist. I just never imagined my first foray into such endeavors would involve the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. ANYWAY-“ the blonde gave me a pointed look, summoning two bottles of wine from a pocket realm. “I brought vino for our troubles.”

Twenty minutes later and we’d all soothed our wounds with ice cream and Azalea peppering Layla with questions about anything and everything she could think of.

I could have fallen through the floor when she gleefully informed Layla that she did indeed try to stop us before barging in upon her and Nyx’s more private affairs. Layla only laughed and flashed me a vulgar gesture when Azalea wasn’t looking.

Azalea eventually dozed off somewhere between Layla and I’s second and third bottle of wine when she jumped up with a shriek. “Oh my gods! What’s the name of that bar you lot love so much? Rose’s?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Rita’s?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Let’s go! Girls night out.”

“Layla, why don’t we go somewhere the Inner Circle doesn’t frequent? Somewhere a bit more youthful?”

With a dismissive wave she shush’d me. “No way. Let’s be tourists. Wouldn’t anyone visiting want to go to THE spot that the Court’s upper echelon frequent? Let’s go dazzle the citizens of Velaris with our sexy moves. I’ll let you grind against me if you’re good.”

I laughed at my friend’s peculiar method of cheering me up but honestly, a night out to let loose before facing the rocky road ahead sounded like just what I needed.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

———

Rita’s was more packed than usual as an attendant led Layla and I back to the Inner Circle’s standard table, we snaked through the crowded floor, brushing shoulders with the ocasional dancing patron when I overheard a voice muttering about the “sexy High Lord” she’d bumped into at the bar.

I reached to grab Layla’s attention but it was too late as I looked up to find her cozied up to Nyx with my uncles, my father, and my- “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Looking past my friend with her shit-eating grin, I see the gorgeous face of my mate.

————————

Eris

He stood dejected in the basement of the gallery, trying to process what had just gone down.

Never did he imagine this was how the night would turn out. Under normal circumstances, he would be traveling back to his court to look into the father of the two Day Court denizens who’d tried holding him hostage but Helion would look further into it and send word. He was not in a place to fairly handle such a situation given that the thought of them laying a hand on his mate made him burn with rage.

So he stood there, taking steadying breaths about to leave when a low whistle rang out behind him and a large hand clapped his back. “Ouch. Not the ideal way to reveal a mating bond.”

Eris scoffed, readying an unbecoming retort when Cassian continued, “Been there. It’s not easy but you two will work it out. Beer helps. Care to grab a drink at Rita’s while Nyx and Rhys work their shit out? Probably not the best for you and Azriel to be alone together at the moment anyway.”

To his credit- Azriel only let out a semi-annoyed huff and rolled his eyes.

What the fuck was this evening becoming? Mating bond unveiled and now getting drinks with a male who had every right to loathe him.

But Eris didn’t have it in him to deny the offer. So with that, he found himself at Rita’s with the Night Court general.

“I’m just saying that these Archerons, they’re lovely and great but… they’re headstrong.” He put two palms up in the air. “Now before you jump to conclusions, it’s not a BAD thing. The gods know Nesta has handed my ass to me when I’ve needed it many times over the years but sometimes…. Sometimes you’ve just got to give them time to come around.”

Eris could have reminded Cassian that most females would need time to come around to such a reveal but… the male was making an effort and Eris had nobody else to talk to about such a situation.

He supposed he could have tracked down Lucien but the matter felt a bit too sensitive to address at the moment given the rejected bond between he and Elain and the very obvious fact that Eris’ mate was the result of that rejected bond.

“Hey- I’m here making an effort. At least try to appear like you’re not tuning me out.” Cassian waved a hand before him.

“Apologies.” Eris smirked, refusing to let the male see him too down and out. “Just processing everything.”

“Well, finish the rest of this beer and we can order some of that autumnal shit you all prefer in your court for the next round. Unless you’re too prissy and have some fancy shit you High Lord’s prefer.”

Eris recognized the bait for what it was, given that he knew Cassian would be the first to indulge in Rhysand’s top shelf liquors.

Eris lifted the foaming mug to his mouth and downed the entire beer before placing it back down on the counter. “Another Illyrian draft is just fine.”

The large male beside him let out a hum that almost seemed like approval. “Maybe you’re not such a cunt after all, High Lord.”

“Yeah, well keep that between us.”

Cassian held up two fingers as the bar keep gave him a nod and Cassian pointed to a table in the corner.

No sooner than they’d seated themselves did Rhysand and Nyx enter the establishment, a hesitant Azriel behind them.

“Sorry.” Cassian shrugged. “Rhys sent word a couple minutes ago. Figured we could all use a round after this evening.”

Rhys looking a bit disheveled in comparison to that usual air of arrogance he exuded, giving a cocky grin as eyes within the establishment fell upon him. His son on the other hand still appeared a bit out of sorts given the inconvenient revelation of he and the daughter of Spring to his entire family.

The Shadowsinger only gave a curt nod in greeting, expression remaining stony.

Through a boisterous laugh the general teased, “Welcome to the shit show.”

The tension at the table was palpable, Azriel glaring daggers through Eris, Nyx very clearly communicating mind to mind with someone, Rhys slowly losing his resolve in maintaining his collected facade. Cassian, ever the instigator, broke the silence. “So, mates, huh?”

Azriel’s cold gaze averted from the Autumn High Lord to the General, promising violence. “Hey-“ Cassian raised his palms again. “It’s not so bad. She could have been mated to Tamlin.”

Had it not been for the mating bond chafing his ass, Eris could have laughed but he only bristled at the thought of his mate with any other male.

“Ouch!” Cassian yelped as the violet-eyed High Lord kicked him under the table.

“Oh come on! None of us handled our mating bonds perfectly, and I know damn well that any of you would be enjoying this mess if roles were reversed. You’re just pissy, I remember very clearly the shit you gave me when this fucker,”pointing a calloused finger to Eris with a cheeky grin, “proposed to Nesta!”

Eris really wanted to fall through the floor at this point. “But she was my mate, and look at us now? Remember those days at the dining table, Az?”

Shadows whirled violently around the Spymaster. “You’re not obligated to speak every little thought that pops into your mind.”

Though it was clear the Shadowsinger was deathly serious, Cassian only waived him off and Nyx burst out laughing, egging his Uncle on.

“Mating bonds aren’t everything.” Azriel growled out, “You’re not entitled to her. She’s her own person and can choose what her heart wants.”

Eris raised an eyebrow at the implication. He was well aware that he played the bastard role well but he would never-

“Are you implying, Shadowsinger, that I would not let your precious daughter choose? And believe me, I’m well aware of the atrocities and the merits that can come from a rejected mating bind. I remember the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon my brother when his own bond was rejected, the uncontrollable waves of grief that still sometimes roll through him.” Azriel sat, stone faced at the reminder that his wife was not his mate. Eris didn’t give him time to react, continuing.

“But I’m also well aware that if not for that pain and that rejected bond, I would be without my beloved nephew, or my curious new friend who thinks of even the smallest of denizens of your court matter - who treats me like I’m just a person and not the arrogant prick the rest of the world views me as.”

Eris placed a broad palm to his own chest, clutching as if in physical pain as the next words left his lips. “And do you not think, Shadowsinger, that I don’t recognize the fucking treasure that came from that rejected bond? The irony that my brother’s rejected bond resulted in the greatest gift of my life? And while I’d love to covet that treasure, care for her, let her shine for all of those to see - to know that she’s mine - it’s not my choice. It’s hers. If she wants to shine with someone else? Gods, it will hurt like hel, but I’ll remember her with nothing but love in my heart. She wants to stay on her own, making her own way in the world? I’ll stand back and cheer for her. I think you’re well aware that NOBODY chooses for your daughter but her.”

Azriel remained stone faced, a hand resting to the handle of the foaming mug of mead before him. Cassian let out a huff. Nyx smirked and Rhysand only looked at Eris with something that almost appeared to be respect.

Azriel finally shook his head, raising the mug in Eris’ direction. “Then that’s all I can ask for.”

All eyes at the table darted to him in shock. The famed, merciless spymaster standing down.

Eris only lifted his own mug in return and that was that.

The next hour went by as smoothly as possible, the table ordering several rounds of drinks. Eris nearly pissed himself when the shock of a caress against his mental shields caught his attention, Nyxs’ amused voice only stating, “You can thank me later.”

Eris’ brows drew together, puzzled by what on earth he’d have to thank the heir for, as a blonde female fell into the seat beside the male. A familiar scent wafting into his nostrils.

His mate.

Gods, she looked fucking fantastic and Eris knew right away he’d have to glamour the involuntary scent of arousal wafting from him at the sight of her ethereal face, those fucking hips that he wanted to hug as tightly as that little dress did - his inhibited state not helping the situation whatsoever. She only glared at him, as she stood beside the table, sweet voice dripping with irritation,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Gods, she was trying to kill him. Her arms pushing up her immaculate breasts. Was he salivating? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare if her father caught wind of just how the sight of her was affecting him.

But most of all, he only felt love and adoration as he stared at the prickly female glaring daggers through him. Truth-Teller would certainly feel less violent against his skin than the sharp gaze piercing into his heart.

“I didn’t know, I swear.” Eris pleaded.

“Right. I’m leaving.” She huffed.

“Oh no you fucking don’t” the blonde female interjected. “You’re not just going to ice him out. It’ll hurt you worse than any words ever could. You two need to TALK.”

Nyx looked to the female with pride.

“I’m not finished with YOU.” Y/N hissed with rage to her friend.

“Oh I have no doubt.” The female - Layla - fired back. “But first you’re going to work things out with your mate.”

With an irritated look to her friend, she grabbed Eris by the wrist with a reluctant “Come on, we’re LEAVING.”

Eris threw a grateful look to Nyx and Layla, standing with no resistance to the grasp his mate had on his wrist. Azriel grunted and began to stand, but Rhys threw an arm out, keeping him seated. And to Eris’ surprise, the Shadowsinger remained.

Cool air and the aroma of spices from the surrounding establishments greeted the pair, an otherwise perfect evening to drape his arm over her shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into her pointed ear as they passed the shops, but she only tapped her foot with impatience. “Well?? Winnow me to your apartment and let’s get this over with.”

Eris stepped forward, caressing her wrist in a lovers grasp, sensuous smirk forming on his lips. Fire in his blood or no, chill bumps rose up her olive skin, nipples pebbling beneath her dress.

“As you wish.” And winnowed her straight to the foot of his bed. He’d let her lead from there but if there was one thing he knew about his mate, she firmly believed all was fair in fucking and fighting. It was all in her hands how the night would go.

————————————————

A/n: Thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter! Life has been hectic (seasonal illnesses, end of the fiscal quarter, traveling sports, mental health struggles, etc) and my brain was just not cooperating with this chapter. After writing a few one shots I was able to get back into the proper headspace but found I was still struggling to transfer this chapter from my brain into print. I eventually realized I wasn’t ready for the story to end quite yet so with that being said this is NOT the final chapter. I hope you all don’t hate me for saying it was before changing my mind but it’s important to give the story the satisfying ending that it deserves. 🥰

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria

Eris general: @angiedsv

Series tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe @acourtof-wingspan @paleidiot @anae-naea-zacheria @fandomarchiveilyd @bloodicka @12358

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leclerc-s · 3 months

Text

track 001. shameless

─── ❝ distance, inches in between, i want you to give in. ❞ ───

masterlist // next

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and others

nataliaruiz my “best” friend gets to drive for ferrari next year! i think this calls for a celebration! (please get me sebastian vettel’s number or daniel ricciardo's, i'm not picky)

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc we are best friends stop lying to people

nataliaruiz are we though? charles_leclerc and i’m not getting you sebastian’s number much less daniel's nataliaruiz oh come on! please! for me! charles_leclerc no way

user18 oh how i’ll adore having natalia around at the paddock with seb.

user25 why is she only making her presence known now that charles is driving for ferrari? was alfa romero not enough?

user18 she has a job asshole and they’ve been friends since they were kids. nataliaruiz if you’ll scroll further down my page you’ll find that i congratulated charles on his achievement in getting into formula 1. not that i need to give an explanation to a stranger.

pierregasly have you two started dating yet? asking for a friend (i’m the friend)

nataliaruiz fuck off you french fuck user84 so it's not just us who sees it user67 meaning we’re not crazy like we thought we were

danielricciardo hate to break it to you kid, but i have a girlfriend

nataliaruiz aw man. also, please never call me kid again, i'm not that young. i could totally date leo dicaprio pierregasly that's because you're under 25... nataliaruiz i wouldn't complain.

maxverstappen33 you're telling me i have to deal with dumb and dumber?

nataliaruiz you fucking love me verstappen admit it. maxverstappen33 i tolerate you at best on a good day.

it started with alcohol, although stories like this always do. in hindsight you can't really blame charles for the choices he made when natalia looked the way she did. she was beautiful, he had known that his entire life. boys always told him he was lucky to have a best friend who looked like her. though it didn't always feel like luck when a boy broke her heart and he was left to console her. sometimes he wished she was less beautiful so her heart would get broken less.

after the announcement of charles’ move to ferrari for the 2019 season, natalia had decided a party night was in order, and charles was never one to say no to her. not even when they were little kids getting in trouble for whatever stupid stunt they decided to pull. it wasn't just that he had a crush on her until he was 14, but more so he didn't know how to say no to a pretty girl, especially one who was his best friend. even when she had moved to a different country to pursue her dreams of acting and modeling, they always found a way to speak. it also helped that she dropped everything the moment he needed her and vice versa.

had it cost them both relationships, yes, but neither of them truly cared. it was a weird dynamic to everyone, they acted like couple but they were friends, or so they insisted. and so they found themselves in the position they were in, naked in a bed, with a massive hangover. waking up together in a bed wasn't strange, they had done that before, but waking up naked was something new to them. natalia was the first to wake up, shooting up when she'd realized what had happened. she grabbed the pillow she had been using and smacked charles across the face, effectively waking up the sleeping boy.

charles shot up, "je suis réveillé. qu'est-ce qui ne va pas? qui est mort?" (i'm awake. what's wrong? who is dead?)

"english, charles, english. it’s too early for french," natalia sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"what's wrong?" natalia gestured to him, then her, and then their clothes on the room floor, "non."

"oui," she sarcastically said, "what do we do?"

"ignore it?" he questioned, "do you remember anything?"

"no," she muttered, "do you?"

charles shook his head, "i don't remember anything after pierre stood on a table."

"good, we forget this ever happened, things go back to normal."

charles nodded, "okay, do i close my eyes?"

"for?"

"are you not going to put your clothes back on?"

"oh!" natalia realized, "yes, i am."

pierre gasly added two people

pierre gasly they didn't leave to go fuck max!

max verstappen i'm just saying it could be a possibility. we've all been waiting years for them to start dating.

esteban ocon doesn't she have a boyfriend?

pierre gasly non, ils ont rompu, je pense (no, they broke up, i think)

mae jones translation? pierre gasly google translate it bitch mae jones you know what you french fuck baguette, joan of arc is still more famous than you AND SHE'S BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES!!

max verstappen PIERRE FUCKING GASLY IF YOU FUCKING ADDED LECLERC I'M CRASHING INTO YOU NEXT WEEK

natalia ruiz is pierre talking shit again?

max verstappen EVEN WORSE YOU ADDED NATALIA?

natalia ruiz no, it's just not fair right? max verstappen i hate you. natalia ruiz and yet i was still your first kiss charles leclerc WHAT?! mae jones excuse me?

daphne jones can you guys shut up? for once? i can't have a moment of peace in the studio because my phone keeps blowing up.

natalia ruiz I'M GONNA GO SCREAM IN A PILLOW

charles leclerc please don't.

esteban ocon are you two together?

natalia ruiz i slept over. we didn't fuck. pierre gasly yet.

pierre gasly also, i feel like we should circle back to the natalia was max's first kiss thing. how did that happen? when did that happen? where did it happen?

max verstappen as mae says, i plead the fifth

natalia ruiz we were 12, and it was a dare. momma didn't raise a bitch

natalia ruiz well, she didn't raise me but you guys get what i mean

daniel ricciardo ah, trauma dumping, a skill this friend group is excellent at, welcome to the club.

max verstappen NO! DON'T DO THAT SHIT! THEY ARE NOT WELCOME!

sebastian vettel max, behave.

carlos sainz this is why we call you dad seb. you act like one.

natalia ruiz oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.

charles leclerc i am now deaf in one ear. she has really strong lungs.

esteban ocon i figure we should let her knew lewis and fernando are also in this group chat. to get all of the screaming out at once.

charles leclerc well fuck you for that esteban. my ears are ringing.

charles was fucked and apparently a good liar. he remembered everything from last night, from the first drink he had to the first kiss he shared with natalia. he was far from sober last night, but for some fucked up reason he remembered everything. charles didn't have the same luck as natalia, he just couldn't forget. and oh, how badly he wanted to forget, lorenzo had been right, falling for your best friend was never going to work out. it was times like these where he desperately wished his papa and jules were still around, they always knew what to say.

everyone around him always told him he was a shit liar, but hah! he had just proved them all wrong (take that pierre and george!) charles had effectively lied to his best friend right in her face and she hadn’t suspected a thing. apparently he had been thinking too hard because natalia sat next to him and he hadn’t noticed. charles wasn't even sure how they were functioning in the same space after what had occured between them this morning, rather late last night.

she sighed, trying to get his attention, charles turned to glance at her, saying nothing. natalia rolled her eyes and huffed, this time charles felt inclined to speak.

“what?” charles asked. she shrugged, “i don’t know, i feel weird.”

“do not tell me-” natalia’s eyes widened realizing what he was implying, “no charles! that’s not how it works. it’s been barely 24 hours or less!”

“i’m a man!” he shouted back, “i don’t know how that works!”

“oh my god,” natalia laughed. she sat back before turning her body to face charles, “kiss me.”

“quoi?” the monegasque questioned. she shrugged again, “i don’t know. maybe it’s because i know what we did and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about why on earth i would sleep with my best friend.”

“so… you want me to kiss you?”

“yes, maybe then i’ll remember why.”

“i’m not going to kiss you,” charles argued.

“what? why not?” natalia asked, “i’m a great kisser! i won’t bite, i swear!”

“you bit louis when we were 16,” charles reminded.

“because he was a horrible kisser and he liked garlic a bit too much.”

charles grimaced and opened his mouth to reply before natalia rolled her eyes him, grabbing him by the shirt of his collar and pulling in for a kiss. he reciprocated quickly, and after about a minute, natalia pulled away. charles stared at her, wondering what her next move would be.

she cocked her head to the side, “no, i still don’t get it.”

“get what?”

“why?”

charles quickly realized what she meant and replied, “we were drunk?”

“i would’ve done it sober,” natalia dismissed.

charles was shocked, that was a new revelation to him, “you would?”

“of course,” she quickly replied, “i would kiss you sober because what if a crazy fan was trying to kiss you? or what if a crazy ex wanted to kiss me?”

“right,” charles dejectedly replied. he stood up, “i’m going to take a nap.”

natalia stood up after him, grabbing his hand as he walked away, “was it the kiss? je suis désolée (i’m sorry) i wasn’t thinking and-”

charles interrupted her, pulling her closer and kissing her, natalia reciprocated. charles pulled away, placing his hand on her hips, there was tension between them, “tell me to stop and i will. i would never-”

it was her turn to cut him off, “don’t, don’t stop.”

green eyes met brown, not an ounce of regret seemed to be held in either of them. natalia waited for him to kiss her again. would this potentially ruin their friendship? absolutely, but neither of them cared, not right now. not when they only needed one thing, and one thing only, each other.

“why?” charles whispered, not daring to break their bubble.

“why not?” she argued.

“but it could-”

“i don’t care,” natalia says, “i trust you and you’re my best friends. i’d rather it be you then someone else i met at a bar. someone i don’t care about.”

“it’s going to change everything,” charles argued back.

“you’re schedule is about to be even worse because you’re driving for ferrari next season, you won’t have time for a relationship. i don’t want a shitty one night stand with a stranger or a relationship right now. it’s a win win for us.”

charles opened his mouth to argue again, but natalia has had enough, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. she pulled away first, breathing heavily, “do you want me to stop?”

“merde,” charles whispered, “non,” he decided after he paused to think about it, “s'il te plaît, ne t'arrête pas.” (shit, no. please, don’t stop.)

“okay,” she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss, both of them proceeding to lose each other in between charles’ sheets, not an ounce of regret. years later, they’ll both realize they were fucking idiots in love who disguised it as a friends with benefits relationship.

they both lay breathless in his bed between the sheets, she lays her head on his chest, and he pulls her close. they should’ve known then, it was never just sex for either of them. it was never was just going to be just sex.

“just sex?” she asks him.

charles, despite a broken heart quickly realized it was better to have a small part of natalia, than no part of her, “just sex,” he whispered, “this doesn’t change anything does it?”

natalia looks up at him, doe eyes looking at him, “no,” she replied, holding up her left pinky, like when they were children, “best friends?”

“pour toujours,” charles answers, interlacing their pinkies. (forever)

the were truly fucked from the start. if only they had realized it from the moment their lips first touched, maybe things would've gone differently for them. but would it truly? they had always loved each other, one way or another, they would end up in a similar situation.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! y'all I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT! hence why i skipped that whole thing entirely. but yay, first part of this series is finally out! this story does begin in 2018, right after charles was announced to be driving for ferrari in the 2019 season and then jumps to 2019.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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paddockbunny · 11 months

Note

From List A - 103, 163, 306 with Lando Norris maybe?

Gentle Touch

Summary : You and Lando were best friends, so what is an innocent massage between friends? Rating : 18+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : ONE SHOT!!!!!! Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, best friend trope, PinV sex Images : curated from Pintrest & edited by me.

List : A List Prompt : 103 - “Relax”. 163 : “You don’t have to be so shy around me, y’know?” 306 : “Stop. I’m supposed to be making you feel good”

You and Lando had been friends for years. You first met him through Max – who you had gone to school with – while you were dating Max’s other best friend James. It was one of those things where the stars all seemed to align at just the right time. Lando and Max were in the throws of setting up what was now known as Quadrant. A well-timed quip from James about how you spent hours gaming and quote “neglecting you girlfriend-y duties” (aka shagging) meant Lando invited you to join almost instantly. You suspected it was because a girl would bring a good element of diversity (and male subscribers) but you were more than welcome to ditch your shitty retail job for the chance. Subsequently it meant you had been given amazing opportunities and had travelled all over the world thanks to Quadrant. You got to go ATV riding through sand dunes in Abu Dhabi, koala feeding in Australia and partying in too many nightclubs and on too many yachts to even remember where you actually were and when. Safe to say you dumped James pretty quickly after landing the gig. He did nothing but made you decision seem like a betrayal and as though you had chosen Lando and Max over him. Now, with hindsight you probably did choose Lando and Max over James but you thanked your lucky stars that you did.

Landing in Nice airport with the guys was always fun and full of expectation. You had been once before but this year, this weekend was going to be a week unlike any other now Lando had moved here and knew the place like the back of his hand. The Grand Prix was the perfect backdrop to a weekend full of laughs, filming and partying. Well, it should have been. The issues began back in Heathrow airport. You were always the most organised out of all of the boys and so there you stood precisely 3 hours before your departure time, passport in hand and front of the queue when the check in bag drop opened. Except, the words you weren’t expecting to hear “I’m so sorry to have to inform you of this but unfortunately the flight has been over booked” came flowing out of the uniformed girl behind the desk. You gingerly asked what that meant – semi hopeful you had actually been bumped up to first class – to only be met with; “So the aviation team have rebooked you on our next available flight which is at 21 hundred this evening.” Fuck. You explained you were a part of a group and you were needed in Monaco for work as you were working the Grand Prix (a slight exaggeration but she didn’t know that) but it fell on deaf ears. So what else could you do? You had no choice but to agree to it or else you wouldn’t be going to Monaco at all. It irked and annoyed you that you watched the rest of the boys all wave as they ascended through toward security and you had no option other than to sit in the departures check in area and twiddle your thumbs.

After several monotonous, boring hours of trying hard not to look at your phone – or the time – you decided to call Lando and tell him you would be coming in later that the rest of the gang. His phone rang and rang until finally when you thought about giving up he answered. He sounded out of breath. “Sorry, I was in the shower.” Nice image (you wanted to say but a part of you knew that might come across as creepy). “I thought you would be on the flight?” And then you told him before you were met with a roar of laughter.

“Oh yeah just make fun of me Lando. It’s just my fucking luck!” You exclaimed, not caring who could overhear you. Thing was this wasn’t the first time this had happened. You were cursed. When you flew out to the Miami Grand Prix you were stuck in coach when the boys all got upgraded. When you went to Australia one of your bags went missing and you had to go out and buy a bunch of stuff on your credit card. When you went to Abu Dhabi you were delayed by 12 hours after missing the first plane because of Stop Oil protesters blocking the motorway. You were plagued so Lando really did have the right to laugh.

“Listen, what time does the flight land? Send me your details. I’ll come pick you up instead of you getting a taxi. You can come stay at mine tonight then I’ll drop you off at the hotel tomorrow morning.” This was how Lando treated you. Not different than any of the guys but with more understanding that it was a different world out there for women. He was always making sure you were comfortable and you were protected (that was probably the best way to put it anyway). It was a very endearing quality in him. One that spans from him having sisters and the world full of men he was apart of. It was a quality you actually found rather attractive and made his hotness scale go up in your eyes whenever he did it. “You don’t have to Lando. I’m a big girl.” You joked. “I know you are but I want too.” His voice had gone way down low. You had only heard his voice do that weird hyper masculine thing before when he had been talking to his ex and was giving her the come on. He was probably only doing to you to get a reaction out of you. “Ok. If you insist.” You said light-heartedly back. Not wanting to ruin your day by getting into any form of back and forth with the master of sarcasm.

Thankfully, the day passed quicker than you thought possible. You had copious iced coffees from Café Nero and spoke to a lovely elderly woman who had gotten her time wrong for check in and had come to the airport five hours ahead of her scheduled flight time. 6pm seemed to slam upon you full force and you sailed back up to the check-in desk with as much gusto as you could muster. If you were expecting any complimentary extras like lounge access or a free upgrade you weren’t disappointed when a different woman slid your new boarding pass across the desk like you hadn’t been inconvenienced by the airline she was representing. “Have a nice flight” almost seemed like an insult to you at this point. You thankfully made your way through security quickly so you had some time to check out some of the perfume samples in the duty free, get yourself a new book in WH Smiths (which you probably wouldn’t open at any point at all before you arrived home) and another iced coffee before you were making the long walk to your gate to make sure you actually got on the flight you had waited all day to catch.

“Excuse me Miss.” The business man who had been unfortunate enough to sit beside you nudged you awake “We’re landing.” He added as you wiped the corner of your mouth hoping you had kept over to the left and your window instead of leaning to the right and drooling on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t sore.” You made a light joke knowing fine well you didn’t snore but the guy wasn’t even interested enough in your remark. His face buried in the obnoxiously large copy of the Financial Times - trying to look important and as if he understood any of the shit published on those pages – to even bother looking in your direction again. You settled for the fact that because you were now awake, he couldn’t glare down your V-neck top any longer. You waited until the plane touched down to take your phone off flight mode so it could find service in time for you to text Lando you had arrived. Actually, you needed to warn him. When you boarded the plane you had seen several caps, t-shirts and hoody’s that all reflected their wearer’s support for different teams and their intention of heading to the race this weekend. In fact, you had only escaped because you weren’t with the rest of the boys – or so you were telling yourself so you didn’t have to admit it was because you probably looked rough and no one thought THEE Lando Norris would hang around a girl that looked like you currently did.

Sitting at the back of the plane had its perks. It meant when you finally got off the flying tin can, down numerous walkways and through passport control your baggage was already awaiting you. As you collected it you were glad to see the text from Lando saying he was waiting in the pick up point for you. You had visions of him all but committing suicide by standing in the arrivals hall and being trampled to death by fans (like you had seen on other occasions when you had flown into a city hosting the sporting circus). He didn’t tell you exactly what he had decided to pick you up in but as you made your way out of the airport you giggled to yourself at your suitcase being strapped to the roof of a McLaren.

“This?” You exclaimed loudly. “Hello to you too. It’s nice to see you. I’m doing great thank you very much.” There was his signature sarcasm. You took in the sky blue Fiat Jolly before you – Lando leaning against it as if he were doing his best James Bond impersonation – and rolled your eyes. “In all seriousness, I’m glad you finally got here.” He flung his arms around you and hugged you tightly. Lando hugs were the best hugs. He hugged with all his might and weirdly you felt all stresses, anxiety and frustrations melted away when he would engulf you in his arms.

“It can only happen to me.” You whispered against his shoulder and you could tell he wanted to laugh or make a quick quip about your misfortune but he chose not too. Instead, Lando grabbed your suitcase and placed it into the Jolly as if it didn’t weigh a tone. You were here in Monaco for a week then going to Barcelona for the next race the weekend after so you had to pack for all eventualities and events. This time you hadn’t gone over your 23kg luggage allowance like you did so many times before.

“My Lady…” Lando smirked as he opened the imaginary door to your chariot before getting in himself. You weren’t sure this was particularly safe considering the car had no freaking doors and you had to travel on the French motorways to get from Nice to Monaco but if anyone could get you there a Formula One driver could.

By the time you had gotten to Lando’s apartment you had a second wind in you. Wide awake (blame the coffee) you ended up settling on the sofa across from each other talking as if you had known each other a thousand years. There was nothing Lando didn’t know about you because you had a tendency to over share when you got nervous – and boy were you nervous around him to start off with – but also because you liked talking to him. He was a good listener and he seemed to like doing it too. Tonight however, you took a back seat as you let him air out his frustrations with this season’s McLaren and the goings on within the team. There were several times you wondered if he was breaking confidentiality clauses by having such loose lips but you were happy he felt so at ease with you he could share like this. Momentarily you left to use the restroom. You wondered if he always had two sets of towels out or if that was due to your one night only guest appearance. He had even laid out a spare toothbrush for you – or at least you were hoping it was for you and it wasn’t because Lando secretly had a new lady friend but you shrugged because Max wouldn’t have been able to keep that a secret if he had. You winched at the pain in your neck again as you left the bathroom. You had jerked it this morning while getting your suitcase from the back of the car that had taken you to the airport due to a useless driver not wanting to exit the drivers seat for one stinking minute. It had gradually gotten worse and worse. It was just a pulled muscle or something but every time you moved your head you felt it become increasingly more tense.

You were pawing at it as you returned back to Lando and the sofa. You weren’t one to complain about injuries or feeling ill, you just got on with things, but Lando caught you and instantly knew something was wrong at your furrowed brows.

“I just jerked my neck this morning. I’ve pulled a muscle or something. It’ll be fine. It’ll go away.” You played it down. You were imposing enough by being in his apartment you didn’t want to make a hassle of yourself even more. Lando observed you, his eyes felt like fire on your skin before he arose from his position on the grey couch. “I’ll give you a massage. I’m quite good at it.” He smiled broadly like he was proud of himself. “No don’t be silly, I’ll just take some painkillers and go to sleep. It will be fine tomorrow.” You attempted to shrug it off again. “I’m not asking.” His voice did that same thing it did that morning when you were on the phone to him. It went all commanding and deep. Your eyes widened before they narrowed when you stopped thinking about the tone of his voice and instead the words he had spoken. His words were almost kinky. “I’m not asking” was usually followed up with “I’m telling” and it made your stomach do a little strange twist.

OK! Coming clean. You had a thing for Lando from the moment he asked you to be a part of Quadrant. He was funny, fun to be around and a total breath of fresh air to you. He had such a cheeky charm that you couldn’t help but begin to fancy him when you began to work together. Now you could see all of the flirty comments and looks he shot you were just because he knew girls liked to be flattered (and because it made good viewing on the channel). You had a small glimmer of hope when he drunkenly, mistakenly kissed you on the mouth when he missed your cheek after partying hard when he made a podium. The glimmer disappeared only a few weeks later when he went away to Ibiza with Max and the boys (citing a “boys weekend”) and came back in love, with a girlfriend. You weren’t heartbroken like all crappy romance novels would claim you should be. But you were a little dismayed and annoyed with yourself for leaning into thinking he could be more. She was beautiful, quiet, funny and oh yeah, STUNNINGLY FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! If you were so inclined even you would have wanted to date her. She made such a big effort to be your friend too that honestly; you sort of adored her too. After all, you hadn’t gone so far to think of Lando being anything more than a work colleague and friend so you were able to just shrug your little “thing” for him off. You boxed up his kindness and affection toward you had been anything more than what it was and took everything since at face value (even when he fucked things up and they broke up). So now he had said, “I’m not asking” in that dropped voice tone thing, it certainly peaked your interest.

“Go undress,” He said it before he could catch himself “Uh, I meant, you can go take your top off, your….” He was fumbling and flailing his words. THIS was the Lando you knew so well. You almost laughed.

“If your sure?” You asked but he only nodded, not even looking in your direction. You left the safety of the neutral sitting room to go to the room in which he had shown you too when you arrived. Your suitcase was sitting in the corner with your things placed on top of it. You knew Lando had help decorating. The place was still relatively sparse and lacked any feminine touch. You wondered if his mum or his sisters had been across to see it because if they had they would have at least added a little colour to the white, grey and black he had going on. And as you remembered that you had come into the bedroom for a reason you suddenly got incredibly nervous. You had been almost naked in front of him before at beach clubs, yachts and whatnot but never topless. You rolled your eyes at yourself when you realised he wasn’t actually going to see you topless. You were going to be lying down when he came into the room. He might see a little side boob but some girls had more on display when you guys went clubbing. You pulled your hoody off and chucked it over on the chair in the corner. For the briefest of moments you hesitated before reaching around your back and unclasping your bra. Your heartbeat was whirling so loudly in your ears you momentarily went deaf. You therefore didn’t hear his gentle knock and opening of the door behind you. Scrambling to cover yourself with your arms when you suddenly realised Lando was standing in the room with you. “Fuck…are you trying to give me a heart attack?” You laughed off your shock and embarrassment just like he would have, with sarcasm.

“You don’t have to be so shy around me, y’know?” It was an unexpected line to come from him and yet strangely comforting. You noticed he was clutching a bottle of what looked like baby oil in his hand and yet you didn’t question it – even if you wanted too.

He turned slightly (probably sensing you were a bit nervous to be this exposed in front of him) and you lay down on your stomach on top of the soft white duvet. You tried a few grounding breaths to clear the hammering pounding in your heart but the attempts were all but useless. You tried to block out all of the thoughts that came flooding into your head when you realised how sensual this was about to become and bit on the inside of your lip to hold back your shaky breath when Lando lowered the lights.

“Do you want some spa music?” He jested light-heartedly which thankfully lightened the mood and made you laugh. It was what you needed to regain control of yourself. You felt his knees depress the mattress beside you before manoeuvring so he had a knee either side of your thighs. You almost gulped when you felt his wide muscular skin caress yours. Lando probably not even registering how much of a turn on that was. How in the hell were you about to get through him giving you a massage if you couldn’t even breathe as his skin touched yours?

Lando gently moved your hair out of the way before mentioning something about baby oil that you completely missed due to how loudly your heart was pounding inside your chest making your head go all woozy. In fact, if he had said anything at all you would have missed it because then without warning he poured some of the silky liquid on to the skin of your back. Jesus! You practically sighed out his name as he began spreading it around your flesh without a smidge of hesitation. A groan was stifled in your throat as you felt Lando apply some pressure to the base of your aching neck. His long fingers dug in where they needed too. They ground against the tight knots when he found them and began to melt away the tension.

“Relax” You heard his voice, his words coming out in something of a sigh. As much as you tried too you couldn’t help but pick up on his tone and you wished you hadn’t. You wished you had ignored his order to relax because now all you were thinking about was how non-relaxing the whole thing was because all he was accomplishing was turning you on which only made you try to relax more which was futile.

Then Lando really hit the spot. He located and zoned right in on the painful little niggle that you kept pawing away at all night. You hadn’t even realised he had done it until you let out nothing short of a pornographic sigh at the feeling of utter relief. The noise that emitted from you wasn’t a sound you ever – not even in your wildest dreams – thought you would ever be producing in front of Lando let alone FOR him.

“Does that feel good?” He asked curiously as his fingers and palm kept going, going and going. You hmm mmm’d instead of creating any actual words. Anything you could possibly say in that moment would have probably come out wrong and possibly give away the fact you had something of an unrequited crush on the man. Any words that dared to spill from your lips would give away how utterly turned on you were right now. Which in all honesty, the thought of Lando knowing about your smutty little thoughts about him made you cringe and want to shrivel up and die because you seriously doubted he would feel the same way about you.

As he progressed with the massage you tried to swallow each groan and moan that you could and yet some still eluded you. You had a sneaking suspicion that if you were to turn over unexpectedly Lando would be hovering above you with a giant smile upon his face, loving every second. You were sure he had some kind of power kink. And as you began to melt into the thoughts of Lando having any kind of kinks at all, you suddenly felt it. The first time you weren’t sure if you really had and even on the second time you felt you were mistaken and wrong. But the third, as he practically ground against your butt, you felt it. Lando was hard. You felt the entire length of him (base to tip) as his knees gave out a little and he pressed it up against your sweatpants covered ass. You wanted to gasp but you decided against it. You wanted to feel more of it. You wanted desperately to make sure. You moaned again for good measure so you could see if it would have another effect on him – cruel yes, but so was him suggesting a massage then getting hard in the middle of it without any possible intentions of giving it to you – which it did. Lando let out a swallowed gasp of a groan as if he was trying to cling on to it with his whole life. You said his name softly but he didn’t hear you – or he was ignoring you, which honestly was more like it – and so you said it again but louder.

“Lando…” You breathed. His hands stalled. He hadn’t bargained on you cottoning on. He only responded by uttering your name straight back at you before adding; “It’ll go away in a minute. I haven’t touched someone like this in a long time. I’m sorry.” The fact he was apologising for it made you want to scream. He had nothing to apologise for – not going by the state your own underwear was now in due to his actions – it was totally natural. The only thing you couldn’t understand was why now? Was it just the sheer action of touching someone else like he was suggesting or perhaps (just maybe) Lando actually liked you too? There was only one way to find out.

So without a shred of warning you flipped over on to your back. Caution was well and truly flung into the wind. His big thick thighs did nothing to stop you if he even had the time to register what you had just done. You weren’t usually the type to be bold like this. You were actually quite reserved and hadn’t ever intentionally flashed anyone before but as Lando’s eyes dipped quickly from yours down toward your boobs you felt a strange confidence grasp hold of you.

“I can help you with it, if you want?” You knew the line felt like you were in some bad porno the second you said it. It sounded weird and completely and utterly unsexy. But really, what else could you have said that would have sounded any better? Lando didn’t react at first – probably too stunned from having his friend semi naked in front of him to register what the hell you had just come out with – but his features softened before your very eyes as he cottoned on to what you were implying.

“Really?” His voice did that high-pitched thing it did when he couldn’t tell if someone was taking him on a ride or not but then there was a small faint recognition of a signature Lando smirk that told you he knew exactly what was going on. So instead of a verbal queue you gave him a physical one. Your hands went to his thighs and as shaky as they were in the seconds before touching his skin – God bless him for wearing shorts – they steadied as soon as they touched him. Slipping up to his waist he didn’t move as your hands danced along the waistband of the cotton comfies he was wearing. Lando made no sign of disapproval as your hands finally made contact with the growing tent that had formed inside his clothes. In fact, he let out a wobbly sigh as you palmed over him. You didn’t know where in the hell your newfound boldness came from but you liked it and were determined to embrace it. You weren’t sure if this was a sudden, unexpected attraction to you that Lando was feeling based on just needing to feel a girls touch or if it had been a closeted attraction that had built to an undeniable crescendo over the past few years but either way, you didn’t care. Your fingertips dipped inside his waistband and you watched as he swallowed. Your name tumbled once again from his lips and you waited on him calling for you to stop but the call never came.

“I’m supposed to be making you feel good…” He croaked as he opened his eyes and looked down at you again. “You are. This does.” Desperately you wanted him to know that you wanted this, you wanted him, more than you could ever express.

Thankfully, Lando took the hint and in an almost blink and you’ll miss it fashion he knocked out his knees so he was lying on top of you, his hand tenderly positioned on your cheek.

“You really want too?” He double-checked for your consent – sexy, you thought – and you nodded at him.

“I’ve wanted too for years, Lando.” You confessed and you could see the moment of realisation hit him before it filled him with cocky confidence. You had hidden your crush for far too long and now you were finally getting exactly what you wanted. The excitement could make your head explode. Your stomach flipped at the thought but he gave you no time to register it because without warning he kissed you. His lips caressed yours with passionate haste. Finally, after all this time you knew what he tasted like. His tongue dipped into your mouth and stroked yours in a testing the water type manner that was just so, well, Lando. You found yourself grabbing the back of his head, winding your fingers into his dark curls as you went, just so he knew how serious you were. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him and you felt the faint smile appear on his mouth as your tongue danced with his. Lando responded by grabbing your thigh and pulling it up around his waist. It was with that action you knew he knew what he was doing as it gave him the perfect angle to grind against your core - giving himself a faint whisper of release - which almost had you gasping straight into his mouth.

The next few actions seemed too quick to even comprehend. They were like some kind of dance sequence. You removed his t-shirt. He removed your sweats and panties (commenting on how wet you were as if he wasn’t expecting it). You pulled down his shorts and boxers, which prompted him to take them off for himself. He reached into the bedroom drawer for a condom and he didn’t hesitate handing it to you to put on him.

“I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” His confession was just that, a confession, and you were his priest. It was the moment you felt fulfilled. You felt like his truth was yours too. You weren’t crazy thinking his glances, his touches and how close he was to you was something more and wasn’t just friendship. And you refused the devil on your shoulder whispering in your ear that he was just telling you what you wanted to hear because he knew you would believe him and he could get his leg over. You believed Lando and even if this only happened once, it was indeed happening, so you were intent on enjoying it.

With the thought of enjoying this ringing around your head, you finished your task of sheathing him with the protective latex. As soon as you were done he slid himself up and down your sensitive, wet folds and your hands ran up from his chest to his neck so you could raise his eyes to yours. You wanted to look at the perfect green orbs you obsessed over when he finally connected your bodies and pushed into you. Which he did almost immediately. At first it took you a few moments to overcome the stretch. He was bigger than you would have thought. He was average in length but made up for it in girth and seeing as you hadn’t had sex in such a long time that you felt the deep, dull aching sting from being so tight around his cock all over your body.

“Ok?” He whispered against your semi parted lips. You kissed back as he rolled his hips, slipping himself out before back in, while you were distracted. He kept distracting you with his mouth – and his hands, one of which creeping up to your boob and playing with your sensitive peaked nipple – as he slowly began getting into rhythm. It was you that broke the kiss to moan when you finally felt the effects his pace was having upon you. Enjoyment and pre-satisfaction began grabbing you with both hands as Lando groaned into your ear. God, this was what you had deprived yourself of for two years by not acting upon your infatuation with him. You were so stupid in not telling him how you felt.

Lando felt like heaven. He felt like sheer and utter heaven inside of you. There was nothing in the world that felt better than him fucking you like you had never been fucked before. His pace had picked up from the slow, sensual style it started out like in the beginning to a quicker, steady beat that had you clawing your nails into his shoulders while you panted in his ear. You would have been happy enough for him to continue in the position and pace he was already in but a squeal left you as he suddenly, without a shred of warning, lifted your body so you were sat in his lap. Lotus was what you thought this position was called but honestly, your brain had been reduced to Lando shaped pulp that you couldn’t even make a proper assessment.

“Is this ok?” He asked as he pushed your hair back away from your face. He wanted to look at you while he was inside of you, and that clearly meant connection. Lando wanted to be connected to you. “Yes.” You breathe out on a sigh “more than.” Upon your words Lando’s hands went down to your ass. He squeezed as you smiled. He used his hands position on your butt to help guide you, move you, into a pace that worked for both of you. At first the only thing you could focus on was how deep he felt inside of you still you realised how the other parts of you were grinding against him. Your clit grazed his base with every stroke and you realised he had been thinking about your pleasure the whole time. Lando was better at this whole thing than you ever thought possible.

“Does that feel good?” His brain was working in tandem with yours and you nodded enthusiastically while the sensation began to flood your nerves. Your hands clung on to his shoulders before they wound into his hair. His lips ghosted across the flesh of your neck as he let low, earth moving rumbles erupt through his throat.

His name struggled through your lips as he hit the spot inside you over, over, over and over again. Your mind went blank and you finally understood what women all over the world raved about. The guys you had been with before had never actually found anywhere near the spot and you had spent too long saying, “right there” when you didn’t even know where “there” was. Lando found it. He knew where it was instantly and what more he staked his claim of ownership of it. You came like it the first time you ever had. It felt deeper, more intense and more authentic than you had experienced when you had done it alone, in your room, with your battery-operated friend. His body flushed against yours as he held you against himself. Your thighs twitched and a feeling of sparks tingled all over. From the ends of your fingers to the tips of your toes you felt the orgasm Lando had given you consume your being.

He slowed his pace but he kept moving you; back and forth, back and forth, searching for his own high. You thought of ways you could aid him but you didn’t need too as his own high crashed down upon him fast after yours. His forehead tensed, his body went ridged under your touch and his teeth clenched so tightly you thought they might break. Your name teetered right on the tip of his tongue when he finally let his mouth fall open as he released his milky seed into the condom. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours and in that moment it dawned on you that you never wanted this moment to end. You wanted to stay right here – in the post orgasm high – with Lando for as long as you lived. No one could make you feel better than he did. No guy could live up to him. Lando had ruined you for the whole of mankind.

His hand came upon your cheek as he kissed you deeply after he regained control of his breathing. “How is your neck?” You had totally forgotten all about what lead you into this in the first place. You were drunk, high and having such an outer body experience that you couldn’t feel a thing.

“Ask me when I’m not still thinking about that orgasm.” You joked. It made him smirk widely as if it had been a job well done – as if he had just won the race here in Monaco.

“Do you want another one?” He asked cockily and you burst out laughing at how you almost instantly leaped at the offer - Yes. A million times yes - And it was in that very moment you knew there was no possibility of either of you regretting this. You knew that regardless of what happened between you there was a bond with him that you had never felt with another guy before. Friends to lovers might have been the trope in the book you picked up in the airport. But you didn’t have to read it to experience it. You hoped this was your romance novel come true.

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sooniebby · 10 months

Text

ఌ 𝐂𝐀𝐌 𝐁𝐎𝐘

Yandere! Camboy x perverted! GN Reader

Warnings › reader is only mentioned to have a cock (AMAB). No pronouns/gendered terms (i.e baby girl or baby boy) are used this time.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

🐰𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚! 𝘾𝙖𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙮 who is a star student at your university. He’s universally loved by many—teachers, staff, students, you name it! But no one really knows him—but they heavily thirst after him. You included.

🐰𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚! 𝘾𝙖𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙮 who at first doesn’t even look your way. He’s a year older, too focused on himself most of the time. But that’s fine with you, you love watching his ass when he walks away.

🐰𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚! 𝘾𝙖𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙮 who finally notices you when he catches you staring at him at the library. His perfect Cupid bow shaped lips turned up into a snarl of disgust but you were too focused on how cute he looked in glasses to really tell.

🐰𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚! 𝘾𝙖𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙮 who’s voice sounds a bit familiar to you. But you could never figure out why. Not until your favorite cam boy came back from his month break. It didn’t take you long to connect the dots when he started speaking on why he had to take an hiatus… he started uni last month.

ꕤ

Despite his white rabbit mask that covers half of his face, you recognize those lips. The Cupid bow lips that you’d stared at for a full on month now. A fuller bottom lip with a smaller top lip. His voice was certainly that of your sunbae, that’s for sure.

Fuck, how could you luck out like this? You’ve been watching your sunbae fuck himself with dildos and vibrators for awhile now.. but now that you know who he is, why shouldn’t you try to get with the real deal?

The next time you came across him, you quickly pulled him aside into an empty classroom. He looked so perfect right now. Head tilted in confusion with his lips furrowed into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at your fidgeting.

“Sunbae, are you a cam boy?” You held up your phone, showing the website of his page.

You kept your distance—he was taller than you. He could very easily just hurt you. I’m hindsight, this was a bad idea and you were just now realizing that when your brain took over for your dick.

But much to your surprise, he laughed.

“My little pervert finally found out?” He grabbed your phone and began to scroll around, humming to himself. “Which stream was your favorite?”

“Huh? Oh, I like all of them but I really like you in uniforms..”

He hummed in acknowledgment and gave you your phone back, a smile on his lips. “You know you’re lucky you’re cute, yea? If you were anyone else I would’ve killed them.” He laughed.

But it didn’t feel like he was joking. The deep feeling of panic began to rise up in you again. Okay, maybe you should leave now.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone, Sunbae… I was just curious..”

“I know you won’t. Now that you’re finally mine.”

“Excuse me?”

A smile appeared on his lips as he inched closer towards you. You pushed up against the door behind you—hoping he’d keep his promise on not hurting you. And he did. Because he kissed you.

The kiss was short but sweet as he pulled away with both hands on either side of you, effectively changing you in.

“Since you know my secret… you’re mines now, okay? I’ll treat you well, baby~” he whispered in your ear. Your brain desperately tried to send signals that you were danger but your cock was twitching at the prospect of dating a man you’ve seen deepthroat dildos on streams.

Damn, can he do that to you?

“If you try to date anyone or have sex with anyone but me, I’ll kill them. And then I’ll punish you.” He smiled and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away.

“Understand?”

“Yes…” You were confused on why you agreed so easily to his demands. Is it because he was pretty?

Yeah, it was. But who could say no to a man with beautiful lips like that?

“Do you have classes soon?”

“In an hour.”

“Good,” he squatted down right in front of you, his hand reaching over to your sweats and pulling it down to release your cock. You cried out in shock but waited to see what he would do. Hey, you haven’t had anyone suck your cock before—why would you turn him down?

“Wanna see how I suck real cock?”

Yeah, you certainly did.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

My first dive into yandere OCs and headcanons.. yo, headcanons are so hard, I hope it was decent enough lol I wanted to try writing a perverted reader who’s kinda creepy but the character likes it.

He’s also my first ever switch character!! Time to test my skills with a top male reader (reader will also bottom too). I did it GN here cuz there isn’t much gendered terms here so why? Next time I’ll probably be more specific to male/masc readers tho, I’ll see!

You’ll learn his name later, for his actual post! He’ll also get full on yandere in future posts, he’s kinda a slow burn. Coming soon! Feedback on him is greatly appreciated! Tell me anything you love about him or anything you think would be cool to add for him!!

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @nakedtoasterr @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @kiiyoooo

(Special shout-out to @kaeyasslxt who helped me create him!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼)

#bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #oc x reader #original character #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #top male reader #male yandere x reader #yandere nsft #yandere scenarios #gender neutral reader

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rollingsins · 11 months

Text

the drabble files, p2

p1 | p2

summary: Four weeks into their relationship, Tara meets R's parents for the first time. It does not go well.

warnings: Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence mention of sex.

word count: 2.5k.

a/n: flashback fic, set pre-all hers. For those who requested Tara being a little shit to R's parents. Enjoy babes!

Tara has been yours for four weeks.

Four weeks of bliss. Stars behind your eyes when you kiss. Fireworks when you fuck. Four weeks of kissing in school hallways, and shy smiles, and breathy gasps when you let her take what she wants from you.

It’s perfect. It's all you ever wanted.

And it’s time she met your parents.

“Be respectful,” You tell Tara, the night before it happens, “Call him ‘Sir’. And whatever you do, don’t tell him we’re having sex.”

“Call him ‘Sir’?” She asks, nose crinkled, “What is this, 18th century England?”

“Just do it, Tara, please,” You beg, “I want him to like you. He’s an old-fashioned guy, we’re lucky he’s even agreed to meet you at all.”

“Yeah, I feel super lucky right now.” She holds up one of your sundresses. One you’d specifically picked out for her to wear, “I can’t wear this, baby, I’ll look like a choir-girl.”

“That’s what I’m going for.” You say. You lean in and kiss her slow, “Please, honey. If he doesn’t like you, there will be hell to pay. I told you about Aaron.”

Aaron was your first kiss. Behind one of the pews at Sunday school. When your Dad had found out about it, he’d pulled you from the classes and forbid you from ever talking to him again.

Tara looks over at you, stormy-eyed. She hates when you bring up your exes, something you really don’t understand. But it’s sexy, kind of, the way she grips your waist and kisses you hard. Like she’s trying to wipe his name from your lips. She’s possessive, this you already know, but it still makes your stomach flip.

“Tara-” You squeal as she all but tackles you back onto the bed, ripping off your jeans and spreading your legs like you’re hers for the taking, “You need to try on the sundress-”

“I’m sure it fits,” She assures, pressing her lips to your neck, “I’m sure it’s tight. But not as tight as you are.”

The sundress falls to the floor, unruined.

But you, on the other hand? Not so much.

You’re walking a little funny the next day.

Tara hasn’t really been rough before, but she was last night. Marks on your chest, kind of rough. Handprints around your neck, kind of rough. Aching down there, kind of rough.

The kind of rough that makes you eager for your parents to like her. Because if this is what she’s like when she gets jealous, you don’t ever want it to stop.

You wait outside the house, lip between your teeth. Your Mom has cooked up a storm, excited to meet the girl you’ve gushed about for the last four weeks. Your Dad, perhaps unrelated, perhaps not, has been cleaning his shotgun all morning.

It makes you nervous.

Your Mom, she’s easy. One of Tara’s pretty smiles and she’ll be sold. But your Dad? She’ll have to work a little harder.

You watch as Tara’s car pulls up, stand to meet her.

She’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and an old band t-shirt. You, in your Sunday best, gawp at her from the porch.

“What happened to the sundress?” You ask as she moves to kiss you.

She frowns as you retract.

“Not exactly my style, babe.” She says, and then grins, “You want easy access, huh? You’ll have to work a little harder than that.”

Her arms loop around your waist.

You smack her off.

“Stop it. And don’t make jokes like that, my Dad won’t like it.”

Tara withdraws, a little irritated.

“Just behave. Please.” You beg. Tara has a bad-girl aura about her that you’re usually attracted to. But today, you want it to disappear, “Jump through his hoops, make him like you.”

“Why do you care so much about what that guy thinks?” Tara asks, perplexed.

‘Because ‘that guy’ is my Father, Tara.” You say, “Please, baby. Promise.”

Tara sighs.

“I’ll do my best.” Is what she says, and in hindsight, it should have been the first warning sign.

Your mother is all smiles as you bring Tara in.

“Oh, Tara,” She squeals, wrapping your girlfriend up in a hug, “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Your Dad hovers in the hallway, expression blank.

He offers a hand to Tara, who shakes it.

“Tara.” He says.

“Nice to meet you, Sir.” Tara says, on her best behavior. You squeeze her hip.

“Should we eat?” You suggest.

Your Mom has made sweet-corn fritters. She shares it around, nudges a little extra onto Tara’s plate. Under the table, you squeeze her thigh.

She’s doing so good. More mild-mannered than you’ve ever seen her. And then your Dad has to open his mouth.

“So, Tara,” He says, and you can hear the distaste in his voice by her name on his tongue. Tara must hear it too, judging by the way she tenses, slightly, “What are your plans for the future?”

Tara waits a moment.

“Well, I’m going to finish high school,” She says, cutting into her fritter, “And then I’ll go to college, probably. Somewhere east. Maybe Yale, or Harvard.”

Your Mom beams.

Your Dad tuts.

“You have to have pretty good grades to get into Harvard,” He says, eyes narrowed.

Tara smiles.

“I’m a straight-A student, Sir.”

“Confident, too.” Says your Dad. He looks over at you, “It takes more than good grades. And what do you suppose you’ll be doing at Yale or Harvard?”

You’ve known your Dad long enough to know when he’s being patronizing. You shoot him a look.

Interlock your fingers with Tara’s, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“I’m going to study film.” She says, without a beat and your Dad laughs.

Tara blinks.

“Film? You’re going to Harvard to study film?” He says, eyes sparkling, “Well, that’s like going to work at NASA as a janitor.”

“Dad.” You say, voice sharp.

“I’m sorry,” You Dad says, but he’s still laughing. Your Mom looks uncomfortable and Tara’s staring at him like she doesn’t see the joke, “I shouldn't laugh. It’s nice to have dreams.”

You wrap a protective arm around Tara’s waist.

“Tara’s top of her class. In every subject.” You say, “Yale and Harvard, they’ll be fighting over her.”

“I’m sure.” Says your Mother, trying to be supportive, “Film is a very interesting subject, Tara.”

“It is,” Says Tara, relaxing slightly, “I just love movies. I want to make my own.”

“And you’ll be really good at it, babe.” You say, rubbing her back. She smiles back at you.

“Not a very high success rate though, is it?” Your Dad says, “I mean, it’s a very competitive industry.”

“I’m a very competitive person.” Tara says, voice even.

Your Dad leans back in his chair.

“I don’t mean to grill you,” Your Dad says, “It’s just - tortured artist? They’re not known for bringing in much money. And YN’s my baby-girl, I need to know the person spending time with her is good enough for her.”

Your Dad’s smile is light. Fake, almost. But you can tell Tara doesn’t like what he’s just said. Her grip on your hand tightens.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Sir.” She says, pointedly, “Because she’s my baby-girl now. You’re relieved of your duty.”

You Dad blinks. His expression frosts over slightly. Tara’s tone is anything but friendly.

Back off, it screams, she’s mine.

You shift, uncomfortable.

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” You suggest, but neither of them are listening to you.

“She’ll always be my baby.” Says your Dad. He points his fork at her, “You should remember that, Ms Carpenter.”

“And she’s mine now.” Snipes back Tara, “You should remember that, Sir.”

“I think Mom made muffins, why don’t we get them, babe?” You interject, trying to pry Tara to her feet. But she doesn’t budge.

“I don’t care for your tone, young lady.” Says your Dad. He’s sitting up in his seat, glaring. Tara’s look mirrors his.

“Daddy, she doesn’t mean anything by it,” You say hurriedly, “She’s just protective, that’s all.”

You look to your Mother for help.

She reaches over, grabs your Father’s hand.

“Let’s cool it down, a notch, alright honey?” She says, voice pointed. Your Dad watches Tara a moment, then nods, slumping back in his seat. You breathe a sigh of relief, and then flash a look of gratitude over to your Mom.

She smiles back at you.

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Tara?” Asks your Mom, perfectly innocently, “What do you like to do? What do you two do together?”

You don’t have to look at Tara to know the expression on her face.

Tara’s hobbies consisted of watching movies, smoking blunts with her friends and fucking you. In reverse order.

“Normal stuff,” You say hurriedly, before she can interject with the truth, “We watch movies. Sometimes Tara watches me play soccer.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” Says your Mom, grin on her face, “I used to watch your father play varsity baseball in college, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your Dad grunts. He’s still staring at Tara, who’s staring right back at him.

“Last girl watched you play soccer too,” He says, voice loaded, “Sarah? Sadie? Whatever her name was. She didn’t last long either.”

Tara’s hand on your thigh tightens so hard you wince.

“Tara’s different to Sadie, Dad.” You say, shooting a reassuring look over to Tara, “Sadie was just a fling. Tara’s my girlfriend.”

“Uh huh.” Your Dad says, unconvinced, “Your girlfriend of less than four weeks.”

“A lot can happen in four weeks,” Tara says, rising to the challenge, “That’s twenty-eight days of kissing and hand-holding and plenty of other things.”

Your Dad sits up in his seat.

“And what exactly are you trying to say?” Your Dad says, his face a little red, “Because if you want to stay kissing my daughter and holding her hand, I’d suggest you mind your manners.”

“Darling,” Says your Mother, looking a little embarrassed, “There’s no need to raise your voice. I’m sure Tara was just suggesting they’ve had plenty of time to fall in love, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

She looks over to Tara, voice almost a plea.

Tara smiles.

“Of course, Sir.” She says, “I just meant YN and I have had time to explore our feelings for each other.”

The sigh you let out matches your Mothers.

You manage to veer the conversation back to chit chat. Your Mother tells Tara what you were like as a kid. She asks about Tara’s family, about her friends. And it seems to work.

Your Father falls silent, pushing his food around his plate.

Tara charms the pants off your mother, you watch, a little proud, squeezing her hand and trying your very best to to reach over and kiss her in front of your parents.

It’s going well, finally.

And then your Mother moves to go get the dessert and everything falls apart.

Your Dad is the first to speak. He leans over the table, his eyes narrowed. Looking straight at Tara.

“You’re a real womanizer, you know.” He says, voice sharp. Tara stares. You blink.

“You’ve got my wife hanging onto every word. You’ve got my daughter hanging off you like she’s a three dollar whore and you’re her gang-banger pimp-”

“Dad-”

“But I want you to know that I see right through you. My daughter does not belong to you.”

Tara’s quiet a moment.

But your Dad doesn’t stop his assault.

“I don’t like you.” He continues, “I think you’re rude and disrespectful and obnoxious and I don’t know what my daughter sees in you.”

“Daddy.” You gasp.

But he doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at Tara. She swallows, and then leans forward.

“And I think you’re a stuffy old asshole who needs to realize his daughter is her own person. She doesn’t belong to you either.” Tara says, leaning in. Her voice is quiet. Calculated.

You want to ground to swallow you whole.

Your Father leans back in his chair, infuriated. He looks at you, points one of his pudgy fingers at Tara.

“You’re not to see her anymore. At school, at soccer practice. Anywhere. And if I catch her within five feet of you, I’ll make good use of my new twelve gauge shotgun.” He's so angry, his voice shakes.

“You can’t ban me from seeing Tara,” You hiss across the table, “I love her, daddy, I won’t break up with her.”

“As long as you’re under my roof, you’ll do what I say.” Says you Dad, slamming his fist down on the table. His face is purple. You’ve not seen him like this since that night after Sunday school. After Aaron.

Tara grips your hand.

“Don’t worry,” Tara sneers, “I have no desire to ever step foot in this house again.”

She leans in.

“But that won’t stop me from going knuckle deep in your daughter yesterday, and today, and the day after-”

“Tara!” You hiss.

Your Dad stands, slamming his cutlery to the table in outrage.

“How dare you-” He hisses.

“Who wants a Blueberry muffin?” Your Mom makes her entrance, wide smile on her face. It falters as she sees the scene in front of her.

“I want that girl out of my house, now.” Says your Father, hands balled in fists, “YN, go to your room. You’re grounded.”

“For what?”

“Where do I start?” Says your Father, eyes flashing, “Maybe the underage sex? The lies? The disrespect?”

“The sex?” Says your mother, looking at you, crestfallen.

“I’m sixteen, Dad, I’m old enough to have sex.” You say helplessly, tears falling thick and fast from your eyes.

“Darling-” Says your Mother, but your Father holds up his hand.

“Over my dead body will you copulate with a Carpenter,” He says, eyes narrow, “They’re no good, everyone says it. Deadbeat father. Alcoholic mother. Drug addict of a sister. So what does that make her?”

“You want to find out?” Asks Tara. She’s up in a flash. Her eyes are wide, angry. She’s dropped your hand, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s about to throw herself across the table and launch herself at your Father.

“Out!” Thunders your Father.

You tug at Tara’s hand.

“If she’s going, I’m going.” You say, tears in your eyes, and lead her through the hallway, ignoring the spiel of expletives your Father spews at you.

You’re out the door before he can grab you.

You’re climbing into the passenger car when you see him running out of the house, red-faced, shotgun in hand. Tara presses her foot to the gas and speeds out of there before he can so much as point it at her.

Your eyes blur with tears. Tara’s hand grips your thigh.

Before you know it, you’re at her house. She’s tugging your seatbelt off and all but carrying you into the house.

“I’m sorry.” She says, and she does look like she means it. Brown eyes wide, full of sorrow. Like she hadn’t wanted it to go this way, “I should have worn the sundress.”

You nuzzle into her chest.

“It’s not your fault,” You say, “He can be such an asshole, sometimes.”

She presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Guess you’re banned from seeing me, now.” She says.

You tilt your head up and kiss her, fiercely.

“I love you,” You assure, “My asshole Dad can cry and scream all he wants, but he’ll never keep me away from you.”

At this, she smiles.

“Promise?” She asks, her dark eyes a little doubtful.

You kiss her again.

“Promise.”

#the drabble files #all hers #ghostface!tara #fanfic #mine #tara carpenter #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you

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criminalamnesia · 6 months

Text

The One I’d Come Looking For

warnings: mentions of blood and death, mentions of past trauma, no use of y/n, reader has an unnamed sister, reader has powers and goes by “phantom”, not proofread

summary: you and peter had fallen out months ago because of your different lifestyles. now, he’s back in your life and trying to save you from Kraven’s hunters.

author’s note: I’m down bad for insomniac!peter. anyways I wrote this quickly and in a blur. it’s also my first step back into writing for fun in a while so I’m sorry if it’s awful and messy! I definitely started this with a different ending in mind but what’s done is done.

—

You thought you’d put your life as a criminal behind you. You’d been doing good for yourself without the help of your powers. You’d gotten out— but Kraven pulled you right back in.

You were on the run now, constantly looking over your shoulder as you attempted to find a way out of New York. It’s times like these you’d wish those experiments had given you the power of flight— maybe even invisibility. Anything to get you out quickly and unscathed.

Your phone rings for the third time in ten minutes. You don’t need to check the caller ID to see who’s calling. You know it’s one of the spiders— probably Miles, as you and Peter had a complicated history.

You ignore the ringing in favor of focusing on pushing the needle into the skin of your thigh to sew up the gash there. Kraven’s hunters were no joke. You’d faced worse, but they’d caught you by surprise. One minute you’re sleeping peacefully, the next your eyes are flying open to the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

You’d taken out most of them as you escaped, but one had taken a sword to your thigh. You were lucky— those blades were sharp enough to cut through bone. The one that hit you had skimmed you, but it had still cut deep enough to need stitches.

You bit your bottom lip as you worked on stitching yourself up. Your first aid skills were a little rusty, but it was almost like riding a bike. You never forget how to patch yourself up after a fight, right?

The phone rang again and you scowled. You should’ve left the damn thing behind, but maybe your subconscious made you take it in hopes that he’d call.

You and Peter hadn’t spoken in months, not since you stepped back from a life of villainy. In hindsight, it’s ironic. Peter hated your lifestyle when you were together— it’s one of the reasons things ended. You’d think he’d be interested once you were on the straight-and-narrow, but he was radio silent.

You could understand. You had done a number on him— and he on you.

Again, the phone rings. You pull the needle through your skin a final time, tying the thread and reaching for the bandages beside you. A knock on the door startles you out of your thoughts.

The bandages are forgotten as you raise your hands. Green light swirls around your fingertips. You’re ready to send a barrage of green spikes through the air when whoever is knocking speaks.

“Phantom, I know you’re in there.”

Peter.

“It’s open,” You sigh, dropping your hands and turning your attention back to the bandages.

The door slowly creeps open a crack to reveal an unfamiliar suit. The red and blue you once knew are gone, replaced by an eery black that unsettles you. You raise your eyebrows as he enters the room and pushes the door shut behind him.

“New suit?” You ask, looking back down at your leg as you start wrapping the bandage. You grit your teeth as you pull the fabric tight around your thigh. You couldn’t afford to start bleeding again.

“Why don’t you answer your phone?” He counters, his voice lower than you remember. It almost didn’t sound like him.

“Kinda busy here, Pete. Fuckin’ hunters know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ve got my trail again, it’s only a matter of time before they come busting in here. I’ve gotta patch myself up and get going— excuse me if I don’t have time for chatting,” you huff, not bothering to look at him as he approaches you.

“I saw them on my way over,” he says. “Said hi.”

“Did you?” You said, ripping the last of the bandages and patting your thigh. You’d have to stay ahead of them now. You’d lose a foot race, but you may win with some distance. “How kind.”

“I was trying to buy you some time.”

“I don’t need your help, Peter,” you spoke, pushing yourself off of the floor while minding your hurt leg. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“You should be grateful,” he said. There was an angry edge to his voice, and it was unnerving. You’d never heard him speak in such a tone, especially towards you. No matter how mad you made him when the two of you were together, he never reached that point.

“Should I?” You questioned, getting a good look at him now. He still had the white spider you recognized, but the rest of the suit was a slimy looking black. “I don’t owe you shit, Spider-Man,” you threw the title in his face, watching as the off-white slits of his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask for your help. I can handle myself— I have been handling myself for months, and last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with me. So, why are you standing here now?”

He exhaled sharply. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you gave a small laugh and shook your head. “This angsty, brooding act isn’t cute, Pete. Tell me what you want or get lost.”

“I’m trying to save you,” he spat as his face started to come into view. Black tendrils of the suit slinked away until his mask was completely gone. There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize.

“Save me from what, the hunters? Little too late for that, incase you haven’t noticed,” you gestured a hand to your thigh.

“Kraven,” he spoke, his voice rough. “He’s killing villains. He’ll kill you.”

“I’m not scared of Kraven or his hunters,” you said, reaching down to swipe your bag off of the floor. You shrugged one of the straps over your shoulder and looked back at Peter. “And you should know I don’t need saving.”

“Can you not be so stubborn for once?” Annoyance was clear in his tone as one of his hands reached out to wrap lightly around your wrist.

“Since when do you care about my well-being?” You countered, pulling your wrist from his grasp and stepping around him. “We didn’t end on good terms. We haven’t spoken in months. I don’t think you could hate anyone, that’s not who you are—” you gave a small laugh as you shook your head, “but I’m pretty sure you got close to hating me.”

“I never hated you,” he told you, and his voice almost sounded normal again, but you were already walking towards the door. Your hand grasped the handle, pulling it open, but making no move to step out.

You ignored him. Although you would never tell him, those words meant a lot to you. You had loved Peter— for fuck’s sake, you were going to marry him. But you got caught up in some bad shit, and he couldn’t forgive you for it. You didn’t expect him to.

The last time you had seen him, you’d limped away. Broken and bleeding, abandoning him on a rooftop, ignoring his pleas for you to do the right thing.

You had never raised a fist to him, nor he to you. In fact, he had saved you from death at the hands of Kingpin that night— and still you’d finished the job you were assigned.

The clarity that came after was crushing. Missing him was crushing, but you were too proud and he was too tired. You know that if you’d gone back to him, he would have eventually forgiven you. Peter was good like that. It was one of the reasons you had loved him.

It was one of the reasons you still loved him.

“Goodbye, Spider-Man.” You spoke softly before stepping into the hall and shutting the door behind you.

You hobbled down the hallway and desperately tried to ignore the pain in your leg. The hunters wouldn’t stop just because you were injured, meaning you couldn’t stop either.

Whatever. You’d been through worse.

As you approached the end of the hall, the irises of your eyes shifted to a light green. It was a subtle tell that you were using your powers. As if the occasional glowing-green structures you created weren’t enough of a tell.

You shifted through the wall, your eyes fading back to their original color as you inhaled deeply. You knew Peter was probably still lurking somewhere close by. He was never one to sit back and let something happen, especially if it involved someone he cared for.

Well, used to care for. You supposed it was just the heroic-ness of him that kept him glued to your shadow. He couldn’t leave in good conscience, not when the hunters were on your tail.

You limped deeper into the alleyway you’d shifted into. It reeked of rotten food and you swore you saw a rat run by, but life on the run was never glamorous. Besides, the darkness of the alley made you feel the tiniest bit safer, even if you knew the hunters had tech that would make the dark surrounding you look like daylight.

Speaking of…

An arrow whizzed by your head, embedding itself into the metal of the overflowing dumpster a few feet ahead. You sighed.

“Can’t you guys take a hint?” You turned and raised your hands, ready to defend yourself, and—

“Run!”

Peter had been following you. He landed between you and the quickly approaching squad of hunters, sparing you a glance over his shoulder before turning to unleash his wrath on Kraven’s lackeys.

“Can’t run even if I wanted to, Spider!” You shouted, shrugging off your bag and tossing it to the side.

What happened next was a blur.

Green light swirled between your raised fingers, materializing into the green spikes you’d almost impaled Peter with ten minutes ago. You sent them flying towards the hunters who weren’t preoccupied with the spider currently ripping them to shreds.

One hunter screamed in pain as one spike met it’s mark, piercing the woman’s abdomen.

Peter may have a no-kill rule, but that didn’t mean you did.

Another grunted as a spike met his shoulder, but he soldiered on with a sword raised.

“Really? Still coming?” You huffed as you formed a sword of your own, the green light it was constructed of illuminating your battlefield.

The man roared a battle cry as he brought his blade down towards you. You parried swiftly, but the man you were fighting was much more experienced with a blade. He swung again, and as you attempted to move out of the way, the blade sliced into your other leg.

“You guys don’t fight fair, huh?” You groaned. Green light dissolved as you lost your focus on your own weapon. Now you were just trying to keep your balance as you dodged the hunter’s strikes by the skin of your teeth.

“Not as strong as we thought,” the hunter spoke as his blade made contact once more, this time cutting into your arm. “Kraven will be disappointed.”

“You caught me on an off day,” you rolled your eyes. “Maybe try again next week?”

“Phantom!”

The shout caught you off guard, and you made a stupid, careless, rookie mistake. You would later blame it on the horrible concoction of events leading to that moment. Peter popping back into your life, the cut on your thigh, and the fatigue you felt after being on the run for days.

Your head turned to follow the voice because you knew it was Peter’s. Old habits die hard, right?

The hunter raised his sword again, and then the world went black.

—

When you woke up, you were in a cage. An honest to god cage. You snorted as you lifted your pounding head from the ground. The hunters took their shtick seriously, you had to give them that.

You blinked your eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the spots clouding your vision. Probably a concussion. Just another injury to add to the list.

As you slowly pushed your body up into a sitting position, you mentally noted your other injuries. Deep cuts to one arm and both thighs, including the cut you’d stitched— which was now bleeding again. Your right leg also felt broken, which you guessed was something the hunters had done after you’d fallen asleep so you wouldn’t escape.

“Kudos to them for trying,” you mumbled under your breath as you shakily— and very carefully— stood.

You limped to the bars of the cage and grasped onto them for support. As you surveyed your surroundings, you realized you were in a zoo. It almost made you laugh.

“You guys are cute for being so committed to your little hunter thing. Really, it’s adorable,” you spoke as you caught sight of the hunter standing a few feet away.

The woman didn’t acknowledge you. She kept her back towards you as she watched the small fire crackling in front of her.

“Even the spider talks less than you,” a man’s gruff voice startled you. The hunter stepped out of the shadows as he approached the woman by the fire.

“Speaking of the spider,” you called out, “where is he? Do we have adjoining cages, or does he get special treatment?”

The male hunter didn’t bite. He came to a stop beside the woman, leaned down to whisper something into her ear, and then he turned and left.

When the sound of the man’s boots hitting the ground could no longer be heard, the woman turned around. She snarled as she looked at you. One of her hands reached to unsheathe the hunting knife strapped to her hip.

You watched as she began to walk towards you. Your mind raced as you thought of different ways to escape. If she opened your cage, you could use your powers and dispose of her— but how big was this zoo? You had only seen the two hunters, but you weren’t naive enough to believe they were the only ones here.

“Lucky for you,” the woman finally spoke. Her voice was thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “Kraven wants you alive.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Lucky for me.”

The woman raised the knife in one hand and reached the other towards your cage. You struck in an instant.

Green light contrasted the orange of the fire as a spear materialized in your hand. You shoved it forward between the bars of the cage, right into tj woman’s stomach. Before she could attempt a scream, you wrenched the weapon from her gut, raised it in your grasp, and shoved it into her throat.

She dropped to the ground, the only sound escaping her throat a quiet gurgle. You were done playing games— and you didn’t want to prove Peter right. You didn’t need his help. You would get out of here on your own.

You phased through the bars of the cage and raised your hands in anticipation. The only thing you heard was the sound of the fire. It was too quiet.

“Need some help?”

You scowled as you turned your head to look at the man who landed beside you.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you spoke.

“You were locked in a cage,” Peter replied, throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards the cage. “I think you needed a little help.”

“I’m not in the cage anymore, am I? And whose doing is that?” You retorted as Peter’s face slowly revealed itself.

“You just can’t say thank you, huh?” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fuck you, Peter. I told you to stay out of it. I know you feel like you have to intervene, but you don’t, so—”

“Of course I have to intervene,” he cut you off. “I can’t let you die.” His tone was almost angry as he took a step closer to you.

“Are you doing this because it’s me or because of your need to save people?” You said, and he went quiet.

“You feel like you can’t let this go because you have to save everyone. I get it, Peter. But you don’t have to save me.”

“I can’t let you die,” he repeated, his voice soft. His eyes met yours.

Back in that abandoned house, when you’d seen Peter’s face, he hadn’t seemed like himself. But now, as you stared into his eyes, you saw the Peter you knew. The one you loved.

“Peter—” you began, but he shook his head.

“Just let me talk. The way things ended… it shouldn’t have happened like that. I was angry. First May and then— then you. And you went back and finished that job and I just couldn’t— I couldn’t do it. I could barely look at you.”

He paused, and you waited for him to speak again.

“I didn’t understand it at first, why you did it. But now I do. Ganke found out what you did with that money a few weeks after. I wanted to say something— but you were in the wind, and I knew you didn’t want me to come looking. So, I let you go. I had Ganke keep a lookout for any calls that might’ve related to you, but none ever came. You went clean, and I wanted to reach out, but—”

“Peter, whatever end this whole big speech is coming to, I don’t need to hear it.” You interrupted, and he shook his head.

“No, you do. You weren’t a… good guy. Not all the time. I know that. But some of the things you did, and who you worked for, I understand now. Your sister—”

“How do you know about her?” You spoke, eyes wide.

“Please don’t be mad— I had Ganke do some digging after… everything.”

You were shaking now. Peter knew. He knew everything. He knew that you worked for big bosses like Kingpin because you were sending money to your sister.

He knew that you became a criminal because of your anger and your desperate attempts at finding the man who experimented on you. Mob bosses have connections, and you thought you could work out a deal.

He knew that the reason you still finished that job for Kingpin, even if the villain had almost killed you, was because your sister’s life was at stake.

He knew your sister was dead, and that’s why you had tried to disappear.

“We had our problems when we were together,” Peter said after a beat of silence. “And I’m not excusing your past— but you could’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.”

You shook your head. “No, you couldn’t have. He would’ve killed her sooner. Besides, you’re not my therapist, Peter. No one could’ve help me with that anger I felt— that I still feel. I’m still who I was, I’m just trying not to take it out on innocent people anymore. I don’t want to be the reason someone else loses their sister.”

You could hear police sirens in the distance. You gave a small shake of your head as you pushed back the thoughts of your past.

“We should go.”

Peter reached forward, his hand finding solace on your shoulder.

“I can’t forget what you’ve done. I can’t forget the fights and the disagreements between us. But, I also can’t forget the love I have for you. I can’t forget how much I’ve missed you over these past few months. I can’t forget, but I’m willing to forgive.”

Your eyes met his once more. “Peter—”

“I will always come looking for you, over and over again. Even if it takes me a little bit,” he gave a small laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

The sirens were getting closer. You inhaled deeply.

“This doesn’t fix us.” You told him, and he nodded.

“It doesn’t. But maybe one day soon, we can try again.”

A small smile etched its way onto your lips. You gave a small nod as one of your hands came up to rest on his hand.

“Now, let’s get you out of here,” he said as his mask reformed. He moved his hand from your shoulder to you waist and pulled you tightly into his side.

“Still remember how to do this?” He teased, and you laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fear that comes with your horrible steering.”

“Just for that,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I’m going the long way.”

Peter shot a web and the two of you were pulled into the sky. You held onto him tightly, and even though you knew the two of you had a long way to go, you’d never been more excited to see where the journey would take you.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #Peter Parker/reader #spiderman #spider man x reader #spiderman/reader #insomniac spider man #insomniac games #spider man 2 ps5 #ps5 spiderman #spiderman ps5 #insomniac spiderman #insomniac spiderman x reader #spiderman ps4 #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you

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galebrainrot2024 · 3 months

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Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 13 Read on AO3 Tav's POV Content Warning: Bullying, Self-Harm

To some of the companions chagrin, Tav was set on exploring every crevice in the Underdark. She intended to head for the shadowed lands as soon as they were able to free Barcus and the iron hand gnomes and bring Nere’s head to Sovereign Spaw.

Astarion fussed, uninterested in helping slaves despite his sordid past and Lae’zel couldn’t be bothered either way. Halsin, ever the team player, seemed content with whatever Tav decided and Wyll was happy to help those in need, while Karlach was just happy to be alive.

The conditions were brutal in Grymforge so tempers were short. It was sweltering like a humid summers day, even the parts away from the lava seemed to be uncomfortably warm. It was so hot that Tav wanted to rip off her armor, protection be damned.

Reprieve eluded them even as they camped in the coolest, darkest places they could find. Even still, the heat, grime and sweat were suffocating. She reassured everyone that their quests were almost complete and they’d be moving on promptly. But, something always came up.

Now that Shadowheart knew the forge to be an artifact of a Sharran temple, she was meticulously exploring it, reading every plaque and brushing her fingers against every fallen statue. Tav, ever one to please and ensure her companions felt supported, obliged to the annoyance of others.

Astarion, for the most part.

"It's beautiful... a past tribute to the Dark Lady..." Shadowheart murmured while she admired the architecture. Tav bit her cheeks to hold her tongue, hoping that eventually Shadowheart would recognize that Shar was an abusive, manipulative Goddess that she would be better off turning her back on.

Tav was ready to sell her soul to Raphael if it meant she could dip in a cool river - the collar of her robe was a little too high, too itchy and she flinched, peeling her gloves back to get some air circulation. It didn’t work, obviously. Sweat dripped in rivulets down her back, feeling it pool in the most uncomfortable of places. Hells, even a luke warm river would have relieved her at this point.

They had just secured the runepowder and were headed back to clear the rubble blocking those from freedom, and Tav couldn’t imagine how Karlach felt since she was already burning up. Tav asked about it which in hindsight, felt inconsiderate. Karlach took it graciously though.

“To be honest, I don’t even notice heat temperature that much anymore. I’m so uncomfortable all of the time on the inside, I don’t have a lot of time to be worried about how I feel on the outside. Thank the gods we’re usually so close to running water so I can cool off every so often, but down here… we’re all uncomfortable, so I can’t complain. I can and will complain about the bloody stench coming off those robes, though, grandpa.”

Shadowheart snickered, “Heh. Gale you could use a proper bath. The rest of us don’t smell quite so… ripe..”

Gale rolled his eyes and wiped the sweat dripping from his brows. “Lucky for you, I intend to do that first thing we’re near any source of water again. We don’t need to keep bringing it up. AND,” he hissed, “I’m not sure why you insist on sneaking around when my smell gives us away for miles.”

Tav was staring at Gale when he turned to hurl a teasing accusation at her and her breath caught in her throat when he caught her staring. She tried to look away, yet felt compelled not to. Her cheeks were hot and her heart felt like it would explode.

Tav ripped her gaze away when Shadowheart gave her a nudge. “What do you think, Tav? I know you must have an opinion.”

“Um,” Tav had no response and her mouth felt like sand. Tav quite liked the way he smelled, actually, and was having a hard time focusing on much else. She kept getting distracted by how his forehead and skin gleamed with sweat and she felt too hot, needed to claw out of her armor and couldn’t. She felt beside herself, he was the only thing she could focus her attention on as if he bewitched her.

Tav saw Gale smirk and blush as if in a silent understanding. He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes still fixed on hers. Karlach groaned and covered her nose with the front of her shirt. “The two of you need to get a room.”

Shadowheart snorted, eyeing Tav pointedly. “It might do everyone some good...”

Tav was shocked. It was like Karlach to hurl these jokes - but Shadowheart? Tav’s eyes fluttered to meet Gale’s and as he stood there, sweating and flushed she felt ungodly. Sinful. She turned away and moved faster towards the rubble, trying to escape the feelings that consumed her.

As she rushed ahead she heard the whispers between Shadowheart and Karlach, her ears were hot and burning. What were they on about? Gale and she just had a complicated history… that was all.

***

Karlach collapsed, rummaging through her bag until she pulled out water, “Oh thank the gods…” she chugged it, thirsty and dehydrated after carrying them to victory. Yes, magic was incredible, but nothing could stop some good old fashioned rage. Although Gale, Tav, and Shadowheart could be silenced and rendered impotent, Karlach was ever the heavy hitter.

The gnomes were filtering about, mourning those who were lost and celebrating their new found freedom. Tav had just finished talking to Marcus when she saw Gale knelt over Nere, studying the lifeless corpse crumpled at his feet. Tav cocked a brow, tilting her head inquisitively as her eyes drunk him in, how the sleeves of his robes were pulled back - just - to show his sinewy forearms and wiry veins. Her mouth began to water and she felt the tell tale blooming of heat at her core.

Why was she so drawn to him? The magnetism, the pull of rivalry and the tension that had built in their past was born anew in the present, the feelings of angst and desire blossoming into an all consuming need. She cleared her throat, the sudden increase of saliva in her mouth making her uncomfortable, and wiped the sweat from her upper lip.

There was something inexplicable about Gale. She recalled the first time she met him - it was her first day at Blackstaff and she was horribly nervous, her stomach twisted in on itself and her body shook from adrenaline. They must have been about ten and Gale, as confident as he was, tried to approach her. Tav had been terrified at the time and could only offer a small smile and head shake before walking away. It was a memory that made her baulk in embarrassment, how her tongue was so tied she had been unable to say a word. They were in almost all the same classes that year and it started Tav’s fascination with him. It wasn’t often she was met with someone whose mind and wit were as sharp as her own. Magic had been as much a part of her as her right hand, from the time memory solidified in her brain, and she quickly learned the same was true for Gale.

Tav was sent to Blackstaff after an unfortunate turn of events involving frost and ice and a brief stay at a neighbor’s while her father adventured. Tav had been having a difficult day, her peers at her prior day academy were relentless - picking her apart for her tattered clothes, her weird abilities, her wild hair and when she arrived back at the home that wasn’t hers Gerald, the neighbors son, made a snide comment about her and… she snapped. She couldn’t remember what he said now - she did remember the streaks of blue ice that wrapped Gerald in its tendrils, choking him, freezing him and the look of abject terror on Gerald’s face. It wasn’t until Gerald’s mother intervened that Tav realized what happened. The wail that left her body wrought her core when she stopped Tav - she was consumed with guilt, had rushed to the bathroom to try to scrub her hands with scalding water in hopes it would take away her ability. As she rubbed her hands together the boiling heat burned her skin, her body shaking with violent sobs and heaves.

By the time her father was able to get there, her hands were so raw they needed to be salved and wrapped for a few days.

And so, it was decided it would be in everyone’s best interest for her to hone her talent, learn how to wield and master her abilities and the intensely growing emotions that coursed through her.

Tav took the opportunity to transform herself, to camouflage and fit in with her peers. It was also exciting, to be among others who shared her thirst for knowledge even though many could not match her talent or ability. Gale could, though, and she found it thrilling. She couldn’t help herself, she spent so much time challenging him, poking at him, taunting him for a reaction because she needed to chase the trill it sent through her body. Even if it meant it was at Gale’s expense.

She was too young to recognize what that feeling was at the time. Tav had always been one who felt a stronger desire for a persons mind, their spirit rather than for their external appearance - but, looks certainly weren’t a hindrance. Gale was wiry and gawky in their youth and the man before her now was quite different and yet exactly the same. Tav touched her lip, thinking of how close his face was to hers a few nights ago.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the present, “Tav?” Shadowheart’s gentle voice touched her ear, “Are you ready?”

“Sorry, you startled me… I was miles away.” Tav blushed and rubbed the back of her neck and looked back towards Gale who had a curious expression. She began, unconsciously, to walk towards him.

Gale pulled something from the body - a broken lantern of some kind. Tav sighed as his face scrunched, unable to decipher what it was, and she found his concentration delicious. Pull yourself together, she rebuked herself, trying to refocus her attention. Tav recognized it to be a pixie lantern - she had seen one once before, a broken one her father brought back.

“A pixie lantern?” Tav asked, kneeling beside Gale and extending her arm to take it. “May I?”

Gale was flustered and he thrusted the lantern towards her hand, his finger lightly brushing hers. “By all means. It seems you’re more familiar with this contraption than I am. Can you feel the magic of it?” Gale murmured, his eyes wide. “It feels dark…”

“Likely a creation from the Shadow Weave…” Tav mused, biting her lip in concentration. “I wonder what this was used for…” Pixies weren’t known to be hospitable captives and what purpose could a lantern serve in the forge? Tav felt warm, too warm, and licked the sweat from her upper lip and she heard Gale’s breath hitch. Her eyes flicked to his, the brown irises drowned out by endless black pupils.

Her mouth parted and she reached out to brush the sweat pooling beneath his lips. Gale sighed, “What are you doing…” The shock that swept through her was almost palpable, interrupted by Karlach’s voice.

“Let’s GO,” Karlach fussed, growing impatient with their investigation. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll never make it back to camp.” Her voice rose and fell like an over-tired child’s.

Gale’s soft laugh ignited her and her eyes were glued to him, “Ah, Karlach - what would we do without your exceptional time keeping skills?”

He was goading her and Karlach frowned playfully, holding up her axe in a faux threat. “I can show you some of my other skills, too, if you’d like.”

Gale grunted as he pushed himself up, his knees cracking a bit. “Oooo, did you hear that?” He looked down at Tav, a smile playing at his lips and he held out his hand. Although surprised, Tav took it and stood, her hand remaining in his until he begrudgingly released it. “Knees aren’t quite what they used to be.”

“I’m pretty sure they heard that crack in the hells,” Karlach tossed at Gale, smirking. “Now, I’m moving and you can follow or not.”

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 brainrot #gale #bg3 fanfiction #enemies to lovers gale x tav #gale x tav enemies to lovers #gale x tav fic #bg3 gale fic

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roseykat · 1 year

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Tempest Needs

Word count: 5.1k

Pairings: Minho x Jisung x female reader

Warning: minors DNI, I post NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever. Much appreciated.

Tags: polyamorous relationship, swearing, teasing, unprotected sex, oral sex (reader receiving and giving), bondage, use of traffic light system (green), orgasm denial, oral fixations.

Summary: Jisung can be a menace when it comes to teasing. Unfortunately for him, he ends up getting a taste of his own medicine.

Note: Thank you for the love on my previous work!! I’m currently in the midst of figuring out a schedule to upload posts since I work a 9 to 5. But I have a lot of concepts that I’ve already started on so I’m far from low on inspiration.

Jisung has always been the mischievous type; always riling someone up, provoking or taunting either you or Minho here and there. But at the end of the day, it’s all in good fun.

In hindsight, it’s one of the benefits of being in a relationship with more than one person, because you have someone - like Minho - to balance Jisung out.

That being said, he is one perverse individual when it comes to the art of teasing, knowing that neither you nor Minho know how to cope with his antics.

He can be out of the blue, spontaneous, and strikes when one leasts expects it. There are times where he can bait Minho with his charm or entice you with his words. Overall, he can be an outright torment.

Suffice it to say, Jisung had it coming for him after the very subtle yet obvious accounts of teasing towards you and Minho. Even in public he was a menace.

For instance, Sunday’s are specifically allocated to prepare for the week ahead. When the three of you went grocery shopping, Minho was in charge of pushing the trolley. Jisung - who was supposed to be scouting for items on the list, wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist in a hug, penguin walking right behind him.

To top it off, he’d slide and caress his hands under Minho’s shirt, smoothing over the plains of his lower abdomen.

The other instance is where Jisung would come up right behind you and press his hips flush against your ass when you were examining things on the shelves. He tried to pull it off as if he were looking at things too when in reality, he just wanted to tease you.

His needy behaviour lasted almost a week and a half. That’s when he brought to your attention that nobody had slept together in a fortnight, which for his calibre in bed, explained a lot.

“Everyone’s been so busy,” Jisung tried not to sound as if he was whining, but that’s exactly what he sounded like.

He was sprawled out like a starfish on your bed while you sat at your desk cramming notes for an important up and coming test. Jisung was lucky that he only had assignments to hand in which he worked on relatively early. In turn, this freed up a lot of his time.

“It’s almost the end of the semester,” you reminded him. “Everything is due practically all at once.”

“We haven’t fucked in two weeks,” Jisung moaned, flat out ignoring the real reason why he’s in this sort of predicament.

Your fingers stilled over the keyboard on your laptop, “two weeks? Has it actually been that long?”

“Yes!” He really whines this time. “Minho is tired these days too, and all I get is making out with him for five minutes before he wants to sleep. You’re the same as well.”

It almost made you laugh at how needy Jisung was. Then again, it sometimes escapes your mind that he actually has a pretty high sex drive which you and Minho were obliviously ignoring.

If there was one contributing factor to blame, it was University. Being a full time student with a strenuous timetable means a lot of sacrifices. Unfortunately, Jisung felt the sting from being a result of those sacrifices you and Minho had to make.

“I guess it has been a while,” you started to ponder on the thought. “Maybe we should make time for it this weekend since we finish on Friday.”

“God, please,” Jisung begged and kicked his feet.

By the time that conversation had ended, Jisung had packed his gear and left the house for the gym. It gave you roughly half an hour to get some real study done when Minho had arrived from his last lecture of the day.

That's when you decided to raise the idea with him.

“This weekend?” He repeated, unpacking his bag as soon as he got into his room. “I don’t see why not. Plus with all our studies out of the way, we’d probably be less tired right?”

“That’s what I thought as well,” you said to him. “I guess we'll let him know when he gets back. He’s been dying to get some action.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “that needy for it is he?”

“Oh come on,” you replied. “Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t act that way if Jisung and I unwillingly ignored your needs.”

You had a valid point.

Similar to Jisung, Minho could and would fuck on a daily basis - and has done. Only until the near end of the semester is where he dedicates all his energy and time towards his studies. It gets to the point where there’s not much room for any other activity other than working out, sleeping, or eating.

However, if that wasn’t the case, and Minho was in Jisung’s position, he would have no trouble mirroring the same feeling of neglect.

“I suppose,” Minho responded. “Did he have anything specific in mind?”

“Not necessarily,” you answered. “Maybe we could do something he likes since he’s waited for so long? Like…tying one of us up.”

Minho nodded, briefly thinking about the times where he had you or Jisung bound and tied in the bedroom.

At that thought, a sick idea pops into his brain.

“I wonder what he’d do if he had to wait a little longer,” Minho started to think out loud.

Your eyes narrowed at him as one of his signature conniving smiles spread across his face, “what do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s been a real tease lately,” Minho began to explain. “And I want to give him a taste of his own medicine while also giving him what he wants.”

At that point, he had put a spin on Jisung’s original suggestion. When he pitched you his full idea, you initially thought it might be slightly…cruel. However, all the times where Jisung had openly teased the both of you within the past couple of weeks seemed to justify what Minho had in store for him.

He preferred to think of it as an enhancement whereas you, on the other hand, just rolled with it.

From then on, the three of you headed into the rest of the week looking forward to that specific night. If you weren’t absorbed in tests, deadlines, and homework, then you were thinking about finally gaining the chance to spend time with the two people you love.

Therefore, Saturday night couldn’t have rolled around any quicker. By the time it did, you and Minho were free from studying and assessments. Both of you were in good spirits, but not any more than Jisung.

That morning, he was handsy. When Minho had woken up to make himself some coffee, Jisung followed him into the kitchen like a puppy and tried to smother him in kisses.

Then, when you were fresh out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around your body, Jisung had to restrain himself from taking you over the counter in the bathroom right there and then. Instead he found his hands gravitating towards your waist, pulling you in just to make out with you.

That alone was tempting enough to risk having another shower and though you’re not one to oppose bathroom sex, it would defeat the purpose of what was about to happen later on in the day.

When the time eventually arrived, Minho had made the minor preparations. He chose the lounge of all places in the shared apartment for this to happen. All he needed to do was move the coffee table away from the couch and replace it with a chair from the dining and kitchen area.

The next step was retrieving black rope that they had stored in a box full of other bedroom related items - items that weren’t going to be of much use to him today. He just wanted to keep it simple.

As Minho laid out the rope over the chair, a confused Jisung walks in with you trailing behind him in his black bathrobe with nothing on underneath.

“Who are these for?” Jisung picks up the lengths of black rope. “And what’s with the chair?”

“They’re both for you,” Minho answers.

Jisung clicks onto the concept, “you wanna tie me to the chair?”

“Only if you want to,” you reassure him.

Jisung had voiced in the past that he’s okay with on the fly, spontaneous bondage. In some way, he gets a kick out of not knowing what’s next until the last second, magnifying the thrill and exhilaration of it. Even so, both you and Minho know that it’s still very important to ask.

“Of course I want to. I’m not even questioning that, it’s just…” he trails off. “I just thought we were all doing it together.”

Not even the softness of his words could throw a determined Minho off his plan. He’s not stepping down from it, especially since Jisung doesn’t suspect a thing.

“Just wait and see,” you reply with a highly ambiguous answer that causes him to smirk.

“I trust you both as always,” he says before his hand gently reaches for your waist, leaning to kiss you. He then turns to Minho, also placing a kiss on his lips before taking a seat on the chair.

“Shirt off, pants stay on,” Minho instructs.

Jisung peers up with confusion even though he’s playing good and doing what he’s told. He does trust what you and Minho have planned, but usually in these circumstances, all items of clothing are removed.

Nonetheless, Jisung is excited and tosses his shirt to the side. He sits patiently, beginning to reel inside with eagerness.

Being a knowledgeable person that he is in the realm of bondage, Minho takes hold of the black rope after manoeuvring Jisung’s arms behind his back. He coils it round and round his wrists, securing it tight with a knot.

He then takes the next few large pieces of rope, creating a fastened ‘X’ shape across his chest. You’re glad to see it exposes both of his pecs when Minho fixes the ends around the chair to stop his upper body from moving.

Minho progresses onto tying another portion of the rope which he winds around and just above the band of Jisung’s jeans. This would stop him from potentially trying to lift his hips to gain any sort of friction whatsoever.

Then he loops and tightens some more rope around his upper thighs which frames Jisung’s groyne where his dick is already beginning to fill out.

Lastly, the piece wouldn’t be complete if he were able to move anywhere below his knees. So, Minho fashioned two final restraints with rope just above his ankles and anchoring it to the two front legs of the chair.

“Too tight?” Minho checks with him, looping his finger through the centre of the ‘X’ across Jisung’s chest to feel the tension. “Can you move around a lot?”

He tests the bindings around his body and shakes his head, “nope.”

“Good,” he responds. “Colour?”

“Green.”

Minho seals his answer with a lengthy kiss on Jisung’s lips before brushing past you with his hand lingering over your stomach. He stands behind you, untying the loose fuzzy belt around your front and peeling the robe off of your shoulders.

Jisung visibly gulps when he sees you naked before him, and not being able to touch you. Minho then drapes the robe over the back of the couch where he goes to take a seat, temporarily leaving the other man in your care.

You lower down onto Jisung’s lap, mouth inches away from his before you close the space between the pair of you. It was a small, sweet kiss at first. His lips are soft as usual, eager too as he inaudibly starts asking for more.

Jisung’s arms jerked so as to try and grab your waist, yet quickly discovered that they weren't going to move. No part of his body was going anywhere anytime soon.

It’s frustratingly arousing being restrained to one spot. He can only sit there and feel you do all the work. Your hands go from tenderly cupping both sides of his face to his neck, down his bound chest, to the sides of his waist, and back up. You want to feel all of his bare body, as much of it as you can.

Beneath you, Jisung’s cock continues to harden as you slowly roll your hips over it. Once he starts moaning into your mouth and getting greedy, that’s when you know he’s in the type of state Minho wanted.

But there was one final task that sprung to mind as you slid off of Jisung’s lap, lowering to the floor on your knees between his legs.

“Yes,” Jisung hisses out as he watches you eagerly, completely oblivious to what’s truly in store for him.

You unbutton and unzip his jeans, freeing his now fully hard dick through his underwear as well. The tip rests on his abdomen, sticky with precum.

Prior to the situation coming to fruition, Minho didn’t think his plan had any faults in it on his behalf. The only thing that stood in the way of being perfectly executed was Jisung’s choice of clothing - that being his jeans.

He would still be able to get friction with small movements if he tries, so Minho wanted to eliminate that right out of the equation.

He could’ve asked Jisung to take them off before they got started. Then again, it would’ve extracted a solid portion of teasing which was more than necessary to include. Plus, he wanted every part - if not most parts of Jisung - to be restricted, except for his dick.

“Fuck,” Jisung’s eyelids snap shut when you take his length in hand, slowly stroking and running your thumb over the head. It takes everything in your power not to suck him dry the instant you see his cock.

You know that he thinks he’s about to receive a blowjob, but with satisfaction riddling your brain, you take your hand away and crawl back to Minho.

Jisung lifts his head and mumbles incoherently, “what…what are you doing? Come back.”

Ignoring him was difficult, like swimming against your tendency to comply with whatever instruction you’re given in the bedroom. Unfortunately for Jisung, his needs were superseded by Minho’s request - what he asked of you prior to this entire scene materialising.

As you're still on your knees now turned to face Minho, he gives a fond smile and leans down, kissing you slowly. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue gliding along your bottom lip which leaves you breathless and hungry for him. It’s a loss when he pulls away, leaning back into the couch as his eyes scan up Jisung bound body and smirks.

He knows for a fact that Jisung is confused, pissed off, and horny, a truly foul mixture of feelings to experience at the same time.

The things he would do if he weren’t tied down to that chair…

His thoughts are derailed when you begin to palm over Minho’s hardened cock through his sweatpants. His hand rests at the side of your face, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheek when you free his dick.

“Fuck,” Jisung grunts, the chair creaks as he tries to move his arms once again. The rope across his chest now making lines of red on his skin, indicating that he’s been trying to use his torso as well.

“Go on baby,” Minho encourages you before you even attempt to look back at Jisung.

Those three words are enough for you to take Minho’s cock in your mouth after giving him a couple of slow strokes. The hot, wet, velvety sensation caging around his length has him leaning back once more.

From this position, he cannot only see your head bobbing up and down, but he can also see Jisung behind you - dumbstruck and rendered speechless.

Even though Jisung doesn’t have a full frontal view of your lips wrapped around Minho’s cock, he has no choice but to picture how obscene your face is.

As his imagination takes shape, his mind starts relocating memories of erotic occurrences where you’ve given him countless blowjobs, recalling how shameless you look. He knows you can get greedy and hot under the collar so to speak when his dick is in your mouth. This time, he can only witness that from a short distance.

“Such a good girl,” Minho purrs in a sultry voice, carding a tender hand through your hair.

Moaning at the praise, you carry on, head bobbing up and down until Minho feels like he’s on the brink of an orgasm. Refusing to let his impulsiveness take over, he gently brings you to a halt, ushering you onto the space beside him on the couch.

You lie down for him. Your knee closest to the back of the couch is propped and bent while your other leg remains resting flat. This was forcibly for Jisung to witness everything Minho was about to do to you.

Eager and impatient, he hooks one hand under and around your bent leg while using the other to gently caress his thumb over your wet entrance. He has you squirming and wriggling at the merest touch of pressure, yet hasn’t even arrived at the main event.

“Remember what I told you,” Minho hints.

Seconds away from being able to recall what he meant, Minho fills you with one finger, slowly sliding into your pussy as he plants distracting kisses down your lower abdomen until he reaches your clit. A moan rips through your chest when he begins to suck, your back arching which lands you closer into his mouth.

It doesn’t take him long to have you panting and whining which is where he feels the urge to add another finger. Using a repetitive curling motion, Minho strokes effortlessly over your g-spot that the continual motion makes your eyes flutter and roll back. Then, even as overwhelmed and worked up as you were, Minho’s reminder floats transiently in your mind…

“I want you to say his name,” Minho asked you beforehand. “I want him to think that he’s the one fucking you when it’s not.”

“That honestly sounds like borderline psychological torture,” you replied sarcastically.

“Good, because that’s what I’m going for,” he joked.

Looking at it now, it might not have been a joke.

As unfocused as your eyes are, they remain solely on Jisung as you try to concentrate on Minho’s mouth and fingers, dragging you over the verge of coming.

“Ji…Jisung,” you call out, almost sounding like a sob. “Wanna come so fucking bad.”

There’s warfare in Jisung’s mind. He knows he’s not physically able to touch you even though every single fibre of his being craves and screams at him for it. He’s forced to envisage himself where Minho is; face buried between your legs, making you whimper and shake around his head.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Jisung whines with a contorted face.

“Please Jisung,” you cry out, trying not to squirm your hips too much so that you can still feel all of Minho’s mouth. “Please, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

As your words reach Minho’s ears, the pace of his fingers steadies to a leisurely drag. Part of you regrets saying it out loud - now wishing you could’ve held off more or came quietly without Minho knowing.

But it would’ve been a terrible feat against the person below you who has an untamed tongue and fingers that make your toes curl.

Both Minho and Jisung know your body like the back of their hand. They would’ve known well and truly if you came without telling them.

After pulling away completely, Minho uses his thumb to swipe at some of the wetness on his chin and sucks it clean off. His eyes track yours to gauge what sort of state you’re in - grinning when he sees your scrunched face, clearly annoyed that he had just robbed you of a mind shattering orgasm.

His gaze then darts over to Jisung who remains painfully hard and completely untouched that Minho now starts to feel a slight pang of sympathy for him.

For a moment, he decides to abandon you on the couch and stands over Jisung.

Minho’s fingers were still glistening wet under the dim lights of the room, hand protracting towards Jisung’s lips who took his digits willingly. He allows Minho to prod softly around his mouth and over his tongue, taking them so obediently.

“Good boy Jisungie,” he praises him. “I knew how bad you wanted to taste her, so I thought I would be nice.”

There’s a long line of spit from Minho’s fingers to the other man’s mouth when decides to retract his hand. Minho then bends down ever so slightly to make Jisung strain and stretch up for a kiss.

He chuckles lightly then pulls away before their lips could even touch, “so needy.”

Jisung groans, throwing his head back out of pure frustration - utterly enraged that tears begin to form in his eyes. As his head tilts back up, they roll down his cheeks, splashing down his abdomen.

Two whole weeks Jisung has been waiting to get laid. He was so good at trying to give you both the space you needed to focus on your studies, and yet, this was this reward - or punishment for lack of a better word.

Despite that, Jisung had been a total tease, and in Minho’s mind, that’s three strikes.

He pets and rubs under Jisung’s chin who in turn looks up with absolute contempt, “Jisungie’s doing so good holding out.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbles with watery eyes and an exasperated expression.

“Cute,” Minho replies, a sweet smirk spreading on his face.

He’s going to enjoy every ounce of teasing Jisung.

Minho retreats to the couch where you still remain splayed out, anticipating what’s about to happen next. With the help of his hand, you’re able to sit up and stand before he takes a seat again. Minho then guides you around by your hip so that you’re facing Jisung.

At that point in time, he understood the trajectory of the situation. His dick throbs watching you align Minho’s cock with your entrance, seeing the wince on your face as you stretch over him and gradually sink down.

“Shit,” your fingernails dig into Minho’s taut thighs as he sits up, his cock slipping just that little bit deeper inside you.

“That’s it,” he breathes out. Minho missed being inside you so much that he almost forgot what you felt like.

One of his hands rests on your hip while his other arm wraps around your body, snaking up to one of your tits and groping to his content. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, feeling like you’re melting as you adjust to his length.

Nothing feels more satisfying than being filled out by either Minho, or Jisung for that matter. They both feel pleasantly different inside you, consistently hitting spots that will always have you screaming and shaking.

When it feels right, you start rolling your hips little by little until you’ve built up a steady rhythm. Both yours and Minho’s moans begin to fill Jisung’s ears and he has no choice but to listen to it. His stare glues to your body as it rocks over and over again on Minho’s dick.

“Tell Jisungie how you feel,” he squeezes and kneads one of your tits again, forcing another sudden moan from your throat.

Your eyes flutter, barely able to hold eye contact with the man in front of you, “so…so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Minho taunts daringly.

“I wanna come,” you whine, swallowing down a set of profanities before they leave your mouth. “Please.”

“No,” Minho grits flatly. “What happened to everything I told you?

You had to wonder at that point if Minho was punishing you as well or if he was just extremely determined to force Jisung through hell.

He was bound and deprived of touch, whereas you were getting what you wanted, but not the entire package. Then again, you never wanted to abandon the tingly bliss escalating inside you, even if it meant being deprived of multiple orgasms.

“You don’t wanna ruin the fun for him do you?”Minho provokes, his grip tightening on your hip.

You manage to shake your head, “n-no.”

“Good,” he responds. “Let me use you first.”

The effect that those certain words have on you are always a valuable asset to Minho and Jisung. Hearing them makes you feel like nothing but a ‘thing’ for them to fuck, and there’s some odd facet about it that makes it so tantalising.

Now you’re stuck with an insatiable need for them to use your body however they see fit, and the thought of it drives you insane.

As you continued to grit your teeth and hold off for Minho, you realised very quickly that it was taking every ounce of strength not to give in. Hearing his small grunts, heavy breathing, and embracing the way he clutches onto you makes it all the more challenging.

Suddenly, Minho swears against your skin, eyes clamping shut as he comes hard. The warm, almost fuzzy sensation you feel inside when he does now has you slowing down the pace of how you roll your hips over his cock, easing him throughout his orgasm.

“Good girl,” he sighs out contently, trying to steady his breathing. “So good for me.”

At this point, you’re utterly over sensitive after being built up to two orgasms already but forbidden to go over the edge.

Minho places a kiss against your back and taps your thigh for you to hop off him. It takes a moment to reorient yourself, legs jelly-like but you ultimately make your way across to Jisung.

Wearing a face of absolute devastation and pain, he blinks up with damp eyelashes. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life that it has every muscle in his body twinging from trying to twist and turn out of the rope.

“Please,” he begs quietly while his eyes are tracking your hands to see where they’re heading.

Thinking that he’s had enough of the teasing, you waste no time. Straddling over his lap, you adjust his neglected cock so that it slides into you with ease as you fully sit down.

“Fuck!” Jisung curses through gritted teeth.

Meanwhile, from the small distance, Minho smirks to himself when he sees his own cum slowly leak from your insides when you start to lift your hips.

Jisung’s fingernails are digging into the palms of his own hands, the only outlet he has to manage the overbearing pleasure and relief he’s forced to receive. The alleviation induced by how hot you are inside consumes his body. It’s like an itch he had been waiting to scratch.

As you rock down over his dick, it’s hard not to pass up on watching his expressions. How he looks so relieved, in a state of bliss, and spaced out at the same time.

“Yes…” he sighs out, eyes rolling slightly as his head tips back over the chair. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Been waiting too long haven’t you?”

He can only nod and barely speak, but he’s truly thankful on the inside. His moans and mewls are heavenly when your hands smooth over the lines of rope across his chest reminding him that they’re still there.

As gorgeous of a sight Jisung was to admire, you couldn’t ignore the growing ball of pleasure taking shape for the third time so far. This one feels different - stronger, like the force between two giant magnets repelling from each other when trying to connect them.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper, feeling tears prick your eyes from the amount of pressure intensifying. “Gonna make me come so hard.”

Within a few moments, you’re clinging to him for dear life, rhythmically squeezing around his cock as your thighs tremble. A string of curses leave Jisung’s mouth right up to the point where he’s about to come. After that, he goes quiet with nothing but a silent scream on his face.

His head sways languidly back and forth like a doll each time you rock down on him to ride your orgasm out. It drives him to coat your walls white, his body shuddering in waves when he does.

At any point either of you are rendered voiceless, that’s when Minho knows you’re coming hard. The pleasure is that powerful it makes you incapable of speech or any sort of noise for that matter.

Once you’ve both ridden over the crests of your orgasms, the two of you remain as a conjoined mess, limp and breathless. Your body is slumped over Jisung, still sensitive and stretched over his cock.

Minho promptly rises from the couch to untie all the knots he secured to the chair. The rope loosens around Jisung’s chest, then his waist, thighs, and ankles. All of his energy has been drained as he rests there, completely fucked out.

“Good boy Jisung,” Minho kisses the back of his head and quickly dips out of the lounge, into the bathroom to get the shower running.

Your eyes open ever so slightly, and as soon as you’ve regained a bit of energy, you peel yourself back just a bit to take a look at Jisung. Minus the fact that there’s a faint smile on his face and his pupils are blown out, he was in total bliss.

“Jisung,” you whisper softly, squishing his cheeks together to see if it gets him to focus.

He bats his eyes a couple of times, “hmm?”

“Feel better?” You ask him.

Jisung’s hands smooth over your hips then behind to the small of your back. His fingertips slowly trail up and down your spine while he buries his face into the crook of your neck, resting there.

“So much better,” he mutters, warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Let’s hop in the shower,” Minho appears again, offering his hand out to you to help you up off Jisung.

You inhale sharply from the overwhelming sensitivity of having to move yourself off of Jisung’s dick. Once your two feet are on the ground and you have some balance back, Minho helps Jisung with his other hand.

“Had I known that you two were conspiring against me, I wouldn’t have worn jeans,” Jisung says to the ceiling when the three of you are in the shower.

His arms were crossed over his tender chest and head tilted back while Minho was shampooing his hair.

“We weren’t conspiring,” Minho retorts. “Call it a reward.”

Jisung scoffs, “reward my ass. Who’s idea was it anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Minho almost laughs. “You got what you wanted didn’t you?”

“Uh, it does matter,” Jisung corrects him. “Because the next time we do anything like this, it should be that person's turn.”

“Guess it’s Minho then,” you say.

“Fine by me,” he shrugs.

Note: I strictly do not permit any copying, editing, rewriting or remakes of my work nor do I allow them to be uploaded to any other site or social media platform. Tumblr is the only site I will be using to post this type of content so if you see it elsewhere, then it has been stolen.

#skz smut #Lee know smut #Han Jisung smut #stray kids smut #minsung x reader #stray kids imagines

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beenbaanbuun · 7 months

Text

Late Night, Come Home - Kim Seokjin

It's been a while... sorry about that. I went through a period of writers block that turned into a year of writers block. Mix that with the fact that I travelled to the other side of the world for three months this summer. I've been a little busy lmaoooooo. Buy, hey, I'm back. No idea how often I'll be writing or posting and I wont promise anything, but this is a start, right?

Words: 3.2k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language, Making out, Jin being the nicest man alive

You stood there, dripping rainwater onto the door mat outside of your neighbour's apartment. It was a long shot given the fact that it was almost 3 AM, but you had no choice. You couldn’t get into your own apartment and you desperately needed somewhere to stay for the night. You knocked again, the guilt of potentially waking him up already gnawing at you.

“I’m coming,” a voice said from the other side of the door. The jingle of keys soon followed and before you knew it, the door swung open to reveal Kim Seokjin. Your neighbour.

He stood there, looking down at you with barely open eyes. Pyjama bottoms hung loose around his hips as if they’d just been thrown on before he came to open the door, but he hadn’t had the courtesy to throw on a top. The knowledge that your neighbour slept naked sunk in slowly, a pink blush steadily rising through your body.

“Hi, Mr Kim,” you greeted, voice sheepish.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, “makes me feel old.”

It was awkward. You didn’t know what to say. After all, you couldn’t exactly just barge into his house, nor could you really ask him if he’d let you sleep there. Your mother had always taught you that it was good manners to wait to be invited in. The last thing you wanted was to add to that by making him think you were rude.

“Sorry,” you spluttered. You couldn’t look at him, scared that your eyes would linger for too long on his toned abs or his plush lips that you hadn’t really paid much attention to until now. Instead, you looked at your feet and the wet patch that surrounded them. You were lucky the hallway was sheltered, although you doubted your clothes could soak up any more water if they tried.

“No problem,” he was avoiding looking at you too. You’d clearly gone out for the night and the tight white dress that had gone see through in the rain left nothing to the imagination. As much as he wanted to take a good long stare, he was a gentleman. “I assume it’s an emergency.”

Was it? It felt stupid to say that it was, especially when the whole situation was avoidable. But as you stood there, terrified of the thought of having to sleep in the hallway all night, you decided that yes, it was an emergency. With your phone, keys and money all in your roommate’s bag, there really was no other word for it. Of course, you couldn’t help but remind yourself that if you’d taken your own bag, you wouldn’t be standing on your neighbour’s doorstep wondering if he’d give you a bed for the night. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

“I’m locked out,” you muttered, embarrassed about your predicament, “Kate has all my stuff and she’s off with her man doing… something.”

At the mention of your roommate, he rolled his eyes into the back of his head. It seemed odd that he had an issue with her given that the two rarely spoke. They’d say ‘hi’ to each other in the hall on occasion, but that was the extent of their contact with one another.

“You’d best come in then,” the door was opened wider and Seokjin stepped back so that you could enter his home. You gladly obliged, limping slightly as you stepped over the threshold. You hadn’t noticed how bad your shoes had rubbed on the way back. You guessed you were too busy trying not to catch hypothermia. The pain was immeasurable though, and you yelped out as you took the step.

Seokjin just shot you an unreadable look and gestured for you to stay there. It was his home, so you listened to him. It would be impolite not to. He scurried further into his apartment, disappearing for a moment or two. You didn’t mind though; it gave you plenty of time to inspect your surroundings.

His apartment was much nicer than your own. Cleaner too. The wooden floors didn’t have so many chips, and the sage green paint wasn’t peeling away from the walls. The mirror that hung above his hardwood dresser was polished and lacked all the makeup splatters and finger marks that gave your own hallway mirror character. Even the plants he kept in there were so much nicer. Each of them was thriving, a plethora of healthy leaves coming from the stems, whereas yours were all brown and decaying.

You grinned to yourself, the thought of Seokjin waking up every morning and watering his plants filling up your brain. You wondered if he wore the same checkered pyjama bottoms as he shuffled around with a watering can in one hand and a coffee in the other. It was almost sweet, the way that you pictured him in your brain.

“You’re looking mighty happy for someone who resembles a drowned rat,” the grumpy voice of your neighbour brought you back down to earth though, wiping the smile off your face entirely. “Here.”

You focussed on him, noticing that he now had a lilac hoodie on. It was hard to hide your disappointment in the fact that you could no longer sneak tiny glances at his tanned stomach, but at least now you could look at him without feeling like a dirty voyeur.

In one hand was a fluffy towel, lilac to match his jumper. In the other was a set of clothes with a pair of fluffy socks placed gently on top. Given your height differences, you were almost positive that his clothes would be way too big on you, but you were still thankful for the kind gesture. Honestly, you’d wear anything if it meant that you no longer had to feel the cheap material of your dress clinging to you like plastic wrap.

“Oh, thank you,” you kept your responses to him formal, despite the fact that he didn’t have the courtesy to do the same. He did live here, you supposed, and it was 3 AM. He was probably too tired to act polite to the girl who had shown up on his doorstep. You were honestly thankful enough that he let you in in the first place. “Is there a bathroom I can change in?”

He nodded.

“Down the hall to the left,” he said, “take your shoes off first, though. I’ve done well to avoid any chips.”

Once again, you felt a twinge of embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you were just about to stroll across his pristine floor in the very shoes that were responsible for half of the dints in your own. How very inconsiderate of you, you scolded yourself as you slipped them off.

“Thank you,” you said again.

“Meet me in the kitchen when you’re changed, okay?” You nodded before shuffling your way to his bathroom.

You were right, the clothes were huge on you. Not in a bad way, though. They were warm and cozy and the sleeves fell over your hands so you could make sweater paws with them. The material felt like clouds as it brushed against your damp, icy skin, and you were dreading when the time came for you to take them off and change back into your own clothes. How could you when you’d now felt the luxury of Seokjin’s?

The towel he’d given you was wrapped around your hair, slowly taking in all the water that had weighed it down. It felt good to no longer have long, wet strands sticking to your face and neck, and you were sure that with the quality of the towel, it’d be dry in no time.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, a shy smile rising to your face as you realised just what was happening. It was like something out of a romance novel, except for the fact you were pretty sure your neighbour was only doing this because he was a good person, not because he was secretly in love with you. You took a deep breath and controlled your expression before you opened the bathroom door and followed the sound of a microwave spinning to the kitchen.

As you stepped into the room, Seokjin was busy taking whatever it was out of the microwave. It smelled of stew, and the thought of a nice warm meal made your stomach rumble. The sudden sound caught his attention, and once again, you felt a familiar heat in your cheeks.

“Come sit,” he pointed at a chair as he finished preparing the food, “It’s leftovers from today, but it should still be fresh.”

Honestly, you didn’t care about the freshness. You were just flattered that he’d gone out of his way to get you some food, even if all he did was microwave it.

“Thank you.”

“Is ‘thank you’ the only thing you’re capable of saying?” His question caught you off guard a little. What else did he want you to say? You sent him a questioning look in return. “Well, you show up at my doorstep at stupid O’clock and all you say is you can’t get into your own apartment? I want a little more information than that, don’t you think?”

You guessed he was right. You’d given him as little information as humanly possible and yet he still had the kindness to let you into his home, lend you his clothes and feed you.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Everything, really,” he replied, “from the beginning.”

As you started to explain how on earth you got stranded, Seokjin moved to sit down across from you with a plate full of warm stew in his hand. He pushed it across to you, briefly interrupting your story to tell you to eat. You simply smiled, thanking him once again, and took the fork from his hand. Every so often, he’d take a break from listening to you and gesture to the food to remind you to take a bite. It seemed you were so wrapped up in the events of the night that you couldn’t even focus on anything other than recounting them.

You didn’t know why, though. It’s not like you felt angry or betrayed by your friend, even though you probably should have. In your mind, you couldn’t help but try and justify her actions. She was sad about losing her job, and how was she to know that Lewis would be there to seduce her? She probably thought that staying with Lewis for the night would help get rid of some of her frustrations.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. Explaining the whole situation just made you feel worse about the whole thing. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame her. She was your best friend after all. “She’s just forgetful.”

“Why are you defending her?” Seokjin grumbled.

“She’s my friend.

“And she treats you like shit,” his voice was loud, but he wasn't angry. Frustrated was a better word to describe it. Annoyed, possibly, at your ignorance of your friend’s actions. You couldn't help but feel ashamed of your instinct to forgive her no matter what. “She’s lucky you made it here safe, you know. Anything could’ve happened.”

You felt like a child being scolded, and yet you knew you needed to hear it. It was the same things you’d been telling yourself for a while now, but ignoring your thoughts seemed like the best course of action. Having someone else lay them out in front of you made you realise just how stupid you’d been to value your friendship over your feelings.

There was a familiar ache in your head and your eyes welled up with glistening tears. Everything had just piled up and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. It’s just a shame you were sat with a man you barely knew instead of alone in your bedroom with a bottle of wine by your side to comfort you.

And you half expected the atmosphere to get even more awkward. What, with you hunched over and sobbing into a half-eaten bowl of stew that was quickly going cold? It wouldn’t have been a surprise to you if Seokjin sat there in silence, unsure of what to do to help the woman he’d invited into his home.

But then you heard his chair legs scrape along the floor, and the pitter patter of bare feet on the tile floor. And before you knew it, he’d squatted down next to you and placed a warm hand on your back. Soft, calming hushes left his mouth as soothing shapes were drawn onto your spine.

“Get it all out, Y/N,” he whispered, “bottling it up never does any good.”

So you did. It was about 5 minutes before your tears ran out and all that was left were pathetic little sniffles every now and then. Seokjin remained silent, the only semblance of proof that he was still there being the hand that remained firmly on your spine. You were grateful; you didn’t need him to say anything else at that moment. You knew all you had to know.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you quietly snivelled out. He let out a snort of laughter.

“I thought I told you to stop saying thank you,” you nodded, even though you knew you wouldn’t stop. You needed him to know you were grateful for everything he’d done. He didn’t have to let you into his home, just like he didn’t have to lend you clothes or feed you. He didn’t even have to sit and comfort you as you cried, and yet he did. As silly as you sounded saying it, you felt indebted to him. “And call me Jin. I think we’re past formalities.”

“Are we?”

“I think so,” his voice remained soft as he talked to you as if he was still trying to help you through your mini-breakdown. “Practically best friends, by my standards.”

That fetched a laugh out of you. You’d barely spoken to the man before tonight, and yet he seemed intent on making you feel comfortable with him. And in a strange way, you did. He’d shown a lot more care towards you than he would if he classed you as a stranger, even though that’s pretty much what you were. You seemed to trust him more than a stranger too. Perhaps it was a mutual desire for something more to come out of this. A friendship, perhaps, although you wouldn’t mind if it led to even more than that. Seokjin was among some of the best-looking men you’d ever seen…

“Sure we are,” you gave him a sad smile, “Jin.”

He smiled in return.

“That’s more like it,” the grin on his face was obvious when he spoke. “Now, how about you finish your stew and we can go get you settled into the spare room.”

You let out a chuckle as he grabbed the spoon and held it up to your lips. He made a show of blowing on the food to cool it down, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the proximity of his face to yours. As the spoon made contact with your ever-so-slightly parted lips, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

And it seemed as though he couldn’t either. As the spoon breached your lips he let out a heavy breath through his own. You didn’t know where the sudden tension came from, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Your only hope was that he felt it too. That he wanted to put his lips on yours just as badly as you wanted him to.

And God, did you want him to.

You didn’t even know where the urge had come from. The man had never piqued your interest before tonight, but perhaps seeing him in such a… domestic setting was what was getting you going. The pyjama pants that mismatched his hoodie in such a perfect way, or perhaps the bed head that he hadn’t even bothered to sort out since you’d stepped through his front door. Everything about him was just so familiar, and you didn’t even know the man.

He did the same thing, grabbing a spoonful of stew before lifting it up to your face and blowing. Whether intentional or not, his breath tickled your face and you couldn’t help but scrunch up your nose.

“You’re kind of cute, you know,” Jin whispered, once more pushing the food into your awaiting mouth. “I never noticed until now, but Jesus Christ, I could just…”

He trailed off, but you wanted nothing more than to hear what he had to say. You swallowed.

“Just what?”

There was a thud as the spoon hit the table and the hand that held it made it’s way up to your cheek. It rested there, thumb brushing your soft skin.

“Just want to kiss you, baby,” he chuckled, leaning in a little closer until his face was just an inch from yours. “Are you okay with that?”

Of course, you nodded. Enthusiastically, actually, which brought a bright smile to Jin’s face, but he made no move.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Jin,” your voice was quiet, “please kiss me.”

And with that, his lips were on yours. It was slow at first, as if the two of you were finding your feet. The way his plush lips gently caressed yours as the pad of his thumb matched the rhythm of the kiss on your cheek.

It wasn’t long until you got a little braver, though, raising your own hands so you could grip onto his messy locks and pull him closer to you. He smiled against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip with his exposed teeth. There was a sharp intake of breath from you before you dive back in for more, this time with a little more urgency.

Lips crashed against lips feverishly and you couldn’t help but let out a little squeak as his tongue brushed against your lower lip. You let him in, of course, wanting nothing more than to feel Jin close. He seemed to realise that quickly, tugging your body to the edge of the seat and shuffling himself so that he was kneeling between your legs. You spread them wide so he could slot inside, as though the two of you were pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

It was a little strange, actually, how well the two of you seemed to fit together. His hair in your fingers felt normal, as did the way his large hands felt on your sides, and even though you’d perhaps spoken 10 words to one another since moving in next door, the feeling of him between your legs felt… perfect.

Like he belonged there.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away for air and soft, breathy laughs filled the air.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he laughed, leaning his forehead against yours, “I didn’t think I’d be making out with my neighbour at 4 in the morning, and yet…”

“Here we are.”

“Here we are,” he grinned, “you must be tired.”

You nodded, although you wouldn't have minded staying up later with Jin.

But the man in question stood up, holding a hand out to you, and you couldn't help but let him pull you to your feet.

“Let's get you to bed.”

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