#BECAUSE HE STILL THINKS WHAT HE’S DOING ISN’T ENOUGH?????

[angllicjk]

𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 (𝐌)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Alt Nextdoor Neighbor!Jungkook X Bartender!(fem)Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.4K

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: While you're too busy putting up with that asshole boyfriend of yours, Jungkook spends his time trying to get you to see that he could be a better man for you. You're all he wants and he knows you want him just as much, you just need a little push. Specifically a night in with him and perhaps spill all he feels to you even if it might lead to you both falling apart.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: pining(jk), sum angst, tiny fluff, sorta unrequited feelings but not rlly, oc is emotionally constipated & very conflicted, jk is a desperate feral simp for oc, jk with neck tatts & of course his sleeve tatt😩, jk wearing smudge eyeliner(soooo hot), jk with brow & lip piercing, jealousy, slight possessive jk!, mentions of toxic relationship, smoking pot(jk & oc), infidelity(oc), arguing, sexual tension, heavy petting, heated making out, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, big dick!jk, softdom!jk, sub!oc, rough vaginal fingering, oral(f receiving very briefly), cum eating/tasting, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink/difference, light dirty talk, missionary, biting/marking & light choking.

A/N: Hiii!. I’m back with another fic 🫶🏻 this took kinda long to finish & for what, I was kinda iffy about it but I rlly wanted to post another story again. I rlly hope you enjoy this, pls let me know. I shall post another one soon hopefully. I love youuu allll💗💕🩷🎀

Through the thick haze that lingers over the both of you in his bedroom, Jungkook still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re real and sitting right next to him. A cloudy puff of smoke escapes your red stained lips, licking them right after and when you turn to look at him with a blissful smile. He couldn’t think of a better sight. A better moment than this, because he likes the way you look beside him in his room, on his bed, when you look at him like that. Just you.

Jungkook’s been trying to get you to come over to his place for a while now. Seeing you in the halls in passing or down at the laundromat and sometimes in the elevator isn’t enough for him. Being next door to you simply isn’t enough. The amount of times he’s knocked on your door to borrow some fucking sugar or to ask if you need your sink fixed again. Hell, he’s gone as far as pretending his shower was broken just so he could use yours in the meantime. Anything in the book just to get closer to you really.

Like almost every night when he’s waiting up for you after your shift from the bar a little ways from the complex just so he could walk you home. Asking about your night and keeping you company down the sketchy dark streets because he doesn’t like the thought of you all alone out there.

You always remind him that he doesn’t have to do that but Jungkook insists he must and walks you home every night anyway. He likes to. Especially if it means he gets to spend more time with you while keeping you safe.

“I just needa make sure my pretty neighbor gets inside safely, can’t have anything happen to her.”

An addictive sensual melody of a song plays low from his stereo system, filling the lingering silence between you in Jungkook’s bedroom and the heady bliss you’re starting to feel puts your overworked mind at ease.

You said you wanted to forget about whatever happened in your walls earlier(all he heard was some heated argument between you and your bitch ass boyfriend) and for once not feel a single thing but that of the burning relaxation between your fingers. Which is why you’re currently sitting beside him on his comfy bed smoking some of the pot he deals. And yet, here he is making you feel a million other things instead. Jungkook is not even doing anything but merely existing.

The way he looks so pretty leaning back against his deep burgundy colored wall. It’s cute how long strands of hair nearly cover his dark eye-lined eyes, although you miss the sight of his hot brow piercing. He had you melting on sight when he walked you home not even an hour ago when you first saw him. The fit of a signature leather jacket, an old band tee that fits his slim frame perfectly and baggy denim jeans with a metal square studded belt gleaming around his hips. Veiny wrists clad in thick leather bands, some silver studded and spiked as well. Long slender fingers adorning pretty silver jewelry.

Jungkook always looks so good.

Damn him for being so fucking hot.

“Got anything on your mind?. Wanna share?.” He breaks the silence, staring back at you whilst taking a long drag from the thick blunt held within two digits. His leather jacket had been shrugged off the moment you both entered his room and now you’ve got the pleasure of staring at his beautiful tattooed arm and a few that litter the right side of his neck.

It’s a moment before you answer, eyes trailing up to his pretty irises that stare back at you, glazed over with a look you can’t quite pinpoint this instant, but it makes your insides feel on fire. If he knew what you were currently thinking about, you wonder what he’d say or do. The guy is almost always running through your mind, as much as you don’t want to admit it.

“I don’t think so.”

He hears you utter softly, tearing your gaze away to place your attention upon the many posters he’s got plastered over his wall instead. You can’t handle the way he’s looking at you anymore. Jungkook just loves eye contact.

“Why not?.” He sighs in disbelief, neglecting his half smoked blunt on the ashtray near him on his desk. Jungkook doesn’t want to get too fucked up and properly enjoy this time spent with you. He’s not sure if you’d wanna come back again after tonight. But he can’t help but think that you look like you belong here right beside him.

A breathy chuckle tumbles out of you along with smoke. You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Because it’s simply not something I want you to know.”

Now Jungkook really wants to know what's going on inside that mind of yours. He’s got a few guesses, but he’s not so sure you’d like to hear them.

A sudden thought ponders in his mind and with a quirk of a brow he scoots a bit closer as he then suggests,

“Well, what if I tell you something in return?.”

The idea momentarily intrigues you, lifting your head to meet his excitement filled orbs. He almost looks innocent for a change.

“Mm, like what?.” You ask before inhaling another huff of the now shortened blunt.

Jungkook gets a bit distracted watching you and the way you blow out the smoke from your lips. Why do you make smoking look so hot?.

Another thing he finds himself distracted by is the peek of cleavage he sees by the first few buttons undone of your white blouse mandatory for your bartending gig. His throat constricts at the sight, arousal burning in his gut and Jungkook forces his eyes back up, delaying in his response to you.

“It can be anything.”

“Fine, tell me a secret.” You comply without much thought, not really minding the idea at all. It should be fun and simple, something else to keep the thoughts at bay.

Jungkook likes the sound of that, so he leans close and whispers in your ear. The deepness of his low timbre and lips slightly grazing the shell of your ear, it all sends a good tingle down your spine you try to fight off. You don’t want him to know the effect he has on you.

“I heard you the other night through the wall and I fucked my fist hard imagining it was you instead. Came so damn hard hearing the hot sounds you made.”

The filth he just confessed widens your eyes in slight surprise. Did he just say that?. The fact that Jungkook got off to the sound of you trying to make yourself cum after hours in bed and admitted it was so hot.

The walls are thin and you’ve found his bed is adjacent to yours with the same layout as your own apartment. So it’s no wonder he could hear you. Sometimes you hear him as well.

You very much heard him that night too and his desperate sexy moans through the walls fueled your own drive to your end with your hot neighbor in mind. So much for keeping the thoughts at bay, because now they stray further imagining what he might look like himself laying in bed chasing his own end. Most likely shirtless, boxers pulled halfway down with a tight fist wrapped around his hard cock, head thrown back, sweaty chest heaving, mouth wide open and groa— Okay! That’s enough!. You force the sinful thoughts to go away at once. It’s definitely not something you want to think about right now with him right beside you. It’s not so good for your foggy mind and the ache between your legs.

Jungkook leans back a bit, taking in the expression on your face with a teasing grin. He knows he’s got you all hot and bothered. You can try to hide it all you want, but he knows. Jungkook always knows.

“Your turn.” The whisper he rasps deeply in your ear fuels simmering heat in the pit of your tummy. It’s crazy how just hearing his voice is enough to make you feel all hot.

‘Come on Y/N. Keep it together’.

When you turn to look at him once again with those pretty eyes, all Jungkook wants is to simply tug you to him impossibly closer and kiss the fuck out of you. To taste those sweet lips he’s always dreaming about.

“I like that you walk me home every night, it’s sweet of you.” He barely hears your low voice, but you say it so lovely with a tiny smile peering up at him, giving him a glimpse of your pretty teeth.

How are you so fucking cute right now?.

“I like you so much.” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to confess, passion dripping off his tongue. It tugs your heartstrings, but you pretend you didn’t hear it.

“That time you took a shower in my bathroom when you forgot a towel and I brought you one. Well, after you left I went to my room and touched myself because I thought you looked so hot half naked and with dripping wet hair.” It almost took a lot for you to admit that, but it just came out. A sheepish smile spreads across your face with slight embarrassment. You bring the blunt up to your lips for another much needed drag.

Since he shared a dirty secret, why not share one too. It’s only fair.

“Fuck, your so hot.” Jungkook groans at the thought, shutting his eyes for a moment as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth imagining you in bed desperately trying to get yourself off to the thought of him.

“I want you to come over more.” He then says, a bit eagerly turning back to you.

“I like the little talks we have and when you're kind enough to ask if I need help with anything.” You add on, gaze softening as you remember those times Jungkook was able to make you forget what a hard night you had with stories of his own that got a few laughs out of you or even asking about the things no one ever takes the time to learn about you, especially when he never does.

It’s what you really appreciate and a part of you hopes that you never lose the safe space that you feel with Jungkook, whenever you’re near him. He’s a comforting warmth, a home you terribly miss sometimes, keeps the empty void within filled that yearns for something. He makes it all feel even a little better most times.

“You’re such a sweetheart and I hate when that motherfucker comes around when he treats you like shit.”

And suddenly it changes in a millisecond. You still briefly, body growing tense beside him and he notices the change as well when the smile slips off your face, knowing he hit a nerve he shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t have to say that.” Low and soft you utter tinged with sadness and he feels the disappointment in your words. In the way you look at him. Your hurt filled eyes tell him so. Striking a pang in his heart, but he can’t bear this any longer. Everything he feels on the inside. Himself. For you. About you. It’s always you.

“But it’s true. Why do you let it happen when…when you have me.” Jungkook sighs with the utmost pented frustration. He doesn’t get why you let yourself get treated so badly. That the lousy fucker is taking advantage of you and messing with your beautiful head. It’s sickening. His heart hurts knowing it and the fact that he can’t necessarily do anything about it. At least not without hurting you in the process by butting into your toxic relationship. You’d probably stop speaking to him if he tried to as well, something he certainly cannot risk. But here he is doing just that. Jungkook just can’t let it happen anymore.

“It’s…it’s just complicated.”

It’s all you could ever say, he’s heard it all before. It’s always so fucking complicated and it seems like it’s never going to get uncomplicated any time soon either. Deep down you know this, but you’re too stubborn to still try to make it work.

“It wouldn’t be with me.” He clasps his hand over yours that’s resting upon your naked thigh, gently squeezing your plush skin in a comforting manner. It startles you, makes you feel those things all over again. Everything he’s saying is getting to your head and taking over your body. Maybe it’s the weed. It’s definitely the weed.

“What are you doing?.” With furrowed brows in confusion, you pull your hand away from under his searing touch and scoot further to create some type of distance. He’s too close for comfort, for the addictive feeling he provides that’s all too consuming.

You’re slipping away from him, putting up those walls he’s been trying to tear down for months now. He won’t let you, not this time.

“I just wanna show you how sweet I could be to you.” Jungkook never tears his gaze away, eyes holding so much emotion that you almost can’t hold it together yourself and it’s enough to crack some of the hard shelled resolve you’ve tried scraping together in a desperate attempt to stay put, never stray.

“You are sweet Jungkook, so sweet I-…I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.” You sighed out almost defeatedly as you slump your head against his wall, staring up at the ceiling.

He’s the sweetest and everything opposite from the man you’ve been seeing. Jungkook cares about you so much, you can tell by the way he’s always looking out for you. The things he says, the things he does for you even when you don’t ask for it. The efforts he makes in getting to know the real you and when he gives you the heart-melting look that makes you want to unleash the deepest parts of you that you never share with anyone else. To let him have his way. Let him have you.

“I want you, you already know this.” Jungkook’s husky whisper brings you back to him and the comforting yet suffocating confines of his bedroom.

He wants to so badly reach out and hold your hand. Have you look at him again and make you hear his heart out till it’s full content, till you know everything he hopes, dreams and desires for.

“You don’t need that stupid pretty boy, I bet he doesn’t know how to take care of you since I keep hearing you night after night.” Jungkook shakes his head, gently leaning closer to have you near him again. Within his four walls, inches, millimeters. It’s never enough for Jungkook and it never will be. If he could sear himself into your skin, meld himself forever to your body, he would if it meant never parting from you. If it meant you’d belong to him and he belonged to you.

Wouldn’t you want that too?.

Your breath hitches at how terribly right he is. It’s always half assed and most of the time you never finish, leaving you high and dry and it hurts whenever he leaves right after, stinging your heart and pride. Leaving you alone in bed to cry, wallowing in self pity.

“Plus, I’m way prettier.”

Of course, he speaks no lies. Jungkook’s the prettiest and handsomest you’ve ever seen. No one could compare nor compete. You’re always staring a little too long at his pretty plush lips and the shiny lip ring pierced into his skin you find so hot, glittering doe eyes, flawless features that always steals the breath from your lungs whenever you see him. He’s like a perfect daydream come to life.

“I just know I could have that pussy soaking for me in seconds.” He’s in your ear again and again his hand gently grips over your thigh, fingers sinking in between the skin where they meet.

The sudden touch has you snapping your head to look back at him, startled and he’s so close. If you lean in just a bit you could kiss him. Jungkook smiles his cute smile down at you as his hand kneads your plush thigh.

“Huh, you just need to hear my voice and have me look at you like this, don’t you?.” He rasps deeply. The sound rich in your ears that sends a pulse and multitude of flutters to your pussy.

He isn’t wrong. Jungkook doesn’t have to do much to get you wet and going. Especially when he lives in your mind most late nights.

He hums and pushes his hand further between your legs and you slightly pull them apart for him, falling into his sweet temptation. You bet his long and slender fingers would feel so good, better than your own on those nights when you’re desperate.

“I bet you’re so wet right now. I could take care of it.”

A soft moan escapes you at the first light stroke of his finger against your covered clit he finds easily.

“There she is, let me in baby, please.” He rubs it over a few more times, nail grazing it gently before his hand fully engulfs your heat, cupping it in his hold. Palm digging against your mound and rubbing it in a slow but hard tandem that pulls a loud moan from your throat, unable to hold it back and you allow your eyes to fall shut, basking in the pleasure he provides. Gently rocking your hips up against the firmness of his palm. He drops his head beside yours, groaning into your ear as he feels wetness seeping through your panties. Cock hardening to life, throbbing painfully and the tightness in his jeans is beginning to feel almost unbearable.

“I know you want me too.” Jungkook urges, breath picking up and suddenly you snap out of his spell, quickly removing his hand from between your legs.

No. It’s too much. You can’t let yourself fall too deep in whatever this is between you. It isn’t fair to Jungkook and yourself, not when he’s still in the picture.

“You’re delusional.” You spat with spite, scooting further away from him once again. Disappointed with every second that you almost let yourself get pulled astray into his tight clutches.

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. He grins amusedly and shuffles his way to you on his bed. “Maybe, but you are too if you think things are gonna work out with that little boy.”

“It might.” You retort weakly, although you don’t sound so sure yourself.

He cackles, throwing his head back.

“Oh, sweetheart it wouldn’t and you know it.”

Jungkook is beside you once again and continues on his little spiel.

“I know you like me too. You can’t stay away either. Stop lying to yourself. You want me to keep looking at you, want me to keep coming over and ask for stupid shit cuz you know I just wanna see you. You want me to keep wanting you, but baby I could only hold out for so long.”

His words rattle you, stir something in you that you try to force down, but perhaps Jungkook is right. You like the guy, absolutely adore him and maybe if you had met him first, in different circumstances. One where you're a better version of yourself, not struggling, not so desperate for a new change in life, things could be different.

“Why do you like me so much?.” A frustrated sigh heaves past your lips, looking back at him with deep perplexity.

Who would like you like this?. Want you this way?.

You know he’s liked you ever since you moved in all those months ago and you’ve always wondered why. What did he see in you?. What made him want you this much?.

“Because I did the moment I saw you. It just happened. I think you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, always.” Jungkook’s eyes are practically heart shaped, staring back at you with such intensity yet a loving softness that makes your whole world spin out of control.

Smoke wafts between you and the now neglected bud between your fingers continue to burn just like your desire for him.

You don’t know if it would ever die like fiery embers, fade away into nothingness. It possibly couldn’t. He’s always fueling the fire.

“No one’s captured my sole attention so easily like you do. I’m so drawn to you and I can’t help it. I like how sweet you really are. I like watching you get excited over little things because I hardly get to see you that way. Like that time we stopped at the convenience store on the way home and you were so happy they restocked those jelly candies you like so much. It was really cute.”

Your breath hitches and your insides turn to mush.

Fuck, what is he doing?.

Jungkook chuckles, seemingly thinking of something else before he goes on to tell you more.

“You’re cute when you think you’re alone in the laundromat, with your earphones in, singing along to your music and doing little dances. You care, even if you get irritated with me sometimes, you still don’t hesitate to help and I know you’re smart. I’ve sneaked a peek of your architecture designs and ideas before when you weren’t looking.”

He sees the second your eyes widen with shock and slight irritation but before you could say anything on the matter, he beats you to it.

“They’re great, you don’t need to give up something you love just for someone who doesn’t deserve you. You don’t need him at all to make it. You could do that on your own.” Jungkook speaks everything he means and the way he’s looking at you right now is scary because deep down you know it’s true. You tear your glossed over eyes from his ardent ones and shuffle off of his bed completely.

“You know, I came here to forget things but you’re only making it harder by bringing this shit up Jungkook. I don’t need this right now. I’d appreciate it if you could just mind your own fucking business for once.” You’re snagging your purse from his bedside table and yanking it onto your shoulder, putting out the neglected blunt on the ashtray near his soft glowing lamp light.

His brows pin together in deep confusion and hurries off his bed as well with abruptness, trailing after you.

“You know I can’t when it comes to you.”

Standing beside you in a second, eyes moving frantically over the side of your face. He places a hand upon your shoulder, shaking you gently for a second more of your attention.

What had he done?. He just told you half of what he loves and admires of you and then you're running away the next second, looking mad at him as if he’s the one who's to blame for the hell in your life.

“Would you please look at me?.”

You don’t give him that, too busy trying to get your heels back on as you hold onto his wall for support. You’re leaving and Jungkook’s panicking. He’s in front of you now, invading your space as you shift to get the other heel on.

“If you want to forget, I could make you.”

“I know what you really need, just say the words and I will.” He urges on, watching you intensely for your next move and impatiently of the words you speak.

“I need to go.” Is all you mutter, moving past him to his door as you reach for the old brass knob.

Jungkook’s fingers clutch tightly onto the band of your black skirt from behind as a last resort to stop you from twisting it open and leaving.

“Fine. If you leave, then this is the last time I’ll ever bother you. You want me to stay out of your business, I will. I’ll leave you alone for good.” You hear him huff in a threatening snarl, yanking his touch off of you as he backs away to give you the space you clearly wanted.

“I don’t want to keep waiting around for something that’s not gonna happen. I need to move on too.” He then spits with sharp bitterness.

You turn around to meet his frustrated dark orbs. Brows pinched in a mean furrow as he watches you.

It should be enough for you to walk away, to walk out of his room and never look back. He’s making it easy for you but so hard to do so at the same time. If this means not seeing him everyday, his pretty smiles, the talks you two share on the way home together and basking in the comfort he brings you by simply being within his presence. Abandoning the home he’s made in your heart. Fuck!. You can’t do it. You shouldn’t have gotten too close. It was going to hurt either way, you or him and all you’ve been doing is hurting him and ultimately yourself in the process.

“You’re always in the way. Why do you always make everything so goddamn hard, Jungkook.” You huff so frustratedly, shoulders dropping along with your resolve because you can’t do this anymore.

He shakes his head vehemently, jaw tensing as he takes a step closer. His heavy gaze pierces your being. It makes you feel small and pathetic. You are in this moment and so weak for Jungkook and all of what he makes you feel.

“No, you do that on your own. You want to stay miserable with that fucker be my guest, but you know I’d take care of you way better than him. I may not be rich like he is, but I can still give you everything you need.”

Jungkook states, now standing directly in front of you. He never loses the mean furrow or the frustration and burning anger in his eyes you witness. Baring them to you and it takes all of you to keep yourself rooted in place, to not step up to him, lean in and put out the fire yourself.

“I’ll always take care of you. Always make you feel wanted and special because you are to me. I love you but you make it so hard for me when you act like the dumb and weak little thing he wants you to be for him.” The nasty edge of the last sentence he grits through clenched teeth strikes a nerve within you. You know how awfully right he is. It’s draining and a pain how right Jungkook always is but never as much as it is being with him. Despite his crude words, his touch upon your cheek as he curls a strand of hair behind your ear is gentle and soft just how he is with you.

The way you fell for him.

“I want you to be my proud shining gem, my sweet girl.” Harsh gaze softening, cradling your cheek like you’re a precious porcelain doll. He whispers near your lips, pure adoration melting into you and your lustrous eyes warm with a passion that his heart yearns for. Eyes falling to your lips he’s aching on the inside to get a taste of, he can’t help it.

This time you can’t turn away. Can’t stop the feeling he's bloomed inside you ever since you met him in the hallway the first week you moved in all those months ago. This time you can’t fight it and push everything you feel for Jungkook in the deep crevices within that you never look for.

You let yourself feel it all. Your frustration, your weak temptations for the man standing before you that looks at you like you are the whole universe. Deep yearning and ache whenever he’s near. His anger, his frustration, his comfort and all his love. It’s all you truly want.

It’s what drives you to close the hair's breadth distance in between and meld your lips against his soft ones. You feel him go rigid and still for the briefest moment in slight surprise. It’s like electric currents shocking through him at once and he’s tangling his hand in your hair and the other at the side of your neck, kissing you back with just as much fervor. Both of your tongues wrestle together, ravishing each other like you’ve been starved all your life. Teeth clashing, mixed saliva staining the corners of your mouth and chin as you taste one another.

Jungkook pulls you by the waist and yanks you back with him towards the edge of his bed, manhandling you around as he pulls apart from your lips to push you back on his bed. He’s on you in a second and devouring your lips once again. Groaning into your mouth at the taste of you, so sweet and so addictive. Soft moans of yours into his mouth he swallows up and they get louder and desperate at the way he grinds his hips against your covered mound.

“Want you so fucking bad. Always.” Jungkook breathily moans against your cheek, lips traveling past your jaw and upon your neck. Suckling and mouthing hot wet kisses against your skin in his wake to explore your body.

You moan in response, tangling your fingers into his dark hair and tugging at the strands. His touch, kisses, everything feels so amazing. You can’t believe you kept yourself from this. From him for so long.

He paints his own marks into the side of your neck whilst his hands bunch your skirt up to expose your covered core in sexy black lace panties. He pulls his lips apart and lifts his head to peer down at you.

“Can I make you feel good?.” Jungkook groaned softly against you, smooth palm rubbing over your covered cunt and when his fingers brush over your clit through the fabric, how could you deny him when the simple touch of him makes you feel so damn good. Body hot, tingling and aching desperately for him.

“Yes, please! Please!.You softly moan, nodding your head rapidly up at him.

Jungkook chuckles lightheartedly, swiping strands of hair back from your flushed face.

“Heh, aw, you sound so pretty when you beg like that.”

Alas he skims his hand beneath the hem of your panties and plays with your slick folds, spreading them apart with his fingers. They drift lower and feel just how wet you already are and Jungkook groans in delight.

“Fuck, so wet baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll show you how good I can, better than he ever could.”

Your body squirms underneath his big frame towering above you, whines and moans escaping you as he cops his feel of your hot pulsating pussy and a startled gasp tumbles past your lips when Jungkook suddenly tears your panties down your thighs quite aggressively till they fall off your feet.

He pushes your thighs apart and you spread them wider for him as he lowers himself down your body to fully engulf the beautiful sight of your exposed cunt to his hungry eyes. Glossy with your slick, puffed and throbbing just for him. A sharp intake of breath is heard as he stares intensely at your gaping hole. His cock grows harder at the sight and Jungkook has to hold himself back, fingers wrinkling the sheets hard in his hold at the side of your head.

God, you drive him to insanity and he knows he’s not gonna last long once he finally gets to be inside you.

“Jungkook, please don’t just stare.” His eyes snap up towards your face and sees the complete lust swirling in your irises. The furrow between your brows, begging him to do something just like your cunt throbs for the same thing.

“I need you.”

He moans throatily at your desperate plea and it has him springing into action. Leaning back up to smash his lips against yours with his fingers back between your wet folds. He swallows up your whines when his fingers rub your needy clit, gathering the juices you leak to spread all over your bud he plays with. Back arching and mouth falling open against his as he sinks two digits inside immediately with how drenched you absolutely are, coating them fully.

“Oh!. Oh my- fuck!-“ A near-sob racks through you, head falling back against the sheets.

“Feels good huh. You're squeezing my fingers so tight, baby.” Jungkook purrs in your ear, plunging his digits in and out of your plush walls in a maddening pace that already has you a quivering mess beneath him.

Obscene squelches of his fingers fucking your soaked pussy fill the otherwise silence of his bedroom. You don’t even remember when you last heard the remnants of the playlist he had playing long moments ago. All your clouded mind and body knows is the hot pleasure coursing through your veins, just how good Jungkook is making you feel.

Your breathy and whiny moans raise octaves higher the deeper he reaches inside your cunt each time he pounds his digits back in, finding that special spongy spot that gushes more of your essence, dripping down his hand and wetting his sheets below. He doesn’t care one bit of the mess you’re making, hell no, it only fuels his carnal desire to see you make an even bigger mess, to see just how fucking wetter he can get your pretty pussy for him.

“Right there huh?. Mmm, fuck you’re so hot. So perfect for me, sweetheart.” He’s so turned on, body buzzing with hot arousal watching you squirm and the way your wet pussy tightens around his fingers. No thoughts but your tight plush cunt, the hot sounds you make that sends his cock throbbing in his jeans begging for a feel of you. Filled with the sudden urge as he licks the side of your face up, tongue flattening and leaving a sheen of his saliva before biting the apple of your cheek hard with a deep groan rumbling against your skin.

The action you find oddly hot yourself and he knows it too by the way your pussy clenches around his fingers hard. He catches your pretty face that contorts deeply in pleasure, watching him with fucked out eyes, mouth wide open of your cute moans falling one after the other at the fast pace he fucks your cunt.

Fuck, how are you so fucking beautiful like this?. How do you always manage to outdo yourself and make him fall harder for you 100x more than he already has.

Needing to taste you all over again, he drives his tongue down your open mouth, sucking and wrestling with yours in a frantic heated rhythm. Jungkook practically devours you, never wanting to part and both your saliva mixed makes the kiss more messy and nasty than it already is.

He never ceases the harsh pace his fingers pound into you nor does he give you a moment to breath kissing you like he’ll never get to again.

“Mmm!- Ju- ngh!.” You struggle against him to get some air in, voice muffled against his mouth.

How he ravishes you and fucks your leaking pussy, it’s almost too much and the coil in your stomach further expands, almost ready to explode any moment at how heavenly you feel.

Jungkook gets one last long kiss of your lips then pulls apart finally and you get blessed with the sight of his rosy, plump lips with a sheen of your mixed salivas coating them. There’s small streaks of your smeared red lipstick at the corner of his lips and down his chin as well. He looks so pretty and the sight of him sends your cunt pulsating a multitude of currents around his fingers.

A whine of protest leaves you the second he backs away a bit, hands pushing your thighs higher against your chest and he lifts a brow at you to comply.

“Be a good girl and hold them up for me.” In a heartbeat, you hook your hands beneath the fold of your knees and keep them up like he wants.

“Good girl.” Jungkook hums with satisfaction and leans back over you, dropping his head against your forehead, dark lidded eyes boring into yours.

“Baby, I want you to watch with me as I make this perfect pussy squirt for me.”

You moan in response and when he shifts his head to look down, so do you and your breath gets caught in your throat.

Watching him continue to batter your pussy with his two long pretty fingers plunging in and out at a menacingly fast and hard pace. With his tattooed hand that is clad in his leather and silver bracelets, a thick black one with spikes. Eyes skimming over the veins that pop out prominently from the strain he’s putting on his tattooed arm to make you cum. Fingers reaching so deep in your pussy you nearly can’t take it anymore as he pounds and twists his digits in. It’s all enough to have you quake with immense pleasure, eyes wanting to fall shut but you fight to keep them open, orbs crossing over and the band in your tummy snaps at once as you cum hard, jets of your essence shooting out your gaping hole the moment Jungkook pulls his fingers out to see your pussy squirt like he so badly wanted to.

It splashes over your whole mound, wetting your thighs with droplets and soaking his sheets below your bottom as well as sprinkling some spots on his dark denim jeans.

“Holy shit!. That’s so fucking hot. You’re so- Mmm!- So hot, baby.” Jungkook growls almost animalistically, cupping both your cheeks and giving you a searing kiss, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting into the plump flesh before letting it go.

He nearly came in his pants at the sight of your pussy squirting and the obscene view of it soaking wet, still pulsating from the intense pleasure he gave you.

“One more time before I fuck your pussy, wanna see it again.” Jungkook pleads while pecking your lips with chaste kisses over and over.

“No!. I don’t thin-“ You immediately shake your head whining at the thought, you're so sensitive and you’re not so sure you can do it again. It was a whole new intense feeling for you.

Jungkook seems to think otherwise, nodding his head down at you.

“Yes, baby. Yes you can. I’ll fuckin’ make you do it again for me.”

With that, he’s shoving the same two digits back into your sloppy cunt, sinking in knuckle deep and fucking his fingers in your pussy twice as fast and hard. So determined to make you explode like a waterfall once more.

Your moans become uncontrollable, high in pitch as you throw your head back. Body buzzing with hot searing pleasure, hips and legs shaking violently as you lay there and take it. His fingers reach so deep, jackhammering into your g spot over and over in a frenzy.

Jungkook sucks in a deep breath, moaning along with you. So addicted to watching the sight of your beautiful tear stained face cry out in ecstasy then down below where he fucks your soaked pussy, fingers drenched in your sweet juices. Damn, he doesn’t know which sight to focus on more.

You’re quaking with intense pleasure, so loud and crying out for him. He feels a hand of yours clinging onto the front of his shirt and tugs, needing something to help you grasp reality but you’re too far gone. Too drunk off of the way he’s making you feel with his fingers alone.

“Shit!. You’re gonna cum. Gonna fuckin’ squirt for me. Can feel it sweetheart. Squeezing me so damn tight.” Your walls grip his digits so tight he almost can’t pull out all the way, so he keeps abusing them deeper against that sweet spot of yours.

“I- fuckkk!. Jungkook!. I can’t- Nghh!. Oh!.” You sob aloud, almost pathetically as your body shakes violently underneath him. You’re so close, he can feel it and Jungkook is just as desperate as you are to have you reach euphoria.

“Yes you can. C’mon baby, let go for me. Fuckin’ give it to me please!.” Jungkook coos down at you with low growls and pleas of his own. It’s all it takes to have you reach your end. “Hah!. Fuck fuck fuckkkk.” Convulsing, eyes blown in ecstasy staring back at him as you cum so hard around his digits. Splashing more of your essence all over his hand and pussy absolutely drenched with your wetness.

Jungkook stares mesmerized at the mess he’s made of you and he can’t help but to play with you a bit more. Splaying his fingers flat over your folds, further spreading your wetness all over. You’re so soaked, swollen red and still so sensitive. You push his hand away with a helpless yelp of protest.

He surprises you as he lifts his hand and licks your slick off of his fingers, sticking the same ones he fucked you with in his mouth. Sucking on them and moaning in delight at your taste as he does so. A breath of yours hitches, feeling hot all over once again at the lewd sight of him enjoying the taste of you off his fingers.

“Mmm, so fuckin’ good. Love your taste…need more.”

Before you know it Jungkook lowers himself between your spread legs, face diving first into your pussy. A sharp gasp escapes you fleetingly, chest heaving and you watch from above as he laps at your folds. Drunken orbs staring up at you before they fall shut with brows furrowed deeply in pleasure like he’s the one getting eaten out.

“S-stop!. Pleasseee!.” You nearly scream as he tongue fucks your hole, thighs clamping tight around his head as you try to wiggle feel, but Jungkook doesn’t care and wraps his arms around your thighs to stop you from thrashing in his hold.

“Mmngh…just a taste, baby.” The vibrations of his growl against your pussy sends a rack of shivers through you and you whine helplessly, trying to pull him off by the grip of his hair.

“Hah!. Uh- that’s enough!.” You yank harder and this time he relents, mouth pulling off of your slick pearl with a wet suck.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue and he’s become so addicted to it. He didn’t want to stop and have you keep cumming on his face, in his mouth, on his tongue and drink all you have to offer up like the best thing in the world. Jungkook rests his forehead against your sweaty one, heavy breaths mixing with your pants and fanning over your cheeks. Carnal passion burning in his pretty smudge eyeliner orbs. He’s so fucking hot and your pussy clenches hard staring up at him. He pecks your lips once and twice more, missing them on him.

“Next time, I’ll make you cum on my tongue. Eat this sweet pussy for hours till you beg me to fuckin stop and trust me, I won’t want to.” Jungkook promises, backing away to finally unbuckle his studded belt, watching you as he does so and your pretty pussy that still throbs for him.

His words catch you off guard for a moment and excitement courses within you at the thought of doing this again. Smile growing wide as you watch him get his pants off while you lift your own top overhead, fingers undoing your bra and tossing it aside.

He stills for a moment, sucks in a breath at the sight of you, plump breasts, all naked, and exposed lying there just for him.

“Fuck, look at you. So beautiful.” Jungkook whispers more to himself as he lifts his own t-shirt overhead and you marvel at the beauty he is. He’s well defined, built of scrumptious muscles, prominent veins you have a certain attraction for with a snatched waist you're almost jealous of and deep v-lines leading to his clean shaven dick that stands tall and proud. Your eyes immediately zero in on it. He’s painfully hard, big and girthy, mushroom tip an angry red with beads of precum leaking down his shaft. It twitches a few times and he can’t help but to wrap his hand around himself, squeezing his base and lightly jacking himself off for a bit.

His dick is so pretty just like him. Every inch of his body is absolutely beautiful.

It’s so hot seeing him touch himself and watching you with heavy lust filled eyes as he does so. It has you slithering a hand past your naval and parting your folds, slipping your fingers inside. A soft moan escapes you at the feeling and it seems to have snapped something in Jungkook because suddenly he’s yanking your hand out of your pussy and pulling it up to his lips. Sucking on your digits for another taste of you. Throwing your hand back down and leaning over your smaller frame as he grabs you by the throat with slight pressure.

You're a bit startled but so excited and utterly turned on by him and the slight aggression he shows towards you, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in even closer. He grabs himself by the base and lines his cock with your leaking hole, resting his mushroom tip against it just barely pushing in.

“Do you still want this with me?. Tell me.” He adds more pressure upon your throat, lightening his grip a moment after to have you answer him properly.

Though you nod your head frantically at his words along with desperate pleas falling rapidly from your lips.

“Yes. I want you so bad, Jungkook. Only you.”

“Fuck!.” He hisses, pushing the entirety of his hard length inside your pussy to the hilt in one go with no resistance due to how wet you still are. Body going still and muttering curses against your cheek, breath hitching at how heavenly you feel around his cock. So fucking wet, plush walls chocking him tight and the flutters of your pussy inside he can feel has him on edge already, eyes nearly rolling because fuck, do you feel so goddamn good.

“Fucking tight. God, feel so perfect baby.” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting more marks into your skin since the ones from before are starting to fade. You’re his now and if you don’t know it already he’ll make you.

“Mm!. Please fuck me Jungkook.” You moan wantonly, bucking your hips up for friction. His cock fills you up so good you can hardly think straight, being stretched out by him.

“Shh, baby. I’ll make you feel so good. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” He lifts his head up, staring directly into your eyes and tightening his hold around your throat again as he drags his big cock out till the fat tip, slamming back into you hard. Repeating the motion over and over at a maddening pace.

Both your groans and moans fill his bedroom mixed with skin slapping and the obscene sound of his cock plunging deep into your soaking pussy with wet squelches.

“Harder!. Hngh. Please!.” You grab at his shoulder and biceps, nearly sobbing when he gives you just what you want. Pounding your pussy deeper and rough with hard thrusts, heavy balls smacking against your ass. Both your legs are tossed over his shoulders and he’s got your thighs pressed against your chest with his body nearly crushing you. He loves the way you look beneath him, so small and cute.Tattooed hand still around your throat choking you with enough pressure to send you reeling.

“So fuckin’ pretty. Look at you, taking my cock so well.” He groans roughly against your lips, slipping his tongue out and into your mouth. Making out with you in a sloppy and heated manner.

“Nngh…feel so- Ahh!. So- so good!.” His cock fucks into you so deep, hitting your sweet spot directly each time. Legs shaking, body quaking and face contorted in immense pleasure, tears streak your pink cheeks as you whine and sob like a desperate little thing begging to cum undone.

“Know it does, baby. Pussy squeezing me so good. Gonna fuckin’ cum soon.” His words are broken heaves, brows pinched and mouth open of moans that have you clenching harder on his cock, making it difficult pulling halfway out with each drag. He's definitely not gonna last long like he initially thought.

Your soaked pussy hugs him snuggly and the lewd sight of it swallowing his big cock, creamy white ring surrounding his base and balls with both your essence mixed. He throbs inside of you, nearing his own release.

“Gonna let me cum inside?, sweetheart.” Jungkook grunts hotly above you, hips snapping harshly into yours.

“Mhmm!. Please!. Want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your high pitched squeals and pleas are like music to his ears. Each sound drives him closer to his sweet end.

“Fuck, keep begging me like that and I’ll bust inside this pretty cunt.” He gruffs, stomach caving in with each clench of your pussy as you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts.

“Ohh!. Please!. Want you to fill me up. Make a mess in my pussy, please!.” You babble out, moaning aloud as you do so and cling onto him tighter. Your tits bounce so hypnotizingly with every pound you take and Jungkook removes his hand from your neck to fondle each one, pulling and twisting your puffy nubs that makes you an even whiner mess.

Jungkook loves this so much, and thinks he could never get used to this because he’s always going to want to see you this way. Over and over now that he’s got a taste and feel of you.

“Did you ever let him?.” He doesn’t know what propels him to ask. Voice an octave deeper in a husk and almost stern. Maybe it’s the way you squeeze around him to Heaven and back, or the thought that he’s seen you this way before.

Did that asshole ever have you like this?. Have you a crying and moaning mess?. Creaming his cock and looking like the perfect sin while doing so. Looking beautiful and so drunk off his dick fucking you so good. He possibly couldn’t right?.

With rapid shakes of your head at his words, you moan your truths to him. So fucked out and desperate to even think straight.

“Not w-without a condom…no one’s ever-“

His steady rhythm falters and he presses his weight into you, holding you tight against his embrace as his arms wrap under you. Head against yours and staring down into your pretty drunken stare.

“Shit!. Hngh. Gonna f-fuckkk…claim this pussy. You're mine, baby.”

You keep your gaze focused on him but your eyes roll back once you feel his hand slip down in between and rub your clit with his calloused fingers in rapid figures of eight.

“Cum with me baby, please.” Jungkook pleads hoarsely, hot breath panting against your face.

“C’mon, milk my fuckin’ cock. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

His cock pounds into you so deliciously with his fingers on your clit and the way he stares down at you, cooing filthy words, looking so hot as he does so. It's all overwhelming and what snaps the coil in your tummy, clenching so hard around him as you finally cum undone with Jungkook following in close pursuit. Painting your walls with spurts of his white hot release, cock pressed so deep and hips stuttering against you.

“Fucckkk!. Shit!. Hah…Nghh.” His body falls against yours, chest heaving with unsteady breaths as he tries to calm his racing heart.

You’re no better, panting and staring up at the ceiling basking in the afterglow of the amazing pleasure and orgasm he gave you, his cum seeping out of you.

Jungkook lifts his head up to meet your gaze just as you look down and he shuffles closer in dire need to kiss you but a wince tumbles out of you suddenly that he pauses abruptly midway.

“It hurts.” You say with a soft groan, wiggling your back, indicating the spiked band cuffing his wrist was poking against your skin in an uncomfortable way.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, too lost in pleasure during sex to pay any mind to it before.

“Oh fuck!- I’m sorry.” Jungkook is quick to apologize, leaning up from your body to remove his arms. He rips the band off his wrist at once, pouting at the obvious indents he also notices he left above your chest where he had grabbed you by the throat during sex.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” You reassure him with a small smile, hand clasped over his own that softly rests against your stomach.

It’s grown silent but not uncomfortable and now that you’re both not clouded with lust or driven by overwhelming emotions, Jungkook wants to tell you that this meant something to him. That everything he does for you will always mean something deeper to him. He doesn’t know if you’ve gotten it through your head yet just how much you really mean to him. How much he’s loved you all this time when you were too busy with that fool, stuck in your own four walls and in your own world most of the time.

You never really let him until now, but he wants to know more of your world. Explore it with you and expand it with him.

Would it be something that you would want?. Or would you go back to your rich boyfriend who treats you like crap each time you two get together.

With a deep breath, Jungkook gathers himself before he could tell you all of this and he clears his throat, breaking the silence at once.

“Listen, I wanted to-“

A blaring ringtone rudely interrupts Jungkook and you both stare back at each other, brows furrowed in confusion. You lean up a bit and he backs up to give you space as you reach for your discarded purse on his floor. Bringing it back with you on his bed, you grab for the device inside and see the name lit up across the screen.

It’s him.

You hesitate and don’t answer it, peering up at Jungkook who watches you intensely. He has that look on his face and glazed over eyes silently pleading with you.

He quickly snatches the phone from you so suddenly, peeking at the screen before turning it off completely. Jungkook’s pushing you back down into his bed, hovering over you.

“Don’t go back to him. Stay.” He pleads, desperately so.

Please stay with me.

You know what he’s really asking of you, you see it in his eyes and your heart sinks when you realize what he’s possibly thinking right now.

Reaching up, you cradle his cheek and bring his face down to you, catching his lips with yours in a deep kiss. Pulling back, you promise him with your whole heart, every fiber inside you burning to be with him.

He’s the only one who's ever truly made you feel wanted, loved and saw you for who you are. Jungkook never once tried to control you, take over your life, isolate you, tell you pretty lies, tear you down only to bring you back up and do it all over again because he liked seeing you cry. Never threatened to hurt you if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted and he sure as hell never came to you smelling like another woman's intoxicating perfume.

He wasn’t like him and you were so done being with someone who doesn’t treat you like you deserve. For once, you choose happiness and your happiness belongs with Jungkook and the life you could finally start living for yourself.

“I won’t go anywhere, Jungkook. I want to stay with you.”

Jungkook knows what you mean when you say those words, he can feel it. He can see it reflecting back at him and his heart has never felt so good before because for once, his happiness chose him back and he’d never trade it for anything in this world.

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this!. Tysm for reading 🫶🏻 let me know yours thoughts & feelings 🎀

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[munariplans]

forty, love | natasha romanoff

synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.9k words

a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.

read part 2

masterlist

“slice forehand.”

thwock. 

“inside-out forehand.”

another thwock.

“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”

despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache. 

“not fast enough?” you quipped. 

he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”

you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”

“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”

he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room. 

natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.

she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”

“coach said otherwise.”

“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”

you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”

natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”

“baby–”

“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now. 

“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”

“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”

you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least. 

“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous. 

suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own. 

“nat–”

“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”

you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”

natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.

but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself. 

“i understand.”

she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”

– 

natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself. 

“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute. 

you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”

your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”

you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”

“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”

“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”

“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.

natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open. 

the both of you left shortly after. 

– 

in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing. 

it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win. 

but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought. 

thwock. a missed shot from your end.

another thwock. “out!”

by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost. 

natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left. 

the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you. 

“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates. 

“come on, we just wanted–”

“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”

the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.

she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”

“losing isn’t very nice.”

“they meant well, baby.”

“no, they don’t.”

“how many times do i have–”

“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”

“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”

natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always. 

your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get. 

then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it. 

you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”

she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed. 

– 

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with  natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm. 

which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room. 

“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.

checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.

it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place. 

you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm. 

when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry. 

so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.

– 

steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches. 

you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration. 

she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.

when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night. 

– 

you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.

your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then. 

she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today. 

but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”

he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”

“...right.”

“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”

“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled. 

“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder. 

instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore. 

you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else. 

that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.

– 

but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam. 

natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”

you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer. 

steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months. 

turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning. 

you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more. 

–

thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.

a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.

last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock. 

the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals. 

you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning. 

the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse. 

–

it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over. 

natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did. 

when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television. 

but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off. 

she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked. 

but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.

but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you? 

you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.

to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital. 

she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.

natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?

what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.

“nat.”

she looked up. “yes?”

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”

“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”

“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”

you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”

“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”

“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?” 

you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.

natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.

she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”

“please.”

“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”

– 

thwock. thwock. thwock. 

princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.

your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear. 

princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport. 

break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over. 

you weren’t quick enough. princeton won. 

a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #tennis player! reader #challengers

[gay-dorito-dust]

Are your requests open? If not feel free to ignore this. If so you can also still ignore this but I wanted to ask, could you write how the batboys/batfam would react to a vigilante reader who left Gotham but came back a year or so later?

I don't know if you listen to Noah Kahan but maybe something along the lines of the song “Your Gonna Go Far”? It's just a good song that makes me think of them for some reason IDK 😂

Damian’s was a little angsty but eh. I held this ask off for long enough.

Dick would tease that the reason you came back was because you missed him too much, when in actuality it was more or less the opposite, he missed his fighting crime alongside his vigilante buddy.

‘Fuck off.’ You’d scoff and go to playfully push him, only for him to take it a step further and willingly fall from the rooftop you were hanging out on, and you immediately stood up. ‘Dick?’ You’d call as you peered over the ledge for him. ‘This isn’t funny!’ You shouted in attempt to hide the fact that you were incredibly fearful of the state you’d find him in.

However Dick reappears doing a handstand with a shit eating grin on his face as he used his hands to move towards you, much to your chagrin.

‘I’ll leave again.’ You threatened, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘No you won’t.’ Dick grunts as he got to his feet, still smiling as he got stepped close to you. ‘If you were hellbent on leaving Gotham forever then you wouldn’t have dared tempt the idea of coming back.’

As much as you hated to admit it but he was right, you wouldn’t leave again and even if you did originally want out of Gotham, there was too much work that had to be done here then anywhere else. You were more pretty much done with the whole leaving thing as that didn’t necessarily work out, considering just how fast you abandoned your original plan just to came back to Gotham.

‘I hate it when you’re right.’ You murmured under your breath as Dick chuckles, happy to have you back home, back to him and picking up where you both left off as though nothing had ever happened.

‘So that being all the time, right?’ He asks as he slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you made a face. ‘You’d fucking like for that was the case don’t you.’ You scoffed as you looked at him, one to see him looking back at you with a soft look in his eyes, which was something new even for you seeing as yours and Dick’s relationship consisted of witty back and forth and making lightheartedly fun out of each other.

‘Only if you stay long enough to admit it.’ He says without an ounce of his usual teasing as a silence befell you both as you stared at one another, wondering where life was going to take you now you were back in Gotham.

Jason

‘I was rooting for you to stay away.’ He said upon seeing you kick one of Penguin’s goons in the head.

You shrugged. ‘Hate to disappoint but the grass wasn’t greener on the other side.’ You told him, kicking the goon’s switchblade over the rooftop and into the streets below when noticing his hand itching towards it.

‘It must’ve been at least somewhat greener considering how long you stayed there before coming home.’ Jason sassed, joining in by kicking the goon in the ribs for good measure and you groaned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still pissed at me for leaving are you?’

Jason scoffs. ‘Noooo, why would I be possibly mad at the fact that you had done it. You managed to escape Gotham and instead of staying out of Gotham and building yourself a future where coming back wasn’t an option, you came back?! Why?! What made you think that was a smart idea?!’ He exclaims and you dropped low to perform a sweeping kick to his feet -taking advantage of his irritation- knocking him flat on his back, grabbing the lapels of his brown jacket.

‘For you DUMBASS! I came back to Gotham for you! I wasn’t about to let you rot in this shit hole without at least knowing someone gave a shit about you! Is that such a fucking hard concept to grasp?!’ You yelled at him but just before you let go of his jacket, Jason was quick to catch your wrists in one of his hands and managed to pin you to the floor as he hovered over you. ‘I don’t believe I ever once asked you to do anything for me, other than staying out of Gotham once you found an outing for yourself.’ He said in a low voice.

‘You didn’t need to.’ You told him, easily envisioning the look of frustration Jason must have on his face under the red helmet. ‘That’s was all my own doing and I don’t regret any of it.’ You grunted. ‘Not even a little. I couldn’t afford to build a future out there because there was no future for me to build when I knew I had a better chance of doing that here with you than anywhere else.’

Jason sighed, ‘you’re insufferable.’ He huffed before letting you of your wrists and standing up to his feet as he holds a hand out to you to take.

‘And you’re still a dickhead.’ You retorted smiling as you eagerly grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull you up to your feet before bringing you into his arms, holding you tightly where you melted into his body warmth.

‘Your dickhead you mean.’ He murmurs against your head.

‘yeah, my dickhead.’ You smile, knowing that evening was going to be okay from here on out.

Damian

‘I thought you skipped town.’ Damian said as he sheathed his sword.

‘You don’t sound surprised to see me.’ You replied, putting away your twin batons on your back.

Damian shrugs before looking over at you. ‘Why should I be surprised, I did say on the day you left that you’d come back home sooner or later.’ He reminds you as you both over looked the city you both once swore to protect. ‘No one leaves Gotham for long, this city has a way of pulling people back in whether they liked it or not.’

You clenched your fists at your side out of frustration because you knew that he was right, he was always right and you hated it because when you had gotten out of Gotham, it didn’t feel as though you were needed as much to protect the streets. It made you realised that being born and raised in Gotham and learning go hone the skills required to survive had became a vital part of you, a part of you that you couldn’t escape no matter has far away you go from the vile city and make a name for yourself elsewhere.

It ended up not working out and soon you found yourself going back to the place you swore you’d never go back to.

‘You didn’t miss me? Not once?’ You asked all of a sudden.

‘No. You were barely on my mind as I was busy clearing the streets you left behind.’ Damian said but even you could tell that he was lying to himself somewhat.

‘Are you sure I didn’t come to mind? Not even when you’re standing in the locations we regularly rendezvous for missions?’ You asked again.

Damian remains silent this time. Of course he missed you, there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t resent you for leaving Gotham, for leaving him behind when you both swore to keep Gotham safe together. Admittedly he hated you for a brief time after you left, he tried to burn every memory he had of you to prove that his hatred and resentment towards you was true, and not as an act of heartbreak and abandonment.

However Damian found himself unable to keep that facade up after three month anniversary of your departure, where found himself on the very rooftop he was now, and ironically it was the very same rooftop where you told him you were leaving Gotham indefinitely; looking up to the stars and wishing for your health and well-being whether you were.

‘No.’ Damian snipped, leaving you in a very similar to the way you had left him long ago, alone and conflicted with emotions.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

[literaila]

Gojo having a baby girl is literally driving me insane like how is that man a father HES THE BABY 😭

this is so true.

i know that man is pouting for the baby’s first year at least because, well, simply put—she’s taking all of his attention.

she’s the one who gets to sleep on you every day and night, she’s the one you’re making silly noises at, and she’s the one who you’re cooing over when satoru is standing there being as cute as he can possibly be!

is it so wrong to be jealous of his own daughter?

and yeah yeah, whatever. he knows that she’s a baby and she needs more codling than a (so called) adult man does, but still. he made her, shouldn’t she be on his side?

so he sits in the rocking chair while you put her in her crib, being careful not to wrap her too tight in the blankets. he’s watching you smile at her and basically fawn over a lump of flesh (yes, she is adorable, but that’s not the point).

seriously, she can’t even speak to you. she can’t tell you how beautifully you’re adapting to your newborn lifestyle, or how pretty you look with spit up on your shirt.

guess who can though? satoru.

not that you care, apparently.

so if he’s crossing his arms and frowning while he watches you be perfect for someone else, sue him.

“are you pouting again?”

“i’m not pouting.”

you finally look over to satoru, tilting your head. “you’ve got wrinkles from frowning so much.”

“what? no i don’t.”

you smile at him and walk over, immediately easing into the hands that wrap around your waist. even this close, satoru is still look at you begrudgingly. resentfully.

“are you seriously jealous of your own daughter?”

“i didn’t realize that you’d completely forget about me once she was born.”

“i haven’t—“

“am i just a pretty face to you? something nice to look at when you come home?”

you scoff. “okay, first of all, if anyone has a pretty face around here, it’s her—“

“this is what i’m talking about—“

“and second of all, yes. we’ve talked about this. you’re just my eye candy.”

he frowns. “your eye candy deserves more attention.”

“my eye candy is being awfully needy.”

“your eye candy misses you.”

you smile again, leaning against him. satoru tightens his hands around you, nuzzling his face into your stomach. you run a hand through his hair. “i miss you too”

“no you don’t,” he mumbles into your shirt.”

“i do!” you laugh, pulling on his hair so he’ll look at you. “but as long as you’re right here with me, i’m okay.”

“you’re just okay?” he asks, despairingly.

“having you here is enough for me, satoru.”

he groans, falling back into your skin.

you coo at him softly, giving him a makeshift hug.

“you’ve got a new baby,” he whispers, “i’m outdated.”

you snort. “you’ve always been outdated.”

satoru lifts his head up, pouting once again. “that’s mean.”

“sorry, baby,” you whisper, kissing his forehead. “i’ll check my schedule, see if i can pencil you in somewhere.”

“really?”

“i think im free in about… mmm, three to six months.”

he groans again.

“hey,” you whisper, trailing a finger down his perfect face.

“what?”

“i love you.”

he meets your eyes, and his lips twitch, knowing and just as fond. “are you sure?”

“are you jealous?” you retort.

he sighs. “i guess i can’t really blame you. she is cute.”

you turn in his arms, looking towards the crib once again. “isn’t she?”

and maybe satoru is a little bit jealous. but he’ll get over it. because, honestly, the tiny bundle in that crib is going to grow up—but he’ll always be your baby.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 16 (18+)

a/n: see, i didn't keep you waiting that long this time. thank you to @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter fifteen here ]

Chapter Sixteen: Of Cuffs and Chan

A wave of embarrassment washes over you—drenches you. You had intentions of being drenched tonight, just not like this. You feel the heat in you rising to your face as your eyes begin to prickle. Chan has now walked out of a room twice to get away from your advances. You have never presumed to be some expert level seductress, but him thwarting your attempts and leaving you alone with your thoughts feels soul crushing.

This was a terrible idea.

How could you have been so incredibly mistaken to think this would work? You have to get up, get out of this room. You hope Chan has at least left the hallway. You don’t want to see him when you leave. You can’t face him again tonight.

You try to blink away the tears, but a few fall down your cheek anyway. You look to the nightstand where you left the key, previously having hoped if he saw fit to uncuff you at some point he could because you obviously can’t do it yourself. You should have read the back of the packaging. It mentioned something about a safety release button. You sit up on the bed, angling your head to inspect the cuffs through your water-blurred gaze. There are enough chain links connecting the cuffs that you have a bit of slack to bring it closer to you.

The sound of the door opening again draws your attention away from the handcuff debacle. You want to be stubborn, to keep your eyes focused on the handcuffs and not turn to see who it is. You wouldn’t put it past him to send Hyunjin to take you away at this point. You’d be mortified for him to see you like this, cuffed and crying.

The door closes and your curiosity gets the best of you. You turn your head slightly and see that it’s Chan. His face is hardened, unreadable. Your heartbeat immediately quickens, but you’re not put at ease by his return.

You sit up straight, back against the headboard, arms hanging above your head and knees still pressed firmly together. You suddenly become aware of the tears on your face and avert your eyes to your knees. You don’t want him to see you like this. Why had you opted for the handcuffs? Now you can’t even wipe the stupid tears from your face.

You sniffle as his footsteps approach, stopping next to you. His room isn’t small by any means, but it feels so tiny now. His presence fills up every square inch. You silently plead with him to say something, anything to drown out the deafening sound of your loudly thumping heart.

You take a deep breath, trying to find all the courage that was within you moments ago as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You could be wrong, but there is a slight softness to his gaze. Hardly noticeable to an untrained eye.  

“If you uncuff me, I can leave,” you say quietly, jerking your head towards his nightstand where the key is. His eyes flit over to it, then back to you.

He remains silent as he takes a closer look at you, eyes roaming over your body. They linger on your exposed breasts before trailing down your lace covered torso and stop at your knees. He leans to the side, head tilted to peek at the gap between your legs. Without any underwear, your pussy is exposed. He lets out a puff of air at the sight.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks in a low voice.

From his reaction—coming back, staring at you like this, saying he doesn’t want you to leave…that must mean there’s still a chance. At this point, though, you don’t even know what you really want to use the chance for. To win the competition or just to let him have his way with you.

You rock your hips upwards once and his tongue snakes out, licking at the corner of his mouth. He stands up straight and takes a step forward so he’s standing right next to you.

He reaches out with his other hand, gently cupping your face and wiping away the tears on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head into his hand and close your eyes, submitting to his touch. You have the sudden urge to word vomit, to tell him how badly you want him, how much you’ve missed him, how you don’t care about the competition—he can fuck you and you won’t tell anyone. You’ll stay so, so quiet that no one will hear anything. You’ll tell everyone your plan failed just please, please don’t stop touching you.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says, “and look what you do to me, y/n.” He grips his growing bulge through his jeans.

You feel the tiniest bit of relief dousing your worries.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks.

You nod eagerly in response.

He grabs the key to the handcuffs from the nightstand and makes quick work of releasing one of your hands. He takes your free wrist in his hand and guides it to the top of his jeans. You fumble with the button, all anxious, excited and nervous at the same time, but eventually slip it through the hole. As you tug down on his zipper, he takes off his hoodie and tosses it to the ground.  

You cautiously slip your hand through the opening in his jeans and cup his dick in your hand. When you give a squeeze, his hand grabs your wrist again, stopping your movements. It was a short-lived freedom but you enjoyed it, nonetheless.

He raises your arm back above your head and slips your hand back into the cuff. He trails his fingers down your wrist, down your arm, down your neck, back and forth across your collarbone, then down some more. The trail he leaves behind makes you burn with desire—your nipples harden just from this light touch and you press your knees together even harder.

“This outfit? The handcuffs? Why?” He asks, stopping his hand just above your breast.

“To fully offer myself to you,” you say slowly. “To relinquish complete control.”

“Is that something you actually want to do?” He counters, hand still hovering above your breast. You want him to touch it so badly. “Or is it just to bring an end to the competition?”

“The first one,” you reply, squirming on the bed, yearning for his touch now that it’s so close to actually happening. “I want to do this with you, not for you or because of the challenge.”

And it’s the truth. In this moment you don’t give a damn about winning anything.

His hand skips over your breast. He brushes the back of his fingers along the lace covering your torso, up your thighs, over your knees, down your legs and you can’t keep still. He skirts around the off-limit areas, so you don’t know what he’s playing at.

His hand leaves you and goes to his pants. He pulls them down along with his boxers, kicking them both aside. At the sight of his cock springing out, you lick your lips in anticipation. It almost feels unreal. This is the closest you’ve been all month, and you want to touch it, taste it, clench around it while it’s inside of you.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks as he grips his cock in his left hand.

It sounds like a loaded question. What is he gonna do with you in this current predicament? Or in general?

“Whatever you want,” you say, licking your lips again, watching him hold his cock. How can he make you feel jealous of him? You want to be the one doing that. You want to touch and please every part of him you’ve been deprived of for weeks.

“Hmm,” he hums, stroking himself while he reaches out to caress your exposed skin again with his right hand—still steering clear of the forbidden zones. “I never really cared much about the competition, you know.”

“Chan,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from his cock and hand at work, desperate to take on the burden for him.

“Not about winning, anyways,” he continues, fingertips grazing across your body, “It’s more about keeping a firm line between me and my assignee. To make it clear that I don’t need them…don’t need you.”

You look up at him, trying to focus on what he’s saying rather than the way your body is aching for him.

“When this ends…it ends. And normally it’s not an issue,” his tone remains calm, almost warm, as he speaks. “But look at you, y/n.”

His hand finally lands on your breast, gripping it firmly in his palm, squeezing as it slips through his fingers until he has hold of just your nipple. He pinches it, twisting slightly. You gasp softly, arching your back.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he declares.

You could squeal, you could cry, you could fucking die of happiness from his admission. You open your mouth to speak, to beg, but he lets go of your nipple and rests his hand on your knee. He releases his cock and shakes his head.

“Are you trying to ruin me?”

A look of confusion takes over your features at the question. Why would he think that? If anything, you should be asking him that.

“No,” you shake your head, pure innocence radiating from you at the accusation. “I would never.”

His lip twitches and a smirk appears for a split second before he regains his composure. He’s in his element now, enjoying teasing you. His hand on your knee slides down the inside of your thigh, eyes locked on yours. Your body responds immediately, hips jerking as he moves closer and closer to your center.

“You make me feel like I’m going to lose it—go insane,” he says as his hand reaches your pussy. “Do you feel it too?”

He uses his pointer and ring finger to spread your lips apart, stroking between your folds with his middle.

It’s impossible to concentrate on what he’s saying when you finally have him touching you again. You certainly know what he’s done to make you feel like you’re losing it…but what have you done to him?

Before you have a chance to respond, he removes his hand. Without a word, he turns and walks to the bathroom. You watch him, wanting to scream for him to come back to you, to keep touching you.

He walks straight to shower and turns it on. He doesn’t even wait for the water to warm up before stepping in.

He’s going to leave you like this?

Of course he is.

You could find the release button on the handcuffs and leave, but you won’t. This is what he wants from you, and this is what you want to give. Your obedience. So, you stay put, sliding your legs against each other to create some kind of friction between them in the meantime.

You’re not sure how long passes before the water turns off. It doesn’t seem like he wanted to intentionally drag out his time in the shower. Your eyes are on him as soon as he steps out. You watch as he grabs a towel and dries off. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering if he’s going to put on clothes and just sleep with you here next to him like this. Now that you would not be in to. Or would you?

He starts walking towards you, naked, toned, fucking chiseled as he dries his hair. His cock is still hard, and you can only imagine what kind of scenarios were playing out in his head as he showered to keep it that way.  He stops at your side once again, his fresh and clean aroma filling your senses.

He hooks a finger under your chin, tilts your head up, then leans down to kiss you. Just a quick peck. His hand slides around to the back of your neck, lightly stroking the nape before pulling you forward. He grips his cock with his other hand and you part your lips, eager to take him in your mouth.

“Is this what you want?” he asks as he stops pulling you forward, gently wagging his cock in front of you. Like he’s teasing his pet with a treat.

“Yes. Please,” you reply, damn near salivating.

“Please what?”

He pushes his hips forward to close the distance, rubbing the tip of his dick from one side of your chin to the other, stopping just beneath the middle of your bottom lip.

“Please fuck my face, Chan.” You say, looking up at him.  

He pats your cheek and nods. To your surprise he then steps up onto the bed and stands directly over you, feet on either side of you. Now this is a fucking view.

“Open.”

You drop your jaw. Your range of motion is severely limited, being cuffed to the bed and all, so he takes it from there. You swirl your tongue around the tip as he slowly slides it in while groaning, then side to side along the bottom as he goes in further. You’ve missed the taste of him is all you can think.

He stops about two-thirds of the way in and you use the opportunity to take a deep breath, exhaling through your nose. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, gazing down at you as if he’s trying to save the image of your mouth stuffed with his cock to memory.

He pushes forward a little more then withdraws, moving faster each time he repeats the process. You bob your head forward, as much as you can, to meet his thrusts. You focus on keeping your jaw and throat relaxed, meanwhile you’re unable to control the sounds coming from your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, gripping your hair with one hand as he furiously fucks your face.

You don’t want to imagine how you look—deepthroating Chan, all the saliva that’s built up and spilling out of your mouth and around his dick. It doesn’t sound like a pretty sight, but he seems to enjoy it.

He starts grunting and groaning as he thrusts and suddenly pulls away from you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He releases your hair and steps back before getting on his knees, essentially straddling you, dick hovering just above your stomach. He rests his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. He must have just narrowly stopped himself from coming, is your guess.

“Chan,” you say his name softly.

He turns to look at you, raising a hand to wipe the dribble around your mouth.

“Hmmm?”

“Please touch me,” you try your best to sound like you’re not whining as you rub your legs together.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Here?” he asks, wrapping his hand around your neck, squeezing it.

You moan in response.

He leans forward to capture your lips, kissing you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth, greedily lapping up the taste of himself on you. You kiss him back, your head slowly following his lead, tilting from left to right as he does the same.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging on it as he pulls away from you. His eyes lock with your for a moment, feeling like less of a mystery than ever before, but you could just be delusional at this point.

He slides back on your legs and rearranges himself until he’s lying flat on his stomach. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and gets comfortable.  

“Incredible,” he says while looking at your pussy.

“Yeah?” You ask, uncertain.

“Fuck yes,” he replies with a curt nod.

He moves his face directly between your legs and takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He nuzzles your pussy with his nose, circling the outside of your lips. You tug on the restraints around your wrists, cursing yourself once more for choosing this particular set up. You want to run your fingers through his damp curls, over his broad shoulders, down his back. But you can’t do any of that.

All you can do is watch. In fucking awe at his uninhibited actions.

He slides his nose up your slit, making it glisten with your slick. You can’t help but shake your legs and thrust your hips forward. He lowers his head again, as if to repeat the same move, but this time his tongue slips out and follows his nose. He laps at you playfully, eliciting moans and silent pleas from you.

When he finally takes you in his mouth completely you gasp. He wastes no time then, licking, sucking, slurping your most sensitive parts. He readjusts himself to slide three fingers inside of you, eyes locked on yours as he does.

“So fucking tight,” he breathes.

You rest your head against the headboard and resist the urge to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t look away.

“You like my fingers inside of you, y/n?”

“I do,” you nod.

“Filling you up,” he continues, curling his fingers against your walls each time he withdraws. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Chan,” you say his name as a warning as your arch your back.

He stops talking and puts his mouth back to work. He keeps fucking you with his fingers while he sucks on your clit.

“I’m. Gonna. Come,” you manage to get out between panting.

He doesn’t acknowledge your statement; doesn’t make you ask for permission and you take that as a sign to let go. You rock your hips against his fingers and face as you come, biting your bottom lip to keep from being too loud but it doesn’t work. You don’t know what time it is or if anyone can hear.

Chan keeps at it until you start squirming your hips away from his touch.

He chuckles as he resurfaces, nose and mouth glistening. He takes his fingers out of you, spreading them apart and watching as your juices stretch between them. He reaches forward, offering them to you. You open your mouth to accept, circling your tongue around them clockwise, greedily cleaning each digit.

When he takes his fingers out, he sits up, positioning himself so the back of your thighs rest on the front of his, legs hanging on either side of him. His eyes dance across your body again, hands moving up to grip your breasts. He kneads them, pinching the nipple each time he gets to the top.

“Can I keep you here like this?” He asks teasingly, a playful glint in his eyes.

You don’t trust yourself to respond. You’d say yes, and you don’t know if he’s serious or not, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He says again to your silence.

“Fuck me,” you suggest.

He lets out a breath, trailing one hand down your torso, scratching at the fabric of your lingerie with his nails. His hands start moving you, turning you onto your side then once more until you’re on your stomach. The chain between the handcuffs become twisted, restricting your hand movements even further. He grips your hips and pulls you up until you’re on your knees. He holds you in this position, pressing himself against you and rocking his hips forward.

He leans down over you, his chest against your back and it’s so fucking warm. You close your eyes at the feeling of him covering you. His right hand releases your waist to prop a pillow up in front of you to lean against. It’s these little details that remind you and allow you to see how thoughtful he can be. Granted, it’s while he’s having his way with you, but on some level he’s still concerned with your comfort.

He kisses along your shoulder blades, to your neck and stops at your ear.

“Bite the pillow,” is his whispered command.

You shiver and hold onto the headboard for dear life. His right hand grips your shoulder while the other remains at your hip. You feel him shift around behind you until his dick is positioned right against your opening. He grips your shoulder as he enters you and a long, slow moan escapes your lips.

His hand on your shoulder moves to your neck, forcing you down towards the pillow.

“Bite,” he repeats.

You open your mouth and clamp your teeth around the pillow in front of you as Chan starts to relentlessly plow into you from behind.

The pillow serves its purpose, suppressing the loud sounds you’re making as he fucks you. He slams into you quick and fast at first, resting inside for a moment before pulling out and slamming right back in. Then he picks up the pace, thrusting in and out at his own rhythm, releasing your hip to slap your ass every so often before gripping it again to force you back against him.

Your face is contorted against the pillow, and you don’t even care that you’re drooling all over it with your mouth clamped around it.

“Can you come for me again?” He asks, reaching around with his hand to rub your clit between your legs.

The way Chan is making you feel is insurmountable. Pussy dripping, walls stretched with him inside of you. And it’s been so long. Too long. You give a nod and he pulls out all stops, the sound of your thighs smacking against each other echo throughout the room accompanied by your muffled moans.

Your pussy clenches around him as you come. You bend down even lower, arching your back and bouncing your hips against his as you do.

“Fuck yeah. Take it,” he groans. “Make it yours.”

Encouraged by his words you thrust back against him even harder, gripping onto the headboard for leverage. You lift your head and release the pillow from your mouth, tossing your hair back over your shoulder. Chan seizes the opportunity to grip your hair in his hands, forcing your head upwards as you keep fucking him.

He starts meeting your thrusts, one hand on your hip pulling you back against him with all his might. You feel him tense up behind you and he quickly withdraws. In an instant you feel his warm release coating your back. He groans with each spurt that pours out of him.

He smacks your ass once more for good measure before allowing you to collapse onto the bed—as much as you can with your hands still cuffed. He takes a foot off the bed and leans over to grab something before you feel him wiping his come off your back. He then grabs the key to the cuffs and unlocks each wrist. You twirl them around and stretch each finger once they’re free.

You didn’t know before how much you needed that. Needed him. You wonder, for a brief moment, if the closeness you shared will go away now. Will he stop talking to you and sharing things about his life now that he can just fuck you and call it a day again?

He splays out on the bed, laying on his back as he catches his breath.

“I lost,” he announces.

“Are you upset?” You ask, turning on your side to face him.

“Upset?” He repeats. “No…concerned? Maybe.”

You feel like you could ask him to explain that more and he would. But you don’t, you’re afraid of the answer. A part of you wants to remain in this delusion. Though the Fall semester is coming to an end, you still have the Spring semester to get through. You don’t want to acknowledge or even think about what the end of the school year will mean for the bonds you’ve built with Chan, Hyunjin, and the others.

Not right now.

You scooch over closer to him.

“Is this okay?” You ask—meaning, should I go back to my own bed?

He’s silent for a few seconds, but then his arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer.

“Do you want to take that off?” He asks, pulling at the strap of your lingerie.

“Are you tired of looking at it?”

“Nah,” he says. “You could wear that every fucking day and I wouldn’t get tired of seeing you in it. You look amazing.”

You’ve never heard so many compliments from him in one sitting. You snuggle up closer to him, hooking one leg over his. You stifle a yawn as your adrenaline levels return to normal, reminding you of the long weekend and even longer day you’ve had.

“Chan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chuckles loudly at that. The sound enters your ear against his chest and fills you with a foreign warmth. As much as you worry that his guard will go back up, you’re growing even more terrified of him bringing it down and letting you in.

On the 1st of December, Lee Know is crowned champion. He abstained—much to Allie’s chagrin. She swears she’ll never offer anal sex to him again since he wanted to be so stubborn.

The other members congratulate you with literal pats on the back and head as if you’ve accomplished something major. Chan seems to take it all in stride. He doesn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed that he lost in the slightest. He woke up the next morning and wrote his name on the board before you both headed to class together.

You, Charlotte, and Rhiannon have won your trips. Wherever you want to go. As you mull it over the next couple days, you decide to use it for winter break, knowing your parents won’t be home.

Lee Know also just so happens to be in charge of getting everything coordinated for you.

“You get to take one member,” he advises you, sitting next to you on the sofa as he absentmindedly scrolls through the TV channels.

“That I’m assigned to?”

“Any, really but���I guess it would be awkward if you took someone else.” He says with a smirk. “Is this your way of asking me to come with you?”

You arch an eyebrow before rolling your eyes. Though you’ve gotten even, you still haven’t forgiven him for teasing you.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then.” He shrugs. “Your loss. But I need to know the name of who you’re taking to book flights.”

“Hyunjin,” you say without missing a beat.

The thought of spending winter break on a warm, sunny beach sounds amazing. Did you just have an unforgettable night with Chan? Yes. But you want to enjoy your time on vacation and not be fraught with worry or second guessing everything you do. You know Hyunjin will put you at ease in every way possible.

“You might want to run that by him,” he replies. “I think he’s planning to go back to Seoul.”

You rack your brain for any conversation you’ve had with him recently where it was mentioned but can’t come up with any. The boy hates making plans so much he can’t even remember when he actually has them. He’s lucky he’s so fucking adorable.

“What if they both are? Can I go alone?”

“This trip is funded by our allowances,” he explains, “You have to go with one of us. Maybe choose different dates?”

You scrunch up your face at the thought. You had your heart set on this impromptu Christmas vacation.

“Talk to Hyunjin and Chan, then let me know.”

You nod and stand from the couch.

“Y/N?” He calls out to you as you start to walk away. You turn back around to face him. “Tread lightly.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Chan has never lost this competition before and I don’t know what’s going on between you two but…there’s only one way for this to end.”

“And how is that?”

“With you on your own,” he shrugs. “Chan, Hyunjin—none of us can have any contact with you after the school year is over. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. Especially Chan.”

You’re puzzled at his frankness. Lee Know cares? About anything? But also, you don’t think Chan is capable of hurting. He can be wounded, sure, and lash out. But hurt? Like, actually feel feelings? And because of you? No way.

But as you think back to the night you got him to break…maybe his façade is failing him. Maybe his walls are coming down. Well, fuck. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now you’re not sure if it’s such a good idea or not. You have no doubt he’ll do what he’s supposed to when this is all over—leave you. But what will you do? Can you move on from both him and Hyunjin without ever looking back?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tell him before turning back around and walking towards the stairs.

Yes, you will keep it in mind. In the furthest, deepest corner of your mind. Right now, you want to focus on enjoying the time you have left with both of them.

a/n: a lot to unpack there. hope you enjoyed! like, comment & reblog to show your support. i am working on the next chapter already, however next week i'm having all the carpet in my house replaced with wood flooring and am not sure how much time i'll have to write with all that chaos going on.

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @bangtancultsposts / @jenniferlr / @hynxnelly / @kpop-kink / @okkkcausewhet /

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bangchan fanfic #bang chan #skz smut #bang chan imagines #the skz house #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #skz x reader #stray kids smut #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz imagines

[firemenenthusiast]

"WAIT THIS IS- WAIT we should get farleigh to fuck reader thinking he’ll get anything he wants, the whole sexgod privilege just cuz youre the one who asked for it but when hes about to cum you go “oh no no”. but farleigh turns into goo under your orders so"

OK SO I HAVE AN IDEA!! their academic rivals and have a bet going on that he gets to fuck you if he got a higher score on a test or smth?!?!? IDK I JUST HAVE A THING FOR ENEMIES FUCKING 😞😞 SUE ME

the day hath come. thank you for your request anon ! <3

—“me or you”

academic rival! farleigh start! x fem!reader

summary: when farleigh decided that your rivalry isn’t fun enough for him, he proposes a deal

warnings: 18+, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, smut in the second half of it, sub!farleigh, porn with plot, unprotected p in v (wrap it guys), sub! farleigh, soft dom! reader, size kink, whiny whimpery farleigh, praise kink, cunnilingus, blow job, teabagging, creampie, plot twist and fluff at the end

a/n: sorry if i took too long, enjoy !

academic validation is everything to you. you believe you’re nothing if not an overachiever. but for farleigh, it’s just an excuse for him to be contemptous towards you. everyone else in the class is obviously displeased with your feud with him, but it’s mostly just farleigh spewing vulgar insults at you. that’s just how he presents himself. you could go and ask around the campus about him-

most would comment on his attitude that he thinks he could get away with- just because he’s smart. academically smart. no one knows how he does it. its not like he spends his afternoons in the library or catching up on his studies in his free time. hell, he does the exact opposite of those things. the term party animal is a downgrade for him. the owner of the nearest pub knows him. the most elite parties on campus are known to be thrown by him.

weirdly enough, when it comes to tests and exams, he excels them like nobody else. whatever he has to do for the class doesn’t faze him. you’re pretty confident that he doesn’t even study yet somehow, he’s at the top of his class. you on the other hand, put a lot of effort to achieve your exceptionally high scores. seeing farleigh being absent for most of his class pains you, it reminds you of how bad you have to struggle while he get to trash himself. enjoy the uni life. what irks you even more is the fact that everytime he scores higher than you, he’ll make sure to flaunt it all over your face. every single time. you roll your eyes when you spot the dark curly headed figure towering almost everyone across the hall, a couple books in his hand. how pretentious. it’s not like he even reads them.

flashing a quick smirk towards you, he swiftly skips to get in front to hold the lecture hall door open. he gave everyone else before you a small smile, trying to convince them of the pure intention of his nice little gesture. “goodluck guys” his head tilted upwards for a bit, nodding at each of the students. you cant help but crack a little smile watching the boy. as you were about to step into the hall, he swings the door closed behind him.

“what the fuck ?” you blurt out, head tilted trying to look at him. “goodluck” he grins, eyebrows raised with a smug look on his face. “for the test” he continues. “for what else dumbass?” insufferable, you think. he winces mockingly at your words

the test. the one that is particularly of the toughest subject out of your course. one that you had studied your ass off for. one that farleigh couldn’t give a single fuck about and still gonna ace it. gifted son of a bitch. and you’re gonna have to sit through him making fun of you for the 2 marks difference. it’s been like this for a couple semesters now. you struggling to keep your scores high, while farleigh tease you about it. just because you give him a challenge for the top position everytime there’s a test. the first semester of the course, he scored the best in the class for the first assessment. that gave him extra unneeded ego for the next couple weeks until you beat him in other tests after. he’d acknowledged you since. he loves a pretty face that challenges him.

“yes whatever farleigh now move” you try to pay no attention to him, reaching out to pull the door yourself. he quickly adjusts his stance against the door “okay! okay-”his arms reach out to his sides, protecting the entrance.

“-i have a proposition for you”

“i dont have time for this farleigh” you really dont, the tests starting anytime now.

“hear me out first”. one of his arm is held up to convince you. you sigh, the most uninterested expression staring back at him. “you know how you always excel these tests and i always do better than you-?”. “if youre keeping me here just to ridicule me save it for after the test” you begin to move before he continues

“—so you admit i always do better ? i mean, who’s keeping the score anyways” he chuckles. your patience is getting thin. before you could move again he steps closer, towering over you. hot breath fanning over your face as he grabs your arm.

“why dont we make it more fun ?” he begins, emphasizing the last part, almost whispering into your ear. “if you score better, you get all the bragging rights and mocking pass until the next test” you begin to soften your expression, intrigued. you look up at him, eyes searching into his. he stares into you before leaning down to continue

“—and if i score better, i get to fuck you”

you ball your palms into fists at his stupid idea before shoving him to the side and storming into the lecture hall. your jaws clenching with your lips pursed shut. he’s getting out of hand if he thinks you’re just another bet felix can set him up upon. you hear him follow you before he settles in a seat rows away from you. you glance at him to see he’s already looking at you, grinning.

as you’re finishing up the final answers and re-checking the paper you’re brought back to farleigh’s proposition earlier. somehow you’re fueled with a newfound confidence that you’re gonna beat him. the test wasn’t that bad, you studied and all and there wasn’t any questions that you didn’t answer confidently. suddenly those bragging rights sound tempting. usually when you score higher than him you’d just keep it to yourself cuz whenever you do try to belittle him how he does you, he’s quicker with sharp insults that leaves you dumbfounded. a classmate once tried standing up for you after one of his rude remarks and got a disgusted look from him in return. his exact words were “who are you again ?” so you decided long ago not to indulge in his childish behaviour. but you’re getting sick of him. at this point you’d do anything to shut the raging ego of his. even if it means risking yourself

the loud sound of papers rustling and the creaking of the hall’s seats marks the end of the test, everyone’s getting up and walking towards the exit. you found yourself pushed into a corner by the crowd that seems to be chasing a leaving train. there’s no opening for you to squeeze yourself in so you decide to wait until they’re all gone. suddenly the crowd stopped and you feel a hand pulling you forward, safely getting you out of the exit with his body close behind yours. he brings you further to the nearest turn, making sure you’re out of the crowd. you look up at him, knowing it was him. you shoot him a serious look before saying,

“deal”

“wait-“ he scoffs in disbelief “really ?” he has a whole confused, disbelief look on his face. “yeah, there’s no way you’re gonna score higher, you’ve been doing what, coke all week ?” you say. “true, but i’ll come by. i always do” he shrugs before saying, “no take backs” you give him a small smile before starting to walk away. “you should smile more baby !” you hear him say from afar. his usual smug look entering your mind

the rest of next week is filled with him trying to get you flustered and nervous waiting for the result. there’s no actual reason for you to be this nervous, he’s got no chance against you this time. every class with him feels a lot longer than usual as he teases you about the deal every chance he could. telling jokes that centers you being smarter than him to the whole class got you rethinking about your decision. while you’re confident, he seems to be composed. in the class of the subject you guys had the test for, there’s a time when the professor brought up that the paper will be returned next week and you cant help but glance at farleigh. he smiles before bringing up a peace sign to his mouth, his tongue darting forward between his fingers before moving it in a licking motion. he chuckles at your reaction as you roll your eyes

your professor offers a smile to your classmate reaching her hand out to take the paper from him. “good job, keep it up” he steps down from the last flight of stairs with his hands clasped together. “congratulations to all of you regardless of your scores, theres still time and room for improvement so keep your chin up” he positively encouraged before dismissing the class. you look down at the paper in your hands, a proud smile forcing itself onto your lips as you beam at the circled number in red at the top of it. a whopping 98 for the toughest subject you’ve ever took. satisfied is the least you’re feeling right now as the familiar busy sound of students getting ready to hit the exit floods your ears, you hear the professor calling a name. “farleigh ? please see me after class” your eyebrows furrowed seeing him mouth a “yea” while picking up his books. thats the most plain you’ve ever seen him. no smug look thrown towards you either.

from his expressions you could assume that maybe he’s dissatisfied with his score but just how bad can it be ? knowing him he could’ve taken the test drunk and still be able to score atleast an A. your eyes follow him walking towards the exit, his messenger hanging low against his hips. you were waiting for some officialization from him, saying that you won, and that you get to mock him all you want yet you’re left with nothing. i mean, you certainly won right ? he could only beat you if he scored 99 or a 100. maybe you’ll try him tomorrow.

rubbing your eyebrows, your eyes scan the lesson material that you had just printed out for today. words stacked above another forming a paragraph that you’re hoping to find the point of. sound of footsteps entering fills the class when you feel someone tapping at the back of your seat. you turn your head back and to the front again to see farleigh walking past slowly to say, “your clock starts now nerd, next tests on the second week next month” as he points his finger at you

“heard you got a new daddy farleigh, got him to up your score ?” you’re near yelling at him who’s getting away. he pays you no attention as he flips you off. a smile appears on your face. no nasty remarks in return. so it begins. for the rest of the class you get to shut his sarcastic jokes with your own. the class is suprised to say the least that farleigh is the receiving end now. something must’ve happened they think, and most have their money on that you guys fucked. you shrug at your efforts on utitilising the mockery pass. you’d manage to catch him after class just to offer him another teasing “you know i can tutor you if you want. a one on one so maybe you can retire from being a boytoy” you beam at him. he gives you an unamused look, lips shut to hold himself from shooting a response to the joke. “maybe you should” he says, raising both his arms to quickly drop them before turning his heels and walking away. you watch him strut down the hall with a grin plastered across your face. until something hits you that the grin slowly wears off. you feel empty that he’s not shooting sarcasms back at you. you get it that this will only last until the next test and it’s part of the deal but you cant help feeling like, ‘this is it ?’. suddenly a part of you think that it would be better if he responded back. you’re used to that. you want him to banter.

so when you end up standing infront of his door you have no one else to blame but yourself.

you had asked students around the dorm halls and they all pointed to this door. sighing, you try to justify yourself for whats about to happen. “what are you doing here ?” you lower the knuckles that were about to knock, heels automatically turning to the source of the voice. he quirks an eyebrow at seeing you infront of his dorm. unfamiliar with the image cuz he’s never seen you around the building. “what are YOU doing here” youre quick to answer before realising how stupid it is. “i kinda need to be here. i live in the room just behind you” you scoff at his answer. he squints his eyes before saying, “wow, youre determined”.

“what ?”

“you came all the way here to brag about the test ?—”

“no” you stop him before continuing, “its weird that you didnt return any of my insults today” you begin. he slows down his steps, pacing around before stopping infront of you. he examines the knitted material of your cardigan, his eyes trailing to find yours. “well for one, they’re mediocre at best-“ you scoff before lightly shoving him, “fuck you”. he shrugs, eyes wandering across the hall before continuing, “—and its part of the deal sweetheart” you look down at your shoes, nodding slightly. exactly, that was the deal, you admit to yourself, ignoring the pet name. you take a deep breath as he runs his hand across the back of his neck, carefully adjusting the stray curls at the side of his head. “well if you dont have anything else, im just gonna-“ his hand moves to the side of you to grab the doorknob.

you look up at him, searching into his eyes before he notices. “unless youre here for that tutoring-“ you grab at the fabric on his chest, pulling him against you before crashing your lips onto his dark red ones. kissing at his bottom lip, he returns the kiss deeper, nose bumping against each other. he pulls away slightly, puffing hot breath before pulling you closer by your lower back. his forehead rests against yours as his mouth chases your lips, returning a deeper and more eager kiss. his hands resting low at your hips as his impatient kiss pushes you back against the door. you pull away for a moment to catch your breath when a small whine escapes his lips, his eyes still closed. he’s leaning forward trying to catch your lips to which you lean into once more. his hand move from your waist to the doorknob, twisting it before catching you from falling backwards. next thing you know you’re placed on his strangely clear study with him leaving sloppy kisses down your stomach, moving towards your clothed pussy. your cardigan and shorts lying on the floor

he looks at you through his long lashes, his large hands sprawled over your hips, smoothing over the skin. “may i ?” you nearly moan at his low voice. you nod as he mouths at your clothed cunt, nose nudging against your clit, panties almost transluscent with your wetness. you let out a breathy moan as he peppers small kisses all over the thighs caging him, slowly biting at the skin. he trails kisses until he reaches where you want him the most before pushing your panties to the side. his breath hitched as he does so, timidly licking your wet folds to have a taste. you hear him moan, your hands running through his hair to pull back the parts covering his face so you can watch him sucking at your sex. his eyes shut close savouring your taste as you hear him mumble against your folds, sending shivers down your spine. “mhm- s’good…so pretty” his hands roam from the low of your back to your stomach before trailing down to rub your clit. he pulls away for a moment to run his thumb between your folds, eyes dark as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. his bottom lip between his teeth. he dives back in with half lidded eyes before laying his tongue flat against your folds. you let out a small moan as you pull at his hair, earning a groan from him. you could feel the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter.

you push him from your pussy before getting off of his study. he follows you, getting up from the floor, cock painfully hard in his sweats forming a tent with a dark patch at the top. you curse in your head seeing the view before pushing him down onto his bed. he scoots back to lean against the wall as you climb onto his lap, pulling your shirt off you. his eyes trail downwards to look at your hardened nipples, his eyes darkened with a full blown lust before reaching up to knead at them. he kisses your nipples before putting them in his hot mouth at which you arch your back slightly, your hands pushing him forwards from the back of his head. you start to grind at his hard clothed cock as you feel the wet patch you saw earlier. he moans loudly at you grinding down especially harder on the base of his cock, sitting on his balls. steadying yourself, you grab his shoulders as you lean in to nip at his earlobes. his hand moves to grab at your hips as you rub your wet panties against his bulge while kissing at his neck, slightly biting and sucking at the skin, leaving marks. he whimpers with a slight pout when you start to slow down

“please,,”

“please what farleigh ?”

“anything- fuck! please,, take it off”

you smile at his pleas, continuing to grind on his cock, the wet patch at his tip getting bigger, spreading to the base of his cock. you arch your back slightly while moving, placing your tits at his mouth which he latches on obediently. his cock twitches as he bucks his hips upwards from the pressure. he pulls away to rest his head on your chest, head tilted downwards to watch your pussy getting his sweats wetter before throwing his head back with a long moan. “feels- feel so good- wan’ you faster” he starts stuttering words between begging you to go faster and to go slower, confused to decide what he actually wants. “does this feel good farleigh ?” you grind faster as he nods rapidly in return “dont stop- fuck, please dont stop” you could feel his cock jumping slightly and twitching, threatening to spill his load in his pants before you do just what he tells you not to. “no- baby,,” he throws his head back, strained whimper escapes his lips in defeat as you giggle. his knee buckles up involuntarily. you get off his lap, removing his hands from your hips to settle on the floor, tits pressed against the edge of the bed.

you look up at him who has the back of his hand pressed against his forehead as you graze your fingers on the outline of his cock, now completely wet with his precum and your wetness. your touches making him buck his hips, his eyes shut close as he throws his head back. you pull at his waistband slowly, pressing it down so it grazes along his achingly hard cock, earning a wince from him. “slow- slower, please,,” his hand reach yours trying to get you to be careful. you nod at him giving him what he wants, not wanting him to cum just yet. as soon as the waistband’s off his thick hard cock springs upwards, slapping his lower stomach. he’s thick, and it curves slightly upwards. placing your hand at the base, you’re suprised to see the size of him. batting your lashes at him with his cock in your hand, he gives you a smug smile

“big?”

“—average” you respond, receiving a chuckle from him

he’s the biggest you’ve had.

you swipe your thumb across his tip, collecting the precum to spread on his cock. switching hands, you begin to pump his length, your fingers barely closing around his cock. you reach down your panties with your free hand to collect your wetness before using it as lube to stroke his cock. “fuck that’s so hot-” you hear him say before letting out a loud moan when you suddenly start sucking at his tip. maintaining eye contact through your lashes, you make sure to make him watch you lay your tongue flat at the base of his length, slowly dragging it upwards. you have both your hands and your mouth working on the aching tip, slobbering his cock with your wetness, saliva and precum. stroking his cock at a steady pace you adjust your position to arch downwards, your mouth leaning into the base of his cock to lick under his balls. “ah— fuck-! mhm“ his hand fisting the sheets under him, chest heaving breathlessly. he let out a whine when you put his balls into your mouth, the warmth sending him into pure bliss. sucking at the skin, you make sure to twist at his raging red tip as you do so. you pull off with a pop to collect saliva in your mouth before spitting on his balls. just as the spit starting to trickle down you catch it with your mouth to bring it to his length. he tries to contain his moan by pursing his lips yet a weak whimper leaves his lips. he shoots you a puppy look as you continue sucking him off. you can feel his already tight balls getting tighter as his cock jumps against his lower stomach. he’s painfully hard to the point that one more lick and he’ll be cumming.

so you stop working on his cock to get on your feet. his eyes filled with tears threatening to spill down his tinted cheeks. his pretty long lashes wet from the tears pooling in his eyes, making them glossy. he looks up at you, your knees pressing against his bed before you climb onto him, your hands reaching his face to cup his cheeks. the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall trickles down as you wipe them with your thumb. “you wanna cum farleigh ?” you ask. “yes please” “you dont look it” he blinks to clear his eyes from tears, “i want to, please- let me cum please” his hands slowly creep up your body to pull you close in his embrace. his eyes pleads into yours before you pull his head towards you letting him rest on your breast. “okay” you promise. he takes the chance to mouth at your tits. throwing your head back, you feel him suck at one of your nipple and squeezing the other with his large hand making you moan. you pull at his hair to look at him, he offers you a soft smile. probably too delirious from the pleasure to even think.

you pull him off you to quickly get off the bed, taking off your wet panties before climbing back holding it. you lean down to kiss him, his head tilted upwards to return your kiss. his sucks at your tongue until he feels your lips being replaced by a wet fabric. he moans realising that you had stuffed his mouth with your panties, aiming the wet patch directly onto his tongue before kissing the top of his head. he always has his free hands to take out the panties if he wants to. he looks down at his hard weeping cock just inches away from your pussy. he buckles his hips forward in a pathetic attempt to rub his cock against your pussy. you giggle at his action before steadying your hands on hus shoulder, looking down as you lower yourself on his cock, rubbing the tip against your clit and the length between your folds. you hear him make some mumbled sound before you pull out the panties from his mouth. strings of saliva connected to the fabric as he puffs out, catching his breath.

“just fuck me,, cant anymore-“

“you cant ?” he shakes his head

“but i thought you’re the mighty farleigh start ?” you tease him. he swallows his saliva at your words.

“not with you, no- please, just make me cum baby” the tip of his nose dusted red, his lips swollen and redder than ever. his eyes glossy with some of the remaining tears at the corner of his eyes, searching into yours as he pleads

you finally give in, grabbing his cock to position it at your sex earning a loud guttural moan from him. you let out a high pitched whine from the stretch, the slide of his cock into your pussy easy thanks to all the wetness from before. you move back and forth, grinding your clit against his pelvis before starting to ride his cock. he bites his bottom lip watching you bounce on his length, fucking yourself. the pace of your hips steady with his hands grabbing at them to guide you. farleigh throws his head back from the pleasure, his mouth hanging agape. you feel the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter, feeling waves threatening to crash down. “you close ?” he asks as he feels your pussy clench around him making it harder for him to hold back. you nod at him, trying to focus on chasing your orgasm. you feel him suddenly buckle his hips into you before you let out a high pitched moan, screaming his name. he helps you ride out your high before you hear a string of curses falling from his lips, his thrust getting sloppy. “inside, farleigh”. he looks at you to make sure he heard you right as you nod at him. you let him move your hips as he wants, using you like a fleshlight before you hear him let out a loud moan. “ah-ahh—! fuck, fuck, fuck- fuuuck,,”. the curses falling from his lips gets dragged out as you feel warm ropes of thick cum shooting inside your pussy, hitting your cervix.

he struggles to catch his breath as he carefully gets you off his lap, placing your head on his pillow before joining you. sighing, his eyes blown wife while looking up at the ceiling. he props himself on his elbow to look at you, admiring your glow. you cant help but slowly let out a laugh at what the two of you just did. he shakes his head low, also laughing before leaning down to kiss you. the kiss is more passionate and sensual, unlike before. he crawls down to look at your pussy, his cum trickling down to his sheets before he wastes no time collecting and pushing them back into you. “all good” he informs before climbing back to lie beside you as you two finish catching your breaths.

you look around, scanning his room before turning your head to look at his bedside table. you notice a familiar paper, slightly crumpled. propping yourself on your elbow, you take a closer look at it. it’s the test that makes your deal, with a circled score in red at the top of it. a 62. you quickly turn to him, he’s already looking at you, a cig in his hand and a lighter in another, ready to light it. he looks at the paper in your hand and raises his eyebrow

“what ?”

“a 62, farleigh ? seriously ?”

“yeah i purposely put the wrong answers, atleast for some part of it”

he answers you, unbothered. he purses his lips around the cig, almost lighting it as he notices that you’re still waiting for some sort of explanation. he sighs before letting his head fall back onto the pillow

“i wanted you to win” he admits. your eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused

“so you can atleast see some good in me, when im not bullying you” to which you respond,

“you could’ve just stop insulting me like a normal person”

“but then everyone will realise that i was falling for you”

your face softens at his words. his eyes roam across the ceiling, trying to avoid your eyes before he continues, “—everyone knows i dont just ‘fall’ for people” you search his face for some sort of indicator that he’s trolling you but to no avail. you both sit in silence for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. his hands reach up to your face, pushing the hair covering the side of your face away. your hand reach up to cup his face, deepening the kiss. you pull away smiling at him to which he rolls his eyes playfully.“great now you have something to tease me about”. “i like you too farleigh” you quickly cut him. he cant help the smile creeping on his face. you both continue to sit in silence drinking in each others presence.

“study date ?” you suggest

“i dont study, sweetheart”

taglist: @june-ebgert @radioloom @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @themoonchildwhofell @love-me-pls

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[starwarsbian]

feels better like this (high!spencer)

gif by @imagining-in-the-margins

NSFW 18+ minors DNI

your pretty boyfriend, spencer, tries smoking weed for the first time and it ends in whining and shaking hands

wc: 5.6k (whoops)

a/n: idc that some of this is cliche if you don't like it look away

cw: weed, intoxicated sex, p in v, oral (f! receiving), thigh fucking, unprotected sex, established relationship, praise

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

laughing as you unlock the door to your shared apartment, spencer puts his hand on your lower back and follows you inside. you’re both dressed for hotch’s birthday party, which he really didn’t want.

you have on a light blue dress, made of shiny satin. it’s a midi dress, which isn’t really normal for you. you’re more of a pants kind of person, but spencer has been telling you how beautiful you look all night. he’s wearing tan slacks and a button-down that’s a similar color to what you have on.

with his hand still on the small of your back, spencer pulls you in for a kiss; it’s soft and slow. you both smile into it as you pull away, he smells like his cologne.

“i need to change, i’ll be right back,” you say and walk towards your shared bedroom. you decide on a star wars t-shirt of spencer’s and blue plaid pajama pants that are also his. spencer doesn’t mind at all when you wear his clothes.

going to the kitchen, you find spencer leaning against the counter with a glass of water. he smiles and raises his eyebrows when he sees what you have on.

“you look..really good in my clothes,” he replies.

he does the same thing you did, goes to change clothes. when he comes back he has a black t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants.

“you also look really good in your clothes, just so you know.” he laughs at your comment and follows you to your living room. “is it okay if i smoke, spence?”

“oh, yeah! for sure,” he says and kisses your head. your smoking stuff is casually sitting on the end table on the left side of your couch. your grinder is already full from earlier and you take the bowl off your bong to pack. spencer looks at you, his eyes soft and filled with admiration for you. you put the full bowl onto your clean bong that you cleaned earlier in the day. you've been smoking around spencer the whole time you've been together; you used to hide the frequency though, for fear he would thinnk its too much and not like you anymore before. spencer didn't care how often you smoked he just wants you to be who you want to be without regard to what other people think. he's never, not once, to participate in the action but you had assumed it was because he wasn't interested. I mean, the whole team has heard his whole "six minutes are taken off your life per cigarette" ramble. you wonder if he knows statistics like that about smoking weed.

you look towards him and try to decode his thoughts as he’s watching you. “do..do you want to try?” you ask.

“oh..i’ve never..,” he says shyly with blood rushing to his face with a tiny bit of embarrassment. he really feels like he should have already done this at 26.

“really? you spent so much time like, in college. long enough for three doctorates and you’ve never smoked weed?”

he shakes his head and looks at you. he's really hoping you're not going to make fun of him. its never been that he didn't want to or he thought badly of people who did smoke.

“yes, really. no one ever offered, honestly. which i understand, i mean i definitely didn’t look like i’d say yes. i also didn’t really ‘hangout’ with anyone who smoked. what about me says i was friends with the 'cool kids?'"

“i guess i never really thought about it. but i cleaned the bong earlier. so it’s not gross or anything, do you want to try it? with me? i’ll be nice, i promise. i assumed you’d already tried and didn’t like it.”

“yeah. i’ll try but i don’t really know what i’m doing.” he feels relief that you didn't say anything mean or do anything but ask a genuine question.

“you’ve seen me do this dozens of times at this point. but watch me again now and i’ll help you for your turn.”

he nods and watches as you light the lighter and tuck your hair behind your ear. you light the bowl and pull smoke into the chamber, you lift the bowl out to inhale. you smile at spencer during your exhale.

“do that again. you’re pretty..show me again.”

you do as he says but a little slower so he can see each step, very simple steps. he studies you closely and is identifying the mechanics of how it works, its obviously not complicated but he feels better knowing what should happen.

“here. your turn. do you want me to light it for you? that’s not an uncommon thing for someone’s first time.”

he smiles, again. “yeah..that’d be nice, i think.” you hand him the piece and he puts his pretty lips in the top just as you did and looks up at you with his gorgeous eyes. you light the bowl and watch as your boyfriend takes his first hit. you make sure to stop him quickly so he doesn’t take too much and choke. he exhales and looks at you with watery eyes.

“oh, god that burns,” he says and turns away from you to cough a few times. you hurry to get him his water and bring it to him. you don't laugh at him at all because you know the feeling of embarrassment of something laughing at you after the burning pain in your lungs.

“here, take a drink. i know it burns, im sorry. it is hot smoke though.” that makes him laugh, again, with the bong in your hands again you take your turn and look at him with a questioning look afterward as you offer it to him again, eyebrows rising in surprise when he nods and takes it from your hands.

“want me to light it for you again, baby?”

“yes, please.”

you repeat this process but this time he handles it much better and manages to exhale smoothly before calmly taking another drink of water. it soothes the burning in his throat but his eyes still water. “again?” you ask him. spencer nods and puts his mouth back in position to hit the bong again.

your pretty boyfriend take a little baby hit before grinning and passing the bong to you. the bowl is cashed so you empty it and pause to ask spencer if he’d like to pack it. you think it’d be cute to watch him get kinda the whole experience. you’re not going to let him smoke more than 1 or 2 more hits. at least until he has a few moments to feel his reaction. you're honestly scared he's going to freak out and not enjoy himself at all but so far he just seems happy, giddy even.

“you wanna pack it, spence? it really isn’t my favorite thing to do. and obviously it’s easy, here, take this.”

his hands shake a little with what you assume must be nervousness about messing something up. “spencer, you’re not going to do anything wrong? go ahead, baby. just put the flower in there for me and put in place.”

he does it exactly what you say; he didn’t spill anything and looks at you for approval. you give him a big smile and observe him place the bowl back where it belongs.

it’s your turn and you feel spencer’s hand on your thigh as you inhale and exhale. you repeat while spencer looks at you, mesmerized. he looks at you like you put all of the stars in the sky and for him you might as well have. he's never felt so comfortable with someone before.

“your turn, again. try to light it yourself, yeah?”

“okay,” he says before accepting the lighter you’ve offered him. he does it all by himself, perfectly, of course. he does everything perfectly. you nod for him to do it again. he coughs after this one and to make him feel better you make yourself a little uncomfortable with your next hit so you cough too. by the time you’re done hacking, spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your thigh.

“i do believe, im high now,” he tells you and then asks, “are you done? i like watching you, even coughing. your eyes look beautiful right now, actually.”

you shake your head no and spencer turns his attention to the TV for a little while as you finish up. his hand is spread out on your thigh now, moving up and down. his touch makes your stomach do flips and crave more.

you put the bong down and turn to face him. “will you kiss me, spencer?” the unfamiliar feeling is fogging up his mind a little so he doesn’t hesitate for a second before pressing your lips together.

the kiss is needy and spencer feels like you’re touching him everywhere but he wants more anyway. you crawl onto his lap and sit down, pushing him back against the couch. your hands are in his hair as you tug just a little. spencer lets out a small moan into your kiss and leans his head back, allowing you access to his neck.

filled with delight you start to kiss below his jaw and move down his neck. usually spencer is worried about you leaving marks on his throat because of work. but when you switch to the other side and start sucking on his flesh to mark him as yours he doesn’t protest. he does the exact opposite of protest and groans as he grabs your hips. spencer doesn’t curse very often but right now he’s letting a quiet slur of stuttering “fuck”s out of his mouth even though he’s biting his lip to try not to. spencer can usually contain himself and insists he reacts "appropriately" tou your touch. you move back to his lips and soon your tongue is moving slow against his. after a few moments he pulls away to catch his breath.

“being touched by you feels so good right now..i.. don’t even know what to do with myself,” he whispers in the crook of your neck.

you’re high too and feel the same way, his hands on your hips are sending radiating heat to your core and when he touches your thighs you get butterflies. this is how it usually starts but he's being much more touchy than normal; you have no complaints.

“you don’t have to do anything. let me make you feel good, spencer..”

he whimpers at the thought of it and eagerly nods. “what are you gonna do?”

“nothing here. let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” you take his hand and he trails behind you to your bedroom.

“get on the bed, baby,” you instruct.

you remove his pajama pants from yourself and go to straddle him again. his hands find your thighs again and he grips them as you grind down against him.

he won’t stop releasing tiny little whimpers that are driving you crazy, he’s looking at you in a way that seems like begging. you’re still grinding on him and you feel him start to get hard against you.

“awe, there we go,” you tease “you like that, spence?” you speed up your movements a little and he gasps.

“answer me, spencer.”

“yes. yes i like it. don’t stop, you’re so fucking hot. i’m so obsessed with your thighs. you’re so soft and, fuck, it feels amazing.”

“my thighs? you like them?”

“mhm, so much. love to touch them”

you have an idea. “do you wanna touch them in a..different way?”

he’s still whining at the movements you’re making on top of him and he doesn’t ask you to explain just nods.

you move back a little and slip your hand under his waist band. he groans loudly as your fingers touch him for the first time tonight. “take your shirt off.”

he does as he’s told and bucks his hips up into your hand. you don’t give him anything more than you already are just trailing your fingers up and down his length, swiping your thumb across his tip. you get off of him and tug at his waistband, he gets the hint and removes his pants and boxers before he lays down and you crawl back onto him.

you settle down like you might start to ride him but instead you very softly settle spencer’s length between your soft thighs. he whines your name and thrusts himself between them further trying to get friction. you smile at him, in amusement.

“that’s exactly what i was talking about..you wanna fuck my thighs, spence?” you lean forward and ask in his ear.

“oh my god. please? please let me do that. how do i do that? you want it?” he’s flustered and babbling, lacking his usual conciseness. “yeah, i want it. why else would i offer? i wanna see you lose it over being between a part of me that isn’t inherently sexual, you know? like…if i liked your hands a lot. you’d let me use your hand to get off and i..im gonna let you fuck my thighs until you cum all over them.” spencer is looking at you with wide eyes. he didn’t expect you to say so many words but your answer has his length throbbing and his brain at a loss for words.

“how about i let you do it from behind? you can slide yourself right in between them, would you like that?”

spencer’s head is spinning and all he can think about is how much he wants to feel you like that. he’d never thought about it before but now? he’d do anything at the moment to press his cock between your plush legs and feel you in such a different, intimate, way—in a way no one else has had you. he nods again and looks at you with pleading eyes.

“spence, that’s not really an answer. how do you want me, baby? i wanna make you feel so good for your first time like this.”

he whines because he just wants to feel you but chokes out “please..from behind?”

“that’s what i was hoping you’d want,” you say with confidence.

spencer tugs off your shirt and watches as you settle on the bed. you keep pillows under your arms and keep your legs together. he runs his hands down your body and takes special care to tease the inside of your thighs. you moan as he drags his fingers through your warm, using it to coat his cock and groaning something about how wet you are as he spreads it onto your thighs as well.

spencer eases himself between your thighs, cursing and snapping his hips forward. he slowly moves back and forth between your thighs as his grip on your body tightens a little. all he can think about is how he’s so glad you had this idea because it feels like his body is burning with pleasure that pulses through him. he regrets never trying this with you before and would love to do it again. it feels better like this.

“why.. have you never gotten me high and had sex with me until now,” he whines into your ear as he leans down. he's panting and being far more vocal than usual, saying your name and holding your hips tight. he's desperately pulling you back against his movements as he uses your soft thighs to pleasure himself.

you move your hand down towards your thighs and spencer thinks you’re going to try to get some relief for yourself but instead you use it rub over his tip each time it protrudes from between your soft flesh. spencer’s hips stutter and you feel his hand shaking against your lower back. he's completely lost in the moment and with you; absolutely drowning in the way you make him feel. he's so worked up and can't catch his breath but wants to feel you closer. you’ve never seen or felt him act like this during sex. the shaking and whining is honestly a huge compliment and makes you feel accomplished and happy that you could do this for him.

“i’m so close. i’m so so close. fuck. can i cum on them? let me finish on your pretty thighs. let me claim them like that.”

the last phrase sends shiver through your body and you waste no time before telling him “yes, please do. that’s what i’m here for tonight, spence.” even though he hasn't even touched you where you want him you're bordering on dripping wet for him and he can see the glistening in the bedroom light.

he moans your name and within seconds he’s spurting pretty white ropes on your ass and thighs. he’s fucking up into his hand and it’s a gorgeous sight to see looking over your shoulder. he's whimpering by the time he finishes and you turn around to do a quick swipe of your tongue from bottom to top; this makes him pull away in overstimulation but gently run his fingers through your hair.

he lays down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. his face is flushed and his hair is disheveled. when he can breath again he turns off to kiss you, it’s soft and hesitant just because he doesn’t know if you want something from him. he wants to give you something and he runs his hands down your sides again.

“isn’t it your turn?” spencer says as he starts to kiss your neck and chest, his hand moves down to touch just outside of where you need him. he's marking you as his in another way now; sucking on your collarbone and basically purring in your ear in anticipation.

“yeah, i guess it is. what did you want to do?”

“i want you on my tongue. i want to taste you, i can’t even imagine what that would be like right now. will you let me?”

you press your thighs together at the thought, trying to feel anything at the moment because you want him so badly. you love when he's articulate with his words and sure of himself when he asks consent.

you nod and he moves his kisses to your chest and pauses to play with your left nipple with his right hand and put the other one in his mouth. he sucks and soothes the skin with his tongue, little touches of his teeth have you whining for him. he finds your impatience very attractive. he wants you to need him.

he kisses even lower, stopping at the top of your thighs to admire them and spreading them further apart to make room for him. he uses his thumb to lightly expose more of you to himself. wetness coats his thumb as he teases up and down from your clit to your entrance.

“so, so pretty,” he says under his breath. you look down at him just in time to see him suck his thumb clean and make eye contact with him. “mmm,” he hums in approval, “taste so good, pretty girl."

you blush and watch as he licks a wide strip from bottom to top of your sex. the feeling sends shivers down your spine. spencer prods deeper into your heat and meets your clit. he does soft, almost massaging, movements with his tongue. he gently envelops your bundle of nerves with his mouth and confidently slides his tongue against every place he can.

your thighs start to close around him but he holds them back open, lapping up your wetness like it’s his only job in the world to make you orgasm. he’s thorough and presses one finger to your entrance, he looks up at you for approval and smiles when you buck your hips, nod and whine all at once. he’s never said it before but he loves when you fall apart for him, he daydreams about it at work. it’s what he thinks about in hotel rooms at night when he’s alone. right now his mind is filled with nothing but you, your hands in his hair and the warmth of your body around him. he’s obsessed with learning your body and always has been but right now? his body is filled with the need to make you cum.

he presses his finger up inside you and finds the spot he knows makes your legs shake and your breath hitch in your throat. he moves slowly inside you, really taking his time to gauge your reactions. you’d think spencer would get more sloppy or impatient or maybe even lazy as he’s high but none of that happened. if anything it increased his patience in his acts. he looks up at you with glossy eyes and smiles against you when you blush at his gaze.

he moves his tongue down your folds and carefully licks around his fingers that are stretching you open and prodding against your walls with delicious fervor. he finds his way back to your clit and closes his eyes to focus on sucking and licking at your bud in his mouth trying to push you closer to the edge. it’s working and within the minute you’re moaning his name and cursing under your breath — all he can focus on is you you you how he needs you. your taste, your sounds and warm skin flood his senses.

he feels you tighten around his fingers and hears the whimper you let out right before you’re feeling white hot pleasure course through you from your center. you’re throbbing by the end and spencer still isn’t stopping. you whine and half heartedly try to push his head away.

“too much, spence. ‘m too sensitive,” you say.

he stops just long enough to look into your eyes and say “i don’t care. i’m enjoying myself and i know you like it when i make you feel so good you cry.”

your orgasm made even more slick gather and coat his hand. he keeps his assault of your most sensitive places steady while you start to lose yourself in his touch. his hands splayed across your thighs with his finger tips holding you tightly in place have you dizzy with want.

your second climax is quickly approaching and you pray that Spencer doesn't take it away from you. he's not one for orgasm denial he certaintly prefers overstimulation. it washes over you and you're babbling his name; unable to form words. your hips are trying to buck up against his face but he holds you steady and lets you ride out your pleasure on his tongue. you're not crying though, so he isn't done with you.

"i want you, spencer. please use me to get off. i'll let you do whatever you want. you're always so good to me, let it be your turn again. what will make you feel best?"

he's amused that you're worried about him in this situation as if your pleasure doesn't have his head spinning and his heart racing. it took everything in him not to grind against the bed when he was eating you out. he felt that would be selfish though and knew you'd want to help him. you're still trying to catch your breath and he's still rubbing all over your thighs. he continues to trail over the top and underneath and on all parts of your bikini line. he's such a goddamn tease but doesn't answer your question he just looks at you, waiting for you to say something else.

"do you want to smoke more, spence?"

he tries to hide his surprise and excitement but ultimately fails. he handled the first round really well and you decide he can likely handle more this time around.

"do you want to smoke more? its your stuff, baby. you dont have to share."

"quit being silly. everything else that's mine is yours…my body is yours and you're worred about a bowl or two to make you want me even more?"

he nods in agreement and blushes. he takes it upon himself to leave the bedroom and bring your things back in from the living room. you're both still naked and it feels more intimate like this, spencer never lets you feel self conscious and you do the same for him. neither of you are embarassed or worried about it in this moment. he gives you a soft kiss before he smiles and says,

"i've brought you a gift." he gives you the bong, its pink by the way and the bowl is heart shaped.

he already knows what to do this time and is far less nervous. you take the piece from him and get to work filling the bowl with ground flower from your grinder, that is also pink and has a heart on top. he waits patiently and just spends time admiring you. your hair is messed up and so is his but he really believes you look beautiful; he thinks you're perfect and can't wait to get his hands on you again and feel you writhe underneath him. he shakes his head trying to focus on something other than the dirty thoughts hes having about you like the way you'll beg for his cock, how your legs shake when he's done with you and the marks that'll be left tomorrow.

you let Spencer smoke as much as he thinks he can handle in comparison to last time; he still coughs and needs his water everytime but you're kind of impressed by his perseverance. he keeps up with you mostly, until your last few inhales when he watches you with low red eyes. he feels almost dizzy but in a good way and wants to be in you really really badly, he cant think of another way to describe it and thats how he knows he's right where he needs to be for what happens next.

again, he teases and touches your inner thighs and trails the crease between them; obviously trying to have some effect on you and it works. he knows just how to touch you to make you want all of him. as you finish up his touching becomes more insistent and maybe more suggestive as he slowly moves closer and closer to where you need him.

"you all done, pretty girl? gonna let me touch you again?"

you nod eagerly and pull him on top of you as you lean back on the pillows on the bed before meeting his lips with yours. the kissing gets intense fast, with his hands touching you a little less softly as he's filled with need. you're rutting up against the thigh he has resting between yours and nip at his bottom lip gently as he pulls away to look into your eyes. "i want you in me, spencer. i've been waiting all night. waiting since you started looking at me hungrily at that party. i know you were thinking about me like this instead of fully clothed sitting on your lap in front of all of your friends." he groans at your words and gives in to you, no longer teasing after the way you're talking to him. he's still on top of you as he trails his fingers down your throat then stomach and finally resting with a thumb on your bundle of nerves. he presses light circles and slowly slides two fingers in that you take with ease. he decides that you're wet enough and you've never minded a little discomfort at first anyway. you beg him to move even if it hurts a little.

spencer lines up with your entrance and very, very slowly enters you as he throws his head back in pleasure and grans your hip hard enough it might leave bruises tomorrow. he can hardly stop himself from taking you roughly right there like his fucked up brain wants him to. insead, he holds back and begins moving in and out at a slow, steady pace. his movements spread your wetness over him and soon he's bottomed out. hes so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach as he presses against your walls. he feels you clenching down on him and he swears under his breath.

'fuck. fuck, you're so tight. god, and warm. feels so good."

he's still moving slowly in you and you're starting to feel impatient. but rushing spencer isn't something that really happens; he loves to take his time with you like this until you're begging for his cock to move faster inside you. he sees your water eyes begging for him without saying a single word.

"awe, does my baby want more? say please."

"please. please fuck me. i've been so good and have done everything you've said."

he hums in agreement and says nothing as he speeds up and changes the angle of his thrusts slightly as he fucks into you. you keep tightening around him and its driving him crazy, he can't get enough of you at the moment. his hands are shaking again as he holds himself up with one and massages your breast with the other. his hands splay wide across your skin and his hair hangs down in his face just a little while he moves inside you.

his pace is steady and his hips only falter when he hits something in you that makes you tighten around him and arch your back into his touch. soon his length is touching perfectly against that sweet spot in you that makes your head spin and your hands desperately grab for the sheets or spencer in general.

he switches to something much faster and quickly your nails are scratching long lines across his back, hard enough his back will sting tomorrow and he might wince at the feeling of his shirt rubbing against the wounds you've left him with; he'll like it though and grin to himself as he thinks about the way he had you the night before.

with your nails dragging down his flesh in needy bliss, spencer can't even think to talk you through it like he normally would. he's hardly ever at a loss for words but he's high and doesn't know how to cope with all the sensations he's feeling. what he knows should feel like pain against his skin, your scratches, feels like pleasure that spreads through his entire body; with his existence aflame from your touch.

he's lost all sense of the words "soft" and "rough" and is focused on pushing you over the edge again. he's getting close again but is trying to hold back until he pulls another orgasm from your overwhelmed body. the sound of skin hitting skin is filling the room as well as your pleas and unending moans of your lover's name. his hand intertwines with yours as he wrecks you just like you wanted. you wanted Spencer to be a little reckless, a little thoughtless in the process of tonight's sex.

thinking about the way he whined and whimpered between your thighs earlier is pushing you closer and closer as a knot in your stomach tightens. spencer's fingers find your clit and rub quick small circles in the way he knows you like. he's pulling you apart at the seams and doing everything he can to coax your orgasm from you before he finishes himself. since you've gotten together he's learned how to get you to let go completely and surrender yourself to how he makes you feel.

his breathing is heavy and he knows a few words will be enough to make you unravel under him. "come on, angel. I can feel you're close, let go for me. come on, let go. you're such a good girl, do what I tell you and cum around my cock. let me feel you."

his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he practically begs you to finish so he can too. "you want me to cum in you? want me to fill you up? i wont until you finish under me."

you desperately want to feel him pulsing and filling you so you focus and close your eyes underneath him. normally, he would tell you to open your eyes and look at him when he's dragging you off the edge towards more white hot bliss. warmth spreads through your body, all the way to your fingertips as you start to lost contact with the real world. your climax washes over you in waves that match the pulsing Spencer feels from you.

your orgasm is enough to send him reeling over his own ledge as his thrusts start to turn irratic and lose uniformity. he moans into the kiss you pull him down into and he stops moving completely to pump his cum into you. towards the end he moves his hips slowly against yours, grinding into you and fucking his seed further into you. you hum in approval until he pulls out which leaves you feeling empty and forces a whine and frown out of you.

"baby, don't pout right now. I'll give you more later, or tomorrow, or both if you want. we need to do that more. you looked so beautiful, do you know that? absolutely perfect losing touch with reality under me." he falls onto the bed beside you and opens his arms for you to rest against his chest. he's moderately sticky with sweat but you don't care, just loving the physical contact spencer allows you to have at this moment. you start to drift off into sleep to the soothing sound of your boyfriend's heartbeat. he softly rouses you away and reminds you that you need to pee after sex, "to prevent a UTI, of course." you groan but pull yourself off of him as you tread to the bathroom, spencer's cum threatening to leak out of you and run down your thighs.

spencer enters the bathroom a few minutes to ask if you'd like to shower with him. "i wasn't super gentle with you this time, let me take care of you and clean you up."

who are you to deny him caring for you like he wants to? it feels better to give him what he wants.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #high!spencer #mgg x reader

[kyhgwts]

Older!König x Fem!Reader

I love the idea of gentle and shy older!König but then he’s just an absolute beast in bed, like please? For my sanity?

Just imagine him being so quiet and put off to himself around everyone but you.

Walking around in the grocery store he’s trailing behind you as you push the cart, silently messing with your shirt nervously when someone comes up to you and makes small talk. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with them. It’s not that he is scared, god no, look at the man. But he just isn’t comfortable showing his real self to people who aren’t you. Maybe only your very close friends who come over a lot, but other than that? Absolutely no one.

He’s just so UGH like a big soft bear, silent and kept to himself but if anyone dares to mess with his territory (you) all hell will break loose.

He hates being out in public without you, because then you aren’t there to do all the talking. And he isn’t an asshole, so he has to respond back to people.

“Oh! Hi König!” He turns back to look at someone who he registered as a close friend of yours.

“Hallo” he smiles gingerly, he knew this friend of yours well enough they came over a lot, and he wasn’t shy by them.

“Where’s your attachment at?” They ask, smiling at their own joke. It almost makes him chuckle but that’s too far out of his comfort zone.

“Back at home, got sick” he would explain shortly, but not in a rude way because he respected this friend, they meant a lot to you.

“Well alright big guy, I’ll leave you alone. Tell her i said get well!” They said making their way for the end of the aisle, he just nodded.

How is he so big, but so gentle?!?! He’s so perfect :(

Like the perfect cocoon, laying in bed, you straddling his lap as you nuzzle your head into his chest and neck. His big arms holding you tight against him as he takes in your presence, the heat from your body, the weight of you making him feel secure, your hair wash smelling so good, as well as your perfume you always have on, he fucking loved it.

But oh if this man is in a mood? You have the time of your life.

“König! Please” you’d moan and cry, tear prickling from your eyes.

“Please what baby?” He’d ask all innocent, while he’s pounding into you, stuffing you so full you can’t even think clearly :(

He’d push down on your stomach, causing you to gasp at the familiar sensation.

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes” you’d sob, pushing down your hips trying to fuck yourself on him.

“My Süßes Mädchen“ he’d whisper, all while never giving you a break, pounding into you with his hand pressed hard into your stomach. (Sweet Girl)

The sound of skin against skin making him go feral, the wet sounds as he pounds into you making your cheeks go red, but he fucking loved it.

“Come on Kostbarkeit, let go for me baby” he groans, your tears streaming down your face in pure ecstasy. You loved this side of him, so masculine and beautiful. Taking care of you and that deep feelings in your stomach :( (Treasure)

Once you’ve came, and you’ve milked him for all he’s got he carefully lays himself on top of you. Making sure not to crush you. And loving on you like no other, head nuzzled into your neck as he kissed it, and hands roaming your body as he kept you close and your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck Mein Baby, i just can’t get enough of you” he’d whisper while his hands slide under your back, hands meeting up behind your head cradling it as pulls you closer.

You moan from the movement, his cock still deep inside of you.

You could stay like this forever, in his embrace, feeling so full and content.

You didn’t leave that bed for another few hours, as he made soft love to you, making sure you felt his love as he slowly rocked into you.

Life was perfect with your perfect boy around :(

#foryou #kyhgwts #smut is life #fluff #agegap #könig x reader #older!könig #older bf #könig call of duty #cod #könig smut #könig x you #konig headcanons #könig #i need him #i want this #please? #i need older König to make love to me

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Handle Critique

I’ve got to admit, I wish I was one of those beatific saints that could take critique with a grateful smile. Instead, I am constantly suppressing a horrible little gremlin at the back of my head hissing at anything from legit plot critiques to grammar corrections. I’m well aware I used that comma wrong, GOD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at suppressing that gremlin, but the little bastard is still there. He exists because even though your brain knows critique can help, it also knows you worked damn hard on the thing being critiqued, and goddamnit, isn’t that enough???

Anyway, here are some tips on getting that gremlin to shut the hell up.

It is okay to be upset. You worked really hard on this thing, and now someone’s gone and pointed out all the things that suck about it. You cannot control how you feel about one thing or another, but you can allow yourself to feel that way and let it pass through you. Let your critique partner you’re taking time to reflect on it, and go for a walk. Do something else. Let those feelings pass through you before you get back to the page.

Give yourself time. Don’t feel like you need to correct things right away (unless they are minimal grammar tweaks). Some pieces of feedback might take awhile to sink in, especially when you’ve got a whole novel to wrestle through. Set it aside, think about something else for a week or so, and get back to it when you’ve reset.

Get a second opinion and/or ducky friend. It can be very hard to tell the difference between good and bad feedback sometimes. Someone who means very well could give feedback that just doesn’t work for you, and someone who doesn’t give two shits could have spotted that fatal flaw right away. You can bring in a real third party or just make use of the old rubber duck technique, where you talk through the issue with a friend or a Naruto poster telling you to Believe it. Working it out out-loud is a really effective technique to figure out what needs fixing and what doesn’t.

Guide critique-givers toward the feedback you want. I, a person who prefers straightforward fantasy and sci-fi, cannot give the fine-tooth points on how a romance novel should work. However, I can give feedback on what works for me and what doesn’t story-wise. Giving your beta reader or critique partner a list of questions to look for will help avoid vague feedback based on how they don’t like the genre. There are many ways to do this, but consider using the following as a base to tailor your own questions:

Did you get a good sense of the setting? Did the worldbuilding make sense to you?

Was this story clear? Where there any parts that seemed confusing?

What characters did you like and why? What characters didn’t you like?

Did any parts of the story feel slow or repetitive?

Did the beginning draw you in? Did the middle keep you engaged? Did the ending feel satisfying?

If you were to write [insert plot point here], what would you do differently?

Again, all of the above questions are up for debate depending on your goal, but we are rarely taught how to give good feedback, and a guided feedback session would work better for you than a free-for-all.

Figure out what kind of advice doesn’t work for you. It is really hard to give good feedback sometimes, even with guided questions. It can also be really hard to figure out why some feedback doesn’t click with you, and that’s a matter of digging deep to figure out what you really want. You may lean toward characters who are horrible fuck-ups, but your partner prefers more steady characters who always strive to do the right thing. Your characters, therefore, may never click with this person, no matter how much they want to help you. And that’s okay! Figuring out where your critique partner is coming from can help you figure out what parts of their feedback isn’t working for you. Sometimes the only thing you can do is thank them and move on, but you might also want to guide them to focus more on the plot or the worldbuilding when looking at your work.

And last, don’t focus on grammar. It’s great if they point that out, but if you end up changing everything, trying to fix that first is a waste of your time. Grammar tweaks last, plot points first.

And, I dunno, give yourself a treat to get that horrible little mind gremlin something else to focus on. Sometimes patting those bad feelings on the head and sending them away can help way more than ignoring them.

#writing feedback #writing advice #telling yourself this feels bad and I don't like it is okay! #even if you asked for that advice it can still hurt! #just let it pass and you'll be okay

[coloursflyaway]

Good Enough

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.000

Read on AO3

So, Edwin is in love with him.

Edwin loves him, and Charles genuinely never even considered the possibility of this, of them, before.

It might be because, back when he was still alive, his dad would have beaten the notion right out of him, but then again, his dad has been wrong about most things in his life, so fuck him.

So, Edwin is in love with him.

It’s… quite flattering, actually. To think that Edwin, who is beautiful and intelligent and educated, who can recite his favourite Keats poem by heart just as easily as tell you his favourite Mozart aria (it’s Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen from Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Edwin told him that, years ago), who knows spells and can read ancient Aramaic, who is the kindest, most brilliant person Charles has ever known, would love him.

Now, Charles knows that he is easy enough on the eyes, good with words and people, and has one hell of a swing if you give him a cricket bat, but the only reason he knows any Mozart aria is because Edwin showed them to him.

The only reason he knows Keats’ poetry is because Edwin would read them to him on slow, warm summer nights in the early 2000s.

The only reason he is here, is because Edwin let him stay.

So, it’s special, having someone like Edwin love him.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Because Charles is now holding the heart of the person he loves most in the world, and it’s a bigger responsibility than any he has ever taken on before.

He can’t fuck this up.

The thing is that nothing changes between them at all.

Charles isn’t sure if he expected it to, but what he is relatively certain about is that it most likely should. After all, it was an unexpected revelation, probably to both of them, definitely a shift in their relationship.

And yet, when Charles looks at Edwin, who is reading a novel whose name he cannot make out, curled up on the couch they have gotten for Crystal (and sometimes Jenny), he doesn’t feel different at all.

It’s still Edwin, his best mate, the boy that read to him when he was dying so he wouldn’t have to do it alone, who tries to smile whenever Charles shows him a new song he has fallen in love with, and occasionally fails hilariously at, who Charles would protect with his life and his soul and his cricket bat, no matter how high the stakes.

I love you the most, Charles thinks to himself, and smiles, because nothing about that has changed, either.

He has told Edwin that they would have forever to figure out the rest, and it’s the truth, technically speaking.

However, Charles doesn’t, because it’s Edwin and he has given Charles his heart and he doesn’t deserve to wait that long for an answer. It would be cruel in a way Charles cannot comprehend, and if there is anyone who doesn’t deserve more cruelty in their existence, it’s Edwin Payne.

The only problem with that fact is that Charles doesn’t know the answer.

He’s been thinking about it a lot, but the thing is, he’s never been in love before.

So he doesn’t really know what to compare his feelings for Edwin to, because, of course, they are greater than for anyone else, of course, Charles would sacrifice anything and anyone for Edwin, especially himself, of course, making Edwin smile is his favourite part of any day.

Because he loves Edwin, everything about him.

But is he, could he be, in love with Edwin?

Charles doesn’t know, nor does he know how to find out. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but every novel he has paged through, every silly romcom he has watched, has been talking about butterflies in someone’s stomach, of seeing them in some new, golden light, of hearing violins playing when they speak, and Charles very much doubts that Edwin feels any of those things for him.

Otherwise he wouldn’t raise his eyebrows like that when he thinks Charles is being an insufferable little prick, he wouldn’t roll his eyes and tell him, “I know, Charles, you have told me a thousand times before”, whenever Charles brings up how much he wishes he could still taste things, or groan whenever Charles attempts to convince him to just try and let him put on some eyeliner.

(It’s just that Edwin would look so pretty like that, some kohl to bring out the warmth of his eyes, making them stand out even more than they do anyway.)

So all this talk of violins and sparkles and the need to give someone roses, if Edwin doesn’t feel that when he says he is love with Charles, then it’s pointless to consider, and anyway, those books and films describe people who have just met, not those who have known each other for twice as long as they were alive.

Maybe if he had just met Edwin, he would be hearing violins, Charles definitely thinks it’s possible.

Especially the violins in Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen.

“I just need some time alone”, Crystal says, putting on her jacket, while already opening the door. “And I am aware that that is a novel concept for the two of you, since you are basically attached at the hip, but for me, an alive human being, it’s really important to occasionally have a second of peace between almost dying and whatever we will have going on next.”

She stops to put on her shoes, almost falling over in the process, and Charles and Edwin share a look, a smile, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

“Don’t follow me”, Crystal tells them, especially Charles, and it’s kind of cute, actually. “I’m going to get the biggest frappuchino Starbucks is legally allowed to serve me and I will not tolerate any ghostly company while doing that.”

Charles holds up his hands, still grinning, indicating his surrender in a battle he wasn’t aware they were fighting, and Crystal gives him a single nod before she walks out.

“So”, Charles starts, and turns around to face Edwin, who is already looking back, “what do we think this frappuchino she was talking about, is?”

Actually, there is one thing that changes between them after all.

It’s subtle, at least at first, but looking back, Charles isn’t quite sure how he managed to miss it for the few weeks that have passed. Maybe it was the shock of almost being forced to move on to the afterlife, the chaos of getting Crystal and Jenny settled in London, the fact that it seems to increase only slowly, incrementally.

Edwin has never been a physically affectionate person, completely contrary to how Charles is.

If it had been up to him alone, he would have hugged Edwin much more often, would have leant against him when they were looking through a book together, would have held hands to keep them from losing each other when things got hectic. But it wasn’t, and that was fine, so it was occasional touches instead, a hand on Edwin’s upper arm, his back, ruffling his perfect hair when he was doing something kind of dumb, kind of cute.

(That one always made him duck his head and smile, glance up at Charles through his lashes and allow a second to pass before he started fixing his hair again.)

Now, however, it’s… it’s not getting better, because there was nothing wrong with it in the first place, Edwin’s aversion to physical affection, but it is changing now.

It’s less that he initiates it, more than he allows it to happen more frequently. Sitting down next to Charles on the sofa instead of taking the armchair, allowing Charles’ hand to linger on his arm for a moment longer than expected, letting their shoulders brush when walking.

He’s not asking to be touched, not really, but something about it still makes Charles irrationally happy as soon as he catches onto it. Because Edwin deserves all the affection the world can offer, and Charles will always be here to give it to him.

So he reaches out in the morning, when the sun has just started to rise, and puts his hand on the curve of Edwin’s shoulder, right where it meets his neck, and points out that the clouds are turning the most beautiful pink. He throws his legs across Edwin’s lap when they settle down on the sofa at night, a book in Edwin’s hands, the tablet Crystal made him buy in Charles’. He pushes his fingers through Edwin’s hair, not to ruffle it, but just to pretend he can feel its softness against his skin.

It makes Edwin duck his head again, give Charles a little smile when looking up, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

And thinks, I want to love you the most in every way you will have me.

“Jenny, I have a question”, Charles starts as soon as he has phased through the walls of her new butcher shop. It’s to her credit that she hardly reacts; the first time he had done that, she had thrown a meat cleaver right through his head. “What do you know about love?”

Instead of a knife, Jenny just throws him a weary look, an eyebrow elegantly arched. It makes Charles think of being scolded by the headmistress, a sensation that should be much more unpleasant than it is.

“Nothing”, Jenny answers and brings her cleaver down with a dull thud, separating flesh from bone, before looking up at Charles again. “No one ever knows anything about love and if they try to tell you otherwise, they are lying.”

There is a certain sense of finality in her voice and Charles knows he has been dismissed, no detention this time, but don’t dare to push it.

“Great”, he mutters, more to himself than to Jenny, “that doesn’t help me at all.”

“You should look at this, Charles”, Edwin says and turns the book towards him.

It’s late at night, Crystal having long since gone home and they are sat on the sofa, shoulders touching while they do their research. A new case has come up, and Edwin is trying to learn more about ancient Celtic runes, while Charles is pouring over a map of London’s underground; now, he looks up and at the page Edwin is showing him.

“We could add this to your bat”, Edwin explains, “it’s a rune for physical strength. Supposedly, it doubles whatever force you put into a hit.”

“Edwin, mate, are you trying to tell me I need help with hitting people?”

Charles is grinning, obviously teasing, and Edwin just scoffs, rolls his eyes.

And that is what Charles means; this isn’t birdsong and candle light, this is just how they always have been. This is what makes them them, even.

“Charles, do be serious”, Edwin replies, but there is affection in his voice, there is love. “I am perfectly aware that you can hit things very well, but that doesn’t mean that hitting them even better wouldn’t be an advantage.”

“I know. This is brills”, Charles concedes, and on a whim, nothing more than that, presses a quick kiss to Edwin’s cheek.

For a moment, he almost expects Edwin to admonish him, because this isn’t exactly something that they do, but instead he stares at him, before he ducks his head; Charles isn’t sure how he knows this, but if Edwin could, he would be blushing.

And it does something to Charles’ head, the thought that he would be able to make Edwin blush. It makes him stop dead in his tracks, look at Edwin not like he is seeing him for the first time, but like he could be looking at him for the rest of his existence and not get bored of it.

“Do you wanna do the honours of carving it? Since you were the one who found the thing?”, he asks just to say something, aware that his voice sounds slightly off, and thinks, I love you the most. I love you the most. I love you the most.

“Very well done, Charles”, Edwin tells him and clasps a long-fingered hand on Charles’ shoulder, peering down at the leprechaun he knocked out clean with his bat a few seconds before.

The rune really makes it pack a punch.

“I don’t think this will pose any further problems”, Edwin continues even as he crouches down to examine the passed-out form crumpled on the ground. He prods at it gently.

“It fucking better”, Charles replies, resisting the urge to pull Edwin away from the leprechaun, just in case that touching it might have some kind of magical side effect. “And if not, I’ll punch it right back out. I’ve got an Edwin Payne-improved bat after all, it won’t stand a chance.”

Just for good measure, he twirls the bat around once, twice.

This has always been one of his favourite parts of the job, the simple pleasure of knocking someone out before they get the chance to hurt his friends.

Edwin looks up at him from where he is crouching, and Charles grins at him, metaphorical adrenaline running through his non-existent veins still. He would punch out a bear if Edwin asked it of him.

Before he can say anything else, though, Crystal clears her throat from behind him, sounding decidedly less impressed.

“That’s really cool, yeah. New bat, I get it”, she says, walking around Charles so she, too, can see the unconscious leprechaun. “But you do remember that we actually wanted to talk to him, right?”

They get to talk to the leprechaun in the end, who turns out to be about as obnoxious as expected, but does admit to stealing the heirloom they were looking for for his pot of gold.

He even gives it back, but only after Charles has started twirling his bat again.

“And another satisfied customer”, Charles comments as they return to the agency, flinging his backpack into the corner.

“Client, you mean”, Edwin corrects, but still smiles at him, and pats the space next to him as soon as he sits down on the sofa. Charles flings himself down without a second thought, legs landing somewhere across Edwin’s laps, one of his hands settling on Charles’ ankles.

This is new, at least to some extent, and Charles loves it, the feeling of Edwin’s fingers on him. It feels right, somehow.

I just really love you the most, he thinks.

“Yeah, whatever”, he concedes and looks over at Crystal, who is watching them with something in her eyes that Charles cannot quite place. Not bad, per se, just…. Strange. “Doesn’t sound that good though, does it? And anyway, the most important thing is that they’re satisfied, right? Passed on right to the afterlife, no worries keeping them here any longer.”

“As if it’s only worries that could keep one here”, Edwin replies, his tone as dry as the desert, but making Charles laugh anyway. “We should be the best example for that.”

“You know what I mean!”, he shoots back, “It isn’t like with us, is it? Don’t think that the client was kept back by meeting the love of their life, were they now?”

It spills from his lips like nothing, without Charles thinking about it for a single second.

He’s still laughing, but Edwin’s fingers have stopped where they were gently stroking across the arch of his foot, and then Charles realises it, and for the first time, hears silence.

For the first time since they got back from Hell, they part when Crystal leaves.

The conversation had been stilted after Charles’...slip up? blunder? confession? and although it had been obvious that all three of them had been trying, it had been impossible to get things back on track.

So, Charles leaves with Crystal, telling Edwin he will walk her home, although that is something he has never done before, and Crystal lets him, although he is fairly certain she wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

She doesn’t need anyone protecting her from the city she grew up in after all.

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?”, Charles asks after they have walked in silence for a few minutes. He can’t think of a way to cushion the question, how to make it less awkward to ask, so he doesn’t bother with it at all.

“This is about Edwin?”, she asks, seemingly to clarify, and Charles nods mutely, not looking up at her. “I’m not sure. Especially not when it comes to the two of you. For Edwin, I could have seen from miles away that he was in love with you, even if he hadn’t reacted like he did when we first met. For you… you love him, anyone with eyes could see that, but if you’re in love with him, I think you have to figure that out yourself.”

“Do you know how it feels, though? Being in love?”, he asks, just in case Crystal can at least tell him that.

“I’m not sure”, she answers after a moment, then links their arms together, pulling Charles closer. “I think that’s different for everyone. But I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what it feels like to you if you let yourself.”

He walks Crystal home, but when she asks if he wants to stay, Charles just shakes his head.

Edwin is back at the agency, and Charles isn’t sure exactly in which state, what he is thinking, and Charles cannot allow that. At least not for long.

What he does, though, is taking a little detour to the park not too far from their building.

It’s the first time he really pays it any mind, even if it’s most likely not the first time he’s been there, but now, Charles lays down on the grass, looking up at the night sky.

London is too bright for him to see many stars, but there’s a few of them; Edwin would surely be able to point out a constellation or two.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

Edwin isn’t here, and yet he is with Charles anyway, always, in every moment of his existence.

Sighing, he scrubs a hand down his face. There’s no way around it, it has to be now, and it has to be the right answer, the one he truly means, because Edwin deserves nothing but that.

No false hope, and no heartbreak that might be taken back along the line.

So, he thinks of Edwin, of his elegant hands and the swagger in his walk when he feels confident, of the colour of his hair and of his eyes, of the curves and slopes and sharp cuts of his face.

He loves that face, has seen it with every possible expression painted across of it, and still loves it.

The stars above are dim and partly hidden behind the clouds, so Charles lets his eyes slip shut, and imagines coming home to the agency and taking Edwin’s hands in his.

They would be just a little smaller than his own, his fingers slender and yet so capable, and if he could still feel, Charles is convinced they would feel cool against his skin.

He imagines pulling Edwin close and holding him like he has always wanted to, burying his face against the side of Edwin’s neck and pretending he can breathe in his scent. Having Edwin sneak his arms around Charles’ waist and cling to the back of his jacket, like he doesn’t want to let go again.

In his imagination, it feels a little like the hug they shared after being granted asylum on Earth, but it would be entirely different, because it wouldn’t be out of relief.

Instead, it would be just them, embracing to feel the other close.

And he thinks of pulling back from the hug, seeing Edwin smile and kissing the curve of his lips, nipping at them until he can make Edwin laugh and teasing his mouth open to lick into it.

It would be like kissing Crystal, kind of, only that-

Only that it wouldn’t be like that at all.

He runs back to the agency, as fast as his spectral feet can carry him.

Edwin is sitting right where he left him, almost like he hadn’t moved an inch since Charles walked out of the door, and he hopes to all deities he can think of that it isn’t so; knows, at the same time, that it is.

“Hi”, Charles greets, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and Edwin nods and gives him a smile, brittle and unsure and hopeful, all at once.

“Hello, Charles. Did Crystal get home safe?”, he asks, and it’s so painfully polite it makes Charles cringe.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course she did”, he responds, trying to figure out how to begin saying what he needs Edwin to know, but Edwin beats him to it.

“Did you mean it?”, Edwin asks, breathes out the question like he still has lungs to do so, and it’s in that moment that Charles is more certain of his answer than anything else he has ever thought, because Edwin sounds small, sounds vulnerable and breakable and yet so fucking hopeful, and Charles wants to pick him up and cradle him against his chest and never let go again.

“Yes”, he says, and it’s sunrise and violins and bouquets of roses all at once, it’s a single word that changes the world around them. “Kind of. Let me explain.”

And Edwin nods, sits back with his hands in his lap and all Charles can think about is that those same hands belong holding a book, resting on the top of Charles’ legs, which should be flung carelessly across Edwin’s lap, just because Charles wants to be near him.

“You’re the love of my life, no matter what”, he starts, crouching down in front of Edwin so he can take his hands; they look so lost. “You have been for decades. I love you the most of anything in the world. I will always love you the most. Every time I look at you, it’s just that on repeat in my head. I love you the most.”

He ducks his head, laughing softly, because it sounds silly now that he says it out-loud, but when he looks back up, there are tears brimming in Edwin’s eyes, making them shine even brighter.

His lips are parted and for just a moment, Charles thinks about kissing them.

“And you know, I still can’t say that I am in love with you back, because you don’t deserve a lie, but what I can say, what I can promise you, is that I could fall in love with you. And that I want to. More than anything.”

A single tear rolls down Edwin’s cheek, glistening in the dim light, and Charles looks at him, and thinks, I do. I am. I love you the most.

“Could that be enough?”, he asks, squeezing Edwin’s hands in his. “At least for the start?”

And Edwin nods so frantically that more tears spill over, wetting his face, and Charles can’t help but laugh; how strange to think that making Edwin cry for once is not his biggest fear, but something that fills his heart with joy to the point of bursting.

“Okay. Brills, that’s-”, he replies, and can’t keep himself from smiling so wide it would hurt if he was still alive. “So, um. Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you right now.”

Again, Edwin nods, and he is smiling, too, looks so happy that Charles thinks heaven must be overrated, because nothing in the whole of existence could compare to this.

He thinks of the scene he pictured in the park of holding Edwin close and how much in pales in comparison to this, to holding Edwin’s hands and watching him glow with love and hope and warmth.

And leans in to find out if the same is true for kissing him.

(It is.)

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i have written 10k for them now it has been 4 days since i watched the show #what is happening

[star-eyed-angels]

Stray Kids Reaction | NSFW | Being Stray kids' Stress Toy (MAKNAE LINE)

The times you become Skz'z personal stress toy

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: What?! two updates in one week?!? Who am I?? Sorry for this taking forever, I was STRUGGLING with Maknae line. Like I knew what I wanted to write but the words truly would not come no matter what I tried. But it’s here it’s done and I really hope you enjoy!!

AGAIN THIS IS VAGUELY EDITED SO PLEASE BE KIND🥹

Warnings: free use (literally all of them), sub/dom dynamics, subspace, nicknames, teasing, creampie, orgasm denial, voyeurism, overstimulation, cock-warming, biting, mirror sex, filming, bondage, blow jobs, thigh job, handjobs (It's 4am I'm so tired and definitely missing something, please let me know if something needs to be added)

Read at your own discretion

JISUNG

Han is another part of the insatiable line, another member who wouldn’t pass up on a chance to feel you wrapped around him. Jisung’s favorite thing is cockwarming. It’s like a game, he sits you pretty in his lap and neither of you gets to cum until he finishes his lyrics. To the others they think it’s torture, but to him it’s heaven, he gets to have you sit pretty on his cock and it forces him to finish his lyrics faster. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

He swears it’s only cockwarming, enough to help him focus on finishing his lyrics. 

“Come on baby, just until I finish this part! It’s the last one I’m working on,” he pleads, hands skimming along your sides while you stand between his legs.

Each time you roll your eyes, because as soon as he gets his dick anywhere near you all other thoughts go out the window. 

“You and I both know you won’t be able to wait that long,” you say for what feels like the millionth time. You think you’d know better than to trust his words by now. But with the way he looks up at you with sparkling eyes, how could you ever say no? 

You find yourself sinking onto him, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the way his cock fills you. Jisung lets out a low moan as you settle yourself into his lap, his own eyes fluttering. You rest your head against his shoulder, arms loosely hanging around his neck. 

When you’re settled he’s quick to get to work, mumbling to himself as he peaks over your shoulder to write. You do your best not to think of the cock between your legs. But for as much as you tease Jisung for thinking with his dick, you’re no better. 

Thirty minutes pass before it starts to get to you. You can feel the subtle twitches his body gives whenever your breath tickles his neck. Jisung isn’t faring much better. You clench around him every so often. Your breath hitching with each subtle shift of his hips. Eventually you’re panting into his heck, hips subtly grinding into him. 

“Baby you’re making this harder for me,” he pants, hands resting on your hips to still you.

“Fuck the lyrics. Just fuck me already,” you beg pulling him into a rough kiss. He doesn’t hesitate, planting his feet firmly on the ground as he begins to rock into you like his life depends on it. The force of his thrusts jolt you against the desk, making you scramble to balance yourself before you slide off his lap. 

“Sungie be careful, you’re gonna break it again,” you say through dragged out moans. The computer chair squeaks in protest, springs undoubtedly being put to their limit. You can’t blame them, so are you. Your hands sit behind you to balance yourself against the desk, whining at the way Jisung drills his cock into you. 

“I’ll buy another one, I’ll buy as many as I need to keep fucking you like this,” he rushes out. His hold on you is firm as he fucks you in his lap. The way he’s gripping onto your sides, fingers digging into the flesh because he knows you’ll love the marks it leaves. He drags you over his cock again and again, using you as his personal fleshlight.

“Can’t get enough of this pussy shit, ride me baby, there you go. Fuck take it like it’s yours babe,” he moans out when you sit up suddenly, taking control of your movements. It’s like your body has a mind of its own, your hips slamming down onto him. 

Your thighs burn with every movement, but it feels far too good for you to care. Your hands rest behind his head, one hand gripping the back of his curly hair while your other steadies yourself on the back of his chair. 

“Ji- fuck! Baby please need it, needa cum!” you cry out, thankful for the fact that the entire studio is sound-proof.

“Yeah? I’ll make you cum baby. Come on, cum all over me so I can fill this fucking pussy,” He growls, hand reaching down to pinch at your clit. The feeling sends you head first into your orgasm. You fall against Jisung as you cum, still rocking yourself against him as you feel him shake through his own orgasm. He bites his lip as he cums, still managing to let a few swears slip through. He falls back in the chair as he comes down from his own high.

“Told you you wouldn’t last,” you pant against his shoulder. He huffs out a laugh, jostling you against his chest.

“Lasted longer than last time, that’s a win in my book baby,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You only roll your eyes.

FELIX

Lix who makes you insatiable. You’re not quite sure how he does it. But one look from him and you’re teary eyed as you cling to him, begging for him to stay in you. It always starts with a quick text, telling you to meet him wherever he needs. No one bats an eye when you waltz in during practice, lix beckoning you over with a crook of his fingers. When you reach him, he’s pulling you into his lap, your bottoms already tossed to the floor. You’re not surprised when no one reacts at Felix’s moans as he fills you up.

“Sorry angel, just need to cum in you okay?,” he pants, hips already rutting up into you. You can only offer him a small hum, brain going a little foggy with him inside you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, tucking your face into the side of his neck as you feel the pleasure overtake you. 

“Promise I’ll be quick, angel,” he says, though he knows he’s lying. The thing with Felix is he knows what having his cock does to you. He knows he makes you desperate, mindless even. And he lives for it. The way you turn into a bunny in heat, Hips working desperately against his, though he’s not sure you even realize that you’re moving. Not with the way you stare up at him with a dazed look in your eyes. He can see the way all the thoughts float out of your head, all thoughts except fucking him that is. Hiccuping whimpers accompanying the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Five minutes, Lix,” Minho calls out from the other side of the practice room. You whine at Minho’s words, clenching around Felix, hands clinging onto him impossibly tighter. 

“How do you expect me to not stay in her all day when she’s clenching like that,” he grunts, hands gripping at your soft sides. You keen, your hips dragging along his in teasing circles. 

“Lixie,” you bat your eyelashes at him, mouth in a small pout. 

“Want me to stay in our cunt all day, sweetheart?” He says, hips lifting to meet yours.

“Yes, please Lixie. Please I’ll be good,” you beg, eyes sparkling with tears. How could he not give in to your pleas when you look at him like that?

Felix flips you onto your back, a soft gasp escaping you as he presses your legs to your chest, exposing your fluttering walls to him and everyone else in the room. He knows they’re watching, they always do when they get the chance.

“Greedy fucking girl, you just love being used don’t you?” he rasps, slipping back into you with ease. Felix sets an unrelenting pace, somehow hitting deeper inside you with this angle. 

“Yes! Love it!,” you cry out, face contorting into a blissed out expression. Your hands scrabble to hold onto something, settling on his arms as he holds you in place.

He smirks, glancing up to watch the way the members watch the scene in front of them. He lives for the way the members' eyes darken when they watch you. You’re far too gone to notice the way the members are staring holes into you. 

“You’re so far gone angel, you don’t even care that everyone is watching you, hmm?” he teases, tilting your face to watch the members. You whine, walls fluttering at the dark stares they all give you.

“Only care about getting this pretty cunt stuffed, doesn’t even matter where, either does it?”Felix coos, turning your attention back to him. 

“No, just need to be full all the time,” you slur, mind growing foggier by the second. Felix takes notice, picking up his pace easily. 

“I know angel, promise we’ll keep you full. Why don’t you cum for me, hmm? Show them how pretty you look when you make a mess, yeah?” he says, hand reaching down to rub at your clit. The pleasure is heightened with how sensitive you are. It doesn’t take long before you’re sent straight off the edge. You cum with a broken cry, tensing in his hold. Felix lets out an appreciative moan, filling you up with his own cum. You’re still shaking as you cum down from your high, letting Felix dote over you as if he didn’t just give you an earth shattering orgasm.

SEUNGMIN

There’s only one way to describe Seungmin’s time with you: sweet torture. Seungmin’s a hard dom through and through. When he agreed to the arrangement of using you that when you’re with him it's all about him.

For instance the outfit you wear as you stroll into the company building. Skirt barely covering the tops of your thighs, top showing off your plush sides just enough for his hands to fit over them, even the platformed shoes he bought you as a gift just so you can be closer for him to leave marks against your shoulder.

Seungmin loves watching you walk into the practice room all dolled up for him. He’s quick to pull you over to him, hands grasping at anywhere he can get his hands on you. You’re just as desperate as you reach up, pressing yourself as close as you can get. 

It isn’t long before he has you writhing in his grasp. The songs he was memorizing are long forgotten as he presses against your backside. He makes you cross your legs over the other, hands braced against the piano as he uses just your thighs to get off.

“Minnie! You’re being mean!” you whine, still twisting your hips to have him slip inside you. 

He clicks his tongue, pinching your side as he angles your hips higher, his cock now deliberately hitting your clit with every stroke. You can only moan, face contorting at the sparks of pleasure that shoot through your core.

“No, you’re just being a greedy slut,” he grunts. Seungmin smirks, leaning down to drag his lips up to your ear.

“This isn’t about you. Let me have my fun and maybe I’ll be nice enough to cum in you, okay?” he says, hips continuing their unrelenting pace. 

You whine, hands twitching with the need to grip him, but the pleasure is already making it hard to keep yourself upright. You know the second you let go of the piano, your body will crumple to the floor. Instead you lean your body back into his chest, his name falling from your lips in a desperate mantra.

Seungmin isn’t handling this any better.  He’s thankful your back is facing him, that way he can hide the way his own face twists in pleasure. Seungmin’s mouth hangs open in a low moan, cock twitching at the feeling of your soft thighs hugging his cock. He can’t help but love the way you look falling apart in front of him. A stark contrast to how you pranced through the door, offering him a bright smile as if you didn’t know exactly where you’d end up. Clothes half pulled off, hands clutching at the top of the piano, no doubt ruining the sheet music he’d spent hours adding notes to. And it's all for him. All he has to do is send you a text, and you’re ready to be used by him. That thought alone is what pushes him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he mutters out, the only warning he can give you, unable to stop himself from cumming. You gasp at the feeling of warmth leaking against you, still partially delirious from the pleasure.

“Minnie!” you sob as you look down, watching his cum leak across your thighs, hitting the top of the piano. His hips still buck against you, hands keeping you firmly in place while he rides out his own high. 

“You said if I was good-” you cry, falling back against him again, core throbbing with the need to have him in you. 

“You were good, but I never said when I would cum in you pup,” he laughs against your neck. He finally pulls himself away from you, leaving you to balance on your legs that feel like they’ve turned to jello. You shiver glancing up at him with teary eyes as you struggle to regain your composure. He only grins at your pout, hand reaching up to smooth out your top.

“Maybe later. Now fix your clothes and let’s go.”

JEONGIN

Innie, you’ve come to find out over the past few months is quite literally insatiable.

Jeongin for the most part doesn’t call on you for stress relief, and when he does it’s usually quickies in the form of handjobs or using your mouth right before he leaves for a shoot. But the first time you joined them on tour was something you’ll never forget. It was the night after their third show and he’d texted you to come to his hotel room. You’d found him sitting on his bed, towel lazily wrapped around his hips as he palmed himself. 

“Come here. Need you, now.” he calls out, flicking the wet hair out of his eyes. The way his sharp gaze watches you leaves no room for arguing. You stand in between his legs, ready to drop to your knees when he tugs you to him, manhandling you underneath him. You let out a quiet gasp as you look up at him with wide eyes. He smirks, leaning down to whisper in your ear, 

“What is it? Didn’t think I could be like Channie or Minho Hyung, hmm? His voice tickles your ear. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, his grin widens in response. His next words send shivers down your spine. 

“Trust me baby, I’m a lot worse."

The room is filled with the sound of Jeongin’s hips meeting your ass, but to be quite honest you can’t hear much of what’s going on around you. With your face pressed into the sheets, the only sound you can really hear is your muffled cries as Jeongin uses you. The robe belt Jeongin had woven around your wrists and ankles digs into your skin from the hogtie position he keeps you in. Your arms are tied behind your back, fists clenched at the small of your back. Your legs tremble with the need to close them, instead they’re forced to stay spread and bent at the knee. Your muscles ache from how long you’ve been held like this. 

You know you’ll be sore and bruised tomorrow morning, but with the way Jeongin thrusts into you can’t find it in you enough to care right now.

“Innie- fuck, Innie please,” you sob out, as he drives his cock into your sweet spot relentlessly. 

He grips the knot at the base of your hips, tugging on it until your front arches off the bed. 

“Go on, you can cum again. Just know I’m gonna keep fucking you until I’m done,” he says, his hips somehow driving into you harder.

The scream you let out is embarrassing. But the orgasm that rips through you has you shaking harder in Jeongin’s hold. Your walls spasming as you feel yourself gushing around Jeongin’s cock. You can feel the wetness that coats your inner thighs from you squirting. You’re still writhing in Jeongin’s hold. Little aftershocks make you cry into the sheets with each of Jeongin’s thrusts. He groans, hips slowing to a shallow grind as he watches you cum around him. He leans down, panting into your ear heavily. Despite the intense orgasm you just felt, you can’t help the way you twitch at his next words. 

“Look at that… I didn’t know you could squirt baby, how many times do you think I can make you do that for me before the sun comes up?” he asks, grinning at the way your body responds to him.

Dividers by : @/cafekitsune

#stray kids reactions #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz reactions #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #writing #✍🏼

[aizenat]

Watching this conversation/podcast of black millennials (and at least one black gen xer lol) talk about the drake v Kendrick beef (hilariously filmed before the release of family matter and subsequent songs) and something someone pointed out that, again, this shows how whites just don’t understand Black ppl, which is how Euphoria when it came out had a similar effect as Ether when that came out.

And the reason the guy is saying that is because he’s saying Nas said in Ether what the streets were already saying about Jay. So yes, it wasn’t anything “new,” it wasn’t tea or gossip or anything, but rather a collection of all the shit and problems ppl had with Jay thrown into a diss. And like all the annoying whites in the tags being like “didn’t we already know Drake was a dick” are missing the point!

Yes we do know he’s a piece of shit! I’ve been a day one hater: even before best I ever had, when I saw jimmy from degrassi not in a wheelchair but hanging around Wayne and them, and I was like “no way this nigga trynna be a rapper for real. Jimmy it was a plot point in the show to write you out, not something for you to do irl.” I’ve NEVER taken that fool seriously. And so as I saw how he moved, every misstep, every predatory and misogynistic statement, how he treats black culture and shit is literally issues I had with him since day motherfucking one.

And people still made that nigga famous!

Some ppl have a weird effect for reasons I don’t feel like going into where it doesn’t matter how shitty they are, they still have mass fans. Trump, Chris Brown, Tory Lanez, etc. So calling them out when they fuck up doesn’t do anything. Especially for these rap niggas.

And so when someone like Kendrick comes around and drops a diss track saying literally everything I’ve been feeling about Drake for 15 years, yes imma get hype on it. Yes, I’m going to gas it up and say true. It’s not getting the evidence together to present to a jury like whites think a diss track is: a diss track is the fucking indictment. It’s the jury saying “that nigga guilty” and the aftermath of the release isn’t to discuss if Drake is guilty but to say “now that we’ve determined he’s guilty, what should the punishment be?”

If you don’t understand that about hip hop/rap culture and diss tracks, then literally stfu about this situation. You literally have nothing of worth to add to the conversation and you obviously don’t hang around enough Black ppl in the fucking culture to speak on it. Period.

#whites stop commenting on black culture challenge #kendrick lamar #drake #aubrey graham #kdot #Kendrick diss

[tiredfox64]

Dad bi han headcanons?

Father, Father I Crave Violence

Prior notes: FATHER, INTO YOUR HANDS I COMMIT MY SPIRIT! I feel like you thought of this cause I reblogged that artist’s drawing and I will not say their name cause I don’t like involving them in my bs.

Who’s your daddy?: Bi-Han, congratudolences he got you pregnant!

Warnings ‼️: HE IS THE FATHER *camera man goes crazy*

Big, muscly, meanie (Regular Bi-Han)

He needs a son. That’s the heir to the Lin Kuei right there.

When the kid is five he will be trained to defend himself.

Don’t worry he won’t bring the kid on missions he’s not dense.

He has a soft spot for his children. Though he is cold those are still his blood children. He wants to take good care of them.

He won’t let any of his assassins take care of or even hold his child.

Bi-Han can be a little paranoid, he worried someone will hurt his child. He can never be too careful. Once the child is old enough to defend themselves then they will have some freedom.

That motherfucker (literally) will be pumped to see if his children gain his ice abilities. If they gained your abilities that’s ight too.

The max is two. No more no less. Don’t matter if it’s two brothers or a brother and sister.

Okay but what about a girl?

Overprotective and overbearing oh gosh.

If anyone in the Lin Kuei takes a peak at her they are getting smacked. Poor guys.

Bi-Han will teach her how to defend herself as well. She needs to know. He will even give her a knife to protect herself (which you take away cause she is only five)

If the son comes first it’s his duty as the older brother to protect his sister from any nasty boys.

When they seem ready (like maybe 15) they can start going out for missions. Simple ones at first. Gotta build them up.

I know I said he will teach them to defend themselves but he will teach them to fight eventually. Yes there is a difference.

His daughter wants to play. Ehhhhh, fine, just because she is crying. But he will be taking it too seriously.

“That’s not how you pour tea.” “Your dolls can’t have multiple partners.” “The dog can’t talk.” You have no imagination sir.

What do you mean they need toys? He didn’t have many toys back when he was a kid. Give them a stick and a rock.

Fine, he’ll get them toys. Only a few though. They need to be focused on other things.

Puberty is gonna suck for everybody involved.

Pads? Yes. Tampons and diva cups? What are those?

You know what helps with cramps, working out. Yeah he’s that kind of dad. They don’t need Advil they got this.

The boys are fighting again. Now Bi-Han is yelling again. Has your tinnitus kicked in yet?

He doesn’t care what they are into they just better be loyal to the Lin Kuei.

Titan Bi-Han (y’all know why I made it separate)

It’s very similar.

He isn’t too overbearing he is still overprotective.

There are too many sharp things in the temple oh lord hide them!

Bi-Han, they can’t even walk how are they gonna reach the butter knives on the tall counter.

He is serious but I think he would crack a dad joke or two.

“Dad, I’m hungry.” “Hi hungry, I’m the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster.” FEED THE KIDS STUPID!

Please don’t take my pupusas away cause I made that joke.

They will be begging him to teach them to fight. He is hesitant but eventually gives in.

Two? Why stop there? If you’re comfortable he would like a few more. Don’t worry he’s not asking for six.

Spoils them! Spoils them to death! His daughter gets anything she wants. His son can have that puppy. They just have to share NO ARGUING!

Only the most trusted of his clan can take care of his children, aka Kuai Liang and Tomas.

Puberty will never be easy in any timeline.

Pads and tampons? Yes. Diva cup? Still don’t know what that is.

Heating pads, medicine, working out, curling up into a ball on the floor, he understands his daughter is in pain.

The boys can’t fight in front of their dad or else he will get scary.

He cares about what they like and will get concerned over some things. I don’t think he will appreciate them liking technology or having a fascination with Volcán de fuego (cause like I never did I promise). They just need to stay loyal to the Lin Kuei or else they will break his heart.

After notes: I did this one earlier cause my dad said some crazy shit this morning. He said marmalade is disgusting and strawberry jam was created by the devil. The only good kind and only kind there should be is grape. And then he went on about how he knew someone who would ask him to drink a bottle of bourbon and find Jesus. I told him “dad, if you drink a whole bottle of bourbon you don’t find Jesus, Jesus finds you”. Very strange morning but the breakfast was good. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #bi han x you #bi han x reader #bi han mk #bi han sub zero #bi han mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero x you #sub zero x reader #sub zero #headcanon

[fyeahitsdowntime]

You know what pisses me off about this K vs Drake shit?

It’s the pretentious ass white people on this sight who LOVEEE to see niggas fighting. If this strikes a nerve then it’s for you, sweetheart.

It’s something on a deeper DNA scale, that evokes this anger in me. It’s not even the people who actually listen to either, it’s the not understanding the nuances, the culture part. Kendrick and most rappers hate Drake because not only does his shitty non-lyrical music and sneak disses EVERYBODY all the time, even legends like common, mos def, etc. and still charts while also claiming to be the best rapper alive. His sick ass even bought tupacs ring. On top of all of that he is a fucking predator.

Another thing I see going on is people saying 🤓☝🏻”Kendrick had the rapist Kodak Black on his album! Hypocrite!” Which is true, kb settled out of court in 2016 on a sexual assault case, and it was distasteful to have him on MMATBS, but he’s been on a plethora of other songs, been in the media for other shit too. I hate him equally as I do drake.

Needless to say our black community, the Hip-hop community has many distasteful figures such as Dr. Dre, some say Tupac but I have a different opinion on him and what happened to him, NWA, etc. I could sit here and name a hundred people but I won’t. It’s just irritating to see people who don’t even know who the fuck Kendrick Lamar is saying stupid shit.

His whole last album was him critiquing himself because he’s not perfect, especially in his relationships and family matters (no pun intended) I think people have to get out of this squeaky clean image in their heads of what a famous person should be. He’s a fucking guy from Compton, grew up as the weird kid in the corner, writing poetry, in the hood surrounded by violence, in the violence himself, and actively challenged himself to go against what he could’ve been to what he is now. Literally his whole persona is “I am not perfect, I am not god.”

AND PLEASE STOP WITH THOSE BULLSHIT ASS DOMESTIC ASSAULT CHARGES, IT NEVER HAPPENED IT WAS FROM A TABLOID, 12 YEARS AGO.

ugh.

I hate this site for even finding out about this. Y’all take stuff and run, don’t even know more than 2 albums. The fact that y’all don’t even know who the hell he is and he won a Pulitzer Prize for his DAMN album says enough. Now stfu and sit back, watch from the bleachers because this isn’t about y’all. If you don’t know what TPABF is, S80, or at least GKMC, then please, just put your Taylor swift and Harry styles back on and sit the fuck back.

Out here making cheat sheets on the drama. Wtf????

#kendrick lamar #drake

[hippolotamus]

another installment of what I'm calling the cleopatra series. this time from Eddie's POV because I got in my Buddie feels. part 1 here 💙

late for the love of my life | 7x06 Coda | 912 words | G

“Hey, how was it?” Marisol wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a peck on the lips. 

Eddie barely suppresses the urge to flinch and turn away. Which is maybe a tad dramatic, except for the way it isn’t. Because the past 24 hours have held more than a few revelations. None of which Eddie is ready to share. 

Despite the layers of clothing between them, his skin tingles and crawls where she touches him. If he didn’t have years of experience being exposed to fluids, substances and people he didn’t want anywhere near him, he thinks he would have wrenched away from her by now. No, he definitely would have. But he’s a professional at hiding his personal reactions, both on and off the job. 

Yes, he’s made progress in therapy, but the instincts to hide himself, to put up walls and masks, are still easily activated. Handy for moments like now, when he can’t escape his girlfriend. Or when he has to smile big for the crowd and pretend the perpetual feelings for his best friend don’t exist when said best friend barrels back into the room all lovestruck and covered in soot from his boyfriend. 

“It was good. Really nice, actually.” That much is true. Because it was. Honestly, the whole hospital room chic was perfectly Maddie and Chim. 

“Nice?” She asks in a teasing tone, squeezing tighter and clinging to his torso like a koala. 

His breathing is acceptably even but the urge to peel her off, to tell her that she should probably go home because his heart rate is skyrocketing, his fingers and toes are tingling, and he’s beginning to feel claustrophobic is anything but. His built in panic mode suspects there isn’t enough Jell-o in the universe to undo this. Again, dramatic, but he thinks he’s within his rights to think so right now. 

“Yeah, I-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut and inhales as deeply as he can manage. “Y’know, I’m, uh, still feeling a little worse for wear from last night. I should-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, just points vaguely in the direction of his bedroom. 

Marisol’s relaxed ‘welcome home’ look turns concerned as she furrows her brow and holds the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stay? I should probably stay over in case you need–” 

“Really,” he interjects, backing out of her hold, “I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep it off, I think. You should go. Home. To your place.” Smooth, Diaz. “I mean, because I’ll probably be restless, y’know?”

“I can sleep on the cou-”

“No,” he says more forcefully than intended. He should be grateful she wants to stay and take care of him. He should. He is. But not the couch. Not… Buck’s bed. His place. Their place.

“Oh.” She takes a step back and he should probably feel worse about the way she looks so dejected. “I, um, I understand. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, talk tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to reset. When the twin alcohol and love hangovers have hopefully, finally died off. When I’m not seeing an endless mental projection reel of reminders like Or, y’know, you could have mine. Then why are you in hospital jail? Stay with me, Buck. Him choking on blood. You saved him. Abby. His fiancee is Abby. Showoff. My blood on him. Hey, Buck. You think you’re expendable. They’re all dead. I, uh, misunderstood the assignment. Three minutes and seventeen seconds. She sees me. It was a date. 

The front door clicks in the latch and he immediately turns the deadbolt, noting how his pulse drops to a debatably more normal range. He wants to settle on the couch, under the covers in his bed, both and neither all at the same time. In the end he migrates to the kitchen, which really shouldn’t surprise him. 

He runs his fingers over the backs of the chairs, circling around until he’s standing between the table and main counter. Am I one of the things that makes you sad? So now am I allowed to ask how you are? But you do eventually - you process it? 

Eddie turns toward the fridge, drawn to Shannon’s photo. He plucks it from under the magnet, running his thumb over the glossy print. 

“Can never quite get my timing down, can I?” He huffs out a wet chuckle. “God, I wish you were here right now. I could really use someone to talk to.” 

If it wasn’t after midnight he would probably drive himself to the cemetery to sit on the stone bench. To talk to someone that can’t talk back but would nonetheless tell him what an idiot he is. To unfairly water her grave with tears shed because he always thinks he has more time. You might have noticed I almost died. Again. And then I thought, this is it. This is the last day of my life. We’re all going to die alone. That’s what she said to me and Hen. 

Truthfully he’s not sure who he’s thinking of more — Shannon or Buck — as he slides to the floor, still clutching her picture, beginning to sob and shake as the words I love you so much flash like a neon reminder of his poor timing. Does it really matter? Because either way he’s missed his chance. 

But I guess it’s your mess now. 

Part 3 (Buck's POV)

#hippo writes #911 spoilers #i guess? #tw marisol #coda fic #911 7x06 #yes another one #eddie diaz #he's a sad boi #the cleopatra series #buddie ficlet #kinda #in a way #if you squint

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

🎉 Congrats on the 1k followers! 🎉

For a possible fic promt:

D, 🎸, 🤣🥵, 🎀

Thank you so much, here's some horny crack for you! 🥰🥳

A little tied up

Rated: E

Words: 995

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Established relationship; Awkward sexual situations; Idiots in love; Very slight knife kink

Eddie thought he knew what pain was. 

Being chomped on by a flock of feral demon bats while fully conscious is an experience he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. And trust him, he has a lot of enemies, what with half the town still convinced he’s a devil-worshiping, cheerleader-murdering psychopath. 

Eddie also thought he knew humiliation. 

Hell, he needed help peeing in those first few weeks in the hospital. His dick has been touched by more people than he is comfortable admitting - and isn’t that something for a chronically bitchless, triple-senior D&D nerd?

Point is, if anyone had asked before today, Eddie would’ve boldly claimed there was nothing in the pain and humiliation department strong enough to make him even bat an eyelash. 

Turns out he was wrong. 

“Fuuuck,” he whines, hands white-knuckling the bedsheets. His head, heavy from craning his neck, thuds back into the pillow. “What the hell is taking so long? Take it off, take it off, take it-” 

“I’m trying, okay?” Steve snaps. He has stopped laughing, which … okay, Eddie appreciates he’s taking this seriously, but he absolutely does not like that brow furrow. That's Steve Harrington's trademark ‘we're royally fucked but I'm gonna keep it together to not freak anyone out’ brow furrow. “The damn knot won't come loose.” 

He tugs at said knot as if to demonstrate, and Eddie almost jerks off the bed as a jolt of pain zaps from the base of his cock all the way up his spine. 

“Jesus fuck, be careful!” he barks, but Steve stays unimpressed. 

“Hold still,” he scolds, voice deep and stern. One large hand grips Eddie’s knee and pushes his thighs further apart. It's very close to how Eddie envisioned this going, and his cock gives a treacherous little twitch. “Don't know why you thought this was a good idea.” 

“I told you,” Eddie hisses through another bout of pain. “It was supposed to be a surprise. I wanted to do something special for our anniversary.” 

Steve gives him a look. 

“So you put a bow around your dick.” 

Eddie can practically feel himself blushing, but he’s okay with that. Any blood that’s not in his tortured dick is good blood. 

Steve is still staring at him like he’s wondering if the bat rabies did fuck with his head after all. Eddie slaps his hands in front of his face and groans. 

“I thought it would be fun,” he whines. 

It was fun, at first. Steve’s dumb, surprised face when he entered the bedroom to find Eddie clad in nothing but the ribbon adorning his cock in a snug little bow. The way Steve’s pupils blew wide and fuzzy, the punched-out little growl as he crashed their lips together. The way he all but threw Eddie down onto the bed, smothering him with his own body, cock already hard and straining against the confines of his jeans. 

It was fun, and fantastic, and so, so, very hot. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Because, see, Eddie is a moron. A moron who didn’t account for the fact that the male sexual organ tends to swell when aroused, turning a ribbon that sat nice and snug two minutes ago into a hellish torture device - shiny satin clenching like a vice around his sensitive base. He can feel his heartbeat throb in his tip. He thinks there’s some pubes caught under the knot. Jesus. 

When he peers out from between his fingers, Steve is still looking at him with that exasperated expression. 

“Okay,” Eddie relents. “I admit it wasn’t my best plan. Now … Any ideas on how to get us out of this mess?” 

“Us?” The corners of Steve’s mouth twitch. “I’m not the one who’s strangulating their own dick, dude.” 

Eddie groans. “Stevie, please! I’m scared it’ll fall off if we wait any longer, I’m not even kidding. You don’t want my dick to fall off, do you?” 

Steve actually has the decency to look mildly panicked. 

“No! No, of course not. I just dunno what to-”

He trails off and pinches his nose, lips moving in silent thought. Then, he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like fuck this and jumps off the bed. Eddie gawks at him as he starts rummaging through his clothes. 

“What are you-” he starts to say, but then the light catches on the item Steve has just pulled from his pocket, and the words wheeze to a stop. 

Steve flicks open his pocket knife, kneeling back on the bed. His face is stony with determination. 

“It's no use,” he says. “I'm gonna cut it off.” 

“The fuck?” Eddie squawks, skittering backwards on his ass until the headboard stops him. “You're not cutting off my dick!” 

Steve stares at him. 

Eddie stares back. 

“Oooh,” he breathes. “You mean the bow.” 

Steve huffs a laugh. “No shit, genius,” he teases, but his voice is fond. “Why would I cut off your dick? I still need it. Now stop squirming.” 

It's weirdly thrilling, the cold bite of the blade sliding between his skin and the ribbon. Eddie swallows past the bundle of nerves in his throat and forces himself to stay very still. 

There's a tug, and a sharp flash of pain as the ribbon pulls taut, and then- 

“Gotcha,” Steve cheers, dangling the ribbon in the air like some kind of prize. 

Eddie sags back into the sheets. “Fuck, finally.” 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, chucking the bow and the knife aside so that he can bracket Eddie with his arms and lean in for a kiss. “What do we learn from this? No more ribbons.” 

One of his hands slips between them, starting to pump Eddie’s still sensitive cock with gentle pressure. 

“No more ribbons,” Eddie agrees around a moan. “But we may have to talk about the knife again.”

And if Steve’s grip gets a little more harsh at that, his kisses a little more hungry? Well, it looks like they'll have some fun after all.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets