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thisthatpinkvenom · 10 months

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IT'S SWEATPANTS SEASON, OH MY!

JOCK!SAN / BAND GEEK!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: Autumn has arrived; the season of pumpkin spice lattes, corn and—unfortunately for you—grey sweatpants. those pesky little things have attached themselves to your boyfriend's legs like glue, and you're having a hard time keeping your mind out of the gutter.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, fluff, humor(??), smut, smut, smut

⤏ Content: jock!San, band geek!fem reader (I know, I'm so original), you're referred to as "sweet potato" once—don't ask, just go with it, established relationship!au, college!au, non-idol!au

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): dry humping, unprotected piv (it's fiction, guysss. use your rubbers and stay safe!), creampie, just lots of build up because I'm down bad for a man in grey sweatpants 🙈

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

The mosaic of orange and yellow was striking below the dull blue clouds as the trees continued to shed their leaves. Your eyes swayed with the leaf you'd been watching descend its way patiently to the ground while you sat on the bench, shoulders jittering in the midst of the decreasing temperature. Your hands peeked out from the ends of your sleeves before rubbing together, the crisp morning air making your fingers tingle in the cold. You should've worn a thicker jacket, is what you mulled over in your head that you hadn't even noticed San until he enveloped his own padded jacket over you. The gust of warmth awoke you from your reverie and you hummed, meeting eyes with him when he lowered himself into a squat.

"You didn't have to come here," he said, a dimple indenting his cheek as he curled one corner of his mouth upward. After pulling the hood over your head, he tenderly brushed his thumb across your cheek. "I know you're not a morning person."

You struggled to fight a yawn until you decidedly gave in, white fog manifesting in your breath.

"I want to support you," you murmured. You were too busy blinking away your fatigue to notice how he looked on in nothing but fondness. Your conscience warped your thoughts when you scanned over the jacket engulfing your frame, your lips forming into a small pout. "Mm…aren't you going to be cold?"

San took a glance at his attire; he's only got a windbreaker left to keep him warm. Nonetheless, he shook his head and insisted he was used to practicing like this on the field. Despite wearing less than you and the flushed red on his nose and cheeks, you couldn't really tell if he felt the effect of the weather as much as you did. You couldn't fathom how he had the motivation to get up at the ass crack of dawn to run around with a ball, doing drills with his teammates while Coach Kim rapid-fired pointer after pointer without a stop to catch his breath. It truly was admirable how smiley he was at 7:00 a.m. without consuming any caffeine.

Coach Kim sauntered along the grass before he blew his whistle and commanded the team to group together. Your boyfriend looked over his shoulder before turning back to you, eyes squinting as the sun's orange glow began to blanket over the field.

"Well, gotta start soon," he observed. "Stay warm and if you're sleepy, just go back. I'm happy you're here but don't force yourself to stay. All right, Sweet Potato?"

You made a small noise of confirmation, unfazed by the odd affectionate nickname you had gotten used to over time. The heat of his palms skimmed over your ears as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before standing tall. But what you didn't anticipate—whoa—had really slapped you awake right then and there. For the mere five seconds you'd managed to capture a mental image, time felt as if it'd been stretched to hell when your boyfriend's crotch had leveled with your eyes. You hadn't realized the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and now that you've gotten a face full of…that, you're acutely aware.

You're shook to the core.

Your gaze trailed after his jogging figure, following the path up his long and toned legs to his cute little bu—okay, whoa! It's only 7:15 in the morning. You had no business indulging in these thoughts right now. Get it together.

Oh, he's facing your general direction now.

Are you staring at it too much? It's starting to feel a little warm, all of a sudden; it's the jacket, isn't it? Just how long is this going to take?

You're trapped on this bench. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since practice started and Coach Kim was rambling on about the importance of warming up while you're glued to your seat, pathetically staring at your boyfriend's dickprint while he seemingly had no idea. God, you felt like a perv. Even though he assured you that it was okay, you didn't want to just up and leave. This was a relationship built on give and take, and there were one too many times when he watched your concerts while knowing little to nothing about orchestral music.

You'll just suffer, then.

"Just fuck him."

"Lisa!" you chided, pushing three fingers against your friend's arm as she rolled her eyes.

"What?" She swirled her tongue around the glob of chocolate ice cream sitting on top of her waffle cone. "He's a hot, charming guy. Your own boyfriend makes you horny and that's supposed to be a problem now?"

"Oh, my gosh, I just…" you trailed off, eyes searching elsewhere for your thoughts. "I'm not used to being all"—you waved your hands disorientedly in front of you—"dirty…minded. He's the one who usually initiates it."

"Sex?"

"Everything physical, really," you clarified. "I just feel like if I start it, it's just going to be off—and awkward."

You sighed. "How am I going to get through this season?"

"Oh, yeah, the sweatpants; that's what's been making you a sex freak," Lisa recalled with an airy laugh. "Those things are like lingerie for guys. Especially the grey ones…oomf. 'Dicktoria's Secret' is real," she snorted.

You gave her a blank stare.

"Look, just be honest," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—which it was. "You really think any guy is gonna find it offensive that his girl's drooling over his bulge?"

"I wasn't drooling—"

"You will be."

"Oh, my gosh."

You weren't aware that having a footballer-boyfriend automatically signed you up for three months' worth of almost nothing but sweatpants. You also didn't know how many he had stashed in his wardrobe until now—it's good to know he didn't wear the same pair everyday. But this meant he had enough pairs to flaunt his dick outline in your face whenever you were together.

Not good for your cavewoman brain.

Fingers danced along your neck and you squirmed at the intrusion, meeting eyes with San's own with your face sporting a frown. The same fingers belonged to the arm lazing comfortably around your shoulders, both of you having snuggled together into mush on his couch while you binge-watched one of your favorite shows. You whined his name in annoyance when you're kicked out of your thoughts.

He chortled. "Sorry, I just—it's Buffy and you don't even seem that into it. Is everything okay?"

Let's see: it's a Friday night. His roommate, Mingi went to visit his parents for the weekend and you're all alone with your hot, charming boyfriend™ who's clearly gone commando under his sweats. And you're supposed to be watching Buffy slay vampires…how?

"Y-Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" you stammered.

He hummed in feigned ponder, and the knowing smirk surging its way onto his lips would've sent a churn in your belly if you'd actually caught sight of it.

"You know that my eyes are up here, right?"

Your eyes snapped up in panic, and silence was the only response you had sitting on your tongue. You wanted to hide in a cave, where you could wallow in embarrassment without disturbance. Your own boyfriend had just caught you ogling his crotch like a perv.

San tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a smile at how you resembled a deer in headlights. "You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Your mouth was stuck in a battle between opening and closing as you desperately searched for the right words. With a defeated sigh, your face fell into the safety of your palms.

"This is so embarrassing," you groaned, words muffled against your hands.

"Hey," he laughed softly, grabbing your wrists in an attempt to retract your hands away from your face. "It's not a big deal"—you sighed when the light from the standing lamp washed into your eyes—"it's cute."

You gave him a funny look. "Cute," you stated, doubt laced in your tone.

"Yeah. Usually, I'm the one doing all the staring."

He scanned you up and down with a pondering pout on his lips, continuing on to ask, "It's the sweatpants, isn't it?"

"Do you have to state the obvious?" you whined.

"What? I just wanna make things clear, so I know what to wear for you," he teased. He shifted closer and smoothed a hand up your thigh. "I'll wear more for you."

If he felt the goosebumps on your skin, he didn't comment on them.

"You say it like it's lingerie," you quipped, recalling what Lisa said a few days ago. You're saying anything to distract yourself right now, but you crumbled easily whenever he touched you. And he knew it well, especially when his hand moved dangerously close to your pyjama shorts. You're not even sure if you were breathing.

"If it's gotten you like this, then I'd say it pretty much is."

He moved on to say, "I like it when you look at me like that."

Your expression was frozen. "Like what?"

San's eyes changed ever so slightly, his hand finally slipping between your squeezed thighs.

"Like you really want me."

Your thighs parted for him. "I…I do," you murmured.

"Oh, really? Where do you want me?"

"Where else?"

"I asked you first."

You made a quiet huff from your nose, looking down at his hand that's aching to pull your shorts down. "Inside"—you hesitated—"inside me. I-I would like it if we had sex…please?"

His lustful gaze turned softer, eyebrows raised high at your interesting way of words. While you, on the other hand, visibly grimaced. San found your eyes shutting tight and your nose scrunching up all too adorable, and without a doubt, he would've bitten your cheeks if he could.

With a chuffed smile, he hooked his fingers at the waistbands of your shorts and underwear, waiting for you to lift your hips. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's have the sex now."

You sulked at his incessant teasing, knowing well enough that he was purposefully expressing his words awkwardly. He laughed and assured you he would stop there, before grabbing your now half-naked body by the hips and having you straddle him. His fleece sweatpants were rough from the continuous use, giving you some nice sense of friction on your sensitive nub.

But above all that, you could feel the presence of his cock hiding beneath his pants, your pussy lips spreading the slightest on his erection. Your breath hitched as his hands made their way under your sweater, then your shirt; reposed comfortably at your hips as if they made home there. The pads of his fingers kneaded your skin as he looked up at you with expectant eyes.

"C'mon, get yourself off for me."

You waited with bated breath for nothing in particular—you'd just been momentarily distracted by his intense stare. Nodding too many times in the span of a second, you began to move your hips under the guide of his hands.

"Oh…"

There was a minor ache in your hips when he dug his fingers deeper in your skin, but you were too focused on the soft chafing of the fabric against your clit. It was getting you in the right place; so rough.

"Are you doing okay, Baby?"

You released an unstable sigh. "Y-Yeah."

He eyed the way your skin slightly folded with every move you made on his clothed cock, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Your motions grew faster and more impatient as you yearned for his mouth against yours, falling forward before your lips touched his.

He pushed you down each time he pulled you forward, earning growingly unsteady breaths from you into his mouth. You nearly choked when he bucked his hips upward, soft moans having no chance to escape when each were engulfed by his lips. You continued to do nothing but mindlessly grind your clit on him, humping his clothed cock like you were in desperate heat.

You didn't have the mind to warn him at this moment, unable to hear anything but your own moans until you were reaching your impending climax. And soon with trembling thighs, you came. Your skin grew rampant with shivers while your mind went elsewhere for the bite of a second.

San finally spared some mercy, separating from you with a thin string of spit connecting your lips before he's splitting it with a lick from his tongue. Stealing a glance at the dark spot you left on his pants, he served you a lustful, lopsided smile.

"This is what you'll get if you're just a little more honest with me," he chuckled.

Your ears grew hot at the sight of your arousal leaving its mark, adjusting yourself with your hands on the backrest behind him. You waited a few beats to gather your words before you muttered, "Well…can I be honest with you right now?"

"Of course."

San waited with patient eyes, his stare nearly melting you into goo while he thumbed your skin again.

"I'd like to have the sex—with your penis inside me…please."

He didn't try at all to suppress amusement at how you'd poked fun at yourself, hearty laughter producing from the pit of his belly. The dimples in his cheeks emerged from hiding as he grinned and nodded while pushing his waistband down, just enough for his cock to free itself. When his laughter had settled, he pressed a peck on the tip of your nose.

"Whenever you're ready."

You grabbed the base of his cock and pressed the tip against your entrance, pausing for a moment until you began to slowly but surely, sink entirely down his length. The stretch always started as an odd pressure between your walls, but once they'd completely swallowed his dick whole, it always left you wanting more. It's a feeling you don't think you could ever give justice to, if you were ever asked to describe it. He was just so right for you.

Your body gave into him as he pulled you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like a tightened belt. His hushed groans were made only for you, and hearing them continuously by your ear sent shivers down your spine.

"So warm," he muttered under his breath. He slid his bum further down the couch with you in his grasp and spread his legs wider. And when he was sure of the angle, he rolled his hips to meet yours, finding a steady pace with the most agonizingly unyielding thrusts. With every slam of his hips, your moans rendered into off-key whimpers as you melted under his guidance.

It felt like you were experiencing the hottest temperatures of the summer; your cheeks were burning and at moments, you felt like pushing away just from the sheer heat of your bodies entangled together.

A cuss left your boyfriend's lips when you gnawed on his shoulder, the salty tang of sweat grazing your tongue. And as if he wasn't holding onto you tightly already, he pulled you even closer as his cock rammed relentlessly, his rhythm growing sloppy when he began reaching his peak.

Your back felt like it'd been bent beyond repair as his cum coated your walls, the familiar twitching of his cock presented inside you. But he didn't stop there, he wouldn't until you came as well. And with his jaw clenched, he fucked into you like you were his toy, white rings of his own orgasm spilling with every move and making way to stain his pants.

"C'mon, Baby," he grunted. "Cum, f-fuck—cum, fucking c-cum…"

And in a few more thrusts, all you saw were specks of white among darkness. Your pussy spared no consideration on his sensitive cock and clenched as you trembled, the string of swears leaving his lips going deaf on your ears. Your limbs fell limp to pure exhaustion, despite how much you wanted to just wrap them around him like you were a koala and he was the tree. You wanted to mark your kisses all over his face but not even your lips were functioning right now as you barely managed to muster out a "thank you".

It was clear that it took a moment for San to register what you'd said, before he let out a breathy laugh. Not because he found something funny, it was just one of those laughs you got when you felt so euphoric—like getting your balls drained until you were a moaning mess; that kind of euphoric.

He kissed the top of your head, looking ahead at the TV where Buffy was still slaying vampires as usual. His dick stayed inside you, soft and relaxed in your warmth, neither of you in any rush to clean up.

"Mm…remind me to buy more of these sweats."

#ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #choi san smut #ateez san smut #san smut #kpop smut

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ghostlykeyes · 6 months

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HI honeyy I love ur blog!!! can u please write the headcanons for kayn and K/da f!reader...how do the two of them explain their relationship to their fans or maybe they give a moment in a few shows?

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: K/DA READER ♡ Female Reader ♡ SFW, with slight touching/sensuality ♡ No TWs ♡ THIS GOT SO LONG. I am willing to write more for this situation, since I had to cut a lot of my OG ideas to make room for what felt the most important...truly Kayn floods my mind and cannot be expressed or exhausted

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KAYN

When Akali dragged you along to one of Kayn's birthday parties, all she wanted was a drinking buddy to keep her company while Kayn was doing, quote, "birthday boy shit". She wasn't expecting you and Kayn to hit it off so well. She definitely wasn't expecting to find you two wedged in a coat closet, shoving your tongues down each other's throats. She had two words for Kayn as she linked her arm in yours and tugged you out from between a leather jacket and an 80's windbreaker; "Do. not."

But, after two torturously long weeks of you never shutting up about Kayn during rehearsals, and Kayn texting her so much she has to threaten to block him for any sort of peace and quiet (at all hours of the night and day, "hey gimme your hot friend's number", over and over AND OVER AND OVER), Akali comes around. She's just worried for you. Kayn's got quite the reputation, and she doesn't want him to fuck around with you and break your heart. But, she figures, you're both adults, so who is she to stand in the way of whatever you've got going on. So she eventually texts Kayn your number, but not without a warning; "you remember I know martial arts, yeah? and that I can totally kick your fucking ass? don't break my girl's heart dipshit".

On the whole, K/DA supports your budding relationship with Kayn. Even though he's a bit wild, the group's whole thing is about being individual and true to yourself—it seems hypocritical to tell you that you can't be caught holding hands with Kayn in line at Chipotle anymore for the sake of the band's image.

Heartsteel is a bit more tentative about you and Kayn. Alune's nervous to have Kayn dating such a high-profile star when Heartsteel has literally JUST broken onto the scene. But, this is Kayn, after all. What are they going to ask him to do, stop seeing you? He wouldn't listen. Besides, you do seem like a good influence in his life, and if the way his eyes light up whenever he sees your name pop up on his phone screen say anything, he's crazy about you. Eventually Alune sways other management and teams to embrace your relationship, as long as the two of you try to keep it relatively low-key.

If anyone ever implies he's with you to boost Heartsteel's fame or that he's trying to ride K/DA's coattails to the top, Kayn blows up. "We don't need shit from anybody," he sneers, "we're gonna climb to the top all by our fucking selves. Oh, and if you think (Y/N) would settle for anything less than a born rockstar? You're fucking stupid."

For your part, you're more subtle when publicly discussing your relationship with Kayn, but you still shoot down any ideas that he's with you for your status. "Heartsteel definitely doesn't need K/DA's help," you assert. "They're superstars and they're earning their spot on the music scene fair and square."

Kayn is your absolute fucking biggest superfan. He knows your lyrics front-to-back, he shows up to every single event he can, and he even uses Ezreal's Mercari account to snag rare merch that's being resold. Kayn tries to play it cool, but come on. You've seen the amount of posters he tries to hide in his closet. Only a fanboy has a collection like that.

There's hundreds of paparazzi photos of you two floating around on the internet, and Kayn's got a love-hate relationship with that fact. On the one hand, he loves being seen with you—what better way to claim you as his own than a photo of him literally grabbing your ass on the cover of a trashy gossip mag? On the other hand, can't a guy get some goddamn privacy? He hates that he has to share you with anyone, prying 'journalists' included. To make light of it, though, you two have started a little game. You send each other the wildest claims you can find about your relationship, trying to one up the other. Kayn's still winning with the article claiming that he's exercising some kind of mind-control to make you his girlfriend.

Flipping off the camera and open-mouth kissing you is one of Kayn's favorite poses to strike if he notices paparazzi lurking. For your part? You're just happy for his attention.

Kayn loves when you sneak into his shows. You usually have to wear a hoodie and go incognito to avoid getting mobbed, but don't worry, Kayn can pick you out of a crowd no matter what you're wearing. Sometimes, if you're standing close enough to the stage, he'll take off his shirt and toss it at you. He gets off on the attention, on thousands of people all-but-worshipping him, and if his favorite person is in the throng, knowing his worst parts but screaming for him alongside everyone else, just the same? Ego-boost of the fucking century. He may not express it to you often, but he really, really appreciates when you come see his shows.

Your packed schedules present a challenge, and Kayn despises the fact that you're often touring hours away from him. He still tries to talk to you as much as possible, even if it's not in person. Expect daily FaceTime calls, frequent Discord DM's, and around the clock blurry pictures of Kayn causing mischief.

Bless Akali's heart because Kayn absolutely harasses her about you. Whenever you're busy, he bugs her; "tell my gf to come back from the ded". Anytime you're on tour, he Venmoes her money to buy you your favorite fast food. She complains to you constantly—"tell your purse dog to stop yipping at me"— but really, she doesn't mind spoiling you by proxy. She's just happy that Kayn dotes on you so much.

Kayn jokes about making you late for rehearsal a lot—especially if he's halfway down your neck in a heated makeout sesh—but the truth is, that's never going to happen. Sure, he dicks around a lot, but he never gives less than one-hundred-and-ten to Heartsteel and he's not about to let you slack off, either. That includes making sure you get to your K/DA commitments on time (even if your neck is littered with hickies).

Kayn loves when you show him your choreography. He listens intently as you explain how to go through the steps, or complain about what you're struggling with. Often, he'll offer critique; "you look a little off-balance, try standing this way," or "Have you tried positioning a little more to the left?". Sometimes, these are genuine tips. Most of the time, though, he's just looking for an excuse to feel you up. What better way to sneakily touch your boobs than "suggesting" your chest needs to come out more?

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #kayn/reader #sheida kayn #k/da

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the-kr8tor · 8 months

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Pin my Heart

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Sexual innuendos, FLUFF.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Shielding yourself from the harsh rain with your windbreaker, you bravely wade through it, with one objective - convince Hobie to be your partner and model for your final project. The entire day you've been thinking if he still owes you a favour that you can maybe cash in, and you've got the perfect one. You think at least, You never know with Hobie really. You'd think after more than ten years of being friends, you can get a read on him, but alas he's quite unpredictable, maybe that's why you like him so much, he still has a few surprises up his leather sleeves even after years of friendship.

The loud music coming from Hobie's and his roommates' garage acts as a beacon for you to follow through the downpour.

Entering the band's domain, you wave at them since they wouldn't even hear your greeting with the loud music they're playing. You watch Hobie do his guitar solo as you wrangle your wet windbreaker off you, used to the loud music, you watch his long fingers expertly play with the guitar. You catch yourself staring, so you turn around to hang your soaking windbreaker on an empty shelf, using this excuse to hide your flustered state.

Hobie finishes his solo and you turn back around, avoiding the knowing stares from his bandmates.

"There's our number one fan!" Hobie screams, his ears still ringing from the loud guitar riffs, adrenaline still rushing through him.

"Hey, everyone" you awkwardly greet.

"Hi, shy girl!" Hobie gives you a hug, knowing he's all sweaty from rocking out.

You try to avoid his hug by putting your arms towards him, "Hobie! You're all sweaty! Stop!"

"Look who's talking! You're also wet!"

"Yeah! from the rain, not sweat, asshole!" You try to push him off, but he's too strong, damn him and his strong arms.

He hugs you fully, putting all his weight on you, chin on top of your shoulder, his breath tickles the shell of your ear. "How's your day?" The ringing in his ears finally stops, and he can finally talk without screaming at you.

"It would've been good, if I didn't get Hobie sweat all over me" you huff, leaning away so that Hobie couldn't hear your heart beat quickening.

"Don't act like you don't like it, sweets" he winks at you, releasing you from his grip, but he keeps his hands on your shoulders, you're an arms length away from him. He stares at you, head tilted to the side.

Yuri, their new drummer pipes up, she clears her throat, getting both your attention from eachother. "I'm making Tea, y/n you want some?"

"Yes please, thanks Yuri" You smile at the raven haired sweetly.

They all pile out of the garage, as Hobie manually closes the gate. He reaches up to grab the handle to pull it down, his shirt rides up, you ogle at the exposed skin on his hip. For the second time that day you look away immediately, finding the discarded drum kit more interesting than Hobie's toned back.

The loud crash of the gate closing signals you to look back at Hobie. A chill runs through your body, you wrap your arms around your shivering form.

"Shit, you're gonna catch a cold, let's get you warm, yeah?" Hobie rubs your arms. He grabs your backpack from the floor, and then slings his precious guitar on his back. Hobie leads you inside the house.

The house seems to be much cleaner than the last time you visited, probably thanks to Yuri. The warm aromatic smell of the tea hits you like a truck, you sneeze at the sudden change of smell, or it might just be from the rain soaking you.

"Bless you!" Ned, the band's bassist, yells from the living room.

"Thanks Ned" You sniff.

"C'mon, let's get you dry, don't want you getting sick on me now" Hobie hugs your shoulder with his free arm.

"That was one time, Hobart" you glare at him. He snickers at your comment.

You two stand in front of his door covered in various punk band stickers. He leads you in by your shoulders, and sits you down on the bed.

"I like the new song" you say as Hobie plugs in the portable heater, then places it in front of your shivering form.

"Thanks, we've been working on it for a while" he grabs a towel from his drawer, while rummaging through it for a clean shirt, he tosses the towel on your head.

"Is this even clean?" You get a whiff of soap from the towel, answering your question.

"I'm not a barbarian" Hobie takes off his shirt, before you could ogle at him once more, instead you watch the light on the heater flicker. It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless, so why are you feeling so flustered right now? "What do you wanna do today? Can't go out though 'cause of the rain"

"Can I ask you for a favour?" You try to be blunt, so you could get it over with, wrapping yourself in the towel.

Hobie leans against the door, hands on his hips, he's now wearing a grunge long sleeved shirt that's too big on his shoulders, you see a peek of his skin from the various tears of the shirt.

"Ah, already cashing in the favour I asked you last night?" He raises his pierced brow.

"Yeahh? It's - I need your help" You look at Hobie, determination in your eyes.

"Are you in some kind of trouble? Knew you had it in you" he smirks.

"No, it's not that, I need your help for my final project"

Hobie remembers the tea waiting for you, "hold that thought" he leaves the room, you try to call him back in, but he continues towards the kitchen, you huff but you still follow closely behind. There goes the privacy of convincing him.

Yuri, Ned and their other band mate, James stop their conversation in the kitchen when they see you both walk in.

"Alright, what kind of project?" He questions your intentions, while preparing your tea, your preferred mixture practically ingrained in his mind.

You swallow your nerves, "It's nothing too big really, I - no, we need to create a look that encompasses us both, and for you to model it in front of my class?" The end of your sentence unintentionally sounded like a question.

Hobie stops from pouring milk on your tea, you can't see the growing smirk on his face. You snuggle the towel closer to you. His housemates sip their tea simultaneously.

Hobie stirs your drink wordlessly. He composes himself, turns back towards you, still stirring your drink dramatically. He looks like a Bond villain who can't wait to tell you his master plan.

"What's in it for me?" There it is. He sips your drink loudly, knowing that he's annoying you with the sound.

He doesn't even like milk in his tea, you thought, you bite your tongue from saying it out loud, you need to sweeten him up, so you try playing the nice card.

"What do you want?" Saying it through gritted teeth, trying to give him your best smile, you probably look like you're in pain though.

"Hmm, let me think" he taps the teaspoon against the mug, it clinks against the ceramic, he then brings it to his mouth with a loud slurp, releasing it with a pop. He's doing this on purpose, you cringe at the sound.

"How about I do your laundry for a month?" You negotiate.

"Nah, I can do my own laundry"

"I'll wash your motorbike every month for the rest of the year" you counter.

"Y'know I never let anyone else touch my baby"

His band mates' heads move from Hobie back to you, like they're watching a tennis match.

"Ok, um I'll buy you a new guitar then!" Gotcha you finally got him, hook, line and sinker.

Hobie hums at that "hmm, tempting, but no"

Frustrated at his lack of cooperation, "You know what fine, James," you turn towards his equally punk friend, "you wanna do it with me instead?" You should have worded that out better.

Hobie widens his eyes at the unintentional innuendo, he smiles at the opportunity, "Hey! No! I'm the only one you can do it with!"

His friends snicker, James looks at you with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Maybe you can ask Yuri, She might be more of your type." Ned teases.

Yuri winks at you. They laugh, Hobie looks at you through his mug with a smile, watching your reaction.

"Guys, really? You're a child, Hobie" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Wait, I've got an idea" Yuri runs off to her room before you could question her.

You and Hobie stare at each other, while he drinks your tea.

"You're lactose intolerant, you're gonna shit yourself later" you grin at him.

"I have lactaid," he says matter-of-fact.

Yuri comes back and gives you a card. "Here"

"What's this? A business card?" You ask.

"Oi, are you actually trying to get a lawyer involved?"

"Yeah, a divorce lawyer, with how you both are acting like you're married" Yuri sarcastically says.

"It's a rewards card from starbucks?" You show Hobie.

Hobie comes closer to see, you both look at Yuri questioningly.

"Since Hobie here can't figure out what to ask of you in exchange for his cooperation with your thing," Yuri points to the both of you. "I figured you both need a rewards system. You poke out a hole in the card every time Hobie wants you to do something for him"

You look at the card with ten logos you can poke out, words printed neatly on top 'buy ten drinks and get a free one!' you look at the back - it expired a year ago.

"So he can ask for ten things then?"

"That's right, better than what you were suggesting, and you can keep track of it all," Yuri adds.

"Nah, I don't think this is better" Hobie declines.

"Do you have any better ideas, genius? Or do you want us to keep going back and forth" you shove the card in his free hand.

"Fine, say pretty please first, lovey" Hobie walks closer to you, the tips of your sock clad toes kisses his bare ones with how close you two have gotten. He looks down at you with a smile.

If you didn't like Hobie so much you would've asked James or any of his punk friends. Honestly you just want an excuse to spend more time with him. With how busy your schedule is, the same goes for Hobie, compared to when you were younger, you two barely hung out this year.

Hobie hopes this project of yours makes you two closer than ever, he also hopes when you finally graduate you get to finally hang out more, but it's a stretch.

You exhale, you look up at him through your eyelashes, "Pretty please, Hobie" you say sweetly. You don't break eye contact, you're not going down without a fight "with cherry on top?" You bat your lashes for added effect.

With how pretty you look up at him, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat, he tries to play it cool though, so he lightly shoves his mug on your chest, signaling his defeat.

You take the mug to your lips, and sip victoriously. You lean against the kitchen island.

"Does that mean I'm out of the picture then" James says, you all look at him unsure if he's joking or if he actually means it.

"Come off it, mate" Hobie shuts him down.

—

You're sweating bullets, wringing your fingers over the other, you wonder where in the world is Hobie? You sneak glances over your classmates and their chosen partners.

You see Flash next to a bombshell of a woman- all high heels, and manicured nails. Compared to his sporty style, he chose well. But judging from how the woman picks at her nails, and sighing every now and then, she definitely did not want to be there.

Your other classmates also chose well, the differences between their partners a stark contrast to each other.

Then there's you, sitting alone, without a partner. You busy yourself by sketching out a prototype of your project, instead of letting your thoughts freak you out.

The creaky doors open, like nails on a chalkboard. You stop in your tracks, head perking up at the sound, is it Hobie?

Your hope fades when your professor's heels echo around the room.

I'm gonna kill him, you internally curse.

Your professor looks around the room, her nose held up high. She opens her mouth to speak—

The door opens in a loud bang, the familiar leather boots strides in nonchalantly.

You would've sighed in relief, if not for Mrs. Williams glaring at Hobie.

"Sorry I'm late, teach" Hobie's hands are tucked inside his leather jacket, your professor's eyes narrow as she looks him up and down.

His eyes zeroes in your form. He smiles lopsidedly, Mrs. Williams follows his gaze, sizing you both up, she finds your pale blue cardigan a glaringly obvious difference to Hobie's leather jacket.

Noticing eyes on both of you, you give Hobie a shy smile, waving to get his ass over to your station.

The various metal on his clothes swing loudly, grabbing attention from everybody else who wasn't already looking your way. You cringe at the unwanted attention.

"Hey, love" Hobie gives his signature smirk.

"You're late!" You whisper-shout.

"Y'know how much I hate waking up early"

"It's half past eleven, Hobie"

"I'm here now aren't I?" He raises a pierced eyebrow.

You would've scolded him more if it weren't for your professor, glaring daggers in your direction.

"Looks like you all partnered up well" Mrs. Williams says plainly "ready your photographs" as she strides up to the nearest station.

"What photograph?" Hobie mimics your professor's cadence.

You elbow him to stop, just in case Mrs Williams has super hearing.

"This picture" you show him a polaroid tucked inside your sketchbook.

Hobie grabs it carefully, it shows you both two years ago, you're smiling widely right next to Hobie as he slings his arm around your neck with his guitar on his back. Hobie grins at the camera as sweat drips on his face.

He chuckles at the memory "I remember this, battle of the bands, right?"

"Yeah, your band won second place" you point at the silver trophy that Hobie's holding in the photograph.

"Should've won though" he slides the picture back to you.

"Aww, still salty, huh"

He leans on your side of the table, hand on his chin "we were robbed, lovey"

"Mmhm, sure" you tease him, even though he's right.

From your peripheral you see your professor looking in your direction.

You swallow down your anxiety, leg bumping up and down, feeling a firm hand on your thigh, you stop, looking at Hobie, a comforting smile on his lips, but all you can give him is a tight lipped smile.

He rubs comforting circles over your thigh, leaning slightly towards you to whisper "it'll be alright, it's just an introduction, you've got this" you would be flustered at the contact, but your nervousness triumphs over it. Hobie shakes your leg, taking his hand back when the professor stops on your station.

She takes one look at the both of you, eyes darting between your forms, she watches as Hobie places an arm behind your chair, smirking at the woman.

You can feel the bead of sweat falling on your forehead, hands shaking.

Mrs. Williams extends a lithe hand to you, asking for the picture on your table. You quickly hand it over, you don't want to make her wait, fumbling a bit, scared to give her a papercut.

She flips the picture to face her, you try to read her reaction, but her straight face makes it hard for you to understand her emotion.

"Good" she hands it over to you after a quick scan of the picture.

"Thank you?" You hold the picture like it's your most precious possession (it is) you can't believe that you actually impressed her, not knowing that the word 'good' is even in her vocabulary.

She moves to the next student, Hobie leans back in his chair, looking at you through his lashes "good? That's it?" He watches as you look at the picture with stars in your eyes, disbelief on your pretty face, Hobie thinks he's gonna have a lot of fun with you in this project, before you inevitably leave him for greener pastures.

He sighs, trying to dampen his thoughts, he's not ready for you to leave his side yet. You've been through thick and thin with him for more than ten years, it's hard for Hobie to think of you not by his side. He's proud of you, truly, but he can't help feeling that you're gonna leave him behind for someone better. He wants to savor every last second with you.

Hobie flicks your cheek, trying to get your attention.

"Ow, what?" You whisper-shout.

"What're you gonna do after this?"

"I don't have other classes today, I guess just go back to the dorms and design?"

"That's loser talk" he pokes your cheeks, what is up with him and your cheeks these days? "Come with me after this snooze fest"

"Where to?" You swat at his hand.

"Somewhere" Hobie shrugs, leather jacket squeaking when he moves.

"Last time you said that, I had to haul your band's equipment, while you lot were blacked out drunk"

"I wasn't blackout drunk" he mimics your voice on the last two words, "I wasn't even drinking that much"

"You introduced me to Ned, I've known him for five years, Hobs"

"So? A reintroduction doesn't hurt?" He tries to play it off, fixing the collar of your shirt.

"Just promise me it's not a pub, I don't want to take care of drunk you again"

He grabs his chest, feigning hurt "I thought you liked taking care of me?"

"I do" his heart sings, you slap your palm over his chest, Hobie's hoping you don't feel the thudding of his chest. "I just don't like getting your sick all over my new trainers"

He winces at the memory, but he bounces back immediately "yeah, but I can't help getting sick over you" Hobie casually flirts, hoping you finally get the hint, ten years isn't too late, right?

You roll your eyes, used to his flirting "stop, my classmates could hear"

"Let 'em" He leans back in his chair, mission failed, he'll get you next time.

Mrs. Williams clasps her hands, one look from her gets the entire room quiet, Hobie doesn't seem fazed though, staring directly in her eyes.

"We'll reconvene next week with your sketches and fabric samples, your partners included. Is that understood?"

A collective "yes ma'am" can be heard from her students, even some of the non-students say it. Hobie mockingly salutes in her direction, you're horrified, good thing she missed it though.

"Hobie!" You say through gritted teeth, grabbing his half raised arm.

"What? She didn't even see" he stands up, heavy boots thudding on the linoleum floors. "C'mon then" Hobie beats you to your backpack, waiting hand stretched towards you.

You hear shuffled feet, your classmates and their partners slowly file out of the room.

"Where are we going?" You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, he's being too nice.

"Told you, somewhere nice"

"Not a pub?"

"Not a bloody pub, it's too early anyway" he flexes his fingers, beckoning you over, "don't make me exercise my rights"

You chuckle "what?"

"The bloody card"

"You want to use one, for this?" You wave the rewards card after grabbing it from your pocket "must be some place important" you tease him.

"Yes, now give me the bloody thing" Hobie snatches it from your fingers, punching out the logo, you see it float down on the table. He hands it back to you, tucking it safely inside your pocket.

"Ooohh one down nine to go" you finally stand up.

"Let's go before they close" He slings his arm over your shoulders.

"Are we taking your bike?"

"Of course, I'm not letting you ride the tube, don't worry I brought your helmet"

"You're such a softie, y'know"

"Yeah, yeah" only for you, he wanted to add, maybe next time he gets to finally say it to you.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it, as always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

#thread the needle #thread the needle chapter 1 #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #fanfic

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foursaints · 5 months

Note

Do you have any Rosekiller headcanons??

bro the amount of hcs i have about them should get me locked away

i love the idea of a rosekiller as opposites? evan as an extremely competent but also insanely neurotic and controlling nightmare of a premed student who takes frightening color-coded minimalist notes… and then you have barty. who fully vomited in the campus fountain that week

(except on the inside barty is actually quite clever and evan can be a MESS)

they meet through regulus and it’s one of those situations where two people should NOT be sleeping with each other (how do they even know each other?) because it makes no goddamn sense, they have nothing in common, and- oh they’re fucking. i guess this is everybody’s problem now.

complete train wreck together but it’s beautiful. they’re mutually questioning all their life choices

barty commitment issues jr introduces evan as "his little buddy" while theyre fucking and evan responds by burning all of barty's dumb Nine Inch Nails band shirts in a trash fire. and barty is just like Wow he must really like me <3

"why is my uptight medical school TA doing the world's drunkest karaoke to You Shook Me All Night Long with that guy in hot topic chains. what are they d- oh my god that is SO explicit"

they're both freakishly obsessed with each other but refuse to admit it and then will be in the McDonald's drive thru bullying each other like "AWWW does the little baby have a little CRUSH ON ME 🥺??" <- said mean as fuck

their friend group has to put up with minimum 6+ months of this shit yet the INSTANT they officially get together rosekiller shows up in matching couple's windbreakers that say "HELLO VIRGINS" on the back. evan is spitting his gum into barty's open mouth.

theyre insufferable together. they shouldn't last a week

barty loudly publicly proposes in the middle of regulus's wedding (interrupting everything) and evan thinks its the most romantic thing he's ever seen

he's on his knees and quoting bleachers lyrics. "hey baby baby, ive been so far gone lately", he's saying. he has tears in his eyes. evan is openly weeping. regulus is about to call security

#I LOVE! THEM!#i feel like my rosekiller is very different from the way fanon characterizes them but well #you have to make your own kind of music etc #a #t #rosekiller #rose & thorn

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viperrot · 1 year

Text

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 1

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

there's a new guy in town, and he's pretty damn cute. too bad he hates your brother, though.

content contains: mild angst, enemies to lovers, tbh? mean leon, cliches, minor religious/christian themes, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

3037 words

song rec: "kutsuro gish" by hiroshi takaki

pt. 2

what's this? the blossoming of a series? yes, yes it is! very self-indulgent. i love tropes like this so much. enjoy some mean leon content and a sweet enemies-to-lovers concept, little dove :]

Life in Everglade is... interesting, to say the least. Actually, it was extremely cliché here. Every Sunday and Wednesday, people would go to church, every Friday night was a football game, and the rest of the days were just busy nonsense. The people here rarely ever leave town, and people never really come in. It's been like this for years.

Until recently.

This fall, a handful of strangers tumbled into the little town of Everglade, proud home of the Everglade Ravens. Lucky for me, they even moved in across the street.

From my little window nook, I watch a dingy U-Haul pull up into the driveway across the street, and out comes four people. The first is a man that looks to be in his mid forties, dressed in khakis and a navy polo. Next is a little girl, who looks like a middle schooler. She's got a long skirt on and a flannel sweater, coloured with warm red and browns. After her is what I assume is an elder sister, but she doesn't look much older than the little one.. She's dressed in messy, paint-stained jeans, a black tank-top, and a pink windbreaker jacket to top it all off. She's the only brunette one out of the blonde family so far.

Then comes out the son.

Dragging himself out of the passenger seat was the most dashing boy I've ever seen. The smile he gives his sisters make my heart race—it honestly put Danny Zuko's smile to shame, and I love Grease! His blonde hair is parted to the side, hiding his eyes a bit. He's dressed up in blue jeans that grip around his thighs perfectly, a black t-shirt, and a navy-blue bomber jacket that had the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. From my spot at the window, I couldn't help but ogle. The mystery family all gathered around the front door of their new home to get a good look of the inside, and I couldn't help but keep my attention on the only son of the family. I noticed how their was no mother to be seen...

"Hey, thumper," a voice calls out from the door of my room. I tear my eyes away from the window to see my father, leaning against the frame of my door with his arms crossed. "He's been calling me thumper ever since I was little, seeing as how I stomp my foot when I laugh.

"Hey, pops! What's up?" I cock my head to the side questioningly.

"Mom's done with dinner. Meet ya downstairs, or are you gunna keep 'practicin''?" He smirks teasingly, looking at my unused oboe on the foot of my bed. I blush, rolling my eyes.

"I'll be down there... and I was practicing, thank you very much!" I huff. Dad just laughs at me and waves his hand, mumbling about how he'll see me at the dinner table. With that, I get up to collect myself. I take a quick look out the window one more time just to see if the boy next door was still outside, but the front door was shut tight.

I stumble down the stairs, my bunny slippers skidding down the steps as the smell of baked chicken filled my nostrils. Upon entering the dining room, I see my dad at the head of the table accompanied by my mom and my older brother, Damien, who sighs at the sight of me.

"Finally, you're here," Damien huffs. "Can you sit down now? I'm fuckin' hungry," he stretches his hand out to me so I can sit down and say grace with everyone. My dad throws a pen from his breast-pocket at my dumb brother, telling him to watch his language.

I sit at the other end across from Damien to avoid saying grace with him, holding hands instead with Mom and Dad with my head bowed down.

"Ahem... Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen," my mother says. Immediately after the prayer, Damien scarfs down the first piece of chicken he can get his hands on. I pick at some au gratin while my parents converse and scold Dami for being such a disgusting eater. I clear my throat to catch my parents' attention when they grow silent.

"So... uhm... There's new people across the street. Do you maybe... know about them?" I ask, giving my parents side glances. Mom shakes her head as a no, and before Dad can say anything, Damien coughs up a response.

"That punk Leon's the ace player from Greensmell's soccer team!" My older brother snorts, seemingly a bit angry.

So his name's Leon...

What Damien meant to say was Greenvale, which is a town over. They're probably Everglade High School's biggest rival in ever aspect—academics, sports, and even parties (apparently, I wouldn't know). The only thing I can confidently say they're bad at is marching. Their band is horrendous.

"Seriously?" I cringe at the information. "What are they doing here...?" I wonder under my breath.

"Probably got so embarrassed we beat 'em at state champ this year, the wimp probably got kicked out and thrown into Everglade!" Damien shouts with a mouthful of rice. I cringe at the sight, looking back down at my untouched au gratin.

"Cool, cool..." I mumble. "Uh... can I be excused? M'not really hungry," I ask Dad. He nods, going back to his food. Wordlessly, I take my plate to the kitchen to clean it up. As I wash dishes, I stare out the window blankly, eyes set on the house across the street. No one was out still.

I decide it's best to just go to bed after washing dishes, putting my oboe back in its case and setting it next to my backpack. I flop into my bed, part of me hoping to see this Leon guy again soon...

I hate gossip.

I can never tell if people are talking about me, the people around me, or to me. As I walk the halls of Everglade High School, oboe and trumpet cases held tight in my hands, I hear the little murmurs of the cliques of the school. Punks mumbling, girl's that try too hard to look like Sandra Dee whispering behind their palms, and some jocks laughing loudly about Leon.

Wait, Leon?

My converse-clad feet are walking through the hall faster now. As I bump past a bunch of students, I speed my way down to the lunch room, needing to see my friends as soon as possible. Luckily, one of them sticks out like a sore thumb today. Sporting a red blazer, blue flannel tennis skirt, and black socks, I see Samantha Grey in all her glory sitting on top of our usual table, talking to a few of our little group. I stomp up to her, the charms on my instrument cases clinking softly with each step.

"Sammy!" I whisper-yell. Her brown eyes immediately look over to my position in front of her, her black hair swaying.

"Hey, sweet pea~!" She coos happily, a big smile painting her face as she gets down from the tabletop to give me a hug. "Glad you aren't too late. Me 'n' the girls were just talkin' about the new hunk in town," she pinches my cheek before helping me set my cases down on the table. I sit next to her, getting settled.

"Hunk? What's this about?" I stare, acting like I didn't know who they were chittering about. Across from Sammy and me is Lucy Brail and Patti James, who I've known since diapers along with Samantha. Lucy is the first to speak up, clearly excited to talk about Leon.

"This stud just moved into town yesterday! Apparently, he's got two little sisters at the middle school, 'n all the boys here have been howlin' about how he probably got kicked outta the Greenvale soccer team after losing nationals this year!" She says with a grin that reaches her ears. My eyebrows knit together at the information that I had heard the night before.

"You call almost every meathead here a stud, Lucy," I chuckle. She gives me a weird look before scoffing.

"This one's different, sweet pea," Sammy jabs me in the side softly, and I yelp. "He's got this look in his eyes that just scream at me like he wants me!" She sighs dreamily.

"Are you sure it wasn't his pecs you were lookin' at?" I click my tongue. Another jab to the side, and it hurts a little more than the last. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, I'm sure he's just like the oth-"

"Oh! Oh!! There he is, sweet pea, look!" Sammy grabs me by the jaw to turn my sights to the new guy.

There he is...

Across the lunch hall is Leon, dressed all pretty in a forest green letterman jacket with his initials on the right bicep. There's a few patches from some bands he likes and a big ole "11" on the back of it with "Greenvale" above it. He's still in tight jeans, but they're black this time, as well as his t-shirt beneath the well-worn coat.

"He's got some nerve wearin' that here," Patti mutters. We all hum in agreement as we watch him saunter over to the lunch line to get a carton of strawberry milk.

"Ain't he just a dream~?" Sammy breathes out. Lucy's got this blush that could be seen from Mars, and I swear that Patti's mouth is gunna get dry with how much she's drooling. My gaze is trained on the back of Leon's head, looking at how well-trimmed his hair is.

"He's... he is pretty cute," I mumble, jaw hurting a bit with how tight my best friend was gripping onto it. I hear her giggle.

"Don't get sweet on him now, thumper!" She reminds me, using that silly nickname. “God knows your brother would tear you a new one if he found out you wanted to get a piece of Leon Scott Kennedy," she lets go of my jaw, and I roll my eyes.

"M'not sweet on anyone, Sam," I grumble. Lucy giggles, twirling a strand of her blonde curls in her fingers.

"Isn't he right next to your house, (y/n)?" She asks me. I nod.

"Yeah, actually... How did you know?"

"Oh, sweet pea?! Please, please, please tell me you gotta good view of him from your room! If so, I'm comin' over every weekend!!!" Samantha begs, shaking me by the shoulder.

"H-hey, quit it! I dunno if he's gunna be upstairs or not, and that's c-creepy!" I gasp as she shook me. Lucy and Patti laugh as I get thrashed around. From the corner of my eye, I see Leon get closer. He's got a mean look in his eyes, like he's ready to bite someone if they get near him.

I guess he's trying to protect his peace...

The girls grow silent as he walks past our table, not showing any mind to how noisy we are. They all watch Leon like dogs to a bone when he scoots past us, tossing his milk carton in the air like he hasn't a single worry in the world. When he's gone, it's like we can all breathe again.

"Oh lord, he even smells good," Patti fans herself, a blush covering up her little freckles. Sammy grins in agreement, clearly happy that she got to see the new guy so close. I stick my tongue out in disgust.

“You guys are so gross…”

“Everyone, please welcome our new student,” Mrs. Bradshaw, the advanced chemistry teacher here at Everglade High, drones, motioning her hand to Leon near the back of the class.

And also next to me.

The blonde boy stands up, puffing up his chest a little.

“Name’s Leon Kennedy. Nice to meet you,” he says curtly before sitting right back down. Everyone’s giving him looks ranging from “I wanna rip his throat out” to “I want to kiss him behind the bleachers”, and it’s clear that he doesn’t care about it either. Mrs. Bradshaw clears her throat to stop annoying students from whispering.

“Now, let’s get started on our calorimetry unit. To begin…” The old hag’s words begin to go process in my brain as I get to writing notes. At times, I look at Leon from the corner of my eyes.

He’s writing on a piece of paper instead of a notebook, his blue ballpoint pen scraping against the surface as he messily jots down his notes. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that he actually cares about his education! I can see Leon’s tongue poking out between his plump lips, and I can’t help but stare a little. He doesn’t seem to notice me, until he looks up to check the blackboard up front.

Leon’s blue eyes set their sights on me, locking with mine. Quickly, I avert my gaze back to my notebook, trying my best to act like I was still writing notes. I hear him laugh a little next to me, but I make no effort to speak up.

When the class ends, and the bell for the next period rings, I gather my things to head off to the band room. Backpack slugged over my shoulders, I’m getting ready to pick up my trumpet and oboe case before someone else grabs of for me. Big, veiny hands take the cases by the leather handle, lifting it before my eyes. I look up to see Leon with a devilish smile.

“Caught you staring at me. Mind if I walk with you?” He says confidently. I’m a bit taken aback by his attitude, but I nod nonetheless. I’ve never really had a boy offer to walk me to class other than Damien…

“I can hold my-“

“Nah, don’t worry bout it. I carry my sister’s euphonium all the time,” he chuckles, his shoulders shaking a little as he does. I blush, not expecting him to even know what a euphonium is. So, he’s cute AND he knows the difference between a tuba and a euphonium..

“Are you sure? I-I mean, I don’t want it to be a hass-“

“Don’t worrrrryy,” he exaggerates. “Where are you headed? This is my study hall period, so I got time,” he grins.

“Uh… the band room. A-and thanks,” I tell him, nervously fiddling with my fingers. We walk out of the science lab together, me trailing slightly behind him as we walk.

“So, I’m guessing you and your little posse this morning was talking about me?” He asks, and I feel the blood rush up to my face.

Samantha and her big ole mouth…!

“Y-yeah…” I stammer, unsure of what to say. “Sorry about that… It’s just… we never really have any newcomers here, so the girls were just excited,” I bite my lip. I can feel the stares of people around us in the halls. Whether it’s out of jealousy towards me or hate for him, I’ve no clue.

“I see,” Leon hums. “It was kinda funny, so don’t apologize.” He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. His fingers are gripping the handle of my cases tight enough to make his veins bulge a little, and I can’t help but stare. After our small talk, it’s quiet, and when we make it to the band room, we stop next to the door so he can give me back my things. As Leon hands over my instruments, footsteps thunder toward our position.

“You know, I thought it was just some sick joke hearing about my lil sister hangin’ around you, but I see that the rumours are true,” Damien growls, walking towards Leon and me slowly with his hands in the pockets of his black letterman. The blonde boy in front of me is still holding my oboe case as he looks at my older brother with an unamused stare.

“Well, had I known she was related to you, I would have never offered to carry her junk,” the ace smiled. I felt my heart drop at his words.

And then it felt like the world came crashing down on me.

Like it was fire, Leon let go of my oboe case, and it clatters against the floor. He’s staring my brother dead in the eyes as he does so, and I can feel tears swell in my eyes. I watch as my reeds, feather, and parts of the oboe pop out of the hard case, scraping against the floors of the hall.

“N-no!!” I yelp, unable to hold back my tears as I drop to my knees to gather the parts. A key or two had bent, and a few corks were damaged. I hear Damien shout at Leon, slamming his body into a locker. I don’t understand what they’re yelling about, too busy trying to pick up the bits of my instrument. More voices erupt, and I assume they’re people trying to pull my brother off of Leon Kenne-dick. My feather gets swept away amidst the commotion. When everything but that is successfully stuffed back into my case, I snap my head around to glare at the ace soccer player behind glossy eyes.

“You’re fuckin’ paying for this, you piece of shit!” Damien screams, thrashing against some teachers who dragged him away from the scene. Leon’s being escorted away as well, not giving me a chance to say anything. I’m left alone in the hall with my broken oboe before Samantha scurries out.

“Sweet pea! We heard all the ruckus, but Mr. Kay said it wasn’t safe for us to be out, and—oh, sugar…” she gasps lightly, crouching down next to me. The ravenette looks down at my open case, seeing the broken and bent keys and chipped corks. “Who did this…?” She asked me gently, setting her chin on my shoulder.

“Leon…” I hiccup, tears falling. The silence is heavy when I tell her this, and I know that Sammy can only see red. Without a word, she wipes my tears with her thumb before helping me into the band room.

I’m starting to regret wanting to see him again.

woohoo! chapitre un, fini :] i know it’s a bit lacking, but it’s just the beginning. hope you enjoyed! pt. 2 here!

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #fanfic #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil/biohazard #biohazard #angst #leon kennedy angst #>>high school sweethearts: LSK #leon kennedy x reader angst #leon kennedy x reader au #high school au #slowburn

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sweetheartsaku · 1 month

Text

—akaashi keiji ; sharing my heart is tearing it apart

a/n ; [fem!reader] THIS IS ACTUALLY MY ENGLISH ESSAY I RE-WROTE TO FIT WITH AKAASHI. 😭 this is angst no comfort by the way :3

chrysanthemum !

the oceans whisper sounded like an owl’s coo, a melody that no one else could treasure except y/n. never eerie, but a comfortingly cold embrace. the breeze was chilly, looking up to the hole of light in the sky. it felt like a fever dream, but only to y/n. a passing midnight breeze sends a feverish chill down her spine, all the way down to the edge of her worn out white sneakers digging into the crisp sand. the ocean sways and dances gently, as the waves glisten in the moonlight.

hands in the pocket of her white windbreaker, staring down as her shoes make prints in the sand. alternative rock blasts through her ears, which bass makes a faint noise outside of her earphones mushing with the wave’s tranquil calls.

“y/n?”

“what are you doing here?” the same voice gently asks.

swiftly, y/n looks back, eyes widening. in the midst of the dark, her eyes interlock with the owner of the familiar voice.

“keiji? i-… i’m… just… having some time to myself.” she mutters.

“another fight?” he knew her mind lingered on the thought that she was the reason her parents mercilessly fought every day. keiji knew, by the way her eyebrows stitch together a little tighter and her voice a little deeper. every day he wishes it was him who had to endure what she goes through.

“i…” her voice breaks.

keiji takes a step closer, a hand away. he extends his hand, slim and tan.

y/n crashes her body onto his. keiji has no hesitation into accepting her call for help in her grasp and the tight clench she had on the back of his now tear-soaked jacket. y/n's vision is hazy, helpless head in a daze.

“i wish i was buried six feet underground, but oh my i also wish i was buried in your arms.” she thought. she holds a grudge against herself like she does a hand.

“why would you even glance at a wretch like me?” she muttered.

he purses his lips. “i comfort because you cannot save people. you can only love them.”

y/n ponders if she is really worth of this love. was she born without love or just unlovable?

the night is over-time, and the sunrise is late, orange beams bleeding into the border of the horizon and its misty clouds. the sky appeared as a child had grazed the sky with warm and cold tones of chalk.

y/n breaks the hug, hands still on his waist, wind breaking the silence and its tension. her eyes now outlined a blush rose colour, so beautiful yet holding so much pain by a thread.

“let’s take down the world together.” words sweet as a treat, dripping of honey, the uttered words glued into y/n’s mind.

they walk pinkies intertwined; souls taped together by band-aids.

the bustling of early school arrives, the noise of chirping seagulls fills arabella’s ears.

keiji looks up to the skies, “it’s nice having our school near the beach. it puts you at ease quickly.”

y/n and keiji bid their farewells to separate paths for their first period. keiji eyes stick to y/n's hesitant pinkie still woven onto his.

y/n watches keiji as he walks off, but something catches her eyes making her glimpse back to his direction.

keiji, hands holding onto another girls.

they shared a smile, then a toothy giggle.

keiji lifts their laced hands to his lips, pressing their hands onto the same lips that once reclaimed that they would take down the world together.

his smile like cold ice-tea, sparkly eyes of a dull gunmetal blue and heart as full and warm as a bonfire.

y/n’s chest tightened; throat clenched by a merciless thorned hand. her heart felt heavy, as it was pulled by the heartstrings, blood dripping from it. the blood builds up into a lump in her throat, making her trance a muddy and smeared blur.

it felt like heart was cracking. snapping, even.

too immune to cry, all the blades that dug deep into her back felt like feathers. no more shine in her eyes, but now rotten. the heart she wore on her sleeve, stepped on and bruised.

chrysanthemums, which can mean "i love you" in some cultures, but "you're a wonderful friend" in others.

all she wanted was to be loved so desperately that her fingers shook with it,

“i am not beautiful.”

“but i could be.”

#akaashi keiji #akaashi drabble #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #akaashi headcanons #akaashi hcs #akaashi scenarios #akaashi imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #akaashi angst

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pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶“So,” you leaned into the joke by lowering your voice to a provocative, airy tone, “What are you wearing?”✶

NSFW — smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, secretly getting off while the other doesn't know it, voice kink, perv!eddie, perv!reader

chapter: 7/15 [wc: 4.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 7: Satan Always Calls Collect

You shivered. The chilly air in the tiled hallway hit the dewy drops leftover from your shower, sending an eruption of goosebumps down your exposed legs. In your slippers, you shuffled to the ice machine, filled your floppy ice pack, and returned to your dorm room, where you were more comfortable limping to your bed despite not seeing another soul. Weekends were quiet on the athletic side of campus.

Getting ready for the night, you threw back your bed covers looking forward to a long rest; a nice relaxing time knowing your alarm clock was set two hours later than usual. That is, until the phone on the shared bedside table rang.

Sagging, you answered expecting your roommate to say she forgot something, “Hello?”

“Hey.” Your stomach clenched and flipped at his distorted voice over the line. “Was just thinking about you. Sorry it’s been two weeks.”

“Don’t tell me you read a magazine that said you should wait that long to call a girl, Munson.”

Exhaling in a short scoff, he set down a metal can of whatever he was drinking; a hollow tink, presumably an empty beer. “I’m afraid my magazines don’t have many articles giving dating advice in them.” Images of naked babes posed on cars entered your mind. Probably the same titles he collected when he was younger. Sounding more apologetic, he said, “I meant to call sooner. Between getting band stuff going, researching and writing out the rest of this campaign, and other bullshit, I’ve been busy. Just coming home and crashing at night.”

“And what about your homework?”

“Yeah.. Definitely been trying to–”

“Choose your words wisely.”

“..Copy someone else’s,” he caved. Popping the tab of another drink, he sipped a few times before he felt comfortable speaking again, in a much softer manner. “I missed you.”

Glancing at the door to make sure it was closed, you sank into your mattress and tried not to ruminate too deeply over him missing you. He’d said it before, there was no reason to latch onto it now. Playing it over, and over, again in your head. Wondering how often he missed you, or thought about you in general, and what sparked him to do so, and whether or not it was as frequent as you thought about him. And if those thoughts led to other thoughts.. Daydreams, even. The sort of questions you weren’t supposed to have about your best friend. “Missed you too, Eddie. You know, you have perfect timing. I just got out of the shower, and my roommates gone for the weekend over to her boyfriend’s.” Crinkly static responded. A buzzing lull as your words sank in through your thick skull. Putting your hand over your eyes, you explained, “That sounded weird. I meant I was getting ready for bed when you called.” You almost promised him you were wearing clothes, but that seemed like a suggestion too far in the area you were trying to avoid.

Except he careened right for it. “Not wearing your tracksuit, huh?”

“No.” God, you hated how high-pitched you went when you were grinning. Twirling the phone cord around your finger like a schoolgirl, cheesing so hard your cheeks hurt. “None of the windbreaker stuff you hate.. I’m wearing pink pajamas with little ladybugs on them.”

Embarrassing.

He snickered. “Sounds cute. Do you really go to bed at 8:30 like an old lady?”

“I am old,” you insisted. In the background, you heard him walking through his trailer, assuming from the kitchen to his room with the phone tucked to his shoulder, falling to his bed with a nasally huff directly into the microphone.

No amount of shame could keep your body demure. In any other context, you wouldn’t have noticed the soft fabric of your adorable matching pajama set brushing over your nipples; an action that would be ignored on any other occasion, if it weren’t for them being coaxed from their half-hardened state to fully erect with the knowledge of where your mind was wandering.

Listening intently, there was no mistaking Eddie’s long exhale as he shifted, and the grind of a zipper being pulled.

“So,” you leaned into the joke by lowering your voice to a provocative, airy tone, “What are you wearing?”

If you could bottle his laugh, you would. It would be lacking the nuances of how his chest shook, the intricacies of his short curls bouncing, and the twinkle in his eye when his gaze slid to yours, but it would suffice on these lonely nights made less lonely by him.

“I’m–just takin’ my jacket off,” he was quick to excuse, stunting his words in a believable way for someone struggling to remove the heavy-ass layers they wore when it wasn’t even cold out. “Wearing my Hellfire shirt, which reminds me.. I couldn’t help but notice you stole my other one.”

Your fingers sought the keepsake stashed beneath your pillow out of instinct. “Oops, my bad.”

“Couldn’t possibly be because you’re planning on making the drive to join us again?” He didn’t allow you time to reject the offer. “The brats have been bothering me about you.” Sucking in a long breath, you could visualize him struggling between a nod of approval and an admonishing shake. “They think they can weasel their way out of everything by concocting these asinine scenarios, like flirting with a magically locked door to open it. You’re a bad influence on them, y’know, you shattered my illusion of being the big scary DM, and now they think I’ll give in to their demands if they’re creative enough.”

“You poor baby,” you mocked, “Sounds like you don’t even want me there.”

“I want you here.”

Instant. An ache in your chest. Lump in your throat. A single sentence washing over you, bathing you, soothing you. Snaking its way around your body. Muddying your apprehensions. He just.. said it so boldly, and immediately with conviction. Serious. Not at all matching your cooing lilt.

You laid back in bed, and if the phone cord happened to drag over your clothed tits and brush your nipples as you switched hands, thus causing you to suck in your bottom lip between your teeth, then so be it. The sensation was electric. All pleasure. And he didn’t have to know.

Back to reality, you stifled a pained grunt from lifting your right leg onto the bed. Sighing in relief at the ice pack numbing your knee.

“That was quite a noise you just made,” he said, deeper in register, a little slower and coming from his chest. Helplessly gravelly, and directly into your ear pressed against the sweaty plastic.

And yeah, your sigh came out more as a whimper than you intended. “I told you I’m getting old,” you said, slipping the top button of your shirt undone. “Gotta ice my knee after every practice. And my hips, and my left shoulder after uneven bars, both ankles–especially after having two surgeries on the right one a few years ago. God, and don’t even get me started on my back.” The next button gave easily, and your tired body was accepted by your fluffy blankets. Weary head resting amongst the pillows as your eyes fell closed.

Your callused fingertips made contact with the sensitive skin of your clavicle and Eddie continued in the same measured cadence, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Eyes very open and mouth very shut, you glanced around your room, unnerved he chose the very second your thumb strummed over your nipple to ask that question in that way. “Wait, what?”

“Are you eating properly and giving your body a break?”

Oh. “Yes and definitely not. I told you my money is mine now, so everything’s getting better. I mean, I can afford these cute pajamas, at least. No more canned green beans on plain rice and stealing my roommate’s ketchup, for me. Plus, I get free food at my job.” You opened the rest of your shirt, bare chest rising and falling in the indecent way it should when you stopped resisting your cravings. “Can’t make any promises about my body.”

His sudden caring attitude erred on the side of doting. “I just worry about you pushing yourself too hard, sometimes.”

Thumb and index giving yourself light pinches, your jaw slackened as your body didn’t, running one leg up the other until both your thighs squeezed tight. “That’s what comes with the sport. Teenage glory and then an early retirement when your knees no longer work.” He made a gruff sound from his throat. “Why do you care? I’m the one who got a silver medal on vault last Nationals. I’m geriatric, Eddie. It happens.” Your pinches escalated in strength, causing you to press your tongue to your teeth in order to discipline yourself from being so obvious.

“Is it so wrong I want you to be healthy?”

“It’s annoying.”

“Oh, but I like annoying you.” His smirk preceded his teasing remark. An undue bite to his inflection, like he was enjoying himself far too much.

And maybe you enjoyed the idea of him caring about you too much, too.

Flattening your palm to your belly, your fingernails grazed your delicate skin on their course downward. With the phone nestled under your cheek, you used your other hand to pull the tie of your shorts loose, and slid your fingers beneath the waistband, climbing over your mound. The tip of your middle finger paused at the height of where you needed it most. Tempting your desire to test the naughtiness of it all, holding your breath as you debated if this was crossing a line; and as your free hand cupped your breast, and the backside of your thumb teetered on the precipice of a bad idea, his warm voice pushed you over the edge.

“I’ll just have to take care of you, then, if you’re not going to do it yourself.”

A stroke: thumb, and middle finger. Acute delight fluttering your inhale, and a deep rapture between your legs. Once, twice, then a little circle. Back and forth.

“Oh? And how do you suppose you’ll do that?”

“Come back to Hawkins and find out.”

Not falling for that one. Speak all the fantasies you had aloud in that honeyed rasp of his, he would do nothing to relieve your stress. In fact, you were sure he went out of his way to avoid touching you at DND, acting out the goblin’s chants by gripping the other guy’s shoulders, whispering menacingly in their ear, drumming his fingers along their backs to creep them out. Except when it came to your turn. Your hair stood on end in anticipation. And he walked past you to sing the last sinister verse on his throne. Like you didn’t exist.

What was he going to do if you drove the 16 hour round trip? Massage your lower back through sheer will alone?

Heartbreak awaited you in Hawkins. That’s it.

“Tempting offer,” you mused past the sting of a lost cause, past the dulled pain of unrequited feelings, arriving at the selfish lust of pretending he was as affected by this phone call as you.

Delving lower, you crooked your fingers and glided your arousal to your clit, swirling more vigorous, purposeful, and needy patterns of bliss. Burning in a hot flush taking over you with the phone trapped beneath the side of your face, turned in a way that would allude to you looking at him laying next to you, noses and lips touching his. A perfect delusion. Somehow, you expelled your excuses coherently, “It’s not like when we were kids; I have training every morning before class, and a second session after, and I pick up hours at work when I can. Not to mention, you know, the actual classes, and exams, and stuff; the reason I’m here, if you remember?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you in your off season? Meant for recovery?”

Astute observation. “Coach, uh..” This clinical conversation was not exactly fueling your perversions. “I haven’t been given much of a break ‘cause Coach wanted me to test into the Elite program, and start vying for a spot on the ‘88 Olympic team.. I’d be able to take sponsorships, if I did. Sounds better than having my clothes smell like grease, and being subjected to drunk frat boys hitting on me for a paycheck.”

A little less groggy, he said in an excited lurch, “That’s an amazing opportunity, tell me you’re considering it.”

“I dunno..” An honest insecurity warbled your dilemma. “That’s still years away, and I’d definitely have to drop out of college to focus on it. And yeah, who knows what condition my body will be in at that point. Twenty-three-years-old is practically one foot in the grave for gymnasts. Can’t imagine competing when I can already feel myself slowing down. I’d rather retire young, finish college, and join the circus.”

He sighed your name– In frustration or something more tender, you weren’t sure since you interrupted him to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Can we talk about anything else?” you asked.

His hard swallow funneled from Indiana to Pennsylvania. From his mouth to your ear. States away, but loud and clear.

Long pause.

Two fingers deep, you closed your eyes from staring at the ceiling, tongue lulled in a silent moan. Hips chasing the heel of your palm in search of the building tension ramping to mind-altering degrees. Forgetting everything that wasn’t in direct sight of your release. Including the near-mute whine escaping with your exhale. Fucking yourself at a faster tempo, imagining he’d be the kind to like it that way. Interrupting your gasps of his name with each thrust. His face, reddened from effort, hovering above yours. His hair sweeping your cheeks. Building. Building. Sending a wanton throb to your clit. Begging for the expertise of your thumb while your fingers were buried in your willing cunt closing in tight around inadequacy.

Long pause.

His mattress springs creaked before you became muffled to the world. His soft breath was replaced by the harsh noise of fabric rubbing against the mic. You jerked away, nose wrinkled at the loudness of it all, about to ask if he dropped the phone when he came back.

“We can talk about whatever you want,” he enunciated in a sweltering union of coercion and dare.

————

Eddie didn’t remember when, exactly, it happened, but he did recall forgiving it as an involuntary response to his nerves.

Metal can to lips, happiness resided. The first beer he downed quickly, but was still too aware of his inhibitions. It did little to hush his pounding heart stuttering his breaths, nor quench his dry mouth. The second drink was better at eliminating the shake in his fingers. The third dulled his face until it tingled under his prodding, feeling the sensation beneath a buzzing layer of haze.

The strip of your character sheet was balled in his sweaty fist. Resolute, he punched the number in order.

It was possible his body reacted to that first ring. Or when you attempted to disguise your annoyed tone under an air of curiosity when you answered with a curt, “Hello?” Or, maybe, his pants became uncomfortably snug when the both of you implied he needed dating advice to talk to you; his friend.

Or it happened when you mentioned what you were wearing.

Freshly showered. In bed all alone. Implying much, and saying so little.

Yeah, he definitely cupped himself then, reveling in the satisfaction of his hardon being treated with the kindness it deserved.

He didn’t waste time taking off his shoes before he was stretching the phone cord to its limits to reach his room. Falling into bed, laying slightly propped up by his pillow. An excited jitteriness to his movements as he unfastened his belt, leather ends dropping to either side of his hips, sucking in his stomach to unbutton his jeans, but as sneaky as he was, you heard the zipper struggle over the bulk of his increasing neediness. “I’m–just takin’ off my jacket,” he said, tilting his head up to escape the groan begging to be announced when his red boxers stretched to their limits in a swell between the black lanes his jeans created. Freed from its cage.

Not once did shame enter his mind. He knew his limits. He could be quiet. He could be quick. He could keep it routine. He was simply taking care of a momentary lapse in judgment, and you didn’t have to know. It wouldn’t get out of hand. Hell, he could even manage to carry a coherent conversation with you. Coherent, but a little apparent where his mind resided, repeatedly mentioning your body.

He shoved his Hellfire shirt up to his chest, giving himself ample room for later.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

Why did you have to react that way, seconds after gifting him with the most delicious moan when you climbed into bed? Sucking in a breath like a gasp; so sweet and innocent, and naive to the rate at which his depravity shattered his illusion of self-control.

Are you hungry, sweetheart? I’ll make you dinner, just sit there and look pretty for me.

Groping his clothed length, he tightened his fist until his fingers circled around himself. Tugging once, twice. Dragging the tip to where it peeked out from under the waistband. Sticky precum glistening in a strand leading to his belly.

You’re tired, baby? Let me draw you a bath. Yes, of course I’ll join you. Don’t worry.

Stroke after stroke, he immersed himself in his fantasy.

But first, tell me where it hurts. Trust me. I’ll take care of you.

It was a secret he’d take to the grave. How much he wanted to be the one you sought after practice. Still dressed in your leotard. Smelling of chalk, sweat, and foam. Providing you with the needs you neglected. Nurturing you in the ways he could. Your muscles are sore? Let me massage them for you. Your thighs are shaking? Come lay down, my Light.

Eddie tried to keep his breathing level as he rocked side to side, shoving his jeans and boxers down. It was torture telling you to come back to Hawkins when he knew he wouldn’t act on his impulses and learn the different ways you could articulate his name.

Just friends. Just friends, he told himself as his skilled hand tamed his urges. Fitting his palm to the underside, fingers curled with his index lifted from the rest, black ring glimmering as he slid his grip upwards. A pleasant brush over the lipped edge. Itching for more, but some part of him wanted to savor the novelty of talking to you while he touched himself. Sullying the image of his perfect girl on her way to becoming an Olympian.

If only you knew how young he was when this idea first sprang to his mind..

What about between those strong thighs, sweetheart? I can make you feel better there, too.

Oh, how he wanted to bury himself there.

His hips jerked. Pumping his fist without his permission. He wanted to make this last. Explore those visions which became more frequent after seeing you train at the rec center. Delve into this region of the late-night images he tried to resist as of late, only to wake up covered in a mess. Dreaming of fucking his best friend and how gently he’d do it.

God, what he would give to have that reality. You sitting on the bed. Any bed. How he’d kneel before you on the floor, running his hands up your calves. Treating you to his thumbs massaging into the muscle. Relaxing you after a long day of training. Gazing into your eyes as he inserted himself between your legs. Slipping his fingers beneath the straps of your leotard, peeling it away from your exhausted body, sliding it over your shoulders. Chasing open-mouth kisses over the unclean skin he wasn’t familiar with. Salt mixing with his spit. Lapping at the column of your throat. Grazing his teeth over your pulse. Lower. Cherishing your warmth. Lower. Teasing the flesh responding to his prompting. He needed to go lower as you tangled his hair in your fists.

Stripping your upper half from the confining uniform, he would expose you for his veneration only. Pursuing where your stuttered speech commanded him. As tender as his hand cradling the back of your head lowering you to the mattress. As enthusiastic as his lips discovering boundaries beyond your friendship.

Even in his fantasies, every now and then, he’d keep your clothing on. He’d never admit he liked it in some ways. Implying how unhinged he was in taking you, that he couldn’t wait for you to undress.

He’d simply trace the edge of your leotard cutting from the crease of your hip to where you begged him to serve you. Moving the fabric aside to flirt, and lick, and suckle until his name was muffled from your thighs enclosing around his face, bucking against his tongue tasting you for the first time. Hailing him to the heavens as he honored you on his knees.

Then, he’d flip you over. Snatch the backside of your tight clothing and wedge it between your round ass. Hiking your hips up with a firm slap on your leg. Outlining your plump pussy under the taut fabric covered in the praise he gave you. Obeying the overwhelming desire to grind himself into the curve of your cunt and add his own decadence dripping down your beautiful thighs.

Fuck, he didn’t mean to sigh your name as he stroked his cock.

“Can we talk about anything else?” you asked.

Smothering the phone against his chest, Eddie rolled onto his shoulder and swirled his tongue around his mouth a few times, then spat into his hand.

It was a miracle he could speak with clarity.

“Of course.” Could you hear the lewd slap he was making, driving his hand up and down his shaft, trying and failing to keep a moderate pace? “Anything exciting you want to tell me?”

“Mmm,” you drew out the hum and he swore he could feel the vibration in his chest. “I’m going to New Jersey next week with a few girls from the team. We’re going to the beach.”

Faster. An open invitation for him to picture you in a bikini. Running his hands up your waist to the underside of your tits. Letting an accident take place; a loose string, and he’d have to help cover you up, and you’d thank him for being so chivalrous by using your mouth.

“Sounds cool. Never been to the beach.”

“One of them has a camera, so I can take some pictures for you. We went last year, too. The ocean’s really pretty.”

Faster, again, because your voice was getting huskier. A hushed caress along his cheek. Likely because you were falling asleep on him, but he didn’t care. Didn’t care. Didn’t care. So sweet and soft for him. Easing his fingers over his cock to your pretty voice coming from your pretty mouth. Each pump, each digit, each squeeze and twist of his wrist at the top bringing him closer to the edge.

There it was again–your quiet intake of breath being released as a whiny plea away from the phone.

Head tipped, he choked back a groan, and thrusted into his fist as if his palm were you, no longer concerned about the consequences of being caught.

You kept him on the line, “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Oh, baby.

Observing his red knuckles in a bout of lucidity, he played up his complaining to garner your sympathy, “Playing mechanic around the trailer park. Gotta be the one to fix everything for everybody. My hand got a little scraped up, though.”

“Aw,” you purred, “Want me to kiss it better?”

This was it. This was it. He was gonna–

Feathery, jumpy sentences spilled from his mouth all at once, “Hey–sweetheart–something just came up. I’ll call you back. Okay?”

You stuttered as well–an Angel’s hymn to his devilish ways, “Y-Yeah. Bye.”

He didn’t have time to hang up.

Slamming the phone to the side of his mattress, he prayed you couldn’t hear his groan of your name break on his tongue. Silent moans escaping past his sealed lips when he dropped his head back. Toes curling right as his thighs twitched and flexed. Erratic movements interrupting his rhythm. Panting as a throb trembled him. Desperately fucking a poor replacement for his best friend’s pussy.

“That’s it–fuck.”

Chest falling in great huffs, he watched his cum land on his shirt, covering him while his strokes faltered, slowed, using his dripping climax as lube. Body jerking from overstimulation. Sliding his thumb over the intoxicating nerves telling him to stop. But it felt so good to picture you straddling him, bouncing relentlessly until he was begging for mercy.

“Holy shit,” he sighed. And then a disenchanted, “Jesus,” as he looked at the mess cooling on his skin, alone in his bed, clear-headed and aware he would never have what he wanted, despite the temporary stupidity clouding his mind moments ago, encouraging him to risk it all.

A sober realization after the best orgasm he’d experienced in his recent years.

Racing heart on the decline, he faced his fears and picked up the phone.

When the dial tone reached him, he mumbled something in relief and let it fall to the floor, listening to the cord drag it back into the hallway while he body went lax, and his vision went dark with his arms crossed over his face.

————

Your phone sat crooked on the receiver.

“Ed–” you couldn’t complete his name, lost to the aftershocks of your climax. Circling your fingers again, and again, over your sensitive clit until, at last, you couldn’t handle more, and went languid. Blinking at the blurry ceiling, accepting it was time to surrender to your drowsy eyelids and sleep.

Reaching for the lamp, you noticed the phone wasn’t hung up. You scrambled for it, and held it up to your ear, listening to the other end of the line. More staticky fabric noise.

Eddie probably drank more than he let on and dropped it again. Meaning he didn’t hear you coach him into fucking you harder, faster at the height of your yearning. Thank God.

You ended the call for him.

That was close.

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk-writes @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff @bebe0701 @eddiethesexy

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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moe-broey · 11 months

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Jacket update :)

Been sitting on this a bit but!!! I did it! Transgender House of Wolves backpiece........

Some notes!

> Used an extra trans flag I got at a previous Pride!

> The pink fabric/gums are actually that band at the waist of an old hoodie, and unintentionally had a really neat lettuce-ruffle effect when I cut it. I feel like it makes it look fleshy.

> Fangs were hand sewn! In fact almost all of this was, just the top and bottom of the flag being sewn by machine (and later covered up by various fabric layers anyway). Also the chipped tooth was unintended (underestimated how much material I had there) but I think it's charming :)

> Belt was from a yard sard that I've had since middle school HAHA, I thought it would be aesthetically more pleasing if I separated the wings from the wolf mouth? I was careful to save some for later as well, if I want to implement it somewhere else.

> Also. Only stitched the ends of the belt to the jacket. The rest is nuts and bolts LMFAOO could NOT be bothered (but ties in nicely with the wings and other places I've used bolts! Metal detectors hate me.)

> Text was largely free handed with marker! I did have stencils (?) I drew out on paper, but not like cut outs -- the flag material was thin enough to trace and free hand the rest. Also, the text is meant to mimic the fonts seen in the lyric pamphlet! Because it was freehand, I did make a mistake on the N and covered it up with embroidery.

^ Progress pic that shows off concepts and references!

ALSO.

Added a bolt and a hair elastic as a clasp for the Extra Pockets on the sides!!! This actually makes them functional now!!! I can put pliers and scissors and Stabbing Tool (a dart I cut the aerodynamic bits off of) what have you in them AND nothing falls out when I yank it off and toss it aside YIPPEEEEEE!!! 🎉🎉🎉

The funniest part of all of this is that, this humble windbreaker, is now about as hefty and weighty as a leather jacket after all the mods and shit I've stored in the pockets. All five of them (there is a secret pocket as well 👀)

#my transition goals include 'guy who has fucking everything in his fucking pockets'. btw.#do you need a knife? ibuprofen? tweezers? lighter? bandaids? nail clippers? i've got you. hold on.#also i hope the skull belt is giving cartoon emo and not nazi shit 🤢#thank god i'm so fucking forgetful like. i thought the skull and crossbones studs were THE SICKEST SHIT #and then i forgor. to buy some. and then i learned it was a nazi symbol like okay. nevermind.#but like again i've had the belt since middle school it is a kids belt and also black parade death imagery and cartoon emo ect #and also just. vaguely gestering to the rest of the jacket and just all of me in general. like.#i hope people can look at me and think 'yeah he's fine. just a little weirdo about it' LMFAOOOO #anyways!!! happy pride!!! i'm still wearing this in june and nothing will stop me!!! not even heatstroke!!!!! YAAAAY 🩷🩷🩷#my projects #diy punk #mcr

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junggunz · 11 months

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♫₊˚. windbreaker characters and their playlists

an: it's just for fun and based on vibes !!! you can click their names and see the spotify playlists i made for each character.

✧˖°Jay Jo:

I honestly don’t know how to describe Jay’s music taste besides it’s like…Head In The Clouds festival lineup with a few extras.

Keshi, BIBI, Giriboy, Beenzino, DPR IAN, DPR Live, Joji, Zion. T, etc.

Probably listens to classical music while studying (not always by choice). Likes listening to white noise to relax.

✧˖°Dom Kang:

Dom listens to a mix of Hip-hop, rap, and R&B

Travis Scott, Drake, Future, Nas, Juicy J, Kendrick Lamar Chief Keef, Illionaire, The Weeknd, Roy Woods, Partynextdoor, Hi-Lite, Playboi Carti, etc.

Considered auditioning for Show Me The Money at least once. Dom also tries to listen to the same music as Minu and Yuna to expand his music tastes.

✧˖°Vinny Hong:

Emo rap/Soundcloud golden era/Alternative sounding music.

$uicideboy$, Bones, Ghostemane, Lil Peep, Playboi Carti (why do you think he got along with Dom so well?)

Sometimes he just goes full edge lord and listens to bands like Three Days Grace, Linkin Park, Senses Fail, Deftones and Chiodos.

✧˖°Minu Yoon:

Indie/Alternative pop sounding bands?? I feel like listening to these bands makes guys more popular with girls. And prior to Mia, we all know Minu was a ladies man.

Chase Atlantic, Cigarettes after Sex, The Neighborhood, The 1975, LANY

Also a big fan of Frank Ocean, Tame Impala, and Steve Lacy.

I think he lowkey copied Yuna's music taste even though he used to make fun of what she listens to.

✧˖°June:

Listens to a mix of K-Hiphop and indie. Definitely attends a lot of concerts with Heri.

JUNNY (duh), Crucial Star, DMEANOR, Epik High, ASH ISLAND, pH-1, Meloh, Hoody, Rheehab, etc

Celeb crush is probably Camo. He plays lo-fi in the bike shop while working.

✧˖°Wooin:

Club rat so by nature his favorite genres are edm or hip hop.

As long as he doesn't have to listen to the Top 100s/radio music, he's vibin. Nothing sucks more than three djs in a row playing the same song remixed in a slightly different way.

I think he likes A$AP Rocky, Oliver Francis, French Montana, Rae Sremmurd, Migos, Tyga, Flux Pavillion, RL Grime, Yellow Claw, Carnage, and Steve Aoki the most though.

✧˖°Joker:

Hangs out with Wooin, so he's definitely listening to edm or hip hop as well. Just a different end of the spectrum and he actually has specific tastes.

Big gym bro energy means bro step type music lol. He’s listening to Skrillex, Borgore, Excision, and Svdden Death.

21 Savage, Denzel Curry, Trippie Redd, King Von, and Lil Durk are his go-to rap artists.

All of his music is high energy and aggressive.

#windbreaker headcanons #windbreaker webtoon #idfk i just got bored while sorting out my spotify #playlist #song recommendations #junggunz.txt

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kairoot · 5 months

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NOT YOUR FAULT: feelings not mutual..

masterlist.

it had been about 2 weeks since you and jay decided to “take things slow”. it hadn’t been a good 2 weeks, though.

sunghoon had been ignoring you and jay, keeping a distance and staying to himself. you tried starting conversations with him, making jokes, asking him to eat with you; none of it seemed to work.

if only you hadn’t posted that screenshot, none of this would happen.. maybe, just maybe, he would be a little bit more understanding..

Jay had been in his room all day, lying down and pacing. He’d racked his brain, stressing over the tiny things and he’d only been in a relationship for 2 weeks. He was dating his best friend’s little sister and now he won’t even look Jay’s way. He’d even gotten to the point where he started to doubt everything. ‘What if this is a mistake?’ ‘What if she doesn’t even like me?’

Thoughts flooded his head all at once. He didn’t eat today.. He didn’t even say hello to Y/n.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the bottom of his messages.

He took the ‘read’ as a yes, and listened to Nari’s instructions. It’s been ages since these two have even spoke.

He grabbed his black windbreaker and slipped on some sneakers. Jay walked out of his room and into the living room where most of the members were scattered. Some on the couch.

He was almost to the door when one of them called out. “Hey, Jay? You okay? Where are you going?”

It was Y/n. The one person Jay had been stressing over. He wasn’t even sure if he really wanted to see her right now, due to all the thoughts flooding his mind.

“Oh, uh yeah. Listen, don’t worry, I’m just going—“ Jay began to wrap an arm around her as he spoke, but caught a glimpse of Sunghoon in the kitchen, glaring at them both. Not directly, but from the corner of his eye. Jay patted Y/n’s arm, glancing up at the blonde in the kitchen. “— to the music store. I think one of my favorite bands dropped..”

Y/n nodded as Jay placed a piece of hair behind her ear. He acted carefully, though. Not wanting to cause any more trouble with his friend.

“Okay, well, be back soon? Eat something..” She sounded worried. Concerned. Jay thought for a minute, maybe she did care for him. Maybe she did like him. Or was that all in his head too?

Jay stood in the January winter, looking around for any sign of a brunette. He shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets, going to take his phone out.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” A voice spoke from his right. His gaze met with just the person he was looking for. Her lips turned in a smug smirk.

“Nari,” Jay let out a breath, leaping to engulf her. She wrapped her arms around his small frame, smiling completely this time.

“Jongseong,” Nari stepped away from the hug. Her face more soft, but serious now. “Haven’t seen you since the breakup. Only messages here and there.”

“For the last time Nari, that was not a breakup. We were never together.” He sighed, sitting on the wooden bench. Nari scoffed, bundling herself into her coat, taking a seat next to him.

“Hm. The way you held me said different.” Her voice rasped, recalling the way Jay would hold her when times were rough. When she couldn’t even fix a proper meal for her and her mother.

Jay didn’t speak, staring down at his shoes. He knew him and Nari had their moments. They were never official, though.

She cleared her throat, “So, what’s the deal? Manager scolding you again?” Nari snorted.

Jay scoffed in annoyance, he shook his head. “Uh, nah, it’s actually real serious this time. I’m in a relationship.”

Nari made a surprised noise, waiting for him to continue. “Well, who‘s the lucky gal?”

Jay hesitated for a moment. He recalled Nari hating Y/n so much, during his survival show. She went as far as threatening to run away from Jay. She truly liked him so much but couldn’t stand the thought of someone else getting in the way.

“It’s—“ He started, but his phone lit up with a message notification. The contact read ‘Y/n 💓’.

Nari glanced down at his phone, only to do a double take with her eyes. She felt her heart sink. Not necessarily in a sad way. More in a jealous, angry way. She would never admit that she did actually feel sad at some point. Now it all just felt like rage.

“So, it’s her, huh?” Her tongue poked at the inside of her cheek, her leg bouncing slightly.

“Yeah, uh, two weeks.” Jay flipped his phone over, turning it on silent. He felt the air tense up, causing him to sweat. Even in the cold.

He knew how angry Nari got when the topic of Y/n came up. Even the sound of her name irritated Nari.

She hummed, looking out at the white covering the grass.

“I’m sorry, it’s just.. I feel like, maybe she doesn’t even like me. Her brother hates me now. My own best friend.” Jay put his arm on the back of the bench. He stared down at the white ground.

Nari stared at him, her legs curled up on the bench. She would never say it, but she secretly hoped it was true. That Y/n didn’t like him. And that she could be with the one she wanted.

“Well..” She chuckled, shrugging. She didn’t really know how to respond to him since that’s actually what she wanted.

“Well?”

“Well, what do you want me to say? I mean, it’s a possibility..” She mumbled the last part under her breath.

Jay huffed, shaking his head. He stood up to leave but Nari stopped him.

“Before you get mad, let’s go shop for a few vinyls.” Nari shoved his side playfully. She stood up heading towards the small music store.

Jay sighed, eventually getting up to follow her.

—

milan’s notes: AFTER A YEAR AND A HALF IM FINALLY POSTING THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE EXCUSE THE POOR EDITING AND WRITING, AS A SAID I WROTE THIS A YEAR AGO.

taglist: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura (message or comment to be added)

#kairoot #enhypen #not your fault : kairoot #not your fault #enhypen smau #enha smau #kpop smau

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