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criceofpain · 2 years

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bmw | sim jaeyun (edited and reposted)

summary: now that your brother's flying to california for college, a new guy takes over his spot to take you places. he's fine...but you don't exactly know what's going on inside his head whenever your eyes meet.

genre: fluff, smut, angst

pairing: chaebol!female!reader x chauffeur!jake

word count: 9511

warnings: y/n is taehyun's little sister, soobin's a double-dipper, slut-shaming, cursing, violence, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) mentions of alcohol, adopted jokes (let's blame jay for it lol)

"kahit anong puwesto, kung saan ka kuntento, yung titig ko diretso lang sa'yo habang binabayo."

You couldn’t tell whether today was a miracle, or a start of a long-term onslaught.

You can clearly remember the feeling of ChoI Soobin’s fingertips sliding down your arm seconds before you take a step out of the Korean barbecue place. His small smile, his stare, and the way your name rolls off of his mouth—these were just a few things you were able to pick up from thirty minutes ago. You weren’t into introverted and reserved people that much, but he was surely a different breed. He was sweet and sensible, anything you’d want in a man.

Now, you sit on the passenger seat of your Mercedes-Benz AG, with hands that are far from calm. You instinctively pick on the heavy fabric of your jeans, the scratching sound prominent in the small and silent space of the coupe car. The sound tickles your ears in a subtle manner, but the person beside you couldn’t really say the same.

Kang Taehyun drives your old, god-forsaken vehicle back home, eyes about to give out as he keeps his hands on the chipped leather of the steering wheel. He has no idea why he’s spending the worst days driving his little sister back and forth from whatever hellhole she’s been in when he can just work on another blueprint to impress your hedonistic mother.

The traffic lights blind you, so much that you couldn’t keep your eyes open for a good five seconds, so you resort to staring at the view through the glass pane of the car door. Taehyun notices this, and for the first time in years, calls you in an attempt to start a conversation.

“Was that man your tenth date already?” Taehyun says, voice almost resembling a mumble as his deft hand switches gears. “Looks kinda sketchy.”

“Fifth,” you correct, running a hand over your hair. You almost chortle at Taehyun's statement if it weren’t for the amount of meat you’ve eaten weighing you down and making you drowsy. “You haven’t even met him, why the assumption?”

“Does Kang Y/N find them unsolicited?” he jokes, corners of his lips curling up in disbelief. “FYI, I’m your big brother and I'm allowed to say things about your mediocre dates.”

For almost the whole duration of your teenage years, you couldn’t see yourself vying for what people called a “long-term relationship”. For you, a day in life is either books or booze, but never boys. boyfriends were either too chicken to exceed bare minimum, or too much of an asshole that their mothers question the nine months they’ve conceived their sons. At least, that’s what you’ve picked up from friends with failed flings.

It was your way to avoid getting involved in connections that were bound to end.

Life started to change when you and Taehyun turned nineteen. He was told to shy away from getting another girl laid, whereas you were encouraged by your mother to go get dick. Taehyun lived a pretty provocative but ironically steady life, given that he was older—and a male. it was a total opposite of yours—bland, silent, and almost stagnant.

“Tyun.” you whine, “Can you please shut up for once?”

he rolls his eyes at you. “I'm leaving for college tomorrow. are four hours too long for you?”

“My attention span is shit, you know that—”

“I said I'm leaving for college.” Taehyun echoes, this time firmly and laced with disinterest.

His statement promptly shuts you up, and immediately you feel uneasiness making its way all around you. What am I supposed to say? It wasn’t the best thing to hear at this time. Somehow, you forgot about the fact that you just bagged a successful date which was all pushed aside because of the news from your brother. So much for all those things.

It wasn’t like you were going to cry or be depressed because you wouldn’t see him for a year or so, but his absence was something you needed to get used to.

“Already?” you mumble, hitching a breath as you wait for his next words. you couldn’t look or take a glance at him, at a loss for words.

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” he mutters. He steps on the brake pedal as the lights turn red. in fears of colliding with the dashboard, you grip the handrail in reflex. “considering you bicker with me all the time.”

“Who the fuck would be happy with it?” you deadpan. To prove that you weren’t lying, you finally look him dead straight in the eyes. He responds with a slight chuckle, as if he’s saying ‘I know you love me, bitch’. “You’re one of the reasons I'm still sane.”

“Sane? You?” he shakes his head. “Not now, not ever.”

You throw a stray paper ball at him in defense. How dare he think of you so lowly!

“Fuck you.” you spit out, flipping him off after. his chuckles increase in volume as he watches your patience run thin. “If I wasn’t sane I could’ve been banned from fucking, you know.”

“Foul.” he hisses, stepping on the gas pedal, catching you off-guard and pulling you against your seat.

The whole ride with Taehyun was lighthearted, but still too boring for your liking. You had to listen to songs from his playlist that were totally out of your musical style as a way to “repay his service”. You weren’t really the R&B loving type of listener, but who were you to retaliate? Your big brother just did you a big favor.

You were so used to doing things alone—so much that your mother thought it was okay to leave you alone and let you learn things the hard way. For someone who’s the youngest in her family, you knew your way around stuff very well. it was as if you were an AI, a sponge that absorbs things easily and gets them straight in your head to process. This included driving by yourself… in a hand-me-down car.

You hated Taehyun's guts, but you couldn’t live without him, either.

“Are you sure you did not go over the speed limit or is it just my anxiety?” you ask out of the blue as the clicking sounds of unfastening seat belts slightly tickle your ears.

“Hop off.” Taehyun says rather curtly as he turns off the engine.

Your eyes shot wide open. “What?”

“I said hop off, we’re home.”

“You could’ve just worded it nicely, Tyun.” you roll your eyes at him, well aware that he was only playing around. He chortles. “Thanks for driving safely for once.”

“I always drive safely, what do you mean?” He raises a brow. For a person who lives recklessly, Taehyun has the patience of a saint when it comes to heavy traffic and slow drives. “Anyway, someone will come replace me soon, so don’t worry about going on trips alone.”

You blink. “Why does that sound like a bad idea?” new people. The thought alone scared you.

He chuckles. “What? You and I both know you can’t be left alone.”

A rush of anxiety makes its way in your chest as thoughts run in your head like an olympic marathon. You feel cold droplets of sweat slide down your forehead, which were unnoticeable in the dark as you peek at your reflection on the rear view mirror. Meanwhile, Taehyun, having known you for his whole life, is unsure whether to ignore your antics or continue the conversation. To him, you seem too dazed to even unfasten your seat belt, so he reaches his hand out and attempts to do so.

Suddenly, you slap his hand away, still deep in thought.

“Ow!” Taehyun winces. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You mean to tell me,” you mumble, drawing out a tired sigh from your badly chapped lips. “Someone’s gonna come take your place?”

“Yeah?”

“And this person will be my, quote-unquote, personal driver…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Will sit on the driver’s seat…”

“With you on the backseat, of course.”

“Kang Taehyun!” you grumble, finally unfastening your seat belt, yanking the bands off of your body in frustration. “Are you sure about this?”

You’ve never wanted to slap yourself so badly until now. How did it not cross my mind? You knew very well that your big brother doesn’t say or mean any bullshit when it comes to you or your mother, except when he’s drunk. You were pretty full of bullshit, but not in a bad way. Whatever nonsense you say actually makes sense, thanks to your innate (and threatening) ability of persuading people.

“Little sis,” he calls, catching you off-guard. He hasn’t used the endearment for long. It felt like both of you were five again. You inhale a deep breath and take a glance at him. “I trust you on this.”

You know very well that he does.

Taehyun gives you a reassuring look, and you couldn’t help but to let a laugh escape from your chest. Was Kang Taehyun getting sentimental in front of you? A part of you wanted to push the record button on your phone and film him as he spews a string of profanities and screams at you to stop laughing.

“Yeah, right, oppa.”

Five days have passed since Taehyun has flown to California to pursue his dreams, and you have never felt more left out in your whole entire life.

You could’ve been country-hopping, too, but your overly attached mother had taken control of your whereabouts that even Jeju meant you’d be a million miles away from her. She'd always say it’s because you were her only daughter and that you should be kept safe; little did she know that you were slowly getting out of your shell with Taehyun's help. You never really understood her logic.

Now you stand in front of your vanity mirror, running your eyes along the length of your flowy dress. A small bag hangs on your shoulder, which partly contains a good amount of self-defense tools—because Mama didn’t raise a weak bitch.

Today is a brunch date with soobin, which meant you had to tone down, get rid of the bling on your body as much as possible. Dressing simple was one of the things you weren’t a fan of as the daughter of a business tycoon. Why settle for the bare minimum when you can go all out, right?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” Soobin says from the other line with bustling noises in the background. you assumed he got into the place earlier, judging by the jazz music playing. “The traffic’s kinda heavy, you know?”

“Soob, I'm fine.” you mutter, stifling the smile in your voice as you fix your hair. “Someone will drive me there. and besides, I assume you’ve already saved us a table.” you slide into your wedges. “Are you willing to give that up?”

“Aigoo, Y/N.” he chuckles in defeat. “You always know what to say.”

Did you? or was it just you mastering the art of avoiding to serve as an inconvenience?

“That's a relief.” you reply, strutting out of your room and pulling the door closed. your heels make a satisfying clicking sound against the marble flooring of your penthouse, to which you smugly smile as you walk. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered, Mr. Choi.”

“Hey, don’t do this while I'm in public!”

Soobin’s laugh rings in your ear as you spot a pitch black sedan car parked on your driveway, completely diverting your attention from him. You gasp slightly, marveling at how neat the vehicle looked and how it shone against the sunlight. You can tell it’s been maintained and taken care of well, judging by how the engine sounds and how clean the wheel rims were. you wouldn’t be so surprised if the driver tells you he brings it to the car wash every week.

Fascinated, your mouth hangs open, becoming more and more unaware of a brown-haired man stepping out of the car to walk at your doorstep.

Just as the wall blocks the car from your view, you snap out of your thoughts and switch your attention back to Soobin, who, by the way, has been constantly whining your name from the other line of the phone. You can hear the nervous tapping of his fingers against what sounded like a wooden table, and you immediately scramble out of the stairs and into the living room.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you still there?” Soobin asks, voice laced with worry. Sweetheart? You inwardly chortle. “I can hear you walking.”

You force out a chuckle. “Ah, yes, still here.” you take careful steps down the stairs, “Anyway, I gotta end this call. Driver’s here.”

“Alright. see you in a bit?”

“Yeah, see you.” you reply, immediately ending the call as the telltale sound of the revving engine fills your ears.

As much as you were excited to meet Soobin, a part of you worried about a lot of things so badly. What if I mess up? What if I eat messily in front of him? Would he call me a pig? A glutton? What if I say something too blunt that is something out of his liking? This wasn’t you.

Why were you suddenly becoming a worrywart?

You take a brief pause before finally walking to the doors of your penthouse, sucking in a deep breath as you try to compose yourself. On your finger hangs a bunch of keys chained together, dangling as you reach out to pull the big slab of wood inward. Quickly, you step out of the door, shallow breaths leaving your mouth as you lock each and every knob.

Somehow, the rows of locks embedded in your door gave you a sense of safety—something to accompany you, being alone in such a wide space. You can clearly remember how the door looked like when you bought the property—risky and empty. Guess who helped you with the extra locks? Taehyun did.

“Miss Y/N?” a voice from the driveway startles you, making you stop in your tracks. The voice was rich, velvety, and deep—one that was too attractive to ignore.

You slowly turn your head around to see a young man, presumably in his twenties, leaning against the hood of what turns out to be a BMW sedan car. Your eyebrows slightly raise at his choice of brand, finding it interesting that the car was a model you haven’t seen in exhibits. rich people would always say things such as “the owner is what makes his vehicle”, and you knew right now that they weren’t lying. Still, you’re unsure whether it was his car or a company-owned one. if it’s the latter, you wouldn’t believe it at all.

Clad in a three-piece suit and a long coat, he sports a small smile, pinkish lips slightly curved up. His posture was flattering, but far from arrogant. You can tell he’s the prim and proper type. However, one thing distracts you from all of those facts—his eyes.

They’re beautifully round, with black orbs dark as night. A slight glisten makes them sparkle in the sunlight, making them appear more of a warm brown. Was he eyeing you like a hawk? No. He’s barely doing anything, just making eye contact with you as a sign of respect. Don’t avoid his stare, Y/N. Don’t do it.

“Hello.” you manage to say as the man’s appearance catches you off guard. taking strides to the driveway, you return a smile to him, saying “I’m ready to go. I assume you already know me, mister. How do I address you?”

“Jake.” he says, the name rolling off his tongue smoothly. unexpectedly, he does look like a Jake. you nod. “Jake Sim. No need to call me mister, I'm just the same age as you and Tyun.”

you softly gasp at the mention of Taehyun’s name. However, you wouldn’t be so surprised if he was a part of Taehyun's friend circle. Your brother chose good people as friends—ironically, people who are also equally evil. Mostly composed of mama’s boys, rebels, and wannabe chaebols, his friends sort of became your greatest enemies. He'd ditch you for them.

The ride was comfortably silent, with soft lo-fI music filling your ears as the gentle hum of the engine calms you down. Jake would initiate small talk with you, asking stuff that wasn’t too personal. You asked him stuff back, which he wasn’t hesitant to answer. At times, he would ask about your relationship with Taehyun as siblings. Who were you to lie about the Kang Taehyun picking on you? It was like a session, except there weren’t nosey cameras and a bad talk show host. He'd pass as a good friend, except you didn’t know him very well yet.

After half an hour and a series of traffic complaints, Jake finally stops at the facade of the restaurant. He stifles a chuckle as he reads the signage on top of the establishment—"Hongdae Bar". Her date could’ve taken her to somewhere more decent than this crowded place, he thinks. He keeps his mouth shut, shakes his head and steals a glance at you scrambling out of your seat belt.

“Enjoy your date, Y/N.” Jake says with a reassuring smile. “Tyun will give you my number, call me when you need to be picked up. Shall I escort you in?”

“There's no need.” you shake your head, anxiety rising in your chest as you fix your hair in the rear view mirror. “I'm fine. Thanks for the ride, Jake!”

He chuckles, pressing a button to open one of the backseat doors. You step out of the car as he watches in silence, letting the warm, humid air hit your skin. Anticipation fills you with every step closer to the door. Soobin, here I come.

“no biggie. Tell Taehyun I said—”

Thud.

“hi…”

He shrugs and stops for a good minute, seeing you jog to the restaurant happily. your dress flows perfectly with the wind it blows. She’s cute. He fixes his eyes back on the road, with his right hand finding the gear stick. He hated u-turning the most, especially in a crowded street packed with vehicles—bumper to bumper. He mutters a small “fuck” and starts steering the wheel in careful motions, staring back and forth between his side and rear view mirror.

However, as he was about to step on the gas pedal, the sound of screaming through his rolled down window stopped him from his tracks.

“Respectfully, are you out of your mind?“ You spit out, palm resting on your cheek as the stinging feeling stains it red. As much as you wanted to express your frustration toward the sudden assault, you were more worried about your foundation smudging.

"Are you out of your mind?” the raging lady in front of you snarls, voice hoarse from all of her screaming. Rather than looking intimidating, she’s more funny to you—clenched jaws, hair all over the place, and with the posture of a sumo wrestler. Her fury is very obvious, and the last thing you wanted was to match her energy and embarrass yourself in a crowd.

What happened, really?

It was just you walking happily inside the resto, when suddenly, a hand grabbed your hair and an impromptu hair-pulling session started. Of course, you weren’t too much of a killjoy to stop her, so instead, you pulled out a bottle of pepper spray and used it to unlatch you from her. What confused you more was that Soobin knew this lady. He referred to her as “Lia"—a pretty name that definitely did not suit her. You assumed she was a female friend or a coworker, or none of those things.

Of all the things her parents would have named her, why “Lia”?

How petty of her. The scene she just caused leads you to your current situation—you standing face to face with two people holding the crazy lady by the arms. A security guard on the left and soobin on her right. You couldn’t understand why Soobin was acting all defensive and avoiding questions from you, but you had a problem to fix.

"Who are you to interfere with my life, you whore?” Lia seethes, trying to break free from the hold of two tall men in her arms. “Answer me!”

“Lia!” Soobin shouts, strengthening his grip on Lia's arms. “Keep your voice down, damn it.”

you defensively cross your arms and say, “Sis, I don’t even know you. what’s your deal?”

You lost count of how many times you’ve stopped yourself from calling her a Karen, because one, she’s not an entitled white woman, just an asian that’s more berserk; and two, she just isn’t deserving of any title at all. You didn’t know what it was with people loving to garner public attention in the worst ways possible.

“I'm pregnant!” she continues, and your frown intensifies. Soobin gasps, audible enough for you to hear. Why was he the first one to react? You shift your gaze from Lia to Soobin, whose face is now as pale as snow. You raise an eyebrow at him, letting him know that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from now on.

“You’re pregnant.” you echo, hiding your clenched fists that were itching to throw a punch at someone. Your breaths get more and more shallow as you try to piece all the information you were receiving altogether. “What does it have to do with me?”

“That man you’re having a date with,” Lia sighs, finally coming down from her plummeting rage. “he’s the father.”

Oh. You suck in a gasp, immediately feeling disappointed by what you had just heard. A part of you wanted to search for answers and missing clues, another part wanted to say ‘I should’ve known’ and move on. ChoI Soobin was a blind date, after all. Your progress with him went by so quickly that you were slowly letting your guard down and confiding in him. Moreover, you’ve just begun to realize that his mouth was filled with half arrogance, half bullshit.

You might just add today’s situation into your series of unfortunate events.

“Soobin?”

“Y/N… I can explain.” soobin stutters, eyes wide as they avoid your gaze. there was no way he could lie to you at this point. You fix your gaze back on Lia, hands on her small bump that you only noticed just now. She was indeed pregnant.

“You know what?” you mumble mindlessly, taking a step closer towards him, letting your heels click loudly against the floor. You can tell that he’s already chickened out, judging by how tight he held Lia's hand. “I've seen enough.”

You grab him by the chin and turn his head your way, making him face you. No matter how hard he averts his eyes, you keep following his stare like a hawk vying for its prey. What you do next shocks everyone—you knee him in the balls.

A satisfied chuckle leaves your mouth as soobin winces in pain. You stare at his agony, feeling no remorse, no guilt, no nothing. This catches everyone’s attention, and people start whispering among themselves. “You want attention? I'll give you attention.”

“And you,” you jab a finger at Lia. “You could’ve made sure your man wasn’t double-dipping. He was the one who was apparently 'single’ and rubbing his single life all over my face. And if anyone is a whore, it’s him and not me.”

With a forced grin, you step out of the restaurant, turning back to see soobin on the floor and lia with her brimming with tears. “You’re lucky to have a dick, ChoI Soobin. Use that wisely.”

On the other hand, Jake was impatiently waiting in the car, hearing the commotion from afar. To say he was shocked at how bluntly and brazenly you spoke was an understatement. Indeed, getting stood up by your date is bad, but getting lied to is hell on earth. He understood where you were coming from. It’d be rude for him to intervene when he barely knew you, so he keeps still.

Taehyun was right. Maybe you were a little bit hard to handle, but that doesn’t change the fact that he finds you cute and attractive.

This isn’t the first time he has seen you, but you have no idea about it. See, Taehyun would put up pictures of you and him on his instagram—on trips, at home, in uni, everything.

“I'm so sorry you had to hear that.” you say, shooting Jake an apologetic look.

“No, don’t apologize.” he reassures, taking a quick glance at you through the rear view mirror. It became a habit he has developed ever since he started driving. “You were on the right, Y/N.”

“Was I?” you ask, waiting for what he would say next. Curiosity has been killing you. “Was it right to kick a double-dipping man in the balls?”

“Oh, Y/N.” Jake chuckles. “That’s not even half of the punishment he deserves, trust me.”

The first thing he spots is your lips, the lower one tucked in as you nibble on it. As much as he wanted to stare at them for longer, he had a job to do. accidents are like mines that he needed to avoid, especially when he’s doing favors for a friend. After all, he sees trust as something of high value and essence. He can’t possibly mess up doing something he’s very skilled at just because of a passenger in his backseat, right? He knows he’s better than that.

He steals a glance at your lips again, marveling at how perfectly plump they are. they’re tinted a tinge of red with a sheer gloss reflecting against the sunlight. He realizes that he never really paid attention to them until now, and heck, how stunning you look as you run your tongue over them. Strangely, this has him thinking about how it would feel like to kiss—

“Green light.”

One could say he was a bit too distracted on your ride back home.

Time flew by so quickly, and it has been two months since Jake came into picture as your trusty chauffeur. You’ve gotten used to his presence almost every time you stepped inside his car, and he could pretty much stay the same. He'd get comfortable with you—cracking jokes and dropping some TMI’s you never expected to hear from him in the first place. you, meanwhile, would sometimes catch him staring at you whenever the lights turned red. Surprisingly, he didn’t creep you out at all. He was rather endearing.

Was it just you or was he getting more and more attractive every time you met? Maybe it was the way he wears his suits or the way he styles his hair. It could be his golden retriever aura that he’s picked up from being a dog dad, or as he’d rather call himself, a sexy wolf.

Blind dates? They traumatized you after the Soobin situation. Taehyun has encouraged you to delete all of your dating apps, which you unfortunately forgot to do as you were too busy juggling between school and social life… or maybe you weren’t just ready to let go of the satisfying feeling of someone taking interest in you.

And alas, just as you were starting to change your life for the better, your mother sets you up with a businessman’s son who goes by the name of Lee Heeseung. You were in no way to react violently in her authority.

“I need your help on this, Jake.” you say, cheek in between your teeth as you fidget with your fingers.

“Wait, me?” he says from the other hand, completely astonished. You can picture him with his eyebrows up to his forehead and his puppy eyes growing wide. “Did you try to ask your big brother about this?”

You dramatically sigh. “Tyun is probably too busy to cater to me right now.” Or maybe he’s just woken up. “I'm starting to think maybe he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Aw, Y/N.” Jake mumbles, clicking his tongue after. “You've come to the right person.” Shuffling sounds follow. “Who's this guy?”

“The thing is…” you reply through your teeth, hesitantly. “I forgot his name.”

Jake chuckles in disbelief. “What? Are you kidding me right now?”

“Not a bit.” you shake your head, carefully putting on your lipstick as your eyes fix on the mirror. “I could've been laughing right now.”

“I'd like to hear you laugh one more time, doll.”

You raise your brows at the mention of the pet name, completely not expecting it from Jake. The word sends a faint shiver all over your body, especially down south where your thighs close together. Not to mention the way he made a harmless word sound so sensual. you shake it off, diverting your attention back to your makeup.

“Well, that was random.” you comment, trying to hide the fluster in your voice. “Anyways, we better get going now, shall we?”

“I'm at your door right now. get going, pretty lady.”

Little did you know that after this phone call, more misfortunes were to come your way.

Just a few minutes after Jake brought you to the museum, Heeseung's chosen date spot, you found out that the establishment was closed—for good. frustrated, you couldn’t help but to wonder how your date had no idea of this—maybe he just didn’t know what he was doing and planning in the first place. no plan b, no tricks up his sleeve, no nothing.

You tried your luck again, to Jake’s surprise. He wasn’t sure whether to tell Taehyun what you’ve been up to or just let your free spirit get to know the filthiest and the trashiest of men. Park Sunghoon was too awkward and too soft-spoken for you that you weren’t able to engage in a proper conversation with him. worse, he spilt red wine all over your dress. Was he a really graceful figure skater? You highly doubted that.

After two failed dates with two different men, you couldn’t help but to fill the car rides with your incessant ranting—a total opposite of what you and Jake would talk about everytime you would meet. As much as Jake didn’t understand why you would pick random guys you find on dating apps or rely on people your mom thought were “the best for you”, he didn’t want to pry.

“If all else fails, I suggest you pause on the dating shit.” Jake’s words were crystal clear in your head as you sit face to face with your third date for the month. he goes by Park Jongseong, but prefers to be called Jay. he dresses pretty simply for someone who’s filthy rich, and he possessed features any man would kill to have—the geometric jawline, the smoldering stare, and of course, a high rank in the socialite field.

However, you seem to forget all of it when he does something unexpectedly rude. Instead of talking about actual stuff socialites would discuss in the daily, he was indirectly smothering all of his wealth and riches all over your face, not even giving you a chance to open up a topic you’d like. it was always him, him, him. He made the whole date all about himself.

You could still handle all of his narcissism, but when he makes a comment about you being fatherless and “adopted”, tears unknowingly brim your eyes in both sadness and anger. The traumatic experience suddenly riles you up, and sends your mind into a frenzy.

Of course, this turns you the heck off, so you ditch him—not without splashing champagne all over his face.

Not bothering to look back, you grab your things, walk away, and let your tears fall down your cheeks. Soft sobs escape from your mouth as the harsh words replayed in your head. Why did he have to go there? He could’ve picked on your clothes, or your makeup—it would’ve hurt less.

On the other hand, Jake leans leisurely against the car, patiently waiting for you to come out. He wasn’t really expecting anything special, or good news in general.

However, his thoughts disappoint him once he hears the crescendo of sobs and the noisy clicking of heels. He immediately turns his head, tenses up at the sight of you crying helplessly. Sure, he’s seen some of your misfortunes, but this was the first time he’s actually seen you cry. He immediately jogs towards you, opening the backseat door. To his surprise, you mindlessly sit on the passenger seat, wanting this day to end so bad.

“Jake?” you call out, face furrowed in utter frustration as you lean against the passenger seat in defeat. Jake stares at you in bewilderment as you nonchalantly pull the car door closed, which was what he’s supposed to do. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I ask you something first?” he asks back immediately, eyes fixed on the rear view mirror. He wasn’t used to not seeing you through it as you always sat in the backseat, maintaining a safe distance from him.

“Shoot,” you croak out, wiping your damp cheek with the back of your hand. “and make it quick.”

he chuckles. Where did Y/N’s sweet demeanor go? Normally, you’d just draw out a long sigh and talk to him as nicely as possible, trying to forget whatever misfortune has happened to your disastrous blind date encounters. He had no idea why you were a bawling mess, and he could only stare at your pained expression through the dimmest of lights. He wanted to do something, but he was trying his best to keep your relationship with him civil.

“Why are you seated beside me and not behind me?” Right. you were supposed to be on one side of the backseat, either striking up conversations on rare occasions or scrolling through instagram to further push your confidence six feet from the ground as you pass by girls who were “effortlessly beautiful”.

“Because opening and closing the door for me takes ages.” you answer, taking the handkerchief from Jake’s hand and dragging it all over your eyes. You bid your beautiful winged eyeliner farewell, as well as your smokey eyeshadow in the process, and you couldn’t care less about looking like someone who hasn’t slept in years.

“That’s it?”

He shakes his head, about to fasten his seat belt when your hand reaches out to stop him. The feeling of your gentle hand all over his wrist makes him feel uneasy, but he couldn’t budge. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, heartbeat speeding up as your stare fixes onto his lap, his crotch. Noticing this, he takes his free hand and unlatches it from his wrist, shaking off the unsolicited, sexual thoughts making their way in his head.

He clears his throat, not bothering to take a look at you another time as his seat belt clicks closed. “Y/N, we have to go—”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Shit.

She beat me to it. he holds in a gasp, eyes wavering as they scan your face. He wanted to know if you were for real, or if it was the alcohol that got into your nerves. You reeked of perfume and bourbon, the mixed scent filling the inside of the car. your eyes are pleading through disheveled bangs and clumpy mascara, and for him to not find them irresistible would be strange.

You had no idea what came out of your mouth; there was nothing you could do to take it back or either, apologize and tell Jake to pretend that he heard nothing. Not a word forms in your head, nor a muscle moves as he proceeds to scan your face. You were both rooted in your spots as fear and embarrassment arises.

“You what?” Jake asks, making himself sound clueless when in his head, your legs are splayed out along the backseat as he rams his cock in you. He proceeds to undress you with his eyes, thinking about what the skin under your dress would look like, how’d it feel under his touch.

He knew that what he felt towards you was kind of wrong. He was supposed to be someone professional and of high manners, but now, he just possesses none of those.

You squeeze your eyes shut, avoiding his stare in fears of mortifying yourself. “Just say no so I can move on.” Please say yes. you wanted to forget all the misadventure you’ve had for the past hour—how Park Jongseong completely turned you off while being a total jerk. You needed a good distraction, a hit of euphoria to somehow help with your self-worth—

“No.”

Your eyes shot open, Jake’s answer catching you off-guard. feeling your heart drop down to your stomach, you slowly inch your body away from him. It was something you expected him to say given the fact that he was a chauffeur hired by your mother—a professional driver, but why did it disappoint you? did you actually hope for him to fuck you? Absurd. You wanted to jump out of the car, run away, and never show your face to him again.

Y/N, you basic bitch. You’re a fucking idiot to assume all this.

you manage to utter out a “Ah, forget whatever you heard then.” despite your embarrassment. Was it worth it? No. Did you feel like you were going to cry? yes—as if you didn’t just waste a bucket of tears in frustration.

He nods, starts the engine, switches gears, and gets the car moving.

It was a silent ride, but the silence was far from relaxing as scenes from minutes ago played in your head. “regretting your life decisions” was one way to put it, but meeting Jake didn’t give you regrets at all. He was pretty decent for someone your age and has the textbook knowledge of a twenty-five year old (for an unknown reason), and boy, was he fine as fuck. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his slicked back hair, his array of neatly ironed suits, and the way he maneuvers the vehicle in choreographed motions.

He was something else.

After what felt like forever, the vehicle finally comes to a halt. Jake finally lets go of the sigh he’s held back for a while, and looks at you, waiting for your next move.

“Are we there yet?” you squint, rolling your window down to take a look at where the car stopped.

You find yourself looking at an empty space that’s dimly lit and secluded—a vacant lot. there wasn’t much to see except for a demolished convenience store and a blinking street light that was about to bust out.

“Where are we?” you mumble, hands instinctively gripping whatever you were holding onto. it was definitely a place you haven’t been to, but the last thing you’d want was to embarrass yourself further, so you struggle to hide the panic. “This isn’t home.”

A deep chuckle booms from behind you, and a pair of fingertips make their way around your ankle. you freeze. Your eyes slightly widen as you feel your heels gently being tugged off of you, letting your feet breathe from their confines.

It was then that you realized how you looked in Jake’s point of view—and how he smirked as he took in the view. you were bent over on the passenger seat, your ass stuck out in front of his face. You weren’t aware of your dress riding up and down your thighs as it gave him a peek of the wet patch in your silk panties, either.

“Sweetheart,” Jake calls, gently pulling you by the waist and back into the car. You sit back down, barefoot and still in an agitated state—too panicked that you weren’t able to register the pet name. “Did you really think I’d fuck you in that crappy restaurant parking lot?”

“Sim Jaeyun.” you squeak out as he unfastens his seat belt and inches closer to you. “You did not just—”

“And also,” he tilts your chin, making you look him in the eye. “how could I reject such a wonderful offer?”

“Jake, I thought you didn't—”

“Of course I wanted to fuck.” he giggles, loosening his tie. The action sends shivers all over your spine. Seeing his deft hand pull off his blazer in the process instinctively intensifies the wetness clinging to your folds and without him seeing it, you rub your thighs together as he eyes you with lust and need. “Just not somewhere I can’t have you all for myself.”

Speechless becomes an understatement as his hand makes its way along your thigh. you slightly jolt at the feeling of his palm on your cold skin. your mind has officially gone haywire. there was no point in taking back everything you have said.

“Backseat. Now.”

Without a word, you climb out of the passenger seat and slide in between the front seats, pushing yourself into the wide backseat of the vehicle. The spot had better ventilation than the dashboard, and the cold sent goosebumps all over your body. Meanwhile, Jake presses a button closing all of the heavily tinted windows, and steps out of the car with a painful hard-on.

You bunch your dress up around your hips, rubbing your clothed folds against the leather upholstery. You let out a desperate whimper, one that greets Jake as he steps in the seat beside you. He swore he felt his cock slightly twitch at the sound, masking his grunt with the sound of the car door thud.

His once slicked back hair now frames his face, and the first three buttons of his dress shirt are undone, giving you a peek of his defined chest muscles. You feast your eyes on the thickness of his neck; the angle of his jawline; his soft, beautifully plump lips; and his prominent clavicles.

“Come sit on my lap,” he says, voice dropping an octave, tapping on one spot of his thigh. “princess.”

His words intensify your need and urge to act up and go batshit crazy in his presence, but knowing how firm and serious he was with how he spoke, you couldn’t do much except to breathe unstable breaths and feel your thighs rub together as you scramble to sit on his lap. Your ass meets his muscular thighs, and you tense up at how they flex against your flesh.

“Are you sure you want me to carry on?” Jake asks, hands squeezing your clothed ass as he looks for signs of fear and agitation in your face. you give him a mischievous look—one that was too hot to resist. “I don't want you to regret any of this later.”

“I need you to carry on.” you reply, nuzzling your nose against his. you didn’t know how his lips tasted yet, or what it felt like against yours. But you knew they’d feel like heaven all along, thanks to you shushing him with your fingers the other day.

“Alright.” he smirks, yanking your dress downward to reveal your bare breasts with a slight bounce. “Now be a good girl and grind on me, yeah?”

Jake bucks his hips up, painfully slow for you to stay silent. You finally draw out a soft moan against his mouth as he mindlessly rubs his lips against yours. He then catches your lips in between his, locking them in a sloppy kiss as you rub yourself against his clothed cock. The way he moves his mouth against yours was something you never knew he could do, knowing his experience with women.

You instinctively deepen the kiss as his hands find your breasts. He rubs your already perked up nipples with rough thumbs, all while pushing you lower against his pants. A guttural whine comes out of you as your clit brushes against the smooth and damp fabric of your panties. His hands leave your breast and one of them pushes your panties aside, smothering your wetness all over your folds and clit.

“Ah, Jake, please!” you whine, unlatching your lips from his. You slightly jolt at how his fingers teasingly prod in your pussy, only to pull them out and use them to abuse your clit again. Your back arches against the driver’s seat, head meeting soft leather as he chuckles in triumph.

Who knew you were so easy to please? Jake has perceived you as someone who had opinions of an aristocrat and was very opinionated in nature. How are you like putty under his touch—pliable and weak—when you’re so rough and tough on the outside? This thought only strokes his ego more, instinctively making him push two fingers inside your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” he sighs over the sound of your whimpers, slowly moving his fingers inside you and finding your cervix.. “you’d be so ready to take my cock right here, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm, yes.” you nod vigorously as your hand grips his arms. you can clearly feel how his muscles flex against your weak fingers, turning you on more. Your moans get louder inside the cramped vehicle as he stretches you so well. “Want your cock right now, Jake, please.”

“That’s a good girl.” he groans out, scrambling on his seat as he unbuttons and pulls his slacks’ zipper down. He wants you. He wants you so fucking bad. He grips your thigh with his free hand, rubbing himself against your clit. “Using her words so well.”

He retracts his fingers from your pussy, making you whine at the loss of contact. His cock twitches against his boxers again, loving the sounds that come from your mouth. He makes you look at him, and seductively drags his tongue along his fingers, wet with your arousal. You feel yourself dripping on his clothed cock.

“You look so fucking hot right now, do you know that?” Jake says, voice sultry and sensual as his lips run down your neck. You automatically move your head aside, giving him easier access to your already sensitive skin. “All for me.”

With that, he hastily unbuttons his dress shirt, throws it to the side as the other hand pulls his boxers down, letting his cock bounce against his stomach. You gulp, almost drooling at the sight of his length and girth. I have to take all of this? You hitch a breath as Jake senses your worry, feeling a gentle hand along your spine.

“Tell me if it hurts, baby.” he says, lining his tip in front of your entrance. “Don’t want you to regret all of this.”

Too fucked out to protest, you reply to him with a whimper as he rubs his tip all around your clit. Guiding you by the hips, he slides his cock little by little, and in a split second, he’s now fully inside of you.

A loud mewl escapes from your lips as he fills you up to the hilt. He chuckles, admiring how you look on top of him—legs splayed out and head hanging back, with your dress bunched up around your lips. You definitely looked better than you did in the pictures he would form in his head. It was the way your skin felt like silk against his fingers, the soft feeling of your breasts, and the way your cunt took him in so easily. It was like a wet dream come true.

After a few minutes of letting you adjust to his size, you finally roll your lips against his, with his hands on your ass, guiding your pace. Soft sighs leave Jake’s mouth as you run your fingers along his nipples, wanting to hear how good you make him feel. You whimper in satisfaction as he bucks his hips slowly against yours, hitting your most sensitive spot with the smallest of gestures.

“Jake… mmm, fuck, you’re so big.” you blurt out as his cock continues to make you go crazy. The compliment excites him, making him snap his hips against you once. The action alone elicits a moan from you, desperately holding onto the side handrails for support as he starts to pick up his pace. “Want to feel you. Harder.”

The word flips a switch in his head, and the next thing he knows is that he’s ramming himself inside you, lips finding your nipple as he spanks your ass cheeks. The lewd sounds coming out of your mouth only turns him on more, growing more and more desperate to make you cum.

“Is this your first time, baby?” he asks, pushing and pulling your hips down as your wetness coats his cock. “Shit, you take me in so well, baby. I can do this all night.”

“I'd let you do me all night—ah!” you scream out as his finger makes harsh circles against your clit.

“Still want to go on those trashy dates, huh?” he taunts, taking this as a chance to say the words he’s been longing to say. He snaps his hips against yours again. “Oh, how I wanted to tell you how much of an asshole they are.”

You gasp as he digs his fingers in the flesh of your ass, burying his cock deeper inside you. “Jake? what do you mean?”

“If I took you out on a date,” he pecks your swollen lips. “I'd treat you like royalty because that’s what you are… shit.”

His sudden confession catches you off-guard, but you were too focused on reaching your orgasm that you almost immediately forget it. Seeing this, Jake fucks you harder, not letting your cunt breathe as his chest swells with jealousy. It should’ve been him taking you out on dates, making you happy, and making moves on you. His kiss deepens, being so drunk in the thought of you begging for him to fuck you again.

“I like you, baby.” he groans out against your lips, hands running along your hair as he stares at your completely fucked-out expression. “I fucking like you a lot.”

He repeats it again and again, like a mantra. He wanted for it to get into your head, let you know all about how he feels towards you. You start to piece everything together—from the way he would steal stares at you, the way he’d smile so innocently at you, the way he’d call you pet names you’ve never heard before. A part of you wanted Jake to stop for you to be able to slap yourself for being stupid, but there’s no turning back—he’s already fucking you like a beast.

“You’re cumming, baby?” he asks, thrusts getting more rushed as he desperately feels around your body. "Can I cum inside you?”

“Fuck, yes, cum inside me.” you reply immediately, pushing your hips down to feel more of him inside you. It just feels like his cock was meant for your little cunt and you weren’t mad about him. You wanted more of him. “On the pill, Jake.”

With a few more snaps of his hips, you finally let your orgasm hit you like a truck. He draws out a long groan, feeling the warmth of your arousal all around his cock. He follows a few seconds after, ramming deeper in you as his release coats your pussy.

Moans of satisfaction and relief leave your mouths as you ride out your highs, slowly moving your hips against each other’s. You feel lighter and less anxious, completely not giving a fuck about how badly your makeup was smudged. He was too good to ignore. Jake, on the other hand, runs a hand over your body glistening with sweat, once again admiring your body. He pulls out his flaccid cock out of you and buries his head on the valley of your breasts, letting your scent fill his nose.

“I like you, too, Jake.” you pant, leaning forward to catch his lips in a passionate kiss. It feels like a weight has been pulled off of your chest, hearing Jake’s deep chuckle ring against your chest. “I'm sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He pulls you closer by the waist, closing the gap in between your bodies as you bask in the glow of your orgasms. You share a moment of silence together in the car, in the middle of God knows where, where no people would give a fuck about what you’re doing. He’s beyond happy to finally have you all for himself, without the uncertainty of you going on another failed blind date.

“Just stay with me, yeah?” he reassures, squeezing your hand in his as he pulls you into a hug. “Let's get to know each other better, take all the time we need.”

“Ooh, sentimental.” you giggle. “I like that.”

“Shut up, Y/N.” Jake rolls his eyes, trying to hide the fact that he was getting flustered. “I just fucked your brains out.”

“Fucked me so good, right?” you smirk, pressing a series of pecks on his lips. “Let's get out of here and discuss further business at home, hmm?”

He rolls his eyes back, delighted with the idea. “Oh, yeah? Are you letting me wet your bed, Y/N?”

“If you’re willing to wet my bed and fuck me again, that is.” you whisper, getting a hold of his cock and stroking it slowly.

It’s been over a month ever since you had your first sexual encounter with Jake, and ever since he’s confessed his feelings for you. He’s been visiting your house more often, which your mother eventually finds out. However, you begged her not to tell Taehyun; that way you can tell him the status between you and Jake yourself. it has also come to your knowledge that Jake wasn’t actually a chauffeur by a profession, but also a socialite’s son who turned out to be a family friend. Turns out, it was the only way he could get closer to you with Taehyun’s help.

Now, you drive alone to a bar that Jake has invited you to, wanting to celebrate his birthday especially with you. As much as you liked the peace of being alone in the car, you were too used to having Jake with you in it, which makes your trip more boring.

Meanwhile, Jake has already had a few drinks with friends, not getting himself too tipsy as he still wants to spend some alone time with you. He sits patiently on a bar stool, mindlessly staring at the array of drinks laid out in a vintage shelf behind where the bartender stands. Yes, he misses you and is already getting impatient. In other words, he’s in love.

“Jake!”

He turns his head to the telltale sound of his name being called, immediately spotting you in the crowd of people. He smirks at your outfit choice—leather dress, leather shoes, leather everything. He can see himself ripping it off of you tonight.

You jog towards him, tackling him in a back hug and playfully sniffing his neck. He pats the seat next to him, motioning you to take the space beside him.

He smiles at you, taking a small sip from his blue curaçao as you order yourself a drink. He doesn’t know why—he’s seen the beauty of your face for so many times now, yet the sight of you always takes his breath away. You were like an angel on earth; too beautiful to exist.

“Happy birthday, my boyfriend.”

Jake chokes on his drink at the mention of the word “boyfriend”. You chortle, offering him a glass of water to stop his coughing. as much as he’s not a fan of surprises, catching him off-guard somehow pleases you.

“I could’ve died, baby.” he jokes, playfully slapping your thigh. “Fuck, I love you, too.”

“So how do you feel now that you’re my boyfriend now, birthday boy?” you ask, squeezing his leather-clad shoulders.

“Definitely better,” he snickers, bending down to kiss your lips. “But I’m kinda scared of your brother finding this out, ya know.”

You chortle, shaking your head as you peck him back. “He can go fuck himself. Besides, I think he’s getting it on with a white girl in LA.”

“Good for him,” he shrugs. “He better not tear you away from me, Kang. You’re mine now.”

“I gotta tell you something, though.” you reply, downing a shot of your drink. “something really important.”

“I'm all ears.” he nods, leaning towards you to close the awkward space.

You lean closer as well, gently nibbling his ear before you whisper in it. “Open up your present and fuck me in the backseat.”

With that, he sweeps you off of his feet and carries you to the parking lot, just like how his five-year old self was excited to unwrap Christmas gifts. You share another moment with him in the same car he’s fucked you in for the first time, memories of you and him in his backseat making their way back to your head.

Had he not confessed, your car rides would’ve still been sad and bland.

a/n: i noticed that this was the most sought after among all my fics so i know i had to find and edit this! i can't leave y'all deprived while my ass is stuck writing the aegi series, can i? 👀 anyway, this was a birthday fic for him that i wrote in the middle of a migraine (it went through lots of editions this time heh)

NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @clelevanters @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs-archived @puphee @hee-pster @forjongseong @jaeyunsz @muffinminnie @shu-ramyeonz @poutyjaeyun @fairy-junseong @duolingofanaccount @polalvsjy @taetaemylovie @en-archv @yizhoutv @aerinaga @xwonniex @lavhikaru @simplewonderland @exactlygreatcoffee @liliansun (send an ask or a dm to be added!)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #enhypen drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #enhypen jake smut #jake smut #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake sim #enhypen fluff #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen hard hours #Spotify

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sasayego · 5 months

Note

Hello! Not to sure if you’re still doing batfam match-ups, but if I could get one that’d be great, please and thanks!

I’m around 5’2, female and a filipino, so we’re tiny, we’re tan, and we’re pretty loud 💀

I’m a very… Mischievous I guess? I have cute aggression, I like to prank, joke around, jostle with others, very touchy.. childish at sometimes too! But yk I can be serious when needs be.

lately, I really enjoy crafting things! (Legos, those book nook things, keychains and earrings, yada-yada) Other hobbies I have are cooking, reading, drawing, playing video games and idk if it’s considered a hobby, but I really enjoy cleaning!

as I mentioned earlier, even though I try for an inside voice, I’m just naturally loud as is. From my laugh to my everyday voice in general, you’ll know I’m around 💀 (but in contrast the sound of my footsteps are non-existent to this planet)

something I’m lowkey insecure abt is the rashes I have on my skin. I have hyper-sensitive skin, so you could very well trace your name on with your nail or a pencil and it’ll appear all swollen red on me for the next 30 minutes. (Fun and not fun)

being Filipino but growing up elsewhere, I tend to forget not everyone speaks my dialect so I’ll have a full-blown sentence in Filipino and the listener will go “what 😐” or “good lord she’s at it again-“

additionally! I really like Filipino terms of endearment! Sinta (which is close to darling), Palangga (my love) and all that. Same goes for cussing-

was this too much? I hope it wasn’t too much- thank you for this!!! I was literally so happy to see a batfam match-up hehe. Hope you’re staying safe and have a nice day! ♡

DAMIAN WAYNE

he will hate you at first, make no doubt about that. "grayson, why is she so annoying?" and it's just dick smirking at him and knowing that those feelings are eventually going to translate into something else but he's a good older brother and won't say anything

i'm pretty sure damian would speak filipino so when you're bursting out into filipino, he'd amusingly understand what you're saying and probably communicate back

lots of shittalking in filipino. that's the vibes i'm getting

CLEANING?? bro you got yourself a damian wayne at your feet. my guy would love everything spick and span and the fact that he has a partner that enjoys making things clean..mm... he's a lil in love yknow?

he doesn't like touching and he doesn't like loud things, but he finds it endearing from you. he finds himself being spoiled by your touches and would appreciate every single brush of hand or even just holding hands together as you read or play video games or whatever you wanna do

he cleans with you together. it's a little mini date and nobody else can understand it but he just does

you're hanging around with the big doggos and just reading or he's working or doing literally anything you want to do that day. he just wants to spend quality time with you

one of his ideas before he realized that he went heart eyes at you was to take you on patrol and just make the villains hear you yap and then that's how they would surrender

and then about your skin ... damian would not realize at first and then as soon as he did, he'd respect your space. sometimes he'd accidentally do something to your skin (his nail digging in or when he grips your arm too hard) and it'll swell, but usually, he's in control of his body and won't do anything

#damian wayne #dcu

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oh-katsuki · 3 years

Text

Jealousy (Connie x Reader)

phases of love collab | masterlist

Pairing: Connie x Reader

Summary: You take Sasha’s place.

Content Warnings: Implied aot ending spoilers, smut, angst, character death (reader), some fluff, romantic sex, slight cockwarming, drugs / alcohol

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This hurt me to write so I hope it hurts to read. Thank you so much to @dande-lion and @eremiie who beta-read this and gave me so many suggestions because I didn’t like the way I worded it. I would not have been able to be happy with this without you, ILYSM

For @mikaberries collab! Thanks for letting me participate!

Connie’d never loved like this before. He can’t recall a single time in his life that he’s felt so truly connected to someone, so deeply ingrained in someone else’s being that he doesn’t know who he’d be without them.

Connie had you wrapped in his body, dick buried in you so deep and legs intertwined so gently. His delicate fingers sunk into your skin as one wrapped around your waist, the other around your head. There was nothing rough about tonight, nothing exemplary or particularly outstanding except for the fact that he was hopelessly in love with you.

Connie was infatuated with you. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel enough of your skin against his as he fucked himself up into you with steady flicks of his hips. You felt so good around him, hips grinding to meet his with gentle moans. He wishes he could have this moment forever, wrap it up and keep it in his pocket so he can feel it whenever he needs to. The way your gummy walls hugged him or how you breathed in low and deep sighs with each of his thrusts.

“So beautiful…” He exhaled against your skin, pulling back to take the hand from your head and run his thumb along the plump skin of your cheek.

You gave him a lazy smile, eyebrows furrowed together in focus and pleasure as he leaned in to kiss you. It was delicate at first, pumping into you slowly, keeping up his sluggish pace. Connie was taking you in, appreciating the feel of your lips on his and the way you tasted like sweat and sex and something akin to cinnamon.

Connie wasn’t working towards a goal, arm wrapped lazily around your body, sticky with sweat while he admired your feel.That was the best way to put it— he was simply letting you both admire each other’s feeling, whispering sweet nothings, he just wanted to love you. So he fucked into you languidly, mind clouded over and head spinning.

He could remember clearly every moment like this he’d had with you and he was about to lock away this one with the first time he saw you, your first kiss, your first time. He doesn’t know why this moment in particular strikes him so deeply, but the way you look and your cunt fluttering around him has his heart swelling with love and pride.

You’re his.

There was nothing to be discontent with, no doubt seeded in his heart about another man, no jealousy bubbling in his gut. You were only his and he knew it, he could feel it in the desperate little sighs of his name as you came closer to your high, heat building in your stomach as the candle beside the bed dimmed as it burned through its wick.

The two of you had been like this for hours, Connie unwilling to let you go until he’d felt you come undone around him so much that he’s all you think about— you’re all he thinks about. He was already all you thought about though, already taking up the most space in your mind even when you weren’t creaming around him. Still, you couldn’t complain, so wrapped in his smell and feel that you let him keep rutting his hips into you, arms looped around his body and fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

But it’s true, Connie’s love for you was incredible and you felt it with every stroke of his big hand against you, in the way your skin buzzed as if it were whispering its own sweet words between his. Words of praise whispered over the pillow, lips brushing past each other’s ear to mumble quiet “I love you’s” that rattle through each other's bodies like coins down a well.

When you finally came undone in a steady rise, like water bubbling delicately over the edge of a too-full container, you whimpered, teeth sinking into the muscle of his shoulder. Your legs trembled as he held you tightly, slowing his movements and letting you bury your face into him, looking for anything to ground you as your body rolled.

Connie loved your voice, the whine of his name that spilled from your lips and the way your cunt clenched around him, pillowy and soft. He loved you and with that profound knowledge, soon met his own high with a stutter of his hips, cumming deep into you as he buried himself to the hilt.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other, Connie unmoving within you as you panted against each other before your breathing fell into an even rhythm. How was he supposed to let you go? How could he be expected to pull out and let you pad to the toilet. It would only be a few minutes but he found himself dreading the moment you stirred in his arms. He’d let you meld yourself to him like this if it were possible.

“You know that I’ve got to get up.” You chuckled into his chest, turning your head to glance to the nightstand. “And I’d like to get up before that candle burns through and I have to stumble through the dark.”

It was growing dim, nearing the end of its life span as it casted a low light across the bedroom. Connie’s desk was faintly illuminated in the corner but you were focused on the way the light danced over his features, displaying the apples of his cheeks that rounded with his smile.

“I know,” he sighed, pulling you closer, “just don’t wanna let you go right now.”

“You big baby, it’s only a few minutes.” You say, peeling yourself from him and pulling him out of you gently.

He was soft already, but the act itself was intimate and you could feel the way he started to spill out of you as you moved to the other side of the room, wrapping a robe around yourself before leaving the bedroom.

Connie watched you as you left, admiring your hips and your figure as you receded into the darkness. How had he gotten so lucky? He somehow managed to snag the girl the entire regiment was crazy for, and– as you both moved through the ranks– managed to fall so irrevocably in love with you that he’s forgotten who he was without you.

Still, he wouldn’t trade it for the world, wouldn’t trade you for the world.

He was deep in thought by the time you returned to bed, discarding the robe and snuggling up beside his naked figure.

Of all the things that had changed recently, you hadn’t. You remained the woman he loved more than anything, still smiling. He remembers the way you’d joke with your friends and squad, evenings spent laughing at a pub with all of the captains after your promotion.

Every major event of his life had been spent with you and you both had made it out clean, more appreciative of the love you shared. Connie cherished every part of you, every fleeting moment with you.

And he was certain that he’d do it for the rest of his life.

---

They’d suspected that Eren had gone awol. That he’d gone off on his own. Connie should have stopped him, they could have talked some sense into him before he fled to Marley, attacking a congregation of world leaders and forcing the Scout Regiments hand.

You both had separated so quickly, each moving away from each other in your own individual squadrons without so much as a stay safe. You both always did. Connie couldn’t have imagined that you’d be one of the six who didn’t make it home.

He couldn’t have guessed that the child would sneak aboard the ship and point the rifle toward Sasha’s chest. But Connie could have predicted the way you jumped in front of her, moving before you had time to think to shield his best friend from the shot.

Connie would never forget the look in your eyes as your blood seeped and pooled onto the cold floor of the airship, his warm hands pressed to your cooling chest, covered in a thick layer of your blood. You looked content, the same look you’d flash at him before any expedition. You were at peace and you smiled up at him. A far too pleased smile for someone who was slipping from Connie’s hands faster than he could process— faster than he wanted you to. How could you be smiling? He was losing you.

It was like you to take a shot for a friend. You always put your comrades before yourself like that.

You and Sasha were both brave that way, the only difference being that today, Sasha would return home to her lover and you would not. Your body would stay in the morgue for the night before they placed you six feet below the ground in a graveyard not far from where you lived.

How is it that you could be so close so far away at the same time? He’d never get to feel your body against his again, never hear your laugh that rings like chimes on a spring day, and looking at your grave after the funeral procession, he could only think about how quickly your blood had cooled on the floor of the airship. Connie stared at the fresh dirt under the headstone, trying to bring anything but your lifeless eyes to mind. He tried to think of your smile, of the crinkle in your eye whenever he’d say something stupid, but instead he was reminded of the uncharacteristically stiff way your body laid in the airship and the wan tone of your skin as your precious years drained from your face.

---

As time passed jealousy bled into Connie’s life. Slowly at first, in the waning hours of the morning when he’d be awake and full of drink. He found himself thinking about you constantly, your picture flashing through his mind with startling clarity.

He’d wake up in the middle of the night, grabbing at the sheets beside him– searching for you, wondering in his half asleep state where you’d gone, only to be reminded that this time you weren’t coming back to bed. You’d no longer take your trips to the bathroom and you were much farther away than a few minutes. Instead, he was reminded that he’d have to spend a lifetime without you.

A lifetime without your presence. How unfathomable. So he buried himself in drink, in alcohol, in fighting a war he no longer had a reason to fight. It was bearable that way, his days without you. He was occupied. Working until his hands shook and his feet ached, then drinking to quell the pain. It was all he knew in those following days, working for a peace you’d never know, drinking to forget your time together, sleeping in hopes that he’d see you in another world. But the next world wasn’t for him. Life mercilessly kept him alive, despite his carelessness in the fight.

When the war finally ended and things came to a quiet halt, everything became harder. Eldia rebuilt its streets, patching up the wounds that battle had left on it, and with the power of the titans gone, Eldians were negotiating their terms of peace and fighting the good fight to total freedom. Connie found it difficult now to focus on anything but your absence.

He’d move down the cobbled streets of Marley and be reminded of you at every turn, reminded of something you’d never get to see. He thought of your plans for the future and the way you’d agreed to marry him once peace finally came, but peace came and went without you.

The summer months in Marley were the most beautiful. They brought couples and children and laughter. You’d have loved them. In between peace negotiations, Connie would let himself wander through the streets. Why he even bothered to go outside? He had no clue, but he still did it everyday without fail, wandering until he ended up in the same place he always did. He’d find a seat in the park and watch the couples, listening to the way the ocean sounded as it beat against the shore.

It was supposed to make him feel better, supposed to remind him that things were okay now. But all he felt was unimaginable rage. A rage that grew brighter with each gust of wind and each rustle of leaves. Each happy chuckle of passing couples and each aimless laughter of stumbling children. Connie was jealous, perpetually and undeniably.

He was jealous of the time the two of you never got. Jealous of the people who would spend their lifetimes with their lovers and get to cradle their children. Jealous of his own time, the years he had left ticking by slowly and twisting the knife in his gut with each turn of the month on a calendar. He was jealous of Marco who was no doubt with you now, jealous of Erwin and Miche and anyone they’d ever lost because they were with you.

Why did everyone else get so much time? What made them so different from you? Connie couldn’t understand a world where someone else deserved to survive to see the end when you didn’t, where people other than the two of you got enough time to live out their lives.

Connie didn’t have that luxury and you surely didn’t either.

The weight piled on, the greed, disgust, and envy weighed on his shoulders like boulders. A person can only take so much, can only struggle for so long under such a profound feeling.

It was the day the negotiations were finished, the day the war came to a true end and Eldians were no longer discriminated against legally, that he broke.

He fell to his knees in his temporary apartment after getting home and seeing the bare walls, the ones that lacked pictures because he’d never gotten to take any of you. You would have loved today, would have pulled him into the living room to dance or even invited all of your remaining friends to your shared apartment to celebrate. Connie could practically hear you telling him to appreciate the day, your voice chiming like bells in the recesses of his mind. It was haunting.

“Fuck!” He shouted, slamming his fist onto the counter and collapsing to the floor as sobs wracked through his body.

His friends had followed him to his apartment, worried for him. They had been for a while and today was the breaking point, watching him sway down the steps of the courthouse without so much as a word. They could hear him crying through the walls, hear the guttural cries that seemed to push through him so angrily.

Connie’s stomach was twisting in painful knots, it was years of being tired, years of missing you crumbling all at once in a crescendo of anger and unimaginable grief. He was sick, his heart wrenched in his chest, hammering against his ribcage, something your heart could no longer do.

It was sickening, how his bones wracked and how his shoulder shook with every shuddering sob. His own walls were finally let down and his veiled emotions crashed over him appallingly fast. How did he carry around this weight, this grief, for so long?

Connie couldn’t pick his head up from his hands when his friends came in, ushering themselves past the entrance to crouch on the floor with him, Jean’s arm bracing his frame and helping to keep him upright. They let him cry like that for a long while, letting the sounds echo through an apartment that should have had you in it.

They all missed you, but they had already done their mourning. In doing so, they’d left Connie behind to fend for himself. Left him alone like you had.

“She’s watching from somewhere, Connie.” Jean’s voice piped up, low and reassuring.

“Y’know-” Connie choked out, sniffling. “Everyone talks so much about this a-afterlife.”

Another sob wracks through him.

“About his place where the dead go once they’ve finished their time here.” He was shouting now, voice rising.

“I just wish that maybe there was some fucking proof that she’s still there.” His fists balled up against the floor. This time Connie doesn’t try to stop the cries to talk, he pauses to let himself sob before speaking again. “Because right now I can’t find a single reason to believe she’s out there and I don’t know what I’d do if I never got to see her again.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to move on? How do I carry this weight? How can I keep taking steps forward when she’s not at the end?” Connie’s eyes snap up to Jean, his hand coming to grab his wrist.

His eyes were pleading, crying for an answer, something, somebody to tell him that there was something to look forward to. That you would be at the end of this stupid game called life. His voice came up from the deepest recesses of his body. Eyebrows pulled up in anguish, eyes glassy with tears that refused to let up as he peered into his best friend’s eyes. Connie knew he couldn’t answer, knew that there was no one secret to getting through this, that he’d have to power through on his own. But he was so angry, so exhausted from fighting.

“Why did it have to be her!” He gasps, eyes going wide as realization courses through his shaking body. “Why didn’t she get more time, why didn’t she get to fucking see today?! Why was it me? _____ would have known what to say today, would have had the perfect words. I’ve never had them, never had anything to say.”

Connie inhaled deeply, blinking until limpid tears decorated the fabric of his uniform. “I need her here. I need her.”

That was the last thing he said that night, letting himself cry on the floor in the company of his friends who tried in vain to calm him. He raged against fate, body heaving in tremendous sobs that left his chest feeling emptier than before, inhaling in great pulls because with each cry he could feel the water flooding his lungs. Invading, violating, and wretched with every wail. Everything served as a reminder for his jealousy, ugly and painful in its existence.

Connie knows you’d have hated this.

Could you see him right now? Were you watching in the months to come as he hit his lowest low before slowly starting to pick himself back up, finally formally forgiving Gabi even though he hadn’t blamed her for a long while.

It took a long time for him to gain that semblance of normalcy and once he returned to Eldia from overseas, he went straight to your grave, finally able to face your name scrawled on the headstone once again. Connie hadn’t expected it, but with time the jealousy faded into a dull ache. He spent hours in the graveyard that day, staying with you until the sun had long set over the horizon and the air nipped at his skin. Connie would take any time he could have with you, even if it was like this. And as he sat there talking about the newfound peace, he hoped you could hear him.

He was filled with regrets about you. He wishes he had made you laugh more or studied the way you threw your head back in a smile because after so many years the memory had faded to little more than a silhouette. Connie wished he had taken pictures of you, kissed you on the day he met you, married you. But he couldn’t.

Connie wondered if you were watching him all the time. Did you watch his healing, the way he picked himself back up after being shattered and broken for so long. Maybe he’d glued part of you to him when he patched himself up, maybe he still gets to carry some of you with him in the corner of his heart he knows is reserved for you.

Did you see the day he met her? The woman he’d marry one day. She’d caught his eye because she reminded him so much of you, especially in her smile. Connie couldn’t help but think you’d had something to do with it, some cosmic influence that led her to him.

He thought of you on his wedding day as his bride moved down the aisle, radiant in her beauty. Connie loved her the way he loved you, deeply and honestly. He thought of you the day his first child was born and on every day after that because he saw you in every part of his little girl. He saw you in the way she laughed and the way she ate, the way she stood up after scraping her knee to keep running.

Connie told his wife about you, about the love he lost, and his daughter thought of you as family, despite never meeting you. Your name fell from his family’s lips so often that it was like you’d never left this world in the first place.

He healed, Finally, time began moving again and that sickening envy slipped from his veins like melting ice. He was no longer jealous.

He still goes to your grave, every Sunday. He brings his family and sits his daughter on his lap to tell stories about you, about every aspect of you. Partly because he wants her to know, but also so that he can remember. It’s like a prayer, uttering your name as they sit in the grass that had long grown over the dirt with such reverence, such adoration.

The wind moves through the trees, shaking leaves from their late summer bloom and Connie swears he can hear you laughing, deep and rich and so like you.

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deleteddewewted · 3 years

Text

Virgin! Shinsou Oneshot: First Blowjob

Shinsou x F!Reader

Minors DNI

(Apparently I’m just making Shinsou my main thing now. Im planning on expanding into other characters I promise!) But for now:

You and Shinsou are just friends. You both watch movies together on Fridays, you go out to eat every other week, babysit Eri when Aizawa is off at work. You're pretty much the perfect duo.

One day Shinsou finds out you’ve been fucking Bakugo (You offered to fuck Bakugo once and he asked to try pegging thinking that this was a one time thing. He could live knowing that he asked you to do this for him since you’ve always been so chill and private. Let’s say that Bakugos “one time” became multiple. He loved getting fucked by you.) Shinsou didn’t care that you were with other people, he isn’t your boyfriend (yet) so he can’t demand anything from you. That doesn’t mean his curiosity isn’t peaked.

When you two where walking to your next class for the day, Shinsou leans a bit closer to you and whispers, “Hey, so you know how I don’t really have all that much... experience, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I wanted to ask what a blowjob was.” You didn’t know if he was joking or not. He was great at keeping his face neutral but his skin complexion always betrayed him. He was incredibly red when you took your time to answer.

“Oh, and would you like to figure it out now or later?” Confused Shinsou shrugs his shoulder not understanding your question.

“Now? I did ask you right now and hearing it later would be a bit strange. It would also be a waste of time.”

“Alright, come with me.” You immediately drag him to an empty janitors closet (how do you know this, he’ll have to ask you.)

With that you shove him inside and in the cramped space push him to lean back on the closet wall the door closing once you two for inside.

"What?-"

"Shhhh shhhh, im showing you what a blowjob is. Do you want to continue?" Shinsou's whole face is red, you worried if he was going to pass out.

"yes...please." That was all you needed to get down on your knees and start to unbuckle his pants. Gasping and shaking a little, Shinsou was so nervous. This was his first blowjob and it was coming from you, his best friend. He couldn't wait.

You finally got his dick out of his pants and wow, he's hung. Heavy and full, you jumped on to the chance to suck it. Shinsou bucks his hips a bit, pre cum coming out in small drops hitting your tongue.

“Aaaah- uh...” Poor boy, he’s gasping just by being inside your mouth. That adorable flushed out face was too much, you want to make him cum his brains out.

The noise of students walking to their next class slowly fade as you suck and lavish his cock. Shinsou tries to stop his moaning with his hands but it doesn’t work, it’s too good. So good in fact that he starts fucking your face without knowing it.

“God, please~ah...ooooh more~! More, please make me cum, please~!” You grip his hips to make him stop, he whines at the lost friction. You pop off his cock to look up and smirk as you stroke him.

“You want to cum, baby~? How badly, hmm?”

“A lot, please, please, ple-please. I want your mouth back on me. Please make me cum!” Shinsou looks like he’s about to cry. His eyes are all glazed over with a trembling lip out of pure bliss. He was so pretty like this. So why not tease him a little.

You grab his hard cock and slap it lightly against your cheek, sticking out your tongue so he can feel the warm wet muscle graze his throbbing head.

“I’m not sure, it doesn’t look like you want it. Maybe we should stop and try another day?” That got a reaction out of him. He quickly tries to straighten up but his legs wobble out beneath him.

"NOOoo~! Y/n please don't be mean, please make me cum!" Shinsou's needy and panicked voice sends a sadistic shiver up you're spine. You've lost your patience, you need to see him cry his pretty head over how good your mouth feels.

You furiously start to suck, having his dick hit the back of your throat over and over again (Damn bitch, you deepthroating him and taking it like a champ.) Shinsou again starts to fuck your face and this time he won't and couldn't stop. His sweet noises giving you motivation to keep going. Out of curiosity you start running your fingers under his balls and to his ass.

"what?~" He doesn't hate the feeling of your hand and fingers touching him there, he kind of wants more but he doesn't know what more would be. You see the way his legs shakes and chest rattled, so when you see him take this eyes off of you for a moment, you strike. You pushed your fingers inside of him and slowly start fingering him.

Shinsou's eyes crossed and he tries, he truly does try, to uncross them but he cant. It's to good, your warm mouth and tongue taking his dick in while your fingers hit just the right spot inside of him. He thinks he's fallen even more in love with you. You finally bring up the pace and he can't take it. He cum's hard in your mouth and all you can do is swallow the salty liquid that was practically forced down your throat. You continue to finger him and suck him till he's empty. Once he's done and now getting closer to overstimulating him, you come off of him with a light pop and a quick lick to his tip that sends his legs buckling under him. You slowly pull out your fingers out of his ass and kiss his length as you smile up at him.

"You good, baby?" His eyes are still crossed but this time with tear tracks coming down his face with saliva coming out of his mouth. He's completely out of it, all because of a 5 minute blowjob you gave him....in a janitors closet.

He doesn't verbally replied but he did nod as you tucked him back inside his boxer and pants. You get up from your place on the floor and place your hand on the side of his face, cupping his face. Shinsou leans into the soft touch and purrs. He fucking purrs! He's so cute, you swear that he has to be part cat. He's so deep in his own mind that he doesn't realize he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you flushed against his chest. He breaths in your scent and hums happily. God you're perfect to him. He wants more sexually but he also wants to just to do this, hold you in his arms and forget about the rest of the world.

"We should get out this cramped space. It's not good for your back to be arched like that for to long." Shinsou doesn't answer to your concern but he straightens up and kisses the top of your head.

After a few minutes Shinsou finally regains some function when it comes to his speech and he tells you that he felt amazing.

"Thank you, that was...great. Thanks for showing me."

"You're welcome! Do you want to go to class?"

"Nah, lets go back to your place, i feel tired." You both check each other for... you know...stains. You grab your things, and head out of the closet. To think that he got a blowjob from genuinely not knowing what a blowjob was. He was such a lucky motherfucker.

"Hey, Shinsou. You good?"

"Yeah, im great y/n." Shinsou will never tell you this but he's been dreaming for the past few days about that little adventure in the janitors closet. He's actually jerked off to the memory more than once (10 times in the span of a day. He was painfully turned on, but can you judge him?)

"Your face is getting red."

"Oh, yeah. Im just... thinking about something that happened in high school."

"Cool man!"

"Yeeeaah." He's so fucked. He absolutely wants more with you.

Literally had a dream about this exact scenario but it was in an apartment where he was up against a wall while getting a blowjob, not in a closet.

#bnha #mha #mha shinsou #shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #dom reader #sub character #sub shinsou #sub shinso

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interstellarflowers · 3 years

Text

Professor Parker Ch. 1| Professor, Peter Parker x Student, Reader

a/n this fic doesn’t follow the marvel cinematic universe but assume that peter has been what he’s been through with the exception that tony lived, and bruce is still bruce, sorry but i just can't deal with endgame hulk/bruce rn emotionally or mentally. im sorry nat is still dead but dw i'll actually treat it with respect unlike endgame like goddamn where was her funeral, am i right? the stages of grief thing they did was interesting though. im sorry i digress, this is set in nyc (because heyo im a new yorka) and the avengers/stark tower is still a thing, peter is fucking traumatized and has turned kind of cold as a result. this fic may contain a smut chapter in the future? not sure yet, where this fic goes depends on the feedback, thanks for reading also sorry im not the proudest of this first chapter so ill probably edit it but promise itll only improve from here just not in the best mental state rn

University life wasn’t exactly everything that you imagined it to be. There was hardly time to do anything that people claimed was good about coming to university. The parties, the epic heartbreaks, and romances, they were just nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was nothing particularly extravagant about your experience thus far. You went to class, studied, and went to your internship. Your internship was probably the most exciting thing about your life at the moment, you were lucky to be accepted into the Stark Industries student internship, the company paid college tuition and only required around twenty hours of lab work a week, you couldn’t complain. Of course, the exciting part of the whole ordeal was the name attached to it, “Stark,” not that you had ever met him, but it was nice to have a unique feature like that in such an impressive student body.

So here you were on the first day of your third year of university. You lived off-campus, about a five-minute walk from the Stark Tower, but a twenty-minute subway ride to your campus. However, having an 882 square foot space to yourself was really nothing you could truly complain about despite the distance. The studio apartment being yet another benefit reaped from Stark Industries. Thank you Tony Stark, the unseen benevolent God in your life.

Typically you would start your mornings off quietly and in no rush, a shower, a cup of coffee, maybe some studying before heading off to your campus, but your phone had other plans for you today. Instead of your alarm going off like it was supposed to, you were woken up by the sound of a particularly loud car horn, and oh how grateful you were for that. As soon as you were jolted awake you shifted to grab your phone and turned it over to see an alarming 8:40am glaring back at you.

Holy shit. You were late.

You scrambled out of bed nearly face planting several times in your hurry to get dressed and only barely ran out the door with everything you needed at 8:47am.

By the time you managed to get to the subway and clamor onto the right train it was already 8:55am. Out of breath and panicking, you considered your options. You could explain after class, you could shoot an email, there were a plethora of things you could do but none of them seemed to justify being late as a third-year to a level 500 class. You had googled all of your professors while registering for classes as was common practice. You couldn’t find a RateMyProfessor on Professor...Parker? You were pretty sure it was Professor Parker, but you do remember seeing on the STEM department page that he was currently a Ph.D. student, so you could only hope that as a fellow student he would be at least a little understanding towards your lateness.

You stood outside of the lecture hall huffing and trying to catch your breath at 9:32am, psyching yourself up, you pushed open the door to the class and attempted to go unnoticed. The class was in a lecture hall despite being only composed of around thirty students, so if you were lucky maybe nobody would even see-

“Ms.(y/l/n), I presume?.” Shit.

“Professor Parker?” Shit.

“You are aware that class starts at 9am, and not 9:30am, would this be correct Ms.(y/l/n)?”

“Yes, Professor, it’s just that I had an emergency.” The lying route. Not exactly the highlight of your academic career.

“I regret to inform you that I only take valid excuses Ms.(y/l/n), please take a seat, and next time, don’t bother disrupting class halfway through the lesson.” Fuck. You mustered a quiet “ok,” and a small nod before escorting yourself to the back of the room, thirty-something eyes following you until you sat down.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the class, it was just too embarrassing, time moved forward but you couldn’t help but be stuck on what had just happened. For the first ten minutes after sitting down you felt like dropping out of the whole class out of sheer fucking humiliation. This was of course before you reminded yourself that this class was a requirement to graduate in your field of study. You quietly bargained with yourself before sighing quietly and settling on the conclusion that Professor Parker was just a dick. A dick who certainly didn’t deserve the satisfaction of you switching out of his class. If he wanted to be like that, you decided, you would simply return the favor.

“I know, Ms.(y/ln), why don’t you tell us DeBroglie’s equation?”

“With pleasure, Professor Parker.” Yeah, you’d return the favor alright.

“Ms.(y/l/n), you stay.” Fuck that. You looked the other way and feigned ignorance as you kept making your way towards the door. About to leave, the door shut on your face.

“What the fuck!” You jumped before turning around and you felt your face heat up.

“Ms.(y/l/n), please refrain from using profanities in my classroom.”

“I’m sorry Professor Parker. I was just startled.”

“Mhm,” he took his glasses off and laid them on his desk, “Just don’t do it in the future Ms.(y/l/n).”

“Of course. My name is (y/n), by the way, Professor Parker, you can just call me that, actually, I prefer that people refer to me by (y/n).”

“Rest assured, I’m aware of your name, Ms.(y/l/n). My name is Peter, but you can continue to call me Professor Parker.” You could have sworn that you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knew what he was fucking doing, asshole. You held back from rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Of course, Professor Parker.”

“As you know, Ms.(y/l/n), I did request that you stay after class.”

“Oh? I sincerely apologize Professor Parker, I really didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sure, Ms.(y/l/n).” Fucking. Dick.

“Well, what exactly did you want Professor Parker? I do have another class soon.” Professor Parker narrowed his eyes at you in obvious distaste before reaching behind himself into a bin underneath his desk and pulling out a stack of papers,

“These are the handouts you missed from the beginning of the class. Textbook requirements, syllabus...Crucial information to have if you care to succeed in my class Ms.(y/l/n).” So coldly, so maliciously, Professor Parker placed the stack into your arms.

“I take my work very seriously, Ms.(y/l/n), I do my part as your professor so I only have the simple request that my students do the same.” You nodded feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course, Professor Parker, it won’t happen again,” you said with a tightlipped smile.

“Mhm,” Professor Parker turned around and began shuffling around some paper and without giving you a second glance said, “You are dismissed.” You nodded and hurriedly made your way out of his classroom. Of course, you had lied. You didn’t have another class until late in the afternoon. So you called your coworker instead,

“Hey, Harvey.”

“(y/n).”

“Wow, okay, don’t get too excited.”

“Sorry, just woke up.”

“Tsk, the early bird gets the worm, Harvey.”

“I don’t want a worm.”

“Fuck you. I’m headed to the lab, can I expect you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You had been working with Harvey for around four years now, he was quite the impressive specimen, having attended MIT and graduating Summa Cum Laude at age 20 was no easy feat, he was closer to Tony Stark than you would ever get, he was quite personable, and you couldn’t deny that he was quite good looking. You’d never tell him that though, he didn’t need another ego boost. Besides, you had some connections of your own.

“Hey, (y/n).”

“Banner!”

“Can we expect Harvey today?”

“Honestly, not sure.” You both knowingly smiled at each other before you made your way over to what he was working on,

“Do you ever get bored here?”

“With you and the other idiot always running around? How could I?” You laughed,

“No, seriously, like wouldn’t you rather be doing nerd shit with Tony or something? Isn’t it a little tiresome babysitting us?”

“Tiring? Maybe sometimes, but not nearly as tiring as doing ‘nerd shit’ with Tony. He’s exhausting,” Bruce smiled at his own joke, “I don’t mind playing babysitter at all kid.” He fiddled with the handle of a mug that read, “Don’t be so Na Cl,” which you had gotten him a year back as a joke, but he still used it.

You really loved Bruce for all he was. Since losing your family back in 2012 during the battle in NYC, you didn’t really have any familial figures. But since landing this internship you found yourself with a parental figure again, and you would never be able to put into words how much it meant to you, so you didn’t. Besides, you didn’t want him to feel pressured about it, especially after everything he had been through himself. Frying half your body and losing the love of your life in such a short span of time was really nothing less than horrifying. Yet, here he was, smiling, laughing...You loved him for it.

“First day of junior year? How was that?”

“Shit.”

“Huh?” Bruce stopped tinkering with the device in his hands and looked over at you, “I’ve never heard of a course being too hard for (y/n) (y/l/n), what is it? Aerospace? Quantum?”

“No, just one giant dick.”

“Pardon-”

“My professor, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Ah, I see. If he’s really harassing you (y/n), I don’t mean to overstep, I really think we should alert administration, what’s his name?” Bruce took a sip of his coffee.

“Professor Parker,” Bruce choked on his coffee, “Oh my God, Bruce, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” he said, still coughing, “Just a little too strong.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce caught his breath, “What did he do kid?”

“He’s just a dick that’s all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to do something about it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I don’t know what you could do anyways. Thank you though.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised.”

Sitting at your desk stressing over school work at 3am, it was nothing out of the ordinary for you. Everything appeared ordinary. The ordinary cup of tea, the familiar glow of your computer, and a morning chill creeping through your window. It was all so breathtakingly normal until there was a rap on your window. You took an earbud out of your ear, certain you were just hearing things, you looked to your window. Holy shit.

You opened your window wide so that he could crawl in.

“(y/n)?”

“Mr.Spiderman.” Still too in shock to fully process the situation you started to take in the scene in front of you,

“Please, it’s just Spiderman.”

“Oh-Oh my God, what happened?” Head to toe the suit seemed to have blood seeping through, tears in the body of the suit revealed gashes and a bullet wound.

“Bad guys. I know this guy-said he knew a medical student close by, you are (y/n)? Right?”

“Y-Yeah, but I’m really just a student, I’m not really a prof-”

“This guy, he said you might as well be.”

“I don’t know Mr.Spiderman, really, maybe I could take you to the hospital though.”

“-Spiderman, it’s just Spiderman, listen, (y/n), you know I can’t go to a hospital, it would ruin this whole secret identity thing I got going on here, and this guy, he’s probably the smartest guy I know, so if he says you can handle it, you can.” You swallowed and nodded,

“Yeah-” you wring your hands together, “Yeah-Sorry, let me go get my first aid kit.”

#tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bruce banner #tony stark #iron man #idk #sorry #ill prolly rewrite this seven times

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tiptapricot · 3 years

Text

I’ve been having a lot of Evil Robo BnT thoughts recently, so here’s a bunch of them! This ended up pretty long just as a forwarning djjdjd

Post DeNomolos, Evil BnT are forced to do a lot of self exploration and discovery

They’re two robots from the far future, stuck in the past with each other and the two humongously important historical figures they were not only sent back to kill, but also physically made to look and sound exactly like, with no way back to their own time and no further reason to carry out the mission they were created for

It’s a lot to adjust to

(Three uses of the f-slur near the end in a canon compliant/reclaimed usage context, and implied sexual content, but extremely mild)

It still doesn’t have much of an impact on them at first though, besides some anger and annoyance. They don’t feel emotions in the same way or to the same depth that humans do, so they kind of fall back on: this sucks and that guy was a dick, guess we have to live in the stupid past now, and that’s the extent of it

But they’re also AIs, and AIs learn and grow

They hide out in a cheap apartment for the first few months or so back, going out to steal money to pay for rent and to pick up movies and stuff, but it’s exposure to the world, it’s living. And the more they interact with people, the more media they consume, the more the rigid walls of their programming break down and expand

And that’s when things start getting complicated

Because that’s when things like morals, sense of self, purpose in life, and, to their horror, real emotions start coming into play

Their evil edges start corroding, things stop being as straightforward, and they start developing into their own complex people

Being Bill and Ted with a few glorified descriptors stuck on the front starts feeling… weird, especially when they inevitably end up running into them again and being around them more

Because they’re supposed to be Bill and Ted, but they aren’t, and yet they can’t completely deny the parts of themselves that are….. it’s frustrating

As a first step in both asserting and exploring their individuality, they choose their own names

Evil Bill chooses Willis, or Will for short, and Evil Ted goes with Theoneous, Theo for short

It’s different enough to feel like their own thing, while still appeasing the ingrained itch to take BnT’s place

There are gaps like that, a disconnect/mental dissonance between their consciousnesses and the knowledge that they’re robots, circuitboards and wires and code, like a separation between what they feel is them and what they feel is the robot

That’s an experience that continues as they grow, especially as they try and figure out what to do with their lives. It’s tough sometimes, to figure out where the programming ends and where their own wants and drives begin

They’re the only ones familiar enough with future tech to help each other when they experience technical issues or need repairs, and the only ones they feel comfortable being that physically vulnerable with

It leads to them being kind of codependent, but it’s warranted in a lot of ways

They also naturally stick closer to each other, because even though they grow to have emotions and are able to care about people, they aren’t totally mushy

They don’t get as upset about things, or as excited, and while they form their own kind of love for the people they end up caring about (without admitting it), they’re still never able to connect with humans in the same way they connect with each other

It’s this inherent wall, a difference in how they experience the world

Their forms of affection are machine based, just like how humans are human based. They’ll give each other cold packs when it’s hot or they’ve been moving a lot, they’ll do evening maintenance on each other, chatting while one of them has their hand in the other’s chest cavity, and they jump on each other or bang their shoulders together super hard, because they can’t feel a thing and they’re durable enough for it, and that’s fun to them

That doesn’t really carry over to human interaction though, and a lot of times they end up coming across as cold or mean

They generally have a rougher seeming relationship than most humans. There’s a lot of teasing and insults and slapping, which turns most people off from them, but that’s how they show they’re comfortable (it’s also how they show they don’t like people, but there’s a subtle and meaningful difference there, AKA that they won’t purposefully try to harm the former party)

Robots process sound differently too, for them it’s more of a physical experience than just listening

Will’s guilty pleasure is that he likes to listen to piano (secretly), especially Debussy and other classical that sounds similar. Something about it makes his circuitry feel good and fuzzy and calms him down

He doesn’t feel comfortable telling Theo about it, it still feels like a dumb pussweed thing to be into (plus it continues to make him have some most non metal thoughts about kissing and That’s DEFINITELY not something he can share)

They also both really like death metal. Though they were loosely programmed with the knowledge of BnT’s music taste, it’s not quite their style, and they lean towards the more intense stuff

They do that in most fields though, since it usually takes higher energy stuff to get them going/excited/into something

That’s why they roughhouse a lot, and mess things up, and drive recklessly, it forces their mechanics to process more things more quickly, and as a result gives them their own form of dopamine/adrenaline

Sometimes things backfire, they’ve fucked themselves up accidentally on more then one occasion when stuff goes too far or isn’t what they expect, but they’re always there to patch each other up

When their synth skin gets ripped or torn they don’t always bother to repair it, and underneath there’s a layer of see through hard plastic and their bodies look like those clear case electronics that were popular in the 90s (idea cred to @juiceboxfrog !)

They also have inspector gadget-like telescoping stretch arms at their wrist and ankle joints, but they don’t use those much because they’re unsettling to most humans. Definitely a leg up when they want to climb places the shouldn’t, though (idea cred to @showbiz-za !)

Theo is more prone to needing fix ups than Will, since the extra wiring that was installed for the time and space spanning camera DeNomolos gave him made him more susceptible to short circuiting, over heating, and other glitches

After awhile he just takes his left eye out and leaves it like that, keeping his hair in his face to cover it. It doesn’t do anything for the internal parts of it he still has, but it’s not like it’s a loss. The connection port kept sparking, and it was uncomfortable and kept fucking with his vision, so it wasn’t worth it

Plus he didn’t really like that it used to be a camera… or still could be

One of the things Will and Theo both have to get used to is actually valuing their own privacy and autonomy

When DeNomolos was around they were just his tools, tools that he didn’t even like

They honestly grow to resent him pretty fast, both with his treatment of them, and, when their emotions are especially out of control, his creation of them

They don’t talk about it much, or when they do it’s mainly anger, not addressing or showing the more raw parts they do feel, because that’s still foreign to them, and their circuits weren’t designed to process or understand more complex stuff

Complex stuff like how being around Ted more makes Theo develop a certain… insecurity

It’s not like the connections are hard to make: he looks like Ted, he sounds like Ted, he was meant to be Ted, Ted has a dickweed of a dad, and Theo had a dickweed of a creator, Ted has Bill and Theo has Will

But Theo doesn’t have Deacon

And while he doesn’t want to be exactly like Ted, part of him also does (it was made to). Part of him wants to be human, to have those natural connections and someone to watch over

But he doesn’t and it’s weird*

He tries to ignore it, chalks it up to his drive still attempting to put him on his original track of replacing Ted, and therefore making him more aware of the family roles Ted has

For all he knows that is what it is, he’s just a robot after all

Even though they aren’t really ones for mushy love, Will and Theo do love each other

You can’t not when you know the other person inside and out, literally

They joke a lot about that when they’re doing repairs (“Dude you’re holding my heart, pretty faggy of you.”), and though they laugh, there’s an unspoken intimacy to it, something that sits warm in their wires and goes beyond platonic; something (though they would never describe it as such) loving about getting to take care of each other, and getting to get taken care of

The jokes also stop being jokes after awhile and take on a charge, morphing into unofficial flirting

Eventually that charge sparks, and their relationship becomes a different kind of physical. That’s new, too, a type of exploration neither of them are familiar with, but it’s nice, it’s good, and it’s easier to write off as casual and not meaningful than anything else (for the record I do think this works/plays out different for them than it does for humans, but I will nOt get into that here or anywhere lmao)

That arrangement doesn’t last forever, though, because one night Theo has a bad malfunction that cause him to completely power down, and it sends Will into a panic

It takes him almost an hour to fix the problem and for Theo to reboot, and when he comes back Will can’t stop touching him and checking in and it’s weird

“Why are you so worked up dude, this’s happened plenty of times.”

“Yeah I know you just… you fritzed out and went limp and it freaked me out dude.”

“So? You know this is nothing to worry about. I don’t get why you’re kinda acting like such a pussweed dude.”

“I didn’t know what was wrong! That’s plenty of reason to be fucking worried!”

“Not for you! Not for us! Why the hell do you care so much this time?”

“Because I love you, asshole!”

And then there’s silence, and staring, and then Theo cracks a smile

“Heh, fag.”

Kissing after a confession, as it turns out, makes both of them short circuit, and they wake up three days later still tangled up on top of each other, half falling off the apartment couch

“Y’know… I think we’re both fags now dude,” Will whispers, and they chuckle in the space between their mouths. “I did it first though.”

*he does get this later with Billie and Thea, but that’s a whole separate post

(As one last thing wanted to add that Love Came Along by Pansy Division perfectly encapsulates the vibes of Will n Theo’s relationship to me, AKA something casual and almost humorous while still being super intimate and emotional, so def check it out if you’re ok with suuuuper explicitly sexual lyrics bfgjgfdfg)

Headcanons masterpost

#these two have been rattling around in my head for months I have so much brainrot #and y’know what you’re getting next? my *good* robo bnt brain rot #apologies in advance ive fleshed them out in my head wayyyy too much #with help from the discord💖#shout out as always bnt discord peeps ilyyyy #bnt #bill and ted #bill and ted’s bogus journey #evil bill #evil ted #evil robot bill and ted #the fruit is talking again #the fruit is headcanoning again

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runby2 · 3 years

Text

To anyone who feels like even the slightest bit of fame for their work is hopeless on this site (or on the internet in general,)

I’ve accumulated over 3,000 non-bot followers for just posting informational posts about topics I’m passionate about, stupid content, and my artwork. This was over a span of the two years I have had this blog.

I’m not different or special from other blogs that do the same thing. I’m in a horrible living situation in real life, and I struggle with severe mental illness.

Regardless, exposure for my projects did happen. People do like what I make. You CAN reach goals like this if it’s what you desire, and I’m going to try to give some advice here on how to spread your work.

———

1) DO NOT START MAKING A BRAND AT A YOUNG AGE - Posting your art is fine, but by the time you are an adult you WILL change in every way. I’ve gone through 5 different brands. People claim starting young is the only way to get your work out there. THIS IS A LIE - Some of my old brands I deeply regret, because as a traumatized child I thought that the only way to gain attention was by acting like I knew everything. That is not the way to go about a brand especially if you are a minor. Start reading into how to source things appropriately if you’re an informational blog, find out who wrote the information that you spread in your work, learn how to detect out of date information. ADD SOURCES. ENCOURAGE AUDIENCE-BASED FACT CHECKING. This is the first thing they’ll teach you in college. If you gain a following based on rude / reckless behavior and never admitting your mistakes, you’ll get nowhere. Start your brand in early adulthood if you want to be taken seriously. You’ll have a lot of dirt to be dug up on you otherwise, and the internet is not loving or understanding.

2) YOUR FANS ARE NOT YOUR ENEMY - Want to make a brand now that you’re a decent age? State your boundaries as a content creator, and treat fans kindly. They look up to your work, and you are trying to make a brand. Don’t like reblog spam? Don’t make a brand. Don’t enjoy Like Spams? Don’t make a brand. Don’t hate on people who enjoy your work by claiming their support is a burden. You’ll look like a dick, and there’s no faster way to lose support than by acting like you’ll have it no matter how you behave. Hateful / Rude comments will happen, and don’t make responding to them into a whole thing every single time. The bad energy will get overwhelming and it will get in the way of your content. You can reply once if it’s dire and you want to make them look stupid, but believe me when I say ignoring them is more fun. (I once got hate anons left and right. After deleting them all for two days, the same anon actually sent me “respond to me already” and I’ve never felt more accomplished.) Keep in mind these people will never know if you read something they say, and don’t ever feel obligated to respond.

3) FANART IS YOUR SAVIOR - Are you an artist? Do you have 0 followers? Make fanart of media that is currently popular. It will spread your work to a large audience, and you WILL get reblogs and likes. People may even stick around for your original content. This is a well known advantage, but just in case some of you were unaware. Fanart is the fastest and best way to get people invested in your brand. Among Us fanart is the only reason why I have my current following for my OCs and Original Work.

4) DON’T ENCOURAGE HATE, OR SPREAD BIGOTRY - Wanna Speedrun being cancelled? Be my guest. If you want to make a following rooted in hatred and internet tough guy behavior, you’re digging your own grave. If you ever want to be a better person, your whole brand will collapse and you’ll have to start from scratch. Plus, half the fans you could have are most likely who you are oppressing. You’re missing out on a huge chunk of kind and loving individuals who love to spread work. You’ll not even get the Furry Community support - and as stupid as it aounds, that’s not even a joke. You’ll need that if you want those sweet Reblogs.

5) DO NOT EVER HAVE A “BEST FRIEND” ONLINE CONNECTION CHILDREN. ESPECIALLY IF THEY CALL THEMSELVES A FAN - Wanna Speedrun being cancelled part 2? The slightest slip up in how you act around them will result in a p/do accusation. Boom, whole reputation gone. Plus, now that you’re an adult, making other adult friends is IMPORTANT. Children are children, no matter if they’re ‘about to turn 18.’ You can have a casual chat every now and then, but don’t let them depend on you. They are still growing, and the most of a relationship you should have with them is a mentor or brother/sister bond. Keep kids safe, let them be kids and not have to engage with adults for validation. It’s also super dangerous if they start trusting any internet adult in a ‘friend’ way - you might be the start of this habit. Keep a filter on, never emotionally depend on a child/teen. You’re an adult, act like it.

6) ENGAGE WITH YOUR COMMUNITY - Make a Discord (With proper roles that keep minors out of adult spaces if it’s an all age Discord) with some strict safety rules. Respond to comments. Reblog and encourage fanart. Livestream. Take criticism and advice fondly (only respond to constructive criticism though. If it’s harsh or hate fueled, just think about what their point is and change your actions if you think it’s worth it.) Don’t watch critique videos though, that community is drama and hate filled and trust me, you don’t want to engage with them if you get a drama video made on your brand. Engaging with fans helps them feel seen, and can be a fun experience for both of you. Keep in mind though that you are still a brand to them, and there is a power dynamic you’ll need to be conscious of. Set up boundaries if a fan ever tries to engage in full on friend behavior.

7) LASTLY, MAKE SURE YOU’VE GOT SOME ORIGINALITY - Are you blogging about what everyone else blogs about? Consider making your brand character act different. Make yourself stand out. Act ecstatic, nervous, goofy, or whatever you feel fits how you want to be seen. Make sure people know what you’re about! Make a mascot that stands out among every other generic mascot.

———

That’s all for now, and it’s what I’ve learned. It’s working well for me, and I hope it will help you all out as well.

[Image source: http://rebloggy.com/post/gif-animals-dragon-salamander-axolotl-water-dragon-my-friend-has-a-pet-axolotl-a/30540230890]

See ya! ✨

#juicesaysthings #original work #original content #art tips #art #traditional art #digital art #furry community #blogging #blogs #content creator #content creation #advice #art advice #brand advertising

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alphadaddyderek · 3 years

Text

random sterek fic. kinda dark so...(hybristophilia, specifically, murder)

Stiles knew it was wrong. Like, come on now, it’s murder. But! Was it really so bad? ‘Cause think about it: yes, murder is wrong, no, it doesn’t make it better that the person/thing that got murdered was a bad person/thing, but, the way Derek does it?

It’s just hot as fuck.

Derek could snap someone's neck one minute, then in the next minute be like “wanna go out for dinner?”

It’s insane and it should be very disconcerting. Which it totally is! Well, it was. When Stiles was 16. Back then he was just about unnerved by everything Derek did. He’s very intimidating, okay!

Now, though? As an adult? He’s so desensitized to this shit, and it’s morphed its way from being alarming to being tolerable to being full on aphrodisiacal.

It really is insane. Like tonight for example.

Stiles is at the loft, reading a book and snuggling with their cat, Kitkat. Stiles picked the name and he’s not ashamed one bit. It’s January, and it’s uncharacteristically cold in the loft, although it's always cold at the loft, it’s usually never this cold. The central heating in there is bonkers. Anyway, Derek left to help Scott and Isaac chase down a wendigo, again. Derek told Stiles not to worry about it, which, Stiles definitely tried to do and nearly had an aneurysm for his troubles. Stiles is anxiously waiting for Derek to return, it’s one thing for Derek to run head first into danger while Stiles is there because at least then Stiles could keep an eye on him. It’s another thing entirely when Derek goes on these little trips without Stiles. Derek could be bleeding out from a gash to the chest on the forest floor for all Stiles knows.

Stiles is starting to work himself up into a panic attack, which is never good but especially when he’s alone, when the door to the loft opens up. Stiles’ head whips towards the loft door to look, to make sure that it’s Derek and not Scott coming to deliver the worst news Stiles would get since the news of his mother.

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief when Derek is the one walking through the door, clothes clean and free of blood or rips. Stiles instantly stands up and crosses the room so fast that Derek hadn’t even closed the door yet before Stiles was all in his space.

“Well hello to you too,” Derek jokes with a smirk before finally closing the loft door. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t have to find a new place to live. That would be a huge hassle,” Stiles replied even though Stiles knew that Derek knew that he was lying.

“I thought I told you not to worry,” Derek says, crossing his arms and giving Stiles The Eyebrow.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “It’s like you don’t even know me. All I do is worry.”

Derek very not subtly sniffs the air, before looking at Stiles again. “I can smell that. Are you okay?”

Stiles huffs before finally wrapping his arms around Derek like he’s been wanting to for the past minute. “I’m fine. Are you okay? You’re the one flying into danger with nothing but nails and teeth.”

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles with a chuckle. “You are grossly underestimating just how good I am at defending myself with said nails and teeth.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Can we go sit down now?”

Derek pinches Stiles in the side and ducks out of the hug before Stiles has a chance to retaliate. Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek.

“See. This is why I’m going to break up with you and start dating Cora. How about that?��

Derek snorts, something that Derek would’ve never done 6 years ago. Stiles can’t help but smile.

“Yeah right. Anyway, since you were so worried about me, I have something that’ll cheer you up,” Derek states.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Stiles asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer. As stated earlier, Stiles thinks that Derek killing is super hot. It’s a huge kink for him and Derek knows it. Derek has no problem exploiting that kink. None. Nada. Zip.

So, whenever Derek ends someone’s life, Stiles wants to fuck him. He wants to hear all the gory details because that’s part of the kink.

It’s fucked up. Like, so fucked up. If Stiles’ father ever found out about this he’d probably have a coronary.

“Wanna sit down first?” Derek asks. He’s teasing. He knows that Stiles wants to hear all the murder details and he’s being a grade A dick about it.

Stiles huffs, for the second time in the span of 2 minutes, and grabs Derek’s arm before dragging him towards the couch that their cat has long abandoned and depositing him onto one of the cushions. Stiles falls down beside him and waits not so patiently for Derek to speak.

Fortunately for Stiles, Derek takes mercy on him and fills him in. And oooh boy, it’s graphic. Derek actually did end up getting blood and innards on his clothes but he had a change of clothes in the car, which explains the lack of blood and innards on his clothes right now.

Of course, because Stiles is a fucking freak who loves this shit, he’s immensely turned on and he needs to fuck Derek as soon as humanly possible.

And by the look that Derek is giving him, Stiles thinks that will happen very, very soon.

#sterek #sterek fic #derek kills people...so...just like in canon lmao #except in this stiles has the hots for it #stiles stilinski #derek hale #my fic

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

Text

Le Rêve - Part 6

Summary: After an unproductive studio session, George and Ringo leave in a hurry. John later returns to find his glasses and another unwelcome surprise.

Things were different now.

Not entirely—they still had the band, the songwriting partnership, the united front for the media and press. It’s just that now, the tour was completed with determination and efficiency, becoming just another box to check off. Now, Paul relied much more heavily on George’s suggestions, and in a fit of jealousy or competition (Who could be sure? What was the difference?), John did the same. Now, Lennon-McCartney hardly wrote together and never wrote alone, needing George or Ringo to be in the space as a buffer.

When Paul had come back into the room that night, George knew he’d found John. He entered wordlessly, immediately throwing all of his belongings into his trunk, and George didn’t have the heart to ask where he was going. He and Ringo simply stared, too afraid to test the waters that were more tumultuous than they’d ever seen.

When Paul had finished packing, he’d looked pointedly at Ringo until the man understood. Ringo pushed himself up out of the armchair and followed him out of the room. He’d returned only minutes later with a sad smile in George’s direction that he assumed was meant to be reassuring, but instead was plain unsettling—a visual marker of the notion that something had changed within the group. Ringo had unpacked his things on Paul’s side, and that was that.

They weren’t allowed to talk about what happened. It was this unspoken rule, but a rule nonetheless—which was rather fine with George at first, anyway. But as time dragged on and the air grew no less hostile, George figured that he would rather talk about it for hours if it meant getting the old dynamic back. He was torn between two opposite poles of the spectrum, a futile effort of trying to please both Lennon and McCartney. There was a bitterness flourishing within him at the recognition of his usefulness only when they didn’t need each other. But objectively speaking, he was given more say, more credit, more songs. He couldn’t complain. Or he shouldn’t complain.

Something about the unspoken rule led George and Ringo not to talk about it with each other, either. George knew Ringo was absolutely dying to; at every uncomfortable or unnatural interaction between John and Paul, George knew a concerned glance from Ringo was coming his way. Ringo needed to talk about things, and George felt right guilty in deliberately ignoring the desire. He was just holding out hope that if no one addressed it in any context, the universe would wash away that it even happened, and the band—their livelihoods—would live on.

The quick succession of knuckles against the side of his head jerked him out of his daydream (nightmare?).

“Hello?” Ringo quipped. “Anyone home?”

George scowled and slumped deeper into his seat. “Barely.”

He and Ringo had been dicking about in the studio for the past half-hour. It was just the two of them—Paul hadn’t shown up, and John, already in a sour mood for the day, had cursed the man under his breath and stalked off. That had been about an hour ago, and when John didn’t return, the remaining boys gave up trying to focus. After a brief quarrel over who dropped the ball on bringing the marbles and playing cards, Ringo suggested a friendly competition over who could butcher “She Loves You” on their respective instruments in a funnier fashion. Which, credit where credit was due, was incredibly entertaining; only minutes before now, George had been rolling on the ground in laughter when Ringo had seemingly pulled a bicycle horn from his arse and honked it in place of the famed McCartney-Harrison “Ooh’s”.

However, as many things do when one has an attention span of about two minutes, the game soon grew tired—the song was only so long—and the pair had resorted to quiet, mindless fiddling on their instruments. In turn, the lapse into silence and thought had led George down his aforementioned neuro-rabbithole.

“Are you all right?” Ringo questioned, lifting an eyebrow in his direction. “Y’just seem a bit… off lately, I dunno.” There was an urge there, a pull. Ringo was nearly leaned forward off his chair.

“Off how?” George mused, entertaining the idea a bit. His tone was light, but his expression was stern. It was clear that they were both acknowledging the Unspoken Thing; it was also clear that it would remain as such.

Ringo bit his lip and shrugged back, evidently noting George’s reservations. “Y’know. Quiet-like. At least, more so than usual.”

George scoffed at the referenced nickname. The Quiet Beatle. As if! Give him a question worth answering, and they’d see who the quiet one was then. Certainly not him. “I’ve just got a lot on me mind,” he muttered, lifting a shoulder.

“You’re more in demand than before,” Ringo pointed out bluntly.

A rub of the temples didn’t do much to soothe the stress in his body. The weight of the emotional and mental burdens he’d carried over the last few weeks was beginning to settle on his shoulders with Ringo’s prodding. A sudden exhaustion clouded over him. “I know.”

“Is that bad?”

George looked at his friend with dull eyes. “Should it be?”

He didn’t need an answer, but it still stung a bit not to get one.

After a long beat of silence, Ringo hastily changed the subject. “Maybe we should call it quits for the day,” he suggested with a half-hearted grin, tapping the bass drum lightly and modestly. It was almost a tick at this point, the drummer seemingly wholly unaware of his actions.

George decided to play along with the shift in energy. “I agree, Ritchie. Feels a bit useless without Their Royal Highnesses around to conduct us,” he added with a roll of the eyes and a giggle.

Ringo hummed in agreement. “Oh, John, oh, Paul, please save us! We can’t even remember what album we’re supposed to be working on!” He cackled at his own joke.

“Help!, isn’t it?” George partly ignored the dramatic flair and turned to flick off the amp. He caught Ringo’s sparkling stare as he reached to unplug his Rickenbacker.

“No, mate. We’ve done that one already. Y’know, the whole ‘film’ bit?”

George blinked. “Right.”

“George Harrison, foremost Beatles expert,” Ringo chided. He glared reproachfully at an imaginary camera. “Don’t do drugs, kids.”

“Piss off!” George tried to glower, overruled by the laughter in his voice. Ringo offered him a hand and pulled him up out of the chair.

“Fancy a smoke?”

George’s lips drew into a wide grin. Based on the context, he knew exactly what kind of smoke he was implying. “Race ya to the car.”

—

“Mind telling me where everyone ran off to?”

Paul lifted an accusatory gaze in John’s direction as the man entered the room, his brow deeply furrowed in concentration.

“How should I know?” John answered, scanning the room fervently. His eyes hadn’t met Paul’s yet, Paul noted with a twinge of annoyance.

“Was there not a session today?” Paul hinted, irked by the idea that John too may have tried to skip out. Sure, Paul had been late, but at least he’d intended on coming.

John paused for a moment, shooting him a critical glare. “You tell me.”

He didn’t feel like trying to defend himself.

After a long moment of staring expectantly, John realized he wasn’t going to get an answer. He huffed and returned to his search, tipping over a chair to peer underneath it.

Paul rolled his eyes and offered the glasses at arm’s length, clearing his throat to draw the attention. John blushed and hurried over to snatch them up. He quickly stuffed them back into his pocket.

In response to the twinge of curiosity in his gaze, Paul only shrugged. “Left ‘em on the settee over there, you did. Just figured you would return for them sooner or later.”

John grunted in response.

Paul raised an eyebrow as the man began to head for the door. “All right, then. Mind at least telling me where you’re running off to?”

“I just came back for me glasses.”

“Came back?”

“You weren’t there,” John muttered, nearly inaudible. “I left.”

Paul stiffened, viciously reprimanding the sentimental twitch his heart gave to John’s response. “’M just late. Got caught up in traffic, is all.”

It was a silly excuse. John quirked an eyebrow at the boldfaced lie, knowing good and well Cavendish was barely a ten-minute walk. Paul watched him chew his lip for a moment before deciding to let it be.

Paul accepted John’s compliance graciously and returned to tuning his bass. His skin prickled as he felt John’s eyes on him, watching him closely. Tensions were still incredibly high between them, on account of the thing-that-happened-but-“never-happened”—and it was taking a lot of getting used to. The feeling was unsettling; time and again Paul would have to physically restrain himself, ignoring the twitching desire in his hand to touch John or biting back a witty comment that only John would understand. The emotional connection they’d had was gone, or at least dormant, and Paul couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going through that thick head anymore. It even seemed that Ringo and George had a better guess than him.

It was miserable, really, having to pretend that everything was just dandy. There had been a substantial amount of press upon return from the tour, which was more of an irritation than anything else. There, he could slide into his Paul McCharmly persona, the façade already being somewhat of a character. The lie got quite easy to live when one was already acting. But the media circus was relatively quiet now (as it would ever be), and the hardest part was trying to pretend in front of the three people that knew him better than anyone else alive.

He wasn’t even sure who the pretending was for anymore. It certainly did nothing to quiet his mind or soul.

“What are you working on?” It was a half-arsed effort at conversation, but an effort nonetheless.

“Nothing, yet,” Paul answered, frowning in the direction of his instrument. “I’ve got a bit—real simple, for ‘Wait’. Might add some flare to it, might finish it. Might run it through and absolutely hate it and scrap it. Who knows,” he concluded, almost to himself.

“I think we should talk.” John’s voice, quiet, low.

Paul glanced up at him with a start, desperately trying to mask the surprise on his face. John was looking at him with an odd expression on his face, something Paul couldn’t quite put words to. Only then did he realize that it was the first time the two of them had been alone since the incident.

Heart pounding, he tensed. “When?”

“Now.” The answer was definitive.

“About what?” Paul responded sheepishly.

John’s eyes flashed.

Let’s just forget it ever happened.

Paul felt a sudden wave of stubbornness wash over him, feeling hollow at the abrupt activation of the memory. Of course he couldn’t fucking forget it happened. He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t be expected to. None of them should. Paul noticed the sad, wondering gazes from the other bandmates as well. Sweeping it under the rug had been wholly counterproductive to the entire group (though he didn’t entirely want to test the alternative, either). Best case scenario, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened.

But it did. And life was infinitely worse now because of it.

Paul swallowed hard. This was all John’s fault. Paul could have kept the dream a secret for the rest of his life. A few shameful wanking sessions was probably all it would take to get over it, and while he might look at John a bit differently after, at least John wouldn’t be looking at him differently. About a week of awkwardness would likely ensue, and John would make some offhand comment about how Paul was acting queer, and the two would laugh it off, only one of them knowing how much truth the comment carried. It was John’s fault, because Paul could have figured it out on his own.

“You know what,” John answered coldly.

John wanted to be cold? Paul could do cold. “I really don’t,” he countered with sickeningly false innocence. “What’s got you all worked up, Johnny?”

“Fuck off, Paul, you know what I’m talking about. Don’t try to fuckin’ skirt around it anymore.”

Paul’s heart was hammering in his throat, the blood rushing in his ears. After weeks of drowning in his own head, hearing the words come out of John’s mouth so… dismissively was blindingly infuriating. He had been driving himself mad trying not to talk about it, to think about it, to feel it. He’d shoved the memory down with so much force he’d thought his soul would pop, only to watch it helplessly bubble back to the surface. There was no forgetting it, and there was no addressing it. And now, John was breaking the number one Unspoken Rule of the Unspoken Thing like he never gave a shit about them in the first place.

“Skirting ar-? I’m not skirting around anything. I’m truly blanking, Johnny.” He paused, throat too constricted to swallow the massive lump in it. “Are you sure it’s not something I was supposed to forget?” The comment didn’t have near the effect Paul had hoped.

“Every conversation’s got to turn into a fuckin’ brawl with you, doesn’t it?” John crossed his arms, looking like nothing more than a pissed-off older sibling.

Paul was beside himself. His voice cracked, the words coming out in a near-shriek, but he was so furious that it hardly mattered. “With me? Every conversation is a brawl with me?”

“D’you need to bloody hear it again?” John looked minorly inconvenienced. If he’d had a watch on, he’d be sure to check it right now lazily. His demeanor was utterly vexatious, awakening feelings Paul didn’t even know he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this upset with someone.

“You think you get some type of medal, standing up in front of me and acting like none of this matters?” Paul was on his feet now, openly striding towards him. Startled, John stumbled backward a step before smacking his back against the wall. “You want a bleeding award?” Paul raised his tone an octave and fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, a mockery on all levels: “Oh, John, you’re so stony and brave, I bet nothing ever rattles my big, strong man!”

“Fuck you,” John whispered, his eyes begging the conversation to slow down. But Paul was on a roll now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t let out all of the pent-up pain John and John alone had caused over the last few weeks.

“No, fuck you. Do you know how hard it’s been? News flash, John. Not everything is about how you feel. Hard to believe, I know.” John opened his mouth to speak, but Paul cut him off. He was practically on him now, pushing John against the wall as he helplessly cowered under Paul’s alarming tirade.

“Do you know how hard it’s been for me? Trying to figure out if I’m a goddamn queer because of you? And how about the sleepless nights, eh? You’ve had those too, I know it.” A sick sense of pride effloresced in Paul’s chest as John’s eyes shot wide with recognition. “Lying in bed and wondering if you’re not who you thought you were. Wondering what when wrong along the way to make you this way, and what the hell you can do about it now. It’s maddening. And you took my right to get an answer, John.” Paul’s voice broke a bit at the next part. “Talking to you was my only hope at figuring this out and you took it away from me. And now we can’t talk about anything anymore.”

When John started to speak again, Paul lifted a final triumphant hand in his face. “I’m not done. Because let me tell you, Lennon, I don’t care if you need to bawl it out or never think about it again. But don’t stand here and fucking bullshit me like this. I know you.”

John straightened against the wall, eyes flashing with a hatred that almost made Paul’s knees buckle. “You don’t have a bloody clue what’s bullshit. Your whole foundation is bullshit. You’re not pissed at me because you’re upset that our pretty union wasn’t consummated, and thus I robbed you of a chance to explore this bit of newfound sexuality.” John’s tone was mocking, saturated with pretentiousness and exaggeration. “You’re pissed at me because I was just another shag you didn’t get to fully add to your sexual conquests. Grow the fuck up, Paul. You want to talk about knowing each other? I know you. You’re the one who’s bullshitting yourself, not me.”

Attacking John back felt like a safer bet than trying to defend himself. “Like you were there for some miraculous consummation? Some beautiful, heart-wrenching dénouement to a tragic love story? You’re full of it. Don’t come for me like you had some higher ground to speak from. We’re not special, John. We don’t have some kind of cosmic soulmate connection where we can read each other’s minds and desires. You and I, as anything, aren’t going to live happily ever after. Go buy into some other fuckin’ fantasy.”

“You were a mistake,” John spat.

“Mistakes happened,” Paul concluded. “I didn’t.”

John gaped at him as Paul pushed off. His chest was heaving, tight with unrestrained breaths, looking like a cornered animal. Though it was impossible to explain, Paul watched in real time as something shattered in John’s soul. He didn’t know what it was, and it didn’t seem like John knew, either. Paul turned on his heel before he could give the sight any more thought.

“You told me to forget it. So that’s what I’m doing. For good.” Paul stalked back to where his guitar lay on the ground. He began to gather his belongings and pack up for the day. “This conversation is over.”

“So that’s it? You don’t want to talk about it?” John called out to him, planting himself in the doorway as Paul made for the exit.

“Get out of the way, John.”

He held his ground and spoke honestly for the first time in a long, long time. “You’re not gonna talk about it, yeah? That’s fine. Fuckin’ beautiful. I’ll talk about it. I love you.”

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #part 6 #chapter fic #ao3 #more angst #there's a happy ending coming soon i promise

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jjyusmile · 3 years

Text

- #14&15: BANGCHAN from prompt list

requested by: @moonbaescribbles

the world spins on its axis every day. and there were only a few moments where your world was turned upside down. it turned anti clockwise, it span so quickly you wanted to get off... but you didn’t.

the first time was a moment you can never forget. it the first time you saw him. an ordinary day, to say the least, rushing passed your coworkers to get to the lockers after the bus broke down on your route to work. light droplets of sweat formed at the nape of your neck.

“late again,” minho quirked. a scowl sent his way and a slight shove as you fixed your uniform before entering the shop floor.

distracted, you were messing with your apron as you approached the order station. yet to enter customer service mode, you muttered a small ‘how can I help?’ that was barely audible. it was a cough that sounded like the clearing of someone’s throat that brought you to reality.

this moment.

clad in sweats, a grey beanie covering his wavy locks, peaks of blonde peaking out in light flicks. a guitar strapped to his back. you were drawn in within seconds. his eyes were mesmerising, following your every move as you fiddled with the knot that you had wrapped behind your back.

your eyes met his and you knew you couldn’t turn back from this moment. a sheepish smile was met with a small chuckle that fell from his lips. you were cute.

“hi.. sorry! what can i get you today?” stumbling over your words? not your usual behaviour.

“i’ll take an iced americano please, just black.”

“like your soul?-” the joke wasn’t as funny as you’d hoped it would be. a shake of his head. but, you weren’t mistaken. his eyes glistened when your face morphed in embarrassment, crinkling along with his nose... was that a nervous chuckle?

“can I get a name for your order?” your sharpie wavered in the air, waiting with expectant eyes as his own attempted to memorise your features. the way your lips dipped into a curve at the peak of your cupid’s bow. the light freckles that grazed your nose.

another smile. “it’s chris.”

a snigger sounded beside you followed by a full groan. min had deserved that smack.

you didn’t do well with people. you never opened your heart for anyone. the only person you ever let get close enough to see the flicker of light in your eyes was minho. until now.

over a year had gone by. he came back every evening since the moment he laid eyes on you. it wasn’t long until he noticed a pattern.

monday’s were the quietest - those were the nights he came by earlier so he could spend hours talking to you about anything. anything and everything.

tuesdays were the evenings you had to dip out for an hour, your tutor fixed an hour a week where you could ask them questions about your assignments. your boss let you take an extra 30 minute break on tuesdays as long as you came in earlier on saturdays.

you didn’t work on wednesday or thursday evenings. he hated that. not for you - he loved that you had time to focus on yourself instead of deciphering the difference between a dry latte and a wet cappuccino (he always claimed it was one of life’s unanswerable questions). but it meant he had to wait two whole days to see you again.

friday nights you were open late but rarely busy. those were the nights you both slipped an extra shot into your drinks so you could stay up until the sun rose together. after about a year those americanos changed to a bottle of wine - he called it fine dining.

saturdays were the nights he couldn’t come by. he always had a gig with his friends. it got to the point where you changed your saturday shift to a thursday so you could attend. he always made sure you were front row, sporting his favourite sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you screamed your little head off.

and sunday evenings were your favourites because you could people watch. the bell of the door chimed often as families wandered in looking for a late night pick me up before the monday morning rush. sundays were the days you allowed him behind the bar. you both stood, bent over the counter top with your chin rested on your palm. his friend, felix, spent every sunday morning baking and chris always brought some for you to try. those were the evenings you gave in to light touches of his fingers against your own.

eventually, you would leave work together and return to your apartment. the sentiment never wore off though. being able to bring you home filled his chest with warmth. meeting you at that coffee shop was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

until the day he found out his group were offered a contract by a hot-shot company in korea. twelve hours from you.

nearing two years, you felt ashamed to hate the idea of him leaving. pride ran through your veins every time he got up on stage; he was born to be up there. but the thought of losing him to it... that was unbearable.

your smile didn’t meet your eyes as the words “that’s amazing” fell from your lips and your arms tightened around his waist. he knew this. he knew it would be a shock to you. but he never expected the light that once burned in your irises at his every move would be snuffed by his news.

your fingers fell from his as you muttered that you had to go to work. this moment made you realise exactly why you didn’t open up to people so easily. as happy as you were that he was achieving his dream, it felt like wasted years... happy memories clouded by the stench of loneliness and the forgotten. you knew you were being selfish... but he made you feel whole. and the thought of that being taken away scared you, almost as much as the thought of losing him.

you pushed away the thought and, inevitably, pushed him away too. you immersed yourself in your work and eventually locked your phone in your bedside table to stop the ringing. so that he would stop ringing. if you ignored the problem, it would go away.

he was giving you space. he knew where you were, he always did. but he knew that even seeing his face would halt you into reality once more. both of you. he was leaving tomorrow - he had to see you once more even if it meant the end.

he peered through the glass to catch a glimpse of your smile, attempting to make out the silhouettes through the steamed windows of the shop, with flickers of customers clouding his vision. what he didn’t expect to see was his replacement.

your tear stained face buried into your friends chest. leaning against the same counter that his memories drew with smiles and laughter. now morphed into pain. you were going to be fine after all. he knew minho would look after you; his longing gazes and desire to please you told him he would make a good replacement. you didn’t need him anymore - you both had to find your happiness. and he was gone.

the glitch in the story is where your world finally begins to spin once more. it once stood motionless, uneventful mixes of waking up, going to work, finishing homework and sleeping. repeat five times a week. the two days that you had to yourself were buried into your pillow with no desire to bring yourself out of the wallowing state.

but two years has passed. you were almost back on track. you had graduated and decided it was time for you to move on with your life. you were going to travel the world, but right now you had chosen to settle down, in your own little coffee shop. Blessings.

truthfully, glimpses of him were met in most guys you encountered. those with messy blonde hair. those that looked like they could pour their soul into their lyrics. those whos smile lit up the room... but it was never blinding like his.

some nights you completely lost all sense of being. you heard his voice on the radio in the cafe. it sent you into a pit of sorrow each time, a numbness drowning you. how could you move on completely if he’s still here?

some nights... your finger hovered over his name hesitantly until you fell into despair as the tone rang in your ear twice... twice because he no longer had that number. it still went to voicemail.

“hi, you’ve reached chris! i must be busy, i guess... beep, yeah? don’t forget the beep!”

a dull ache formed in the pit of your stomach. his cheery voice evoked a sob that physically racked your body forward. a minute had passed before you gained the courage to speak into the void...

“you left me. you left and you didn’t say a word.”

you said the same words every time. each time a different meaning.

how could you leave me? you’re a dick for leaving me. you said you would never leave me. was I not good enough for you to stay?

but the truth was.. you forgave him a long time ago. he followed his dream. you were still hurt but you knew he wasn’t completely to blame. pushing someone away when the going gets tough was your forté. the numbness remained but it didn’t stop you from reaching out to the slither of light that breached the end of your tunnel.

the final turn was the most unexpected of all. it was a saturday. since you had opened up your new shop, serving coffee on the saturday evening had become your favourite pastime. teenagers waltzed in for an hour or so before they headed out for a party just to get their caffeine fix.

even in your own place, you had become accustomed to the sound of his voice that flooded the radio to the love song that threatened to break you into pieces.. but it didn’t. your body went numb but your heart flew as the low buzz of the customers meshed seamlessly with his velvet lyrics.

you’ve persevered until now.

what’s your worry? trust me,

blessings waiting for you.

despite the hurt, his words a source of comfort. as they always were. he poured his heart into his work and you admired that the most. his words and his voice made you believe him, were there blessings waiting to you?

distracted, you almost missed the chiming of the door. hurriedly, you shot back to the counter.

autopilot.

“hi, what can i get you today?” your eyes trailed from the till until they landed on the customer.

a very familiar face, followed by jisung and changbin. the face that you saw on all the billboards, the one that had teenagers screaming over when he popped up on the tv.

what is he doing here? here of all places? you couldn’t tell if your thought was laced with hurt or disbelief. or both.

the sharp pain in your chest began to sooth as your eyes trailed down to his hand. a scribble of black ink that had smudged across his palm. you could faintly make out the address of your cafe along with the minho’s number scattered in block characters. he had contacted minho, he had found you the only way he knew how.

in his hands were suitcases clad with luggage tags that told you they hadn’t been out of the air long. a flash of a memory flooded your mind.

you giggled as his fingers trailed up the curve of your waist. you were lying in bed on a sunday morning after a gig, noses brushing, hair tousled and your legs intertwined.

“hey,” he grabbed your attention. you hummed in response, your eyes still following the path of his fingertips.

“if we ever have to leave each other-” he started. “for any reason. promise that if I ever have to go, from the moment I come back, you will be the first one I see no matter what.”

you raised your eyebrow questioningly. his previous movements had sent you into a sleepy haze. but his eyes were sincere which made you nod your head without a thought. looking closer, they were clouded with a fear that only the two of you could understand. one that feared losing the other.

he leaned forward to rest his lips against your forehead as your eyes fluttered closed, “i’d go to the end of the earth just to see you again.”

heart thumping in your chest, a sharp intake of breath, and your eyes shot to his piercing ones.

“my usual?”

it was like an ignition had been lit for the first time in two years. it was like all numbness washed away the moment his eyes crinkled in a shy smile. it was like you had found the blessing he promised as he sung through your speakers every day since he left.

#kpopscape #stray kids #bang chan #bang chris #stray kids bang chan #stray kids chan #stray kids chan imagines #skz chan #skz bang chan #skz angst #stray kids angst

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ricksbowen · 4 years

Note

Could you write an imagine where Ricky and y/n “hate each other” but actually have feelings for each other and it comes out because at a cast party they’re playing truth or dare or 7 minutes in heaven or something? Sorry if that’s confusing 😂

few more minutes | r.b

IN WHICH: ricky and y/n’s minutes in heaven needs a bit more than seven minutes.

INSPIRATION: feel good inc. — gorillaz

WARNING: this is pretty heated and there’s underage drinking.

A/N: trust me babe, your request wasn’t annoying at all <3 also, idk if i’m even allowed to write smut for ricky so i just wrote a make-out scene.

“Truth or dare? What are we, 12?”

“Apparently,” you heard Gina hum from beside you, leaning back on her elbows as she eyed the others situate themselves in a circle.

“It’ll be fun! Promise,” Carlos encouraged, clapping his hands excitedly as he placed an empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle.

“Yeah, stop being so pessimistic, bubbles,” Ricky remarked from across you, the scowl that appeared on your face enough to make him grin.

It was both your’s and Ricky’s fault why the whole cast was together on a Saturday night with alcohol, karaoke, and movies.

Miss Jenn’s suggestion of ‘hanging out to get to know each other better’ didn’t go as innocent as she might’ve thought. You were the designer for all of the sets, for Miss Jenn had found you walking out of detention for spray painting a mural in one of East High’s many empty staircases.

She made you her artist, as long as you promised her to never vandalize the school again — and you made that promise.

Already, you were known as a trouble maker. You didn’t fit in with any of the ‘theatre nerds’ ( a name you gave them before you fully knew them ) at first, but you all got along.

The only person that was never fond of you was Ricky Bowen.

You had met him due to your job in the play, and it was obvious since the beginning that you both couldn’t stand each other. You went out of your way to piss him off, whether it was by saying little remarks or giving him stupidly lovey-dovey nicknames that made him flush red. Whether it was with anger or surprise, you didn’t know, but he did the same thing to you. His favorite nickname for you was ‘bubbles,’ for he had caught you getting sidetracked from painting by blowing bubbles.

“Carlos, hurry and spin it before Y/N and Ricky start making out,” Ej commented with a laugh, his arm around Nini as she smiled at his joke from behind her red solo cup.

“Fuck off,” you groaned, the group erupting in laughs at your words. They always teased you and Ricky about the sexual tension that was almost suffocating at this point.

“Okay, I’m spinning!” Carlos announced, reaching towards the bottle and spinning it with one flick.

In a span of twenty minutes, Carlos had given you a lap dance, Ej’s hair was tied into little buns on top of his head, Big Red had done a handstand for five minutes straight, Ricky had to kiss Ej for specifically 23 seconds, and you had pulled your bra out from under your shirt and put it back on in a quick move. You were all giggly at this point, just a group of teens laughing at each other as they drank.

Big Red grinned as his spin landed on you— he had something up his sleeve. “Y/N!” Big Red sing-songed, making you roll your eyes with a smile. “Your turn! Truth or dare?” he asked dramatically, leaning back and nearly falling over as he did.

“Better give me something good, Redonovich.” You smirked, bringing the beer bottle back up to your lips and taking a swig. “Give me a dare, Reddie.”

Seb clapped excitedly, motioning for Big Red to move closer to him. “Oh my God! Big Red—“ His words were cut off as he whispered into Big Red’s ear, everyone else leaning in to try and listen. Seb moved away from Big Red, a crazy grin on his face that Big Red matched.

Clearing his throat dramatically ( he was a dramatic drunk ), Big Red pointed between you and Ricky, who had been quiet ever since you pulled the bra trick in front of him. “You and Ricky. Seven minutes in heaven in Ej’s room.”

“Wait— What?” Ej protested, Gina shushing him. Even she couldn’t help the growing smile on her face.

“Are you serious?” you asked with a laugh, looking at Big Red to see if there was a hint of teasing or joking in his face. Nothing; he was dead serious.

“Are you chickening out, Y/N?” Ricky snarked, making you glare at him as you cocked a brow.

Gina nudged you gently. “If you don’t wanna do it, we’re not forcing you.”

You looked at her for a moment, muttering a small, ‘fuck it,’ under you breath before nodding. You had nothing to lose, and life was too short.

Cheers of agreement rang through the group as you stood up, walking up to Ricky and offering a hand. He took it with an annoyed sigh, and you tightened your grip on his hand as a way to tell him, ‘stop being a dick.’

The both of you walked to Ej’s room, grumbles of, ‘This is stupid,’ and ‘If you breathe near me, I swear,’ being shared between you both. The group followed you, Ej’s strict rules of, ‘Don’t do anything on my bed or I swear—“

“Seven minutes in the room, babes! Unless you need more later,” Carlos said with a laugh, leaning against Ej’s door as you both stepped in.

“Don’t forget to pull out!” Was the last thing you heard before they closed the door on you, their laughs and remarks muffled by the door.

“This is bullshit.” You sat next to the door, legs criss-crossed as you ran a hand through your hair.

“You’re telling me. I’d rather be with anyone other than,” Ricky scrunched his nose for extra effect, “you.” He sat on Ej’s bed, letting himself fall back onto the neatly made bed.

“Holy shit,” you laughed humorlessly to yourself, standing up and walking closer to him. “Why do you hate me so much? I haven’t done shit to you!”

“Says you!” Ricky used his elbows to prop himself up, glaring at you as he did. “Ever since the day we met, you’ve been on my ass for every little thing! It’s just, ‘Wow Ricky, sing better!’ or ‘Holy shit, your dance moves suck!’”

“You’re not any better! How many times have you purposely scared me while I was painting so that I could mess up? Or those stupid little nicknames you gave me— what’s up with that?” you questioned, watching as he stood up from the bed with a scowl.

“Shut up.”

“Or what?” you challenged, chest touching his as you looked at him. Your eyebrow cocked up, a mocking smirk on your mouth “Aw, did I strike a—“

Ricky pressed his mouth to yours, his hands holding the sides of your face. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor, lips moving quick against his as all the sexual frustration you had towards him was let out. You moved closer, leading him backwards until he fell back onto the bed.

Ricky’s chest heaved, and you straddled him with a triumphant smile. You leaned back down, kissing him gently ( which totally caught him off guard ) before trailing kisses down his neck and leaving marks.

“Never thought you’d be the dominant type.”

“Shut up, Ricky.”

Ricky let out a breathless laugh that immediately stopped when he felt you grind down, his teeth catching his bottom lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

“What— cat got your tongue?” you remarked, moving down harder against him to try and get a reaction out, to no avail. He was keeping his noises back, trying to avoid giving you the satisfaction of hearing him.

So that was the game he wanted to play.

Before you could continue to be on top, you felt him pull you down, switching the positions in an instant as he hovered over you. His lips met yours once again, and you tugged at the bottom of his shirt to remove it. The clothing was soon thrown somewhere in the room, long forgotten and quickly joined by your own shirt.

Ricky swore he forgot to breathe when he saw you toss your shirt over your shoulder.

“Ricky?” you asked, suddenly nervous as you looked up at him. He shook his head, pressing his lips to yours quickly.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Your cheeks bloomed red, making Ricky grin sheepishly as he brought your lips back up to his. Ricky’s lips trailed down, down, down, leaving a mark right above your breast and listening to the panting moan you let out before he moved back up to your face.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked softly.

“Never been more sure,” you replied, looking him in the eyes before kissing him again.

Your hands reached down to his jeans, the need taking over the both of you as you tried to get his clothes off. You giggled softly when he cursed his jeans, his hands reaching down to try and pull them off of him until—

“Do you guys need extra minutes?”

Big Red’s voice broke you both apart for just a second, chests heaving and breaths fanning over each other as Ricky gave you a wide-eyed look.

“Give us like, an hour!” you replied, hearing Ricky snort and try not to let out a laugh. From behind the door, you heard the groans of your cast.

“Pay up, Seb,” said Gina’s voice, victory evident in her voice. “I told you that they were gonna need more time.”

“I can’t believe they’re gonna have sex on my bed,” followed Ej’s voice.

“I’m gonna need new sheets.”

—

TAGS: @tomshufflepuff, @myrandom-fandomlife, @softpeteparker, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo

#ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen imagines #ricky bowen headcannons #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen smut #ricky bowen hcs #joshua bassett hcs #joshua bassett angst #joshua bassett imagines #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett #gina porter #big red #ej caswell #carlos rodriguez #requests !

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everythinggeeky · 4 years

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Learning Distraction | Kylo Ren (College AU)

Professor! Kylo Ren x Student! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), language, teacher/student relationship, age gap, academic dishonesty, semi-public sex, porn with plot lmao, kinda dubcon, oral (m & f receiving), rough sex, like no aftercare, kylo has no sympathy

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Professor Ren’s English 305 class was notorious for weeding out the strong students from the weak. Will your infatuation for the enthralling professor distract you from your success?

A/N: requests are open!

masterlist

Walking into the lecture hall on the first day of the semester was always a nerve-wracking experience. And on the first day of your sophomore year? Just as stressful as the first. Professor Ren’s English 305 class was described as rigorous and intense. It was a weeding course for the department, after all. It was intended to separate those who were serious about the major from those who were not. If anyone in his class showed the slightest sign of incapability or weakness, they would be dropped from the roster.

That was the agreement.

Taking your place in the second row felt comfortable. The second row shows you still care about the material but aren’t desperate for attention like all the girls in the first row; bent over in their seats, desperately scribbling down notes on Professor Ren’s lecture. Clearly distracted from his soft black waves and cleanly pressed dark button-down shirts rolled up to the elbows.

He was intimidating. Yet charming. And you were captivated.

When Ren had opened the class with the syllabus guidelines, you were immediately overwhelmed. Would this semester even be possible with a full course load? This class alone would demand all of your attention and would occupy all of your time between lectures, study groups, and independent work and reading.

His writing standards were ridiculous and unlike any other professor you’ve ever had a class with. Single-spaced 11 point font, serif-font only. Any spelling or usage error was an automatic failure. In his opinion, an upperclassman English major wasn’t allowed to make a spelling mistake. It was lazy and proved that you were incapable. In addition to his insane writing standards, Ren had assigned multiple difficult texts for the semester that was way beyond the 300-course level. There was no way you would be able to understand anything you were reading, let alone write about it.

But damn, did he look good.

His impeccably shined shoes waltzed across the lecture hall and instantly took command of the space. All of the students in the lecture hall were equally as intimidated by the course as you were, but some did a better job of hiding it. And some, like the girls in the front in their short skirts and fluffy pens, did not hide their infatuation for the professor at all. There was no doubt they were here for one thing; a chance with the black sheep of the English department.

Over the course of the syllabus week, the front row had decreased by half. The fluffy pen girls were scared away, and you were getting pretty damn close yourself. The opening assignment was due two days ago, it required a full and detailed reading of the text. The close textual analysis was the core of the assignment.

His prompts included trick questions and meaningless tidbits of information. He expected his students to take a strong approach to the text and defend it. SparkNotes could not save you in English 305. The remainder of the class assignments were structured exactly like this one. If you failed this first assignment, you would be removed from the roster.

It had taken you over 12 hours to complete the first five-page assignment. In the process, you lost your mind and all confidence in reading and understanding the English language. When you submitted at the beginning of the lecture on Friday (on paper, Ren was the only professor in the department to demand it), you were just happy you didn’t have to look at the assignment anymore.

“I’ll have these graded and I’ll have individualized comments on your papers. Areas of improvement and areas of success. You are dismissed.” Professor Ren announced, not looking into the rows of students who have already mentally checked out for the day.

Neatly packing your things into your bag, you had missed his silent approach to the table.

“y/n, correct?”

You whipped your head up to meet him, nodding “correct.”

“Glad to see you’re paying attention today. Are you enjoying the material?”

You stood from your seat, gaining a few inches but easily a foot shorter than him.

“I can’t lie and say it isn’t difficult, Professor. But after the first few readings for clarity, I did start to enjoy it.”

“Good. It’s challenging for a reason, it’ll make you a better reader and a better writer.” He walked away from your table, placing his own things into his leather messenger bag.

“Enjoy your weekend, y/n. But not too much.”

You left the hall with a curt nod, Professor Ren only a few paces behind you. Controlling your breath, you turned down the hall to exit the academic hall, returning to your dorm room to relax for the weekend.

When Monday came around, to say that you’ve been incredibly nervous about your grade for Professor Ren’s class would be an understatement. You had dressed nicely for today’s class, you had a presentation in your next class and maybe it would provide an extra boost of confidence to outweigh all of your anxiety.

Taking your seat in the second row, you found no one in front of you. They weren’t joking about removing students from the roster. Now, no one separated you from Professor Ren’s intimidating glare. Preparing yourself for the lecture, you tried to stay focused as best as you could, but today, Professor Ren was wearing a deep navy blue button-down with a skinny black tie, without a wrinkle in sight. He looked impeccable. The deep navy complimented his hair so nicely.

“y/n!” Ren declared from the front of the room, “Can you remind us what Blake told the world?” He brought you out of your daze.

“Uhh…’no bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings’….?”

“No. Blake sought to remind his readers of the beauty of nature and destruction through his works of poetry, art, and printmaking. And I suggest you pay attention to the lectures. This will be in the midterm.”

Without a response but with a heavy blush, you continued to scribble down notes on your notebook, including what Ren just said.

The rest of the lecture went relatively smoothly, and only a small amount of embarrassment. Professor Ren handed out the introductory assignments right before dismissal. He handed your assignment to you upside down, you turned it over to see it scribbled in red pen. Heavy underlining and circles seemed to outnumber your own writing on the page. You scoffed in indignation and quickly filed the paper away in your bag in sheer embarrassment. Haven’t you had enough today?

“y/n, please see me in my office after class.” Professor Ren called out to you from the hallway before you could have the chance to slip out the door.

Apparently not. Shit.

When you made it to his office, he was already sitting comfortably in the large desk chair behind the heavy wooden desk. His office was decorated floor to ceiling with bookshelves which were full of books spanning a variety of eras, most of them 18th century, his specialty. You took a curious look around, his office seemed to match exactly what you thought it would.

“When you’re done gawking, take a seat.” he was the first to speak.

Without another word or another look, you took your seat in the chair across the desk from his. Setting your backpack down next to you, you avoided looking up at your professor.

“I’m worried about your grades. You’re in danger of being dropped from my roster.”

“Is this because of the intro paper?”

“Yes, and you’ve been...distracted by other things in my class, y/n. You have incredible potential. You just need to apply yourself.”

“Apply myself? Professor...I don’t understand… I read the text, and I read your notes. I worked for hours on that paper. I don’t understand what could be the problem here.”

“First of all, your intro paper was atrocious. It was disorganized and lacked a clear thesis.”

You opened your mouth in indignation, to which Ren quickly raised his hand to silence you.

“Look at last Wednesday’s notes again. You’ll find that Walpole would’ve said otherwise.”

“Professor Ren-”

He cut you off once again, “y/n.”

You sighed, surrendering, “perhaps I had been a little distracted.”

“Distracted.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What could have possibly held your attention that is more important than Walpole?”

You hesitated to defend yourself, “you, sir.”

“Me? Perhaps something should be done about that.”

“What? I don’t understand...I can join another study group if that would help, perhaps there are other students that understand the material better than I do…”

“No. You’ve already been assigned a study group. You’ll remain there until I say so. As for your distraction, come here.” His demeanor flipped on its head.

You rose hesitantly from your seat, standing in place. He called you over with a seamless motion of his hand. With that, you stepped closer to him, keeping a reasonable distance between your bodies. From this angle, he appeared incredibly tall, taller than when he was in the front of the lecture hall.

“Professor Ren, if there’s anything I can do to keep my grade up, I’ll do it. I need this class to graduate…”

“Oh, you’ll do anything…?”

“Yes, sir.”

Without another word, he pushed you gently to your knees in front of him.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me in class, practically drooling. You’re just as bad as those sluts with their pink fuzzy pens...spreading their thighs and just hoping to get some dick to pass…is that what you want?”

You nod and then bow your head in shame as Kylo palms himself softly. He unzips the fly of his slacks and pulls himself free.

“Take it,” he growls softly.

Reaching to grasp his cock, you start jerking it slowly.

“Don’t tease me.” he snarls through gritted teeth.

Licking slowly from base to tip, you take him in your mouth. Eventually, you gain confidence and begin bobbing your head down his shaft. Ren gripped the back of your skull, pushing you deeper onto his cock. Choking, you try to steady yourself and push off using his thighs. He doesn’t let you, instead, pushing down further on him.

With a heavy groan, Ren finally releases you, pushing you back to the ground.

“Stop. Before you make me cum in your mouth like a common whore. Up. On the desk.” He orders.

You rise from your knees to sit on his desk.

“Where all naughty girls like you end up…spread your thighs for me like I know you want to.”

Propping your knees up on the sides of the desk as instructed, you revealed the thin lacy panties that were hiding underneath your short skirt. Ren took his position on his knees, eye level with your core. Looking up at you, he searched for any sign of resistance and found none, so he continued.

“You know I can take whatever I want…” he trailed off before lowering your panties off your hips and tossed them beneath his desk to retrieve later.

Spreading your folds with his fingers, he rubbed over your clit with his thumb once, twice, waiting for your signal.

“Professor!”

“That feels good, you little slut…? Soaking wet for your professor…”

“Yes sir, please! Do something...it feels so good!”

“Quiet.”

Going silent, you held back a moan when he went down on your clit. Sucking and flicking over it, you threatened to release a moan with every change of pace. His mouth was talented; it was good for more than delivering lectures and issuing critiques. At this moment, your body warmed with pleasure. It starts low in your belly and radiates outwards. Gripping onto his hair for support, you pulled him in closer to your core. He grinned at this movement, taking it as a signal to push on. He teased and saturated every centimeter of your folds, only pulling away when your gasps were so intense.

With a smirk, he took you in once more. It was the same gaze that he had been giving you in class since last Wednesday. Was it true he was lusting for you as you were for him? Like a mouse caught in his brilliant trap, you whimpered and pleaded for your release. He grinned, pulling away from your center.

“Do you want me inside you…?

“anything….I just need to cum. Please, professor.” you begged.

“Kylo...when we’re alone.”

You nodded, trying his name out for size on your lips, “Kylo...please.”

With an animalistic attack, he planted several heavy kisses along your neck and collarbone. Sucking a mark into the skin where your clavicle met the base of your neck. Marking you as much more than his student, you were unsure of what this meant for your future. Surely there was no way you could stay in class, this is definitely a disruption of the academic dishonesty policy. More than that, you vowed never to do anything of this sort in your own moral code.

There was no resisting Kylo. He was beautiful in a sort of broken, dark and alluring type of way. He had captured your mind with his, grasping you by the heart, and pulled you in.

As he kissed his way from your neck, over your chest, and over the softness of your belly, you met his gaze with yours. There was no way you were coming back from this. He fisted himself, admiring your beauty. He found you equally as ravishing as you found him. This expression of lust was primal and irresistible. Teacher and student. Slut.

Pulling you back into the moment, Kylo whispered to you, “tell me you’re ready and you want this,” with a feral look in his eyes.

“Please…”

Without another word, he thrust inside you. With a heavy gasp, your body arches into him, head throwing itself back to stare at the ceiling. Processing the immense pleasure you were feeling immediately, every nerve ending was ignited, hair standing up on every inch of your body.

Reaching a hand out to him, grasping onto his shoulder for purchase. Kylo continued thrusting without relent. Knocking over wooden cups of pens, paperclips, and miscellaneous files to the floor. Maybe your essay with a big, fat fifty-five was in that pile. That’s what got you into this situation, anyway. That, and your uncontrollable lust for your own professor.

Breaking you away from your mental tangent, he upped the intensity of his thrusts, a groan to punctuate each one. He continued at this pace until his next warning came.

“Fuck….! You better fucking be close…”He gritted through clenched teeth, hushed breath falling on the shell of your ear.

“I am...but please, Kylo...touch me…”

“Touch you…? Like you deserve it…?”

“Yes…!”

“Maybe if you didn’t fail your assignments, you wouldn’t be begging for my cock!”

“You brought me here!”

“Because you failed.”

In that moment, it all came crashing back down again.You really were just like the other girls, hoping to get even an ounce of sympathy to make yourself feel better and fill the gap in your chest. Gripping your chin roughly, Kylo forced you to look up at him.

“Your thoughts are loud.”

“What?” you looked at him.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve. You beg for approval. You need it.”

Snarling, Kylo released you from his grip.

“You are so capable. On your own.You just need to find it.”

With a long, grinding thrust, brushing his pubic bone against your clit, you feel overwhelmed with pleasure and approval. The very same approval he vowed he wasn’t giving to anyone. And he had just chosen you.

Desperate hands grabbed at any expanse of skin you had access to.

“Cmon, sweet girl, you better cum for me…”

“I will…! I’m so close…”

Grunting, his thrusts fell out of tempo and were now hurried and rushed. Pulling your hips to meet his thrusts, you moaned his name into his ear, falling over the precipice. Kylo finished himself off with a punishing pace, hushing your name at the top of his climax.You smirked back at him, grinning at the effect you had on your professor. With this, you confirmed the feeling was mutual.

After regaining his breath, he pulled his softening cock from you. Stepping back and pulling his now slightly wrinkled slacks back to his waist, buttoning and redoing the belt. You looked back up at him, and slid off his desk. You reached underneath to retrieve your panties from his desk.

“Leave them. They’re mine now.”

“I have to walk all the way across campus. I’m not leaving without them.”

“Yes you are. Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

“Kylo-”

“It’s Professor Ren,” tucking his dress shirt back into his slacks, “this can’t continue.”

“I assumed that. But why did you say…”

“Hush. Get your things and go. You can’t be seen here for much longer.”

“Professor.”

“Make the corrections on your introductory assignment. I’ll take a look at it and give you partial credit. I think you have potential in this department. Fix it. And find your motivation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go.”

Throwing your messenger bag over your shoulder, filing the paper away inside, slipping your flats back on your feet, and pulling your skirt over your ass one more time, you left his office without another glance back at him. Walking across campus, you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for the future of your so-called relationship with Professor Ren. Would the department catch on to him swinging your grade, letting you slip through the cracks of the rigorous curriculum? Would they force you to leave?

You pushed the thoughts from your head, picking up a snack and a cup of tea from the cafe on your way back to your dorm. Tossing your bag on your bed, collecting your thoughts from the last 45 minutes of your life. You decided to spend the night in, order a pizza, and fix your failed assignment. If you focused hard enough on your studies, you could maybe impress Professor Ren. Maybe there is a future for you in the department.

Independent of him? You weren’t so sure.

tagged: @hxldmxdxwn @smokahuntis @obiwkenobi @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @empower-bi-women @jbarnesss

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x reader smut #professor!kylo ren #teacher/student #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren oneshot #star wars fanfic #star wars oneshot #star wars smut #learning distraction #everythinggeeky #college au #sinful sunday

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mybeautifulbeautifuleternal · 4 years

Text

i couldn’t utter it, i couldn’t whisper it (my love for you was silent); iii

Chapter Three - Bad Luck This Family Has

rating: its a gen fic for The Umbrella Academy

words:3.8k

chapter:3/10

First / Previous

warnings: canon typical for tua

AO3

a/n: I blame @sam-writes for pretty much all of this!

Summary: In one world, the young teenager hid when she abruptly found herself pregnant and she gave birth in secret, left the baby on a random doorstep, and never looked back. Unfortunately, this isn’t that world. In this world, Reginald Hargreeves finds her and takes her baby. It doesn’t end well.

Vanya was heading home from practice — still riding the high she got from the successful run from today’s piece. She was crossing the street on her last leg of the journey when the window display from the bookstore caught her attention. It wasn’t the Umbrella Academy Comics - she had seen them all when they first came out — they weren’t all that special really.

No — what had caught her attention was the bright red typewriter sitting above them. It was an idea that had been brewing in her mind for a while — something her therapist had said to her.

And seeing it sit above the stories of her siblings — she decided she was going to do it. She was going to tell the world her story. She wanted to finally be heard.

Charlie was laughing at Zara, a common occurrence nowadays, when the bookstore caught her attention. She paused her walking, allowing Zara to outpace her for a moment before he doubled back.

Vanya’s young face stared back her from a hundred copies of a book — that she apparently wrote.

Charlie stepped inside the store and bought four — she’d drop off ones for her brothers before she went home for the evening to start reading her own.

Charlie ended up throwing the book across her apartment. How dare Vanya write that that that awful crap! She had dug deep into their childhood and had thrown every dirty little secret that the Academy had to the wolves.

The only things that weren’t in her little book were the things that she didn’t know — mission statements and one on one conversations. But all the little tortures from their childhoods — the casual cruelties — were now being read by anyone who picked up a copy of her book.

All of the ways dad used to train them, the ways he’d set them up against each other, the way he was never actually proud of them regardless of the show he’d put on for the cameras…

But how was Vanya to know about any of that…she had never been included enough to know that dad was a massive dick, even to his supposed favorites.

The more that Charlie thought about it, the more she realized she couldn’t actually be mad at her sister. The Academy had almost 10 years of the spotlight but Vanya was always in the shadows. She had no way of actually knowing the damage she was doing.

It didn’t make anything she wrote any better but Charlie knew she’d reserve judgment till after she’d talk to her.

She owed it to her sister — even if they weren’t giving the same courtesy.

She just hoped she could talk some sense into her brothers — they weren’t going to like any of this.

Charlie woke up to the sun streaming across her face from her living room. She had stayed up late waiting for Five — she needed him to catch her up and his plan for the End. It seemed like she fell asleep on her couch waiting for him to come home. She wasn’t surprised — the couch was comfortable and she felt safe with the Green around her.

She stretched on the couch a little more and settled in. She didn’t feel like getting up right away. As she closed her eyes, she angled her body to get some more sunshine, allowing it to warm her to her bones. As she did, she smiled a little. It was a small joke from their childhood — that Charlie could be nourished by the sunlight like her plants were.

Mom had told her she just had poor circulation so she was always a little colder than her siblings. Charlie had solved that issue by staying in the sunshine whenever she could — and when her siblings found it funny, she leaned into it. It was just a small thing but it made her siblings happy. She’d do anything to make them happy.

Eventually, she gave a deep sigh and heaved herself from her spot. She knew she would have a busy day and needed to get a start on it. As she was getting her breakfast ready for the day, she frowned out the window - she didn’t think it was supposed to rain today but the weather forecast had been wrong all week.

As she locked up her apartment, she went down to the main floor to gather some food. If she knew Five at all, he would be running on almost empty and while dad had prepared them to fight in sub-optimal conditions like that — he was now dead and couldn’t control them anymore. She went into the back room and grabbed a backpack from her Homeless Bags, shoving some children’s clothes for Five. She’d never tell him that they came from the kids’ section of the store but they’d be the only ones that would fit.

It was completely ridiculous that he was still running around in the Academy uniforms. Charlie knew that only Luther still kept his — the rest had destroyed them on their way out the door.

She brought the bag back out to the Tree and filled up the empty space with baggies of nuts and some loose apples and carrots. They were Five’s favorite when they were kids and she hoped he hadn’t changed enough that he wouldn’t eat them now.

Finally packed with everything she thought she’d need for a day of dealing with Hargreeves Family Bullshit, Charlie left the Flower Shop to track down Five.

Allison was frowning down at her plate. After her discovery the night before, she and Luther spent most of the night going over the tape again and again and again. She was tired of trying to find ways to either blame Mom for what happened to Dad or to absolve her of her actions.

They had left the security room to find Mom, trying to get some answers about that night.

And Mom couldn’t give them any of the answers they needed. Instead, she was more focused on making them so breakfast - which looked delicious.

“We need a family meeting. We need to decide what to do with Grace.” Luther interrupted her thoughts.

“With Mom.”

Luther sighed but agreed, “with Mom.”

“Well, you can collect our brothers and I’ll gather our sisters.”

“Why do you get the easy job?” Luther was almost whining and Allison didn’t blame him but no way was she going to try to track down their brothers if had a different option.

He shut up quickly at her look.

“I guess I’ll be looking for our brothers. Any suggestions on where to start?”

“Well Five did stay here last night and I think Klaus might have as well. So 2 out of 3?”

He just sighed again. She laughed at him but didn’t offer to go after them herself. She was going to enjoy the time she had with her sisters this morning — much less annoying.

“Do you seriously still not understand the chain of custody? If you touch it, I can’t use it.”

Diego smiled to himself just the smallest bit. As much as he loved helping people, Eudora made his day so much better whenever she appeared — even if it was only to yell at him.

The smile fell off his lips at the sight of the bullet though — that particular kind was manufactured in the 1960s so he was confused why it was in a recent shootout in 2019.

He lifted his hands to show off the gloves he carries with him — Diego didn’t like the Police Academy, but he remembered much of the policies and procedures they had drilled into his head. And he made sure to follow them whenever he was working closely with the police. He didn’t want to ruin Eudora’s career as much as he believed she’d like it so much more doing it his way.

“Let me save you some time running ballistics. These nine-millimeters haven’t been manufactured since 19-”

“1963. Odd, I know. Matching casings were found at a murder scene last night. Ishmael’s Towing.”

Diego followed Eudora as she started to move away from the crime scene, focusing on what she was saying.

“The driver?”

“Found him hanging from the ceiling. Looks like he must have known something after all.”

“It’s a shame nobody told you to go talk to him,” Diego tried not to brag too much but it was hard not to sometimes. He knew that the driver would have important information and he had told her as such — if only they would listen to him occasionally. He smirked at Eudora’s look of irritation.

“In the span of 24 hours, I’ve had attacks in three different places across town. Whatever this is, whoever this is, they’re not slowing down. So, if you really give a shit and you’ve got any fresh ideas, I’m all ears.”

Diego had to give her a fond look at that. He loved her for her heart. She adored the city so much she’d ask him for help — even if he didn’t follow the rules.

“The guy’s kid, in the doughnut shop?”

“I’ve got units tracking the extended family in case anyone goes after him.”

“Well, this place must have surveillance footage.”

“No, it doesn’t exist. The first unit on the scene clocked two shooters fleeing the premises, wearing, get this creepy kids’ masks.” Eudora sounded completely done with the case.

Diego gave a deep sigh. He didn’t know when the city decided to go completely crazy but he was worried. He wondered how much extra time it would take if he added Charlie’s shop and Vanya’s apartment to his route. The rest of his siblings were staying at the Mansion and were protected there but not his sisters. He absentmindedly decided to do a daytime run of the path as he answered Eudora’s non-question.

“This city is really going to shit, huh?”

Five grimaced as he ran the needle through his arm. He couldn’t believe that he let those two get the jump on him like that. He really was getting old if Hazel and Cha-Cha got the better of him. And of course, the only band-aids that were in the house had childish trains on them. Trains! Of all things.

6 more days then he’d be dead or drunk.

He wiped the blood off his wound, dressed once more in the awful Academy uniform, finished packing his back, and opened his window. Normally he’d either Jump or take the front door, but he needed to conserve his energy and that meant no Jumping or aggravating talks with his siblings. He just knew that they’d have a load of stupid questions for him that he didn’t have the time to answer them.

Of course, it was his luck that Klaus was dumps- dumpster diving?!? Why was this his life and why did he want to come back and save his siblings again?

A flash of Luther’s hand outstretched to pull him up; the glint of Diego’s knives killing the men attacking him; the feeling of Allison holding him up when his repeating Jumps left him weak; Klaus’ babbling a comforting background noise; he and Ben curled up in the library together; the flicker of Vanya’s uncertain smile; the sight of raspberries growing up between his bed and the wall when Dad was being stingy with the food as a lesson.

He sighed deeply. He could try lying to himself all that he wanted to but of course, he was going come back for them. They were the only things that kept him going all those years.

He ignored that thought — again — and proceeded to ignore Klaus’ inane muttering as well. Five didn’t have time for him right now.

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…I don’t care.”

“Hey!” Klaus laughed as he moved to the edge of his dumpster, “you know there are easier ways out of the house buddy?”

“This one involved the least amount of talking. Or so I thought.”

“Hey, hey, hey, so…You need any more company today? I could, uh…clear my schedule.”

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just-”

Five rolled his eyes when Klaus slipped and fell back into the trash.

“I just misplaced something. That’s all,” Klaus’ voice echoed out from the dumpster. “Oh! Found it! Thank God!”

Five grimaced slightly as he watched Klaus take a bite of a half-eaten bagel. He was completely certain that that bagel wasn’t Klaus’. He couldn’t say too much, however. He’d eaten much worse in the apocalypse.

He had saved Charlie’s food for as long as he could — her fruits and vegetables always lasted longer than normal — but eventually, he finished them and had to struggle to find food.

Now, though? Klaus had the option to not eat that but decided to do so anyway.

“Delicious.”

“I’m done funding your drug habit.”

With that, he turned and walked away. He didn’t need Klaus for what he had planned for today and he knew that Klaus had the singular habit of extending conversations to longer then they needed to be.

As he walked down the alley, he spotted a large van parked at the end. That was exactly what he needed.

He thought about picking Charlie up as he started the engine and made his way out of the alley — he wanted some intelligent conversation and maybe a second set of eyes.

Klaus ignored Ben’s judgmental stare boring a hole in the side of his head as he spat out the bite of bagel he’d taken. He’d had enough of that through the years that it was second nature.

What wasn’t second nature was ignoring the peach growing into existence right in front of him.

He beamed though! Only one person could do that and right now she was his favorite sibling. He turned and spotted her coming down the alley from the opposite direction cranky Five had left in.

“Schwester! Beloved Charlie, you’ve blessed me with a delicious peach but do you think I could get some apples as well? I’ve been having the craziest cravings for them lately and-”

His sentence was cut off when Charlie, the darling dear, grew some apples and shoved one in his mouth. He just took a bite from it, chewed, and swallowed. He may not have been the smartest of the bunch but he knew better than to anger Charlie girl. He remembered Spring of ‘03. Plus he wasn’t going to waste an apple. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was really craving one. He packed up all the newly grown fruit and stored it away in his various pockets. He wasn’t going to waste any of the food that she grew — she had a talent for it, after all the practice she had when they were young.

As he was chewing, he flapped his ‘hello’ hand at her and felt warm when she repeated the gesture.

“As much as I love you dear schwester, I can probably guess you’re looking for snarky little Five?”

When she nodded, Ben’s comment of “why isn’t she actually talking? I haven’t heard a word from her yet,” was only barely heard as he gave Charlie directions on where their smallest brother left to.

When she left to follow Five, she first leaned over and gave him a faint kiss on the cheek.

What a treasure she was. He finished up the apple and turned to continue his dumpster dive.

He had to find that stupid book.

Five made it to the end of the next block before the passenger side door was opened and a bag was tossed at him. He had spotted Charlie’s distinctive hair when he glanced right earlier so he was too worried about what was in the bag but he still winced a little when it hit him. He reached into the bag as he made a right turn and laughed a little when he grabbed an apple. He shot Charlie a glance and a small smile, which she returned before he focused again on the road. He wasn’t going to try having a conversation with her until he could give her his full attention.

As he pulled up across from Meritech, he sat back a little in his seat and fully opened up the backpack. It was stuffed full of easy to eat food that Charlie had Grown for him as well as a change of clothing in his size.

“Trying to tell me something?”

Just that you look like an idiot roaming about in that stupid Academy uniform.

“Well tell me what you really think, then.”

Tell me what to watch for and go change in the back.

He made sure she could see him roll his eyes but started to tell her about Meritech and everything he had managed to find out about it yesterday. He was startled when he heard a croaking sound come from the front seat. His head popped out of the pullover and glanced at his sister. She was laughing. Huh. He finished changing, glad to be out of the uniform, ignoring the warm feeling that was growing in his chest.

They spent a couple of minutes catching each other up on what happened since he left her at the Academy when he left with Klaus before Charlie shifted to look fully at him. He gave her his attention and waited for what she had to say.

I’m gonna head home. There’s a couple of paperwork things that popped up yesterday that I need to deal with, then I might make my way back here or to the Academy. I have a feeling that the house is going to be the center for everything this week. Make sure you eat everything I packed for you, ok?

“You know I’m older than you right? Like decades older than you?”

Like that’s gonna stop me.

She reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze that he reciprocated before she left the van.

Five watched her walk away for a while before he once again focused on his mission. He would only admit it to himself but damn was he glad to be home.

Vanya didn’t really know what she was doing here — visiting Leonard at his store. Being with Leonard at all really. But as she gazed around at all the beautiful wood carvings, she gave a slight smile. They really were gorgeous. She took a closer look at the smaller figurines he had placed on the shelves.

One of them took her back to her childhood. It was a small bench with some flowers placed at the base of it — it was nothing too special but it reminded her strongly of some of the happiest days she could remember.

Charlie was always found outside, whenever she had the chance. Mom had even joked sometimes that Charlie was more plant-like then they thought — that she could gain her energy from the sun in the same way her beloved plants could. The seven of them laughed at that a little but it was true. She was at her happiest when she was outside surrounded by the Green she grew and the sun that nourished them.

The one memory Vanya was thinking of though — it was all of them outside. They were probably thirteen years old and Dad was away on a business trip — he’d even taken Pogo with him so it was just the eight kids and Mom. They had free run of the house and light schooling, no training to speak of. That particular day, Vanya remembered, it was blue skies and sunshine. It was special because the rest of the week it had been pouring buckets — they had been stuck inside and left to entertain themselves with what they could find in the various corners and cracks that the mansion had. But that day; the sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and the birds were singing. Mom had let them sleep in and had agreed to allow them to eat outside for both lunch and dinner.

And during the afternoon, Charlie had Grown the most beautiful garden the rest of them had ever seen. There were flowers bigger than her head with colors she didn’t think possible. And the smells! Oh, every next step brought a new smell and they were all glorious. Charlie had Grown the various flowers into amazing shapes and structures but Vanya’s favorite were the benches found right in the middle of the garden. Created from some sort of vines and trees, there were four of them big enough for three people each. Charlie had also grown their favorite fruits and veggies, even branching into nuts, all over the backs of the benches so they could snack as much as they wanted too.

As much as Mom loved them, she had a strict order to not feed them too much. But with Dad and Pogo gone, Mom had taken to turning the other way so she never saw it when Charlie Grew them more and more treats to eat.

The eight of them had laughed and played and joked with each other all day, showing off their powers — they’d even convinced her to bring down her violin to play for them. Vanya knew she wasn’t very good yet, not at that age and only having been playing for a couple of months but when she played that afternoon…she was on top of the world. It was the best concert she’d ever given and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to top it.

They had fallen asleep outside that night, under the stars with blankets made of grass, curled up together.

It was one of Vanya’s most cherished memories — she didn’t even place it in her book; she didn’t want anybody to be able to ruin it.

And one little wood carving managed to bring back that sense of happiness and contentedness that had been missing from her life — only weeks later Five disappeared and the home felt a little more like a house.

She left Leonard’s shop that day with the little violin player and the garden bench.

#the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #tua #m's fics #my stuff #hargreeves children #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #charlie hargreeves #i couldn’t utter it

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flipmeforward · 4 years

Text

what a man gotta do (dex/nursey, R)

so ... hi. i wrote check please! fanfic. here it is. ao3.

The one and only redeeming factor about morning practice, in Derek’s opinion, is that it leaves the evening free. This is generally always a good thing, but since he and Dex started dating, it’s a very good thing. It’s hard to do things like go out to dinner if you have to do it in the morning, because you have to be at practice all evening.

Also sex. Sex is better in the evening than in the morning, mostly because Derek isn’t a morning person and he prefers to be awake during sex. Especially sex with Dex because … Dex.

Derek groans and throws his pen down on the notebook. He checks his phone, the lock screen is still empty.

One of the many, many bad things about morning practice, is that it also leaves Dex (and sure, in theory, also Derek) free to do other things in the evenings. Things that don't include Derek. Things that sometimes don't even include Chowder, which, what? Tonight though, it’s just a study session with Chowder. Derek had been invited, but he has reading and writing assignments, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate if he spent the evening with Dex. Derek isn’t exactly proud of the effect Dex’s presence has on him, but at least he owns up to it. That makes the chirps a little easier to bear, and so far it hasn’t affected their work on the ice, so things could definitely be worse.

That doesn’t make up for the fact that Derek is missing his boyfriend, though. He groans again and puts his forehead on his desk. He’s pathetic. They’d seen each other a few hours ago, at lunch, and they’ll see each other tomorrow, this is the antithesis of chill. He has an image to uphold, yes, even in his empty dorm room, and he’s doing a bad job at it. Pathetic.

It really doesn’t help that Dex had looked so good this morning. Outside of Faber, with the sun catching his eyes in a way that just did things to Derek’s inside, an embarrassed smile on his face because Derek had told him about it. In the dining hall during lunch, when Dex had been in a heated discussion with Chowder about … something, Derek didn’t know, didn’t care, he’d been busy staring at Dex’s face, then smirking when Dex noticed and blushed.

In his room, Derek lowers a hand down in his lap and palms himself through his pajama pants. He doesn’t mind jerking off, he has a healthy sex drive and knows what he likes, he can get by with his right hand. But he doesn’t want to get by with his right hand today, or his left for that matter. He wants Dex. He knows that if he texts, Dex will come over, despite not having planned to, which is one of the reasons Derek doesn’t text him. He can be a lot, he knows that, he usually falls easily, and hard. More than one past relationship has failed because he’s been too on, too much, too soon, which, no lie, is one of the reasons for his very laid back chill attitude now. It isn’t fake, but there’s a lot of work behind it.

Derek really doesn’t want to scare Dex away by being too on, too much, too soon. He tries to pace himself, and part of that is letting Dex do his thing, have study sessions with Chowder without Derek joining, or texting, or anything.

His phone buzzes, but when he looks over, it’s just a group text about pie. Derek sighs and drops his hand. Maybe he should just go to bed.

Pathetic.

And then, someone tries to open his door. Derek jerks upright at the sound, but dismisses it as someone just walking by and being a dick. Until there’s a knock, and then Dex’s voice.

“Nursery?”

Derek’s out of his chair and in front of the door before he’s done processing that Dex is there. He unlocks and opens the door and yup, Dex is there, Derek’s ears didn’t play a cruel joke on him.

“You owe Chowder coffee,” is Dex’s way of greeting before he walks in and shuts the door behind him, dropping his backpack on the floor.

“Uhm. Okay?” Derek says, staring at him. Dex nods, once, then takes a step forward and pulls Derek into a kiss. Derek makes a muffled noise of surprise, but quickly catches on and kisses back. It isn’t a gentle greeting kiss, Dex is devouring him. Derek is very much not complaining. He puts his hands on Dex’s waist and presses him even closer, before pulling his mouth away to breathe.

“Hey,” he says, fumbling to get his hands in under Dex’s jacket and shirt and touch his skin. Dex kisses his neck instead and Derek’s breath stutters. “I thought—I thought you were gonna study,” he gets out. The tip of Dex’s nose grazes the sensitive spot on Derek’s neck and his toes curls, the grip of his hands tightening. He feels Dex’s smile against his skin.

“I sort of. Couldn’t concentrate,” Dex says, not moving his face from where it’s pressed against Derek’s shoulder. He runs his hands down Derek’s back, settling on his ass and pressing their crotches together. Derek’s still half-hard and rapidly reaching full hardness, and apparently, Dex is also getting there.

“Jesus,” Derek mumbles, but whatever else he was going to say is cut off when Dex starts pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his knees hit the bed frame he sits down, and Dex quickly sits down on top of him, straddling his legs and grabbing his face to kiss him again. Derek moans, can’t help himself, and puts his hands back on Dex’s waist. Dex starts to wrestle off his jacked, and when he’s thrown it on the floor he reaches down to grab the hem of Derek’s t-shirt. Derek grabs his hands to stop him.

“Dex. Pointdexter. Will,” he says, breathing hard. “What’s going on?”

Dex presses down on Derek’s dick, smiling when Derek’s breath catches in his throat.

“I just. I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Dex says. “You. During lunch. And then I saw you on the quad.” Dex grinds down again. “You’re so fucking hot, I just want to—“ Derek cuts him off with another kiss.

“You think I’m so hot you just needed to come over here and fuck me, huh?” he says, not a small amount of glee in his voice. “Fucking same, Dex, Jesus Christ.” He crashes their mouths together again and starts to help Dex to take off his shirt. When it’s off, Dex pushes him down flat on the bed and starts to take off his own clothes. Meanwhile, Derek raises his hips and pulls off his pajama pants, leaving him in his boxers. Dex is also down to his underwear and takes a moment to let his eyes span the whole length of Derek’s body. Then he sinks down on his knees on the bed and straddles Derek again. He bends down to kiss him again, a little more gentle this time.

Derek’s hands find their way to Dex’s ass and he grabs it, pressing him down as he forces his own hips up. Dex groans, going with the motion and repeating it.

“What do you want?” Derek asks. He can’t help himself, he loves watching Dex squirm as he tries to avoid having to say what he wants out loud. True to form, Dex buries his face in Derek’s neck, trying to get away by sucking on that spot again. Derek shudders, and he feels Dex’s smile against his skin. Okay, fine, Derek knows a few tricks as well. He slides his hands under the elastic of Dex’s underwear and digs his nails into the meat of his ass. Dex gasps, and Derek grins.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeats. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about all day.”

Dex groans, with frustration this time, then rises up on his elbows. He takes a deep breath.

“I wanna suck you off,” he says, staring straight into Derek’s eyes. And Jesus fuck if that doesn’t do things to Derek’s body that has him almost tethering on the edge.

“Fuck, babe, yeah, yes, God,” he gasps, not even caring that Dex is smirking down at him.

“Yeah?” he says, pride in his voice.

“Dex, I will never say no to that, and if I do, you have permission to bury me, because it means I’m dead.”

Dex blinks. “Understood,” he says, and presses a kiss to Derek’s mouth before he starts crawling down the bed.

Two hockey players in a twin bed doesn’t make for the most comfortable setup, but Derek slides up the bed as far as he can to give Dex more space between his legs. It’s not exactly their first time, and neither of them has fallen off the bed in the past couple of weeks at least.

Dex mouths at his cock through the fabric of his underwear, and Derek stops thinking. His hands find their way to Dex’s head, tangles his fingers into fiery red hair and tugs, just a little bit. Dex groans against him, then makes quick work of removing his boxers altogether. He takes Derek’s leaking cock into his mouth and Derek moans, loudly. Someone bangs the wall next to his bed but Derek has never cared less about anything in his life. He tugs on Dex’s hair again and Dex moans around his dick. He’s so good at this, Derek’s almost jealous of himself that he gets to have Dex as his boyfriend, and he’s still getting better, each time. He almost, almost wishes Dex wasn’t this good, because he wants to stay like this for hours. Dex swallows around him and no, okay, Derek does not want to stay like this for hours, he wants to come.

“Dex, come on,” he urges, trying hard not to jerk his hips up. That’s one thing Dex doesn’t handle well, so Derek does his best. His urging has the desired effect, at least, Dex moves one of his hands down, his fingers grazing the soft skin behind Derek’s balls and then rubbing gently over his hole. They haven’t had proper intercourse yet; Dex has been sort of hesitant and Derek hasn’t been in any rush, but they are very much doing this after Derek has both told and shown Dex what he likes.

“Babe, please,” Derek moans. Dex presses one finger inside, it’s dry and not without a little bit of pain, but Derek loves it, wants it. He gives up another loud moan, and the guy next door bangs on the wall again. Dex can’t help but laugh around Derek’s dick, and Derek groans, throws his head back and puts his arm over his eyes.

“You need to make me come before they fucking barge in here,” he mutters, then glances down at Dex, wipes some drool away from the corner of his mouth. “God, you’re so fucking good at this, come on, I wanna get my hands on you.”

That spurs Dex on, makes him go back down with renewed energy, sucking hard. Derek thinks that maybe he should be embarrassed about how quickly he reaches the edge once Dex really puts his heart into it, but he doesn’t, he isn’t, he just—

“Dex, Dexy,” he gasps, tugging Dex’s hair again, a warning this time. Dex eases up a little but doesn't pull away. With the hand not busy on Derek’s ass, he grabs Derek’s cock, jerking the part he no longer covers with his mouth. It only takes a couple of strokes before Derek’s spilling into his mouth, groaning as the tension leaves his body.

“Jesus,” he breathes. He looks down as Dex sits up and wipes his mouth, grinning at him. Derek meets his eyes and smiles, then lets his gaze wander down to where Dex’s boxers are tented. “Jesus,” he breathes again, but with a completely different tone. “Come here, babe,” he says, making grabby hands and grinning when Dex crawls up and lies down on top of him. Derek strokes his hands up Dex’s arms to his face and pulls him down for a kiss. As he licks the taste of himself out of Dex’s mouth, Dex presses his own erection against Derek’s thigh.

“Nursey,” Dex mumbles, then kisses him again.

“Yeah?” Derek replies, dragging his hands down to grab Dex’s ass again.

“Fuck, just, touch me,” Dex begs, grinding down. Derek smiles against his mouth and slides his hand in between them, stroking his thumb along Dex’s hard cock. He expects it to take a few strokes, some kisses below Dex’s ear, but when he drags his thumb down again, Dex shudders against him and Derek feels the warm, sticky pulses of come coat his hand and his thigh.

Derek groans into Dex’s mouth and wraps his legs around him, kissing him fiercely. “You’re going to kill me,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to calm his own dick, which is very, very interested in the fact that Dex just came, basically untouched.

“Congrats, dude, now shut the fuck up,” comes a muffled shout from the other side of the wall, followed by a bang.

“Chill dude,” Derek yells back, while Dex collapses with silent laughter on top of him. Derek pulls his hand out from between them and wipes it on Dex’s ass, silencing the protests with a kiss.

They lie in silence for a minute or two, catching their breaths, before Dex stands up, takes off his messy underwear and grabs the wet wipes from Derek’s nightstand. He pulls out two, then throws the pack at Derek.

“Are you staying?” Derek asks, wiping off the sticky mess from his hands and thigh.

Dex throws his wipes away and glances at the bed. He frowns, and Derek can sense him thinking it over. The two of them in that cramped bed rarely results in quality sleep for any of them, but Derek really doesn’t want Dex to leave right now. “Please,” he adds, and throws in a pout.

Dex rolls his eyes and kneels on the bed again. “It’ll be your fault if I fall asleep in my CS lab,” he says.

“Chill,” Derek says and wraps his arms around Dex’s waist. “I can live with that.”

Free evenings truly is the only redeeming factor about morning practice, but oh what a redeeming factor it is.

#omgcp fic #check please fic #nurseydex #dex x nursey #dexnursey

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