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chateautae · 3 years

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flirt | pjm. (m)

➵ summary : park jimin is a notorious flirt, but so are you. when you both meet at a party after weeks of back and forth, it’s a matter of time before somebody gives in

➵ pairing : jimin x reader

➵ genre : college!au, sexual tension, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 4k

➵ warnings : super suggestive flirting, alcohol consumption (both parties able to consent), swearing, light dom and sub themes, soft dom!jimin, brat!reader, little bit of brat-handling, dirty talk, praising but also degradation? it’s hot i promise, use of slut, slight body worshipping, mentions of oral, jimin is hot and yes that’s a warning in itself, breast play, unprotected sex, penetrative + rough sex, bit of angsty sex, creampie cause i seem to not like it any other way

➵ a/n : and my first jimin fic is here!! dear god i love this boy to the moon and back so i got a bit carried with him lmao, hopefully this isn’t terrible cause i still need to edit it but your support and feedback are always appreciated!! <3

2 hours.

2 hours since you first came to this party. You’ve bumped into at least a hundred people, danced your legs numb, God knew how many and what concoction of drinks were inebriating your system and still, you hadn’t seen Park Jimin the whole night.

The only reason you even dragged yourself to this party was because of him. You were initially bailing on the annual ‘one-last-hurrah-before-midterms’ party because you, like everyone else here had midterms haunting them Monday. It was Friday night and as the ever diligent student, you were planning to study over the weekend.

Though your nagging best friend Hoseok had other plans, threatening you to come with every piece of dirt he had on you until he finally sprinkled Jimin’s name into the mix. You couldn’t lie, it was the only reason you decided to hell with your education, wiggled into a barely-there dress and waltzed in with Hoseok ready to take the night on.

But when you hadn’t seen Jimin at all, you were left annoyed, pissed off and with a headache raking your brain.

Seeing him was a selfish desire, one you’d develop after realizing you had met your match when you first encountered Jimin. You were always fairly notorious for your flirtatious habits and touchiness, a sort of trademark of yours and the same was always said about a ‘Park Jimin’ unknown to you, sometimes described to be an even bigger flirt.

It automatically intrigued you, curious of what kind of rival you secretly harbored until one day, you chanced upon Hoseok who just so happened to be with Jimin.

At first, you didn't think Jimin could be a daring flirt. He had this sweet smile and disciplined way of speaking that screamed innocent to you, his mannerisms and demeanor shy and introverted. He didn’t make big moves and so you wrote him off as just that.

But it wasn’t until you started seeing him outside your class’ building, alone, and multiple times after that, enough for you to realize he was anything but shy or innocent.

You ended up observing that a) he was sex on legs, b) easily flipped between the persona of an angel and a demon and c) anything he did could seem flirting.

You two hit it off without a hitch, your flirtatious tendencies meeting to form a relationship of mutual interest. It was clear as day, both your actions almost always held some sort of unknown intentions behind them, your every saying a double meaning.

It became the norm between you two, anytime you met turning into a conversation riddled with innuendos, suggestive lip-biting or eyes that couldn’t help but wander. And you weren't stupid, you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You two were dangerous, testing the limits of either’s control, hoping someone would give in and only left disappointed when nobody did.

So when Hoseok mentioned this party, and graciously added Park Jimin’s name to it, you knew this was your chance. A party with buzzing bodies, loud music and copious amounts of alcohol was bound to set him off, especially if you were dressed scandalously and felt bolder with liquid courage pumping through your system.

But it’d been 2 hours, and you hadn’t seen him all night. You were taking another shot in the kitchen, sulking by yourself and reflecting on the fact that you’d been duped by Hoseok. This party became useless to you, a mere waste of your time as you quickly discarded your cup and began stomping out of the kitchen.

You ventured further into the house to look for Hoseok’s 5’10 ass, tell him he’s the worst best friend for lying to you and that you were leaving this disappointment of a party.

You stepped around people mindfully, dodging them until you rammed smack dab into someone’s back, scrambling for an apology before looking at the unaffected victim.

Park fucking Jimin.

“Y/N!” Jimin beamed, holding a drink in his hand as he smiled widely.

“Jimin, hey! I thought you didn’t come tonight.” You attempted biting back your smile from finally finding him, shouting over the bass of the music as you met him on the dance floor.

“I just ran late. You know me, of course I’d be here!” Jimin raised his drink to his plump lips and sipped, stepping side-to-side in rhythm with the music.

You couldn’t make him out that well, the disco lights of whatever lights system the only means of seeing him in the dark, but you swear the smirky grin on his face as he scanned you over wasn’t just a figment of your imagination, ecstatic that you already seemed to be reeling him in. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I already had-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as someone’s raging body stumbled into yours suddenly, sending you off balance until Jimin reached out for you cautiously.

“Woah, easy there.” Jimin’s arms quickly held you, flashing a scolding look at the person who bumped into you and pulling you towards himself. “Are you here with someone tonight?”

“Yeah, Hoseok! I was looking for him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I.. wasn’t having fun, so I wanted to leave with him.” You swiftly masked the real truth, your voice becoming less of a shout as Jimin encased you, just a few centimeters between your bodies as you peered up at him, cheeks flushed with heat and alcohol.

“Leave with him? Damn, didn’t know you two were like that.” Jimin flashed you a suggestive look, raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up, you know we’re just best friends.” You both erupted into a fit of chuckles as you hit his chest, your hand smacking against his jacket and now that you were close, registered what a meal he looked like tonight; ripped black jeans, plain white t-shirt underneath a distressed jean jacket, all pulled together sexily by his tousled hair, small hoop earrings and a Chanel necklace decorating his neck.

Dear God, how many times you’ve ached to kiss that pretty, pretty neck.

You internally groaned, habitually drawing closer to him as you enjoyed the warmth of his body, nostrils filling with the familiar scent of his intoxicating cologne.

“So I hear you wanna have some fun.” Jimin perked up, eyes amused and hands smoothing over your sides slowly after faltering from your arms.

“Are you suggesting I’ll have fun with you?”

“Of course, gorgeous, but up to you how we do that.” Jimin stepped dangerously closer to you as his voice lowered, your face tucked into his chest as his body blocked other people from touching you.

Excitement shot to your center at his use of a pet name, a common occurrence during your exchanges though his choices of which always an added thrill.

“And what if I just want to leave and eat at a diner instead?”

“Then I’d definitely take you, food and you? A win in my book.”

You cocked an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Adding me to the mix suddenly makes it a win? I’m not the one on the menu, Park.”

Jimin’s eyes seem to blow out, leaning down as his plushy lips ghosted your ear as he spoke, tone darkened, “We can change that, princess.”

A thrill shot throughout your body, hyper aware of his lips mere inches from your face as your heart began to race, turning towards him expectantly.

You began advancing slowly to decrease the gap between your mouths, feeling him inch forward in response, letting him hover just above your lips for a tease before you stopped, “I’d like to see you try, Park.”

Then you abruptly turned out of his hold and walked away, making it through a few people into a hallway, allowing yourself to breathe. You loved teasing Jimin, it was an incredibly entertaining pass time but dear God, did it knock the fucking wind out of you.

You were mentally recuperating from the fact that he almost let you kiss him, distracted as you stepped away until someone suddenly snatched your arm and pinned you against the nearest wall. You were honestly shocked to see Jimin, surprised he actually took your bait and stayed on your trail to stop you. His dancing eyes held nothing but greed, evident even in the darkness of the party.

“You know just how to test people, don’t you?” Jimin warned as he narrowed his dangerous eyes at you, holding your hot-skinned wrists against the cool wall.

“Of course I do, it makes things fun and last time I checked,” You brought your face to his and left only an inch between you two, “that’s just what I want.”

Jimin visibly grew less tamed, glancing down towards your lips as he tried breathing controllably, “Careful what you wish for, princess. It might come true.”

“And if that’s what I want?” You titled your head expectantly, licking your lips as you watched Jimin bite his own. He eyed you the whole time, making it a statement to drink you in every inch of you.

You could smell the alcohol on him, assuming liquor was the only driving force behind his actions but then contemplated his level-headedness, his coherent speech and clear judgment in this moment.

Jimin was choosing to chase after you, choosing to not let you go after weeks of incessant back and fourth and you knew you were finally getting closer to exactly what you wanted.

Park Jimin giving in.

“You’re fucking hot.” Jimin commented, eyes eating you up hungrily.

“You’re hotter.” You grinned and leaned back against the wall, cleavage unintentionally popping out for him and Jimin’s look immediately shifted, bringing his body closer against yours.

“You look submissive as hell right now, is that what you like? To be dominated?”

“Only if you like to dominate.”

Jimin could feel the reigns on his control snapping, biting down to contain his raw desire to fuck you. He’s been holding himself back, knowing you seemed willing on your end of the interactions but never wanting to take the leap in case it was all just an act.

But as he watched you go along with his every comment, staring back at him with the same devious eyes and practically offering yourself to him in his hold, he knew you weren’t acting at all.

“You talk a big game, but can you put your money where your mouth is?” Jimin leaned his hips against yours, ensuring you could feel his growing hardness.

“My mouth can do a lot of fucking things, Park.” You jutted your hips into his.

Jimin shut his eyes frustratedly before he re-opened them, a downright obsidian colour taking them over.

“Go the fuck upstairs.”

“Wh-”

“I said, go the fuck upstairs.” Jimin demanded, looking at you with conviction so searing you in fact did become submissive.

“W-which room-” You didn’t complete your question as Jimin’s deft hands encased you and lifted you off the ground, bridal-style.

“Jimin-!” You exclaimed.

“Say another word and I’ll make sure you feel me in your throat.”

You immediately swallowed your mouth shut as Jimin cluthed you to him, core alighting with desire as he carried you up the stairs. Jimin arrived at the second floor and rushed towards the first room with an ajar door, shutting it with your feet after entering.

He made towards the bed and practically threw you onto it, stepping away to lock the door before leaning against it, arms crossed and serious.

“You sure you want this?” His voice came out considerate, no haste or pressure.

“Yes, Jimin.”

“You’re completely sure?”

You nodded incessantly.

“I need your words, Y/N.”

“Yes.” You affirmed, unintentionally becoming submissive as you awaited him, and Jimin couldn't resist you, not any longer. He made towards your smaller figure on the bed and immediately crashed his lips onto yours, knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned over you, splaying you onto the bed.

He held your wrists against the sheets, kissing you open as his plump lips worked tirelessly against your mouth. He continued to swallow you, opening up to catch all of you as he sank further downwards to feel your body arch into his.

His wet tongue glided over your lips and you welcomed him in lightspeed, letting his muscle entangle with yours hastily and you instantly loved the taste of him.

Jimin’s kisses began deepening, exploring your mouth like he was dehydrated and your mouth was fresh water. His thigh began pressing against your core and you moaned into his mouth as Jimin disconnected from you, panting for air.

“Don’t fucking do that.” He voiced frustratedly, his full lips swollen and pink as he tried to contain himself.

“Do what?”

“Fucking moan, it does shit to me.”

“Sucks for you, I’m responsive as fuck.” You snipped as his sudden confession made you hot, squishing your thighs together. Jimin took notice and he flashed a look at your core.

“Responsive, huh?” Jimin let go of your wrist, sliding his hand down your body before pressing his fingers to your heat through your dress. You instantly gasped, arching as you felt your walls clench around absolutely nothing.

“J-Jimin.” you warned him weakly.

“Mm?” Jimin paid no attention as he lowered himself to your neck and began kissing, tonguing, sucking at a spot that had you cowering and squirming underneath him.

You groaned as your free hand tangled into his hair, hugging him to your neck as you basked in the glory of his plush lips devouring you. He was laving and nibbling at your skin, continuously kissing the area of your carotid all while rubbing his hand against your clothed cunt. Jimin began rutting his body against yours, the tip of his cock prodding you the more he moved.

“Fuck you, Jimin. This isn’t fair.” You moaned breathlessly

“As fair as it gets, princess. You wanted to see my try, yeah?” Jimin suddenly stopped his movements on your core and slid his hand up your bare thigh, only to shift your stained panties to the side and glide his fingers all over your bare pussy. You gasped Jimin’s name and tugged at his hair harshly, the alcohol hazing everything over with sensitivity and trying to sustain the sheer amount of pleasure he was rewarding you.

“N-nothing’s fair about this.”

Jimin smoothed the pads of his fingers over your slick core, eliciting your incessant gasps, “Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.”

He was leaving purple marks all along your neck and chest, moving down to the valley of your breasts and you whined headily, hating that he had such an advantage in this position.

You immediately grew bold enough to push him off by his chest, detaching him as Jimin looked at you confused. “Y/N, what the fu-” was all Jimin could get out before you stood up and gripped his cock through his pants, his breath immediately hitching. He looked at you with surprised eyes, growing weaker in your hold as you walked him back against a vanity in the room.

You had no clue who this room belonged to, but you could care less when you were minutes away from getting fucked by Park Jimin.

He let out breathy little moans as you palmed him, shutting his eyes in bliss as he turned harder by the second, leaning back against the counter. You planted your lips to his neck and mouthed fervently, making sure you embellished his skin with your desire for him. “F-fuck. Y/N, this isn’t fair.”

“Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” You mocked him and began rubbing at his shaft, sucking hickies onto his pretty neck and licking over the areas your teeth grazed. Jimin continued groaning, hugging you close to him as he fisted his hands against your body, trying everything to cherish the pleasure he felt.

The person he’s been desiring ever since he heard about you, his every nerve thrilled by your ability to counter him, match his energy of constant flirting and testing the waters, venturing further than him sometimes.

You were just so tempting and Jimin wanted every last bit of you.

That sentiment increased when he felt your hands snake towards the belt of his jeans, unbuckling harshly with need so apparent he wanted nothing but to stuff your walls, now.

“No, fuck off, getting inside you first.” Jimin denied your hands, capturing them in his hold.

You instantly whined, “But Jimin, want you to fuck my face.” You pouted into his neck, kissing along his collar bones as you rutted against him.

“Fucking God, I’m destroying you for that.” Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and switched the positions, shoving you against the vanity, your ass on the edge of the counter as Jimin stood in between your spread out legs, lips meeting yours again.

Jimin lifted the skirt of your dress up and over your backside, pooling around your waist as his hands slid over your fleshy thighs to the band of your panties. He pulled only to snap them back against your skin, the contact making you gasp.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing these?”

“And why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?” You chastised, hands greedily shoving his jacket off him even with your mouth attached to his.

Jimin didn’t allow the action to compromise your kiss either, practically ripping his jacket off and breathing hard against you as he threw it away. He then pulled his t-shirt over himself, revealing his toned, lean body underneath and only leaving his Chanel necklace hanging over his bare chest. You licked your lips at the sight of his smooth and pretty body, the outline of his abs like a work of art.

You reached out to touch him, his face and skin flushed with lust as he watched you. “You’re so hot, Jimin, so pretty.” You praised, eyes ogling him.

Jimin smirked proudly before speaking, “Your turn.”

He searched for the zipper of your dress and unzipped hastily, peeling away the top to reveal your naked breasts and now it was his turn to ogle at you.

“Fuck me, you’re prettier.” He huffed out, eyes blown out entirely.

“Probably not as pretty as your cock, let me suck.” You pouted playfully and pulled him closer to you with the back of your shins, hands greedily feeling up his bare chest.

“Only good girls get to suck my dick.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you’re a fucking brat and a half.” Jimin started kneading your breasts, licking his lips as he watched you spread your legs wider for him and lean your head back out of pure bliss.

“I am not a brat, you just fucking take 10 years to get it on.” You snapped back, moaning in between at the way he groped your breasts, rolling the buds of your nipples with his fingertips.

“Sorry I was a fucking gentleman, didn’t know you were such a cock-hungry slut.” Jimin bit as he planted his thick lips to your perched nipple, eliciting curses from you as his tongue began swirling around, sucking teasingly.

“You just can’t fuck, isn’t it? All bark and no bite?”

Jimin scoffed darkly at that, sucking harder on your sensitive nipples before letting go with a pop. “I’ll fucking break you is why I kept holding off, you’ll regret this, princess.”

“Break me then, Jimin, please. Fuck me like you say you will, I need you.” Your arousal became unbearable as you grew hornier, rocking your hips against him for friction while he laved at either of your nipples.

“I will, baby. Get these off and I’ll fuck you so good.” Jimin tugged at your panties and you lifted your ass for him to discard them.

You unhooked Jimin’s belt and shoved into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans down until you finally freed his leaking length, thick and throbbing to be treated.

What you always thought was right, his cock was pretty just like him. You graciously pumped him, spreading his pre-cum over the head as you watched him lean his head back, kissing under his jaw.

“So pretty, Jimin, just like you.”

Jimin stopped caring about any and everything and instantly grabbed one of your legs, spreading you wide open for him and situated himself before your entrance.

He brought a hand over yours pumping his member and moved you quicker against his hot flesh, looking down at the lewd scene and your pretty pussy aching for him.

“Look at you soaking, baby, so much prettier.”

You moaned needily, the back of your shins urging Jimin closer to you again as you whined. “Jimin..”

“Raw?” he breathed impatiently.

“Fuck yes, birth control.”

Jimin didn’t even take a millisecond before he was pushing against your hole, placing the hand that was pumping his member now against your pelvic bone, pressing down to feel himself sink inside of you.

You instantly careened, moaning out so loud that if there wasn’t music blaring in the house, everyone would know how stuffed Jimin made you feel.

“Fuck-Jimin! Stop doing that, it feels too fucking good..!” You nearly cried, the pressure of Jimin’s hand making you feel any and every ridge, vein and hardness of his thick cock, your walls drinking him in.

“Fuck you, this is what you get.” Jimin blurted as he buried himself to the hilt, groaning satisfyingly at your warm walls hugging him before plunging to make out with you.

Jimin began fucking you with conviction, determination to drive you insane for him as he spread you open. He thrusted fast and hard from the get-go, neglecting to set a pace knowing how much of a cock-loving brat you were. His thumb resting just above your clit dipped down to lightly play with your bud, tease it, all the while licking into your mouth and thrusting into you.

You gasped hard, so much that Jimin’s name was the only thing coherent within them and he swallowed all your sounds with his lips. Your body was on fire at the drag of his cock, shocked at how wet you were when he hadn’t even fingered or eaten you out, his cock doing all the work, leaving you only thinking of Park Jimin’s sheer power.

You wanted all of him so badly, wanted him to ruin you, destroy you like he said he would, fuck you open like he always insinuated he would.

“Jimin, please, harder! Fuck me like the brat I am, teach me a fucking lesson.”

“Princess likes it hard, huh? Want me to fuck this pussy up? Make it all mine?” Jimin’s words were so filthy they had you clutching onto him tightly, arousal gushing from you as Jimin impaled you harder, snapping into you.

His thumb continued its onslaught, your walls convulsing to his every stroke as you gripped his shoulders and kissed him, biting his plushy bottom lip as he fucked you harder.

“Mm, Jimin, fuck!” Your tits bounced as he pounded into you, taking his every thrust like a champ and he damn well shook the entire vanity, continuously drilling your hole as he gave no room for mercy. Your hands snaked into his hair and tugged, making him groan in approval and he only pushed you open wider in response.

“You pretty brat, look at you getting what you want. Fucked like the cock-loving princess you are.” Jimin breathed against your mouth, his skin slicking with sweat as he worked tirelessly against your opening, battering your pussy with an unforgiving speed.

“You would’ve gotten your dick sucked, but apparently-” you shuddered breathily, “I w-wasn’t a good girl.” You felt weak from his repeated onslaught, the bubbling pleasure in your gut keeping you going.

“Yeah, so fucking behave and maybe I’ll let you choke on my dick.”

“Y-you stop playing games and maybe I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Jimin only ticked his head to the side as he chuckled darkly, starting to propel his thick cock into your gut and raging at your clit so roughly, you gasped as you carved your pleasure into his skin. Jimin did the same as he bore his fingers into you, a hand squeezing your thigh harshly as he held your leg and your walls fluttered around him, moans growing higher in pitch.

“Jimin! I’m gonna-“ you didn’t even complete your sentence as your walls clamped around him, orgasm washing over you so quickly you barely realized it came. You clenched him like a vice and panted hard against his mouth, Jimin finally coming undone as well, spurts of cum painting your insides and filling you to the brim, certain he’d leak out of you for hours.

You felt stuffed, so full of him you were hazed over with post-orgasm bliss, mind unwinding from any trifling matter on Earth. Your forehead slacked against his shoulder as you both panted for air, sweating as Jimin held your weak body in his arms.

His cock remained shoved inside you, the throbbing letting up on both of you as your highs settled down.

“You..” Jimin swallowed dryly, breathing. “took me like a good girl. Maybe you can suck me off next time.”

“Next time?” You breathed labourly, turning your face towards his.

Jimin peered down at you resting against him, biting back a grin. “Of course, there’s always a next time with flirts like us.”

#thebtswritersclub #jimin x reader #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #bts smut #jimin scenario #jimin fanfiction #park jimin #park jimin college au #bangtanhq

2K notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 4 years

Photo

MUCH TOO MUCH

RATING: R/smut (some sex, some alcohol/drugs, cursing, the usual)

WORD COUNT: 9.7k

CATEGORIES: college!harry, roommate!harry

MASTERLIST | ASK ME QUESTIONS

a/n: this is my entry for my beloved @stellarboystyles‘s 3 year anniversary challenge!!!!! it was so fun to write these two and i hope you like it! a bit on the shorter side, but delicious all the same. come talk to me about them when you’re done, i want to hear what you think! (also this was named for the song by lennon stella in case u were curious lol)

Currently, he had you pressed against the wall of a house party, his fingers clenched in the hem of your skin-tight crop top, a knee propped between your legs, and his lips attached to your neck. Your hands were threading through his hair, those locks that curled at the ends and you’d always thought about tugging on, and now that you had the chance you weren’t passing it by.

“Fuck, Harry,” you mumbled, your head spinning from the alcohol in your veins and the feeling of Harry this close to you. To be completely honest, you knew what was happening was probably not the best idea. But considering how many cups of jungle juice you’d had and the fact that you were definitely crossed, you frankly couldn’t find a care in the world.

Harry and Y/N live together and one night they hook up and things get complicated

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry living with you wasn’t planned. At least, not in the way where you guys were best friends and decided to live together way. More in the way of neither of you had anyone else to live with and had the same price range kind of way. You happened to be at a mutual friend’s party mid-way through your sophomore spring and you’d mentioned in passing that you were looking for a roommate, and Harry’s head had popped up.

Somewhere along the way, though, you’d decided you quite liked living with him.

Even if he was obnoxious sometimes, was absolutely shit at doing chores, and couldn’t properly load the dishwasher.

He had a charm to him, you had to admit. He was good at getting on your good side—texting you when you were on the library and he was just leaving to head over, asking if you wanted anything to snack on. One time, he’d brought you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos without being asked because he knew you hadn’t eaten in hours and needed your favorite foods.

His charms were what made you overlook the nights that he had people over and you had to listen to the sound of his bed frame hitting the wall, or had to creep into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning before he and whoever he’d brought back woke up, pretending to not even live in your apartment for fear of being embarrassed. Although, you never quite knew what you should be embarrassed about—but you were. Maybe it was because you frequently ended up listening to his sounds and trying not to think about how good he sounded or wondering what it was like to be in bed with him.

But that wasn’t something you would tell anyone, not even your friends who pestered you about what it was like living with Harry. Harry, the party-goer who always had three types of hard liquor in your kitchen but was also your go-to person to edit your papers and help you study for exams. Harry, who was your partner in crime on a night out and on a night in, someone who you could be yourself with no matter the context. It was something you’d never expected from him, but now that you had it, you couldn’t image losing it.

Which was why the current situation you were in was not the best.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t literally dreamed of this happening. In fact, you wanted this with every fiber of your being. You just didn’t have your brain stopping you now.

His tongue danced up the column of your neck, dipping into the crevice under your ear and his lips formed a circle on your skin and pulled gently, your fingers tugging on the strands of his hair. Your heart was beating wildly and so was his—you could feel it against your body—or maybe that was the thrum of the bass? You weren’t sure. When he tugged on your earlobe you wrapped your hands in the bottom of his graphic t-shirt, some random streetwear company that he was obsessed with lately and you thought was weird, but didn’t comment on.

One of your legs slid up his, ankle hooking around his knee and pulling his pelvis into yours, and the surprised grunt that left Harry’s mouth made you smile. “Y/N,” he groaned, fingers pressing harder into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“I’d ask you the same,” you answered, a devilish smile on your lips that Harry kissed away, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw down just enough so that he could earn access. It was brutal, kissing him. And not because it was bad, but because it was so good and you’d robbed yourself of this for a year and a half.

Your lips intertwined and fought for dominance, Harry’s sliding between yours and sucking and pulling just enough for you to move closer for more. Your wrists ended up behind his neck, holding him close to you, and you used the pressure to gain an advantage, grinding in his hips and kissing him with a passion burning in your heart.

Harry, meanwhile, was losing his fucking mind. He’d been thinking of this forever, and somehow tonight’s combination of alcohol and weed had led you two here: to a position that neither of your quite knew how it started, but you weren’t stopping it. In fact, Harry caged you in, his hands moving from your body to wall behind you, palms pressed to the worn white paint. He didn’t want to lose you, to lose this moment, to pretend like it never happened. Instead, he wanted to keep you tight against him, to memorize how it felt when the heel of your boots dragged along the inside seam of his denim jeans, the warmth spreading across his neck when you gently scratch at his skin as he suckled on your bottom lip and kissed a line across your jaw. He wanted to remember the sound of your soft breaths in his ears, how they increased in tempo as he sucked a hickey onto your neck, doubling his effort when you didn’t move to stop him. He’d seen you with them before and now that you were his—at least for the night—he wanted to give you one to remember him by.

Not that you could forget him. Not with Some Kind of Drug pounding in the speakers, his hips grinding into yours in the low lighting, his teeth nipping at your skin as you exhaled his name and a curse. He was unforgettable, that Harry Styles. Especially when he had your gripping his skin through his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he pushed you higher and higher into the clouds, your mind a haze of just nothing but him.

Harry pulled away a hair, mainly because he was getting tired of just having you against a wall with people everywhere—he either wanted to move this into a private space or call this off. Although he didn’t really want the latter, not really. That was only if you didn’t want him. But from the way you stared at him as he created a half foot of distance between you, your chest heaving, lace edge of your bra peeking out from underneath your cropped tank top, he didn’t think that’s what you wanted.

“Do you want to stay or go?” He asked, one of his hands lingering at the wall next to you and the other moving to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

“Go,” you answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “If—if you want to.”

He didn’t even take a breath before he answered, “Yeah, I want to.”

Which was how you two ended up making out in the Uber back to your apartment, you straddling his lap and twisting over him as he kissed you, his hands cupping your ass. Neither of you were sober enough to think about the fact that you were in someone else’s car, but then again, neither of you would probably care. Especially when you sucked on the edge of Harry’s jaw and he tugged your hips down on his and groaned low and rough in your ear, the sound making you smile against his skin.

The radio was playing the background, but in the haze you didn’t hear anything, all you could take in was Harry: his touch, his smell, the soft sounds he made as you moved on him, the feeling of his jeans against your tights-clad skin. It was chilly out and you had a thin pair of stockings on, sheer enough for your skin to show through, but enough to give you a bit of protection from the nip of the cold. His hands had already rucked up the edge of your favorite leather skirt, and your bra was poking out of the top of your cropped tank top that was tight over the swell of your breasts.

You were a sight in Harry’s eyes, something he couldn’t get enough of. Even though he lived with you, saw you in every outfit, especially the ones involving mismatched sweats and tired eyes, he never thought you were anything other than beautiful. Sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but who wasn’t? But now, with you like this, on top of him, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen you quite this gorgeous. This delicious, even though he hated describing people that way. But how else could he describe you when you stared down at him, lips red from his kisses and eyes blazing for him, chest heaving and cleavage demanding his attention. His hands couldn’t stop curving over your legs, smoothing up and down your thighs. It was sin, he decided, how he felt right now, because he couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts in his brain.

The things he wanted to do to you.

The things he wanted you to do to him.

The things he wanted to see.

The things he wanted you to see.

The things he wanted to hear.

The things he wanted you to hear.

The things he wanted to feel.

The things he wanted you to feel.

It was like a freight train running through his head, all of the images and thoughts and concepts barreling into his thoughts. It made the swirl of your hips over his and the way you curled your fingers into the thin fabric covering his shoulders particularly hard to resist.

Realistically, the drive to your shared off-campus apartment wasn’t that long, but in your heads, it seemed like ages. Ages of waiting for a bed and privacy, ages of waiting to shed layers and know what endless bare skin looked like. So when your driver arrived at your building, you pushed open the door, narrowly missing banging your head on the roof of the car.

Harry chuckled as he tumbled out after you, thanking the driver and wrapping his arm around your waist. You wasted no time before you curled your arm around him and danced your fingers up his opposite side, your lips sucking delicately on the fabric of his t-shirt closest to you. It made Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his breath jump.

Was this what you were always like? This was the thing about this situation—you two knew one another, but not like this. You’d never made out in the back of an Uber or made out on your doorstep while one of you fumbled for the keys like you were now, or felt your hands dig into exposed skin and singe of hot breath on your neck. This was new territory, and perhaps if you both weren’t quite so drunk you would’ve stopped to talk about it.

But instead, Harry was leading you to his bedroom with your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair, his lips crawling up your throat, walking blindly because he knew the way.

The thing about hooking up with someone you’d been close friends with for over a year was that there wasn’t a layer of awkwardness because you didn’t know the person. Instead, it was a hint of unassuredness whenever clothes started coming off, a hint of awe, but nothing uncomfortable. You’d never felt quite this comfortable with someone, in fact. You’d never trusted someone you hooked up with quite as much as you trusted Harry. And he felt the same way. When you pushed his shirt up his torso and scratched your nails softly down his skin he had never felt so alive, so full of desire.

It was why he fell back on his bed and let you stand between his knees in a desperate attempt to get your clothes off so he could feel your bare skin. He’d been waiting all night to see you—to finally see you—and now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go.

“They’re tights,” you mumbled against his lips when he tried to pull on the material on your legs, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“I know,” he replied, smirking. “Not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.” You stepped away, deciding you could do this part by yourself with more ease, and unzipped your leather skirt, the zip down the front meaning it was easy access, and let the material fall to the ground. Harry’s eyes swept up your legs and to the place where the band of your tights dug into your waist, gaze flaming black with desire. Then, you hooked your fingers in the tight band and tugged it down, peeling the thin material off of your skin, hopping on one foot to get them off your feet.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, and instead reached out to hold you steady, a smile winding onto your face from the action. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, standing up straight in just your purple underwear and your shirt and bra. His hands held fast to your hips, palms curving around your skin and gaze dancing up your body. And when you pulled your tight shirt up and over your heads, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, his heart about stopped.

You had on a set that didn’t match, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking at your breasts—it was cliche, that he loved boobs, but how could he not? Especially when you were breathing this fast and looking at him like that and you were wearing a red bra that barely held you in. How as he supposed to not lose his goddamned mind?

“What?” You asked, stepping back in between his legs, hands falling to his shoulders, sliding up the slope to cup his neck.

“You—you just,” he choked out, the words rough and dry in his mouth. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just moved. You kissed him, lips caught between his, and pulled at his shirt, tugging it up until he shifted back to tug it off his body and let it fall to the ground. You stopped thinking, stopped using any sense in your body, and instead just felt. Felt how he made your skin sing and your body thrum with pleasure, how he made the worries at the back of your head fall away with each pass of his hands, focused on the way he kissed across your clavicle and sighed when you harshly gripped his hair. You let yourself drown in those feelings because you knew if you used your head that somehow you would succumb to your fears and lose this moment, and that was the utter last thing you wanted.

Instead, you wanted to drown in him.

And he felt the same way. He fell back onto the duvet and took you with him, flipping you onto your back so that your hair was pressed against the pillowcase, a cheap one from Target he’d brought at the beginning of the year that you’d convinced him was a good color. You looked up at him with awe and temptation in your irises, and Harry took only a minute to rip off his jeans and his t-shirt, leaving his boxers on only because he didn’t want to seem like an asshole. Then, he was back hovering over you, his curls falling into his face, your fingers reaching up to push them back.

A smile drifted across your face and he dropped to his elbows, peppering kisses down your neck and falling back to his knees as he made his way down your body. When he heard a chuckle rip from your throat, he glanced up at you. “Distracted?”

“No,” you said, poking his temple. “Thinking about how when we first met I teased you about how you must fuck girls with your snapback on because you wore it so much.”

Harry hummed a laugh into your chest, dimples peeking out and you thought it was downright adorable. “I was a bit of a whore when we met, huh?”

“Maybe a bit,” you answered, a teasing lilt to your words that Harry knew well. “Don’t worry, you’re only just a bit less of one now. Didn’t lose that title, I don’t think.”

“That’s a bit rude,” he said, sucking harshly at your nipple through your bra. “Bullying me while I’m tryin’ to go down on you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Couldn’t tell since you hadn’t quite made it there yet.”

You were taunting him like you always did, the alcohol in your veins making it more sexual in nature, and Harry loved it. It made it feel like the two of you, not like something that would be completely forgotten in the morning. “Am I too slow for you?” He asked, scratching gently at your sides and making you squirm as he fell farther down the length of your body. “I was trying to take my time but if you’re impatient, then—“

“Harry, please, fuck, just—“ A gasp fell from parted lips when he finally licked at the hood of your clit, your hands gripping his hair within another breath. Your words were nothing but pants, dry and heaving sounds that filled Harry’s head. He’d heard you through the walls before—it was a college-priced apartment, after all. Thick walls weren’t exactly something that fit in your price range. But hearing you this close, this sharp, the sound this crisp in his ears, it was making his hips rut into the duvet. It was his wet dream actualized, as horrible as that sounded.

Yes, he had wet dreams about you.

Yes, he knew that was probably horrible.

And no, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

Your mind, on the other hand, was blank. Like, literally blank. That was the thing about sex when you were drunk, all the thinking and nerves and walls dropped away and you just let your body feel. There wasn’t that niggling thought at the back of your head that questioned if you looked good like this, you just let go and let your back arch and hips circle and arms quiver. Your hands drifted from the duvet to his hair and then the pillow behind your head, trying to figure out what would hold your grip best as Harry absolutely devoured you.

So far, you hadn’t settled on your favorite thing to hold on to, but his hair was in the running for first place. The sight of his eyes peeking up at yours, an image you only got every once in a while because you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, was enough to send you spiraling. But you were trying to hold yourself together because you didn’t want this to end. You’d just gotten him like this and you didn’t want the night to be over because who knew what the morning held?

Thankfully, though, your drunk mind didn’t let those disruptive thoughts linger. Instead, they focused on the orgasm rising as he curled his tongue over your panties and then under them, the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin making you moan deeply, his ring-clad fingers pressing into your hips. Harry loved watching you almost as much as he loved tasting you, doing this to you. There was a power in oral sex, Harry couldn’t deny that, and he loved it not because of the power it gave him, but the gratification of making someone else feel good. He loved watching women finish, and you were no different. In fact, you were blowing every woman before you out of the water.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. He couldn’t tell. But either way, when he sucked on your clit and you squeaked out his name, he didn’t know how he could do this with another person for at least a month or two. Getting you out of his head would be his full-time job for a while, especially while living with you.

Your fingers threaded through his brown curls, eyes fluttering open, mind swirling and trying to focus somehow on the sight below you and the feeling swirling through your body, a tightness spreading up your legs, your toes curling and feet pressing down towards the duvet, scrabbling for something to hold onto. They ended up hooking around Harry’s shoulders, his hands holding your thighs close, as if not worried in the slightest about them getting too tight. Instead, he held you close and your breath came out in short pants, airways drying from not being able to even close your mouth and breathe.

His tongue was just so wet. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Oral while you were like this always felt this way—just overwhelming in the most basic sense. It was wet and warm and overwhelming and you never wanted it to end. You didn’t even know how long he was down there, his head tucked between your thighs, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking up and down your slit, poking his tongue into your hole for a second—just long enough to make you groan, deep and unabashed.

“I’m close,” you murmured, words broken and Harry could only understand them because he had heard you talk in the morning after you’d just gotten up and your mind wasn’t quite working yet. He parsed your words together with ease, and the result made him grin, and suck harshly on your clit, before dropping his chin and licking into you with fervor. “Fuck, Harry.”

“That’s it,” he mumbled, words garbled because he didn’t even raise his head to speak, he kept his lips right on your skin which meant the vibrations of his words flowed through your veins.

His fingertips pressed harshly on the outside of your thighs, holding you close, and somehow the combination of the pressure and the heat of his tongue had you tumbling over the edge, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggled to catch a breath, your orgasm overtaking you. Harry watched as your fingers clenched the duvet, legs tightening and then loosening around his shoulders, before dropping to the bed with a satisfied sigh from your lips.

He could watch you for days.

“Come here,” you said, glancing down at him with a fucked out look on your face, eyes glassy and lips red from chewing on them, your hair a mess from thrashing your head back and forth. He’d never seen you quite like this and he liked the sight.

Liked it a lot, in fact. He moved up your body with ease, the soft skin of his legs rubbing against yours. Once he was at your eye level, you sealed the distance with a kiss that made Harry’s mind fumble for stable ground, desperate for you. When you ran your toes up his calf, though, the soft touch making him moan, he knew he was fucked. “You—need you,” he said, breathless against your lips.

You pushed his underwear down without question, sliding your fingers under the band so you could feel his warm skin under your palms. When he bucked up into you as your nails brushed against his butt cheeks, you smiled against his lips, loving how obvious he was. He didn’t hide anything, pretend like he wasn’t affected. You liked that in a guy. “Condom?” You said, tweaking his skin between your thumb and forefinger.

Harry lifted his head, blinking once. “Yeah—yeah, in the drawer. One sec.” He shifted, rolling off of you so he could do two things. The first was find a condom in the drawer, the second was push down his briefs. Well, technically three things, because after that he rolled the condom on with focus, lip caught between his teeth as you watched, head turned to take in the sight of his side profile.

He was gorgeous. You’d known that for a long while, but seeing him like this, under the glow of the bedside table light and the sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, his chest rising rapidly. You were even attracted to his smattering of chest hair, and especially liked the way his skin purged at his sides. In fact, you reached out and grabbed it gently, drawing his attention back to you.

With one look back at you, he rolled back over you, your legs parting with ease. You wound your fingers through his hair and appreciated that he didn’t ask you questions, that he didn’t try to talk about it because you didn’t want to. You wanted this, it was obvious in how you gazed at him with desire and kneaded at his skin, tugging his pelvis closer and closer. The talk, you thought, would’ve ruined it, made you question it. And you didn’t want to question, you just wanted him.

So when he pushed one of your knees up to your waist and brushed his condom-covered tip over your slit, the skin nudging the hood of your clit, your hips moved without thought. Circled up for him, trying to get the angle for him to slip inside properly. Because you were craving it, feeling him. Needed him in a way you never had before and you didn’t want to linger on it, just wanted it to happen finally.

Harry’s eyes caught on yours, and as if scared of what he found, he looked back down at where your bodies met, before pushing inside. A moan ripped from your throat, fingernails digging into his biceps which you were gripping as he slid in slowly.

“Shit,” you cursed as you felt yourself adjusting to him, “Shit, fuck, shit, Harry.”

“Sorry,” he said, a trace of what you could’ve sworn was a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, squeezing at his arms. “Go.”

And he did.

Holy fuck did he go.

Harry held nothing back when he fucked you. He found a rhythm almost immediately, one that had your torso moving up the duvet and your head raising from the pillow and slamming back down again, eyes fluttering shut and then open again when he hit a deep spot. It was hard to describe how good it felt to have him inside of you, but god, it felt divine. Something you’d been missing. And not that it was him you’d been missing, but sex in general, you’d missed it. Missed this feeling of just losing yourself in it, in the movement of bodies and the sounds and the sweat and that feeling of closeness when Harry’s head dropped down to your neck and he thrusted deep inside of you, an echo of your name on his lips.

Your ankles hooked above his bum, and the impact of his hips on your inner thighs you knew would leave a bruise in the morning and you relished the prospect of it. Of remembering this feeling, of reliving it every time you squatted down. Although the thought of being empty of him was something you were not looking forward to, you were excited about the aftermath on your body.

And Harry was losing his fucking mind as he moved inside of you. Not only because you were squeezing him tight and thought he was going to come within seconds, but because of the way you were wrapped around his body, your hands holding onto his biceps so tightly he was sure there’d be marks tomorrow. It was how your legs sat above his hips, the backs of your heels digging into his ass to make sure he drove into you with a depth and a speed that you needed. Your head tipped back and your mouth was open slightly, tufts of air and moans of pleasure floating from them and through the air, sending sparks down his spine.

When he dropped his head to your neck it was because he missed smelling you, being that close to you. So he lost himself on the column of your neck, leaving mark after mark as he drove into you, as you swallowed him whole—body and mind. This sex was consuming in a way he wasn’t used to and he didn’t think it was the alcohol and the marijuana. He didn’t know why.

Well, he did, but he pretended not to.

Especially when you pulled on his hair and murmured, “Faster, please, H—fuck, please,” in his ear.

Yes, he decided as he sped up and reached a depth that made both of you choke on air, it was a far better idea to pretend that what he was feeling right now was completely normal.

Usually you liked to be on top, to set the pace and keep control when you hooked up with guys, but right now, Harry was doing so good on his own that the last thing you wanted was to stop him. So you let him set the pace and instead kept yourself busy by touching every inch of his body available. You fingers ran down the length of his arms, across the black tattoos swirling across his skin, and towards his chest, making a line down to his belly. When you scratched softly over his skin he grunted—and not a weird sound, but one that you could tell meant he liked it.

So you pressed a little harder, experimenting a bit.

To your smug joy, Harry’s fingers curled in the duvet next to your stomach, arms tensing, and his eye snapped to yours. He didn’t even have to say anything—you knew. He wanted you to keep going.

And you did. You brushed your hand to the top of his torso and dragged a torturing path downwards, nails biting into his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave an angry red trail. Harry was panting above you, eyes fluttering closed as he thrusted into you.

He was close. Your nails mixed with how you squeezed him tight inside of you and the sounds you were making and the slam of the bed against the wall and your perfume lingering in the air—it all mixed together into a dangerous concoction that had him struggling on the edge. “Are you close?” He asked, words rougher than they had been when he last spoke.

When your chin tipped down ever so slightly, Harry smiled devilishly, the prospect of bringing you over the edge again spurring him on, a second surge of energy coursing through his veins. Any exhaustion he had been feeling before from lingering in the same position, any ache in his knees or tightness in his arms was gone, in favor of pressing your knees farther up towards your chest, earning a new angle that had your hands scrambling up his arms and nails digging into his shoulders.

He hissed at the touch and you panted the word Yes over and over again, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm built inside of you like a tidal wave, threatening to break as he twisted his hips a particular way. You were going to come, you realized only seconds before it happened, the depth Harry was reaching and the brutal pace against your hips creating a deadly combination.

As you did, a shudder of his name falling through the room, you squeezed Harry like a death grip and he choked out a moan before coming mere seconds after, unable to hold himself back any longer.

“Shit,” he said, leaning against your shins as he caught his breath. Your legs were still propped up against your chest, his hands caging in your body as he leaned his weight onto you.

Your eyes opened, the soft bedroom light seeming brighter after what had just happened. “Shit,” you answered simply, not knowing what else to say.

What did you say to your roommate after you fucked them, anyway? The alcohol still lingered, both of you plenty tipsy still. It was enough for your legs to drop open and happily let Harry kiss you senseless as he withdrew from inside of you, your hand cupping his jaw. His lips were fucking sin and you hoped you would be able to forget them. Because as he pulled away and mumbled about throwing away the condom, leaving you breathless on his duvet, you didn’t know if you’d be able to.

Harry woke up to an empty bed and a throbbing headache. He was still naked, but that wasn’t unusual considering he favored sleeping naked, and his duvet cover was around his waist. The side of the bed you had been asleep in when he’d shut his eyes was bare, the duvet cover askew from seemed to be you leaving.

He rolled over and picked up his phone, cursing at the low battery from not charging it last night. Then, he sat up in bed, letting the sheets pool at his waist and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. His eyes were dry, probably from the weed, and his throat was dry, probably from the alcohol and the sex.

The sex.

His mind flipped through it in a series of images, like a slideshow on double time, the sight of you naked below him filling his brain. The thing about drunk sex was that you could remember the overall experience, the general highlights, certain specific moments, but it wasn’t like you could pick through it and remember each detail. But Harry didn’t even need the details to know it was fucking incredible.

Fucking you was literally a dream come true.

What wasn’t was the other half of the bed being empty, especially considering it was only eight AM.

He listened to the apartment, trying to decipher if he could hear you moving around. Usually he could hear your footfalls, considering how small and cheap the place was. But it was silent, meaning either you were still asleep or you weren’t home. Most likely it was the former, since it was still early and you usually slept late after a night out.

Although he didn’t know how you were the night after sex. And when had you gotten up from his bed?

More importantly, why had you gotten up from his bed?

Logically, he knew it was probably to avoid a weird interaction, but it was more weird for him to wake up alone and not know why. To not know how you wanted to handle this. Because his sober mind was increasingly realizing that although last night’s events were sensational, they were on the whole an utterly horrible idea.

The two of you lived together, for Pete’s sake. You were practically best friends. You still had half a year worth of a lease.

He groaned, his chin dropping to his chest as he took a deep breath. He could do this, he told himself as he kicked back the covers and slid his legs out of the bed. He could handle this.

So he put his phone on its charger, slipped on a pair of joggers, and went to find you.

What Harry didn’t know was that in the next room, you were wide awake. You had tried to fall back asleep after you’d crept out of his bed at six AM, and you had for a while. But then you woke up and the reality of last night came crashing back through your brain and you groaned, reminding yourself how fucking stupid you were.

Sure, Harry was hot.

That didn’t mean you had to fuck him, you idiot, you told yourself. He was your roommate, your friend. Not someone to sleep with. And yet, here you were, your thighs sore from his hips crashing against them and your body smelling like sex and his cologne.

You heard his door open—it was a small apartment after all—and your heart stopped for a second. You waited for the sound of his footsteps, praying he would just walk to the kitchen and not stop at your room. Listening closely, you heard him pause outside your room and then continue into the kitchen, where you heard the refrigerator open and close and then the kettle humming as he started a cup of tea. A part of you sighed, but the other part of you remembered that you had to see him eventually.

Why were you hiding, anyway?

It wasn’t like you could avoid him, and what did you have to avoid him about? Sure, you’d seen his naked body, sure he’d seen yours, sure you’d had mind blowing sex. That didn’t mean anything.

Right?

“Shit,” you groaned softly into your pillow and decided you would stay in your room until the last possible second. You never said you weren’t a coward.

Unfortunately, an hour later the desire to pee was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer. So you huffed out a sigh, threw on a pair of pajamas and pushed open your door, taking a tentative step into the hallway, trying to gauge where in the house Harry was. You’d lost track of him during a scroll through Instagram and couldn’t quite place him anymore and it was making you nervous.

Then, you heard the floorboards creak.

Your head whirled to the side, your eyes meeting his. He was standing not two feet away, looking at you with messy hair and wide eyes, a cup of tea clutched in one hand. “Hi,” you managed to say. “Bathroom.”

All he did was nod. He nodded as if this entire situation was somehow normal and completely not fucking with both of your brains.

So you strolled down the hall to the bathroom and shut yourself inside. If he wanted to pretend like this was normal, you could do that, you decided. You’d give him normal.

For the next two weeks, that was exactly what you did. You were the picture of normalcy—you pretended like nothing had happened, just made jokes in the kitchen and joined him for study hours and brought home takeaway for the two of you on Thursday night as usual. However, you couldn’t ignore how things had changed between the two of you. There was this…air between you. Charged with sexual tension that you couldn’t ignore, mixed with a hint of awkwardness and uncertainty that had you both on edge. Gone were the playful squeezes to your sides and you swatting him upside the head when he was annoying. Gone was any unexpected touch, in fact. It was like the Cold War in your apartment, a détente on both sides.

It was excruciating. So much so that you’d found yourself wondering if you needed to move out, which was a stupid idea considering it was mid-way through the year and you adored your apartment. It would also probably be more awkward to break the lease agreement than keep it, you decided.

So instead, you stayed, and you pushed through the uncomfortable moments and spent more time in your room than ever before, the living room a space you avoided unless you had to be there. Harry did the same, a look of almost panic on his face whenever you walked into the kitchen in the morning for breakfast. Was the idea of being in close quarters with you really that horrible sounding?

Apparently, it was.

Two weeks after the night of your greatest mistake, the two of you ended up meeting up with your friends. In fact, the exact same set of friends who you’d been with at the house party two weeks prior. You’d ended up walking over to Mariah’s apartment together, a case of Whiteclaws tucked under Harry’s arm. You were rambling about your art history course and he was nodding along, offering the occasional thought. It felt decently normal, and you were hoping it would last through the night.

At first, it did. But then, more and more people started showing up—some people in the debate club with Mariah, a few from the club soccer team with James, the entirety of Lilah’s a cappella group, and then some people you and Harry had each invited. The result was a packed apartment, the music blaring from a portable speaker, and alcohol bottles and plastic cups littering every surface. There was the faint smell of marijuana from when some people went to smoke in Mariah’s room, and it felt comfortable.

You were talking in a group of yourself, two of your friends from a summer internship you’d had, Harry, and Wei, a guy Harry knew from freshman year who had stayed close with. It took everything in your body not to let your gaze linger on Harry, the cut of his dark green t-shirt close to his body and his black skinny jeans gripping his thighs. His hair was a mess, as it always was when he’d had a couple drinks because he ran his hands through it nonstop. His green eyes were sparkling as he listened to a story Wei was telling, his full body laugh sounding in your ears. It was torture being this close to him and there being a wall between the two of you.

“Hey,” your friend Deliah said, her soft voice pulling your attention back to her. “You and Harry okay?”

She hadn’t been there two weeks ago and you hadn’t told her about what had happened. “Yeah, we’re fine,” you told her with a slight nod.

She studied you for a beat longer, but then seemed to accept the response. “I’m going to go get another, you want anything?”

“No, go ahead,” you answered, raising your still half-full glass.

Ronnie, who stood next to you, said she’d go along and then Wei pulled away and followed them, saying he needed another beer and wanted to find one of his friends and say hello, and suddenly, it was just you and Harry. You and Harry and both of you were fairly drunk and you couldn’t stop looking at his lips. The memory of how they felt against yours pushing its way into your brain and suddenly overtaking your every thought.

What was worse was how he was looking at you. He was watching you, something you knew because you knew him, knew what every one of his glances meant. This one was backed by thoughts, it was the result of him thinking about you and watching your face for something. What, you didn’t know. But you couldn’t take the way his eyes were trained on your expression, the feeling of his gaze on your skin. The distance between you felt like it was shrinking and you felt like you could smell his cologne even though in reality you couldn’t, and you wondered if your heart was pounding in your chest because of the alcohol in your bloodstream or him.

You couldn’t stand there next to him, you decided. You simply couldn’t.

“I’m going to get some air,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “Back in a second.”

He may have said something, but you were gone before you could hear it, threading through the crowd towards the patio door. It was a tiny patio, just enough space for a set of chairs and a narrow table, but it was enough. It was empty and the music was quieter as you shut the sliding door.

You could breathe out here, and you did, resting your cup on the railing and looking out at the street. Mariah’s apartment was nestled closer to campus, a bit more of an expensive place thanks to her parents and a high-paying summer internship. Distantly you heard the chatter of people walking on the street towards frat row, the honk of what were probably Ubers picking people up and dropping them off at parties.

Slowly, you inhaled, trying to calm the fast beat of your heart. Your thoughts drifted back to Harry, though, and how you had just looked at one another, had studied each other, both knowing that you couldn’t continue you like this. Something had to give and you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t know what to do. Mariah had tried to talk to you about it, but you’d pretended like it was fine because you didn’t want her meddling. You knew she would try to talk to Harry and then it would become some big thing for all of your friends to know about, and you didn’t want that. You just wanted it to be solved and done and over with. You didn’t want all of these feelings in your chest or these thoughts in your head, you didn’t want to think about this anymore.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about how good he’d felt, about how you wished it could happen again, about how you’d had fucking dreams about him, about how every time you heard his voice it sent shivers through your body because it reminded you of the way he’d said your name, rough and deep and rumbling in his chest.

And then you heard it: your name, in that rough and deep voice. “Y/N.”

“I want to be alone for a bit,” you said, not even turning to face him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously ignoring your words and instead shutting the sliding door behind him.

It was quiet now, and because the balcony was narrow he ended up standing right next to you, his elbow mere inches from yours as he leaned on the railing. “Nothing,” you said with a sigh, the lie bitter on your tongue. “Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, just let your words float in the slight breeze. But then, you heard the crinkle of his thumb pressing into his cup and you knew he was fidgeting, thinking about something, and you knew he was going to break that silence. “Did I mess everything up?” He asked, so soft you barely heard it over the music from inside.

That make you turn your head, eyes meeting his finally. “It’s not your fault. I was there too, we both are responsible.”

“Then, did we mess everything up?”

You sighed, searching for the words. “I don’t think we messed everything up,” you told him finally. “But I don’t know if it can be like it was before.”

“Do you want it to be like it was before?”

His words made your heart jolt. “When we were friends?”

“Aren’t we still friends?” His words were so soft, so full of emotion, you wondered if this was the kind of conversation to be having right now.

“Yes,” you answered. “But…”

“Nothing more,” he finished. You nodded, and both of you were silent for a beat, letting the truth settle between you two. It was the first time you’d even acknowledged that anything had happened. “I don’t want…”

You turned to look at him and saw his tight his jaw was set, how his eyes were trained on the street in front of the building. How he could barely look at you. “H?”

When he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes were glassy, and you realized he was nearly crying. “I don’t want to go back to how it was before,” he said, words broken in his throat. “I want…I want more.”

That made your mind grind to a halt. “You—what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he whispered.

You realized he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much you felt for him, how much the night you’d spent together had absolutely destroyed any semblance of an ability to pretend like you weren’t into him, that you hadn’t had a crush on him for ages. He had no fucking clue. “Harry,” you said, reaching out and brushing your fingers along his forearm, “I want the same thing.”

His eyes widened, gaze falling to where your fingers touched his skin and back up to your eyes. “You do?” You nodded, a smile spreading across your face that he quickly mirrored. “Have we been absolute idiots?” He asked, turning on his heal so you were facing one another fully. Then, he reached up and ran his forefinger across your jawline, a shudder running through your body at the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

“I think we might have been,” you answered, ducking your head ever so slightly so that his finger ran up to your mouth, brushing across your bottom lip.

He cleared his throat when you dropped your jaw ever so slightly, just enough for his finger to press in-between your lips, a ghost of a touch. “Can’t even think when you’re looking at me like that,” he mumbled, words that same roughness you remembered from your night together.

“Right back at you,” you told him.

He stepped closer to you, closing the distance. “We’re such idiots,” he murmured, hand moving to cup your jaw, his fingers brushing under your ear.

“Such idiots,” you agreed.

And slowly, he closed the space between you two, his lips brushing yours hesitantly. But the second you felt his mouth slot between yours, you moved closer, pressing your body against his and your arms winding around his waist to hold him close. His other hand brushed down your side and the grip made your skin sing, finally being close to him was everything you needed. It healed the ache in your heart that had lingered ever since that morning, that morning when everything had gone so wrong.

His lips parted and he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough so your foreheads stayed touching.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, his breath on your lips.

“I got scared you would regret it in the morning,” you replied. “I didn’t want to be there when you did.”

He chuckled softly, a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t regret it,” he told you. “I thought you did.”

“I’m so stupid,” you said, one of your hands moving from his back to encircle his wrist that held your face. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to your nose so sweetly your knees just about gave out. “Got you in the end, right?”

You hummed an affirmation and leaned up so that your lips could reconnect, kissing him with a passion you’d been seeking for two weeks. And when he kissed you back, the tips of his hair brushing your skin and his fingers pressing against your skin, you sighed, finally feeling settled once again. You’d missed this—him, being this close to him. Somehow, that one night had made you permanently miss him.

He’d truly done a number on you.

“Wanna go home?” You asked between kisses, loving the soft moan that feel from his throat at the thought.

“As long as I wake up to you still next to me,” he replied.

“Promise,” you said, kissing him once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you ended up keeping the apartment for the rest of the year, your stuff slowly ending up in his room because the mattress was more comfortable, and eventually your old room became a shared study room. It was where your desks ended up and you’d study there together in the evenings or marathon study sessions on the weekends, music playing from a speaker between you two. Most of the time, you ended up making out, though, and occasionally having sex on one of your desks or on the floor because frankly you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The sexual tension that had been there that first night had lingered, and it made it so you two truly couldn’t stop touching each other.

It drove your friends crazy, all of them yelling at you whenever you started making out at parties, reminding you that you were in public and you could hold off until you were home, thank you very much. And Harry just would kiss your temple and whisper in your ear about what he wanted to do to you later, and you’d pinch his bum to remind him that he wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeves.

Harry had never fallen in love with someone so fast, but with you it was easy. You had been one of his favorite people before you’d started dating, but now it was like you were truly the most incredible people in the world. He’d wake up with you snuggled into his chest, hair tickling his nose, and he’d get a kiss before you left bed since your class schedules started at the same time most days. You’d make his tea just like he liked it and rubbed his back when he got sick after a big night out, and when you laughed at one of his corny jokes your entire face would light up, a beaming smile that made his whole body ache. You were so gorgeous is physically hurt sometimes because he couldn’t stop staring at you, absorbing just how fucking perfect you were.

It was funny, because dating you wasn’t all that different from being your friend. He still got all the shared dinners and movie nights and hilarious stories the morning after a night out, but now he got to hear them while cuddling you on the couch, your head tucked against his neck. And when you teased him about how much of a boy he was (his snapback was your favorite target) you’d kiss him to make him stop pouting. But he was happy. He was so fucking happy with you.

He was thinking about all of that while you sat on the couch together, his head lying in your lap as you read a book for class, your fingers running through his hair absentmindedly. He was watching you, something he did often and you’d grown used to, and suddenly the overwhelming desire to finally tell you how he felt hit him like a truck.

And unlike previous attempts, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you,” he said, the words so simple and sure that they made you stop reading and look down at him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, drawing out the last word and tucking his face into your stomach, peppering kisses over your shirt. For some reason, he wasn’t nervous, knowing you’d say it or not and either way it was okay—he wasn’t expecting you to necessarily be ready. He just couldn’t hide it anymore.

He knew your mind was turning but he just kept kissing you, knowing the action would calm your anxious thoughts. “I love you too,” you finally said after a beat, and he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot,” you answered, setting your book down on the couch and smiling at him. “Wasn’t expecting to tell you quite like this, though.”

“How were you planning to tell me?”

You shrugged, rubbing a circle on his forehead. “Dunno. Something more monumental, I guess? I know you like all those romance movies, so I thought maybe something like in one of those.”

He adored the fact that you wanted to make it special, that you’d thought about it, but he just shook his head at you. “I don’t need it to be monumental,” he told you, brushing his fingers along your chin. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” he said, sitting up and grabbing your hips, swinging you onto his lap with your laughter raining down on him. “Never going to stop telling you how perfect you are.”

He hooked his fingers on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, one of those ones that made your thoughts all mushy and his heart pound in his chest because sometimes the way he felt about you just made his whole body go silent except for his heart. Or, at least it felt that way.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your lips, eyes catching yours.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing his nose softly.

“Are we going to be one of those couples that is constantly competing over who loves the other person more?” He asked, nestling his head in the space between your shoulder and neck, settling there as your fingers swept through his hair. You wrapped around him like this was his favorite place to be.

“Probably,” you answered simply, a tender kiss to the side of his head. “Now, does this mean you’ll make dinner tonight? I’ve got a paper to edit.”

He laughed into your shoulder, picking his head up to look at you. “You make it sound like I don’t make dinner practically every night.”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your face. “You’re just better at it.”

“False, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“God, your ego has got to be massive now,” you mumbled, and he laughed, smile stretching across his face and dimples poking out.

“Alright, go start on your essay and I’ll cook something for us. Sound good?”

You beamed at him. “Perfect.” You bounced off his lap, grabbing your book and heading for your old room. “Love you!”

The words were called over your shoulder and Harry smiled at how perfect they sounded on your lips, how easy it was to answer back simply, “Love you more,” at your receding figure, the thought gracing his mind at how he’d like to be saying those words to you for a very, very long time.

HI I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!!! COME TALK TO ME IN MY INBOX AND PLEASE REBLOG SO MORE PEOPLE GET TO READ/SEE THIS!!! XOXOXOXO LOVE YOUUUU

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #college harry styles #college!harry #college harry #roommate harry #roommate harry styles

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essenteez · 3 years

Text

father || seonghwa

⛓▪︎"𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 ‘𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚢" 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏"

🦂 Summary: Unable to resist the thrill, you’re sneaking out to meet with Seonghwa - a man that shouldn’t even cross your mind but you’ve let him do more than that. He’s not only a man full of passion, he’s also bound by something bigger that makes him forbidden. But you can’t let him go and he can’t stay away.

Pairing: Seonghwa x reader (f)

Genre: smut (if you’re uncomfortable with this type of content then kindly leave)

Warnings: explicit language, rough sex, dom, oral receiving (m)

Words: 3.2k

.•°•.

The magnetic click of the lock interrupted the absolute silence as the door slowly opened. You entered the dark hotel room solely illuminated by a weak light coming from outside the window. Your eyes still needed a second to adjust to the noir-like scene in front of you. Your entire body tensed up as soon as you closed the door behind you. You could feel every drop of blood raising its temperature in you. An even but deep breathing came from inside of the room only confirming his presence. The scent of his cologne tickled your nose, intensifying all your senses.

As his outline started to become clearer, you noticed he was sitting in the armchair that was situated in the farthest corner of the room. He was hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, legs sprawled open. He seemed all too composed but the longer he looked at you the more he couldn’t sit still. You took a few steps forward leaving the small hall and entering into the bedroom. You put your purse on top of a drawer next to you, still keeping eye contact. You didn’t need any welcoming words from him, his stare said it all.

Keeping your distance, you stood in front of him, legs slightly ajar. You were finally in view of his face; his eyes were a blaze, but his face completely void of emotions. You both stood there taking in each other’s view, biting your lip as the slightest tug pulled the corner of his mouth. He was devouring every inch of you; taking in every detail of your attire. You wore a loose-fitting white blouse that was tucked into a form fitting black, thigh-high skirt, your legs veiled in black stockings. Despite being completely clothed, you felt entirely naked under his unwavering gaze.

Tension filled the room entirely, making the air heavy on your lungs. You could feel your wetness beginning to moisten your underwear. Seeing as how hard he was trying to resist touching you, you decided on a small, but significant first move. You raised your hand towards a black ribbon that was elegantly wrapped up around your neck and began to untie it gently by pulling one of the ends. The moment the satin ribbon was loosened, you reached out your hand letting it flutter to the floor.

His breath slowly quickened as he watched the ribbon slowly fall on the carpet. He never expected that any woman could bring him to his current state. Lust was something that was forbidden for him. He had successfully fought it for so long. That was until you showed up, revealing all your fetishes in detail to him at the confessional. Every urge that he suppressed was being revived in him. Your meetings were something that should have not even begun in the first place but you couldn’t resist the urges and all the possible sins you could commit with him. How could he fight it for so long?

You waited there, ready for his intentions. Seonghwa wasn’t just an ordinary man, sex with him was a sin greater than with any other. You wondered if the reason you couldn’t let him go was due to the illicit allowance of your relationship. After all, they say forbidden fruit is the sweetest. He was filling your head with all the inappropriate thoughts that made your mouth water even without him there. Everything about him was unusual. The fact he was a priest, the way you had to hide how your eyes devoured each other during Mass, so that no one else was aware.

The priest got up and slowly began to approach you, his head held high as he looked down at you over his nose. He slowly rolled his black sleeves up his elbows, his eyes speaking dark and dangerous desires. The moment he stood directly in front of you, his arms grabbed you by your waist, pulling you close to him. His lips hungrily crashed into yours. Seonghwa had no hesitation in him and all you could do was give in to his neediness. Your bodies were glued to each other as you inched closer to the edge of the white sheeted bed behind you. As you felt it near you, your first reaction was to sit down but he stopped you.

“Undress me”, he commanded you, breaking the heated kiss. You smirked at him as your fingers wandered towards his neck. You attempted to pull off his clerical collar; wanting to flick it aside, but before you could Seonghwa took it from your hand.

“I’ll need it” he whispered to your lips, eyes watching you intently. You smirked at him and continued down to unbutton his black shirt, uncovering his well-proportioned torso. His skin was smooth yet firm. Your throat suddenly feeling dry as you tried to swallow at the sight of him. You wanted to taste every part of him. Successfully pulling his shirt slightly off his shoulders, you began to kiss him gently, caressing his lips with yours.

You slowly relocated to the soft part of his neck making your way to his shoulder. Your lips caressed his chest as your knees hovered just over the floor. Finally meeting his v-lined abdomen, peppering his hips with wet kisses. Seonghwa loved the sight of you on your knees looking up at him. Before meeting you, he had never felt less of a man but you showed him what he had been missing. Many times he was ashamed of the thoughts he had, knowing that he shouldn’t be that way. But he wanted you, he could no longer resist. He wanted you to be his, to be your dominator, commanding you and punishing you for your disobedience. You were undoubtedly fulfilling his needs as you read his mind.

You unbelted his pants and slowly unzipped him, kissing through the fabric at him, gently nipping at his thighs. His impressive length proudly throbbed in your face as you released him from behind the undergarments. Your impatient fingers wrapped around him and began to stroke him, causing him to exhale sharply. You smiled to yourself feeling satisfied that you brought a whine from his so called pure lips. Unable to control your drooling, you started licking him from bottom to top, gathering all of the precum on your tongue as you stared into his eyes.

“Fuck” he cursed, brows furrouging from the pleasure. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you back only to coerce an evil smirk from you. Wrapping your fingers back around his cock, you quickened your movements, earning more unholy words from him. You embraced him with your mouth, gently sucking the tip, your tongue flicking over it while you fondled him below.

“Suck on it”, he hissed, tangling all his fingers in your hair. You began to caress his balls, making his head fall back, “Ah Y/n” he said sharply, “J-just like that.”

You purred as you took him completely into your mouth. Sliding up and down you coated his length with your saliva, slurping sounds filled the room. His eyes rolled back from unbearable pleasure you were causing him as you caressed his manhood. Suddenly his head whipped back up and he looked down over his nose at you. His pupils fully engulfed the colored parts of his eyes. He growled at the view of you harshly sucking on his swollen tip, as you grinned teasingly. The ecstasy was making his head spin and he couldn’t help but close his eyes again.

You separated your sweet lips from his quivering cock. You gave him a few more long strokes before taking your hand off him. Seonghwa looked at you confused, feeling the cold from the lack of your touch. You sat on the bed, slowly running your finger along the length of your legs and slowly parting a bit, just enough to give a sneak peek under your skirt. Your lower lip was caught between your teeth.

“I got tired”, you pouted, wiping the smudged lipstick off your chin. Not able to stop yourself you added a sultry toned, “Father”

Seonghwa eyebrow cocked and stoned faced, stared at your amused expression, studying it for a short minute. He didn’t feel like joining the fun you were having at his expense. The flame that had slowly grew from the moment you walked into the room, now doubled with intensity within him, making him huff in frustration. Your bratty behavior always brought out the real colors in Seonghwa. His gaze slipped down to your lower parts as you invitingly spread your legs a little more, causing the tight skirt to slide up, revealing your full thighs and stocking strings.

“I’m not in the mood for your games. So stop 'til I’m asking nicely” his fist tightened around the clerical collar he had been clutching, chest staggeredly rising and falling, as he tried to control himself.

“Or what?” you provoked as you started stroking his inner thigh with your foot still adorned with a black leather heel. Your eyes ablaze with mischievousness.

“Or…” he smirked, grabbing his length in his hand, “…you’re not getting any absolution tonight”

Your mischievous smile faded since you know he never went back on his word. The last thing you needed was to leave this room unfucked. Seonghwa rose his brow in victory, with a barely visible smirk, tongue wetting the corner of his mouth.

“On the bed. All four” he commanded, making sure he enunciated every word for you.

You obeyed and without a hesitation you turned around, with cat-like moves arching your back downwards in a stretch. Waiting for his move, you couldn’t be still from neediness. Seonghwa walked up to you after a long minute of admiring the sight of you in this position, it was mouthwatering for him as he licked his lips. You purred when his warm hands raised your skirt up to your waist and began to massage your plump little ass. You did everything to fit the movement of his eager hands. Surprised as he abruptly ripped the strings from your stockings, made you gasp loudly. Next thing you felt was your panties being brought down your knees.

“Tell me all your sins”, he said in an undertone, his voice was dripping with playfulness. Groaning at the sight of your wetness leaking on your inner thighs. He bent down as his tongue quickly made contact to harvest all of your sweetness, procuring delightful noises from you, “I’ll help you"

His hand suddenly smacked your ass harshly. His mind was being fed on your whimpers, "Did you lie to your friends and parents while telling them where you’re going tonight?"

"Y-yes” you confessed, with that another smack graced your skin. You squealed from blissful pain.

“Did you touch yourself while thinking of impure scenes?” Seonghwa continued mercilessly, the red print of his big hand painted on your asscheek.

“I d-did” you confirmed, biting your lip and preparing for another pleasant strike. Your hips twitched from impatience. You cursed as you felt a new stinging pain, sending a new wave of pleasure between your legs.

Seonghwa continued his punishment, satisfied with the redness now decorating your skin,“Did you fantasize about a priest?"

"Mhm yes, yes I did” you admitted, your nails digged in the sheets.

“Do you regret all of it?” He said now massaging your burning flesh, feeding his pride with the loud whimpers that were escaping your faltering pretty mouth.

“No”, you said shortly and confidently.

Grabbing you by your hips, Seonghwa flipped you on your back in one fell swoop. You yielded to him and laid there like a good girl he made you be.

He looked down at your vulnerable state and hissed through his teeth “You will"

The power he held over you was astonishing. It always surprised you that you could only pull up with weak, bratty actions towards him. Experiencing how his angelic side gives way to the majestic and controlling aura possessing him when he was with you made your knees unstable. He took off your skirt along with your underwear, tossing them somewhere behind him. The wildfire in his gaze was hypnotizing you. You couldn’t do anything but just admire your lover as he took his shirt and pulled out the belt out of his pants. The skin on his slim but beautifully shaped torso glistened in the pale blue light peeking through the widow.

He now kneeled between your legs, both hands busy holding the tools of your upcoming, sweet torture, "Your wrists” he demanded.

Overwhelmed by the increasing neediness, you reached your hands towards him without hesitation. The harshness of the leather belt hugged your skin, imprisoning your wrists tightly. Your hands ended up pinned on the cold sheets above your head as Seonghwa hovered over you.

You buckled your hips upwards towards his pulsating pride. His free hand putting the clerical collar between his teeth made you moan. He was so hot even when he was doing the bare minimum. Seonghwa only chuckled at your lack of self control and started loosening up the pearl buttons of your blouse.

He surprised you with the way he got rid of your garments so quickly and smoothly. First he detached the straps in the front and then slid his free hand behind your back, undoing the rest of your two way bra tossing it away. Eliminating the obstacles without a problem, he left you in the unbuttoned blouse and black stockings.

“Does leaving some pieces of clothing on me make things less lascivious for you?” you breathed out underneath him. He only smiled at you, apparently you still had some piece of mind left to joke, but not for long.

He pulled the collar from his teeth, giving his grin a quick swipe with his tongue. It was a stiff, medium sized slip-in piece of thick plastic, covered with cotton material. You exhaled sharply, feeling its ending sliding on your neck as Seonghwa painted invisible abstractions on your skin with it. He studied how your body reacted when he dragged the collar down your chest, then circling it around your breasts and nipples. The provoking friction made your back slightly arch. Your heart accelerated its beating, taking on an unstable pace. Every trace of the collar delightfully burned your flesh, resulting in your vocal chords to produce delight whines. You helplessly watched how Seonghwa’s tool of torture wandered down to your core.

“Oh Go-God” feeling the stiff collar mercilessly circling around your clit, your body convulsed but you couldn’t do much with your hands pinned above your head. The wetness gained in intensity, soaking the white material. Seonghwa let out playful sounds and chuckles, fascinated with tormenting you as he was sliding the tool up and down your dripping folds.

“P-please, don’t torture me” you whined. The waves of heat flooding your body hindered your breathing. You felt like you were on fire.

Seonghwa smirked at you, leaning towards your ear, “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, “Say it. Tell me how you want me to do it?"

"Be ruthless” you begged “I want to scream…”

“So indecent you are”, he hissed out angrily, looking into your eyes, “You will have to stand throughout the whole Mass tomorrow” His lips trapping yours in a heated kiss.

The collar landed somewhere on the floor as your lover positioned himself in front of your entrance. Provoking your core, he drew shapes with his glistening tip. He finally entered you deep with his first thrust, making you moan into the kiss. The hot touch of his hand stroking your leg from your ankle to your ass as he squeezed hard after grabbing a handful of it.

He progressed quickly but kept a rhythmic pattern. The sounds of your wet juices filled the room as he continued to push into you harder and deeper. Now with both hands, he held your wrists down while sucking and marking your neck. Beautiful moans and groans left your lips.

“I can feel every part of you, you’re too much, i- i can’t t-take it” your breathing staggered and you were overwhelmed by the way his painfully hard cock rubbed you from inside.

“Look at me” Seonghwa hummed, wanting you to watch him. To watch his face while he was taking what was his. You could barely keep eye contact with him as they naturally wanted to roll back from all the pleasure.

His gaze was exploding with control that made you feel smaller than you already were. As if he was reading your soul. He suddenly lowered himself, laying on you, fucking you slowly. You squirmed feeling the weight of his body rubbing onto yours, your breasts being caressed by the friction between you. The warmth of his body quickly warming yours.

“I want to see you like this everyday”, he whispered into your lips. You were gripping him mercilessly making him curse again under his breath, “Fuuuck, you’re so tight for me."

Seonghwa finally decided to free your wrists. Once released, your hands quickly gripped the bed sheets on either side of you. He pulled himself up again as his thrusts quickened the pace again. His hand sneaking up and wrapping firmly around your neck. Your body arched in response, taking his movements with devotion. He was fucking you ruthlessly, as the whole bed began to move along with him.

"Seong-” his tip attacked your sweet spot unforgivably. You were so close, your sight began to go dark. He could feel that you were about to fall apart on him and gripped your waist, increasing the speed, pushing into you like the demons he tried so hard to fight.

“I’m cum- cumming” you cried out whilst the ecstasy coursed over every inch of your body, shatting your soul. You screamed his name loud, struggling to take a proper breath as your body was torn with spasms.

Your climax caused your walls to close around him tightly taking everything from him. Feeling how you squeezed him from all sides, he couldn’t help but join you in the ritual, “Oh fu- fuck fuck” his cum painted your insides.

He wanted it to be like that all the time, but only with you. The only woman that had seduced him. You were the only sin he didn’t want to confess.

He laid on you again, placing elbows on both sides of your head. as you dug your nails into his back until you both rode your highs with deep and slow movements. His lips kissing your forehead gently as he watched you calm down from the ruining pleasure, closing your eyes from exhaustion. As Seonghwa attempted to remove himself you stopped him by wrapping your legs around his hips. You wanted to feel him inside of you as long as you could.

Seonghwa fulfilled your silent request, cupping your face and bringing his forehead to yours. He didn’t know if it was love but he couldn’t stand seeing you with another man. Simply thinking about it woke the anger within him. Your lover captured your lips with his and started to kiss you deeply as you tangled your fingers in his hair, accepting all the affection.

.•°•.

To my fellow Christians, sorry guys 😂

881 notes · View notes

kkeidawrites · 3 years

Note

AHHH idk rlly know if you still do requests but if u still do could u do Adrian tepes x black reader

Where after the battle in season 2 reader initially went with sypha and trevor to help them with whatever they were gonna do but y/n ends missing adrian (and was tired of those to goofing all the time) so in the dead of night y/n takes some supplies and runs back to the castle. And when she sees the castle in sight she throws open the doors and starts looking for alucard

(Fluff)

Ur account is like my safe place I don't find many black readers/ writers so I absolutely love your posts ❤❤

Thank you so much for saying that I do try when I write and I want people to be inspired to write more black reader stories or actually more black leads in stories’ I’m not sure if you wanted the reader to be male/female or gender neutral, so you can decide as you read along! And yes, I am still open to requests!

$$$$$$$$$$$$$&$$$$$$$$$$$$$&$$$$$$$$$$

It was like a breath of fresh air when Y/n saw the looming infamous castle of Walachia. Y/N had made the decision to leave with Trevor and Sypha, thinking it was the best decision. But was it? As the covered wagon rolled down the dirt path leading away from the castle, Y/N felt her heart break.

Y/N could tell as the three of them departed the widowed dhampir, that he did not want them to leave. As Y/N thought about it, after being away for two weeks, that when Dracula’s reign had ended, Trevor and Sypha felt that they needed to leave right after. Y/N thought their abrupt departure was selfish both on their part and on Y/N’s as well.

Y/N still didn’t know what the original plan was in the first place when getting on that wagon with Sypha and Trevor. Y/N felt it was the right thing to do. Was it the right thing to do? The question constantly whispered in Y/N’s head.

The wagon stopped one evening and Trevor suggested that they rest here and continue on to Argeis come morn. Sypha noticed Y/N’s quiet nature that evening, usually when she and Trevor were arguing or playful banter, Y/N would chime in but it seemed that entire week, her playful quips wasn’t heard as much as Sypha thought.

It concerned the Speaker and she questioned if there was anything wrong. Y/N gave off a wavered yes of being alright and told the Speaker that only the thoughts rattling in the mind was all that was wrong.

Sypha didn’t question Y/N anymore and rolled over in the wagon to get some much needed and deserved sleep. Y/N opted to sleep outside to ponder the thoughts plaguing them. Twisting and turning in the sleeping bag, didn’t help at all and Y/N sat up with a huff.

Y/N felt anxious. This wasn’t the life planned out, not like this, not alone. Well, other than Trevor and Sypha’s presence, Y/N felt alone in the Wallachian world.

Where Y/N forlorn, the color of your skin was dark and your hair was kinky and coiled. The heat of the country seemed like second nature and the many animals that roamed and only seen in that country was its own majesty.

Someone completely different than what you saw in Walachia. Y/N was born to a single mother, their father had been killed by those accursed night monsters and since then Y/N had made it their mission to become a strong dual swordsman, studying under the elders of the people under the sun and learning the medicines that would keep them alive in this world.

Y/N and Alucard’s meet was an interesting one. Their initial meeting was when the trio were on their way to Dracula’s castle and night creatures had made their appearance in Gresit where Y/N was vacating after evacuating Lupu.

Y/N was fighting off the monsters in Gresit and saved a couple of children when the trio arrived and made light work of the rest. Y/N didn’t want anyone to know that they existed and made haste to leave in the shadows to avoid the people most importantly the church.

In the past, Y/N’s mother was subjected by the church in Lupu for her darker skin. Believing that such dark skin was the skin of a demon raised from Hell to walk along humans. Y/N’s mother, a spitfire set the priest straight and told him if Devil wanted to have her raise death and destruction on Earth then he would have asked for it already.

It also didn’t help the fact that the priest’s goons would come after Y/N and Y/N’s mother, harassing them all the time and trying to run them out of town. Y/N’s mother always stood strong and fought those goons off whenever they tried to get physical; sending them back to their puppet master with their strings twisted.

So, it was no surprise when Y/N had met the trio by accidentally running into the dhampir while attempting to escape through an alley. His solid figure made Y/N’s hood fall off their head and the coils of their hair is what brought the attention of the trio.

Alucard made a comment, curious about the coils, it was almost childlike when he asked. Y/N was thrown off guard by the question and made haste to leave the area quietly but the speaker stopped Y/N asking if they were familiar with the area and where they could get a covered wagon.

Y/N didn’t answer her question and moved to leave once more only to be stopped once more, by the dhampir again. His calm demeanor and honeyed words brought Y/N’s attention to the man. At first, Y/N mind was not on talking to anyone but, once their eyes found Alucard’s gold ones Y/N was intrigued.

As a help them help you situation, Y/N was persuaded by Sypha to help them end Dracula’s murderous reign and Y/N agreed. Y/N didn’t care if Alucard was the son of Dracula, it was the fact that Y/N’s mother lived in Argeis and the thought of her killed by the creatures of the night didn’t sit right.

In the little time the four were together, it seemed that Alucard and Y/N were the first to interact with one another more than Sypha and Trevor. They could relate with one another in a way, both their mothers strong, smart and knowing that helping people no matter the ideas they had or if they didn’t want it, was deserved to anyone.

When his father had died, Y/N was there by his side to shield him from the swirling ashes of hell demons as a way to let him know that it was alright to grieve his father.

Y/N had made her decision. Staying with Trevor and Sypha was fun but, this wasn’t the life Y/N sought for.

Going to the wagon, Y/N swiped a small bag of food, just some cheeses and bread and left behind a quick note to Sypha and a little joke to Trevor’s smell then left to return to the castle.

Presently, Y/N walked up the stone steps to the large double doors of the castle and didn’t care to knock. Pushing open the doors, Y/N marveled the recently cleaned up entrance hall, the furnished red rugs were either burnt or ripped and the statues were all destroyed.

“Alucard?” Y/N calls and makes haste to the twin stairwell.

Now that they were here, Y/N needed to find the dhampir and tell him how sorry they were for leaving him behind. For leaving him alone.

“Alucard!” Y/N made their way up the two flights of stairs, searching for the dhampir.

Where could he have gone? Y/N’s mind scrambled for any explanation or idea as to where he could have gone.

“The Hold!” Y/N exclaimed and rushed down the two flights, hoping that he would not leave in time for Y/N to find him.

However, as soon as Y/N reached the entrance hall, the man of the hour was walking up the right side of the two stairwells and paused on the third step up, his eyes wide from realization of Y/N’s sudden appearance. His right hand gripped the small yellow basket and Y/N’s eyes widened then lowered in relief.

“Alucard…there you are.” Y/N sighed, grateful that he was alright and made their way down the same stairwell to see him closer.

“I was worried something happened to you, you know this castle is big as hell-”

“Y/N.” Alucard’s quiet gasp of their name made Y/N grin as they grew closer to him.

“I think being with Sypha and Trevor for too long has made you forget me, Alucard. That’s not nice. I thought we were friends? You don’t forget your friends-”

Arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist and a warm body hugged their front as Alucard sighed into Y/N’s coily hair, inhaling their scent to make himself sure that they were real and here in his arms.

“I could never forget you, Y/N…never ever.” He told Y/N. Y/N arms wrapped around him just as snug and rubbed their cheek into his bird chest, a smile gracing their lips.

“Will you stay?” His question makes Y/N look up at him and their smile grows wider as they nodded.

“Yes. I will stay.”

#castlevania #fanfiction #alucard #my writing #black reader #black!reader #adrian tepes #castlevania!alucard x reader #black oc

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pynkhues · 3 years

Note

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

#this was fun to put together #so many good fiicccss #truly a blessed fandom #beth x rio #beth boland #rio #nbc good girls #gg fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama

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antarax · 3 years

Text

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

It's late at night when Damian makes a stop by your house with the intention to confess his feelings for you.

Damian Wayne x Black!Reader, gender neutral.

Words: 2,105

AN: Happy Valentine’s to all the beautiful black people in the fandom!! I dedicate this one to all of us, who rarely get any works that include us or are actually vague enough to. Hope you enjoy it 💞

It was a quiet, cold night in Gotham. Neon city lights blurred into your room as the muffled sounds of the videogame on the old TV kept you company, the blue hue of the fluorescent lights washing over your bedroom even through half-pulled curtains.

The day had been a slow and uneventful one. For you, at least, after the hope of receiving someone's valentine had been completely blown off, the same energy manifesting itself in you as the night also dragged itself along.

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of your window opening, having had no expectations of anything more for the day –that, and the fact that it was well into the night already. You saw Damian standing outside with his hand on the window sill, a bag in the other, Robin uniform dirty and tattered as his cape fluttered violently with the breeze.

He seemed stuck in his place, as if he had been the one surprised, frowning like he hadn't expected you in your own room.

The slight semblance of a smile grew on your face, "Well, come in," you said, pausing the game.

It wasn't uncommon for Damian to stop by your building after a busy night, the moon shining beautifully in the sky and the clouds a beautiful swirl of the light as he came through your window expertly quiet. But, even then with the known comfortability and trust you two had managed to reach in your relationship, it also wasn't uncommon to feel like remnants of the younger, more insecure Damian still clung to him slightly.

Slightly as in heavily.

You watched him as he moved into the small space and set down the bag on the floor, taking off his gloves and mask with the rough delicacy you associated with him.

He stood as if he was tightly wound up, like perhaps he could breathe wrong, or whatever new, unspoken rule he'd created for himself plagued his mind now.

It was a little funny.

"I'm not going to eat you, you know?"

Damian rolled his eyes, "I'm aware."

"Doesn't look like it," You muttered, glancing down at the controller in your hands, "What's in the bag anyways?"

"I— Things."

You raised a brow.

"Food, sweets. Drinks."

"Really?"

"Yes," Damian replied, sitting down and sagging against the wall underneath the windowsill, chest rising and falling slowly as he exhaled deeply. Damian grabbed the bag again, putting it down next to you, "They're yours."

You set aside the controller and rummaged through the bag, the thoughts racing in your head. Damian knew you well and you him, your friendship spanning over a few years now. There had been a lot you'd trusted him with. Secrets, worries, embarrassing shit you'd done that still haunted you and Damian had been no different. He let you in on his bigger secret, how he carried the mantle of Robin every night. Some of his deepest remorses were ones that you had knowledge of; although never diving too deep in the murky waters of Damian’s life, you still valued the clear trust he had in you.

And along all these moments, every opportunity you've had to know each other, slowly and softly peeling aside the layers covering the people you were, a warm intimacy rooted itself in your growing friendship. A comfortable sort of intimacy.

Every once in a while you stopped by the manor on the quiet days where it was only Alfred and the animals. You helped Alfred in the kitchen whenever he was practicing for a new recipe or baking a dessert for the family later in the day. You spent hours with Damian in his room, where his cat Alfred would always curl up next to you on his bed as he worked on his art, walking around the manor or playing around with Titus and Batcow in the manor's backyard –which, really, was just an enormous open field that they were too humble to call so– and sometimes you'd even earn an invitation to dinner.

As for you, Damian tended to visit at night more so than day, but there were moments where he would show up on a sunny afternoon when everyone else wasn't home, slumping down on your couch for an hour or two before going back to his own things. Sometimes he'd drop by books he'd seen at the library, a small trinket he'd bought at the store and various other paraphernalia that, somehow, you always ended up loving.

Damian knew your taste well, and there was no doubt he'd spend countless amounts of time pondering over each of his gifts before they ever reached your hands. All things that while anyone else might have brushed over you appreciated immensely.

"You know," you began as you leaned back into the foot of your bed, ripping off pieces from a napkin you'd taken out of the bag, buying time. Hesitating, "I actually— sort of, was hoping for a valentine this year."

You gazed at Damian's eyes, your interest boring into them, digging as deep as you were allowed. They looked nervous, hilariously so. Almost like he'd been caught. But caught... doing what, exactly?

Perhaps caught in the middle of staring back at you as he'd tend to do; how he'd tend to do and assumed you didn't notice.

Or maybe caught when he would discreetly drop off something in your room or your locker after having seen it at the store or the cafeteria and knowing immediately you'd like it, always behind the guise of simple complacency. Caught, in his true intentions, what truly made him do all these otherwise insignificant things that were much too small even for somebody as detail-driven as Damian.

Olive-colored eyes still shifted uncomfortably in front of you as the sole giveaway of the true nervousness Damian was drowning in, refusing to show anything more of himself, even when it mattered.

Especially when it mattered. It was frustrating.

"You were?"

"Yeah," You shifted in your spot, "I was."

No one could ever, ever know something about Damian that he didn't share. It's just not something you could do. Not when it came to him. Anybody who knew anything at all about who Damian Wayne is, at his core in existence, knows it only because he's allowed them to.

And he'd allowed you to know this too, and yet now he was hesitating.

"You wished to have... a valentine. Anyone?"

"Anyone."

"You could have, easily, if you wanted it," Damian rolled his eyes.

"I could?" You smiled, and the twinkle in your eyes was nothing short of mischievous.

"Yes."

"Reeeally. How?"

Damian slouched against the wall, "Well, you'd simply have to ask," he said it as if it had been an obvious fact, "I'm sure anyone at the academy would've said yes."

Your smile widened as you raised your brows, "Oh?"

Damian frowned, "You are making fun of me."

"What do you mean? How."

Damian crossed his arms as you laughed.

"You think I'm making fun of you," you protested, "I'm not."

"TT."

"There's something you want to say, isn't there? Just spit it out, Damian."

Damian's eyes lingered all over the room. His hands had started to sweat a while ago and by then, his heart had sped up so much he was sure it was making some attempt at breaking through and out of his chest.

Originally, his plan had been to drop by and bring you a gift, but then he'd gotten nervous and internally malfunctioned, because he'd bought a double of everything so that you wouldn't assume it had been a gift and instead just him coming by to hang out like he always did.

He had planned to come by, tell you he'd... harbored a few unwanted feelings towards you and hoped you would have been tired enough that you wouldn't have realized it, but clearly, his plan had flipped over backwards and blown up in his face.

Damian took as deep a breath as possible with his collar putting him in a choke hold, as if trying to push out his words while simultaneously wanting to keep them buried the deepest he could.

"I— hm," He stared intently at the floor, for the first time in a while feeling like the small child who would trip over his own emotions again, but he was resolved to tell you, "I like you. I suppose."

It hadn't been surprising to Damian. More that it was hard to accept. He'd mulled over it for a long, long time. In fact, the reason he'd visited you tonight, made up his mind to tell you so, had been his ridiculously embarrassing performance.

Being surprised by petty thieves and thrown out of the loop by measly codes, none of which happen, ever, not to him at least. Damian was far above such childish mistakes, at least so he thought until he started taking a closer look at his own thoughts and realized your eyes had gone from brown to 'beautiful pools of honey', your skin a beautiful, shining shade of brown.

He was an artist, after all. He'd spent afternoons studying his environment, the shapes and colors, how everything fit in together; you were no stranger to his thoughts.

Which of course, you wouldn't know. If you had, you would have taken the jump much earlier. You would have never acted based off of assumption alone, but having the confirmation, well.

By now you had to contain your smile because surely, surely, your cheeks would be sore afterwards.

"Wow," you raised your brows in obvious mocking, "Really?"

Damian scrunched up his face in disgust, like he'd witnessed the most foul thing yet, crossing his arms tighter but refusing to meet your gaze as he turned to the wall.

"You know, Damian."

"Yes?"

"The valentine I was hoping for this year… was yours. You could've easily made a card and thrown some glitter over it and that would be the end of that."

"A card, with glitter?" Damian snapped his head at you, seeming almost bored as he spoke in a deadpan voice, "Is that how lowly you think of me?"

At this you did laugh, almost too loudly for one in the morning, that you had to push both your hands against your mouth.

Damian frowned, "Please do know that if I were to ever make something so miserable, it must be because I've been replaced. Which would not happen. Ever."

You stood, shuffling over to Damian and sitting down next to him.

He looked pretty underneath the moonlight coming through the window, the curls over his forehead looking soft and shiny.

Damian looked right into your eyes, for the first time that night not looking away, he was trapped now. Not truly, he could leave, but did he want to? Not at all.

Softly, Damian touched your hand, something perhaps akin to fear in his eyes as if he still expected rejection.

"Damian?"

"Hm?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

"Oh."

"Unless you don’t want me to."

"Please do. I mean—"

It was a shy and quick kiss, but so, so exciting as Damian's grip tightened around your hand and you leaned into him.

When you leaned away, it was with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Please do—"

Damian frowned again, clearly not amused. After a few seconds though, your laugh died out. Truth is, your stomach was churning. Because, while you were very much happy and excited, you were also incredibly nervous.

Both of you were stitching your thoughts back together, seconds of silence passing by. You were still holding Damian's hand.

He closed his eyes, frown deepening considerably and quickly before he spoke, vile spilling out of his mouth, "A card? With some glitter thrown over it?"

He looked downright furious, disgusted even.

"Seriously?"

"It's not that big of a deal," You chuckled, "Get over it."

"Hm."

Damian looked out the window, and you followed, the moon standing beautifully in the middle of the sky.

Damian sighed, "I have to go."

"Oh... okay."

He didn't move. Neither of you did.

Damian gave you a quick kiss again, looking absolutely scandalized when he pulled back. You stared at each other in complete disbelief before he stood up and started putting his gloves on again.

He pressed his hands onto the windowsill and took a deep breath.

Damian looked at you, tenderly, "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Damian." You smiled.

Damian gave you a small smile, "Hm."

You watched as he jumped off, grappling to the nearest building and laughed when you saw him standing still before disappearing into the night.

#DC #DC Comics #Batman #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Wayne x Black!reader #escritos

164 notes · View notes

jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

Duff (4)

jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now plot: you are the duff, and guys use you to get close to your bestfriend, turns out jaebum was no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your bestfriend’s unoffical boyfriend grows a/n: it so late, I'm literally seeing double rn... hope y’all like it! <3 not edited.

Life is brimming with lessons that teach you how to live without being naive and a fool.

You were already taught a few lessons by life, as it made you jump through endless hoops burning with malicious flames waiting to scorch your skin at slightest touch.

So you found it fair to hold yourself as intelligent and mature.

Therefore, you trusted your conclusion to ignore whatever happened in the elevator with Im Jaebum.

What was said, what was done; none of it mattered.

An important lesson you’ve learnt is people say and do crazy things when they are riding high a shot of adrenaline.

Jaebum’s near-death experience led him to say things that he would not on a normal day. It was only because he was scared that he did. And everyone wants to die an honest man. You were certain if it were Paul in the elevator instead of you, Jaebum might have confessed something outrageous to him too.

So that was not the reason why you were staring at the two males in front of you as they spoke absolute nonsense to you. You already knew not to take what happened in that tiny metal box seriously. Instead, it was another life lesson you knew that made you stare at them as if they had grown two heads: everything has a price.

“Not everyone gets an opportunity like this, y/n,” Paul spoke, a second away from begging on his knees.

You shook your head in distaste, this was not part of the plan. Actually, there was no plan, but if you had one, this would definitely not be it. This was not how you imagined your lottery internship to turn out.

“Paul, I am flattered the company believes me to be capable of such an important role,” you breathed, trying to keep a polite smile as your eyes bounced between the bald man and the smirking jerk. “However, I do not think I would be suitable for this role. I made it clear in my internship contract that I will not have my studies affected by this opportunity. Unfortunately, being the secretary of the -”

“I’m sorry to stop you, y/n,” Paul cut you off, not apologetic at all. You bit your cheeks to hold back a sneer. “We have thought about this through, and believe it to be the best plan of action to take right now. Mr Im is new to this company and is temporary, and while we have made a public announcement, he is still on trial.

“We could get someone in a fixed-term confidential contract, but that’s too complicated.”

Your brows furrowed as you disagreed with that, but you didn't say anything.

“The remaining time left in your contract and Mr Im’s trial period match up perfectly. You already have secretarially role in the company, so you already know the ups and downs, the tricks and tips, so we really believe this is the best way. And about your studies, the summer break began last week. However, if you believe this to be in violation of your contract, we will compensate.”

“Compensate?” You rose an eyebrow, payment would be better than slaving away for free.

“Pay you, just like any other employee,” Paul smiled happily. Finally seeing some indication of interest from your side. He added, proudly, “with all employee benefits.”

You bit your lip in deep thought.

You mentally weighed the pros and cons.

There were pros, so many pros; a better resume, money, free coffee and healthcare, etc. But the con, the big con stared at you in bold, italics, highlighted in large red fonts: you’d be working for Im Jaebum.

If this was someone else you would have said yes the moment they offered it, even without the benefits. But with Im Jaebum, things got complicated.

You weren’t sure if he could maintain the professional relationship between the two of you. And if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you could maintain it too.

Even now, with Paul standing at one end of the table, and Jaebum settled on the long side. Your mind couldn’t help thinking about how short your skirt was, and how easy it would be for Jaebum to bend you over the wooden table, and make you a moaning mess.

It would be quite difficult to maintain professionalism when you’d be spending time alone with him. Or maybe, he would use his position to make you suffer. He might end up not coming to work at all, have you do all his work, and just show up to sign and show his face.

So much could go wrong with working for Im Jaebum.

And you also had to consider the fact that you hadn’t talked to him since the elevator incident.

You haven’t been to Heather’s place, too busy with the piled up assignments all due within the last two weeks. The twenty hours of weekly internship didn’t give you any freed up time either. You didn’t get an opportunity to see Heather, or her boyfriend, Im Jaebum, to have a talk.

“Oh come on, y/n,” Jaebum smiled at you, making your blood boil instantly. This was the first thing he said to you in the past two weeks and somehow managed to be an arrogant shit-eater when he did. Your glare didn’t make his smile falter as he sang, “It’ll be fun.”

No way. You thought. There is no way you would be able to work for that self-centred, cocky, incredibly hot jerk.

“We’ll cover your fees.” Paul stopped you before the no on the tip of your tongue tumbled out. You stared at him in shock, as he looked at you expectedly.

“My university fees?” You asked, shocked.

“Yes, all of it.” He nodded.

That’s a lot.

Your eyes fell on Jaebum who smirked at you as if he had the whole entire world at his feet's disposal, and maybe he truly did. He had something similar to that power if the company was willing to go to such extents to make him stay.

The pros were really starting to outweigh the annoying, irritating con.

“Fine,” you licked your lips, with a sigh. “I’m in.”

Paul almost jumped in his place with excitement, “Thank you, y/n! Thank you so much!”

Paul walked out swiftly muttering something about going to the HR and having a contract formed immediately. Your eyes followed him as he left, remaining on the doors that closed behind him.

You could feel his gaze burning the side of your face, and it truly felt as if you were about to combust.

“What?” You snarked, turning towards him annoyed.

Jaebum just snickered as he swirled side to side, carefree, on his chair, “Why are you always so mad, love?”

You rolled your eyes getting up, “I guess this meeting is over.”

“I didn’t dismiss you, y/n,” Jaebum said, stopping his playful actions.

“You’re not my boss until I sign that piece of paper, so,” you gave him a middle finger with a tight smile before walking out the office.

You could hear his light laughter follow you, but you ignored it.

You stopped in your tracks as you remembered something and entered the room once again. Jaebum looked up at you, surprised, before smiling brightly, “Welcome back.”

You cursed yourself for returning after such an amazing exit, but there were more pressing matters than your pride.

“Have you told Heather about what happened?” You closed the door behind you, making sure no one could hear you.

Jaebum’s eyes danced with amusement, as he shrugged, drawling, “What happened?”

“In the elevator, Jaebum,” you gritted through your teeth as you stepped closer towards him.

Jaebum’s smiled only grew as he frowned with feigned innocence, “I can’t seem to remember, maybe if you could help me remember.”

His lazy gaze fell to your lips before meeting your eyes again. A spark ignited deep inside you, and you told yourself it was anger; it was an annoyance.

You clicked your jaw as you smacked your hands onto the desk, leaning over it. Jaebum watched you, carefully, not intimidated a bit, only amused.

Your eyes narrowed at him, before you smiled sweetly, “You were holding my hand and crying like a child.”

Jaebum hissed, unaffected, as he tsked, “I can’t seem to remember that.”

“Did you tell her or not?” You groaned, your annoyance at peak.

What you would do to this man if you got a chance. He wouldn’t be smiling like that, he’d be begging you for forgiveness, for release.

Jaebum smirked as if he could read your mind, “No, I didn't.”

“Good,” you nodded, gulping as his eyes watched you with unsettling darkness. “Don’t.”

He rose his eyebrow, before nodding, “As you wish, y/n.”

You turned and felt his gaze watch you as you walked out. You felt it lower, watching your hips as it swayed side to side. Your hand gripped the cool handle as your shoulders sagged slightly.

You let out a low sigh, “Thanks.”

You disappeared behind the door before Jaebum could reply.

“Babe!” Heather sang as her long limbs fell over you loosely. You laughed, as you helped her sit straight. She leaned against you again, snuggling her face into your neck as she hugged you, “I love the way you smell, baby!”

You chuckled as you patted her red matted hair soiled with glitter and sweat at the back of the Uber, “Thanks Heather, I like how you smell too.”

“Don’t lie,” you could hear her pout, and it only made you smile. “You always make fun of my feet.”

“But that’s only after the gym or a hike, Heather,” you told her, as you brushed the hair off her face.

Heather was completely wasted tonight.

She was already drunk by the time you walked into the club. Jaebum wasn’t anywhere to be found, and you found her with a group of her “friends” that you didn’t like.

They would always make her drink too much, give her a little white sugar, and let her waste her platinum card on those low lives.

You didn’t like the way the guys would touch her as she slumped back onto the couch unable to see straight. You didn’t like the way the girls sitting around would not help her, instead, encourage her to be worse.

You were mad when you were pulling her away from the crowd and towards the bathroom when you had found Jaebum. He had just got to the club himself but was ready to leave as soon as he saw the state Heather was in.

He sat on the other side of Heather, holding her purse, as Heather held you from the middle seat.

Heather mumbled something in return and you couldn’t understand it.

“By that red letterbox is fine,” you told the Uber driver as he slowed down.

Jaebum got out first, and you helped Heather onto his back before getting out. You turned to the driver, giving him a small smile, “Thank you.”

“No problem, have a good night,” he said, already accepting a new ride.

“You too,” you said, as you closed the door. You turned to Jaebum, with Heather hanging her head over his shoulder. Her long ember curls falling down his chest as he grunted and halted her up.

“Woah, stop,” Heather moaned, heaving.

Jaebum looked at you with terror in his eyes, and you laughed at him, “Come on, let’s get this party animal into bed.”

“Is this where you live?” Jaebum asked as you led him up the small walk to the door.

You snorted and shook your head, “No, this is Heather’s home.”

Jaebum rose his eyebrows, and you continued, as you unlocked the doors,

“Her parents don’t live in this house anymore, so Heather skips between here and the apartment.”

You turned the lights on and took in the home that greeted you.

“They love sure love red, huh?” Jaebum commented, taking in the red couch, red feature wall, and red details spread over the living room and kitchen.

You laughed at that, agreeing with him. The Blacks sure did take pride in their red-haired heritage, and didn’t hide the fact that it was family’s favourite colour, “Mrs Black was going through an interior design phase.”

“Thank god it was just a phase,” Jaebum snickered, making you turn to him with a pointed look as you tried to hide the smile.

“She wasn’t too bad,” you replied and began walking towards Heather’s room.

Jaebum followed behind you, grunting as he adjusted Heather on his back, “No, she was just too red.”

You rolled your eyes as you opened her bedroom door and walked towards the bed. You pulled down the covers and Jaebum gently set her down. You took off her shoes, and earrings carefully.

Jaebum didn’t say anything and just watched you as you walked around the room getting out her nightshirt, and face-cleansing products.

“Why are you looking at me, Jaebum?” You asked, not looking at him. Instead, you pumped out the cleanser on a pad and gently took off the makeup from her face.

“Is there a problem?” Jaebum asked back, making you snort.

You gently turned her face and began the other side, “Yes, it’s making me nervous. I can feel you judging me.”

He was probably thinking what everyone else seemed to think when they saw you and Heather. They never saw the whole you both had for each other, how you would do anything for one another. All they saw was Heather in all her brilliance, beauty and wealth, and you, as her second, her side-kick.

“I’m not judging you,” he replied instantly.

Something about the way he said it made you believe him. You bit your lip, as folded the dirty make-up pads and put them on the side table.

“Then what are you doing?” You took a wet towel, wiping her face. You patted it dry and misted some toner and moisturiser. You turned back and met Jaebum’s eyes that remained on you, “Why are you looking at me?”

“There’s nothing else to look at,” he simply shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the wall covered with photos of Heather through the years. Most of them had you in them, celebrating every holiday, and some photos from random days when the sun was shining brightly.

Jaebum stared at the wall as if noticing it for the first time. He got up and slowly walked up towards it. He took in the photos for a while, a small chuckle leaving him sometimes, “How did you two become friends?”

You smiled at the memory, “She saved me.”

You stared at your gorgeous friend, as she got up slightly. She searched around, her eyes disappearing as she smiled spotting you, “Oh, you’re here, y/n. I was going to the store on Wednesday.”

She trailed off, falling back into her pillow dozing off again.

“Her hangover is going to kill her tomorrow,” you turned to Jaebum with a tight smile, as you held up the nightshirt, “I’m going to change her.”

Jaebum instantly turned on his heels and walked out, closing the doors behind him.

You walked out to the smell of coffee and Jaebum sitting at the kitchen counter with two mugs in front of him. You furrowed your eyebrows as you settled on the chair in front of him, “Is this poisoned?”

Jaebum snorted rolling his eyes.

You blew the coffee before sipping it. It was still searing hot, so you placed it down on the counter, and turned towards Jaebum.

You took in his midnight hair pushed back, revealing his forehead. You didn’t know you could find someone’s forehead so sexy, but after seeing his hair down while he was at work, you had to admit it was hot. His piercings that were normally missing during office hours had returned too, a few missing.

You frowned your eyes focusing on his nose and eyebrows, “Why aren’t you wearing all your piercings?”

“It’s a nuisance putting it on and off,” Jaebum shrugged, before pointing to his lips, his tongue coming out to flick the sliver hoop, “Just wore my favourite.”

You held your breath, as the image of the cool metal against your lips, flicked by your tongue, gently tugged by your teeth invaded your mind. Your cheeks heated but you continued like nothing was happening to your body.

“Do you have piercings anywhere else?”

Jaebum smirked, “If you’re into pierced nipples, I can get them done for you.”

You groaned, a ridiculous smile on your face as you shook your head, “Can you ever have a conversation without being a prick?”

“A prick?” he gasped, “that’s a bit harsh. I would say I’m more of a flirt.”

“Oh, so you know? This is a conscious decision. You wake up every day and decide to be the bane of my existence.”

“I do wake up every morning and think of you,” Jaebum smiled at you. He chuckled, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you snorted. Jaebum simply shrugged, smiling.

Something beeped from the kitchen and Jaebum got up. You watched him walk over to the stove and turn it off. He reached for a mug before looking through the drawers for something.

You narrowed your eyes watching him, “What are you looking for?”

“Uh... a strainer?” He turned back to you, scratching the back his head. “I don’t know what it’s called.”

Your heart melted at how adorable he looked standing there, confused and unsure. The smile on his lips was so beautiful as he watched you, waiting for you.

“The second drawer over there,” you pointed, not looking at him as your cheeks tinted rosy again.

Jaebum murmured thanks, before using it to drain the liquid from the pot and into the cup, “It’s a hangover tea. My mum makes it for me every time I get too drunk.”

“You live with your mum?” You asked. Jaebum peered back at you a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, but I rarely ever get to see her.”

“Why’s that?” You frowned. The way Jaebum talked about her, the lightness in his voice and the softness of his smile, told you how much he adored his mother.

Jaebum shrugged before giving you a cheeky smile, “My house is too big.”

You laughed at that. You were not expecting that at all. You heard Jaebum’s low chuckle as you sobered up.

“What about you?” He asked as placed the cup onto a tray with a glass of water and two tablets he found next to the refrigerator. “Do you live alone?”

“Yup,” you nodded, before frowning, “Not even a pet.”

“No pets?” He asked, sympathetic.

You nodded, “I’m scared of animals. It doesn’t matter what size, or how well-trained, or what the animal is. I am terrified of them all the same.”

Jaebum gasped as if you had confessed to a murder, “What is wrong with you?”

“Wow, I thought this was a safe place,” you mumbled before taking a sip from your coffee that had cooled down. You hummed at the taste, he made good coffee.

“What about your parents?” Jaebum asked, making you stiffen. “Where do they live?”

You remained quiet.

You opened your mouth to tell him what you always told anyone who asks. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed or thought it was something to hide. You didn’t want people in your business and telling them to mind their business when they asked only piked up their interest more.

So you opened your mouth to tell him what you’ve been telling everyone for the past five years, “I don’t live with them.”

Normally you would follow up with something about living here was better for your education or future jobs. You would say something, an excuse, that was reason enough for many young people to move out of their parents home. But what you said surprised you, “I don’t talk to them anymore.”

“Oh,” was all Jaebum said. “That’s cool too.”

You peered up at him with a frown. You took in his relaxed gaze, the smile on his face just like it there was a minute ago. There was no sympathy, no pity. There was no spike in interest or anything.

He really didn’t want to pry. He didn't want to know why unless you told him. He only took as much as you could allow him.

Suddenly there was an iridescent pond shimmering in your chest. It swirled, making your whole body feel alive as you took in Im Jaebum. It felt as if your entire body was one cell, one tiny speck of dust caught in the breeze of Im Jaebum, and it didn’t mind.

You gulped, your body and mind acting quicker than you could control, “They couldn’t stand the sight of at me after they found out I was still doing something I promised I wouldn’t do anymore.”

The faces of your parents appeared in front of your eyes. The shock, anger, the disappointment on their face as they found you lying in a pool of your urine and vomit. The horror in their eyes, their desperateness as they shook your body, pleading for you to reply.

“They didn't kick me out. I left,” you ran a hand through your hair, as you let out a heavy sigh. You thought of the letter you wrote them, the way they had cried when they came to the hospital to meet you during those months, “I couldn’t hurt them anymore.”

“Do you think you would ever go meet them again?” You looked up to Jaebum watching you. You were thankful for the lack of pity in his eyes as he kept his gaze on you.

You sighed again, and it came out as a little laugh, “One day I will.”

You nodded, as you met his eyes. He smiled at you softly, and you smiled back as you scrunched your nose to stop the tears from threatening you, “When I am good enough, I will.”

“I hope that day comes soon.”

You didn’t realise Jaebum had come this close to you as you were talking. He leaned against the counter between you, his eyes intently taking you in. He folded his hands on the dark marble, his face leaning half-way over the counter.

You watched him back.

He was so beautiful.

You huffed out a smile as you shook your head at him. Jaebum instantly changed, leaning back, the playfulness in his eyes glinting once again as he rose an eyebrow in question.

“You’re not too bad, you know?” You smiled at him, before adding, “When you’re acting like a normal human being at least.”

Jaebum laughed at that before giving you a mocking smirk, “You’re not too bad yourself, y/n.”

You grinned about to say thank you, when he added, “When you’re not acting like a stick is stuck up your ass at least.”

“What an asshole,” you shook your head, laughing at him.

Jaebum beamed back, his eyes shining, “What a bitch.”

You took in the dark flecks in his eyes. You noticed their velvety blackness absorbing all light around it, but something else existed in those captivating eyes of his eyes. They didn’t get dragged away into the twilight of his gaze.

Instead, it shone brightly. It glistened, it was golden, white and sparkled like a starry night. It dragged you in, it made you want to lean close to him.

It made you want to place your lips on his and see how that shimmering halo swirled as he pulled you in closer. It made you want to reach for him, to place your hand on his soft cheeks. It made you want to walk around the counter and hug him in the middle of the kitchen littered with red embellishments.

Jaebum’s smile curled into an easy smirk as he winked at you before turning around. He picked up the tray with a cup of tea, a glass of water and Panadol, as walked towards the door the red-haired beauty was sleeping in.

Everything had a price.

Somewhere deep within your heart was a corner buried so deeply in the darkness you had forgotten it existed. The room was cold, dark, and there was nothing. Nothing except for a lone candle standing in the middle of the emptiness.

There had been nothing there for an eternity, and it was almost like magic. It almost felt like a trick of the eye, but then it happened again.

A flame, a spark, flickering at the tip of the candle; it sparked again.

This time it caught on. It burned, slowly getting brighter and livelier.

You watched Jaebum disappear behind the door of Heather’s room.

A sharp ache twisted your heart as you saw his broad back enter the dark room she was sleeping in.

The flame spreading over the wick twisted in shades of ember, their shadows dancing over the room.

You saw a word, you saw a face.

You knew the price for this feeling tugging, craving to grow bigger in your heart. You walked into the room, hidden in a deep corner of your heart. The ivory trail of your dress dragged on the dusty floor, turning brown with every step.

You didn’t look at the walls, you didn’t take in the shapes of the flames.

You took sharp, clear steps. You reached the candle, the flame reflecting softly against you. You closed your eyes, took in a deep breath and exhaled, blowing out the candle.

The flame was gone.

The candle extinguished, the room engulfed in darkness, once again.

You looked to the wall, the photo was no longer there but the image there was burnt into your mind.

The price of this feeling was too expensive.

It was too precious, and you couldn’t afford it.

224 notes · View notes

jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Wild Thing- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Request: I’m so happy you’re back!!!!Can you write a draco and Hufflepuff reader where he invites her to a slytherin common room party and she’s nervous but once she gets there she becomes great friends with his friends and has a lot of fun and he sees a new wild side of her come out and lol yeah 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Kody: Ooo party time!

Year: 7th

House: Hufflepuff

Possible Triggers/Warnings: underage drinking, some cursing, slightly mature themes.

♡~🐍~♡

you stroked the platinum blond locks of your boyfriend as he sat on your bed, reading a book. You both had been sitting in silence for awhile, basking in each others presence. “do you have any plans tomorrow, love?” Draco spoke softly, not trying to spoil the silence to much.

you shake your head almost instantly “No i’m free, why?” you give him a questioning stare. He collects the bookmark from his lap and places it in between the book pages then close it. He places it down in front of him before shifting his body to face you.

“there’s a party in the Slytherin common room and i was wondering- well hoping that you would come, so you could meet my friends because i want to show off my hot girlfriend” he grinned cheekily. You snort and reach up to playfully hit his chest.

he grabs the hand and raise it to his lips “You also mean a lot to me and so do they. I want my favorite girl to meet my favorite people” he spoke, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. A smile grows on your face at his words “Favorite girl huh?” you repeat his words.

Draco notices your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. He leans forward, placing his hand on your stomach to push you back onto your bed. You fell back onto the pillows with a playful look swimming in your E/c eyes. He leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your lips.

“you are indeed my favorite girl”

♡~🐍~♡

taking another look at your outfit, a smile graces your lips. You looked cute in your opinion and hoped Draco would like it as well. You push open the portrait of the Hufflepuff common room, spotting your Slytherin boyfriend on the other side. He turned to look at you and was stunned.

his eyes trailed down your body, taking in the wonderful sight before him. Once he made his way to your eyes, he grinned. “You look absolutely ravishing. I almost want to hide you away so no one can see you like this but me” your face flushes at his compliment. He always knew what to say to make you swoon.

“Thank you Draco. Now we have a party to go to, shall we?” you say in a mock formal tone. He uses his arm to wave towards the stairs, gesturing you to walk first. You smile and begin to make your way down the steps with Draco’s hand on the small of your back.

♡~🐍~♡

as the portrait opened you could hear music playing. Funny enough, muggle music. Draco reached down and grasped our hand, leading you inside. He led you through a crowd of Slytherins who were dancing and/or chatting it up with there fellow housemates.

he made his way into the back of the common room where three people sat on a sofa. One girl with long brown tied back in a ponytail paired with brown eyes. She was quite beautiful. The two others were tall boys with dark hair, one had there arm wrapped around the others shoulder.

You both stopped in front of them, catching there attention “Hey Dray- oh is this her!” the girl shouted excitedly, pushing off of the sofa and over to you. She studies your face before smiling brightly “Yep, your right. She’s hot” you stifle a laugh, giving her a polite smile “Thank you”

“and shes nice! Are you sure your not paying her?” the girl said, pointing a finger at Draco. He rolls his eyes “Yes i’m sure. Y/n this is Pansy and those two are Theo and Blaise. They are the grossest when they’re doing couple shit” he spoke. Both Blaise and Theo glared at your boyfriend.

“Oh shut up, hey Y/n is he all soft around you by any chance?” Blaise asked, raising a brow in amusement. You chuckle softly and nod your head. “Indeed he is. Always telling me how much he loves me and kissing me all over-” Draco put his hand over your mouth.

the three Slytherins burst into laughter as Draco’s pale face turns to a shade of light pink.

♡~🐍~♡

as you sat on the sofa in Draco’s lap Pansy comes over with a tray of shot glasses “I got us some drinks bitches!” she shouts. Blaise leans up and grabs two glasses off the tray. He sits back down and hands one of them to Theo who smiles, taking it from his hand.

“What’s in it?” Draco asked as Pansy handed him one as well as you. She takes the last glass, placing the tray on the side table “Firewhiskey” she answers quickly before downing her drink. Her face twists a bit before sighing contently “Still strong as hell” she adds, laughing.

Blaise and Theo clink their glasses before pouring the liquor down their throats with ease. “Now love, just take it slow. I know this is your first drink and...” Draco looked up at you just as you very skillfully drank the whole shot. You seemed very unbothered by the liquor.

you look down at him and smile lightly “My first what?” you asked with a innocent expression. Draco looks entirely dumbfounded and just blinks in silence. Pansy cackles and wraps an arm around your shoulder “You are incredible. You have to meet my girlfriend”

“Ginny weasley, right?” you asked and the Slytherin girl nods proudly. “Yep that’s her!” you nod with a small smile “We’re already friends” Pansy’s eyes light up “Really?! Oh we should do a double date kind of thing, right Draco- Draco, are you okay there?”

you gaze over at your boyfriend who still seems shocked by your previous actions. You tilt your head to the side and plant a kiss on his cheek, which seems to gain his attention back to reality “You okay?” you ask in a sincere tone. He gives you a reassuring smile and nods his head.

“Yeah of course”

♡~🐍~♡

the platinum haired boy watched as you and Pansy were casually drinking more firewhiskey at another sofa. “Your girlfriend is something else” Blaise spoke, making Theo laugh “I thought you said she was a innocent Hufflepuff?” Theo adds, going over to sit next to Blaise.

Draco just shrugs his shoulders “I thought so too, at least shes having fun i suppose” both of them nod. “Yeah. Anyways we know you brought you here because you want our approval which is super cute by the way, but we adore her so your good” Theo says in a cheery tone.

“What about Blaise here?” Draco asked, turning his head to them. He spots a passed out Blaise laying in Theo’s arms. “Still cant hold his liquor” the brown haired boy laughs. Draco snorts, shaking his head “yeah i can tell.” and with that Draco stands up from the couch “Let’s take him to his dorm”

♡~🐍~♡

after Draco helped Theo take Blaise to his dorm Theo decided to stay with Blaise tonight. Draco smiled and left him to find you. He walks out into the crowd to find you and Pansy dancing to the music that was playing. He found it absolutely adorable.

he made his way over to the both of you and tapped Pansy’s shoulder “Can i talk to you for a second Pan’s?” he asked. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, nodding. Both of them leave you to continue to dance to head over to the far wall.

“So, whats up?” Pansy asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “How do you feel about Y/n?” a nervous expression playing on his face. Pansy lets out a small laugh “Mate, if i was single and she wasn’t dating you i would date her” he deeply exhaled. “Thank merlin, also back off”

both of them laugh before she gives him a side hug “You picked a good one, Malfoy”

♡~🐍~♡

the party went on very well with the three of you chatting it up. You and Draco took a break from the liquor while Pansy got properly shitfaced. Draco was placing Pansy on the sofa so she wouldn’t trip over anything while standing and bust her head open.

one of your favorite songs came on and you quickly left Draco to go dance. He successfully got her to sit down before turning around to find you not by his side. He gazed around and spotted you swaying your hips to the song, eyes closed with your hands in your hair.

the Slytherin smiled to himself before making his way over to you. He walks behind you and gently places his hands on your hips. You smile instantly, your mind rendering the hands to be belonging to Draco. He presses his chest against your back as the both of you sway together.

with a cheeky smile you lay your head back on his chest and a bit of his shoulder so you could look at him. A smile played on his lips as you both danced slowly to the song. Draco leans down and plants a chaste kiss on your lips. You smile brightly, the song changing to a sensual one.

you began to very subtly move your hips against him, hearing him inhale sharply. His fingers traced the skin of your exposed stomach leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Your a wild thing, you know that?” he rasped out in your ear.

“Oh really?” you say in a amused tone. A small chuckle bubbles in his throat “Here i thought you were so innocent, but here you are. Teasing me” you grinned at his words. “Yeah, but i can tell you love it. I can feel you love it” Draco stiffens up a bit.

you laugh and turn your body to face the Slytherin “Can i stay at your dorm tonight?” you ask, your demeanour changing back to it’s sweet innocent one. Draco blinks a couple times before nodding slowly, grabbing your hand. “Yeah sure love”

♡~🐍~♡

as he opens his door both of you step in. He leans down to take off his shoes. He hears some shuffling and assumes it’s you flopping down on his bed. When he places them by his door he looks up to see you sitting on the edge of his bed without your sheer black shirt on and your belt unbuckled.

you look up at him and give him a sweet smile “Help me will you?” your tone is soft and sensual, but he noticed the playful look swimming in your eyes. He feels a warmth around his body before reaching up to unbutton his shirt, tugging it off. Your smile grew.

“Of course, darling”

♡~🐍~♡

Kody- Can we all just take the fact that i didn’t follow the request like at all. I wrote this then read the request and wanted to actually commit not alive. I’m so sorry, i got ahead of myself. Anyways, peace.

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brattybookclub · 3 years

Text

A BDSMer’s Perspective on THAT Open Heart Diamond Scene

*WARNING: Discussions of NSFW content and BDSM done properly and poorly*

Hi, this is Cath! A major area of interest to me is BDSM, and while I am still a newbie (sadly my journey into the BDSM community was halted due to the pandemic, but that aside, I’ve been doing research since I was a teenager), I was able to identify several problems with the Ethan scene, from a BDSM perspective. This is meant to criticize PB, as I feel that this shows arrogance on their part, and that they just saw the Chapters ad for “Hard To Master” and decided “Hey, we should do that too!” (This will be kind of long.)

Something I didn’t see much discussion on was the fact that towards the end of the scene, Ethan says, “I’ve just never met someone whose appetites could match my own.” Meaning, Ethan has ZERO hands on BDSM experience. And neither does MC. Most of my criticism comes from the fact that neither of them is actually experienced. Hell, I have more experience than they do, and I’m a college student who has to save up for my kink gear, including collars. Yes, a top can practice alone on themselves, but Ethan and MC do very little negotiation. Most of the communication is taking place during the kinky activities, which there’s nothing wrong with, that works for some people, but it seems like the safeword was just there for decoration, and the diamond scene doesn’t really live up to “dark passion”.

When I saw that the scene was in the chapter, obviously I did not buy it, but I was shocked and kind of upset because the way PB marketed the scene was that it was some dark taboo activity where Ethan lets out his inner beast. This isn’t the case. I’m going to start from the beginning here. The context is that Ethan has just demonstrated that he cannot be trusted to maintain the integrity of an important medical study that could lead to breakthroughs in the industry. He showed arrogance and disregard for ethics. This is the backdrop for him asking to dominate MC. Just based on that, MC should say no. BDSM can be an escape from a frustrating day, to regain or give up control, but if one of my partners was going to lose their job, I would not trust them to dominate me that day. If Ethan is in this bad of a headspace, he could hurt MC during their activities (and not in the fun way) and make it worse. Second, HE ASKS AT THEIR JOB, WHERE HE IS MC’S SUPERIOR. The ethics of boss/employee relationship aside, that is blind to the power dynamic built into their workplace. This is the only point PB gives you the choice to consent until later, during the activities. In my opinion, this fucks up the Consent aspect of Safe, Sane, and Consensual, while Ethan’s current headspace and his actions prevent it from being Sane.

I know so many people have said this before me, but the way Ethan says what he wants is probably the grossest way of saying that. “… I need to feel in control of myself… and of you.” Ethan, you are in control of yourself. And saying that he “needs” to feel in control of MC… No. No, no, no. Submission is a gift that you do not take lightly, and must be given voluntarily. You do not ask someone for it without discussion first. And there is no discussion of what MC’s submission style is? Is MC a service submissive, are they a brat, are they a little? What if MC is a top or likes to be dominant? Nor does Ethan discuss what style of dominance he is into. Now that I think about it, there’s not a lot of power exchange. But it’s not just a top/bottom style activity either… Does PB know that you can participate in kinky activities with no power exchange, and that you can do power exchange without pain? It feels like they’ve just lumped all of it together. This scene fails to have any sort of distinct identity. It smells of a couple trying to spice it up in the bedroom and only reading about BDSM off of Cosmopolitan and Buzzfeed, and not really knowing what they’re doing.

As soon as MC and Ethan get to his place, he decides to pour you both some scotch. NO. NO, NO, NO NO. I have been to a discussion amongst EXPERIENCED kinksters about whether dungeons or events should offer alcohol, and it’s controversial because things can go wrong in a PUBLIC kink setting. For inexperienced people, especially with how bad Ethan’s headspace is at this time, and the fact that he claimed he wanted to “feel in control” of MC and himself, he should NOT be touching any alcohol. And over the drinks, Ethan and MC can discuss the events of the day when they could be, I don’t know, talking about what they are about to do??? Because MC has no idea what Ethan’s intentions are, exactly. Later, Ethan gives MC choices for what they can do; either he ties them to the bed, spanks them, or he decides (on all the playthroughs I have seen, Ethan deciding leads to him spanking MC). But they are already in the kink scene. You know how you should never go grocery shopping hungry? Well, you shouldn’t make kinky decisions, especially as a newbie, when you’re horny. They could have used this time to discuss if either of them has experience, and I must repeat, you don’t find out that Ethan has none till after you two finish. Ethan doesn’t tell MC any risks of what they do; if they might be bruised by anything he does, or if something will hurt after they finish. This is not following RACK; Risk Aware Consensual Kink. MC is not able to give informed consent. There’s also no discussion of limits or pain tolerance and… good fucking lord, this is a setup for shit going wrong.

So anyway, after their discussion of the day’s events, and Ethan’s feelings, MC assures him that they don’t want tender (hey, PB… BDSM can be tender!!! Also affectionate, loving, and sweet!!!!) so Ethan gives them a leather body harness and tells them to meet him in the bedroom. My initial reaction was, “How did he have their size, and how did he have that on hand?” I did some research, a lot of body harnesses are adjustable. Still pretty weird that he just had a women’s body harness on hand with no experience. I mean the men’s kind of makes sense because maybe he’s a switch, and as far as the handcuffs and riding crop despite no experience go… a lot of people hoard adult toys without using them much in case they do get the chance.

After MC puts on the harness, they meet Ethan in the bedroom and he asks them to pick a safeword. The default is “Free Healthcare” which fucking sucks as a safeword. The universal safeword is usually “Red” because of the traffic light system. When telling MC not to shy away from using it, he says, “You’re in control just as much as I am.” Uhhh… Who’s gonna tell him that the submissive has all the control? They decide what they consent to. The dominant operates within that. Also the part about, “This isn’t just about giving me what I need… It’s also about giving you what you want.” Yes… but also no. The dominant does not “need” their partner’s submission. It’s them mutually wanting what the other is willing to give. Also the “need” vs “want” feels… icky. So, so, icky.

From there to the options Ethan gives MC isn’t bad. I’ve had at least one of those exchanges in real life because it doesn’t feel cringe in the moment. Since MC and Ethan didn’t negotiate before the scene, I guess Ethan giving MC two options of what he can do to them, or he will decide between the two options if they want him to, isn’t that bad. I just think it would have been much better had there been communication beforehand since MC hasn’t done anything like that before. Thankfully it’s opt-in as opposed to opt-out, because opt-in is recommended for partners who are new to each other.

“Tie me to the bed.” Option: Ethan will muse about whether he should do rope or handcuffs. Maybe he has practiced with rope alone in the past and knows what he’s doing… But MC does not know this!! Mercifully, he picks handcuffs. Thank god he uses leather cuffs. PB has used metal ones in the past and those have all sorts of safety issues if they are not double-locking. PB is super vague about the setup so I’m a little confused about how he can be going down on MC then pull the chains of the cuffs so their back is against the headboard?

“Spank me.”/ “Choose.” Options: Ethan will get a riding crop, which is not at ALL recommended for newbies. I’ve actually had a friend demo a riding crop on my back, when I was fully clothed, but newbies are usually advised to either a) start off with a plain open hand spanking or b) test out how the implement feels by having the receiving partner rate the pain from a scale of 1 to 10 so one can get a feel for their pain tolerance, and how it changes as they are spanked longer. In my experience, it’s important to start out lighter especially with newbies. AND YET. “The first smack of the crop against your bare skin almost ends the game before it’s started.” NO NO NO. STOP STOP STOP. MC can barely take the first hit??? The first one should not push you to your limit, especially when it’s your first time. You may be wondering if riding crops actually sting that much. They don’t have to. It depends how much force you use. Side note, it is important for the top to know what each toy they are using feels like. Whether that means bottoming or testing the toy out on themselves, this makes sure they maintain empathy for their bottom. Anyway, MC gets hit by the riding crop like twice before this option converges with the sex part of the diamond scene. Really PB? You couldn’t at least say that the swats “rained down” or something? Two super intense hits is no fun compared to less intense spankings that last longer. In fact, if you change toys for different sensations, you can usually last longer, since the area gets more sensitive as you go along.

Anyway the sex happens. Ethan says, “Tell me what you want.” Which creates the options:

“Safeword/Free Healthcare” (God PB that’s so cringey, I get it’s a medical drama but just use Red!!!) Option: It instantly stops, Ethan is concerned, MC assures him that they just know their limits, which, good for you MC!! It’s not easy to safeword even when you want/need to. Though, I raise an eyebrow at the fact that you can safeword during the actual sex, as opposed to being tied up or spanked. I would think those would be where a person would be more likely to need to use their safeword especially if they are new to these activities.

“Harder.” Option: Gets more intense after Ethan asks if MC is sure. Goes into Ethan trying some orgasm control. Yay. Don’t see why this whole scene couldn’t have just been rough/wild sex since I’m pretty sure PB has done that before.

“Just like that…” Option: I think we can all guess what happens here.

I’m gonna fast forward through the rest of the sexcapades because there’s nothing interesting or worth critiquing. Safewording makes sure you skip all the rest of the scene and then it’s MC and Ethan in bed, him holding MC. I don’t want to say, “PB didn’t include aftercare!!” because cuddling is a lot of people’s aftercare, but I wish they’d talked about it more. Like Ethan asking if MC needed water or get out of the body harness, or some lotion or aloe vera for their butt if they got spanked. Or him checking their wrists if they got tied up. These are important things for aftercare, and while not everyone needs aftercare for every kind of activity, it’s important to talk about ahead of time, or communicate after the activity. Aftercare helps both parties come down gently from a high that you can easily just have an unpleasant drop from. I’ve gotten emotional after impact play. Some people feel guilt for inflicting pain on someone. Aftercare is necessary for the dominant or top as much as it is for the bottom or submissive, and I wish PB was as good about including that concept as they were about the safeword.

Anyway while they’re cuddling, MC and Ethan have the conversation where it leads to Ethan saying he’s never met anyone whose appetites match his own. While this might be acceptable for someone who lives in a small town… Ethan lives in Boston, Massachusetts. When looking up BDSM dungeons in Boston, I found two dominatrixes, and like three pages that talk about possible BDSM groups. And that’s not even checking on fetlife. Ethan simply didn’t want to look for like-minded people, and that’s on him. He could have found classes to help him learn how to do everything properly and safely, and maybe some friends. More people are kinky than you think!!! People in the community love it when new people join the community and express a desire to learn.

MC spends the night, and in the morning their sprite is STILL wearing the body harness. PB THOSE CANNOT BE COMFORTABLE. Like especially if it’s as fitted as they describe, how can MC still be wearing it?? Especially with them sweating on the leather??? Not going to lie, I laughed when I saw that oversight.

And that’s the end of the scene. Alright. The scene is not good. But it’s not Fifty Shades of Grey bad. I get the jokes and the comparisons, and while PB is arrogant, much like EL James, PB isn’t THAT bad. MC is clearly into the BDSM, which Anna clearly was not in 50 Shades. PB did a little bit of research, but I find it pretty obvious that aside from dirty talk, they have almost no experience actually getting into kinky activities, nor do they participate in the community.

I really hate how they acted like, “Ethan’s in dark mood…” but didn’t commit to that. Also how they didn’t really commit to portraying BDSM accurately. It’s kinky looking if you aren’t in the kink community, but to me, it’s vanilla pretending to be edgy and kinky. PB didn’t really commit one way or the other. They seemed to just use some iconography (excluding collars, surprisingly… that’s really easy to add??) and a little bit of kink, then set it aside and called it a day. This seemed to be there for the shock value. Going into the scene, I felt like SCC was being broken, but in the midst of the scene was a very different tone from what PB was acting like was going to happen. Ethan felt very different going into the scene as opposed to during it. I feel like this is what happens when you have to market kink to a mostly vanilla audience. Anyway, if you want a really great educational youtube channel, Evie Lupine is doing the lord’s work as a BDSM educator. Thank you for reading this 2500+ word rant from a kinky nerd.

#playchoices #open heart #choices oh #choices open heart #choices ethan #choices ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #choices ethan x mc #ethan choices #play choices #submission

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rouiyan · 3 years

Text

𝘗𝘜𝘓𝘓 𝘔𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 [ 𝘯.𝘫𝘮 ]

⧏ jaemin’s installment of the undone at twenty-one collective ⧐

synopsis: one estranged at the hands of love and the other tethered to his reputation. it's no wonder they find solace within each other.

✧ bartender!na jaemin x (fem.) reader (ft. ex!mark) ✧ college au, almost fwb au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 15.5k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurities, anxiety attacks, mentions of sex (no explicit smut, as per usual)

✧ author’s note — i'm so sorry to do this to you guys on a weekly, i swear, dropping double digit k fics is not normal and has definitely fucked with my sleep schedule ++ i hit 127 followers on thursday! for a total of four minutes but it was cool while it lasted! thank you!

maybe it all started when na jaemin got the job at the bar. it certainly didn't suit him, not the sweet boy he was, keyword on 'was.' he'd taken a course on bartending over the summer between senior year high school and his first year of college, just for fun until he realized he could actually use his license to get a job that paid slightly above minimum wage. maybe, it all started when he'd seen a classmate at the bar, a pretty girl at that, who'd smiled in a way that could only be classified as flirtatiously. maybe that's what had jaemin winking back, for the first time in his life. maybe that's what got him laid later that night. and maybe that's how he started to identify as more of a fuckboy than a heartthrob. it was a far out though new feeling, he thought. high school jaemin could never, he thought.

but maybe it all started to come to an end when you walked into the bar for the fourth time that week, eyes rimmed red and breath already tinged with alcohol. you ordered a draft beer from him, something light to keep you slightly buzzed but not completely knocked out. the hands of the clock were nearing two in the morning and the bar, especially the area of the counter he was tending, was beginning to empty out. jaemin struck conversation once you were the only one left and seven minutes before his shift ended.

he realizes, again, that you have zero recollection of him though he'd also struck conversation for the three nights before.

"how was your day, miss?"

you look up, head propped on your right hand, hand propped up with your elbow. "me?" slightly wary, you sit upright in front of the guy behind the counter. his smile never falters when he nods. you blink twice before remembering to respond, "i- no, i mean, today was okay," you slouch back into yourself, "a little less than okay, actually." the bartender's eyes widen in consideration, remembering that you had stopped at just 'okay' for the past days he'd asked you. he takes from this to offer politely, "do you mind if i ask what happened?"

your eyes are focused on the sink behind him, distractedly. almost forgetting to reply, you gather your thoughts by clearing your throat and pondering for a few moments before beginning to speak, hesitantly, "well it's like when you just know something bad's gonna happen, and you know for awhile. then it does happen and you don't get to be surprised or shocked because you already knew. so all you're left to feel is just," you heave a sigh, "sadness, or maybe even regret."

the metal nametag pinned to his chest glints in the lights above as he moves forward to place his elbows on the counter, leaning casually. you notice it to spell out 'jaemin' and a part of your subconsciousness is trying to make you remember that you know this guy. you know him from school, from rumors, from your gossiping friends, you know him from the bar even. but all you're able to process is that he is one hell of a good-looking specimen.

jaemin's eyes glint in the light as well when he poorly guesses, "did bad on a test? late homework assignment?" laughing and completely missing the fact that this 'stranger' had correctly assumed you to be a college student, you shake your head, "if it were either of those, i'd be awfully dramatic for coming to a bar and drinking my days away instead of studying." he's laughing as well and you can't help but think that his smile, straight pearly whites and all, is probably the most welcoming sight your eyes have laid upon the whole day. picking the conversation back up, you decide that it probably wouldn't do much harm to indulge jaemin in the latest and breaking news of your life. "actually, i was dumped today."

he sucks in a long breath in understanding, licking his lips, "so, a bad breakup. those aren't too fun." agreeing, you shake your head. the atmosphere is good-natured when you quip, "would it be worse to say that it was the eighth time too?" jaemin's brows shoot up in surprise and he pushes himself off his elbows, shifting his weight onto his hands. "eighth? as in eighth breakup or eighth time you've been dumped?" a chuckle escapes your complexion, giving way to how vulnerable you were feeling, vulnerable to a laughable extent. your eyes are cast downward when you respond, "the second."

jaemin pries in a way that doesn't seem like prying, you wonder how he does so. "care to share?" it's possible his range of bartender-ly duties extends to the likes of a therapist, "i mean, i don't see why not." you quirk your lips, the only thought coursing through your mind consisting of how the bridge of his nose was so carefully structured and how oversharing with this man didn't seem so much of a bad idea. you were, after all, far too caught up in your drunken stupor to think anything otherwise.

"let's see, i was ghosted by my first boyfriend in ninth grade, cheated on by my second, figured out that my third was only dating me for a bet, fourth just straight up stopped liking me, fifth lied to me about his age, objectified by my sixth, thought i was dating my seventh but turns out he forgot he asked me out, and my eighth...well, that one's a bit different."

he's back on his elbows, in intriguement and also due to the new song that began to play from the speakers above, louder than the last, "how so?" you're afraid the feelings are going to pour back within your forefront thoughts so you keep your answer short, "we dated for two years."

"and?"

you're quiet for a few moments. those moments are taken to mull over the exact reasonings behind your shitty day, almost as if you had forgotten. blinking slowly, the dryness of your contact lenses becoming apparent, you respond hesitantly, "and, he said he didn't see a future with me. that i could only ever be his first love."

jaemin seems to mull over this as well, "and did you see a future with him?"

you haven't looked up at him in a while, instead, focusing your sights on the way you've let your acrylics grow out far too long, how the skin around your nails is peeling, and how your palms are also creased with dry lines. using the same hand to lift the bottle from its handle, you toss the rest of its contents down your throat, swallowing in one motion. setting it back down, tongue grazing over your lips to catch the spilt extras, you look jaemin in the eye.

"yeah," you move to collect your things, "i guess i did." you pay. you take your leave.

he sees you again the following day, for the fifth time in that single week and he's led to wonder if there is a reason you seem frequent this one bar. the atmosphere possibly, the customer service maybe, or even him, though he's doubtful.

this time you're accompanied by two friends, one he knows to be jeno's best friend, eunmi, and the other, the crush of that same friend, jaein. jaemin's known eunmi for as long as jeno has, since the beginning of high school. jaemin also knows that eunmi, as of the late, doesn't like himself all that much. he figures it has something to do with the bit of a reputation his name now carries.

jaemin thinks the girls are by your side for emotional support. perhaps, today proved even shittier than yesterday, but he's thwarted a few moments after when the three of you seem to be lost in the depths of interesting conversation, light-hearted laughter, and glasses that can't seem to fill themselves as fast as they empty into your stomachs, except for jaein, that is, but especially for you.

it's 12:48 in the morning when he's thrown off guard for the first time that night, in the midst of whipping up a whiskey for the grumpy man down the counter, eunmi falls asleep, literal in the sense that she really does fall and would've completely sagged into the ground if the table had not been in gravity's way. jaemin watches as jaein lifts the poor girl's head off the surface, revealing an angry red splotch, and transfers eunmi's weight onto her lap.

he's thrown off guard for a second time at 1:22, watching you stand straight from your seat, swaying a tad bit, but brows creased in strong will and determination. you're walking towards him, steps that would be quick if only you were even mildly aware of sidestepping the paths of others. you pant as you reach the table, head feeling a little too hot and too heavy to aid in clear thinking. squinting at him, though you were but a few feet away, "your name. what's your name again?"

jaemin repeats the actions you'd done yesterday, slightly wary in expression and checking his posture, "me?" you don't reply but continue to scrutinize the way he looks. he supposes that's just as much of an answer, "it's jaemin, i believe we talked yesterday." your mouth parts in recognition and moves as if to form a word or two in response. jaemin watches as it opens and closes again and, even after much deliberation, the only thing you can find to say is, "well, you're fucking hot."

"oh-"

"shit, didn't mean to say that aloud." your lips smack in embarrassment, shifting your weight to your left foot. your mind is yelling at you to sober up, to save your face.

a smile adorns the man's features as he bemusedly remarks, "i'm sure you didn't." there's a silence that hangs between the two of you, and you're on the cusp of excusing yourself from further embarrassment when jaemin blurts out, "if it helps, i think you're fucking hot too." it might just be the alcohol in your system that's making the heat rise in your countenance but you swear you blush, and you never blush!

fingering the lobe of your right ear, you fumble with your thoughts until settling on a quiet, "thanks." jaemin busies himself with swiping a rag across the counter, unaware of the awkwardness on your end. looking up, he offers, "would you like a drink?" nodding, you take a seat at the bar in front of him, eyes slipping back to the girls for a split second, only to see jaein on her phone and eunmi still asleep. returning your sights, you're met with a slight humor traced in jaemin's expression, "what?"

he lets out the smallest of chuckles, mouth moving but lacking words, sentences starting but never ending, until he finally makes himself clear. "you- would you mind ordering a drink then?" your hand comes up, as if you had a point to make, but returns into your lap as you realize you'd never elaborated. "oh," your hand resurfaces to massage your temples, "same as yesterday then."

jaemin doubts you even remembered what you'd gotten yesterday but goes on to fill a bottle of beer from the kegs behind him. you're staring at his back in wonderment at how lackluster in...social interactions you'd become, how lackluster in flirting you were. you guess two years of being cuffed would render anyone a little rusty. hell, it wasn't as if you were keen on flirting with every hot guy you saw but jaemin, not that you remember much, gave off the right feeling after a wrong relationship. that was surely a green light, right?

"here," he slides it across the counter with a wink, entirely out of habit. you wince at that, "ew no, don't do that around me, i'm not one of your fuckbuddies." retying his black waist apron, he replies with a, "right, you're not." he pulls a neat bow in place and sets his hands back on the counter, there's a lilt to his voice when he speaks, "but, if you ever feel like you need-"

you wave him off, "i'm good, thanks for the offer though."

he watches you chug the draft beer. nodding, he replies under his breath, more to himself than anything, "i see." you finish the bottle in no time but it looks as if you were to vomit, or pass out, or maybe even black out, or all three at once. jaemin really does not mean to spur your flirtatious gene as much as his own but seeing you like this he offers, "it's on the house." you're definitely surprised for a good half of a second but in the other half, you drunkenly lean across the table, so far so that jaemin's nose is but a few inches away from yours.

something in jaemin stirs. the stench of your breath, your hardened eyes, the delicate lines of your lips. jaemin finds that it isn't lust that rumbles beneath his carefully built expression. and though it might as well be some form of pity, he doesn't hesitate to take your phone from you when you ask, "can i have your number?" he doesn't mind the smile that graces your face as you take your phone back, as you turn around to head back with your friends, not even in the right mind to say a goodbye, and even as you exclaim, rather loudly, to jaein, "i got his number," a smile of his own is quick to light up his face. but na jaemin hides his silly smile and even himself a little later when jeno appears to drive the three of you home. he even goes so far as to hide the smile and the meanings behind the smile from himself, afraid that he'd uncover something that was very un-bartender-ly of him to feel for a customer. at least, that's what happens before he ends his shift.

when you first wake up, it's at the sound of the door of your room clicking shut. jaein, you suppose, you'll thank her later. the ceiling is oddly comforting after a week that just didn’t start well, go well, end well. love isn’t your forte, loving yourself, loving others, anything to do with love. you supposed that getting dumped the seventh time would have made that quite obvious but you just had to throw yourself out there again, just to make sure. you fall once again to sleep that night with nothing on your mind other than the thought that you might as well be single for the rest of your life.

but you wake up in the love, not of a lover per se, but of a best friend. the post-it note on your bedside reads, text me when you wake up!, and the smile that lifts your face is instantaneous. jaein has never failed to care for you, despite being almost a year younger, and in that way and many others, you feel indebted to her.

you fail to recall any of the events of the night prior, though if anything horrendous happened you knew jaein would be more delighted to share. you stumble across your phone somewhere in the sheets after searching aimlessly and you decide that making a call would perhaps be more thoughtful than a measly text. but as you scroll through the names in your phone, upset that you didn't have jaein's contact pinned in your favorites, you stop, well, your heart stops because right below her contact is listed na jaemin.

you are two thoughts away from crossing over to tap the shoulder of the girl a little ways in front of you, her silhouette a great deal similar to jaein's, when a hand is placed on your own shoulder. you don't have a chance to turn and see who it is because that hand has traveled a little ways across your front, latching from one shoulder to another and bringing your body flush with his. you tilt your head to get a glance, only to find jaemin smiling down at you, the strobe lights glaring a brief red across his features. "been avoiding me?"

yeah no shit you've been avoiding him, suddenly nowhere to be found at the bar you used to appear at every single day of the week. and though the two of you attended the same college, you made extra sure to-

"jeno told me eunmi asked him for my lecture schedule for you, wonder why." a smirk grazes his lips, playfully. he’s grinding on your ass now, slow compared to the music blasting from overhead. taking your shoulder in his hands, he spins you to face him, "why are you avoiding me? tell me." jaemin places a hand on the curve of your neck, brings you closer to him, either so that he could hear your response better or because of whatever lust was running through his eyes. somehow, even with the minuscule amount of alcohol in your system, you can’t bring yourself to mind that he’s looking at you like some starved animal.

"what do you want, jaemin?" he doesn't hesitate to show you, a lazy kissed pressed to your lips before leaning in towards your ear, "i want you in my bed."

no objections are made when the arm around your shoulder tightens its hold, so as not to loose you in such a crowd. nothing is said in opposition when he ushers you towards the stairwell, brushing past people left and right. no sign of reluctance is apparent when you cross the threshold of his room, shutting the door behind you. and not a trace of hesitance is found as you find a spot beside the man who's already placing a strand of wide kisses onto your neck.

"what'd you say about not being one of my fuckbuddies the other day?"

"well," you hastily move to straddle him, allowing him to a wider expanse of your chest, "i was drunk, fuck whatever i said." you lean back for the slightest of seconds to catch his expression, lust lined his eyes. certainly, you felt like one of his fuckbuddies now but maybe this is what you need, a distraction. just one thing in your life, one time, one moment in time where it wasn't so frustratingly shoved up in your face that your world, your one love, hadn't been torn down right before your eyes. maybe kissing jaemin with such raw desire would finally give you the reigns over your goddamned emotions. his lips on your collarbone, tracing down slower and slower onto your breasts, his hands guiding you lower and lower into his bed, it felt exhilarating. in that one second, when his fingers moved to the hem of your dress, eyes shifting to meet yours in question, you nod fervently because really, you want to let him in, you feel safe letting him in.

but it only lasts for that one second because the door is burst open in the next, and a tipsy man and a wasted woman are storming on inside, eyes raking the place until they land on you and yours land on theirs, on his. mark lee. it's mark lee's eyes and as you take in the sight of the rest of him, the familiar him, and the girl by his side, suddenly nothing has ever felt more wrong. jaemin's lips, his hard on pressing against your core, nothing has ever felt more wrong when mark lee is staring right at you. why is it that you feel like you've cheated on him?

he leaves, pulling the woman behind him.

the party is alive, it's at its height, it's roaring and it's ravaging fun. the party is in full swing yet, for once, you're not partaking in it. "are you okay? do you need some water?" you lick your lips and decide, "some water would be nice, thank you." jaemin leaves the room, door clicking shut behind him and signaling your immediate breakdown.

a shudder passes your lips, reverberates down your spine, curls your toes. you draw into yourself, bringing with you jaemin's blankets on which you were sat. there is nothing more that leaks from your countenance than bouts of undisturbed anxiety that you let wrack your walls of understanding and awareness. you don't bother to fight back with distractions, no alcohol this time, no quick fucks, nothing to ease the weight that settles in your gut, presses down your heart and blurs the visions of jaemin's room.

he returns in seven minutes, promptly enough, for you're just about to wither in the confines of loneliness. the blankets are pulled taut around your figure and your head is in between your knees, mind flitting between images of mark and images of the darkness that threatens to envelop you whole. jaemin places the cup of warm water on the nightstand and dips the bed to your right though you barely register his presence until his hand begins kneading lines down your back.

the feeling returns. the one you know all too well by now. the one where the skin on your forehead feels too tight from being scrunched in frustration for too long, when your brain feels like it doesn't belong in your skull, when you feel ruptures in your heart, aches in your soul, as if you were to combust if you so much as moved in the slightest. your ragged breaths echo in your head, over and over, as if to remind you that you aren't okay, that nothing is real, that the only thing keeping you alive are your breaths, the only thing between life and death.

your breaths are also what grounds you, focusing on the in and out, the way the air fills your lungs, the way it exits. your hands begin to mellow their shake and you begin to gain some semblance of your being. you feel that jaemin is all around you. he's everything you smell, his breaths are all you hear, his lean body and arms are all you feel, and though you can't see him, you know he's there.

he's there when you turn in his embrace, looking up at him with eyes that tell age-long tales of hurt from delivering too much passion whilst receiving near to none. he's there when you wrap your arms around him, head tucking into his chest. he's there when your breaths even and he's there when you tell him you can't fall asleep.

jaemin hands you a set of his clothes, a light shirt and sweatpants, and ushers you gently into the bathroom. you change without looking in the mirror, afraid of what you'll see. he tugs you by the hand, once you're out, to the car. you only question him thirty minutes into the ride, "where are we going?"

he doesn't quite answer you, "if i'm right, we should be just in time." scrunching your nose in the darkness, "just in time for…?"

it's then that he turns into a dim parking lot and suddenly everything becomes clear when the wide screen comes into view, "jaemin...you 50's romanticist." the time is almost four in the morning, you didn't know the local drive-in theater had screenings that early and you're surprised that the man in the driver's seat knows. he offers you a hand and you take it, absentmindedly.

the movie is interesting enough to keep your begrudging thoughts away until an hour or so passes and you're beginning to teeter from exhaustion. before you have a chance to pass out, jaemin gives your fingers a little squeeze, alerting you, and then slowly tugging you over the middle console of his car and into his lap while lowering his seat. again, you comply absentmindedly, you're in no mindset to be complaining.

straddling him for the second time that night, you sigh into his chest. your eyes are fluttering closed when you begin to trace back the moments that brought you to this mess in the first place, the events that led to you in na jaemin's lap, the boy renowned in bed. you're a conscious thought away from voicing aloud your hatred of love. fucking love.

the prospect of love is addicting to you, like a drug in many more ways than one. you want to get lost in someone's eyes, you want to swim in the embrace of your other half, you want to be able to romanticize every aspect of your life, to be able to attribute your everything to one single person who would do the exact same for you. you can't part with the thought that love isn't for you.

and you know that there really are people who live just fine being single, people who don't feel the need to share their every joy and letdown with a special someone, people who feel enough just being in their own company. you know that yet, you're fully convinced you just aren't one of those people. because no matter how hard you want to say that getting left in the dust for the eighth time became the turning point in this endless chase, you can't see yourself ever stopping. there is not a single part of you that wishes to stop.

your breaths are shallow and brimmed with sobs as you drift into rest. above all that's been said, the least you can admit is that love is only a feeling. just like any other.

✧ ONE (01) YEAR AGO

"mark, what the fuck, we never go on actual dates." you complain, though you really don't mind all that much. the car pulls into a parking spot in front of the library, "and who's to say study dates aren't actual dates?" he opens the door for you and you roll your eyes graciously.

the two of you take your usual spots, the two at the end of the long row in the central area. it's halfway secluded, one side shoved against the wall, but still enough in the open to keep you guys from entirely ditching school work and talking until shushed by a librarian.

he's about to say something when a librarian appears just around the corner, pushing a cart of books. so instead, mark takes a piece of lined paper from his notebook, gently ripping it at the edge, taking his pen out and writing a line and passing the note to you. i'll take you somewhere nice next time. sorry babe, i just happened to have a lot of work today.

you press your lips together, eyeing the man that was eyeing you back, okay, my love. you pass it back, shooting him the most playful of smiles. he writes quickly and when he slides the paper back to you, you read his words quickly. sure thing, my world.

you giggle, the sound eliciting a glare from the stressed schoolmate beside you. quickly you jot down the words you've been wanting to say to him. fine by me, my future. you shuffle the paper towards the man across from you, unwilling to hide yet another smile that spreads across your face. you watch as mark takes the paper in his hands, skims the words you've carefully penned and then, he puts it away, tucks it into the front of his backpack. you smile fondly at him for safekeeping the paper, thinking he'd want to keep it as a little memento, a token of your love for him.

perhaps you should've thought a little more about it, the action, because in that moment it never occurred to you that he only put it away because he didn't want to respond, he had nothing in his heart that he could say to top that, and he most certainly did not see you as anything more, much less his future.

that lined piece of paper has long been discarded by now, in the most literal and figurative sense. mark could chalk it up to the possibility that it was just the right person at the wrong time but he knows there's absolutely nothing wrong with the time. college was going to zip by quickly for the two of you, you guys could move in together maybe, tell each other about your new jobs, every pay raise you got, and when you guys begin to settle down, a house would be bought and a ring would be proposed, and kids and old age would follow. somehow, mark can't help but acknowledge the fact that it simply was the wrong person at the right time. deep down, he knows it's always been that way for him. not for you. and he could only hope to turn back time and tell you a little sooner, maybe lessen the pain he knew he was to eventually inflict upon you. two years was two years too long. mark’s a nice guy and the weight of being your eighth breakup had a tough hold on him, it really did.

✧ PRESENT

you lift your feet up onto the other side of the booth, back against the window and your arrangement of your textbooks and computer to your left. jaein, studious as ever, looks up at you for a brief moment, "break? already?"

it's only been thirty minutes since the two of you arrived with the set intentions to study. "yup, already." you sigh, with everything going on, it's hard to pay attention to just one thing. especially something that seems so insignificant in the whole scheme of things. "y/n, are you getting enough sleep these days?"

you look over at her, her hair swept into a small ponytail, eyes holding the stars. jaein had her own fair share of problems, especially when it came to boys, but she never halted to care for herself. you wish you could be like her. "enough, yeah i'm getting enough." she puts down her pen, wrinkling her nose, "well then, make sure to get more than enough, yeah?" you only nod in response.

jaein's eyes rome until they settle upon a girl a few tables down, also studying. she cocks her head in inquisition, "hey, isn't that minyoung?" you wait for jaein to look away before you take a peek behind you, not wanting to seem conspicuous. you know her, you share some of your professors with her, you see her almost everyday, but you've never been riled up by just her presence being in the same room as yours. you look back at jaein, "yeah, that's minyoung."

"minyoung as in the girl that jaemin's datin-"

"they're not dating," you intercept. sighing in distaste, you follow up to cover your evident aversion of the girl, "just fucking around." jaein only nods, eyes wide in worry.

a few minutes pass and you're already sinking back into your workload when she speaks, "does it bother you? that they- they're fucking around?" now, you're sinking into yourself because you really have no idea what you're supposed to be feeling, how you're supposed to be feeling, or even if you're supposed to be feeling anything for this boy who you know little to nothing about.

but you guess it's because of what you do know about him that throws you off. na jaemin, the campus fuckboy, heart throb, and whatever other name that makes his image sound as vile as it is enticing. in some other universe, you're sure to have already let him eat you out over the course of the few weeks you've known him but somehow, you're glad that you reside in the universe where your head seems to be more securely fastened above your heart. you lick your lips in consideration but nothing comes to mind.

it's frustrating because as much as you hate to admit it, na jaemin makes you feel something. he stirs up something within you, something that hasn't been there in a long time. maybe not since your first crush or when mark first asked you out or even in the heights of your relationship with him when you felt like you could feel nothing more than love for the wretched boy.

you tell her, "it bothers me. it shouldn't, but it does." because though you don't know why. why you're feeling so strongly, or feeling at all, for a man so far from what you need after the end of a long-winded and committed relationship. you don't know why you even care, if anything, him fucking around with a handful of girls served even more as a sign for you to just stay away. getting invested in his small, thoughtful actions and his intense, loving stares is just asking for a ninth breakup. you don't know why but the idea of him being in bed with another girl, bothers you. it shouldn't, but it does.

jaemin isn't ever invited to these types of outings. usually, on a weeks basis, he's invited to quite the number of houses instead. houses of girls and houses that housed parties. never a restaurant, and never in the middle of the day. jeno had let that he was invited because eunmi had some 'investigation' to do, so naturally, he'd expect you to be there as well. turns out this investigation was set up for himself only, seeing as he was now sitting at the far edge of the table, to the left of renjun, whom he had never personally met, and across eunmi, who seems to spend most the time scrutinizing him instead of eating.

the purpose of his presence is made clear as eunmi sits up straight, gaze still fixed on him, and asks straight to the point, "what do you want with y/n?"

jaemin places his fork down calmly but his voice is anything but that, surprised, "i- what do i- what do you mean?" his hands are folded in his lap now, he wonders if this was the reason you didn't come, he wonders if eunmi asked him to come just to interrogate him in front of all your friends. she's still staring at him and though he's taller, he feels a great deal smaller when everyone's eyes are turned to him. hell, even jeno stopped ogling at jaein to give his attention to the scene on the other side of him.

he clears his throat and reiterates, now with a sense of the atmosphere, "what do you mean?" jaemin blinks rapidly as eunmi heaves a sigh, placing two folded hands on the table and pushing her point to light, "why are you messing with her? you wanna fuck her? you know she's off limits for you." jaemin asks the two question he knows he'll end up regretting, he can't help the spite that curls at the edge of his mind for the girl who so fervently despises him, "why is she off limits for me, huh? got something against me?"

"yeah, yeah i do. you go around sleeping with every other girl you see, you, jaemin, you are the last thing she needs right now."

"who are you to decide what she needs-"

"i'm just looking out for her, okay? and, shit, i know she has every right to, i don't know, fuck around with you too, but i can't sit here and watch as she falls for someone that doesn't give two shits about how she feels."

jaemin finds that he has nothing to say. the words echo around in his head, fall for someone, fall for him. he stares down at his food, takes a sip of his water, wipes his clammy hands on a napkin. when he looks up again, eunmi's expression is a tenfold softer than it was before.

"i'm sorry, jaem. it's just- i don't trust you anymore. you've changed a lot since, since…high school." jaemin only nods.

revolutions are held within him as he drives home that day. jaemin notes that the feelings are nothing new, he thinks it has something to do with the little churns in his stomach on the fifth night of your week of 'get drunk, get wasted.' he doesn't bother to suppress the feelings this time, it's been too long, he thinks.

it's been too long since he's liked someone for who they really are instead of just their pussy, he thinks. he, and his loving self, welcomes the feeling with open arms. it's been years since the giddy persona of a lovesick jaemin resurfaced. he's glad it's because of you.

"jaemin, hey, do you need anything?" you remove your eyes from your computer screen for the first time in a few hours, you barely register the strain when his voice is quick to respond from the other end of the line, "can you come down? i'm outside, got a lil something for you." eyes almost ejecting out of their sockets, you quickly mutter a, "sure, i'll be down in two," before hanging up, slamming your computer shut, throwing on a hoodie over your lazy study-day outfit, and grabbing your keys after almost forgetting them entirely.

straightening down the stray strands of your hair as you tread down the steps of the stairwell, you take a minute to breathe, a minute to yourself, before exiting the building. the sky is dark, the time being a little after dinner, but the lamplight that falls onto the man's face makes your heart swoon at the sight. dangerous territory.

"hey," you voice as he meets you in the middle. "what are you-"

"here," he holds out a teddy bear, medium in size, brown and fuzzy. you take it from him graciously and he tucks his hands into his jeans pocket, "i was just-i just thought that you'd...yeah." chuckling, you notice the hues of warmth rise in his cheeks. "wow, didn't think you were one to blush." he's laughing as well, from the embarrassment, hand coming up to cover his cheeks, to cover his smile, his stupid smile.

his smile never falters when he asks, "may i ask you something?" you nod, unassumingly.

"can i take you out on a date? next week maybe?"

breathless and eyes sparkling, you look up at him as if he were the one who put the sparkles in your eyes. he really was. now, it's you that blushes, hands coming up to cover your own cheeks, "yeah, i'd- i would like that." you almost want to coo at him when you see the relief that washes over his expression.

"you would?"

"yes, jaemin," you give a breathy laugh, "i'd like that very much."

fucking love. that one stupid feeling that could get you so emotionally intoxicated in ways no substance ever could. the kind of love that made you want to scream into the void, to exclaim your sheer and utter elatedness to the world. fucking love that you could never not chase, especially if it was jaemin.

mark never took pictures of you. not that you expected him to by default, he just never did. jaemin, however, shows up right outside your dorms, a camera hanging down from his neck. you can't say it doesn't charm your heart.

"what's that for?" you eye the camera as you slip into the passenger seat. you already know, you just love it when he says, "for you, of course." his hand holds yours as he drives and it stays that way until the two of you arrive.

the botanical gardens are, for the most part, empty on the weekdays, working wonderfully in your favor as jaemin leads you, also by the hand, through the forests of greenery, the air so crisp that it fills your mind with clarity after a week of muddled studying. jaemin compares you to the likes of several flowers, all of which he implores for you to pose next to for a picture. he especially finds the daphne odora, the winter flowering of daphnes, to hold the highest esteem in regards to you. you have not the slightest idea why.

the two of you are strolling under the glass-covered conservatory when light conversation turns heavy. confusion lines your face as you look over at him, "jaem?"

"yes?" he takes an extra step or two to match your pace. you stare at his feet as you speak, "what's...what's different about me?"

"what do you mean by that?" hesitance sits in your every word, "you don't treat me like...one of them, like one of you're fuckbuddies."

"because you're not," he replies simply. in all honesty, there's something you're looking for, something you just need to know, though you are lost in how to phrase it. shaking your head a bit, to wrack the insides for an answer, you end up regurgitating the same question, "yeah but, what makes me different?"

jaemin doesn't seem to mind and answers to his best ability, "well, for one, we're not fucking. and then there's the fact that i- that…" he trails off, the words are right there at the tip of his tongue, waiting to jump out at you, to allow you to revel in his love. he doesn't dare voice them aloud, the threat of rejection is stemming and rooting itself in his bloodstream. unaware, you urge him on, "that…"

your date is lost in thought, eyes seeming to be particularly interested in a bloom of camellias. you suppose they're plenty interesting but you wonder how he'd lost the interest in speaking with you so quickly. was it something that you said? maybe asking him so upfront like that wasn't the best choice. jaemin, meanwhile, is panicking. sure, the camellias look beautiful but the millions of thoughts that course through his mind are each occupying too much space for his mouth to actually form a string of words that make coherent sense.

jaemin finally, finally settles on something to say, just as the two of you are rounding upon the exit. he subtly wishes he'd gotten a picture of you by the camellias. turning his sights back in your direction, he verbalizes, "are you going home for winter break?"

lips pursed, you shake your head, "no, i was just planning on staying at school-"

"do you wanna come with me? back home?"

you stop in your tracks. jaemin walks on until the hand that's carrying yours is tugged to a stop. he looks back at you and sees the way you gulp, the way you refuse to return his gaze. he makes his way back to you, closing the distance he's created. jaemin is a few seconds, a few thoughts, away from recollecting his propositions with a 'nevermind' and a quick brush of a hand but you beat him to it, voice small, but instead of hesitance, it's laced in full conviction.

"yeah okay, i can do that."

it isn't until you're back in your dorms later that night, going over a couple of review sheets for your upcoming exam, that you think to do a little research. a new tab is opened, a few words are typed, and you're floored with what you're met with.

the daphne odora (winter daphne), where 'odora' is latin for fragrant, is most noted, though not often, to be a symbol of doting love, as if to say 'i would not have you otherwise." it flowers in the winter and is primarily prone to wilting in hard soil and low sunlight…

✧ SIX (06) MONTHS AGO

mark's parents give you a once-over before letting you in. just the way they look at you speaks volumes. you can only hope they don't treat you any different. for some reason, his house feels cold, unpleasant, unwelcoming. and though you thought any homemade meal should bring about a sense of warmth, dinner is passed in tight-lipped smiles and the worst type of small talk, small talk about the weather.

retreating into his room after dinner, you decide to bring to light your worries, "mark, i don't think they really-" evident, he's already two steps ahead of you, "it's fine, y/n, they just haven't seen me date someone in awhile."

treading carefully over to his bed and placing a knee upon the sheets, you offer, "so...overly critical?"

he gives you a look, one that opposes your quavering brows and reverts your worries, "exactly."

"right," you huff a sigh of relief, as far as you know, you're convinced but the underlying layer of disbelief still holds true, "i'm gonna go get changed, okay?" you hear a mumbled, "okay" in response as you reopen the door, sights already on the bathroom at the end of the hall. it's when you're at the top of the stairwell, just before your destination, that you hear the conversation from down below, his parents you suppose.

"i'm just saying we shouldn't take this too seriously," by the pitch, you tell it's mark's mom. you move for the bathroom, uninterested, until his dad speaks up as well, "i know, especially with how she looks, exactly like her don't you think?"

"it's the eyes, they have the same eyes," your hand, just above the doorknob, is held in place. your face, expressions of the shock and concern that comes with the revelation, is unmoved. and your breath is no longer coursing air through your lungs.

"mark must still be really hung up on her if he's stuck with that replacement for so long," your hands being to shake and you're afraid that whimpers will arise in their wake, you make haste into the room, closing the door after enduring one last sentence. his mom chuckles, "poor soul, i hope he tells her soon."

you can't find the light switch but you're trembling fingers are quick to latch onto what you assume to be the shower dial, turning on the water to mask your loud sobs. you lock the door behind you, sliding down the back of it while letting out the briniest of tears. the rubber bathroom mat underneath you squeaks and your feet hit the vanity across from you. hands in your hair you can only pull at the strands, the strings of curse words and pain that emit from your figure more mental than physical.

you've never wondered what it would be like to be filed under 'replacement,' or to have a spot in someone's life as merely a disposable placeholder, someone whose presence was dictated solely by how well you satisfied the other's needs for closure, or lack thereof. now you're wondering if that is really all there is to love, satisfying each other's self-serving desires. you wonder if mark served some sort of purpose to you. but you could not, for the life of you, think of one. never in your life as now have you wanted so badly to see the good in a person you swore to love for perhaps the rest of your life.

you want to look him in the eye and tell him that you can't take it anymore, the disrespect, the mistreatment. maybe you could be dramatic and throw a hand across his face, a cup of water to douse his senses. you'd think that a man so kind would be the epitome of committed lover, never one to be agenda-oriented, not that the mark you now pictured was some scheming wretch, but you had to keep in mind that even going as far back as when he first laid his eyes on you, the interest you saw in them was in reality just familiarity. somewhere in you, something about you, maybe not even your looks, resonated with the memory of someone that was already held close to his heart, long before you came along. you were just there so he could relive his past, relish in his memories, prolong the inevitable.

but more than everything, you despise yourself. it's because of who you are, your willingness to be unfalteringly loyal even in the face of something so wrong, that makes it so you are always the backup plan, the last resort, the dumped and not the dumper. it's who you are that keeps you silent till the very moment he ends the whole damned relationship, till the very moment when there's no point in speaking out anymore, so that all that's left to do is to cry out.

✧ PRESENT

the sky is vast out in the countryside. the wind pays no mind to ruffling the leaves on the trees, branches already bare in the wake of autumn. you wished it could snow, just a little, though you doubt the early december rains would be so willing to fall into harsh winter so soon. jaemin ushers you to close the window your finger are flitting out of, he keeps ushering you, but you give him a shake of your head each time, you like the cool air. as he exits the highway, you finally slip them back in, tips of your fingers numbed raw, and jaemin looks at you in an 'i told you so' fashion before rolling the window up to keep the heated air within.

as so many times before, he takes your hand in his while he drives. fussing, his own fingers now encasing and rubbing yours to build the warmth back up. you perk up as the surroundings start to speak more 'countryside' than 'middle of nowhere.' a gas station, diner, couple of shopping plaza are passed, "how much longer?" jaemin pulls to a stop at a red light, "four, maybe five." eyes sparkling, you turn towards him, bringing your legs up on the seat and pulling his hand in yours to your lap, "ooh, so we're close. really close."

the light turns green and jaemin waits for the car in front of him to move, "why? you nervous?" you squirm in your spot, under his gaze, "i mean, n- no," rubbing the back of your neck, "yeah, a little i guess."

"and why is that?"

your hand is still on the back of your neck, fumbling with your words, "well, i mean, your parents. and we're not even- yeah, i don't know."

you say you don't know, yet, both of you know exactly what you're trying to say.

jaemin's childhood home is quaint, with a big front and backyard, and the only house on his street that has offwhite siding paint and soft blue shutters. you'd never pegged him to be a countryside kind of boy.

you've only known jaemin for the better part of two months, yet, the first thing his mom does is hold you in her warm, welcoming embrace. "y/n, dear! such a pleasure to have you here, you're all jaemin talks about over the phone." you blush at that, pulling away from her to give your most sincere smile. you wonder since when blushing was your thing.

his mother does her absolute best to learn your whole life story over the course of one single meal and his father is gruff but fails to hide a smile at your small attempts at anecdotes while jaemin full on chortles on his food. you're glad that not once do they bring up the questionings of your and jaemin's relationship because frankly, you have no idea what the whole deal with it is yourself.

even after dinner, his mother is quick to pull you into the living room, tightly bound photo albums stacked high in her hands. as the two of you coo over two-year-old jaemin taking a bath, four-year-old jaemin at his first piano recital, seven-year-old jaemin's face smushed in his birthday cake, the actual jaemin finishes up washing the dishes and makes his way to his packed bags, unveiling a pack of...you're not sure.

he sits to your right, setting the paper envelope on the table. you pick it up just as he puts it down. peering in, you pull out a bundle of photos strapped together with a measly rubber band. slipping it off, your eyes soften when you realize that almost two thirds of the stack is just you, and then a flower or two, and then some more of you.

jaemin and his mother are hovering over your shoulders on both sides when you reveal the last picture, one of you and jaemin that he had so kindly asked another visitor to take, the daphnes in the back. he had said something funny, you wish you remembered what it was, and in the moment you were looking up at him with your face scrunched in amusement, but it was too late, the picture had been taken. the man on your right takes the laminated photo from you, "i think," he starts, hands navigating the photo albums to find the most recent one. flipping it open, he slides it into the slot underneath a picture of him at his high school graduation, "i think it goes here."

jaemin gives his mother a look, unbeknownst to you, and she dismisses the two of you hurriedly to go off to bed, to get some rest after a long car ride. jaemin doesn't think much of that, apparent in how he does urge you to shower, unpack, and get comfy in his bed but also keeps you up, talking into the depths of the night.

he explains to you, later after you had asked, why his albums only went up until the end of his high school days. his head is propped up on the pillow, body strewn on the thin mattress of his bedroom floor, but both upturned to you perched on his bed. his room is a showcase of his younger years, far before you knew him, and even farther before you heard rumors of him. the walls are littered with certificates of merit, ribbons of academic excellence and his shelves, instead of books, have been cleared out for an abundance of trophies, for innumerable instruments, for perfect attendance, for anything and everything a person under eighteen could be awarded for. you'd never pegged jaemin to be a countryside boy, and added on to that, you'd never have pegged him to be the goody-two-shoes his childhood home so plainly made him out to be.

he tells you, himself, how college had changed him, how freedom had changed him, how being admitted into the fraternity changed him, how parties, underage drinking, sex, how it all rewrote the person he used to be. he looks you in the eye and tells you how much he loved the thrill, the adrenaline, the popularity, the sheer magnitude of people he had swooning over him, at his feet, on their knees. he tells you he loved it and that he's not so sure if he loves it now.

"why the sudden change?"

jaemin could tell you that he doesn't know, really, that maybe he just grew up a little and saw his time wasted, that perhaps he realized all the fights he had with his parents were simply not worth it. or, he could tell you the truth.

"because of you."

"what do you mean?"

"i mean," he's scrambling to sit up straight now, so he can look you in the eyes. if he's going to do this, he's going to do it properly. his eyes level with yours, lips freshly licked, he dives in the deep end. "i think i just- i met you at your worst. and we talked, and we, i don't know, flirted, and everything was supposed to just pan out how it usually does. you know, in bed. but it didn't." you've sat up as well, feet hanging over the edge of his bed and barely scraping the floor. you reach to hold both his hands in yours, though you have not the slightest clue where he is going with this tangent. "it didn't, but even then, i- i never-" it seems that even he doesn't know.

jaemin's hands start to clam in yours but there's an underlying determination that still holds strong, he's nowhere near done. "i never stopped going after you, and not at all for the sex. i- it was really just for you."

your jaw unhinges itself, hand not bothering to cover, thoughts elsewhere. what you thought might've been his life-changing, inspirational, heart-spurring tale, is turning out to be something you were inexplicably unprepared for. your newly sprouted tears are at the brink of overflowing as you try to make sense of the mess your mind has already made for itself. the questions are almost pushed over the precipice of your tongue before jaemin clears the air with finality and a handful, of in-the-moment confidence.

"y/n," jaemin's fingers glide over your knuckles in half the rhythm of your heartbeat, "i met you at your worst and i think that somehow it made me realize that i was also at my worst. and i don't know what people have to say about two sad people falling in love, all i really know is that i like you. i really fucking like you."

as if on cue, you start crying right then. "fuck, jaem," you pull your hands from him to swipe at your face and he's moving onto the bed as he speaks, dumbfounded, "why are you crying, y/n? is this like a 'i like you back and i'm happy' or 'i don't like you back' kinda cry?" you throw your head back in unprecedented laughter as he takes you in his embrace. your head rocks back and rests on his shoulders, arms coming up to encase them. "it's a 'relieved that i'm not the only one' cry."

he draws back, hands still holding you at the waist, "so, i'm taking that to mean you like me back?" you lick your lips, "maybe...possibly, you'll have to find out on your own." jaemin shakes his head, the back of his right hand coming up to caress the apples of your cheek. chuckling he retorts, "you're saying that like i don't already know. eunmi kinda let it slip a few weeks ago."

"she what?!"

"well, she kinda said that you were falling for me or something like that."

"well," you stop, in confoundment of being left in utter betrayal, "well, she's wrong. tell her that i said she's wrong."

"but you-"

"no, fuck what i just said, she's wrong."

"i- okay," jaemin watches you fall back onto your back with a huff, he follows shortly. the ceiling the both of you stare at and beyond is rightfully comforting after a week that just happened to start well, go well, end well. maybe love is your forte, after all, loving yourself after all that's happened, loving others despite all that might go wrong, anything to do with love. you suppose the getting dumped the eighth time would have made that quite obvious but you just had to throw yourself out there again, just to make sure. and boy were you glad you did just that.

jaemin is cutting fruit when it first begins to snow. apples are especially delectable in the winter, he knows he's bound to love them even more after this one winter. you're on the couch when it begins to snow, just shy of beating your long-withstanding high score on some game you were admittedly terrible at. jaemin joins you on the couch with the plate of apples, moments after it beings to snow.

"jaem," your lay a hand on his thigh, your sights elsewhere, "look, it's snowing."

you're scrambling to get a scarf around your neck, your boots zipped, the turtleneck underneath your coat pulled to your chin. the sky is almost dark, sunset not entirely visible under the veil of clouds. jaemin can't decide what is more enlightening, the snow or you and the ear-splitting grin that takes up half your expression. he decides that it's you.

you aren't even allotted the time to make snow angels before his lips are on yours. it's not the first time the two of you have kissed but neither of you will deny how different it feels. jaemin guesses it's because the way his lips move against your is fueled by untainted adoration and he suspects the same from you. he molds them steadily, wanting to take delight in the feeling for as long as hig lungs would permit. specks of snow dust the crests of your cheeks and the tail ends of his eyelashes. they heat in contact with your skin and begin their descent, deliquescing as they stray down the curves of your cheeks, meeting at your mouth that so fervently moving again jaemin's. it's where the cold melts of snow meet the warm mix of salivation.

you wield all the experience you will ever need, yet, it feels like it's your very first kiss, butterflies stirring down in your tummy and all. it never ends, it really doesn't. not when he first parts for air, or when you part the time after that, or even when you notice his mom, hands on her hips, from the window, or when the snow begins to clot at your feet.

you think you love him.

despite all the thoughts that tell you it's cheesy, it's boring, it's lame and conventional, you tell him on valentine's day.

the party is alive, it's at its height, it's roaring and it's ravaging fun. the party is in full swing and as what is now considered usual, neither you nor jaemin are eager in partaking in it, opting to simply hang out in his room, above the loud music and the moans from the opposite ends of all four walls. the door is locked this time and instead of joining the crowd in the main event of fucking each other senseless, the two of you have a small setup on his bed, littered with textbooks, previous exam papers, a fancy charcuterie board, courtesy of the dedicated chef, jaemin himself. you're on your back, feet hitched upon the headboard and laptop positioned at a ninety degree angle on your ninety degree angled legs. jaemin is on the floor rather, using the bed as a makeshift table even though he has an actual table not two feet away.

"i wish we could go to your dorms, it's loud as fuck." in response, you heave a sigh, mind now sidetracked from your work, "a pity i live on the fifth floor, we have no chance in sneaking you in." a thought dawns on him and he wonders why neither of you thought of it before, "let's go to the car."

it's quite the sight and you're sure anyone who's actively paying attention would laugh. jaemin's arms are locked straight up, supporting yours, his computer, and three textbooks, as he navigates the swarm of people to the exit. you're, following in tow, arms held up in similar fashion but instead of a stack of books, you're hoisting the charcuterie board, still abundant with cheese and grapes and a dip of honey. the threat of everything toppling over is very much apparent.

he'd driven a little ways down his street so that the buzz of the party could be left fully behind. the only thing aiding your studying is now the low-grade yellow lights that come with the fold down mirrors. "holy shit, jaem," your mouth waters even as it anticipates its next bite. "what?" he glances over at you. the charcuterie board is hiked on your knees that are drawn to your chest, makeshift tables are all too common today it seems. all the cheese on the board have an identical bite on them, a result of your taste testing but it seems that only one has drawn your liking so much so that you have eaten most the portion provided. "this- the- what's this one?"

"petite jalapeño, why?"

you cover your mouth as you chew hurriedly, "it's so fucking good, babe, with the honey. oh my god, i love you." you've finished chewing but you don't notice what's left your mouth, definitely not food.

"you what?"

you're thoughtlessly thrown into his trap, "i love- fuck."

"you love fuck."

"wait no."

you put the plate on the dashboard, dusting off your hands while your cheeks dust rose under the dingy lights. "i- wait, yeah i," you shift a leg under you, turning to your boyfriend but refusing to look him in the eye. you speak to the outlines of the house two down from his, "i guess i do love you."

"y/n, look at me."

you shy away from him, embarrassed yet overcome with the sudden wash of feelings. you knew this, you do love him, so why is it so hard to voice aloud? he brings his hand to your chin, leans it towards him until you have no choice but to gaze into his loving stare. truth be told, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"i love you too."

your fingers play with your bottom lip, thrusting it up and down, left and right as you mull over which picture to post. "bummer, i look great in this one but you're blinking. ugh." swiping to the next one, you find that it's the last. "here," jaemin unlocks his phone with one hand, holds it out for you, "i think i have some that jaein took, she's better at taking pictures than jeno anyways." taking the device from him, you click into his photos and find the last two hundred or so to be just of you and the lavender fields, he hasn't changed a bit.

jaein does have a lot more sense, "wow my legs look so long in this one," and "geez, that hair flip was entirely unintentional, i must be a natural." jaemin rolls his eyes at that, one hand of his on the wheel while the other makes its way over to your thigh, rubbing a soft, distracted massage.

the first red flag that draws your attention. you're airdropping a cumulative 54 photos to your own phone when you see a name that you had long forgotten in his top three message chats, minyoung. you ignore it. you post the picture. you edit the caption seven times, each time becoming more indecisive than the last while jaemin gives you the incredulest of looks.

you decide to stay at his place for the night, not that it's an inconvenience to drive the extra two minutes back to your place, but just because he wants to spend the night with you. there's no objections, why would there be?

the second red flag that draws your attention. jaemin's showing you something on his phone, a video of a dog maybe, you've forgotten. the text that drops down while the two of you huddle over the screen holds your interest far longer. it's minyoung and she's telling him to come over. you're slightly alarmed, you're boyfriend even more so. he draws his phone back instantly, to your dismay, and you almost want to snatch it from him, to delve into the depths of the chat. you really almost do.

"jaem, what did i just see?"

"y/n, it's not what you think," it irks you that he's so quick to defend. you keep your head on cool for now, "okay, then what was it about?" his eyes shift from yours to the wall behind you, you're surprised they're lined with annoyance. he shakes his head, "nothing."

you're thinking it's all the more reasonable for you to be the one who's annoyed. you bit down harsh on your lip, refusing to give way to any of your many impulses, "if it's nothing then why can't you tell me?"

jaemin glances over at you, fleetingly, "i- it's not something you should be worried about. just, trust me, will you?" rubbing your hands down the fabric of your- his sweatpants, you utter a sigh, not sure of how much longer, how many more times you have to be left in the dark, for you to snap at him. you hope it isn't soon. "jaem, i trust you, i do. but that doesn't mean i'll believe everything you say blindly." you note that, for whatever reason, his pupils are shaking. "at least, not after what i just saw."

"then i don't know what to say. you have to trust me on this."

na jaemin has never been stubborn, or, he's never had a reason to be. everything goes accordingly to the way he wants to, that's how it's always been. maybe it's because of his endearing charms that teachers can never fail him, that compliments are always showered upon him. perhaps it's the way he flatters that makes him so likeable, befriending people is as easy as reciting the alphabet when you've frequented too many parties and met too many people. he knows that when he kisses up, people will bow down, he's never been rejected. it's definitely because of his good looks that girls always spilt their legs open for him, they never say no.

na jaemin gets what he wants, except when he doesn't.

"no."

you leave because you have trust issues, sure, who doesn't, who cares. who cares if there are tears streaming down your face for seemingly stupid reasons? it isn't the first time, it's nowhere near the first time. it's the same feeling you had when you realized your first boyfriend wasn't going to reply back, there's still a read seven years ago below your text. the same feeling when you saw your second kissing your 'best friend.' still all those years ago, when you were two steps away to the lunch table when you heard your third whisper to his friends, "just a stupid bet with a stupid girl." when your fourth told you he lost feelings for you when you were still madly in love with him and when you had to found out from your oldest sister that your fifth was her classmate, in grad school, while you were still in your last year of high school, not even old enough to vote. your sixth trying to strip you of your virginity right after you agreed to be his girlfriend and your seventh basically forgetting you existed. you were getting the same fucking feeling all those months ago when you finally realized your rightful position as 'replacement,' as 'number 2,' as 'poor soul.' maybe distrust is simply inbred in you and though you know the prospects of yours and jaemin's relationship are far from over, you can't deny the gut feeling that your bad luck in men is coming back to haunt you, that it's never left in the first place.

na jaemin forgets that he has a past he can't erase, just like you. the girls he's fucked over the past three years have hearts and they have reasons they began to fuck him in the first place. he couldn't heal their hearts, nor his, but sex did a great deal, made a great deal of people jealous, gave him all he needed at the time. he never expected them to simply go away when he decided to settle down but it seems that his reputation holds so much worth that it's proving hard to overcome it himself. jaemin hates that you date the campus fuckboy, he hates that people still whisper in your ear that he's fucking so-and-so in the dead of night. he hates that he can't get rid of the stigma around his name, even though you know, through and through, that he can't nearly live up to it anymore. you know yet, you leave because of it. his reputation. na jaemin, certified eye candy and delectable dick, wishes he was anyone but himself.

her bare feet shuffling down the hall is the only thing she hears. she wishes they let people wear shoes on the second floor so she could've busted her heels out and clacked her way to his room. she needs the rush of empowerment right now. she needs it.

the next thing she hears is the sound of raised voices right as she is about to shove the door open, the door fifth on the left of the hall to the right of the stairwell, exactly where you'd told her he'd be, albeit reluctantly.

eunmi is taken aback now that she recognizes one of the voices behind the door. minyoung. gritting her teeth, she presses her ear to the wood, careful to keep quiet.

"so you're fucking her now? is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"minyoung, i'm not fucking her. we're dating, it's been that way for awhile," he sounds exasperated, maybe, eunmi can almost see the crease in his brows.

"why didn't you bother to ask me if i was fine with it? we had a thing going, you can't just bail on me like that."

"the only thing we had going was quick fucks every thursday. i'm sorry, but i don't think that's much of a relationship."

her voice is growing impatient, in desperation like she's grasping at loose strings, hanging on to whatever she can find, "this little bitch- does she even know? how much of a dick you are? are you just going to leave her like you did me?"

"stop, minyoung, please,"

but eunmi guesses her point is valid nonetheless, she herself doesn't think very highly of him. "how would she feel if i told her that? that leaving is your specialty? you can fuck me, and all my friends and leave, thinking that we'd never know, but we know, okay? and if you- if you ever think that you'll be satisfied with settling down for this chick, think again jaemin."

eunmi backs into the restroom across the door, for good measure and good sense because minyoung is storming out the second after, unaware of her eavesdropper. a minute and a glimpse later, she knows that jaemin is crouched by the foot of his bed, though she's unsure why.

she braves herself because she's here for answers. reappearing at his door, she calls softly as if raising a white flag, "hey there." jaemin's head snaps up instantaneously in surprise. "oh, hi, what're you doing here?" he lowers himself to sit on the floor and eunmi takes the spot in front of him, wariness in her movements.

"well, i came here for y/n, obviously, but um, i just happened to hear-" she's cut off when jaemin lets out a low groan into his hands. eunmi makes her stance a little clearer now that she has a better feel of the situation, "i'm not here to break up with you for her or anything. she didn't really want me to come, but i guess, i guess i came because we've also had our fair share of...disagreements that i think we should set straight," she pauses, hands fiddling with her thumbs in her lap, "i'm sorry if this is too much after, all that."

he looks relieved at that, "no, it's fine. i- i'm glad you want to, i don't know, make up. i haven't really been all that great of a friend these past years anyway."

eunmi lets a smile slip at that, what an interesting turn of events, "so...friends?"

"friends."

"and just to set the record straight, you're not still fucking minyoung right?"

jaemin rolls his eyes, shakes his head, gesticulates with his hands, "no, i got y/n. she's all i really need." eunmi nods to fill the awkward silence that follows. she's reminded of another inquiry, "so why didn't you just tell her that?"

"i guess i just didn't want her to worry or like- or get involved with my past, stuff like that. i kinda hated how it's dredged up all the time, especially now that i've, i don't know, settled down, committed."

"should've just told her," eunmi deadpans.

"i really should've," jaemin agrees.

"need me to drive you?" jaemin's extra careful with his words today, post-arguments can be fickle, particularly if they're only halfway resolved. your voice is muffled on the other end, "no, i'll walk." jaemin's wishes he'd insisted it instead of simply offering, late spring rains weren't all that uncommon, and even more so when the skies are darkening as they are on this specific day. "it might rain though," he tries again. you decline again, "i'll manage, thank you."

he sees you in ten, fifteen minutes or so, and sure enough, you're drenched head to toe, staring up at him with eyes that bear in mind the tension that hangs in between you and also border the bounds of laughter at how you're dripping wet with no one to blame but yourself. jaemin bites back the 'i told you so' and hurries to get you dried off with a towel, changed, and under the sheets. by then, the tension has subsided considerably.

"you wanna talk about it?"

you're tired, though it hasn't even struck five on the clock, "i thought that's what i'm here for."

"so, i'm not fucking her-"

"nice to know-"

"-just had some loose ends to tie up-"

"-and did you?" jaemin supposes you're far too tired to be emitting the same, resolute aggressions as a few days prior seeing as you're keeping your voice to a minimum and the words that come out are straight to the point, blunt. he does his best to reflect the same straightforwardness.

"i did, she's...off my back, our back...our backs."

you give him a look, scrunch your nose, and tug him by the arms into you. there's a blanket separating you two but he fits exactly against you anyways. you wonder how anyone could ever get in between the two of you if you so perfectly mold alongside him. the bridge of his nose nuzzles down your neck and you're laughing because it doesn't get any better than this, really.

he shuts the light on the bedside table off with an inattentive hand, the blankets are drawn back and he's pulled flush into you. his body heat is welcome on a frigid night and the blanket that falls back on top of him seals the both of you within the confines of his bed for the hours to come. you're starting to think that coming here was more just to cuddle than it was to make up with him.

"i can't get enough of you," his face is in your neck.

"and why is that?"

"because- because everything about you- i feel like i'd be missing out if i never tried to start something with you," he buries himself further in your scent, "it's like i emptied my heart out just so you could fill it back up."

your chin rests on the crown of his head, it tickles him when you speak, now in half wakefulness, "could say the same for you."

jaemin whispers into your ear, breath fanning down onto your neck, words that will only ever be for you, "i would not have you otherwise."

jaemin spent your spring break at your hometown, to meet your parents, both of which loved him dearly. he wouldn't dare voice it aloud but he thinks it's the sweetest that your mother holds you, her youngest daughter, in such high-esteem after bringing home who she thinks to be the 'most gorgeous man alive,' an utterance he was sure was not meant for him to hear.

he likes being the 'most gorgeous man alive,' especially if you were the one who thought so, but as he watches you stare intently at the flynn rider's jawline, his own jaw clenches. tangled is playing as the pre-movie for movie night, the movie that plays before people actually start to arrive since, donghyuck and eunmi are always destined to be at least an hour late. but it's not that that gets him the most riled up that night, riled up isn't even the right word. maybe agitation, at whoever thought it was a good idea to invite mark lee. mark fucking lee, the grad student. the whoever turns out to be chenle and although jaemin does not have it in him to beat the kid up, he is sure as hell watching over the dude from the moment he walks in to the moment he leaves.

more than that, he also keeps his eyes on you as well, tracing your expression with every word his goddamned senior ought to speak. "hey, y/n, how have you been?" jaemin glares. as far as his detective senses go, he figures that marks target for the night isn't you, but rather eunmi. he hopes he can get over this as quickly and neatly as possible. your face twitches into a smile, uncomfortable, he thinks. "fine, i've been fine. you?" jaemin wants to draw you back and tell you that you had no obligation to be so polite, that the 'fine' would have done its job splendidly on its own.

"pretty good myself, looks like things have been happening around here, huh," jaemin hates the way he wriggles his eyebrows, "hyuck and eunmi, you and him." jaemin hates how he just referred to him as 'him,' surely, there was a lot more due respect than that. "yeah, and jeno and jaein but that's-"

"oh psh, old news," the two of you laugh, you laugh with him, with him. jaemin is just about ready to throw hands when mark excuses himself to get a seat on the floor, serves him right, he thinks. you look comparatively calm next to the raging boy. why is he the only one bothered by this?

"you good there? didn't even say a word to him."

he gulps, "yeah, i'm great. just didn't feel like talking."

you're staring at him like you can see right through him, that's exactly the case, "i'm over him, you know?" jaemin scratches at his neck, "yeah, i know." head on his shoulder as the first official movie of the night plays, you sigh, "no need to get all worked up, i'm all yours."

the twentieth century fox theme plays in the background of the romance novel you live in. na jaemin makes you feel that way, unfailingly, every single day. it's written in the ways he kisses you, lovemarks blooming under your skin. it's written in the way he stares at you, with nothing else except pure, unadulterated love. it's written in between the lines, his actions, his thoughts, everything that amounts to so much more than the past years of deprivation you've had to endure. it's written in the stars, out in the countryside where jaemin could never fake a smile, not in the presence of you. with you by his side, not in a million years.

it's here. summer fucking break is finally here. and if there's anything to prove that, it's the way you're currently sitting in a car with all your friends. taking a short little road trip out to the beach. now, mind you, these are the same friends that were there on your drunkest nights, slumped over bar counters and blatantly asking for any hot guy's number. the same friends that accompanied you on your most sober nights, holed up in your single-person dorm room, trying to study for an exam for a class you could never wake up in time for. and among those friends is one who has an added prefix, your boyfriend, na jaemin, who's in the driver's seat per your request since your carsickness prevented you from any other seats and you really wanted him by your side. jaemin didn't seem to mind driving, after all, he was next to you.

the sun is setting too fast and eunmi, sitting in the seat in the far back, complains that they'd have to set up the bonfire right away instead of getting to play in the warm water while it's warm. donghyuck, beside her, is complaining too, but not about the bonfire or even the trip in general, but about eunmi and her legs which are hoisted on his lap, something about how his dingaling needs to breath. jaein, in the seat right behind you is musing on about how she thinks it'll be funny when they arrive and see yeseul and renjun's car torn up in two, neither of them could ever get along. jeno, to her left, is fussing with rubbing sunblock on her, getting angry at how her hair could never stay out of his way.

you glance over at jaemin who has this smile on his face. this smile that makes it seem like he's in adoration of the whole scene panning out in the rearview mirror. he takes a glance over at you too and, if even possible, his smile beams wider, straight pearly whites and all. his hand finds yours.

it's already dark when the eight of you arrive but eunmi isn't complaining anymore since the boys make quick work in getting the bonfire set up while letting the girls play in the water. the ocean water licks at your feet as you watch eunmi and yeseul duel in how much water they could spray at each other, jaein sitting on the shore off to the side, watching as well. you're pondering going over to accompany her when eunmi's hand latches on your left arm and tugs the whole of you into the water with her. it's warm and wouldn't have been entirely unwelcoming had you gotten a notice in advance.

you make fun in chasing them around, kicking up water in eunmi's face one too many times that she begins to choke on the saltiness. yeseul is now on the shore yelling at renjun. and jaein is doing her best with a tent. eunmi, who's back you were currently rubbing, is almost through with her fit and you think the mischievous face she's pulling means another round but she brings up a question instead, "how's he in bed?"

she's right if she assumed you'd chuck another armful of water in her face.

you sigh in annoyance as jaemin tosses the towel over your head once again, unsatisfied with how the tips of your hair were still wet. his fingers are ruffling fast and making quick work to dry the strands but you're upset. "jaemin, babe, we've been standing here for ten minutes, can i go now?" your head resurfaces as he gives the towel one more tug, smiling, "just making sure you don't get sick." he follows as you duck into your shared tent to get ready for the bonfire. "shit, jaem. i didn't bring an extra top," you frown but he only smiles wider and grabs his hoodie from the ground beside the sleeping bags. "lucky for you, then," he tugs the article of clothing over your head, only speaking again once your eyes peek out, "because i love seeing you wear my clothes."

you give him a nose scrunch in return but every word of his, every single word that comes from his mouth is enough to get you swooning. you follow him out the tent.

"so," donghyuck's eyes are playful in the light of the fire, "what game are we playing today?" jeno groans, "do we always have to play some sort of game? why can't we just like…" even he's unsure of what to do. the eight of you are situated around the blazing fire that's, not quite large enough to be a bonfire, but does its job in keeping you warm. jaein perks up after much deliberation, "how about...we go around and each make a wish?"

donghyuck huffs, "fine by me." it starts with jeno, and though you truly value each and every one of your friends' wishes, there's only one that you really remember for the rest of the night, the day, the week, the month, and the years to come. jaemin clears his throat, the rest of the group watching him including you, the you he turns to. you're huddled over on the log beside him, wrapped up in his hoodie and hair an absolute mess. your eyes are heavy and he already knows that once everyone decides to call it a night, you will be the first to leave. you're looking at him in tired anticipation and mild interest, he hopes what he has to say tells you all he needs you to know.

"i already have you, so there's nothing left to wish for."

the rest of the group breaks off into 'oohs' and 'ewws' but you swear that you and jaemin, jaemin and you are stuck in your own little world. his gaze is incredibly soft and endearing, you scoot closer and place a head on his shoulder, his hand coming around your frame in automatic response. leaning into his warmth, you feel closest to home than you ever have before.

jaemin carries you to sleep later that night. and even later that night, or rather early in the morning, when you rustle awake, he's aroused by you as well. the two of you sit on a towel atop the dry sand, right before where the tides ride up the shore. basked in the moonlight, jaemin's skin beams a pale sheen and his eyes are cast over darkly, ethereally, divinely. your head is still on his shoulder and you feel the words vibrate through you when he speaks, "did you have fun today?"

you tuck a lip under your front teeth and nod for him to feel. he asks another question, "how are you feeling?" this time, you aren't able to part with just a shake of your head so you sit up, eyes never leaving the push and pull of the sunless ocean, "i feel...happy."

he looks over at you, not in surprise but in interest, "happy? why do you feel happy?" you shrug almost, musing off whatever comes to mind first, "i don't know, school just ended, this trip, summer break. i have a lot of reasons to be happy." jaemin isn't sulky at that but he does his best to pull his name from you, "and what about me?"

you dare a glance over at the man next to you, his eyes already boring into yours, "well, you too, of course." looking away as quickly as you'd looked over, you mumble quietly, "actually, more because of you than anything." in your peripheries, you see him give you a look that speak 'that's what i thought' and you clip down your smile in favor of a shake of your head.

moving from your spot, you surprise jaemin when you block his view of the seaside. he settles you down into his lap with familiar control, arms cradling you tight to his chest. hand on his neck, you trace it up to his cheek and guide his head down to face yours. jaemin leans in for a soft kiss, lips suckling at your bottom as your teeth tug on his top, slow but sensual, tired but sweet. you pull away for a breath but it's as if he doesn't need to breathe anymore because he chases after your lips almost instinctively. soft kiss after soft kiss is all that's needed for you to pluck up your courage and look him in the eyes, lips detached, and speak the truth your heart has been singing in your ears all along. "jaem," his eyes are hazy as they find yours in the dim light. somewhere in the back, the sun is peeking over the horizon in all its glory but neither of you pay it any mind. "yes, love?" he brushes the hairs from your face, fingers gliding across your cheeks and then fumbling with your bottom lip with his thumb. you blink and you speak.

"i've been waiting for you all my life."

you think back over the past seven months, a little over half a year, that you've had this man in your life, five months of which he was your boyfriend. you wonder how you could've fallen so fast in such a short amount of time. then again, love is rarely ever about how short or how long. it's more about the timing in which everything falls into place, the intensity by which each person loves, their pasts and how willing they are to erase it. falling in love is not about getting it right the first time, to find someone to be your first and last. for you particularly, jaemin is your ninth, and though the prospects of him being your last are still far from true, you know in your heart and in your mind and in every part of your living being that with each coming second, he's a second closer to becoming your last.

✧ end note — if my ex ever sees this, though i truly doubt he will, he gon know i stole one of his lines for jaemin. the wish one. yeah...he always had his way with words, that's about all he had though. but hey, it makes a hell of a good line in this story. i hope you had a good time reading this piece, it was such a pleasure to write. i will see you guys when i wake up for class in three hours hehe. with all the love in the world, rouiyan

#nct jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #neo-constellations #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct fics #nct jaemin fluff #jaemin fics #jaemin angst #na jaemin #nct jaemin fics #maxed the shit out of that 15k #very lightly proofread #will go over later #enjoy for now #<3 #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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realcube · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu girls // The Strap - NSFW headcanons

pairings: kiyoko x reader, yachi x reader, saeko x reader

summary: you and your s/o decide to add a bit of spice to your sex so y’all use a strap - the following headcanons are how I think they’ll use it/react..

tw// aged-up au!, (she/her) reader, vagina-having reader, sexual intercourse, strap-ons, WLW sex, fingering, oral (receiving and giving), swearing, exhibition

Kiyoko Shimizu

honestly, you’re both very diplomatic when it comes to deciding who gives and who receives

whenever y’all do it, the mood kinda just decides for itself

however, since both y’all were just blankly staring at the bright pink object that sat in the middle of the bed, Kiyoko figured that she’d take one for the team

also, since it was her who suggested and bought the item, she thought it would only be fair if she gave it try first

so, she guided you through the steps of putting it on while strapping it onto herself

then, once she was done, she bent you over and got to it

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Your eyes rolled back into your head from the unholy mix of ecstasy and pain Kiyoko made you feel. Never before have you felt so full. The way she mastered the smooth plastic toy so it occasionally brushed against your g-spot left you salivating and begging for more - just how she intended. “Kiyoko~” You whined, pushing your face out of the blankets so she could hear your desperate pleas, “M- Muh, More! Please..”

A light pant left Kiyoko’s lip as she retracted one of her hand from your waist to reach down at trace sloppy circles around her clit, but she was a lot more sensitive than she thought she would be so after that small bit of stimulation, she involuntarily tossed her head back and let out a low moan.

That was part of the reason she wanted to refrain from touching herself while pounding into you but the sight of your dripping pussy being stretched out by her strap along with the high-pitch mewls you let out was more than enough to leave her with a throbbing cunt and weak knees.

Without a word, she altered her movements so that she was now thrusting into you at a rapid pace, every movement of her hip directed at the spot you pleaded to be stimulated and upon your request, Kiyoko delivered. However, not without a cost. At this point, your g-spot was getting used and abused so quickly, your body was barely able to keep up.

Lewd wails escaped your throat, your mind clouded with pleasure and euphoria yet you were still conscious enough to notice that the slight vibrating of your thighs could only mean one thing.

Despite the fact you were struggling to breath through all the erotic sensations throughout your body, let alone think - as soon as you felt your orgasm arise, the natural instinct to ask for permission managed to muster up enough energy to allow you to croak out, “May I?”

Kiyoko couldn’t help but giggle, gently caressing you waist with one hand and abandoning her needy clit to attend to your puckered hole. “You’ve been a good girl.” She mused, a low groan falling from her lips as he speed decreased slightly just to tease you. “Go on.”

Her deacceleration barely effected you as by the time those words had reached your ears, you were already halfway through your climax. Bliss shot through your body, sending shivers down your arched spine and to your legs, which was promptly followed by a pornographic moan. “Sh..Shimzu!~”

Upon hearing you finish, Kiyoko slowly pulled out the strap to provide you with some relief before taking it off, throwing it aside and attacking her pussy with her fingers - clearly, she had been left unsatisfied after being aroused by your messy, horny state.

You looked over at her and were simply unable to stifle a giggle. However, you weren’t the one laughing when you tried to stand up to walk over there and help her but then you realised you couldn’t feel your legs. “C’mere.” You commanded, seeming slightly less dominant since you were still panting from when she was railing you just a few seconds ago, “I’ll finish you off.”

Hitoka Yachi

she rarely ever gives and this was no exception

(well, by that I mean she is a bottom but when it comes to giving gifts and stuff she is extra af but that is a whole other headcanon)

in fact, she was actually the one who bought the strap

however, it was now you who inserting it into her

but you both like it that way!

bc she usually hates being on top since she’s always scared that she’ll hurt you or leave you unsatisfied

anyway, you both mutually agreed that you were the top - despite the fact that y’all only do it once every millennium-

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You finished deciphering the instruction and managed to put the god-forsaken thing on - and the fact that you had little to no hand-to-eye coordination probably didn’t help. ( Throwback to that one time you momentarily pulled out and then when you tried to plug your fingers back in, you accidentally ended up aggressively poking Yachi’s labia.)

“Okay,” You looked up, biting your lip upon seeing Yachi in nothing but lingerie with the dim candle’s lit in the background, making her look heavenly. The character develop - you sighed, recalling the first time y’all had intercourse and she insisted the lights had to be complete off and her oversized shirt and thigh-high socks stayed on. Not that you had a problem with that - in fact, you found it quite charming - but it was just amazing to see how much more confidence she’s gained.

You shook your head in attempt to shake away all the off-topic thoughts, “Are you sure you want me to do this?” You inquired, eyes soft and exchanging a loving gaze with her. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing this.” Although, it was Yachi’s idea to invest in a strap-on but you’d rather be safe than sorry as she might’ve changed her mind since then.

Yachi nodded, her signature sweet yet awkward smile gracing her lip while she fidgeted with the lace on the edges of the red panties she wore. “Oh, yes. I’m sure! I-I’ll be sure to tell you if it’s too much though.” She stuttered, losing her train of thought at the sight of you wearing the article. A deep blush rushed to her cheeks and she tried to stifle a snicker, “Safe-word: ‘waffles’, right?”

Waffles; a parallel to the name of your dog - Pancakes - which Yachi thought was so cute and fun but you - for obvious reasons - felt uncomfortable with her, in any case, screaming your dogs name in bed. So, you changed the word to Waffles.

You hummed in agreement, sending her one last kind smile before a mischievous grin made it’s way onto your face. “Bend over.” You demanded, glancing down to look at the massive piece of shmeat erect on your vagina; you’d by lying if you said it didn’t make you at least the slightest bit uneasy - but you had to push through, for Yachi!

Saeko Tanaka

at this point, you were used to Saeko whipping out the weirdest shit and using it during intercourse

if anything, a strap-on was pretty vanilla and conventional compared to the other things Saeko has used with you

which include (but not limited to): a wooden spoon, a candle, a TV remote, an Xbox controller, a whisk, ice-cubes in the shape of people, a needle, lego brick(s), a sandal, a guitar, a broom, a lava-lamp, a ketchup bottle, a hairbrush, a straightener, multiple bottles of shampoo (since she only uses the tiny bottles that she steals from hotels), her gear stick, a D20 and a pack of instant noodles.

so obviously you were pleasantly surprised when Saeko actually went out and bought a real sex toy instead of just using one of her make-shift ones.

“Only the best for you, princess!”

oh, and this goes without saying, she’s a top

it’s not that you’re a bottom though because you are from it as you’ve attempted to top her on multiple occasions

but it just never goes your way so no matter how dominant and/or persistent you are, you always end up receiving

not that you have a problem with it but- when I say she goes hard, she goes hard

literally she’ll stop whatever she is going if you seem even remotely horny and as soon as you give her consent to go further, it’s game over for you, honey

also, she is very much an exhibitionist so she really doesn’t care if she’s being to loud while her brother/his friends are over

in short, when you saw that bright pink toy lying on her bed sheet especially for you - it didn’t take long for you to realise that you should probably pre-book a few days off from work because you won’t be able to walk for the next week-

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“Shut up, babe.” Saeko hissed at you, a evil smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, “They’re studying downstairs.”- not that she cared, she just enjoyed seeing you frustrated. So she couldn’t help but laugh at how much of a mess you were, sweat matting your hair to your forehead, your ass cheeks red from Saeko’s unmerciful palm, your leg twitching as you approached your orgasm and your mouth full of lewd moans being forced shut as Saeko insisted that you quiet down.

Saeko leaned in to whisper suggestive threats into your ear, “If I hear another sound leave that pretty little mouth of your’s, you’ll be punished later.” The tingle of her hot breath against your skin and the implications of what she said just aroused you even more, forcing you to repress your whines..for now.

Honestly, you seriously didn’t know if you could do it as surely, Saeko wasn’t aware of how differently it hit when she used a proper toy - or perhaps she just felt that cruel today. The optimum amount of pleasure you thought she was capable of bringing you was somehow doubled due to the mix of factors: her using a real toy designed to endue pleasure, the impressive balance of attention between your clit and ass, her erotic threats and the fact she was seriously going feral back there.

You were already close but her harsh groping of your ass, licking her fingers to provide the slightest bit of lubricant before sticking 3 digits straight into your strained, dripping cunt while her other hand tightened it’s grip on the back of your neck - all that was enough to tip you over the edge.

You thought you’d be able to ask for permission or at least give a warning before you came but your throbbing clit along with Saeko’s tip violently slamming against your g-spot left you unable to do so, while you attempt sounded a bit like, “I’m gonna- I-” followed by an involuntary, loud moan.

“Don’t you dare-” Saeko snapped teasingly, but obviously unprepared for how loud your moan would actually be - so rather than covering your mouth with her hand, for her own entertainment she slammed into your g-spot once more, this time with more force - leading to you choking on your own noise.

Saeko was used to leaving you out of breath and tired, so while your lay there with your ass up, trying to catch your breath; she took this opportunity to take off the strap (but left it dangling out your pussy since she wasn’t sure if you wanted her to take it out or not) and went to get some aloe-vera for your bright red ass and dark purple bruises on your neck.

“Geez, your pretty lil’ pussy could barely handle that. Maybe we should stick to the ketchup bottles.” She joked, squirting the aloe-vera onto her hands and gently gliding her hands across your lower back.

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested: OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works)

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez - catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame, crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek. you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea.

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible.

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters.

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other.

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting.

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again.

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you.

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.”

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom.

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still.

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie.

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically. he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck.

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours.

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters <33

#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #jewish richie tozier #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader

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hardyimagines · 4 years

Text

Sleepy

Eddie brock going out with his gf at like 3am to a cafe just to drink hot chocolate and chill cause they had trouble sleeping. Is that a decent one shot tiny idea thingy?

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The moon was bright in the night’s sky. Stars sprinkled the blank area surrounding the glowing orb, glittering in the sky vibrantly. The city below was dark, most homes cascaded in a sheet of black as the owners slept peacefully behind closed doors. There were cars that would occasionally speed down the empty streets, fleeing past the lights that had been tinted green for majority of the night. There were a few fast food restaurants still open, sleepy employees residing inside with bored expressions and droopy eyes as they impatiently waiting for the clocks on the wall to strike a certain time, signaling for their departure. And for the remaining people who remained awake along with the city, people like you and your boyfriend, it was night’s like these when you just couldn’t seem to fall into slumber.

The air outside was chilly, much chillier than it was during the day now that you were without the heated glow from the sun. You walked alongside your boyfriend, clumpy slippers slapping the pavement beneath you as you shuffled beside him. Your hair was drawn up in a messy bun, fingertips wrapped around a dark purple, fluffy blanket that you had lugged off the sofa on your way out the front door and clutched around your body. You had smeared eyeliner under your eyes from the night before and you were dressed down in a pair of pyjama pants that belonged to the man at your side but they were too small for him, yet still baggy on you, so you’d taken them. Your eyes dropped to the plaid material, studying it for half a second before your attention was pulled to the heavy weight added to your shoulders.

Eddie Brock moved along beside you, his arm now rested around you snugly. His fingertips were gentle on the comfy fabric of the blanket, rubbing your arm through the thick material as he continued to talk to you about the nightmare he’d seemed to keep slipping into throughout the night.

“I’m telling you, babe,” He sighed breathily, his breaths visible in the streetlights glow. “It was terrifying. I mean, really, imagine a sixty foot tall horse trampling over you.” He lifted his gaze to the trees in the distance, as if a dark shadow would emerge from the clutter of leaves to reveal itself as this creature his brain had conjured up.

“Eddie.” Your eyes fluttered as they drifted up to his own. Your long lashes tickled your cheeks every time you blinked. “Honey, you have a parasite living inside you, how can you possibly be scared of a horse.” The amusement in your tone told Eddie that you were merely teasing the symbiote that lived inside him by using the term Venom hated most. Parasite. The flicker of Venom in Eddie’s gaze made your lips curve up on one side into a lopsided smirk. Opening your blanket, you stepped in closer to him and weaved your strong grip around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

Eddie peered down at you, doing his best to ignore the internal complaints that Venom continued to drone on about. Eddie wished that your thoughts could be invaded just as his were. It really wasn’t fair that he had to suffer all on his own.

The conversation came to a halt when you drew the heavy door open that led to the diner. The place was small, a hole in the wall, but it was known for its family business and original recipes — not to mention it was delicious — so the customers would pile in on a daily basis, typically in the mornings. They were also open 24/7 and any business that was tended to be worthy of being so. You stepped inside, unsurprised to find that it was even colder inside the small building. Eddie held the door open and piled in directly after you, coming to a stop when his chest brushed against your back. He was taller than you, chin almost pressed against the back of your head as his hands lifted to graze your covered arms.

The redhead by the door was busy smacking on a piece of gum, pink apron tied around her waist with a frilly lace lining the bottom. She was wearing a frizzy wig and bright blue eyeshadow. It was all a part of the outfit that her mother insisted was adorable — and therefore good for business. She thought she looked like a cheap extra, auditioning for a role in some movie that took place in the 50’s. The name tag on her white shirt read ‘Margaret’ and as you parted your lips to greet her, she did the same. Her lengthy nails lifted to dip past the curls and scratch at the wig that had been irritating her scalp for hours.

“Welcome.” She smiled sweetly, almost too kindly. “Would you like a table or a booth?”

Eddie’s eyes were busy dragging along the length of the room. There weren’t many people inside, but why would there be? The only other people here at this time of night would be people who travelled for work, policemen, the elderly, and people like you — people who couldn’t sleep.

You shuffled in front of your boyfriend, arm lifting so you could point toward the booth in the corner. “Booth is fine.” You didn’t mean to suggest a specific one, it was just habit to animatedly use your hands.

Eddie’s eyes flickered back to the girl as she spoke to you, gathering two menu’s and a slip of paper with the specials scribbled along the front. “Right this way.” She sighed before stepping past the pair of you and leading you through the scattered tables. Eddie was dressed down in a dark grey hoodie and some jeans he’d yanked on when you snagged the blanket from the sofa. His hand managed to find yours as it barely crept out of the underside of the blanket. Taking it in his own, he followed you toward the table that the lady ushered toward. You slid into the booth and Eddie followed suit. The woman would’ve given the pair of you a look of judgement, but she was too tired to poke fun at the fact that you’d both settled for one side when booths were double-sided. She dropped the menu’s down on the table before ensuring she’d be right back.

You knew she was probably lying, no doubt heading into the back to prepare some coffee and cups of water before she’d slip out the back door for a quick cigarette. Well, you assumed so since she stunk of ash and smoke, not that it bothered you. It wasn’t as if the pair of you were in a rush to get back home so you wouldn’t have minded if she climbed into her car and drove off to buy a pack of cigarettes, much less had a quick one in the alley. You frowned softly, realizing that you were lost in your thoughts and analyzing such a small thing. If it weren’t for Eddie’s raised brows and inquisitive stare you probably would’ve remained there, inspecting each person tucked away inside.

You didn’t feel the sleepy droopiness yanking at your stubborn eyelids just yet so you fixed them on your boyfriend. A slow smile pulled at your lips. Unlike you, he did look exhausted. He had forming bags under his eyes that left a visible dark shadow and his chin was propped up in his palm, supporting the weight of it since he didn’t have a pillow to lay on. It wouldn’t matter if he did and it didn’t matter that his eyes begged him to close. He couldn’t find the oblivion that was ordinarily so easy.

“So,” You spoke up as you grabbed ahold of one of the menu’s. Lifting it so you could inspect the muddled words in front of you, your heart sank. The font was small on the plastic, rectangular card. “Shit, i didn’t bring my contacts.”

Eddie’s brows arched at your choice of words before directing his stare toward the menu you clutched. Lifting his arm, he draped it across your shoulders, warm and exposed muscles grazing the softness of the purple blanket you still had draped around your body. “Here, I’ll read it to you.” He mumbled out, voice drowning with tiredness. He grasped one corner of the sheet but instead of dragging it away from you, he slid across the seat so that your bodies were closer together. Staring down at the options, he tried to keep it simple instead of running through a hundred different items. “Do you know sort of what you want?” He inquired, heavy breaths tickling your shoulder and cheek.

You craned you’re neck to the side, lips almost bumping his cheek. “Um.. pancakes.”

“Plain?” He grunted, doing his best to avoid the breaths of yours that tickled his rough skin.

“Plain?” You scoffed. “Are you sure you’re my boyfriend?” Plucking the menu away from him completely, you discarded it back on the clean table before rotating on the squishy cushion to face him.

“Nutella.” He corrected himself, looking in your direction slowly. Even sitting, he was taller than you. His fingertips pressed against your arm firmly, dragging you toward him so that you were forced to meet him in the middle for a gentle kiss.

“Mh, there you go.” You mumbled against his lips, not daring to break it first.

His smile broke the lip lock, teeth on show and therefore forcing your lips to graze his pearly whites. “Nutella is so sticky. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” His eyes were tinted over with amusement. “You’re disgusting.”

“Funny you should say that.. last time I had Nutella smeared on my lips, you licked it off.” Your brows arched in an accusing manner. “So clearly I’m not that disgusting.”

Eddie chuckled under his breath at the memory that formed in his head. Turning toward the little machine perched on the corner of the table, he drew it toward him to rest so he could type in your order. “Two pancakes?” He asked quietly.

Your eyes moved to the screen. The longer you thought about the pancakes, the lesser they seemed to appeal to you. Pursing your lips, you reached out and let your hand cover his own, big eyes squinting. “Nevermind, Baby. I don’t think I’m hungry enough for food.” Your eyes lit up at the beverages. “I think I just want a hot chocolate.”

Eddie turned his head toward your own to inspect you. “Are you sure? We can always bring them home if you don’t eat them all.” He offered.

The table in front of the pair of you blinked, waiting for the order to be placed. Eddie waited for your response, but you were busy scrolling through the lengthy list of flavors that they could add into the hot, creamy, mug of chocolate. You’d grown up hating the cup of goodness. You could hear your mother’s faint voice as she asked you if you were interested in a cup. You’d stick your tongue out in distaste before claiming that it was too sweet for your liking. Now, you drank it so often that Eddie joked at times you should just grow out a mustache — seeing as you typically had a faux chocolate one across your upper lip most mornings.

“No,” You finally spoke up quietly, pressing on a cup of hot chocolate with a cocoa stick and whipped cream. “It’s okay, baby, really. I think I’m just trying to convince myself I’m hungry because we’re here, but i probably wouldn’t even be able to take one bite, I know it.” Kissing his rough, stubbly cheek, you lingered in place before offering the tablet up to him. Eddie was the farthest thing from picky so with a brief inspection of what you’d ordered, he pressed the small ‘1’ that resided beside your drink and changed it to a ‘2’ so he could have the exact same thing.

In the corner of the room, a small computer lit up brightly with your order. You briefly looked in the direction where the quiet ding erupted from before lifting your hand to the back of your boyfriends neck. Giving him your sole attention, you ignored the woman — a different woman than the one who had seated you.

Eddie set his elbow on the table and let a heavy breath of air escape his lips. He was tired, but it seemed that the only time his body was willing to sleep was at the worst times. Now was not the most opportune moment and yet there he sat in the bright diner, chilly air wrapped around his body as he sat in the booth with droopy eyes directed at you.

Your hand lifted to his hair, brushing through the thick strands slowly, smoothing them down. “You know, for a person who couldn’t get any sleep, you sure do look like you’re on the verge of passing out.”

Eddie smirked toward you before leaning in and slowly wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His lips moved to your own, stealing a few soft kisses before he shrunk back against the chair and directed his stare toward the table. “It’s a lot easier to sleep when I’m not suppose to be.” He grunted. “And Venom’s being awfully quiet so that helps too.”

Your eyes searched his for a few moments, wondering silently if the symbiote’s need to talk all night was what kept your boyfriend up at such late hours. “Well we can take our hot chocolate’s to go.” You murmured sleepily. The bright light was beaming down on your sensitive eyes, forcing them to grow droopy just as Eddie’s had. “Maybe we need to start sleeping with our bedroom lights on and our air conditioner on high.”

Eddie chuckled lowly before moving his hand to rest on your upper back. He traced lazy shapes along your skin, over your shirt. “We can stay here. We’ll grow sleepier and sleepier and then when we get home, hopefully we’ll pass out.” He drew you toward him so your head could lay against his broad chest. The sound of his heartbeat comforted you, lulling your droopy eyes to flutter before closing. The pair of you were probably a sight, curled up in the small booth pressed against one another while you waited for your drinks.

Shockingly, it didn’t take long at all before a waitress came sauntering over with a tiny try. She lifted each mug by the warm handles and set them on the table in front of each of you before taking the tablet and setting the screen to check-out. She made sure there was nothing else either of you needed before excusing herself so she could tend to the other tables. Not chocolate must’ve been very popular at this hour because you hadn’t had to wait very long. You lifted your head away from Eddie’s chest, unsurprised to find that it felt so heavy. Peering down at the whipped cream that lined the rim of your mug, you leaned forward and licked the topping before looking toward your boyfriend when he did the exact same. The only difference was that he’d managed to smear some on his nose. You didn’t have a chance to point it out before he lifted his hand to his face and with the back of his wrist, wiped away the smudge. You smiled fondly toward the man before slipping your hand beneath the table and letting your fingertips graze his thigh. It was innocent. A touch just to touch him. But he sent you a side glance either way, inspecting your true intentions for only a moment before his hand lowered to cover your own.

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you. The only sounds present were your occasional giggles when he was messy due to the cream. The hot beverage was soothing on your throat, it made your body internally hot but weirdly comfortable. It was probably because of how cold it was inside the establishment. Eddie leaned his head to the side and let his temple find your shoulder as he continued to sip at the chocolate.

“We should’ve drove.” He finally spoke. His voice was heavy and low. The gruffness of it told you all you needed to know — he didn’t feel like walking. Especially not now, now that his limbs were deadweights and his body was ready to absolutely collapse. He leaned against your body further, arm moving to loop around your waist. You lifted your hand to his hair and began to caress the messy strands. With your free hand, you adjusted the blanket that was draped around you and made it so that it laid across him as well.

“I can get us an uber, baby. Don’t worry about walking.” You assured him. Sending a look toward a waitress in the corner, who’d been gawking at Eddie for what seemed like the second she handed him his hot chocolate, you turned your head and kissed his nose softly. It was the easiest part of him to reach. You were unsurprised when his head tipped and he leaned in for an even better kiss. Your lips pressed to his own for a few seconds before you drew back and pulled your phone from the little zip on the front of your purse. Eddie watched the blinding light from your phone before his eyes slid shut. He could hear the faint tapping of your thumbs as you clicked the little icons and typed in the addresses. Your hot chocolate wasn’t even close to being finished though, so before confirming the ride, you set your phone on the table so it would be ready when the pair of you were.

As you sipped your got chocolate, indulging in pointless conversation every now and then, Eddie remained slumped against you with his mouth hanging partially open and his eyes closed completely. It was only when you were in the middle of discussing the strangeness about chocolate being able to rock them to sleep that you heard a faint, little snore leave his lips. Your head turned, inspecting the big, sleepy bear. Your heart tightened and a little smile graced your lips. You figured you could get his hot chocolate to go, but he wouldn’t drink it cold and he’d insist it didn’t taste the same if he warmed it up. You reached around his body for the little screen on the ledge and pulled your wallet from your pocket so you could pay for the drinks.

Eddie’s body followed your shoulder wherever it went and when you began to squirm to get back in your regular position, he sleepily wrapped his arms around your body more securely. You could tell, with each passing second, that he was falling deeper and deeper asleep. So the guilt that pooled in your stomach seemed to instantly swallow you whole.

How the hell were you going to wake him up and get him to the uber?

He was finally sleeping.

The envy that flooded you intertwined with the guilt though and as you felt the reluctance to wake him, you also felt the desire to join him. Your hands fell to his hard shoulders, squeezing them tenderly before your thumb mashed the ‘confirm’ button on your phone. You supposed you could let him sleep until the headlights rolled up outside. Tilting your head so that it rested against his own, you let your eyes flutter just for the time being. The driver was still 8 minutes away, so you figured it would be okay to just rest your eyes.

The waitress in the corner lifted a brow. The pair of you definitely were a sight. Sitting in a booth, laid against one another with a frilly blanket draped around you. The glow from your phone pulled her gaze to the glass door, peering outside. She wasn’t stupid. Loads of people came to the diner at all hours in the morning. You weren’t the first couple to fall asleep while waiting for your ride, and you wouldn’t be the last. She crept up to the table and cleaned the dishes off the surface before making her way back to the counter. Along with waitressing and clean up duty, she also considered herself to be an alarm clock — for she would wonder over and wake any slumbering customers when their lifts had arrived. She slumped against the wall and waited patiently, arms folding over her chest and big green eyes sliding along the darkness that kissed the windows. Patience seemed to be a necessity — a requirement for this job. She was lucky she had plenty.

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A/N: I know this is shitty and very simple, but I’ve gotta her back into it 🥺💞 thank you so much for your patience!!

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #venom

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