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joequiinn · 21 days

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 1

[all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Was I the only one who turned 18 a month into their senior year and then proceeded to spiral and become The Worst version of themself possible?? Well, this fic is semi-inspired by that shitty part of my life lmao. Reader figure skates though. I can’t figure skate, hurts my feet lol. I never expected to write a fake dating story, but Eddie Munson has had me bewitched for nearly 2 years now, so here we go.

(if you'd like to be added to a tag list, pls let me know!)

wc: 3.9k

Chapter One

The idea came to you during a student council meeting as the class president was droning on about the ‘85 homecoming preparations: you needed to do something crazy, something completely and utterly out of character.

Maybe it was because of your ex breaking up with you just weeks before school started. Maybe it was that senior year itch. Maybe it was the realization that you were turning 18 next week. Hell, maybe you just woke up that morning with a strong sense that the things in your life were no longer satisfying you.

Whatever the cause, since the start of your senior year, you’ve just felt so off.

Your ex, Duncan, breaking up with you right before school started was a low blow, and an absolutely shitty feeling - you didn’t date much, but when you did, it was never the guy that ended things. It wasn’t shitty because you were in love and oh so heartbreak, it wasn’t shitty because you saw a future with him. It was shitty because of how goddamn embarrassing it was.

To your peers, you were a couple that made sense, and in fact people had been urging you to go out for a while. And, obviously, you had grown to like him, considering that you were in a relationship for six months - you never would have put up with him for that long if you didn’t actually like him. But the fact that he broke up with you, and not the other way around, left a sour, spiteful taste in your mouth.

So, perhaps it was that break-up that made you feel different this entire month. Or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, which made you realize just how close you were to legal adulthood. Whatever the cause, every single aspect of your life up to this point suddenly came under your deep scrutiny. You just weren’t… happy?

That made it sound bad, but what were you enjoying right now? What got you excited every day? As you sat in the student council meeting, zoning out since the very start, you came to think that maybe you had nothing going on right now that you genuinely wanted in your life.

Hell, you weren’t even on the student council because you enjoyed it, Janet just dragged you into it back in your sophomore year. You figured she loved the sense of importance it gave her. She and everyone else in the council probably got off on how important they felt, the dictators of Hawkins High School.

You always ran in this crowd, and before you never questioned it. The popular kids, the rich kids, the successful kids. You don’t remember ever choosing these friends and acquaintances - if anything, it seemed that these peers were all a constant, as if they’d always been there from the very start. You figured it was the natural state of the world - as the daughter of one of the richest men in town, you were predestined to end up here. Not here as in the student council, surrounded by other spoiled rich kids debating the difference between turquoise and cyan. But here in an even broader sense - in a finely curated life, in all the “right” circles, on the path to either greatness or becoming the trophy wife of greatness.

Up until now, you’d never questioned it. Yes, mom and dad, you were a popular kid whose free time was fully booked between college prep, figure skating, student council, dates with a cookie-cutter boyfriend, and everything else under the sun. Yes, mom and dad, you were doing everything they all told you too because it would look great on your college applications, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, because that’s how things have always been done.

It started to dawn on you maybe a week or so into the school year just how mundane you were - you never questioned your time spent skating or on extracurriculars, you never went against the order of things as dictated by only the most popular of your peers. That’s just what was done, what was always done. But after your ex dared to break up with you, you came to realize recently that maybe all of this wasn’t what you wanted - maybe it was time to start making some choices for yourself instead of worrying what your parents told you or what your peers thought or what to do to keep your boyfriend semi-happy.

So, you started to consider what exactly it was that you wanted. And that proved to be more challenging than you anticipated, which probably would have sounded extremely pathetic if you had said it to any of the people sitting next to you.

Did you like figure skating? Of course, it was your idea after all. What you didn’t like was the pressure from your mother to train and become an Olympian, a feat that was never your intention when you took up the sport at six years old. Besides, you told her, you were way past the age for trials, you’d never get in (or, at least, that’s what you told her, because how the hell would you know whether or not there was a cut off age).

Did you like your friends? You thought so - you’d known them virtually your entire life, so you never questioned your relationship with them. But proximity didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with likeability. Maybe some of them you actually liked, but the rest? No, they were just around because they always had been.

Did you like your relationship before Duncan broke up with you? No, probably not. Of course, your opinion of him and that entire relationship was soured now, but even at the time, you were probably just going through the motions, doing things that couples do without any real heart in it.

So… What did you want? What did you actually like?

It was jarring to realize that your entire life had been dictated and finely tuned for you from the moment you were born, that even the things you wanted had been molded into new shapes by your parents or your peers or your teachers.

Once you realized how little of your life was in your own hands, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You always saw yourself as someone who was in control, as someone who couldn’t be told shit. And yet, you came to realize that that was far from the truth. It was as if suddenly everything about your life was something you hated. You hated your classes, you hated your friends, you hated running in the same circle as your ex, you hated all your obligations. Through the first few weeks of senior year, all you felt was frustration, disinterest, and absolute boredom with everything around you. Something had to change. And during the bullshit student council meeting, you became determined to make it happen.

So, over the course of that boring as all hell meeting, you tried to figure out what you wanted, and how you were going to get it. You set a goal for yourself, silly but helpful considering the structure you were so accustomed to: you’d set your plan in motion on your birthday. New year, new you, right?

Once you gave yourself that deadline, you then had to think about what exactly you were trying to accomplish - yes, you wanted to make some major changes, you wanted to, in a way, become a new person, but how were you going to do that?

You settled on four key things to keep in mind:

You wanted to piss off your parents big time - your dad barely acknowledged your existence and your mom coddled you, so actually upsetting them would be a feat unto itself. You had to become so awful that even your mother would stop making excuses for you.

You needed to drop your friends - the more you thought about all the people you grew up alongside, the more you realized that you weren’t particularly interested in relationships with any of them. Whether you made new friends or not wasn’t a priority, in fact you kind of liked the idea of just being left alone.

You had to figure out what you actually enjoyed - outside of skating, you had no idea what really interested you, what you would like to do with your life and your free time. You figured it was time to do some self reflection and focus on finding things that you’d actually enjoy.

And, most importantly, you had to get back at your ex. Yeah, it was stupid to be motivated by a boy, but nothing would make you happier than seeing him worked up and frustrated. Your focus wasn’t on trying to win him back or anything like that - you wanted to piss him off, to exact some kind of revenge for making you look like an idiot when he broke up with you at a party that all your friends had attended.

How you were going to accomplish these, however, was yet to be determined. But they were a damn good starting point, and they got you motivated to become an absolute nuisance to everyone around.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The Friday following the student council meeting, you decided to first experiment with a little something, satiate a mild curiosity. To anyone else, it was probably the most mundane thing in the world, but to a high schooler who thought graduation was life or death, doing anything out of the ordinary felt nail-biting.

You were going to sit at a new lunch table.

You had just two days left until your birthday, until you’d officially set your plan in motion, so you still had a little more time to come up with something. So far, you couldn’t think of shit. You were already someone who was blunt and commanding and mean, whose thoughts and feelings were always on your face, so people were used to you being bossy and a little miserable - you couldn’t start being meaner or blunter, you just knew that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe you could start skipping class, maybe you could start flaking on friends, but somehow none of that felt like enough, like it wouldn’t make a statement. You had to really make an impression, to really set yourself up for a total ruination of your social status, you just hadn’t figured out how.

But a new lunch table was as good a starting point as any, right?

You chose a table at the far end of the lunchroom; customarily your group of friends, acquaintances, and ex sat centrally, surrounded by the jocks on one side and the academics on the other. The new table you chose was only occupied by two other people, a dorky little couple who looked at you funny when you sat as far from them as possible. In turn, you gave them an icy cold glare, prompting them to look away quickly, like you were a Medusa who could turn them to stone.

Your stupid little lunchroom plan was a bust, though. Five minutes into your peaceful lunch, your two closest friends, Amelia and Janet found you, each looking perplexed and put-off by your seat of choice. They looked around before lowering into the seats around you, their expression full of something akin to disgust, as if sitting at a different table was that offensive.

“What are we doing over here?” Amelia asked judgmentally, eyeing the couple at the opposite end of the table. Across the lunchroom, a few people (including Duncan) from your usual lunch table looked at you funny, “It’s like we’re exiled or something.”

So dramatic, you thought while staring harshly at her.

“Change of scenery.” You answered plainly, stabbing at the food in front of you. Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, but still made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the decision.

“What, does this have something to do with Duncan?” She jabbed, receiving another nasty look from you, “So, he’s a jerk? Get over it.”

You should’ve known this idea was too simple to work. Of course they’d just follow you like the lemmings that they were, just as unable to make their own decisions as you were. Yeah, you definitely needed to try something bigger to scare them off.

Briefly, you thought that you could maybe tell them, just say point blank, “Amelia, Janet, I hate being around you and this friendship is done.” But, again, you figured that wouldn’t be good enough, that they’d laugh at your mean sense of humor even if you reiterated yourself. In this crowd, being mean was never enough to make your point, because all of you were nasty, not only to each other but to virtually everyone you met.

And despite your well-known attitude problem, you still cared about Amelia and Janet, flaws and all. These were the girls that you’d known since you were five years old, of course you worried about their feelings at least a little bit - nearly 13 years of friendship would do that to anyone. Guess you had more of a heart than you gave yourself credit for.

You definitely needed a foolproof plan to get out of this friendship, this social circle, this popular bubble that you’d always been trapped in. The friendship had to end without you saying so. You had to push them out until they finally gave up on you. Make it seem like it was their idea, that would definitely work on them.

As you schemed, Amelia and Janet chatted around you. Various acquaintances stopped by the table, all with the same question: what the hell were you guys doing sitting all the way out here? Even Duncan was amongst those that asked, trying to ignore the way you glared daggers at him. Amelia and Janet gave various responses, all of which put blame on you as if this simple little decision meant their utter ruination.

As Duncan was preparing to walk back to your usual lunch table, a commotion rose out in the hallway, the echo of rapid footfall drifting in through the doors. Multiple heads turned to face the cafeteria doors with curiosity, some people peeked out into the hall to check what the yelling was about, scurrying back to their friends to report what they’d seen. You, Amelia, Janet, and Duncan all waited silently, sharing raised brows and curious looks.

Not even a minute later, Eddie freaking Munson came crashing into the lunchroom, a look of total glee on his face as he cackled, not even remotely fazed by all the eyes on him. As he tumbled through the cafeteria doors, you jumped a little at the burst of sound. Eddie’s disruption turned everyone’s heads now, the lunchroom silent in shock and loathing as the resident outcast ran between tables, heading for the set of doors at the opposite end of the room. Your gaze was locked on the shit disturber as he blew past your table, carelessly running into Duncan in the process, but even that collision didn’t slow him down. Duncan yelled at him, but Eddie was focused on one goal, and if this were a cartoon you definitely would have seen dust kick up behind him from how quickly he was moving.

Not too far behind was Coach Miller, a look of absolute rage marring his puffy red face as he pursued Eddie. It didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire student body - his only focus was stopping the offender of whatever shenanigans currently pissed him off.

Your gaze turned back to the excited Eddie, an undeniable curiosity rising in you - what the hell did he do to piss off Coach Miller this bad? Sure, the coach was always pretty damn temperamental, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing him look quite this upset before.

Eddie paused at the cafeteria doors to turn and pull a mocking face at the coach before darting from the room, as if nothing in the world could touch him and he was unstoppable.

As Coach Miller disappeared after Eddie and students returned to their usual conversations, albeit with an air of awkwardness, you stared at the cafeteria doors thoughtfully.

That’s when an idea began to form.

You needed to take a page out of Eddie Munson’s book. If anyone in this school knew how to be a thorn in everyone’s side, it was him. So, you spent the remainder of your lunch brainstorming, trying to figure out how to channel even a sliver of Eddie’s energy; you only chimed into the conversation when someone spoke to you directly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

In the middle of fifth period, you still weren’t quite sure what your game plan was, but you at least had a vague starting point. While your history teacher rambled on about some significant European war that you couldn’t begin to care about, you tapped your pencil as you thought about Eddie Munson (a sentence that very nearly grossed you out).

You’ve known about him since your freshman year - at the time, he was a year ahead of you, but since then he’d been held back. People always sneered when talking about him, as if Eddie was the most offensive thing they’d ever encountered, as if he was some kind of plague. He went against all social norms you’d learned up to that point, he was contradictory to everything you’d ever been taught about social conduct and likeability - he wore ratty clothes, listened to scary music, acted out in the most theatrical ways possible, and never seemed to give a shit what anyone thought.

You had never spoken to Eddie personally. Through the years you’d had a few classes together, including your math class this year, so you’ve witnessed some of his antics. But really, you knew nothing about the guy. Just the things that everyone else told you, and those things were nothing good. Whether or not Eddie was as bad as people said didn’t matter to you. His reputation was shit, and in this instance that’s exactly what you needed.

So, how were you going to ruin your senior year with the help of Eddie Munson? Well, at the very least, maybe you first had to have a conversation with him. It would be pretty stupid to walk up to him and go “hey, Munson, I know everyone here hates you, how about we chat and you make them hate me, too!”

Maybe you needed to find a way to hang out with him? Pretend to be friends long enough that the rest of the student body begins to ostracize you? With a little amused huff, an even worse thought crossed you: maybe you needed to pretend you were interested in Eddie Munson for a while, that was sure to piss just about everyone off. Especially Duncan.

But then the idea gave you pause.

You could not pretend to flirt with, or even date, Eddie fucking Munson. No chance in hell that would work. No way he would go for it, and no way you’d be able to tolerate him long enough to convince anyone that you were even remotely into him.

But… maybe?

Shit, what a stupid idea.

Or maybe it was a brilliant one.

You mulled it over a few minutes longer - if you were going to, somehow, convince Eddie Munson to pretend to date you, you needed to offer him something in exchange, that was obvious. You needed to give him a good reason to help you out, or this plan was never going to work. Its chances of success already seemed slim to none.

You had one idea, though you weren’t entirely certain if he’d go for it.

Your Uncle Tom was a cop, had been with the force your entire life - and you’d bet he’s probably had at least one run-in with Eddie. Maybe you’d tell Eddie that you could get cops to leave him alone, to stop watching him wearily whenever they were around. You couldn’t promise him too much, of course, but you knew at the very least that you could get your uncle to leave him alone. Or you could even take the fall here and there for whatever trouble Eddie inevitably lands himself in - what cop was stupid enough to arrest the niece of a cop and the daughter of a man who owned half of Hawkins?

It wasn’t foolproof, and you knew there were flaws to be found, but it just might work.

So, with your mind made up, you rip a scrap of paper from your notebook and scribble out a quick message:

Let’s make a deal. Sunday. You pick the time and place. Locker #436

You’d hoped that Eddie would be smart enough to realize that you wanted him to write you back, to drop his own stupid note in your locker so you could meet up and tell him your stupid, crazy idea. God, this better work.

You swiftly raise your hand in the air, giving a small impatient wave when your teacher didn’t acknowledge you right away, instead trying to focus on his lecture.

He rolled his eyes when he spotted your hand in the air, pointing at you and saying in an annoyed monotone, “What’s so important that you’re interrupting?”

Without any hesitation, you state bluntly, “Lady troubles.”

The teacher looks shocked by how plainly you stated it. But because it was you that said it and not someone else, your peers didn’t dare laugh, although a couple boys seemed to choke in surprise or amusement.

“Go, go…” Your teacher waved you off before continuing his lecture, wanting to forget the small interaction entirely.

You exited the room and roamed the halls confidently. Eddie’s locker wasn’t hard to miss - he was one of the students that decorated the metal with crude permanent marker sketches, and the school was too cheap to care about replacing or painting over it. As you approached Eddie’s locker, you checked around to make sure no one spotted you; it wasn’t as if you were committing a crime, but you didn’t need anyone wondering what you were up to in case this plan didn’t work.

So, you slipped the note into his locker, returned to class, and waited impatiently for the final bell of the day to ring, hoping that Eddie would actually stop by his locker and not just leave school without ever seeing your note.

When the end of the day came, it took everything in your power not to rush back to your own locker - just in case, you didn’t want him spotting you there. Why all the secrecy, you sure as hell didn’t know, but you nonetheless continued it.

So, you waited, stopping into the bathroom to check your makeup, walking with Amelia and Janet as they stopped at their own lockers. As the three of you exited the building and walked into the parking lot, you pretended to remember something, telling them that you needed to run back inside. You said your quick goodbyes and went back to wandering the halls, finally opening up your own locker.

It was stupid that your heart leapt when you saw a crudely torn piece of paper resting on top of some of your belongings.

You opened it quickly, eagerly reading the metalhead’s response:

Picnic table behind the football field, 4.

God, what were you getting yourself into.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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locked-tomb-shenanigans · 1 year

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Listen I’m sure someone has already talked about this scene, and way better than I ever could, but it makes me so feral and I need to talk about it too

This is hands down the most depressing scene in the entirety of NtN in my opinion.

Surface level it’s Gideon yelling at Crux, but the significance here comes from the exact word choice. “You could have lived for her. But you didn’t know how.”

She uses past tense.

It’s not about Crux (who arguably did live for Harrow, considering his purpose was raising and protecting her, and could by all means still do this if he changed his mind about dying for Harrow.) It’s not about the congregation who worshipped her.

It’s about Gideon, who can’t live for Harrow anymore, because she’s dead. It’s about the promise she broke at the end of the first book. She’s talking about herself.

Harrow made her promise that when it comes down to it, Gideon needs to save herself. If only one of them can survive, it has to be Gideon.

At the end of the first book, Harrow is actively planning to sacrifice herself so Gideon can live, bringing up the promise and then diving into what this is actually about. Namely, how she owes Gideon her life back.

And Gideon breaks that promise, instead deciding to sacrifice herself for Harrow.

“I can’t keep my promise because the entire point of me is you. There is no me without you.”

Gideon doesn’t know how to live for Harrow, how to exist without her, even though it’s the most important thing Harrow ever asked of her—and so she dies for her instead.

“You could have lived for her. But you didn’t know how.”

And the sacrifice ended up being rejected by Harrow, because it’s not what Harrow wanted. It never was. So Gideon ended up feeling rejected and like her life and giving it up wasn’t worth anything. And she still immediately offers herself up again without hesitation. She’s ready to die for Harrow all over again, even now that she’s already dead.

“Die. Die for her. It’s the only goddamn good you’ll ever do her.”

Gideon is fucking furious—so much that Nona can’t even place her voice anymore—but not at any of the people who would rightfully deserve her fury. Not at Crux. She’s furious at herself. This whole scene is so damn heartbreaking to me.

And out of all the cruel things Crux has done to Gideon throughout her life, this might be the worst one: telling the girl who died for the Reverend Daughter once and was ready to die for her a second time that she couldn’t even get that right. That she managed to screw up the one purpose she was actually supposed to serve, the only good she’s ever done for Harrow.

Gideon is dead. She can’t do what Harrow asked and live for her anymore. What the hell is she supposed to do if she can’t die for her, either?

#I have so many feelings about this scene in particular #someone please give my poor girl a hug #and therapy #so much therapy #Griddlehark #the locked tomb #tlt #Gideon nav #Harrowhark Nonagesimus #Kiriona Gaia #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #ntn spoilers #Gideon x Harrow #harrow x gideon #crux tlt

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myysaints · 10 months

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°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ JUST MY LUCK ─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!reader

⌗︙・ summary — in which lando starts flirting with a (not-so-)random girl on the internet.

genre — social media au, fc hannah kae

notes — kinda disappointing finish to yesterday's gp :( but to make up for that here's something simple & cute !!! churned this one out in one day bc by god i love that little frog man with my whole heart. tbh this is just a shameless self insert ..... also rewrote history a tad bit by making lando finish on the podium at monaco because why not LOL hope u enjoyyyy xx

lando.jpg

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lando.jpg Monaco, I’m ready for ya.

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bambiyn and i’m ready for u !!!!!!!

bambiyn talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular…

bambiyn why am i sweating rn

bambiyn goddamn

bambiyn my fav driver everyone !!!!!!

bambiyn my dms (and legs) r open btw 😁😁

Liked by lando.jpg yourbestfriend Y/N OH MY GOD…. THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP… bambiyn …ok… and? user yo wtf lando liked????

danielricciardo Lando I love you but not as much as that girl in the comments

bambiyn ok i feel called out danielricciardo Oh, hey there! bambiyn HIIII!!!!!

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bambiyn

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bambiyn yeah ok so monaco’s kinda cool

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user marry me

user didn’t know angels existed until i saw you 😩

user mother is in monaco!!!!

yourbestfriend “kinda cool” … says the girl who freaked out literally every 5 steps we took because “oh my god look at that car”

bambiyn the cars here are sick okay idk what u want from me !

landonorris only kinda?

bambiyn maybe if u finish on the podium on sunday… then it’d be cooler user LMFAOOOOO y/n never misses

landonorris But welcome to Monaco 🙃

bambiyn thank uuuuu!!! user girlie hit him with the five u’s GET UP Y/N

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f1wagupdates

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f1wagupdates Submitted by Anon ❤️ Looks like things are heating up in Monaco for Lando Norris! He was spotted last night on a dinner date with a mystery woman. A source close to the McLaren driver tells us that he is “very very content” in his new relationship, and is “excited to take on this weekend with her by his side”. As for who Lando’s secret lover is, we have it on good authority that, though she is a public figure, she is nowhere near her beau’s status of fame. Follow for more updates on all things wag-related 🏎

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user arms…. hand placement…. RAHGRFGAHFRH

user god i wish that were me 😩

user someone check up on bambiyn… ik shes heartbroken rn

bambiyn my world is literally collapsing as i type this

bambiyn damn 💔

bambiyn so that’s how it be then 😭😭

yourbestfriend heartbreak. betrayal.

bambiyn like damn i really thought i was the one 😔 user LMFAOOO girl ur hilarious

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www.youtube.com/Formula1

POST-RACE INTERVIEW WITH LANDO NORRIS | MONACO GRAND PRIX 2023

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🏷 landonorris, lando.jpg

bambiyn thanks people magazine for finally letting me post my man. happy 5 months to my prince charming!! ♡ ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა xx

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landonorris Best 5 months of my life

landonorris You make my heart hurt silly

landonorris my forever girl

danielricciardo You’re too good for him Y/N!!!

bambiyn ikr… user get off your high horse smh youre nothing special he’ll dump u in a week landonorris Yk I can read your comments right? Don’t be a fucking prick in my girl’s comment section. user “my girl’s comment section” im gonna go feral

user hey god it’s me again…

georgerussell63 Great meeting you Y/N! You two make a great couple 👍

landonorris Mate what is with you and typing like youre 50 years old

landonorris

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🏷 bambiyn

landonorris 5 marvellous months with the missus ❤️ To my sweetheart, I love you dummy. I love you and your weird little keyboard face things. i love the little hop you do whenever you see something you like. The way you always smell like cotton candy and clouds and vanilla and cookies. How you laugh at all my jokes even when theyre kinda shit. The fact you still don’t know how to drive stick shift (drives me crazy but anyways). Thank you for being mine baby, here’s to a million more 5 months with you 🥂

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danielricciardo aww thanks babe

landonorris 💀💀 danielricciardo But on a serious note, I’m so happy for you guys. You got a good thing going bro 👊 landonorris Sure do mate

bambiyn a million kisses for u when u get home (´꒳`)♡

landonorris eagerly looking forward landonorris (❤ω❤) landonorris Did i do it right bambiyn YESSSS !!!! proud of u baby hehe ur so cute landonorris >:)

user we still don’t know what that crazy night was abt lol

bambiyn omg yeah thank u for reminding me !

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BONUS:

You have [1] unread message.

[4:21 PM] vroom vroom baby: I saw your recent insta story.... 😉😉

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: mmhmmmmm

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: and what about it…?

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: nothing it was

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: It was perfect

[4:25 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just…

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: justttt?

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just that I was thinking

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: If u wanted ofc

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: We could

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: recreate it…

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: ?

[4:31 PM] dummy ❤️: is this ur way of asking me to come over

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: 🥺

[4:31 PM] vroom vroom baby: no….

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: ok yes

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: i’ll be over in 5 !!!

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: See you soon gorgeous

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: tsch

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: you spoil me

[4:38 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just speaking the facts 💯

#lando norris x reader #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #lando norris social media au #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🏁] formula 1

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clementine-thedestroyer · 4 months

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Sometimes, I wish I was as important as your email inbox - John Price x reader

Warnings/tags: Hurt comfort, could be considered angst. Miscommunication(?) established relationship, fem!reader. This was supposed to be pwp... then it turned in to this unholy abomination of hurt comfort because I have daddy issues and can’t fucking do this.

In which, Price has been a bit extra busy with work, and reader feels a bit… alone.

You open the door and step out of the bathroom, tugging your towel tighter around yourself as the steamy warmth from your shower mixes with the relatively cold air of the bedroom.

Price is sitting on your bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out and phone in hand as he scrolls through the device- likely for something work related. When he sees you step out of the bathroom, his eyes flit towards you and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

You hadn’t expected him to be home yet. For the past week, he’d been leaving early and getting back late. Usually, he left early enough that it was still dark outside, and that the only goodbye you’d get was a gentle nudge to wake you up and a kiss on the forehead- followed by a goodbye and a reassurance he’d be back before you knew it. You knew he had to go, it was some week-long training he was helping to administer- but that didn’t help to soothe the loneliness that came with an empty house and waking up to a cold spot where your husband usually lay.

Most of the time, it was dark again by the time he got back. And he was too exhausted to do much more than shower, collapse into bed next to you, and mumble a few “love you’s” before tugging you against his chest and using you as a body pillow for the night.

Tonight though, he was home earlier than usual.

Not by much- it was still late, and had you been given another thirty minutes, you’d probably have been curled up in bed and- judging by how exhausted you felt- probably completely passed out. And of course- though he may be home earlier than expected… he wasn’t really free. The texts, emails, and paperwork were what most commonly followed him home from work- and it was stupid to be jealous of paperwork or goddamn Gmail. You knew that. You told yourself that constantly. You also constantly reminded yourself that you chose this, you knew what you were getting into with this man. But that didn’t help how starved you’d become for his touch and affection. And it certainly didn't help the nights where you would fall asleep next to your Price, yet feel more alone than ever- because there was something heartbreaking about falling asleep feeling cold, lonely, and unwanted, with the man you loved right next to you- but too busy with what felt like constant work.

Although… As much as you hated those nights, it was still better than when Price would come back with new injuries and guilt weighing heavy on his shoulder.

Today had been a bit of a rough day for you. Tiering, to say the least… especially now, as you realized tonight was shaping up to be one of the ones that hurt the most. And despite the guilt you felt at not even attempting conversation with Price after nearly a week of only goodbyes and goodnights, you really wanted nothing more than to put on your comfiest pajamas and curl up for sleep.

You missed him dearly, but you were too emotionally and mentally drained to figure out what to do about it. Frankly, this was the only thing your exhausted self could think to do: go to sleep and hope that the rest of this (particularly) dreadful week passes quickly.

As exhausted as you may be… you also know that Price is probably about to stand up to take a shower of his own now that you’re out, and that by the time he’s done, you’ll probably be asleep- so you stifle a yawn and pad over to Price.

Once at Price’s side of the bed, you lean over to press a kiss to his forehead- a hand held over your chest to keep your towel from falling down when you do so. “Goodnight.” You mumble, stumbling a bit when you get a head rush as you try to stand back up.

When you start to sway, Price frowns and reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your upper hip. “You alright’, Love?” He asks, forehead knitted in worry.

You nod, ducking your head a bit and pressing a hand against your temple as you wait for the momentary dizziness to pass. “I’m fine, just stood up too fast.” You murmur, silent for a moment as you take a deep breath and start to straighten up.

From where you stand, you can see that Price’s phone is, in fact, open to his email inbox- and you can’t help the frown that accompanies the pang of dejection that shoots through your chest.

“You sure?” Price asks, his concern seemingly only growing as he speaks. “You look a bit off-color.”

You nod your head “yes”, trying your best to simply put Price’s worries to rest. You do know that you should talk to him, that you should take this opportunity to tell him how you feel, that you should stop this spiral you're in. But… you’re tired. Tired physically, tired mentally, tired emotionally- You’re just fucking tired, and everything feels like it’s all going shit.

The hand on your hip moves upwards, and a strong arm wraps around your waist and gently tugs you down. You land with a bit of a bounce onto Price’s lap- his arm around your waist bracing you and keeping you upright as his other one comes up to press the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Bloody hell, you’re burning up.” Price says, the worry lines on his forehead deepening as he quickly drops his phone. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” He asks again, clearly not believing your early assertion of “fine”.

“‘Not sick, just took a hot shower.” You mumble, leaning into his hand where it still rests on your forehead- letting out a deep breath at the touch and letting your heavy eyes drift shut.

Price is clearly unconvinced- looking just as worried as before as he moves one hand to your upper back and the other to the nape of your neck- pulling you close and lifting your hair out of his way so he can check once again for a temperature.

The hand against your forehead must've broken something in you, because from that moment on you feel like a damn had burst. Like all the effort you’d been putting into hiding how bad you’ve needed this is violently swept away and forgotten. Even when you loop your arms around his neck and pull yourself against him, you’re not close enough. No matter how much of you is touching him, you need more. No matter how much you press your face into his chest or the crook of his neck, you can still see the lights from the bedside lamp, smell the soap you used in the shower, and hear the neighbor's dog barking at god knows what. And that’s wrong- because all you want in this moment is Price. You want to be held impossibly close to him, you want your everything to be only him, just for a moment.

You don’t hear what he says, but you feel him take you by the shoulders and gently to get you to look up at him.

In response, you only whine and squeeze him tighter, pressing your face deeper into his neck and shaking your head no.

He gets the hint- a deep sigh leaving his body as you feel him relaxing beneath you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you feel two large, warm, calloused hands slip under your thighs and lift- moving you so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Comfortable, Love?” He asks- to which you nod, goosebumps rising along your body as the air from the fan, even on its lowest setting, feels frigid against your still slightly damp skin- your towel from a moment ago having fallen as Price moved you. A hand runs along your arm, warming the skin slightly as you feel Price shift underneath you in preparation to stand up.

“Do you want me to get you some clothes?” He asks- to which you, again, shake your head in response. This time, side to side as a “no”.

Price chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh traveling between you as he sets a hand on his nightstand, using it to support himself as lifts you two and yanks the covers out from where he had been sitting on them- settling back down and pulling them up to cover the two of you.

The comforter on you two’s bed is big and fluffy- perfect at trapping body heat and warming you up quickly. It’s probably your favorite blanket in the whole house, and you’ve been known to drag it out of the bed and curl up with it on the couch whenever you’re sick or it’s cold enough outside that the heater can’t keep up. Being wrapped in it is enough for you to- gradually- begin to loosen your hold on Price. Eventually, you’re not so much clinging to him as much as you’re simply draped over him.

But even when you release your death grip, Price doesn't try to get you up. He lets you stay, keeping you pressed close against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. He keeps one hand under the blanket, resting on your lower back- occasionally stroking at the soft skin with the pad of his thumb or idly tracing the dips and rises of your body as you drifted in and out of sleep. In his other hand, he held his phone. Likely going through emails or doing something or other work related.

You drifted between varying levels of sleep and awakeness as he held you. Whenever your head would start to slip from where he’d propped it up against his shoulder, he’d pause from his work to gently set it back and make sure you were doing okay. He’d often press sweet, loving kisses to the top of your head, cheek, or temple, or give gentle, protective squeezes to your waist whenever he felt you stir awake, and he’d speak soothingly and stroke your hair whenever you started mumbling half-asleep words to yourself or him.

At one point, you started drifting deeper and deeper to sleep- waking up less and having fewer moments of half-awake confusion after being moved or repositioned- only to later wake up flat on your back - now dressed in some pajamas- and with Price slowly pulling away from you.

You jerk awake, gasping for breath as you immediately latch onto the part of Price that’s closest to you- which turns out to be an arm. You immediately find him back at your side, tears running down your face as you beg for him to stay.

You have his right arm in a white-knuckled grip, and his other one is behind your back, holding you up as he looks down at you- the most worried you’ve ever seen him.

“Shh, you’re okay- I’m right here.” Price says, his look of concern only worsening as you let go of his arm in favor of clinging to his torso.

“D-Don’t go!” You sob, the burst of adrenaline from waking up and thinking he was leaving flushing through your body and leaving you shaky and with a pounding heart.

“I’m not going to leave, Love.” he reassures you, one of his hands petting your head, his beard scratching at your cheek as he holds you close in an attempt to comfort you. “But you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

You don’t respond, hiding your face against him.

He pulls away, cupping your cheek gently and making you look at him. “Sweetheart, I’m worried. You wouldn’t talk at all once you got in my lap, and you freaked out when I tried to set you down. I need you to talk to me.”

You pull your face away, going back to hiding against his chest… but eventually nod.

Price is silent for a moment- thinking before he speaks again

“Did someone hurt you?”

A quick shake of your head “no” and a heavy sigh of relief from Price.

“Is it something that happened at work?”

Another shake of your head “no”.

“Is it something that I did?”

You hesitate…

Your lack of answer tells Price enough, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head. Had you moved your face from where you were hiding it, you would have seen not only the look of absolute love he was looking down at you with, but the thinly veiled guilt he held as he watched the way you clung to him.

“I figured, love.”

You hiccup, choking on your own tears as you do and starting to cough. Price rubs soothing circles into your back as you try to catch your breath.

“I know, I know. This training thing is hard, and I should've done better at making sure my girl was okay. I’m sorry, love.”

“Y-you don’t have anything to be sorry f-”

Price cuts you off with a stern look.

“None of that, now. I should’ve made more of an effort to be there for you.” He pauses, kissing you sweetly before continuing. “I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry I let you forget that and that I let things get to this point, okay?”

“I love you too- “ You say softly, sniffling and trying to wipe away some of your tears- only for Price to come in with a tissue and gently start to blot at your red and blotchy face.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you about it…” You mumble, your face heating up as you try to take the tissue from Price to dry your own face, but failing to do anything more than get him to laugh a bit and start teasing you by keeping the tissue away.

“Tomorrow is the last day of the training, I’m going to take the day after off, and we’re going to do something, okay?” He says, laughing softly before letting you have the tissue and kissing you on the cheek.

Price’s hand finds yours, and he laces you two’s fingers together before pulling your still interlocked hands up and pressing a kiss to the back of yours.

“And I’m not just sorry about this week, I’m sorry about recently in general. I’m going to be better about making sure I make time and showing you how much I care for you, okay?”

You nod, giving one final wipe to your face before you started squirming in his hold in an attempt to sit up a bit more.

“I’m going to be better too- I’m not going to bottle things up… and I’m going to try harder to tell you when I’m feeling like something’s wrong instead of letting it get like this…”

Pride tugs Price’s smile wider, and he brushes a strand of hair out of your face- tucking it behind your ear before pressing yet another kiss to your face.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’m glad.”

You smile, feeling like a weight has been lifted after your cry and conversation with Price. You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tight as you possibly can in an attempt to convey how thankful you are. Of his patience, of his kindness, of him.

“I love you,” You say into his chest as you squeeze him

He lets out a soft “oof” at your squeeze, huffing in amusement before wrapping his own arms around you and giving you a (far from full strength) squeeze of his own.

“I love you too.”

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okthatsgreat · 5 months

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im a big "not your seed" fan in general but i think one line always strikes me straight in the fucking gut and that's the "did you know that i wanted to live with you?" line. so goddamn good. because it's framed as a genuine question: did you know that? did you know, once upon a time, i had wanted to keep that connection with you? the same connection you had been trying so damn hard to find again this entire story?

it's just so so heartbreaking when put into context of alice and bill's story. because at one point alice DID want to be with her dad, she wanted to be his daughter and spend time with him, but bill just wasn't brave enough to really fight for custody of her ("when you needed to fight you gave her that too"). alice saw this and interpreted it as a betrayal against her, as if he didn't care enough to truly fight for her. which ultimately led to an irreparable amount of trust being broken on her end ("why does it hurt to love you?"), a distrust that could possibly even be seeping into her other relationships ("why does it hurt to love?"/ her paranoia over deb and ziggy during watcher world).

tldr alice and bill have one of my favorite FAVORITE relationships in the entire show because even though they are never both TRULY on stage at the same time (considering the real alice was gone when he arrived at the school) there was still so much depth and realism behind the two characters that god. GODDDDDD

#i just think their story is so heartbreaking #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #bill woodward #alice woodward #starkid #hatchetfield #lee chat

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imtryingbuck · 7 months

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Affair

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Affair

Summary: Y/n founds out about her husband’s affair.

Word count: 1207

Warnings: Angst, Bucky is not good in this im sorry. Sad yet strong reader. Infidelity. Sharon and Steve. Little teeny tiny bit of body hate. Swear words.

A/n: there’s a line from my favourite song of Adeles.

Masterlist

Part 2

The day she found out her husband was having an affair it felt like time had stopped. Thousands of questions sworn inside her head, she didn’t blame her husband or the other woman nope she blamed herself. It was her fault her husband was unfaithful, it was her fault she had not been enough for him, it was her fault for not satisfying his needs. It was her fault.

After the self-blaming and self-hating she moved on to anger. Angry at her husband betraying her, angry at the other woman - a woman she had called a friend for 15 years - angry at herself, just unadulterated anger.

Then came the self-pity party, where all she did was cry and cry and cry. She would stand in front of the full body mirror just in her underwear, picking at every single detail on her skin hating what she saw in the reflection. Then she would cry even more due to the fact that after finally loving and being kind to her own body, she was back to hating it. However, she didn’t just feel sorry for herself, no, no she felt sorry for her husband, her children, her husband’s mistress and the husband of her husband’s mistress.

Oh and then there was denial - but that went straight out of her head pretty quickly, after all she did catch them going at it with her own two eyes.

And finally came acceptance. She accepted her husband’s extra marital affair, she accepted that she had been betrayed by two people close to her. Completely aware that her marriage was over and dead.

Her heart remained broken though, that would never change.

~~~

The sound of the door opening use to bring a smile on Y/ns face, sending her straight to the door awaiting him like a goddamn lapdog. Now though all it did was make her wonder which excuse she was going to be given.

Sitting on the sofa with her knees pulled up staring at the tv screen, chuckling quietly to herself as Peter Griffin continues his antics, wondering to herself why Lois puts up with him. Already smelling the mistress’s perfume on him makes her roll her eyes.

“Hey bab-“

“I filed for divorce.”

He actually has the audacity to act shocked “w-what do you mean? Bab-“

“Stop. Just stop. I know about your affair, I know you’ve been sleeping with Sharon for the past six months, probably longer I don’t know” mumbling the last part quietly “but all that matters is that I know so now we’re getting divorced.”

She sees him in her peripheral nervously shifting foot to foot, colour completely drained from his face, is that tears? Gross. Before he can even get a good enough excuse for his betrayal straight, she continues.

“Don’t say anything it’s not going to change my mind or decision. I spoke with my lawyer who thinks I’m being to kind - his words not mine - anyway I told him in don’t want money or the house from you. Custody will be split between us evenly” standing up wrapping her arms around herself “you know at first I wanted so many answers but now I just want to know one thing, do you think you can be honest for once? Do you actually think Sharon is going to want you know that I’m leaving you? Think you both can run off into the sunset and live happily ever after?” Using a baby like voice at the end she chuckles at his expression, she can’t tell if it’s heartbreak that she’s leaving him or heartbreak that his mistress isn’t going to want him anymore - laughable.

“The answer is no by the way. I feel bad though, you both deserve each other. Both so wrapped up in your own selflessness that you were happy to ruin two marriages, two families! To betray, lie and deceive your spouses who happen to be friends! All for what? Sex?” Stepping back when he tries to reach out “don’t fucking touch me! Don’t you dare try and touch me AFTER you’ve been with her! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? And don’t you dare stand there and cry! You did this, you both did. Oh and Steve knows” Literally as she said that his phone started ringing “Go ahead and answer it’s probably your best friend or your mistress, go ahead James and answer” at the sound of his first name he flinched, he pulled his phone out and sighed, declining the call he looked back at the woman who he had the privilege of calling his wife. The mother of his children, the woman who he has loved from the moment he was introduced to her. The woman who he cheated on.

“I’m sorry” is all he could say, he really didn’t remember how the affair started or why on earth he continued it, he has this perfect wife at home, his other half his soulmate and he cheated, he couldn’t even give her a good enough excuse. His guilt was hitting like a ton of bricks, he betrayed his wife and his best friend all for a quick fuck that wasn’t even good.

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that when the morning comes, you’re going to have no one. I feel for you James honestly - stop swaying you’re making me feel seasick, sit down.” Watching him sit on the chair she moves to sit where she was originally sat before.

“Listen I just want to get this off my chest before I go to bed okay, I have loved you so deeply that I honestly don’t think I’d ever stop loving you but James I can’t forgive you, maybe one day in the future I will but not right now. I have been stood by your side through every single thing that has happened to you, and yet you betray me. I don’t know what went wrong with us but whatever I did I’m sorry-“ when he tries to intervene she puts her hand up “Just listen! I’m sorry that our story has ended this way but i can’t trust you anymore or even stand the sight of you if I’m being honest. You have given me something that I can't live without, you mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt. But this is where our story ends.”

Wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jumper, she stands up stronger and taller than ever before.

“You can sleep on the sofa or head to Sharon’s I know Steve said he’d be staying with Sam and Nat. Tomorrow I’ll be taking the kids to our new house and then I guess we’ll go from there” Shrugging her shoulders as she doesn’t know what else to say to him. “Goodnight James, I truly hope you all the best”

Once in the comfort of her bedroom she listens to hear his movements but all she can hear are his cries. Smiling sadly, she climbs into the bed, she fears the unknowing of what her future holds whilst also excited for it.

For the first time since she found out about her husband’s affair she sleeps peacefully.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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poeticpascal · 9 months

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Trouble (Pedro Pascal x Rockstar!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Pedro had never heard of (Y/N) (L/N) before his latest appearance on The Graham Norton Show. By the end, his assistant wishes it had stayed that way, and he wonders how it took him so long to find her.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse (now recovered), allusions to but no specific mention of an overdose.

A/n: I am very nervous to post this! I've never written a fic about an actor like this before, so depending on how this one does lol, you may be able to expect more from me like this. Please let me know what you think, and don't forget my requests are open!

“And he used red this time! We were getting so worried that he wasn’t interested in all 3 primary colours-”

Pedro sighs, glancing towards the door to see if his assistant was coming back yet. No sign.

He turns back to the old lady who’s been talking now for what - 4 hours? 5? It felt like it. She was sweet, and he didn’t want to be rude, but god if he had to spend one more minute hearing about her grandson’s latest finger painting-

“So sorry I took so long! We’ll have to get going Pedro - your next interview is in 10.”

His assistant - Alicia - burst back into the room and Pedro was sure he could feel his eyes well in relief. He takes the lady’s hand, shaking it and giving her a warm smile. “Mrs Alderman, I’d love to hear all about Harvey, but I’ve gotta go. It was lovely to meet you!”

She smiles in understanding and clasps her own hand on top of his. “It was lovely to meet you too, Peter!”

Alicia snorts behind him, and Pedro gives up with a final, defeated smile before heading out of the cafe and back towards his car. He’d only wanted to nip in for a second, to grab coffee and a pastry, but then Alicia got a phone call, and Mrs Alderman started talking to him in the queue, and by the time they left his goddamn coffee had gone cold.

They clamber inside, Alicia pushing a few files onto the backseat as Pedro stares. “I almost died, you know,” he quips, half muffled as he takes a bite of his croissant. He hums at the taste, light and buttery; maybe it had been worth it.

Alicia rolls her eyes, used to his antics by now. “I was on the phone to the BBC. They’ve confirmed who you’ll be on The Graham Norton Show with.”

“They have? Who?”

He generally felt nervous going on the big chat shows, especially with how in demand he'd been recently. But Graham had been so warm, especially for his first time on the show, that when they asked him to come back he'd accepted without hesitation.

And really, he was quite looking forward to it.

Alicia doesn't seem quite as excited though. She flips open her notepad, littered with delicate but hasty scribbles of various projects and dates, and begins to read out the names.

“Robert Downey Jr, he’s promoting Oppenheimer.”

“I'm gonna meet Iron Man?” Now he was nervous.

“Kate McKinnon. She's in the Barbie movie, I think.”

“Amazing.” He'd always wanted to meet her.

“And…” she sighs. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Who?” No seriously, who?

Alicia snaps her head up to look at him. Surely he didn’t not know who she was? “(Y/N) (L/N)? The singer?”

Pedro just shakes his head, unbothered. “Nah, never heard of her. She any good?”

“No, Pedro, that’s the point.” He cocks an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue as she looks back and forth between him and her notes. “She’s a publicist’s worst nightmare. She’s the lead singer of this band, The Heartbreakers, they’re huge. Like, Taylor Swift-huge. But if Taylor Swift did heavy metal.”

“And why don't we like her?” he asks.

“Because she’s trouble. She’s had big drug problems, she argues with everyone, she goes on stage and pulls all these crazy stunts. She’s always in the news, Pedro.”

He can’t help but think she sounds like fun.

“Can’t be that bad, right? If she’s that famous?”

Alicia shakes her head, “she's famous, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. People love you right now, Pedro. I’m just concerned that if you’re seen to be… friendly with her, people will raise their eyebrows. It won’t look good.

He thinks for a second. It really wasn’t in his nature, this whole PR thing. He liked meeting new people, and listening to them, and connecting. Maybe not Mrs Alderman - and now he's thinking about that nightmare again - but, for the most part, yes; Pedro liked people.

And not giving someone a chance because of his public image didn’t feel right.

Alicia sees the cogs turning in his brain, so she flips the pad closed, giving him her full attention now. “I know it’s strange, but I mean it. It’s not a hole you want to get dragged into. Her fandom is huge, the media's obsessed with her, parents hate that their kids listen to her and kids love to piss off their parents by listening to her. I’m going to speak to them about getting you sat on the opposite end of the couch... I just want to make sure you’re not linked with her. Trust me.”

With that, he nods his head. He does trust her - at the end of the day, he didn’t even know who this (Y/N) person was. So what if he didn’t speak to her much on the show?

—------

“WHAT?!”

He had to pull the phone away as Bella’s near-screech pierced his ears. They yell again, something along the lines of “are you serious? Pedro, are you serious?!”

“Yes I’m serious, what’s the big-”

“Oh my god I can’t believe it! You’re going to meet (Y/N) (L/N)! Will you mention her to me? I saw her tweet once that she watched the show and oh my god I need her to follow me on Instagram-”

“Wait, Bella, wait,” Pedro rubs his thumb and forefinger between his brows, not exactly thrilled that what was supposed to be a call to calm his nerves the night before the show was now filled with so much rowdiness. “I don’t even know who she is! You listen to her?”

They gasp, and he just knew they were pulling a dramatic, jaw-dropped face on the other end of the line. “Come on man, I know you’re not the hippest guy around but you have to know who she is!”

He giggles, throwing his hands in the air. “‘Fraid not, Bella. I’ve no clue. I do know i’m not supposed to talk to her though.”

Now there was a real gasp, not the purposefully dramatic kind. “What? Pedro, you can’t not talk to her. You have to. She’s the coolest person, like, ever.”

Pedro scoffs, “what about me?”

“When you get sleeve tattoos and banned from performing at the VMAs, you might get considered dude.”

“She was banned from the VMAs?”

You know that feeling, when someone tells you not to do something, and you don’t want to do anything else?

Yeah, that.

“I’ll send you the link, it was so cool. She said she’ll be allowed back next year anyway 'cos they need her to stay relevant.” He giggles again at that, and yeah, he couldn’t deny his intrigue.

“So that’s why you like her? She's all rebellious and stuff?” Pedro chews on his thumb as he asks, the anxiety of tomorrow not quite forgotten, but listening intently as Bella rants on.

“Nah, I mean she is controversial, but I just think she’s amazing. She acts all tough and rock 'n' roll, but she's really great deep down. I went to see her band once a couple of years ago, and this girl fainted so she stopped the whole show to make sure she got water and was okay. She’s just misunderstood, man.”

“Is it true she’s a drug addict?” He's not sure why he felt the need to ask. Why he cared. Maybe it was just to build a better picture, or maybe because Bella loves her so much, and he cares about their interests. Maybe, he had a sort of… concern, for her. For this enigma.

They knew each other well, and Bella could sense Pedro’s interest. More than anything, they were just excited to tell him about their favourite singer. “She used to be, it was crazy. She’d go on stage high and everything, people really hated her then. But she’s been sober now for, like, a year? She talks about it a lot. This is what I mean dude - everyone remembers all those shitty things but I think she’s so strong.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to Alicia’s warning a few days earlier.

“Do you think it’d be bad? If I talked to her?”

It was Bella taking a moment’s pause, now. “I mean… Alicia’s not wrong. She’s not exactly got the cleanest image a celebrity’s ever had. I guess it’s up to you to decide what matters most.”

It was quite profound really, and Pedro was reminded of just how mature they were for their age.

“The most important thing is that you give her my instagram handle.”

And just like that, the moment��s gone. He laughs, shaking his head and muttering “you’re a dick”, before falling into conversation about other things. He fully intended to look up (Y/N) (L/N) before he fell asleep, but the hours went by quick and soon enough he'd drifted off, phone in hand and tomorrow's nerves dispelled for now.

—------

Maybe this whole Graham Norton thing was a bad idea.

Pedro was tired.

It had been a long flight to London, a long drive from the airport to his hotel. And a long, long wait at the studio before they even thought about getting filming started.

He’d been in hair and makeup for a good while, and according to Alicia, it would still be another two hour’s wait until they got him sat on the big red couch.

Yeah, he was tired.

He steps out, the muddied skies of London painting a grey-cast shadow on his face, the frosty winds hitting his skin. It was nice. Different. Much harsher than the LA sun he was used to.

He looks around; it’s just him there in the car park, leant against the windowsill and letting his eyes drift shut. It’s peaceful, and if it weren’t for the rushing of the motorway that ran just beside him, he’d almost feel alone.

“Mind if I join?”

He jolts awake, startled out of his near-tranquility, facing the woman who’d crept outside through the same doors he did. She was casually dressed, far more so than the BBC staff he’d seen today; she must be a temp, or an intern or something. A heavy black hoodie swallows her frame, and he wished he had a similar one as his ice-cold breath fell into the air. His eyes draw upwards, and he thinks to himself just how pretty she is. (Y/H/C) hair is bundled in her hood, loose strands blowing messily in the wind. She has no makeup on, so he can see greyish bags hung under her eyes, her lips stained pink, a soft blush blooming over her cheeks from the frosty air. There’s a roughness to her, something harsh, and it makes her so utterly alluring.

“Yeah- yes, of course. Of course.” He offers a smile, and she smiles back, and his heart races.

He shuffles to the left, unsure of why he’s making room for her on the windowsill; they’re outside, he’s a stranger. There’s a bench not far from the door, perfectly fit for her to sit on. And yet she follows his movements, and leans against the porcelain outline of the large window, searching for something in her pockets.

“D'you smoke?” She produces a pack of cigarettes, and digs out a lighter from her back jean pocket. Pedro watches as she slips one of them between her lips, covering the end with delicate hands as she lights it, revelling in the taste and taking a long drag. He notices then her long black nails, perfectly painted and delicately holding the cigarette in place, elegant and weapon-like at the same time.

There’s a nonchalance to everything she does, and it’s enticing. She doesn’t look at him when she asks, or when she expels the smoke from her lungs, keeping her eyes set forward and undoubtedly feeling the weight of Pedro’s on her face.

He forgets he’s supposed to answer.

“Er, no, thank you. I’m being good.” He offers her a smile, forced as he tries to remember his own whereabouts, too entranced by the beauty and the charisma that fell from this woman in droves.

The two are silent for a little while, he can’t be too sure how long. He smells the smoke from beside him, sees the wisps drawl from her tongue and into the cool air, and for someone who considered himself rather charming, he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say.

He doesn’t have to.

“What're you doing out here, then?”

And this time she is looking at him. They’re sat close, and his eyes meet hers with ease, warm and welcoming. He feels a little more comfortable now, like she’s a friend; her warmness makes it hard to feel anything other than at peace.

He smiles, bashful. “I’m working.”

“Working?”

He looks down at his shoes, rubbing them against one another. It was always a strange conversation to have, explaining who he was to people who didn’t know. It felt like showing off a little; more than anything, he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

“Yeah, I, uh… on the show.”

She giggles, and it sounds so sweet that his tummy heats up. “I’m only kidding. I know who you are. The Last Of Us, right?”

There’s a sincerity to her tone, nothing like this thick, false charm people try to use when they know he’s famous. It didn’t feel like she wanted anything from him in that moment. He nods, looking back up at her and his breath hitches when they immediately lock eyes again. Her lips are turned into a sly smile, cheeky almost, and he can’t help but grin back.

“I liked that show,” she says before taking another long drag.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Makes this fuckin’ huge press tour worth it.”

She laughs. Not the quiet giggle she gave him before, but a proper laugh, one that makes her eyes brighter and her nose scrunch up. Pedro laughs too, caught up in her, and when their chuckles die down they relax into a comfortable silence for a few moments before he turns to her again and asks, “how about you? Are you on the production team?”

She ponders her answer. It’s the first time - in the 10 minutes since they’d met - that she’d seemed to falter. Like she was unsure. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He didn’t push it. Maybe his fame was a problem. Did she feel overwhelmed? Or judged? He didn’t know - but a twang of sadness settled in his gut, and he wondered what to say next.

She recovers quickly, though. Stands back up a little straighter, puts the butt of her cigarette out against the wall, and faces him once again. “You seem nervous."

Pedro chuckles, nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only when you scuff your shoes within an inch of their life and readjust your glasses every 10 seconds.”

“And here I thought I hid it well.” Cocking an eyebrow, the woman looks at him knowingly and tilts her head, encouraging him to go on.

“I always get nervous before these things... it feels worse this time, though. I just know Robert Downey Jr is gonna think I’m so weird, and then there’s this other lady I gotta avoid-”

“Who?”

She was abrupt, quickly apologising for interrupting him. He didn’t mind. “She’s like this... musician? I think. I’m sure you’ll know who she is. I’m awful at keeping up with whatever the kids are doing now. (Y/N)- (Y/N) something.”

There was a pause, awkwardly long. “My assistant says I gotta stay away from her” her continues, feeling a need to fill the gap. “Just doesn’t feel right to me, you know? To judge someone like that before you’ve even met them?”

He watches as she nods her head, deep in thought. She meets his eyes and nods again, faster, showing to him now that she agrees. She understands. He’s not quite sure how she understands, but he believes her; she didn’t strike him as the dishonest sort.

Pedro’s phone vibrates in his pocket, startling them both and they share another soft laugh. He grabs it, seeing Alicia's text flash on the screen - You’ve got a meeting with the producers to go over filming. 10 minutes. Ah shit.

“Everything okay?” There’s concern in her voice, and Pedro wonders if she knows he has to go. If she’s just as disappointed as he is.

“Yeah, yeah. I just - I gotta go.”

She’s definitely disappointed. He knows because her bright eyes fall the same way his did.

He’d never quite felt like this; like a magnet was drawing him to someone and like it would hurt in his soul to let her go. It occurred to him then, he didn’t even know her name, and he’d be damned if he was going to crawl back into the world of PR and publicity stunts and rehearsed answers without finding it out.

“It was nice to meet you. I don’t know if you- you want to get a coffee? Or something? After filming?”

The same harsh edge she had when they met, the one that had slipped and softened as they talked, seemed to have crept back as a once-sweet smile became that sly, cautious smirk. He couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking, what the cogs that so clearly turned in her mind were churning up, but he knew he didn’t care as long as he got to see her again.

“I’d like that.” Pedro sighs in relief, smiling again and sticking out an ice-bitten hand. “I’m Pedro.”

She giggles, offering her own hand and he stalled at the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his own. “I know.” She retorts, and he laughs, and just when she opens her mouth to tell him her own name-

“Pedro! We gotta go!”

Alicia shoves the door open, not even looking up from her phone which was presumably inundated with countless emails and phone calls, and Pedro sighs before looking desperately into the still nameless women’s eyes. She just smiles, dropping his hand and digging hers into her pockets. “Go on. I'll catch you later.”

He nods, swallowing and offering a small, regretful smile before pushing himself off the wall and following Alicia back inside. She huffs at him, speeding back off down the corridor and muttering something along the lines of “these goddamn producers”. He looks back a final time, to where the woman still sits in the windowsill. She waves, and he grins, unable to hide the childlike excitement her little gesture gave him before waving back and letting the door shut behind him.

—------

“We’ve got a fantastic show for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get some guests on!”

Pedro hears the roar of the audience, only a single wall between them and him as he waits to hear his name. He looks around the room; Robert and Kate are stood with him, chatting away at something he’d stopped listening to a little while ago. He felt better now he’d met them - they were lovely, so down to earth and genuinely happy to chat to him and hear what he had to say. It made him less nervous, and you might even say he was looking forward to this now.

There was no sign of her though. The singer - (Y/N). Alicia had scoffed, “typical,” just 10 minutes earlier, when there had been no sign. And she still wasn’t here.

“We’ve got the newly Emmy-nominated actor, best known for his amazing roles in The Mandalorian and HBO’s The Last Of us,” the audience’s roars got louder, “Mr. Pedro Pascal!”

It’s time.

He pulls his suit jacket a little tighter around himself, laying his palm flat against the bottom of his chest. With the other hand, he waves, smiling brightly at the crowd who cheered him on. Graham greets him, pulling him in for a hug and welcoming him back, before pointing him towards the end of the couch. Pedro gives the audience a final wave, mouthing ‘thank you’s and trying to express his gratitude for the love that filled the room.

Kate and Robert came next, shaking his hand and ‘introducing’ themselves again, despite the fact he’d already met them an hour earlier. A producer runs up to Graham, whispering something in his ear before darting off in the other direction. Graham rolls his eyes playfully, turning towards the audience and announcing, “we’ve got a late one!” The audience laugh, and Graham just organises his cue cards as producers usedthe extra time to prepare the camera angles and get the lighting right.

Graham looks at the couch, smiling with a wink. “Don’t worry - she’ll be here in a minute.”

“Is this (Y/N) again?” Robert asks, grinning.

“You’ve met her?” Pedro jumps in, falling into small talk among the four of them.

“A couple of times now yeah,” Robert replies. “I think she’s great, really funny. She's just… not the most put together person.”

They laugh, and Kate recounts her own story of having to wait on some celebrity or another, entertaining the crowd.

Graham parts from the conversation after around 10 minutes, holding a finger to his ear piece and nodding at whatever he was being told from the other end of the line. He stands up, smiling wide and turning to the audience, “she’s here! We have our rockstar ready.”

Cheers immediately erupt, and Graham turns to the guests to check they’re all ready to carry on with the show. Pedro nods, anticipation building as he spots Alicia from the corner of his eye, keeping watch.

“And don’t worry everyone, we’ll cut that little intermission out!” The room laughs. “Now I’m very glad introduce our last, but certainly not least, guest of the night. She’s the lead singer of Grammy-nominated band The Heartbreakers, she’s one of the most famous women in the world right now, and she’s only a tad terrifying. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome - (Y/N) (L/N)!

The audience becomes the loudest they’ve been all night, standing and yelling as the final guest takes the stage, and -

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s her. The woman from outside, the one he’d been thinking about all afternoon. The one whose name he never learned.

She looks different; she looks like the woman he’d been warned about. She looks dangerous. Where a black hoodie had hung from her shoulders, a black lace dress now clung to her figure and he could see the tattoos that littered her sleeveless arms. The bags under her eyes were gone, as was the pink on her cheeks; her skin was painted, perfected, sculpted with darker shades and glowing radiantly. Her lips were black and glossy, so neatly done that she almost looked like a doll. Thick eyeliner carried a smoky shadow across her eyelid and beyond, drowning the same (Y/E/C) eyes he’d memorised in black.

She was ethereal.

And she was his one, single instruction for the night. Don’t get involved in her.

She waves at the audience, smirking in the same sly way she’d done to him earlier; he saw more clearly that they were the same now. She has the same charm, same charisma, same allure and yet she seems all the more potent now as she strides across the stage in 6 inch heels and pulls Graham into a tight hug, like old friends. She whispers something in his ear, and he throws his head back with a laugh before she saunters to the couch, where the three guests stand up to greet her. She and Kate introduce one another with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile, before she gives Robert another tight hug and they share a word that Pedro can hear now. “I have to stay here an extra 10 minutes ‘cos of you” Robert quips, causing (Y/N) to pull back and look at him with a cocked brow.

“You know I’m worth it, Downey.”

With that, she turns to face Pedro, and his breath hitches the same way it did when they’d first met. Her grin falters slightly, and there it is again; that honesty. She almost seemed like she was putting on a show, with her slow saunter and cheeky remarks, but there was nothing false about the way she wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes.

“My name’s (Y/N).”

He just laughs. He can’t help it. She makes him feel giddy. “I know.”

The audience’s applause dies down, and (Y/N) takes her spot as the star guest, and the first on the couch closest the Graham. He talks between them and the crowd, commenting on what a great line up they had today, despite certain delays, which has the audience howling again. (Y/N) laughs with them, shaking her head and pretending to cover her face with her hand, before looking up at Graham and saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I got held up!”

“Well you have to tell us what happened,” Graham retorts, and they banter as (Y/N) recounts getting stuck in the backstage toilets. She has everyone wrapped around her finger, listening to everything she says and laughing at her jokes, and Pedro can’t find himself believing the warnings Alicia had given him.

He remembers Bella, and how much praise they had for her, and he gets it. He sees what they see.

“Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters. We actually haven’t seen you for a while!”

(Y/N) nods, her demeanour becoming slightly more serious. “No, it’s been a strange few months.”

Graham continues, “the last time you were on the show was 2021. And obviously as most of us here know, you've had quite a difficult time since then, right? Tell me how you’ve been.”

She takes a sharp breath, and Pedro could’ve sworn she glanced up at him before she answers. “Well, yeah. I’m sure it’s no surprise to anyone that I was struggling with addiction for… most of my career, really.”

“‘No surprise’?” - Graham interjects - “you used to get high on stage!” It seemed judgemental, but it quickly became clear that he and (Y/N) had that sort of friendship, the kind where you can talk to one another so blatantly. She purses her lips at him, and he giggles, which makes her break the feigned offence and giggle too.

“Look, man, that’s rock and roll.” The room laughs again. “No but seriously, yeah, it just got worse and worse until… well, you know what happened. it was hard. But I’ve gotten clean, I haven’t touched that shit in what, 8 months?” The crowd launch into cheers and applause, echoed by Graham and the other guests. Pedro could see how much it meant to her, how she tried to keep a stoic appearance despite the tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. She mouths a thank you, and he longs to skip right past Robert and Kate to be by her side, to hold her. She recovers quickly, something Pedro notes she seems to do a lot; cover her moments of weakness as soon as they start. Instead she sits up straighter and jokes, “I think everyone’s worried I’m gonna be boring now, without the drugs.”

Graham laughs, “I mean, you are known for being one of the more controversial artists out there.”

“If anything, I think being high slowed me down. I’m just gonna get worse, now.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Graham jokes, “you’re going on tour again soon, I’m not sure we can handle it.”

The audience cheer even louder at the mention of the tour, making (Y/N)’s smile grow wider. “Yep, new album, new tour. It’s all happening.”

Graham turns to Pedro suddenly, as if remembering he had three other guests to rope into the conversation. “Do you listen to this sort of music, Pedro? The Heartbreakers?”

And, shit. Pedro can feel Alicia’s eyes burning into him from off-stage, and he recalls her warnings about this very situation.

Don’t make friends with her

Don’t give the media something to talk about

Don’t ruin your reputation

And yet, her voice got quieter and quieter in his head, as the sound of (Y/N)’s laugh and the pierce of her eyes became all he could think about. The decision was pretty easy to make, really.

“I actually hadn’t heard of them, until today.” Graham chuckles at his reply. “But I think I’ll have to start listening.”

The crowd cheer, and the pair lock eyes for what could’ve only been a few seconds, but felt like so much longer. She tries to fight the way the corners of her mouth pull upwards, white teeth poking through painted black lips, but when she sees him smiling back at her she lets them go and drowns in the butterflies she’s so unused to feeling.

God, he was in so much trouble.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x yn #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #poeticbarnes writes #my stuff #my writing #pedro pascal oneshot #pedro pascal fluff

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Billy Hargrove is into you, and you assume that you don't deserve better than that narcissistic douchebag. When heartbreak inevitably happens, Eddie Munson is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (f! receiving), protected p in v, Billy is a POS, reader is insecure about her body (no descriptions given, though she mentions not liking her stomach)

**Billy is very manipulative to get reader to sleep with him, though she does consent**

WC: 5.7k

A/N: This is based on two real experiences I had when I was younger. It's incredibly self-indulgent, but has also been wonderful for my healing process. I hope it can help someone else, too. (Also, sorry if it's rambly; it was cathartic but also emotionally difficult to write).

As the last swimmer exits through the iron gates, you breathe a sigh of relief at the end of another shift. Lifeguarding at Hawkins Community Pool wasn’t necessarily a difficult job, but it sure was tedious. Your flip-flops thwap against the pavement as you pad into the locker room to get dressed, skin sticky from sunscreen and that infamous mid-July humidity.

“So,” Heather says, twisting her blonde hair into a ponytail as she changes from her swimsuit into shorts and a t-shirt, “you ready to hear that secret?”

You nod enthusiastically. It’s all you’d been thinking about since you’d climbed down the lifeguard tower when her watch duty began, and she’d whispered that she had something to say to you privately.

Heather’s eyes gleam as she announces, “Billy told me he thinks you’re hot!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Not that he needed to; anyone can watch him check you out all day long,” she adds with a smirk.

“Me?” you ask incredulously, unable to muffle your surprise. On instinct, you wrap your arms around your waist protectively. Heather might be comfortable changing in public, but your own body insecurities made it torturous for you to even be naked privately.

“Yes, you!” your co-worker giggles. “You should talk to him.”

You’re still mulling over the prospect of Billy Hargrove being into you when your ride pulls up to the pool gates. Waving goodbye to Heather, you hop in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. He picks you up every night you work, and the two of you always split a joint in your backyard before he heads back to the trailer park. It makes your crappy summer job all worth it; God knows the pay isn’t even going to cover your textbooks when you go back to college in August.

“Save any little gremlins today?” he jokes, turning down his music so he can hear your answer.

You shake your head and laugh. “Nah, just yelled, ‘no running!’ about 84 times.” Leaning back in the seat and stretching your legs, you glance over at him. “But Heather told me something interesting.” Eddie cocks his eyebrow, and you take that as a sign to continue. “Apparently, Billy Hargrove thinks I’m hot.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Sure, he’s not exactly your knight in shining armor, but he’s an attractive guy who has a thing for you.

“Oh, ew.” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Please describe the look on that douche canoe’s face when you turn him down.”

“Who says I’m turning him down?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest.

Your best friend sighs. “Well, you should,” he says pointedly, never one to mince words. “Guys like Hargrove only want to get in a girl’s pants and then find a new victim.”

“Why are you being such a bummer?” you snap. Eddie just keeps his eyes on the road, oblivious to your glare. “If Jeff was about to get laid, you’d be throwing him a goddamn parade!”

He chuckles tersely. “That’s because Jeff getting laid would be a fuckin’ miracle.”

You look around, exaggerating your movements for emphasis. “Well, asshole, I don’t exactly see a line of people forming to sleep with me, either.” With that, you pull your knees to your chest and turn your body so that your back is to him.

The car is silent, save for the sounds of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning album crackling through the speakers. After what seems like an eternity, Eddie pulls into your driveway and throws the van in park.

“Did…did you still wanna smoke?” he asks quietly, twiddling with a loose thread on the ripped knee of his jeans.

“Nope.” You jump out of the van, slamming the door shut behind you. “And you don’t have to drive me home tomorrow. I bet Billy will do it.”

You hear him calling your name as you stalk into your house. Honestly, you could really use some weed right now, but you’re too infuriated at him to push it all aside for a quick smoke session.

The next day, you make a point to sit next to Billy when you take your break. He’s smoking a cigarette, occasionally flicking ash into a chipped tray on the table.

“Can I bum one?” you ask, pointing to the rolled tobacco between his plush lips.

Billy smirks, reaching for the pack of Marlboros and holding it out to you. “Didn’t peg you for a smoker, sugar.” He passes you his lighter, and you spark up and inhale deeply.

“I usually prefer something greener, but this’ll do.” You take another drag, trying to work up the nerve to say what’s on your mind. As the smoke curls around your mouth, you notice Billy’s eyes trail down the curves of your body, as though he’s trying to drink you in. “Something I can help you with, Hargrove?” you tease, impressed with the way you easily flirt with him. It’s so unlike you, but it feels good.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly. “You can hang with me tonight. Got the place to myself, so, y’know…” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

Your stomach flip-flops despite yourself. This is what you want, right? No more waiting around for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet. It’s not going to happen, never going to happen, not when you look the way you do. And if a gorgeous man like Billy Hargrove is actually willing to have sex with you, you’re in no position to turn him down. “O-Okay,” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness. “I’m working till nine tonight; is that–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts, flashing you a megawatt smile. “I finish at six, but I’ll stick around just for you, pretty thing.”

Pretty. He called you pretty, and he wants you. Wants you enough to hang out at work for an extra three hours just to be with you.

The rest of your shift drags by; all you can think about is Billy. The way he feels, the way he tastes, what he looks like underneath those swim trunks.

The only problem is that he’ll also want to see you naked. The thought sours your mood. You try not to catch glimpses of yourself in the bathroom mirror after you get out of the shower, and now you’re about to let him see you, completely vulnerable.

Stop being such a baby, you scold yourself. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Billy’s waiting outside the locker room once your shift ends. He takes your hand in his larger, stronger one, and leads you to his car.

“Seems kinda silly, getting changed out of that cute little swimsuit,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “when you’re gonna get undressed again so soon.” He leans you up against the passenger door, pinning your hips back and kissing you hungrily. One hand roams under your t-shirt to the swell of your breasts, breaking away when he feels the fabric of your bra. “You tryin’ to hide these from me, sugar?” He starts to reach for the clasp, but you stand up a bit straighter.

“Did you wanna, like, grab something to eat?” you ask shyly. “We can stop by Benny’s on the way to yours if…if you like burgers?” You cringe as the words leave your lips. Could you sound any more pathetic?

Billy just chuckles patronizingly. “That sounds like a date, and, uh, I don’t do dates.” He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “But I do other stuff real well.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t what you want, but you should want it, and so you push down the apprehension and try to focus on the man in front of you. “That’s fine,” you murmur, even though it isn’t. People have casual sex all the time. It doesn’t mean he’s any less attracted to you. Like he said, he’s not the dating type, so why cause problems where none exist?

“I don’t know if I can wait until we get to mine,” he growls, and you can practically taste the spearmint gum that he was chewing earlier. “Might just have to do you in the backseat, hm?”

You nod as he opens the door for you, pretending for a millisecond to be a gentleman. He clambors in behind you and slams it shut, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his waist. You can feel his erection pressed against your clothed sex, and you allow yourself to smile. You did this to him. You got him hard. Not Chrissy Cunningham, or Heather, or Bo Derek. You.

He starts to take off your shirt, but you push his hands away. “Something wrong?” he asks, giving an exasperated sigh. Did you already fuck this up?

“N-No, it’s just…” you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “Could I keep my shirt on? I don’t really like my body, and I’d just feel better if I didn’t, um, take it off.” Heat blazes behind your cheeks, and you will yourself not to cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy grumbles under his breath, flexing his biceps as he stretches. He lets his hands fall to your ass with a soft smack. “You got me all worked up, and now you’re not even gonna let me see your tits?”

You duck your head in shame. “I’m kinda insecure about the way I look,” you admit, hoping it will soften his heart. Though kinda is an understatement.

He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth impatiently. “Y’know,” he finally says, squeezing the plush of your ass, “you might feel better about yourself if you got naked for me.”

You inhale sharply; that’s not at all what you expected him to say. Maybe something reassuring; something about how much he liked the way you look. Instead, he’s clearly irritated with your hesitation.

“M-Maybe.” It’s worth a shot, and you slowly peel off your top and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor of the car. You watch anxiously as his eyes flit across your bare chest, waiting for his reaction. An indication that he just has to have you and only you.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and simply says, “not bad.” He fumbles with your shorts button before unfastening his own. He strokes his cock lazily, staring at you. “Touch yourself, sugar. Get yourself ready f’me.”

There’s something screaming at you that this isn’t right; he should at least attempt to get you off instead of asking you to do the work for him. But you do as you’re told, not wanting to humiliate yourself further.

You shimmy out of your shorts, pushing your panties aside and rubbing slow, timid circles around your clit. You’ve done this plenty of times to know what feels good, yet you can’t seem to get it right when it counts. Billy doesn’t notice—or care—that the moans floating past your lips are fake, and he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Condom?” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes again.

“Doesn’t feel as good,” he grumbles, but he reaches into his wallet and pulls out the square piece of foil and tears it open, sliding the rubber over his thick cock. He pushes into you, not bothering to take his time as he ruts up. “Move your hips for me,” he tells you. “Bounce up and down; damn, do I gotta walk you through everything?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, and you manage to blink them away before he can see. Maybe this’ll get easier with time, you think. Maybe I’m just too nervous. You will yourself to relax, holding onto his broad shoulders as you lean down to kiss him.

“Feels good, yeah?” Billy grunts, and you nod as you zone out. You throw out a few more half-hearted whines as his hips stutter against your pelvis and he spills into the condom. “Fuck, there ya go, take it,” he croons, sweat trickling down his forehead. As soon as he rides out his orgasm, he’s hoisting you off of him so he can clean himself up. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You try to sound enthusiastic. “Could you, um, drive me home?”

“Whatever,” he shrugs, but waits for you to put your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.

He wants to do this again tomorrow, meaning he wasn’t completely repulsed by your body. So everything should be good, right?

The next week and a half is filled with lust-fueled backseat romps, usually ending with Billy coming and you…well, returning home to use your trusty vibrator. You’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable, but not in your own skin. It’s more that there’s a certain power behind Billy choosing you when he could be with literally anyone else. You hold your head a little higher, walk a little taller. Even your parents notice on your weekend trip to visit your grandparents in Indianapolis, though you didn’t clue them in on the source of your newfound confidence.

When you get back to the pool that Monday, you’re about to whisper in Billy’s ear to ask if he has a second to “check out a situation in the locker room” with you. What you find stops you dead in your tracks.

His arm is wrapped around Heather. They’re laughing together and she presses her lips to his cheek; he tilts her chin so he can kiss her passionately. It’s more tender, more loving than the way he kisses you.

The ground starts to spin, and you grab onto a plastic chair to steady yourself. As soon as Heather walks away, you march over to Billy.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, trying to keep your volume down. You wince as your voice cracks, giving away the sadness tucked inside your frustration. “Are you with Heather now? Like, with her?”

“Uh, guess so,” Billy replies snidely, twirling a toothpick between his teeth.

You bite your lower lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I thought you said you weren’t the dating type?”

He shrugs. “Just kinda happened,” he says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just destroy your world. “You were away, she asked me to go to Scoops and grab some ice cream; one thing led to another, and…” he trails off. “Not like you and I were exclusive or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t wanna be!”

“And why do you think that is, huh?” Billy shoots back. “Why do you think I’d rather be with Heather than with you?” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair slightly. “You’re so goddamn uptight, y’know? Always worrying about the way you look, about people seeing us in the car. Heather just…goes with the flow. I can’t deal with someone so high-maintenance. Actually, most guys can’t.” With that, he storms out of the break room, leaving you trembling.

A wave of nausea washes over you as you slump down in a seat. All you wanted was to be wanted, and you blew it. Billy’s right; your insecurities keep you unloveable.

You try to take deep breaths, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Your shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so you pray that you’re able to collect yourself before you’re due to start your watch. You’re sobbing too hard to notice the two boys peering into the lounge, watching you with growing concern before dashing to the nearest payphone.

You slide on your sunglasses to hide your red, puffy eyes. The last thing you need is people asking you what’s wrong. Just as you’re about to walk over to the lifeguard stand–to switch with Billy, of all people–you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Eddie.

“Um, hey,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Will and Dustin called; said they saw Hargrove yelling at you, and you crying. Told me to ‘get my scrawny ass here, stat.’” He gives a terse chuckle. “Exact quote, by the way.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and never let go, but you remember what he said to you. Worse, that he was right. “‘M fine,” you lie, and Eddie sees right through it.

He gingerly takes off your sunglasses, heart breaking as he gets a glimpse of your tearful expression. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. It’s so tender, sweet, and selfless. It’s Eddie.

“Go tell your boss that you’re not feeling well, yeah?” he says finally, still not letting you go. “We can go grab something to eat, and you can tell me everything.”

“‘M not hungry,” you shake your head, “and I just wanna go home.” Your voice is whiny, but you’re too sad to care.

“Okay, well, you’re still leaving,” Eddie insists, and you don’t have the energy to argue. “The sheep,” he gestures to where Dustin and Will are standing, and they wave as though they’ve been caught, “will tell your boss that you’re sick. Lady problems or whatever.” You feel his fingers intertwine with yours as he leads you to his van. “And you can tell me as much as you want, ‘kay?”

You nod wordlessly as Eddie gives the younger kids a thumbs-up. He normally chooses the music, whether he’s the driver or the passenger, but this time, he tilts his chin towards the radio and says, “all yours.”

You turn the dial until you hear a Fleetwood Mac song, expecting Eddie to crack a joke or complain about your selection, but he just taps the steering wheel to the beat. When he drives to a gas station to fill up his tank, you don’t think anything of it until he comes back out with a bag full of Haagen-Daaz.

“Got all your favorite flavors,” he announces, plopping back into the driver’s seat. “I know you said you’re not hungry, but you will be at some point. So…sustenance.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you manage a small “thanks,” as he drives you back to your place. When he pulls into the driveway, he waits awkwardly for you to say anything else.

Finally, he breaks the silence by handing you the bag from the Shell station. “Don’t want this to melt,” he offers lamely, frowning when you burst into a fresh round of tears. You hear him mutter, “that’s it,” and he kills the engine, jumping out of the van to run to your side. “Up and at ‘em.” He pulls you out of your seat, scooping you up and flinging you over his shoulder with ease. He kicks the van door closed, walking to your front door before setting you down.

“That’s my favorite method of transportation,” you giggle softly, and he breathes a sigh of relief as your humor peeks through.

“Save a horse, ride a Munson, right?” he jokes back, blushing when he realizes the double entendre he just made. “Uh, anyway, I can leave if you want…” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets nervously.

“You can come in,” you say, unlocking the door. He follows you, heading straight for the kitchen and grabbing two spoons from the drawer.

“Figured we could start with cookie dough,” he says, holding out the pint. “Ladies first.”

The two of you sit on the couch in comfortable silence as you dig into dessert. Halfway through, you look up at him through misty eyes. “I’m waiting for the ‘I told you so,’” you say softly.

“Huh?”

You tell Eddie everything: Billy’s claim that he wanted something casual, his reaction to you asking to keep your shirt on, the venom he spewed earlier today. “I never should’ve trusted him.”

But Eddie’s seeing red, fists clenched and jaw squared in pure rage. “The fuck did he say?” He stands up so quickly that he nearly knocks over the pint of ice cream.

“Where are you going?”

“To kick his sorry ass!” Eddie exclaims, grabbing his keys from the table where he tossed them.

“He’s not worth it,” you tell him. “Just…can you stay here and eat ice cream with me? Please?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, plopping back down next to you. “But I still wanna punch him in the face.”

“You and me both,” you agree, taking another spoonful before posing the question you’ve been too afraid to ask. “Do you think I’m a slut?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his bite of cookie dough. “A slut? Because you slept with some douchebag?”

“No,” you say quietly, “for having sex with someone because I wanted to feel beautiful.”

His whole body deflates. “That’s why you…why wouldn’t you think you’re beautiful?”

You bark out a tense laugh. “Where to start? Um, my face, my hair, my body…oh, and apparently, now I’m too insecure and uptight to love, so…”

Eddie cradles your face between his strong, calloused hands. “Listen to me,” he says. “You are the most goddamn beautiful person on this Earth. Your eyes…I could stare into them all day. You have the cutest nose I’ve ever seen. Your smile makes me smile. And your hair…no matter how you wear it, you always look good. Sometimes you say things like, ‘ugh, my hair’s a mess today,’ and I’m just flabbergasted.”

“Flabbergasted?” you interject, amused by his word choice.

“Flabbergasted,” Eddie affirms. “And your body is…I’m gonna sound like such a creep here, so forgive me, but your body is so fucking hot. Like the night we had that argument, you said something about no one else wanting to sleep with you. But I know for a fact that that’s not true.”

“It’s not? Who wants to sleep with me?”

Eddie laughs nervously as he slowly raises his hand. “Um, me? But not, like, in a smash-and-dash way. Like in a take you on dates, hold your hand, be your boyfriend kinda way? Oh my God, just tell me to shut up. Please.”

“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” you mutter.

“Nope. It’s the truth. Cross my heart.” He makes the slashes across his chest with his fingers. “Wait…the thought of us together cheers you up?”

You nod shyly. “Just never thought you’d be into me like that.”

“Well, I am. I so fuckin’ am, holy shit.” Eddie looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s holding back. “Can I take you on a date? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d love a date with you, Eddie Munson.” You watch as a grin spreads across his face, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He lays his arm along the back of the couch, not quite sure whether to put it around you. That’s how the two of you fall asleep as the remaining ice cream melts in its container.

Seeing Billy at work the next day still stings a bit, but it’s easier than it was. You know he’s an idiot, a player, a manipulative piece of shit. And you have a date with Eddie, who is the kindest, gentlest soul you’ve ever met. And you deserve that kindness.

Eddie picks you up from work as usual, but instead of his typical ripped jeans and a concert tee, he’s wearing…well, un-ripped jeans and a concert tee. But he smells like a new cologne as he kisses your cheek, blushing as he pulls away.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he muses, reaching over to hold your hand. “Seriously, I’m so lucky you agreed to go out with me, shit.” He smiles at you, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just…” He can’t seem to shed his dopey, lovesick grin. “Told myself I wasn’t gonna kiss you; like, kiss you kiss you, until the end of the date. But you just look so goddamn gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” you duck your head, trying to hide from him. “I’m the lucky one. My date is hot and has a kickass personality to match.”

“Guess we both got lucky tonight.” Eddie bites his lower lip when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean–”

You squeeze his hand, effectively silencing his racing thoughts. “Where are you taking me?” you ask, trying to change the subject. It’s not that you were embarrassed by his Freudian slip, but after what happened with Billy, you weren’t looking to rush into sex.

“You’ll see,” Eddie says, excitement building in his voice. A few moments later, you’re walking into the Coffee and Contemplation Café, with Eddie holding the door open for you. Your sundress swishes along your thighs as you take a seat across from Eddie. He immediately takes your hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs.

“Eds?”

“Mm?”

“I need to look at the menu.”

“Oh.” He lets go of your hands, looking a bit sad as he does. “Sorry, baby. Shit–can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really like that, actually.” Baby. You’re Eddie’s “Baby.”

When the waitress comes around, you order a vanilla latte, and Eddie orders coffee with cream and two sugars. “That’s what Wayne always orders when we go to the diner,” he explains. The two of you decide to split a piece of crumb cake–one slice, two forks.

“This is a really nice date, Eds.” You wrinkle your nose. “Hmm. I need a cute nickname for you now, huh?”

Eddie taps his chin as though he’s deep in thought. “How about…stud muffin?” He feigns offense when you giggle. “What? Am I not studly?”

“Oh, the studliest,” you reassure him, still laughing. “I like ‘babe,’ though. Because you are a babe.”

“I dunno…kinda like stud muffin better,” Eddie teases, taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, tell me all about your day.”

And so you fill him in on every detail, from the kid who peed in the pool to the mother who berated the lifeguards for “allowing” it to happen. “Like we can control their bladders or something,” you add with an eye roll, and Eddie cackles. A strand of hair falls in his face, and you tuck it behind his ear.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, peering at you from under impossibly long lashes. That’s when you lean in and kiss him, soft and slow and sweet. He’s not expecting it; probably thinking he was going to initiate when he dropped you back off at home. His lips remain frozen for a second until his brain registers what’s happening. Then he’s kissing you back, palm on your cheek.

“Was that okay?” you ask finally. Eddie’s response is to slam a $10 bill on the table and grab your hand, leading you back to his van. He kisses you again against the side door; it reminds you of how Billy kissed you that night that you…

Eddie notices that you’ve stopped kissing him back, and he pulls away. “Baby? You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. He’s not Billy. Not even close. Not even a little bit. You take a deep breath. “Just nervous, c-cause the last time I did this, it, uh, didn’t end well for me.”

Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling you towards him. “Hey, hey,” he coos. “There’s no rush, yeah? And I’d never–never make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I know.” And you do. So for now, you just rest your head against his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of his heartbeat.

The next month before you leave for school is filled with dates, each better than the last. Eddie takes you to the carnival, the drive-in movie theater, picnics at Lover’s Lake…anywhere he can. The kissing gets more fun; you’re able to focus on Eddie–your Eddie–and not on your past experiences.

The night before you’re set to go back to college, you’re ready to take that next step with him. The two of you are sitting on his bed and listening to music; your plans for an outdoor music festival having been squandered by the pouring rain. You move closer to him, straddling his waist as you press your lips to his neck.

“‘M gonna miss you s’much,” you pout, moving your mouth to his. “Want you, babe. All of you.”

Eddie gives a terse chuckle. “I want you too; so fuckin’ bad. But we don’t have to do this just because you’re leaving. I’m not gonna break up with you. In fact, I…” he swallows thickly before continuing, “I think I love you, baby. Shit, no; I know I love you.”

“I know I love you, too,” you smile, kissing him again. “And I want to have sex with you because I love you, and I want to show you.” You dig your fingers into Eddie’s hair, nuzzling your noses together. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he breathes, hands settling on your hips. “You’ll let me know if you wanna stop, right? Just tell me, and we can go back to cuddling. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you say, and it’s the truth.

Eddie nods. “Okay. On your back, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You do as he asks, and you feel his lips trail down your torso, stopping just before he reaches the throbbing ache between your legs. “Yes?” he looks up at you patiently.

“Yes.” With that, he unbuttons your shorts and tugs them down your legs, running his middle finger along your lace panties. He shivers as he feels how wet you are, all for him, and he nearly tears the underwear in half trying to yank it off of you.

“Wanna taste you,” Eddie mutters.

“Y-You can taste me.” You whimper, and Eddie wastes no time licking a soft stripe along your folds, easily finding your clit. “Right there.” His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over it. “Holy shit, yes, right fucking there.”

Eddie detaches from your sex for a second, chin already shiny with your slick. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises f’me, please.” He sounds just as desperate as you do as he plunges back between your legs, this time slipping a finger inside you as he licks. You’re moaning, and there’s no faking it this time. Eddie’s touch has you floating, You can vaguely sense him rutting up against the mattress, so turned on just by eating you out. He’s holding onto your hips, eyes never leaving your body.

“Gonna come, feels s’good,” you whine, never wanting this feeling to end. You grind up into his face as you ride out your orgasm, gripping the sheets and screaming his name. “Eddie, Eddie, I’m coming, holy fuck!” After he brings you back down from the high, you push yourself up onto your knees.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Was that too much?”

“Just wanna return the favor.” You lean over to rub him through his tented jeans, but he shakes his head.

“Not tonight,” he mutters, “I’m too pent up. I’ll never last in that perfect little mouth of yours.” He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips. “Can I be inside you?”

“Yes, babe. Please.” You look down, realizing that your shirt is still on. You want to show him all of you, let him touch every last inch of your body, but you hesitate to take it off.

Eddie must be able to read your mind, because he tilts your chin in his direction. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wanna see you naked,” he admits, “but only if you’re ready. You can keep it on if you’re more comfortable.”

You inhale in for three and exhale for three before you respond. “I’m ready. I’m comfortable.” You lift the shirt above your head, revealing your bare breasts. The incredulous stare on your boyfriend’s face is almost comical. “Are you okay?” you giggle.

“No, I think I died and went to Heaven,” he says, letting his thumbs graze over your hardened nipples. He undresses himself in record time, revealing his long, thick cock. Pre-cum drips from the tip. “Baby, I wanna spend all night touching you, but I’m gonna bust if–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him.

He reaches into his dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and removing it from its wrapper. “Can you put it on me?” he whispers, and you oblige, rolling it down his length. He hisses at your touch, too sensitive to ask you to linger there. He sets you back on the pillows, slowly pushing into you a little at a time until he’s fully inside. “Good, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl. “S’good. You can–you can go faster, whenever you want.”

Eddie threads his fingers with yours, putting your hands up next to your head as he rocks into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you.” He punctuates each I love you with a kiss to your lips.

“I love you, Eddie. ‘M all yours.”

“All mine,” he echoes, “my baby’s all mine. And I’m hers. Her pussy belongs to me and–shit–my cock belongs to her.” He squeezes your hand, not possessively, but as a reminder that it’s him. It’s him, it’s you, it’s the two of you together. His eyes never leave yours, and he suddenly smiles. “You make me so damn happy.”

“This has been the best summer of my life,” you agree, “and it’s all because I have you, babe.”

His chest rubs against yours ever-so-slightly, and the sensation of your breasts has him weak. “I’m gonna come.” His expression is apologetic. “Shit, I didn’t wanna–”

“Let go for me,” you assure him, feeling yourself come undone as you speak. “We c-can come together.” Your second orgasm of the evening happens on his cock as he spills into the condom with a wanton moan. He’s still for a minute, catching his breath before removing himself from your warmth.

“I love you,” he says as he kisses you, sliding off the barrier and tying it. “Let me toss this, and then can we cuddle? I kinda just wanna hold you.”

“I’m down to cuddle before round two,” you say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a few minutes to reload.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says, climbing back into bed and sighing happily as you snuggle into his chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

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

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ncteez · 1 year

Text

philoselene (k.h.j)

You weren’t sure what to think of Hongjoong, with his ever-changing hair and ever-growing piercings. He is the complete opposite of you, and you’re unsure of why he keeps gravitating toward you, or why he found an interest in you at all. Through his eyes though, he swears you’d be able to handle the weight of the moon if he were to pull it down for you.

or the one where hongjoong would do just about anything for you, and he can’t help but show it when he’s got you on top of him for the first time.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog.

WORDCOUNT― 6.2k

PAIRING― alt!stoner!hongjoong x afab reader

CONTENT― some weed smoking and moon gazing happen, a little bit of them struggling to translate their thoughts into words that make sense, very fluffy stuff, he’s a little shy about his body, service top hongjoong, first time together, intensely passionate smut

NOTE― just fyi, i know the description makes it seem like the reader is insecure. I can assure you, she is not. It’s just two people learning that they fit together like a puzzle, and wanting to know each other’s thought processes. anyway, im very in love with hongjoong and that’s why I basically just wrote comfort smut. BYE. not proof read so pls dont point out my typos, ill actually cry.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― makeout sessions, they’re really really high so the experience is kind of slow motion, frottage, sweet-talking rather than dirty talking, brief mutual masturbation, missionary on a couch, he’s a service top but it’s not heavily described here bc like– he’s just hella into her and feels good no matter what she does, ummm, unprotected sex bc im lazy

The man whose hair changes at each new moon cycle, the one who smells like winter but has the eyes of a smoldering flame spreading to a forest fire. Both his charm and his wit are entirely unmatched if anyone you’ve ever met in your life is to go by. His hands are the most gentle, and goddamn does he know how to dress to piss off the local business owners.

A new ear piercing for him usually meant heartbreak, be it a lost friend, a failed project, or even an incorrect lunch order at the run-down diner across town. Everything about Hongjoong is telling. He is not mysterious, nor does he want to be.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite in terms of how you carry yourself. You worry too much, your posture is slouched when it shouldn’t be, your confidence wavers more often than you’d like to admit, and you keep to yourself most of the time. Minimizing yourself, snuffing out any flame or glow that threatens to show to anyone less than a close friend. You dress much like your personality, muted.

This is why you question the dynamic on each date you end up on with Hongjoong. Dinner dates, movie dates, walks in the park. Normal. fucking. dates. The dynamic between the two of you is anything but natural to you. Time after time now, seeing him after sunset looking at you much like he would if he were seeking out constellations, you feel like you’re not a person meant to be looked at this way. You’ll never get used to another person wanting to spend this time with you, like they’re finding comfort in your silence. What do you have that seems to fulfill him?

Even now, six hours after the date started, you find yourself next to Hongjoong and his bright smile. The small rolled joint burned out minutes ago, and the dull city skyline bursts with pinks and purples from the sunset. His smile is one that is entirely soft and focused on you. All of his attention, on you. The one thing in the world you hate, he gives to you and makes you feel as though you don’t hate it nearly as much as you did before meeting him.

“Hongjoong,” You whisper into the brisk air, bumping your leg against his as he tilts his chin up as if to let you know he’s listening to whatever you want to say. “This is our– what? Seventh date?”

He nods with a hum.

“First time at my place though, so we can still call it a first date.” He offers, reaching his arms out and feeling the stretch of his muscles relax him. His arms fall back to his side and his eyes fall back on you.

Never have you had this many first dates, nor has any man treated each date as such.

“Why do you do that?” You laugh, slouching back against the weathered wicker couch, the balcony offering both the most wonderful and shitty view of the city.

“Do what?” He asks, turning slightly towards you with a curious look.

“Like, I don’t know,” you trail off, for some reason unable to look him in the eye as you continue to spiral into the slow and fuzzy high that his weed offers to you. He looks insanely attractive tonight, especially in this lighting. The colors somehow glow against his skin, contrasting with the dark and plush sweater he has on. It’s weathered much like this wicker furniture, but you imagine he’s comfortable inside of that sweater, sitting on this furniture, breathing in the same air you’re breathing out. “You always call each date the first one, I’m wondering when it’ll be, like, something more than that?”

You can hear yourself talking and you can’t help but think you sound fucking stupid, but he chuckles in response.

“I probably sound lame saying it but, I like that I learn something new about you each time. It’s not my fault that it always feels like a first date with you.” He laughs, making a face towards you that makes you laugh a bit louder than expected.

“You act like I have something new and interesting to tell you every day,” He cuts you off as you try to speak.

“For instance, today I learned that you don’t even like the coffee I bring to you.” He’s snide when he says it, raising a brow at you.

“What? Yes, I do!” You defend, definitely lying as you feel your stomach hit the concrete floor of his balcony. You’ve always been a terrible liar.

“Is that why you always leave it in my cup holder pretending like you forgot it?”

You narrow your eyes at him but can’t keep up the act much longer as the smile creeps wider across your lips.

“You’re too observant of me,” You joke, not realizing how true it actually is. “You know I usually spend my days avoiding the idea of people noticing what I do, right?”

He nods towards you, face fond and droopy from his high.

“I think you’re cute when you notice that I notice,” he blinks away from you, watching the sun fall and the moon take its rightful spot in the sky. “Besides, if you don’t like it, you’d stop letting me take you out, right?”

He’s actually looking for confirmation this time, not looking at you, and mostly preparing for the make-it-or-break-it moment now that you’ve finally worked up the courage to stop going with his flow.

“I think I’m just confused over you wanting to spend time with me at all, actually.” You admit, knowing for a fact that you appear to be the most boring human alive, and not many people stick around to find the actual personality within you.

Hongjoong looks at you this time, genuinely shocked that you’d even say that or feel confused over why he chooses to spend time with you.

“Well, I can go down a list of reasons, if you want?”

You prop yourself up, fixing your posture and wiggling your brows.

“Please, do.” You say, feeling a permanent smile form on your face.

Hongjoong claps his hands on his thighs before lifting his legs and turning on the wicker couch to face you, tucking himself into the smallest version of himself as he huddles into his oversized sweater.

“Alright, for starters, you’re not as boring as you think you are. What person would have climbed that no-trespassing fence with me without asking a single question?”

He’s just gloating at you now. Most people would absolutely do that with him.

“Literally, anyone would have done that with you.”

He waves you off.

“You like the same anime I like and the same music. You even knew of the band I was in during my senior year of high school!”

You nod, he’s got a point there.

“You’re not loud or constantly demanding attention. I like that you just kind of exist. Sometimes I just need to exist too, but people always expect more, you know?”

Hongjoong’s eyes trail off, landing on the darkening sky and seeking out the moon.

“When we hang out, I feel like there’s nothing we actually need to do in order to call it a date. You’re the only person I’ve continuously taken out. You’ve made it clear that you expect nothing from me.”

You nod, but tilt your head in question as your own eyes follow his gaze to the moon.

“So, it makes me want to give you everything.”

Unsure of if it’s the weed talking through him or if he meant what he just said, you still find yourself melting a bit at his voice when he says it. The words feel like they hold a lot of weight for him, and you didn’t even know that weight existed until now.

“Do you always say these types of things when the moon is in the right position, and the weed is dank as hell?”

He snorts, tucking his chin into his chest as he laughs before reaching out and swatting you on the shoulder.

“What I’m trying to get at here, because I know by now that you’re not going to pick up on any hints is that I kind of want this to be the last first date.”

You find yourself panicking at that, unsure of what the fuck that’s supposed to mean. Hongjoong instantly regrets his awful attempt at wording that. “Unmatched wit” his ass, he can genuinely say the dumbest shit in the most important situations.

“Wait–” He pauses, mouth falling slack as he visibly searches his brain for the correct words. “Okay, let me rephrase that.”

You wait, feeling relieved at his panic and the slow recovery of what he just said to you.

“What I meant by last first date, is like, um–” It’s lost on him again as you watch his eyes squint into a smile instead, the sparkle of his eyes matching the glints from his various earrings. “I’m trying to ask you to be my girlfriend, fuck.”

This. This is another reason why he likes you this much. Though he saw your eyes fall, and though he said what he needed to say incorrectly at first, you didn’t question him. You didn’t put words in his mouth or react in a way that wouldn’t allow his own recovery. His ability to talk to women right now is highly reduced, but his ability to talk to you is forever comfortable even when he fucks up. You let him fuck that up, and now you’re smiling at him and he can’t help but let his heart swell three times its original size.

“So,” he coughs, looking back to the moon and then back at you. “I guess we can’t have any more first dates if every time we see each other, we are technically, like, dating, right?”

You snort at his inability to string together a coherent sentence, knowing full well that both of you have the ability to navigate everyday conversations high. Given the fact that the two of you have been in public before pretending like you didn’t just hotbox his car. It’s just that, this isn’t an everyday conversation and you’d like to think that you probably sound like an idiot too. You’re somehow right there with him even if you feel like you’re on two different pages of two different books.

“You have a point,” you say, managing to fit his words into a sentence that makes sense in your brain. “Delivery could have been better though.”

The lighting on his cheekbones says enough about his own permanent smile matching yours. If you believed in fairytales, you’d genuinely think that the two of you are in your own little world with nothing but the moon and expensive ass weed.

“You’re supposed to say yes, by the way.” Hongjoong urges you, both of you kind of entering into a giggle fit because of the warmth spreading throughout your bodies.

You nod, agreeing that, yes, you’ll definitely be his girlfriend.

The first kiss with Hongjoong may have been the warmest you’ve ever felt. It was smooth, a little peckish, and overall quite sweet. Even over the weeks he had been taking you out, he never once kissed you or did little more than be some of the best company you could find yourself with. The first kiss taking place after making things official was something you weren’t used to.

And so, that first kiss on his balcony became a second kiss, and then a third and fourth, until the two of you moved into his living room to escape the breeze that had by then made your fingers cold. Fifth, sixth, seventh– and then finally, the eight kiss was one that could have meshed all of the kisses in your life into one. The first heated kiss.

His couch became more comfortable than it was when you first came here, especially now with him beside you, cradling your face and leaving gentle kisses all along your jawline before trailing back to your lips. He’s your boyfriend now and for some reason, you don’t feel yourself doubting why that is. He is proving to you right now how much he likes you, and you try to do the same for him. Your hazy eyes are unable to stay open for too long under the pressure of his lips fluttering all over your face, and you feel loved for the first time in a long time.

It didn’t feel awkward to reach up with your eyes closed to try and put your fingers in his hair, even when you accidentally knocked him on the cheek instead. It didn’t feel like an alarm went off when he tugged at you to pull you over him, leaning himself back on the couch and reaching blindly for the tv remote to avoid the silence in the room save for lips smacking.

For the first time with another person, you felt safe and at home when his hands were roaming your body.

Both jackets were already off, and your cold fingers warmed up in his as he would eventually intertwine his fingers with yours as he kissed you. It didn’t feel rushed, and maybe it was just because you both were in a lazy state of peaked high, but you can almost feel every single touch be amplified. You’d be lying if you said your entire body wasn’t tingling. More silent than it has ever been between the two of you, it still feels like it’s where you should be.

Hongjoong’s fingers in yours, his lips on yours, his tongue licking against yours, all of it is good. The sensations swam throughout your body to the point that you barely even notice that you’re turned on.

Is it too much on the…what was it, seventh date? Is it too much on the first night of being his girlfriend after your first and eighth or thirteenth kiss? His lips are curled into this permanent little smile that tells you otherwise. He’s the one who pulled you on top of him, he’s the one who hasn’t pushed because he somehow knew you were enjoying the steamy make out session too much to let it end here.

There’s no end goal at this moment with Hongjoong, nothing is telling you that you need to get off or get him off despite your body already tingling for it. There’s no rush with the man under you, with his moon-like eyes and messy dyed hair. He’s just as telling as he always has been, and without a word, you know that at this moment, he would take anything you give him and be perfectly content.

“I can see you thinking, you know,” Hongjoong whispers, his fingers tightening their grip between your own. “We can just do this, I’m perfectly fine with just this.”

You shake your head at him, squeezing his fingers and looking at him for a brief moment. Seeing him now like this, with his kissed lips and his hair just as messy as always, it hits you again that he’s yours. Not in a way that’s possessive, but like, he wants to be yours, and he wants you to be his.

Your eyes glance down to his lap, with his length sitting firmly between your legs and it makes your heart swell. Typically, men in this position would push you, pull you, and move you around on their arousal to try and get some sort of release but, not Hongjoong. He’s containing himself, assuring you that you don’t have to do anything more. Regardless of you sitting on his thighs, dangerously close to being able to please him this way.

“Do you want more, though?” You ask him.

His eyes are half-lidded and looking up at you as you speak, glancing down to your lips again as if he already misses them. You can see his answer in the silence, his grip on your hand tightening as his brain malfunctions at the very idea of you being the one to ask. He wants more for the sake of having you, but he also wants more for the sake of pleasing you.

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation of his silent answer, leaning down to kiss against the corner of his mouth before leaning back again.

He gives you a reassuring nod, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him, onto his hardened length with a soft mewl at you.

“I do,” he whispers against your ear, nuzzling his nose against your neck and trying to prevent his hips from bucking up as you sit on him. “I can give you more, too.”

The way he says it to you with a soft rasp makes your stomach do flips, almost as if he’s pleading for you to let him, it makes your entire body tingle. Never has a man made you feel this way when you’re being intimate. You suppose Hongjoong is right though, from what he said before, about how almost every date appears to be the first one with the number of new things you learn about each other.

You don’t need to respond to him though, because almost immediately after those words you turn your face slightly to kiss his temple, and he instantly releases your hand and puts it on the other side of your waist. Practically caging you against him as he holds you in place and dips back in to kiss you.

Within that kiss, you can hear his need. Throaty groans as he presses his length against you. Only the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric can be heard but it’s kind of a pretty sound. His weathered sweater feels warm when you tangle your fingers into the loosened fringe along his neck like, trying to work your hips to match his within this tight hug.

By the time he notices that you’re moving your hips on him, his grip loosens and he pulls back from the kiss, watching you pull yourself up and planting your arms on his shoulders to actually grind against him.

He runs his hands up and down your waist at this point, eyes watching the way you work yourself against him with a deep and burning fondness. He appears to be in awe, a crooked smirk appearing on his softened and kissed lips.

“You know,” Hongjoong chuckles softly, closing one eye and focusing on the feeling of the dry drag against him.. “It might just be because I’m high but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good with denim practically rubbing me raw–”

Your hips stop, and you try to ignore the fact that on any other day, those words would have absolutely ruined the mood, but for some reason, it doesn’t. You let out a breathy laugh, falling forward and laughing against his neck. The moon must be in the right position or something tonight, because everything does feel insanely good. Then again, maybe it’s just that he’s in the right position, or maybe it’s just you.

“Why would you–” You cut yourself off as you laugh, breathing in the scent of him once more before leaning back and backing off of his lap slightly. The look he gives you is nothing but fond and it kind of makes you feel more dazed than you already do. “Let's take them off then?”

Hongjoong gives you a polite nod, his hands releasing you but still chasing your warmth as you pull yourself off of him and wait for him to remove his pants.

He’s quick with it, of course, and you take it another step further to take yours off too, not looking him in the eye as you do it. Almost to hope that he doesn’t see you do it, to hope that he won’t think about it, or smile at it, or make a comment on it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t and when you sit back on his lap, feeling his bare legs against yours and noting how fucking warm his skin is, all you can do is pretend like feeling someone else’s skin against yours is supposed to feel fleeting like this.

Your panties sit against his boxers now, and his warmth seeps through you so fast that you want to feel more. See more, touch more, kiss more, love more. You don’t hesitate to loop your fingers into a particularly big rip on his sweater and tug on it.

“This too?” He tilts his head, his own hand fiddling with the same rip that your fingers are intertwined with, and then looks away shyly..

All you can do is feel yourself spiraling further into the feeling of being with him. He’s got one strand of hair standing stiffly too, probably from the static of the couch rubbing against it, but it’s cute. It’s attractive, everything about him is attractive.

His eyes continue to avoid your eyes when he lifts his sweater off of him, shivering at the cool apartment air hitting his skin all over rather than just through those rips and tears. You take note, especially when he does look at you and pulls you down into a kiss again as quickly as he can. He’s not letting you see him like this, bare from the waist up and almost from the waist down.

The two of you must have been one soul at one point because you know what he’s doing and never have you had to be the one on the other side of this situation. Usually, you’re the one hiding when it feels overwhelming, you’re the one imagining that the person with you would be searching for imperfections. You pull back from his kiss, looking into his eyes before glancing down at his bare chest and stomach.

“You’re being shy,” You comment, leaning down to plant a kiss on his collarbone before looking back at him and tilting your head. “You’re never shy.”

You work up the confidence in yourself now, lifting your shirt off and doing your best not to immediately mimic what he’s already done. Meaning, you don’t hide your exposed skin and instead, you try to sit proudly on top of him.

Hongjoong just watches, his lips falling slack at your bareness with a relieved sigh.

“How can I not be shy right now?” he smiles, leaning himself up this time and kissing against the plush flesh of your breast.

You sigh at the feeling of his lips against your chest, fingers automatically finding their way into his hair as you focus on the feeling. The emotion of it all sends you into overdrive because really? Everything about Hongjoong is loud, and you’re making him shy?

The goosebumps continuously rise and fall as he works his lips across one breast to the other, up until his fingers are pushing the fabric of your bra to the side. He pulls back momentarily to look at them, eyes darting from one nipple to the other before looking up at your face.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” Hongjoong admits, dipping in and flicking one of your nipples with his tongue.

“Oh?” You ask, officially grinding your hips again on his lap, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers. The drag feels lighter now that there’s not much fabric preventing the feeling. “For how long?”

“Third date,” he admits, trailing back to the other breast and sucking just next to your nipple, his other hand easily stimulating the one he just neglected. “Didn’t want to rush with you though, I’m always rushing.”

You hum at his words, feeling special. All he makes you feel is special. And when he finally releases your chest from his mouth and falls back against the couch, even the way he looks at you confirms that your feelings about this aren’t unfounded.

You put more effort into your hips now, your mind spinning by this point at the way his touches are gentle. His chest rises and falls with each perfect drag up his length, small mewls of pleasure spilling from his lips every few seconds. Still, he just looks at you.

There’s really no rush here and the scary part about it is that you’re already so worked up that you wouldn’t mind a bit of rushing by this point.

More and more you move your hips, and more and more Hongjoong appears to lose his composure. His hands gripping at you, his eyes unable to stay on one part of your body for too long, his teeth showing as he bites his lip just to compose himself from making the next step– and then–

There it is. There he is, lunging forward and grabbing you, pulling you so close to him that your core is now seated directly on the head of his leaking cock. He moans at the pressure, kissing against your lips with so much passion that you wonder if he know’s how hot that was.

He’s lost in the moment and you can’t help but love it. With the way one of his hands holds your cheek as he kisses you and the other finds itself against your ass to push and pull you on his lap. At this point, you wonder if he could get off this way. With the way he’s acting, you think he could. Easily.

“Hongjoong,” You manage to gasp during the short breath between his frantic kiss. “We can–”

You’re cut off by him kissing you again, his hand guiding you down and forward on his length in a way that tells you he’s listening. He’s imagining what you’re about to say.

“We can,” He groans in an answer to your unfinished question, taking in a deep breath when he pulls back from the kiss and looking down to see the head of his cock occasionally peeking from the waistband of his boxers. “Just tell me what you want.”

Words escape you in that moment, so you use your body instead. Scooting back and almost taking the boxers with you you see a glimpse of his length. Heavy, leaking, twitching at the loss of your weight against it. You stare, wanting to devour this man whole at that moment but you hold back. You can give him head another time, honestly. After spending so long making out, grinding, and him playing with your breasts? You’re kind of ready to rush. Even just for a moment.

He watches your hands as they lower the boxers further, pulling them down until you can tuck them under your thighs to hold them in place. There, you just look at his cock and he just looks at you.

After a few seconds, you glance at him with shy eyes, blinking in a way to try and hide your blatant lust for what’s between his legs. He might believe that seeing you look at him this way is the best thing he’s ever experienced. His cock twitches unintentionally when he notices your blown pupils, especially when his eyes trail down. Now that the seat of your panties isn’t grinding against him, he can see a glimpse of the darkened wet spot.

Now what to do? The two of you sitting here, horny out of your goddamn mind and the weed on top of it amplifying every touch, you can imagine that you both look like a pair of deer in headlights.

Hongjoong finishes what you started though, running his hand down your sides before grabbing himself and gently pumping once. You watch as he gathers the dripping pre-cum in his palm before smoothing it down his entire length while his eyes never leave the spot between your legs. Then he continues that, touching himself as you’re on him as if to tell you that he can finish himself off so you don’t have to.

Without really thinking, you find your own hand doing the same, sliding down your panties and the instant your fingers bump against your clit, you jolt and find yourself letting out a soft and pained moan at the sensitivity.

“That–” Hongjoong takes in a sharp breath at the sound, squeezing the base of his cock with his hand and closing his eyes. “sounded so fucking pretty.”

It wasn’t intentional and for a brief moment, you felt embarrassed by the sound. Once again though, Hongjoong pulls that confidence out of you like it’s what he was born to do. At this point though, your legs feel like jelly after being spread on top of him for so long and you think he can tell.

“Mm, let’s move,” He comments, releasing his cock and tapping you with the other hand to stand up. “Lay back, I'll do the rest.”

He gently instructs you, grabbing a pillow and placing it at the end of the couch for your head to lay against. You do so without question, both your legs and heart are weak at seeing him like this.

“There, better?” He asks after you lay back. He leans over your side after a short nod from you and leaves a gentle kiss against your lips before placing his hand against your thigh. “Can I take these off?”

You nod, feeling him slip your panties down your legs before you watch him shimmy off his own boxers.

There, there it is. Both of you are entirely vulnerable to each other for the first time and you don’t feel a hint of wanting to stop. Not a worry, doubt, or insecurity can or will stop you at this moment.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger for too long at your exposed core just yet and instead he opts to place himself between your legs before leaning down and kissing you much like before. He can’t get enough of your lips if he’s being honest though.

You can feel the weight of his cock resting between your thigh and pussy and it does nothing more than make you want it more. You want him so bad by this point that you can’t really question how dumb you could sound actually asking for it.

“Can you, like–” Your words are lost on you when he pulls back with a small smile and a curious look.

“Do you want to?” He asks, despite knowing this is where the situation was headed.

You give a shy nod, reaching your hand down between the two of you and gripping him yourself for the first time.

He lets out a shaky breath with a laugh, humping his hips forward and into your hand intentionally when he does it.

“Fuck,” He seethes out. “Yeah, okay.” He sighs this time, without shame still fucking himself into your hand and showing a desperate need for what you’re asking for.

You can’t help but get lost in it. Your hand guided his cock down and against your clit for a brief moment of sensitive relief before releasing a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding when you position him at your entrance.

He pushes in without holding back, but he’s slow with it. The head of his cock sank into the warm and clenched walls causing a pleasant stretch. Both of you let out a moan at this, feeling him push in slowly, continuously, until he’s bottomed out and nuzzling against your ear.

“Sound so pretty when you moan,” he babbles against your ear, leaving wet and warm condensation from his breath there. “You could drive me insane like this.”

You moan again, not entirely for his pleasure but simply because it feels so good. His cock pulsing inside of you when you clench around him, his soft voice in your ear. Sensory overload has never felt so fucking euphoric to you.

“Like that, yeah.” Hongjoong rasps out this time, pulling his head back in time with his hips. Almost emptying you entirely before pushing back in with that same languid drag of his hips. His eyes are on you now though, arms at either side of your head as he works up a lazy kind of rhythm. One that offers a deep thrust each time.

You can’t help the sounds that fall from your lips, and you can’t help that your pussy is throbbing around him, and certainly, you can’t help that the feeling of one of his hands moving to your chest before dipping his head down and sucking against it makes you moan out a bit louder.

With each moan, he almost mimics you with his own. He’s riding off of the pleasure he’s giving to you. Then again, he’s always been fond of pretty sounds. Music is his passion but hearing you make such delicate sounds for him makes his head spin in all sorts of directions.

His thrusts become more pointed after a few minutes, fucking into you at a pace that feels equally as deep but more powerful now. Your hands grip at anything you can get ahold of, meaning, you grip him. His arms, his back, and then finally you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down.

His hips stutter at that before he grabs one of your legs and hikes it up and around his waist. This allows him to position himself slightly differently, fucking into you at an angle as his lips immediately fall to yours with a breathy laugh.

You can’t kiss him back this time though, with the new angle he’s driving into you causing his cock to bump repeatedly against a soft spot inside of you. Your mouth is left slack, releasing empty moans against his attempts to kiss you.

He takes intense note of it, keeping up his pace and falling in love with the way you react to this angle. His hands find purchase above your head and he leans back to watch you as he fucks into you.

“God,” He says slightly out of breath, dipping in briefly to kiss you on the forehead. “I’m going to come in about five seconds if you keep doing this.”

Your eyes roll back slightly at his words and instantly you’re shoving your hand between the two of you to push yourself over the edge. He swats your hand away though, still fucking into you all while intertwining his fingers with yours and using his other hand to do the work for you.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” He says, rubbing his fingers in harsh circles around your sensitive clit. “Let me take care of you,” he adds in a huff, his hips becoming more frantic each time he feels your pussy tense around him.

Just like that, you’re releasing in waves with trembling legs. To the point that you throw your other leg around his waist and essentially push him into you with such force that he can’t even thrust anymore. You hold him there, riding out your high and struggling to comprehend the fact that this man isn’t always attached to you like this.

He lays there, his head forced into the crook of your neck as he feels you come around him, clenching him so tightly that he can’t really help it either. Your warm and wet pussy is absolutely soaking him and all he can do is let it. All he can do is feel it, to the point that he’s driven over the edge too.

Even when you release your death grip hug, he stays in place, nuzzling further against your neck with choked moans and tight presses of his hips. He’s trying to drive his cock deeper than it can go as he releases it, the feeling too good for him to think straight. You run your fingers through his hair as he does it, trailing your fingernails down to his neck and across his back.

You can feel the goosebumps on his skin under your fingers, and when his body finally goes limp on top of you, all you can do is continue that motion. Scratching, rubbing, soothing him through both of your post-orgasm brain fog.

Becoming Hongjoong’s girlfriend was something that should have been expected if you’re being honest. It should be a normal relationship, with normal arguments, and normal sex. Except it’s not.

The relationship is anything but normal but you’d like to say you prefer it this way. With the late night dates to empty parking lots just to be outside of your own spaces, the gas station runs where the two of you need to buy every snack known to man to satiate your munchies. The repeat tv shows playing on his television because you never quite catch what happened in episode six despite watching in four times. To be fair, episode six always comes on when you’re almost entirely wrapped up with your boyfriend.

His hands are always stained with hair dye because he can’t be bothered to wear gloves, your hands are stained with hair dye too because you can’t not run your fingers through it when he’s between your legs. He’s always adding color to your life, be it literally or emotionally.

There’s something strange about the way he balances you. In public with him, all attention is on his ripped clothes and shining piercings and a quirk of the brow always comes when they see you holding his hand.

You kind of like the attention these days though.

#hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #ateez smut

1K notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 10 months

Text

Lima Syndrome

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Red Hood × reader

Summary | Red Hood finds you again and you’re eager to have some more fun. Part 2 of The Assignment

Warnings | HARD KINKS sexual content, 18+, gun play (barely), knife play, blood, stockholm syndrome, threats of violence, degradation, objectification, face fucking, breeding, rough sex, choking, fear play, attempted rape (not Jay), use of the word ‘rape’ several times.

Words | 6k

Notes | please please please read the warnings. (Also- this gif isn’t even slightly related to the fic but it makes me feral so I’m using it)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Part 1

After that night, when you scrambled home on shaky legs with his come dripping down your thighs, you wanted to get yourself off. But part of you felt like he would know and be disappointed. So you didn’t. You laid in bed, aching, unsuccessfully trying to force yourself to sleep.

The following morning you figured it was probably long enough that his lack of permission would be void of any power to make you feel guilty. So you grabbed your vibrator and thought of the masked man… The man who had kidnapped and raped you. You flinched at the thought.

And you enjoyed it, disgusting bitch. A voice deeper down pointed out. You ignored it though and came harder than you have by yourself in a long time.

You went about your schedule mostly the same. The only change was now you were always looking over your shoulder, always paying attention to your surroundings, hoping to see him again. You also left the news on every time you were home, waiting to hear something about a man in a red helmet. But it was like he had completely fallen off the face of the earth. There were a few times when a chill ran through your body and you felt like you were being watched, but you never saw anything.

You went out again only a week after your encounter with him. All of your friends were worried about what happened to you but you just lied and said you met someone and went to his place. That wasn’t unusual for you, so they bought it.

They only started to get suspicious when every single time you went out, you’d go home alone. You wouldn’t entertain any of the men offering to buy you a drink or show you a “good time” and they all picked up on the sudden change.

After another week and two more nights out, your hope started to fade. And after a third week and a fourth night out, any lingering hope left entirely. Now you were just sad and confused and guilty.

Maybe it was for the best that he hadn’t made another appearance. After all, nothing could come of this except an accidental attachment on your side and then heartbreak. As if that didn’t already happen, you thought with a scoff.

But although you were doing your best not to think of him all the time, that did not apply to when you masturbated. Obviously. This man was probably going to be masturbation material for the rest of your goddamn life.

You stared down at your phone as you stumbled along the sidewalk. You normally don’t walk alone at night, especially intoxicated, but you had a fight with your friend and you were crying and didn’t want to interact with anyone. It’s only a few blocks anyway.

You were a block away from home when someone grabbed you and pulled you into an alley. They slammed your back against the rough brick wall and you groaned as your vision started spinning from the sudden movement. You felt hands on your hips, sliding up and roughly squeezing your breasts. As you were disoriented, you almost thought it was the man who had been plaguing your every thought for the past month.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?”

It was definitely not him. His foul breath fanned your face and you tried not to gag. Although, throwing up on his face would probably be a good way to get him off of you. His hands moved back down your sides and he pushed your body con dress up to your waist.

“S-stop.” You whimpered, watching your vision go blurry with tears. You always thought you’d fight in a situation like this. You never figured you’d actually freeze. But you stood there, shaking and squeezing your eyes shut as you willed yourself not to cry. That’s all you could do though. You didn’t grab his hands as they started groping your ass, you didn’t push him away, you didn’t do anything.

All of a sudden he wasn’t touching you anymore. You couldn’t even feel his body heat in front of you. So you opened your eyes and found the man on the floor, his face turning bruised and bloody as your savior beat him. Once the man stopped moving but was still breathing, he stopped punching him and stood up, grabbed a gun from his pants, then shot the nearly unconscious man between his legs. He let out a shrill scream as he cried and you could see the blood soaking his pants and pooling on the floor beneath him.

You stood in shock, pressing yourself to the wall and staring at the man bleeding out in front of you. Once your vision was blocked by a body, you looked up and swallowed thickly. He looked somehow bigger than you remembered.

“Thank-“ His hand was on your throat and you took in a sharp breath as he leaned closer.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hissed, his voice distorted by the now repaired helmet.

“I- I’m sorry.” You whimpered. You weren’t scared- no, your body had long since been conditioned to know that he leads to an orgasm. Instead, your stomach dropped at the realization that he was mad at you. Disappointed in you. He didn’t move, all you could hear were his angry distorted breaths. You wanted to ask why he never came to see you.

“Were you following me?” Is what you asked instead. You couldn’t think of any other reason that would explain how he knew you were in trouble.

“No.” He took a step back and released your neck. Finally able to move your limbs now, you pulled your dress back down and stepped off of the wall.

“Then how’d you know I needed help?” It was a valid question. It’s not like you screamed or anything, so how could he have known? He didn’t speak for a moment, then pulled you into him by your waist and used a grappling hook to move you on top of the building. He landed effortlessly, still holding you against his body. The second your feet touched the ground, you froze, feeling bile rise in your throat.

“Oh god-“ You muttered, pushing him away, then turning around and throwing up. There wasn’t much because you forgot to eat before going out, but you still wanted to crawl into a hole from the embarrassment. Once the heaving stopped, you groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Oh my god this is so embarrassing.” You grumbled, wiping your mouth and leaning back up. You reluctantly turned around to face him, but kept your gaze to the side.

“I would offer to take you to another rooftop, but I’m worried you might throw up again.” He chuckled, making you turn to him with narrowed eyes.

“Why’d you even bring me up here?” You asked, crossing your arms and shivering from the cold breeze.

“Well for one to get away from the attempted rapist bleeding out on the floor three feet from us.”

“Saved from one rapist by another. Lucky me.” You deadpanned. You didn’t mean it. And you knew he knew you didn’t mean it.

“I prefer my toys to not be so drunk that they won’t be able to suck me off without throwing up. So you’re safe for now.” He teased and you couldn’t help but deflate at his words.

“Oh.” You said quietly, his rejection making your stomach twist, and not in a good way.

“Princess… did you miss me?” He asked in faux disbelief.

“No.” You scoffed, making him chuckle.

“C'mon. I'm taking you home.” He said, rather than teasing you like you thought he would.

“Didn’t know you were that kind of vigilante. Thought you were more of the… murder and kidnapping type.” You tried to hide your smile by biting your lip.

“Only for you, princess.” He purred. Or, you thought he did. The voice modulator made it hard to tell. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into him. “Are you going to throw up again?” You knew he was both teasing you and genuinely asking.

“No. I hope.”

He grappled you down to the street, then released you and started walking. You didn’t know how he knew your address but it wasn’t surprising. You stumbled to keep up with his pace in your drunken state and heels.

There was something almost comical about walking down the street next to a vigilante who you just watched probably kill someone.

Once you were outside of your apartment complex he stopped and you waited for him to say something.

“Lock your door when you get inside.” Was all you got before he turned around.

“Wait!” He froze, then turned to face you. “You said you- I thought…” You had practiced so many versions of this, ranging from begging for a reason to yelling at him to never find you again. But now that he was actually here, your mind was just blank.

“Why didn’t you come see me again?” You asked, not even bothering to hide the sadness in your words. He sighed and you bit your lips as you waited.

“I’ve been busy.” He said simply, making your blood boil. You clenched your jaw as you stared at him with narrowed eyes. Instead of giving him a reply, you just scoffed and turned to go into the building. He grabbed your wrist and you froze.

“Keep your window open tomorrow night. Not the one by the fire escape.”

“Fine.” You said, despite the fact that your whole body was buzzing.

The tiny amount of vomit on your shoes and the scrapes on your back were the only evidence that last night wasn’t just a dream. All you felt was excitement, even with the pounding in your head.

You spent the day cleaning around your apartment, even though he most likely wouldn’t even see it, and getting yourself ready. You showered and shaved, made sure you had some food and water in you, and brushed your teeth again.

You weren’t sure what to wear. You didn’t want it to seem like you were trying too hard but also you wanted to put some effort into your appearance. You decided on red lacy panties and a matching bralette with a robe covering you. It was a little on the nose to be honest but you thought he’d like it.

Sitting on your bed, you waited anxiously. You tried to relax, read a book, go on your phone, anything but just sitting here consumed in your thoughts. All were unsuccessful.

It was a little after 1 am when you heard a soft noise from your living room. You perked up, placing your book on the nightstand and staring at the doorway of your bedroom. He walked in slowly, looking around the room before settling his gaze on you.

“You cleaned.” You stared at the whites of his helmet in confusion.

“Um…” How does he know? Has he been in here before? “Yeah?” He chuckled as he took off the helmet.

“That was very thoughtful, princess, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of your apartment tonight.” You practically melted at the sound of his voice. After the past month, you started to forget what he sounds like.

“Well, it-“ You cut yourself off as you watched him place his helmet of the nightstand. “It needed to be cleaned anyway, so…” Your voice was already embarrassingly breathless.

“Did you miss me?” He asked again as he towered over you from his position next to the bed. You nodded and swallowed thickly. “Did you miss me… or my cock?” He smirked, taking a step closer to the bed. Your eyes flicked down to his pants and you licked your lips as you thought about him being in your mouth soon.

“Both.” You whispered through a breath, making him chuckle.

“Have you ever thought of trying a shrink? I’m sure they could help you with your Stockholm Syndrome problem.” He teased and you furrowed your brows.

“I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome.”

“No?” You shook your head. “Tell me princess, have you heard about what I do and how I do it?” You just nodded in response. “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

“That you go after criminals and you’re like Batman, only you kill them.” You thought you saw the slightest change in his expression when you mentioned the masked vigilante but it was gone before you could even tell what it was.

“And what do you think of that?”

“You’re making Gotham safer.” You shrugged and he chuckled again. “What?” You asked, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Sympathizing with your captor’s beliefs and behaviors is also a symptom.” That made you frown.

“Did you come here to psychoanalyze me or are you going to fuck me?” You snapped.

“Oh I have every intention of fucking you, princess. Stand up.” He took a step back and you stood between him and the bed. “Take off the robe.” He said lowly. You obeyed, slowly pulling the tie loose and letting it fall open. You slipped it off your shoulders and it fell to the floor.

“Fuck- look at you, baby. You wear this for me?” He purred. You nodded and bit your lip, watching his gaze trail over your body.

“God- get on your knees.” He groaned and you instantly dropped to the ground. “Take it out.” You eagerly reached for his pants and freed his length, then looked up at him through your lashes to find him already watching you.

“You know what to do.” That was all you needed to wrap your lips around his length and swallow him down as far as your throat would allow. He placed a hand on the back of your head, but didn’t take control just yet. As you bobbed up and down his cock with your hand on the space your lips couldn’t reach, you looked up at him and he let out a low moan.

You pulled off with a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his length and started stroking him. As your chest heaved and you glanced back down to his cock, you wondered how much he’d let you tease him before losing control.

You wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked, not going down farther and continuing to stroke him. When you swirled your tongue around it, his hips bucked into your mouth. Pulling off again, you stared at him with a grin, not even trying to act innocent.

“You think you’re being cute teasing me like this?” He rasped, threading his fingers through your hair, but not moving you yet.

“Maybe a little.” You replied coyly. His eyes roamed your face and he looked like he was deep in thought.

“I think you’ve forgotten your place, princess. Just a reminder,” He unholstered his gun and held it to your temple, “I don’t need you alive for this so I suggest you work hard and convince me not to kill you.” He smirked.

Your eyes fluttered as you swallowed thickly. Stupidly, you weren’t scared. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t kill you, it was just to add to the moment… Probably. You glanced between him and his cock, still feeling the cold barrel pressed to the side of your head.

“I think you’re bluffing.” You stated boldly, making his eyebrows shoot up. “I doubt you even turned the safety off.” Your smug expression dropped as he pointed the gun at the wall behind you and pulled the trigger. The safety was indeed off… Your point still stands though.

“Well I still don’t think you’ll kill me.” You shrugged, watching him point it at you again but not press the now hot barrel against your skin.

“Alright, princess. You did call my bluff. I may not want you dead but that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy hurting you. Now you either stop teasing, or I make this significantly less fun for you.” You stared at him, the eye contact serving as a silent battle for dominance. After only a few seconds, you huffed and turned your attention back to his cock. You continued your original rhythm of bobbing up and down his length, your hand covering the part you couldn’t reach. He let you do that for a while, then stopped you.

“No hands.” He gruffed. You reluctantly pulled your hand away and continued. Then, after another moment, “I didn’t come all this way for a shitty blow job. Do better.” The criticism twisted your stomach and not in a good way. You tried forcing yourself deeper on his length, taking deep breaths through your nose and focusing on relaxing your throat, but you were still an inch or two away from the base.

Pulling off of him, you panted for a moment then tried again. Once you were almost to the base, he bucked his hips and held your head still, making you gag from the suddenness. He let you pull off him again, waiting as you coughed and sputtered. You looked up at him, feeling your eyes start to water and he let out a low groan, then forced you back on his cock.

He held your head still and fucked your mouth, paying no mind to your gagging and choking. You watched him holster the gun, then his hand was joining the other on your head. He started moving you, meeting his thrusts half way, and your hands clawed at his thighs as you felt yourself getting light headed from the lack of oxygen. You let out a whimper that turned into a gag when his length hit your throat before he finally released you. Taking in a huge breath, you coughed violently.

“Get on the bed. I need my cock in you right fucking now.” He all but growled, using his grip on your hair to pull you to your feet before you scrambled onto the bed, him kneeling between your legs. You let out a low moan when he ripped your underwear, the lace tearing easily, and tossed them to the floor.

Leaning over you, he put his hand on your neck and dragged his cock through your folds, making your hips buck and your breath hitch. He didn’t make you wait long though before pushing in slowly, not stopping until his hips were pressed to yours. You let out a quiet whimper from the somewhat painful stretch and he put his head into the crook of your neck as he breathed heavily.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” He said through a moan, starting to slowly grind his hips. Your hands clawed at his back as you gasped out, struggling to adjust to the intrusion.

“I-“ You cut yourself off with another whimper and he pulled back to look at you.

“You what?” Despite the softness in his voice, it was clear that this was a demand, not a request.

“I haven’t… um- since last time I haven’t-“ You averted your gaze and his hand tightened on your neck in a warning. “I haven’t been with anyone else since before.” You rushed out, looking away from him as your cheeks grew warm. The motions of his hips slowed to a stop and you whined as you moved your hips, trying to get the friction back. His low chuckle made you look back at him as you stilled.

“What?” You asked with a frown after he was silent for a few seconds.

“You haven’t fucked anyone for almost a month?” The amusement in his expression and tone made your frown deepen.

“Well I didn’t think you were gonna take a whole fucking month before seeing me again.” You snapped, then quickly bit your lip to silence yourself. You weren’t worried about him getting mad from you talking like this, you were worried this would be another thing he’d tease you about. His smirk made you realize that that was exactly what he was going to do.

“You poor thing,” He cooed, slowly moving his hips again, and you held your breath as you anxiously waited for the rest, “you get raped one time and now you’re ruined for any other man? I’m not sure whether I should feel proud or guilty.” He smirked and you swallowed hard, throat bobbing against his hand.

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” You said quietly, making him tilt his head questioningly as his smirk remained.

“Why not? It’s what happened.” Before you could speak he continued, “And if you say it’s not, I hate to break it to you, princess, but you definitely should see a shrink.”

“I don’t fucking have Stockholm syndrome.” You spat, way too defensive to seem like what you said was true.

“Right… You were just kidnapped and raped and you wanted to see me again because…?” You looked away from him with a scowl.

You wanted to see him again because, as much as you hate to admit it, he was the best fuck of your life. He truly did ruin you for anyone else. You wanted to see him again because despite his hard exterior, he was still somewhat gentle with you. You wanted to see him again because you were curious about the man under the mask. And while you knew that would almost definitely never happen… you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it. You have a pretty good picture of his face and cock, but you want to see the rest of him- all of him. You want to know what he’s like when he’s not wearing the mask. Would he still be mean and rough? Or would he be kind and gentle. Maybe he would only be like that with you. That was a thought that made you blush every time.

In the fantasy that you’ve made up in your mind, he would do anything to protect you, he would kill for you, and you craved being the one thing in this world that he doesn’t hate.

You turned your head to meet his eyes again, this time with a fire in your own.

“I wanted to see you again because despite the fact that you’re a grade A asshole, you’re a somewhat decent fuck.” This is your first time ever really being bratty with him. And while you’re scared of the outcome, you’re also really fucking excited. “And if that’s really all you did, then why did you want to see me again?” You raised your brows and he stared at you with a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and what you were praying was fondness. But you probably just made that up.

“Maybe I’m a repeat offender.” He shrugged and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“No.”

“No?” He challenged, but you were more than ready to meet him.

“No. It’s actually called Lima syndrome. Do you know what that is?” You asked, patronizing him. When his gaze hardened and his jaw clenched, you continued. “It’s when an abductor develops sympathy for their captive. Now I’m no expert on sympathy but I’d say not wanting to kill them and saving them while you were stalking them are pretty good examples.” You smirked. He stared at you for a beat as his thrusts slowed to a stop again and you did your best to resist shrinking under his gaze.

“I don’t want to kill you because one, I prefer my fuck toys warm and two, I’m not a necrophiliac.” He said lowly, his words slowly making their way to the knot of arousal building in your stomach.

“And why did you save me?” You asked through a breath. You were both scared and excited for his answer. You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, but you were pretty sure you’re right about this. His gaze flicked between your eyes as you waited anxiously.

“Contrary to popular belief, sweetheart, I don’t just murder people.” You raised your brows and his expression remained hard. “You seem to be under the impression that I care about your well being. Just because you’re more useful to me alive than dead, doesn’t mean-“

“Doesn’t mean what? You won’t hurt me?” You scoffed. “Like you said before, I’m sure there isn’t anything you’ll do to me that I won’t beg you for first.” You said smugly. He stared at you for a moment, then his lips curled up into a smirk.

“Let’s find out then.”

Despite the fact that you stiffened when he grabbed a knife from his pants, you still clenched around him, making his breath hitch. He immediately brought the knife down, trailing the tip over your stomach and up to your chest then back down to do it all over again.

“What should I carve into your pretty skin, baby?” You let out a shaky breath as you embarrassingly clenched around him, again. “Slut? Whore? Princess?” You just stared at him with wide eyes, feeling yourself start to tremble.

“Maybe I’ll carve my name, keep adding letters until you finally guess correctly.” Your brows furrowed as your chest started heaving. “Which one?” He asked, adding a little more pressure on the knife so that it was leaving a trail of pink behind it.

“If you can’t choose, I’ll do all of them.” He smirked and you panicked and blurted, “Your name!” You don’t even know how many letters it is... You could’ve easily picked “slut” but subconsciously you wanted to know more about him. He chuckled lowly, making you blush.

What if he was bluffing? Or worse, what if he lies? After all, his secret identity is secret for a reason. He has no reason to trust you.

“Alright, princess. Five letters. Let’s hope you’re smart enough to figure it out early.” He smirked, then moved his gaze to your stomach. Even though this felt like some kind of foreplay, he was still inside of you. Not moving, just sitting there. But to be honest you were happy about that because the thought of being empty right now feels excruciating. “Ready?” He glanced at you and you nodded nervously. You’ve dabbled in this kink before, but only once has your partner ever actually drawn blood. And even then, it was just a heart, not an entire name.

The stinging in your stomach pulled you out of your thoughts with a wince. You didn’t want to look… but you couldn’t help it. Letting out a shaky breath, you watched as he gently moved the blade down, then up, making an uneven V.

“J.” You said through a breath as he placed a horizontal line over the top. “Jordan?” He brought his attention back to your stomach and you let out a small whimper. You watched as he drew a vertical line down, and then another, making an inverted V. When you squirmed under him, his free hand grabbed your hip and pushed you into the bed, making you release a low moan. It hurt, obviously, but kind of in the same way that it hurt when he stretched you open- it stings and burns but still somehow feels so fucking good.

“If you keep squeezing my cock like that I’m gonna mess up.” He gruffed and your eyes snapped up to his. He was still looking at the task at hand, but you kept staring at him. His face is so… complex. It’s sharp and masculine, but also somehow still pretty. Looking at his eyes again, you blushed when you saw he was already staring at you.

“Sorry.” You said with a sheepish smile, then looked down at your stomach. The upside down V turned out to be an A. “Jackson?” Right? He seems like he could be a Jackson… maybe. You groaned when he moved to continue. You watched this time, hoping to get more time to come up with names after guessing the letter.

“Almost halfway done, princess.” He said, making a small inverted V followed by a long diagonal- S. While you were doing your best to think as hard as possible, the knife and his cock, and just everything about this situation, were making it so hard for you to concentrate.

As he finished, you breathed out the word “Jasper” and whined when he immediately continued. You did your best to ignore the pain in your stomach and the ache in your cunt and watched as he carved a jagged O.

“Jason! It’s Jason!” Despite the fact that this was a statement, it still sounded like a question when you said it. You stared up at him with wide eyes, anxiously awaiting his response. When his lips curled up into a small smirk you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Good job, princess. But we can’t leave it incomplete… it won’t look right.” The way he said it was as if he truly had no choice in whether or not he continued, and even though you knew that wasn’t the case, the manipulative tone was not completely registering in your already floaty brain.

“Okay.” You said, waiting for him to carve the last letter into your burning skin. You didn’t agree because it would be incomplete, but rather because even though the cuts weren’t deep enough to scar, you couldn’t help but want his name on your body- his whole name. So you watched him drag the knife over your skin- up, down, up. He brought the knife up to his mouth and licked the small amount of blood off with an exaggerated moan. He picked up a drop of blood falling down your side and brought that up to his mouth too.

“You look so fucking pretty, makes me want to keep marking you.” Even though the moan in his voice as well as his words made you want that too… you wanted him to fuck you more.

“…Later?”

“Oh? Did you have something in mind for right now?” He smirked and you nodded. “What’s that?”

“Fuck me? Please?” You whined, getting embarrassed.

“I tell you my name and that’s all I get?” He scoffed and you deflated at his disdain.

“Please fuck me, Jason.” You said through a whimper, canting your hips up to emphasize your words. He cursed under his breath and put the knife away. Grabbing your hips, he sat up on his knees, pulling your lower body up with him. You winced at the skin of your stomach stretching and moving but that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan when he started pounding your hole. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, just started fucking you with almost feral thrusts.

“Fuck- Jason!” You cried out, scrambling for purchase on the sheets below you.

“Don’t stop saying my name, princess.” He said breathlessly, never wavering in his pace. If anything, he sped up and fucked your harder.

With your lower body raised like this, you can see his name perfectly. As a drop of blood started rolling up your stomach, you stopped it with your finger then sucked it into your mouth, looking up at him through your lashes. He cursed quietly, then smiled and shook his head in what seemed like amused admiration.

“You know, princess… when this heals, it’s not going to leave a scar.” You frowned at the reminder, even though your future self that wouldn’t have a cock inside her would scold you for letting him do that in the first place. “But that’s okay, it means I can just keep making you bleed everytime my cock is in this tight little cunt.” You let out a choked sob, feeling said cunt aching more and more.

“Fuck, Jason, can I please touch myself?” You whimpered, grabbing the sheets so hard you thought they might rip, just to hold yourself back from touching without his permission. “Please?”

“Go ahead, baby. Make yourself clench down on my cock.” Your hand immediately moved down to start rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Fuck- just like that.” He groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

“A-are you going to let me come this time?” You stammered. Each time his hips smacked yours, it punched a breath out of you, making it hard to speak coherently.

“I dunno… you think you deserve it?”

“Please, I- I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh? And how’s you coming gonna make me feel good?” You had no idea how he was able to speak so well even with his heavy breathing. Maybe that’s just a side effect of being a vigilante.

“When I come, I-“ You cut off with a choked gasp at a particularly deep thrust but forced yourself to continue, “it gets really tight.” You said through a breath, trying to force your eyes open to keep looking at him.

“Is that so?” He asked, amused, but you answered with a nod anyway. “Alright, princess, you can come when I say. But if you’re lying, you’re not coming again anytime I fuck you, do you understand?” Despite the fact that you know your body, you couldn’t help but feel your confidence waver.

“I understand.” You whispered, rubbing your clit faster. He focused all of his energy into fucking you now. The punishing pace, his bruising grip on your hips, the fading sting on your stomach, the pressure on your clit- all of it was barreling you toward your orgasm.

“God- I don’t know where I want to come more, in your cunt or on my name.” He said, through a near pornographic moan. You mewled and removed your hand from your clit, feeling too close to the edge without knowing when he’ll give you permission.

“Jason.” You whimpered, rubbing fast circles again, edging yourself.

“Go ahead, princess. Come on my cock, make me feel good.” He rasped and you all but sobbed in relief.

Now focusing on your impending orgasm, you moved your gaze from his name, to his cock, that was covered in your arousal, pushing in and out of you, to his face. His brows were furrowed, mouth open in a silent moan, and pupils blown so wide, there was barely any color visible. You squeezed your eyes shut and cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you. It felt awkward, not being able to arch your back or buck your hips like you normally would, but you quickly forgot about that as he kept pounding you. Distantly, you heard his low moans as his thrusts grew more erratic.

When your orgasm faded, his thrusts quickly grew painful as you became overstimulated. You whined and tried to push away from his but his grip on your hips got impossibly tighter as he started pulling your body to meet his thrusts.

“Don’t fucking try to pull away. You wanted this so fucking take it.” He growled and you let out a choked sob, this time because his words were starting a new knot of arousal in your stomach. He roughly fucked into you until finally he pulled your hips flush with his, letting out a low groan. He was so fucking deep- deeper than you’ve ever felt him and while it kind of hurt, the feeling of hot come filling you up made it fell better. You watched as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, still bucking into your warmth, trying to get even deeper. As his orgasm faded, he slowly tilted his head back down, eyes half lidded and lips slightly parted as his chest heaved.

He sat back of his heels, keeping his cock inside of you as he gently laid you back down. You winced again as your stomach moved, but this time it hurt a lot more without something to distract from it. He stared down at it, brushing his thumb below the jagged letters.

“Is your name actually Jason?” You asked quietly, growing more and more tired. His eyes moved to yours and he stared at your for a moment before looking back down at his name.

“Yeah.”

You wanted to tell him that only an abductor who sympathized with their captor, would tell them their name. But you didn’t want to start anything. This moment right now felt calm, peaceful… safe. Despite the fact that he carved his name into your stomach, you’ve never felt safer than you do right now.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jason.” You said softly and he looked up at you again, his face unreadable. You gave him a small smile and to your suprise, he returned it.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood #part 2 lol

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khuzena · 1 year

Text

My biggest 'what if'

Isagi, sae, rin, x g/n!reader (tried to make it g/n!reader?? but enjoy)

Warning: a little fluff, hurt little to no comfort, angst, break ups, cheating, (no happy ending typa beat)

Summary: their biggest what ifs from you and tje blue lock boys' relationship

Note: hello! I'm starting to get motivation to write again and i hope this fic is good enough

Itoshi Sae:

"What if he treated you better?"

His biggest 'what if' is what if he put more effort in your relationship.

He took your love for granted and now that it's gone he finds himself longing for it.

Every night he weeps in silence that even the birds cannot hear him, only the gods above listen to his cries. Begging for you to come back but he could never say it out loud. Not when his ego was as big as the world itself.

Sae tried so hard to keep the relationship.

But trying hard to keep a relationship wasn't just delivering fancy gifts on your doorstep or messaging you once a week.

Trying hard to keep a relationship wasn't just asking you how was your day and proceeding to ignore you while you frantically waited for his response.

He was trying.

But the hickey from a forgotten one night stand says otherwise.

—-

You stared at him with blank eyes, as empty as a black hole eating away every feeling that was once boiling in your heart.

The pain was too much to bear.

"Sae, why the fuck did you do that?", you whimpered defeatly, you no longer had the energy to fight him about this.

Not when you screamed from the top of your lungs a hundred times ago.

At this point you can't even expect much. Cancelled dates left and right, his stupid excuses and worst of all his shitty promises.

Sae promised to love you so, like how Gomez loves Morticia. Though you both were just another pathetic Blair and Chuck.

He sucked in his breath and stared right back at you, though all you could see is the same emptiness you feel.

The relationship so damaged you both have no hope for it.

But it's alright.

It's alright.

It's not.

He prefered to spend his time with other women though he usually denies, this time he didn't.

"I don't want to waste my time on you, so what?"

The air grew more tense and you were at your breaking point. Realizing that he both wasted your time and your effort for the relationship. You excused his behavior multiple times but now he's said it himself.

Your mouth was left agape from what he said, the hurt still stinging.

He tried to compose himself in the heat of the moment, he knew he was wrong and he accepted it.

"Then leave." He said coldly.

Those eyes, those fucking eyes.

He stared at you with those goddamn eyes, you remember that kind of glare. The glare he'd give when he's pissed to the core; when he's provoked.

But why is he mad? Didn't he want this?

A single tear trickled down your cheek, the tear carrying the weight of a heartbreak that weighed thousands.

Though you didn't falter.

Carrying your bags and a slam on his door without a single word escaping your lips was enough.

But it's alright.

It's alright.

It finally is.

Meanwhile the weight of you leaving hit hard on sae like a thousand bricks.

He asked himself for one more time, why didn't he beg you to stay?

Oh how he badly wanted to get on his knees and confess his sins begging for forgiveness. But his ego was too big, he was too ashamed to beg you to stay.

So he stares at the moon you told him you loved.

The moon always stayed despite the wounds from the meteorites scraping its surface.

You must've been the moon, he thought. But he didn't just scrape your heart, oh no. He burnt it all down until there was no love and sanity left.

Sae lets his mind wander off again, but this time it's all about you.

Why you weren't his future but just another 'what if'

—----

Isagi Yoichi

"What if he prioritized you more?"

He wonders often why he didn't prioritize you more.

Sure, football was always running rampant in his mind but he knew he could've spent time with you.

He was sweet, sweeter than the smell of fresh roses.

He wants you so much, too much he's starting to think his love for you might distract him.

He wants to think he still has a chance. So he doesn't hesitate to spoil with his hard-earned riches.

Yet, money doesn't save a relationship. He wants to think it does.

He's a smart one, always one step ahead so he's always known for a long time now this relationship won't last; but he wants to think it'll last.

Isagi had always loved you and it didn't waver, not once.

But he was terrible at showing that he did.

He loves you, he assures you he does.

But he'll always choose his career over you and he won't hesitate to push you out of his life just so he could still play football.

—----------

You two barely spent time with each other due to him pursuing his football career.

Every once in a while the lack of quality time would get to you.

Both itching to just see each other again, just to hold each other in your arms even for just a minute.

For now you two are lying in each other's arms. Surprising, considering your schedules that you both could never sync.

Though today's cuddling session was different. It wasn't soothing, more nerve-wracking.

The man in your arms was breathing erratically. Isagi knows this is the last time you'll hold him like this.

His grip on you was tight, not wanting to let you go. But you were barely holding on anymore.

Why should you try to keep this relationship when you can't even see each other for months? Why must you keep trying for something like this?

You two tried so hard to keep the relationship together but it never worked.

It crumbles every time, no matter how hard you put the pieces together like glass but it turns into dust every ticking of the clock.

Isagi could feel every tremble from your fragile body, the strength to fight for your relationship chipped away from the stress and bickering from 3 hours ago.

You both made an agreement that you would both no longer see each other anymore. That this would be the last time it was 'you and yoichi'

He's made it clear you were a distraction from his career. So why is he holding you so tight right now? Why is he holding you like you're fragile that you might slip away if he ever even let go of you for a second?

He's left you to pick up the pieces of your broken relationship but now he finds himself trying to stitch it all up on his own.

Isagi knows that tomorrow will be another bleak day.

Except this time he's longing for something he cast aside for the first time.

Isagi Yoichi is a man who's great at reading the field, probably at reading people too. Though this entire situation isn't something he can decipher like a game of football. It's a puzzle but each piece makes him lose progress.

Even in the cold and dark room where not even a speck of light could escape, he can still feel your gaze lingering on him but he's too ashamed to say anything.

He wants to say 'I love you' one last time, but he just cant.

No words needed to be said in this embrace, but one question stayed on his mind before he drifted to sleep.

What if he prioritized you as much as football?

Maybe then this embrace could last a lifetime and not a single night.

—------

Itoshi Rin

"What if he really loved you"

He knew this relationship was just a mistake.

He wanted to try something new.

Sometime after breaking up with you he starts thinking more about you.

Images of you clouding his thoughts every second, every minute and for god knows how long.

His love for you was temporary but the thoughts of you were permanent.

Sure, he was toxic and just wanted to try this whole relationship thing but the more he thinks about you all he feels is regret.

He thinks it's strange.

He's never even loved you properly but why does he feel like falling in love all over again?

Why does he feel like he's starting to feel butterflies in his stomach again yet he knows it only flickers for a second?

He was going insane. He doesn't love you, at least he thinks he does.

Not when he stays up all night stalking your wondering if you found someone new and better for you.

Though the relationship has been long dead so there's no point in starting again from day one.

—--

Rin found himself scrolling through images of you and him when you were still together right after a secured win in a football match.

His teammates were confused about why he's been zoning out lately.

As he sat straight on the bench, he felt a small tap on his shoulder.

A voice so loud it could wake up king Tutankhamun from the grave rang in his ears, "Yo Rin you good?", Bachira asked with a confused look while isagi and kunigami tail after him.

Rin scoffed, "None of your goddamn business."

The male stood up from his seat, grabbed the towel right next to him and walked off to the changing room.

'how strange' the three thought but were interrupted by a large crowd of interviewers bombarding them with questions.

Meanwhile rin stayed back at the changing room, still looking for that spark he felt when he first met you while still scrolling through old photos of you.

Again.

And again.

Again.

How lukewarm.

After he got back in the stadium his eyes darted towards you in the benches, cheering for another player.

There he felt that spark again in his heart that was once lost.

The irritated expression that was plastered on his face a while ago now softened.

The crowd might think he finally relaxed yet his heart was pounding so loudly, his eyes trying to avoid yours but he can't help but stare; he doesn't mind getting lost in those pretty eyes again.

But he knows you two are like parallel lines, always seeing each other from a distance yet your fates will never intersect. And if it did, it would burn both your souls from the draining thing you call a 'relationship'

Oh how he watched your eyes glimmer as the next round started, the same eyes that stared lovingly into him a long time ago.

If only he really loved you, maybe then he'd feel that spark in his heart again when he stared into your eyes.

Note: hope y'all enjoyed! This was sitting in my draft for a month and I don't have time to write anymore cos yk school ://// not proof read cos i need to sleep so sorry ♡

#blue lock ansgt #blue lock x reader #blue lock fanfic #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi rin x reader #isagi x reader #isagi angst #what have i done #bllk x reader #bllk angst

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callmelola111 · 11 months

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guilty conscience ☆ part four

← part 1 , part 2 , part 3 ⭑ part 5 →

synopsis: it’s your first year at college and you’re 1,500 miles away from home. you’d feel completely alone if it wasn't for your attractive roommate ellie. will this attraction complicate the already uncharted territory? or will she be the answer to all your problems?

|✯| pairing & wc: college!ellie williams x roommate!reader. wc: 3.2k

|✯| cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), fem reader, SMUT (18+ ONLY), modern au!ellie, HEAVY ANGST, frequent swearing, sexual tension, cat lol, fingering (r receiving), oral (r recieving), kinda nipple play, dom!ellie, sub!reader, public-ish sex, ellie is a cheater cheater pumpkin eater (i think thats it but lmk if i missed anything)

a/n: honestly was getting fed up with myself writing this part. like goddamn bitch can we get a happy ending already? so much angst and drama from ellie that you might just wanna beat her tf up. it gets so slutty though and i love it. i hope this is feeds the ache for y'all, lmk cause this is my first attempt at smut!! anyways, thanks 4 the support and much love from me to you <;3

After that special night with Ellie, you realized there was no more ignoring the situation at hand. She left you feeling empty just as quick as she had made you feel full. And you cared so much for her, despite the fact. No matter how much you wanted to stand your ground, your mind always got stuck on the possibilities. The possibility that Ellie was feeling everything you were… The possibility that there was a happy ending in sight… The possibility that Cat meant nothing.

With all these feelings circling your mind, you felt too biased to make the right decision when it came to her. You decided it was time to tell Dina. You quickly picked up your phone and gave her a call, inviting her out to coffee. Thankfully Dina offered to drive, as you were still stranded at Ellie’s bandmates place. 10 minutes later, she was out front honking.

Dina greeted you with a squeal, “Hiii love!! I missed you!”

Before you could reciprocate her greeting she spoke again, “Wait who’s house is this? How was last night? Oh my god Y/n, did you hook up with someone?? Pleaseee tell me!!” Dina’s thoughts were going 100 mph trying to guess the context of this little rendezvous.

“That’s why I asked you to coffee. Trust me, I’m going to explain everything.” Your mysterious answer left Dina even more intrigued. The both of you arrived at the coffee shop, ordered your drinks, and took a seat at a little table in the corner.

“Soooo… TELL ME ALREADY,” Dina exclaimed impatiently as you fidgeted in your seat not even sure where to start. You stared through the shop window at nothing in particular as you mulled over the timeline of Ellie and you. Dina could see the cogs in your brain turning and knew this conversation was going to be about more than a silly little one night stand. You finally spoke 3 words, “it’s about Ellie.”

“Ellie? God I should’ve known, I’m literally your best friend!!”

“It's fine D, I’ve been pretty radio silent about my love life on purpose. See, it’s much more complicated. Like a gut wrenching, sick and twisted, WLW heartbreak kind of complicated. How long can you stay and talk?”

“I’m all yours babe, give me every last detail. I'm serious,” Dina urged. So, you did. The debrief took a total of 3 hours and 2 iced coffees to get through. It felt so good getting everything off your chest.

Dina gave you just the right advice too, “Communication is key.” You knew it was stupid but talking about it upfront was the last thing you had thought to do. It seemed too scary to face Ellie like that, but you knew it was the right choice. Sure it was hard dealing with these feelings and you wanted answers, but you also lived with this girl. You owed it to yourself and to her to figure out this bullshit. You didn’t want to be in a constant state of tension and resentment every time the two of you had to be around each other (which was all the time).

After a morning well spent, you and Dina said your goodbyes and she dropped you back off at your dorm. You walked through the front doors and swiped your student ID to access the elevator. You leaned against the cold, metal walls as you brainstormed how to approach Ellie. You had a good idea of what to say up until you were opening the door and coming face to face with her. She made you forget everything. But, despite your blank mind, you were determined.

“Ellie, we need to talk, seriously.” You tried to assert yourself, but your breaths were shaky from nerves. Ellie looked up from her desk nonchalantly and gave you a blank stare like she had no idea what you were talking about. This really pissed you off.

“Don’t give me that fucking look Ellie, you know exactly what I’m talking about. How could you just leave me like that?”

“Hey relax, it’s not like that.” she stood up and answered calmly, which made you want to slap her even more. Ellie could put on a game face better than she could ever be vulnerable. No matter the damage her lack of honesty caused.

“It’s not like that? Be real with yourself for one fucking second Ellie.”

“Fuck you bro, I don’t need this shit.” she retaliated, not meaning a word she spat out.

“FUCK YOU!” you shouted, moving into her space. Instead of moving back, Ellie stayed right there with you, standing her ground. You felt the heat of her body against yours and an erotic sensation growing between your legs. Your eyes began to glaze over with tears of desperation, she had this unexplained power over you.

“Ellie, I- I can’t keep doing this with you.”

“Can’t keep doing what?” she asked. It’s like Ellie needed you to admit it first before she could even acknowledge it on her own. She longed to hear your passionate confessions and anguished pleas.

“I can’t keep beating around the bush with you. I like you Ellie and it’s driving me fucking crazy because you act like you could care less. You taunt me with your stupid sexy charm and stupid flirty touch just to run right back to Cat. But right here, right now, you can’t deny the tension between us. I need you Ellie.” Tears began to stream down your face and you wiped them away with haste. A beat of loud silence echoed through the room before Ellie finally answered.

“I don’t mean to tease, but there’s just so much at stake when it comes to me and you. Can't you see? I know I’m a piece of shit. I mean, here I am with a perfectly fine girlfriend, yet inches away from my roommate, hardly able to resist her touch.”

“Then don't Ellie. Forget about everyone and please just kiss me.” You were practically begging, it was so pitiful. Ellie placed a hand to your shoulder and shoved you against the wall.

“God Y/n just STOP IT!”

You melted under her agonizing touch, “W-why not me?” You stuttered and took in her hot breaths that hit your face as she panted through her frustration. It wasn’t much longer till the two of you could no longer restrain.

Ellie stared at her dirty converse to avoid your pleading eyes, “I just can’t, I can’t cheat. I'm not a cheater.” She was shaking her head profusely as if to rid her mind of the lustful thoughts that consumed her. She wanted you so bad it hurt. You took her face in your hands and lifted her gaze to yours in a last attempt.

“Ellie-,” you gasped, as the aching became unbearable. You’d surrender to her touch right now if she only asked. As Ellie looked back at you, she wished Cat didn’t exist, you were all she ever wanted and you were right there. She just had to say the words and you’d be hers.

Ellie’s head fell into the crook of your neck in desperation. Her hands moved up and down your clothed body searching for some sort of release.

“Ellie please, I need you.” you whimpered into her ear. The vibrations sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine and just like that she snapped. All her morals disappeared as she found your wrist and grasped it firmly, leading your hand to the waistband of your pants.

She whispered back, “show me.” With her permission your hand darted down to the ache. You slid your fingers through the mess Ellie invoked with just her words before stopping on the big ball of nerves that begged to be touched.

Before you could ease the yearning down below, Ellie interrupts, “I said show me.” A smirk grew upon her face as she watched you discern the meaning of her risky comment. You retrieved your fingers in obedience to Ellie and were prepared to do whatever else she asked.

Immediately, Ellie took your sticky fingers and brought them to her plump lips. Slowly she planted kisses from the tips of your digits down to your knuckles. It felt like a dream. Of course, Ellie knew she should stop, but when her freckled nose caught the sweet smell of your juices she dreamed of tasting them too.

“Put your hands back in your pants.” she demanded with agency. Back inside they went, fingers quick to locate your empty hole. You couldn’t take it, your middle finger gently slid in and a breath escaped your open mouth. You shut your eyes and an in-and-out rhythm ensued. Ellie grew wet herself as she watched you writhe with pleasure. She couldn’t help but tell you.

“I love watching you touch yourself like that.” Her comment evoked a strained moan from your lips as you imagined her fingers inside instead of your own. Ellie cupped her cunt, trying to fight her infidelity but failing miserably.

“Can I see your fingers again please? I- I wanna taste it.”

“Need me that bad?” you teased, like you hadn’t been dreaming of this moment for ages. But Ellie had no time for games and took matters into her own hands. She captured your fingers herself. Her tongue flattened to the length of them before her mouth completely closed in on the treat. She sucked with vigor until your flavor dissipated.

“Tastes so good” she hummed, eyes blown out with pleasure.

“How about you really taste it?” you taunted. The twisted and erotic nature of the interaction left you in a trance.

“You know I can’t Y/n. It- It would be wrong.” Ellie spoke as if sucking your roommates slick right off her fingers wasn’t just as much of a betrayal as any sexual act. At this point morals felt so out of the question but your words from nights before continued to repeat in her head.

“Me? Mess it up for you? Don’t worry Ellie, you can do that all on your own, believe me.”

She was at odds with herself, not knowing whether to dive in head first or run away while she could.

“Please Ellie, I need you inside me.” you begged. She brushed the back of her hand down your face apologetically and planted a kiss on your forehead.

A single tear fell as she said, “I just can’t do this. I have to go,” and turned towards the door. Ellie disappeared out of the room and you sunk to the floor, defeated once more. I guess old habits really do die hard.

After Ellie left, she didn’t show back up to your dorm for the next 3 days. At first you were pissed off and hurt, but the longer she was gone, the more that bitterness turned into worry. She became the only thing on your mind. You had tried calling and texting but to no avail. Out of desperation, you even decided to ask Cat in class. Dina supervised from afar as you confronted her.

“Cat, I know you don’t like me, but can I please just ask you something,” you said with hesitance.

“Great observation! You’re right, I don’t like you. Now, what do you want?” she snapped.

“It’s about Ellie, I haven't seen her in 3 days and I’m really worried. Do you know where she is?” Cat paused to think before she gave you an answer.

“She’s been staying at my place. Is there a problem? I mean, I am her girlfriend,” she scoffed. Truthfully, Cat hadn’t seen Ellie for the past 3 days either but God forbid she let you find that out. She didn’t want you thinking you had any sort of chance with her girlfriend now that she seemed to be getting iced out too.

Of course, her plan worked just how she wanted and you were just about ready to give up on Ellie. You walked back to your dorm dragging your feet hopelessly. When you arrived you were greeted by none other than the girl who’d been fueling your worry.

“Ellie? What the fuck. What are you doing here?”

“I mean, I live here right?” she answered while rummaging through her things. Here she goes again, pissing you off like usual.

“I thought you did too until you went awol for 3 whole days without saying a thing. If you wanna stay with Cat that bad just tell me. I don’t need you sparing my feelings. You’ve already done enough.” Your anger spoke for you and Ellie was baffled.

“Cat? What makes you say that? I’ve been at my parents this whole time.”

You snapped, “Don't lie to me Ellie, I know you were at her place. If you love Cat so much, just be with her and leave me the fuck alone.” Ellie then grabbed her guitar and slinged on a backpack.

“Fine, I will leave you alone. I have a show to be at anyways.” And just like that, gone again.

You replayed the past hour in your head and considered the fact that maybe Ellie was telling the truth. Cat was never known to be a saint, so her lying all of the sudden seemed likely. This time, instead of waiting for Ellie to come back around, you decided to chase after her.

You quickly threw on a revenge outfit and put on some mascara. You stared in the mirror at your black mini skirt and tight crop top. You couldn’t deny it, you looked fucking hot. The peak in confidence pushed you right out the door and to the venue of Ellie’s show.

When you arrived her band was already on stage playing. You realized this was your first time ever hearing them together and decided to really soak it in. Ellie looked so happy doing what she loved despite all the drama happening off stage. She was even better than you thought. You watched as she plucked the strings and bobbed her head along with the beat. You hated how much it turned you on. The tattoo you loved so much was on full display and her arm muscles flexed with each chord. She’d occasionally bite her bottom lip in concentration and it drove you wild. Her set finally finished and you were more than pleased, mentally and physically. Ellie got off stage and you quickly ran after, shouting her name.

“Hey can we talk please? I wanna say sorry.” you explained.

“Fine, come with me to the bathroom, it’s quieter there.” She grabbed your hand and led you. You pushed yourself up to sit on the marble counters that housed the sinks. Ellie looked you up and down, waiting for you to speak. She took note of how good you looked before frantically spewing an apology.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of lying. I was stupid and asked Cat if she had seen you recently. Of course she told me you’d been with her and I blindly believed.”

She seemed to be listening so you continued your ranting, “I really hate to fight Els. I miss having fun with you. I wanna move on from everything and just be happy. Together, me and you.” You looked up to flash her some puppy dog eyes when you noticed her attention being diverted.

No matter how hard Ellie wanted to pay attention to what you had to say, she couldn’t help but stare up your skirt. Your positioning on the counter gave her the perfect sneak peek of the space between your legs. Once you had caught on to her pervy behavior Ellie fumbled to save face.

“Shit sorry um, I was just, uh, you have cute panties.” She then flashed you a sideways smile trying to make up for that dumpster fire of a “save”.

“You don’t have to apologize, Els.” A cocky look spread across your face and Ellie recognized what game you were playing.

“Well then I’d just like to say, the wet spot on them is even cuter.” Your face turned hot as you registered the fact that the same girl who made you soak through your panties was about to be the one to take them off.

Ellie slotted herself between your knees as you sat on the counter. Shock turned to hunger in a matter of seconds as you practically consumed each other. Her mouth engulfed yours as if there was no need for air. You desperately clung to her body, using your legs to pull in closer. Ellie grabbed at your chest as she slipped her wet tongue into your desperate kiss. You gasped into her mouth when she found your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. She twisted them with power before removing your shirt completely. Ellie separated from your mouth for just a split second to admire the beauty before her.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” she gushed and then used both hands to push your legs apart. Your cunt was on full display through the soaked fabric, your skirt bunched up around your hips. Ellie used her calloused fingers to trace the delicate folds peeking from the cloth and you jolted as she brushed past your sensitive spot. She hooked into your panties to scootch the fabric to the side before you suddenly interrupted.

“Ellieeee, we’re in a public bathroom.” She pouted at you with desperation. Ellie needed you now. Out of pure impulse, she grabbed you by the hips, hands cupping your ass, and stumbled with you into the big stall.

“Take them off” she demanded. You seductively slipped the pink, lace thong you were wearing down to your ankles. The cold air alone on your exposed folds was enough to send a sensation through your body. Ellie retrieved your littered painties and shoved them into her pocket for “safe keeping”. She remained on her knees in the tight bathroom stall and began planting kisses on your inner thighs. These kisses turned into small bites as the shared arousal became overwhelming to your senses.

Ellie eventually found her way to right where you wanted her. Her fingers spread you apart taking mental note of each delicate fold. You gasped in pleasure, as if to urge her to continue. The wet sensation of her tongue finally met your aching clit and a sultry moan escaped your lips. Your opening clenched at the contact as she coached you through the bliss that was her mouth.

“I know it feels good but you gotta be quiet for me baby. Just breathe.” You had barely gotten the hang of keeping calm before her fingers dove in to give you twice as much satisfaction.

You gripped Ellie’s forearm for support as she twisted in and out of your throbbing cunt. She was determined to make you feel good. She needed to make up for her bad behavior.

With that thought in mind, she dove back in with her mouth followed by the curling of her fingers inside you. You couldn’t help but screech and Ellie quickly shot a hand up to cover your mouth. So goddamn noisy. As she continued, you inched closer and closer to the precipice of an orgasm.

The bathroom brimmed with the wet sounds of Ellie’s tongue lapping you up, her fingers assaulting your hole, and the moans she did her best to muffle. But, suddenly, those weren’t the only sounds that filled the room.

“Ellie? Baby, is that you?”

← masterlist ⭑ part 5 →

taglist ☆...

@machetegirl109 @gold-dustwomxn @menatoia @ximtiredx @robinismywifee @elliepricefield @alexpritch @jokirxmae

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 month

Text

Love me back to life - Part 1

A/N: We all knew this was coming! Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story :))

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ angst but a little hurt comfort as well. Tony’s kind of an asshole in this one, the relationship isn’t exactly healthy.

Word count: 1.9k

Tony Stark Masterlist

He was late.

Again.

Tony had missed dinner for the fifth time in a row now, not that you were counting. It had been over fifteen hours since you last saw the man, not that you were counting. And it had been over two weeks since you had had sex with him, but not that you were counting.

Tony Stark - the man, the myth, the legend. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The best if not most popular Avenger in the entire world. A man with more enemies than friends. Also, your fiance. But you were unsure about the last bit.

He had proposed six months ago in a room full of disquisitive journalists that went ballistic at the announcement. A glittery rock that easily cost more than your apartment sat on your finger, for the world to see you were his.

Of course, that didn’t stop dumb, heavy-chested women to throw themselves at him at social events. You were privy to it all, because you had faith in him that he didn’t have eyes for anybody else. At least you knew that in the past. Now though, you weren’t so sure. It had become somewhat of a ritual for the two of you to enter a party hand in hand and go your separate ways.

He would be the center of attention, obviously, enjoying every bit of the adulation he got while you would find a deserted corner for yourself and your beloved glass of wine. By the time the night ended, or rather morning, Tony would be drunk off his ass or passed out with a random blonde drooling nearby. You would have Happy Hogan to help get him home, where he’d disappear in his lab once he regained consciousness.

Never in your life did you think you’d be jealous of a goddamn laboratory. The room who got to see Tony every single day, for the longest time, sometimes for days on end. His safe space that you once thought you were.

You did everything in your might to be there for him, it took effort and sacrifices on your part, but Tony was worth it all. He had managed to crawl his way into your heart and carve a space meant just for him, with no room for a third. You loved him with every last cell in your body, you did. You just wish he could see that, and even if he could see it, you wished he could care enough to let you know your efforts weren’t fruitless.

Yet another expensive bottle of wine sat in the ice bucket, the food you’d ordered from his favorite restaurant now cold, the velvety red dress you’d purchased just for him now hung on your frame unappreciated. Your mood plummeted with every glass of wine you finished, watching the hours tick by.

“FRIDAY, where is he?” you sighed, asking the AI who’d become your informant and best friend, as sad as that was.

In the lab, Miss. Do you want me to remind him again?

Her crisp voice sounded through the walls, almost sympathetic to your state.

“No. Don’t bother him. Wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway.” you murmured, swallowing the last bit of disappointment before getting up and heading to your room.

In the shower, you had let the tears flow and mix with the water that cascaded down your body, mind exhausted from the constant heartbreak. You knew that the only thing waiting for you outside that door was the giant, empty bed that had the last traces of Tony on them.

You had woken up with a stinging headache the next day, a futile glance to your left let you know Tony hadn’t made it to bed last night. It wasn’t uncommon. The occurrence had just multiplied over the last few months.

If you were keeping track, and you were, it had been over two days since Tony had slept, FRIDAY corroborated your suspicions as well.

You got dressed and headed downstairs to his lab, a blast of cold air sent chills down your spine as you entered.

There he was.

Surrounded by screens emitting a glowing blue light, mouth mumbling something incoherent to your non-science based mind, fingers trembling as he moved about the space, drawing your attention to the numerous empty cups of coffee that lay strewn. His eyes weren’t focusing on his task at hand, his stats reflected in red, flashing before you and letting you know his heart rate was way over normal.

“Tony.” you called softly, waiting for him to turn around and see you. You repeated yourself when he did not, placing a hand on his back only for him to jump and be startled at the touch.

“Hey! It’s only me.”

He seemed to relax instantly once he saw you, you however grew worried at his appearance. Eyes that looked beyond tired, bags under them concerning, his whole body language screamed exhaustion.

“FRIDAY, shut this thing off.” you mumbled, taking Tony by his hand to the couch that sat near the wall to your right. You were glad he didn’t protest, and borderline worried if he had the energy left to do so.

He didn’t.

You handed him water, watching him flinch at first probably realizing it wasn’t coffee before finishing it in one go. He grabbed your wrist before you could turn around again, looking up at you desperately, his brown orbs yelling a silent cry of help.

What broke your heart is that it wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Tony, you have to eat something.”

“No.”

He pulled you down next to him, planting his head in your lap while his arms wound around your middle, hugging you like his life depended on it, which it was. His breathing evened out as sleep finally took over almost instantly. You sighed, leaning back against the plush sofa, your fingers found their way in Tony’s hair, carding through them while your eyes brimmed with tears.

“I’d like to not die of this cold, FRI.” you closed your eyes, letting a few stray tears escape as everything around you returned to homeostasis, even if internally things were radically different.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, Y/N?”

Rhodey’s voice pulled your attention away from the paintings you were sifting through. A major chunk of Tony Stark’s fan following were kids, who sent him drawings of Iron Man swooping in to save the day. They always put a smile on your face, watching their faces light up with joy every time he waved at them, signed their drawings, picked one of the kids up for a pose.

“I’m pretty sure that question was meant for that crazy genius of a man signing autographs over there.”

You pointed to Tony at the far end of the restaurant you were at, clicking pictures with a bunch of teenagers who were gushing over him, signing their posters and entertaining them with his stories.

“And to answer your question, it’s been the same amount of time since he had a good night’s sleep.” you sighed, leaning back against your chair, sipping on your drink, avoiding Rhodey’s eyes.

It worried him greatly watching his two friends struggle, watching their health deteriorate in front of his eyes was heartbreaking.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“By all means, knock yourself out, Rhodes.” You chuckled, knowing fully well how that interaction was gonna go. You had been there and done that. It was falling on deaf ears.

There was a commotion which caught your eye. Tony Stark stumbled out of the restaurant clutching a hand over his heart.

Panic set in as you both followed him out, pushing people out of the way as they gathered with their phones out, capturing every moment.

You saw him step into his suit, the metal closing in around the man like a second skin before he knelt on the road in distress.

“Check the heart, Jarvis. Is it—is it the brain?” Tony took in a deep breath, trying everything in his might to find the source of his current state.

No sign of cardiac anomaly or unusual brain activity, Sir.

Jarvis spoke in his crystal clear voice, the suit display showing him stats that everything was normal.

“Okay, was I poisoned then?”

My diagnosis is that you’ve experienced a severe anxiety attack.

Tony’s eyes went wide in realization, he couldn’t believe it. His heart hammered against his ribcage, his breath still labored but he was okay. It was just an anxiety attack. It could be handled.

The chatter of people around bothered him and before you or Rhodey could utter a word, he took off, zooming off into the sky, homebound.

Rhodey wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze as you closed your eyes and sighed.

“That idiot needs an intervention and damn it, he’s gonna get one. Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll bring him back.”

Rhodey wasted no time in storming into his lab, catching the Avenger sitting still in the Ford Model B who looked mildly irked when his music was turned off.

“I’ve got to change the combination of the doors.” He muttered.

“Yeah, you probably should so nobody would find you dead in this lab.” Rhodey glared at the man who was avoiding his eyes, fiddling around with a screwdriver, his fingers trembling.

“Seriously Tony, what have you done to yourself?” He asked, his voice softer this time.

Tony’s eyes had sunken since the last time he saw him, his face distraught. All signs of PTSD visible in his demeanor.

“You need to accept the fact that you’re not okay, Tony. You need help. And sleep. And food—”

“And Y/N.”

Rhodey stopped mid-sentence at his admission, giving his shoulder a squeeze as Tony’s brown eyes glistened, finally looking up at his oldest friend.

“Oh I’m glad you still remember her.”

“She’ll save me. She always has.” Tony murmured mostly to himself, leaning back against the car seat.

“She’ll save you alright. But what about her? What about the relationship? There won’t be a relationship to save if you keep this up, Stark. That woman has done more for you than you could possibly imagine. You’re killing yourself and you’re taking her with you.”

Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach at Rhodey’s words. He was right.

You were there for the man since the world got to know he was Iron Man. After Obadiah Stane almost killed him, after Ivan Vanko, after he fell through the wormhole. It was you who kept him alive somehow. You had been there for him.

Always.

He, on the other hand, had always taken advantage of that. He had been a terrible boyfriend and a fiance, hell, he had been an awful human being these past few months.

It was almost surprising that you hadn’t left him yet. However, by the way your appearances in his lab had seemingly reduced, he was sure you were close to giving up. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. You didn’t deserve this treatment.

You deserved better.

Find Part 2 here :)

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark angst #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #tony stark fic #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #marvel fanfiction #rhodey #tony stark #the stark squad #iron man fanfiction #iron man x reader #iron man

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lovekz · 6 months

Text

what does he have that I don’t?

syn -> rindou is in shambles after you reject him.

warnings : heartbroken, rindou has low self esteem, angst, no happy ending, not proofread

“I’m sorry, I don’t like you like that.”

six words rindou dreaded hearing.

he stood before you, holding a basket of your favorite things and a stupid teddy bear.

just to hear those words leave your mouth.

embarrassment settles in before heartbreak does.

he’d gone all out, gone to all your favorite places and even got advice from ran.

to hear you say those words, and watch your face make that goddamn expression.

it looked like you were disgusted with him, just a little bit.

the basket hangs by his thigh, rindou unable to swallow.

“I-I have a boyfriend already.” you whispered to him, moving closer.

he stops you in his tracks when he tosses the basket into the sidewalk.

the bear is now dirty, and the sweets scatter all over the floor.

the candle shattered into pieces.

rindou walks away. the walk of shame, he thinks.

he can hear you calling after him, but he doesn’t turn around for you.

why didn’t he know you had someone?

why had everyone always been so much better than him each time?

he walked all the way home in silence, and even then he slouched on the doorstep.

he couldnt go inside.

ran would tease the absolute shit out of him.

“rindou! come out!” ran called, banging on his brother’s door.

when rindou made it in the house, he went straight to his room and didn’t come out until he had to pee or brush his teeth.

and shower, of course.

ran wasn’t sure if he was eating, or what had happened.

but he got a pretty good idea when he realized you had stopped coming over.

you rejected him, and you weren’t nice about it.

in his eyes at least.

rindou won’t respond, won’t even make a noise.

after his shower, he’d just sit in his bed and stare at his torn up room.

wondering why he couldn’t be better and what was wrong with him.

what made you give him that look?

was he ugly? did he have boogers?

or was it just his face that was so unattractive that you possibly lied?

ran had given up trying to reach rindou after a few days, letting mope in his room by himself.

but today, ran was actually leaving the house.

a few knocks on his door caught his attention, not like he cared though.

he won’t leave.

“I don’t know if you’re awake rin.. but I’m going to izana’s house. you’ll have the house to yourself. I’ll bring you back food if you want?” ran suggested.

when he didn’t receive a response, ran sighed and began walking down the steps.

a door opening caught his attention, making the older turn around.

rindou was standing there, dressed with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

him being in pajamas was besides the point.

“can I come with you?” rindou asked quietly.

if ran knew inviting him to izana’s house would get him out the room, he would’ve done it ages ago.

when they get there, izana immediately beams at the sight of rindou.

“dude where’ve you been? I’ve been texting and calling.” izana complains, letting them in.

rindou doesn’t respond to him, immediately walking into the living room and sitting in the free seat next to kakucho.

izana’s brothers, mikey and shinichiro, were sitting on the couch playing cod.

rindou gives a short greeting, and offers a fist bump to kakucho.

ran slouches on the floor beside izana, having idle conversation about something rindou doesn’t bother to understand.

it’s only when izana finishes talking, he notices his brothers.

“what the hell? why are you playing my game?!” izana complains, looking at the two.

“just chill izana. I’m gonna get off when my girl gets here.” mikey says idly, never looking away from the game.

kakucho had only given shinichiro the controller so he could try.

izana rolls his eyes and slouches in his seat, complaining lowly under his breath.

the door bell rings loudly and mikey launches the controller at izana, who catches it.

the boy damn near dies going to open it, a big smile on his face.

rindou hears the two talking, before the conversation grows louder.

although his attention is on the tv, he knows your voice pretty well.

your supposed boyfriend was mikey, izana’s brother.

and of course, you notice him desperately hiding in kakucho’s shadow.

“rindou?” you call quietly, blinking to see if you’d seen correct.

he nods, not offering you a glance or a greeting.

he doesn’t know if his heart could handle it.

“you guys know each other?” mikey asks, looking between the two of you.

“no.” “yes.” the two of you say in sync, rindou’s heart swelling even more.

you look upset that rindou had claimed he hadn’t known you, which he obviously has.

izana had put two and two together, sitting next to ran and nudging him with his jaw on the floor.

everyone knew the two of you knew each other, except for mikey himself.

“we know each other. can I talk to you for a sec?” you say, a hint of hurt in your voice.

rindou sighs quietly, before stepping outside to talk with you.

ran calls for a group huddle immediately.

the two of you sit outside, waiting for one another to speak.

though rindou doesn’t have anything to say.

you sigh, taking a deep breath and being the bigger person.

“where have you been?” you start off, looking at him from your knees.

“been home.” rindou responds, not too interested in the conversation.

you squint your eyes in confusion.

you had been over to the haitani house multiple times and never got a response from him.

it was always ran answering or no one at all.

“I’ve been calling. and visiting you.” you explain, frowning a bit.

“phones dead.” rindou shrugs, leaning back into the seat and rocking it back and forth.

not only had rindou broken his charger, but he broke his phone after realizing.

it was one of the many reasons he hasn’t answered anyone’s texts or calls.

though even if it wasn’t broken, he’s sure he’d just watch it ring like he did on the first day.

he didn’t wanna upset you with his face again

“why did you say you don’t know me?” you questioned, growing aggravated.

“cause I don’t.” rindou responds, still sounding uninterested.

but the more you listen, it doesn’t sound like he’s uninterested.

it sounds like he isn’t there, emotionally or mentally.

maybe even physically, but you weren’t sure.

“don’t you have a sentence to say? not two or three words?” you scoff, looking at him more offended than you ever have.

“what does he have that I don’t?” rindou questions, finally growing aggravated with you.

you stay silent, looking at rindou with shock.

it was the first time tonight he had looked at you, and he looked like he was in pain.

he definitely wasn’t as there as you thought he was before this.

he looked faded, like he wasn’t paying attention.

and maybe he wasn’t.

“rin-“ “what is it? does he treat you better? does he dress better? is he funnier? huh?” rindou cuts you off, listing things.

he was rambling now.

talking about mikey’s haircut, his bike, his gang, his face shape, his height, anything that could come to mind.

only you realize that he started to cry in the middle of it.

you had really hurt his feelings, just by saying a few words and making a face.

he stops in the middle of, hiding his face in his hands.

you rub his back as he cried, not sure of what else to do to help him.

“how long have you been together?” rindou asks, curious and having a clear enough head.

“..a month, but I’ve known him since september.” you whisper, sniffing to yourself.

rindou nodded, standing up from his seat.

“I have loved you for a year, seven months, and ten days. you’ve only known him for two.” rindou states, not sparing you a glance.

he doesn’t wait for a response, beginning to walk back into the house.

you grab his arm, stilling him in his spot. you didn’t want him to go.

“are you okay rindou?” you questioned, frowning at his facial expression.

he looked completely gone.

he pauses for a minute, before snatching his arm out of your desperate hands.

“your boyfriend is waiting.” rindou says, before walking back into the house and leaving you outside.

the breeze picks up, making you wonder if you made the right choice.

when rindou walks in the house, he’s alone.

emma’s in the kitchen, stirring something in a new pot.

she wasn’t there when rindou walked in the first time, but he couldn’t be sure.

he had his head down to look at his shoes and count his steps.

she notices him immediately though, beaming a smile at him.

“hey rindou. heard you weren’t feeling well, so I’m making soup.” emma says, gesturing to the pot.

rindou nods, offering her a smile. “thank you emma, but you don’t have to.” rindou replied.

emma shakes her head and shoos him away.

she reminds him of his mother sometimes when she does little things like this.

rindou makes his way upstairs to izana’s room, ignoring the eyes watching him from the living room.

it was mikey, rindou realized. but it hadn’t mattered.

rindou knew he didn’t stand a chance.

when he makes it to izana’s room, they were all laying around relaxing.

“oh hey rin. how’d it go?” kakucho said, looking up at him.

rindou shrugs, dropping on the floor next to izana.

izana nudges him playfully, shooting him a smile.

“em’s making that soup you like.” izana saids, wiggling his shoulders.

“I know.” rindou says, leaning his head back a bit.

ran doesn’t say anything, sprawled out on izana’s bed with his hands folded over his stomach.

and it’s best that he doesn’t.

“don’t worry rin. 10 years from now, she’s gonna have five kids and be miserable.” izana says, nudging him again.

the sound of it makes rindou chuckle.

he’ll just have to pray he can get over you.

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