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capslocked · 6 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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luveline · 6 months

Note

lovely jade if you were ever in the mood to write something for remus/reader where maybe they’re out with their friends and reader can tell that remus’ pain is flaring up but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it so she nudges him to lean on her i would be forever indebted to you

Remus has a strange laugh. It doesn't quite match his voice, which is unusual too. Sometimes he chuckles but mostly he giggles, this stringing, sweet sound as he grasps your hand or your arm or your elbow. And you love hearing it, laughing yourself at Sirius’ dirty joke, but you almost wince at the amount of weight he leans into you. It's over as soon as it began, he's moving away, his smile fading with his laugh.

You shouldn't be standing up, but the pub hadn't had a table and no one wanted to go home yet. You're waiting for an opening, a pitcher of Blue Lagoon between you all and a couple of bags of pork scratchings to ignore. Remus isn't made to stand this long, but it's not like him to mention it.

His jeans are starched under your fingers as you put a hand on his hip. He raises his eyebrows at you, semi-suggestive.

“She asked me who I was,” Sirius says, to Lily's disgust, and James’ poorly hidden amusement, “and I didn't have the heart to tell her. Remus ended up telling her we'd met before at a party–”

“Is this true?” you ask, standing closer to him than you need to.

He stares at you for a little while. Not long enough to be awkward, but longer than most people would pause. “I did feel a bit sorry for her, but she was lucky, really. Who'd want to remember a night with Pads?”

“Don't say it like that! I didn't touch the poor girl beyond helping her put a new shirt on. Such an unfortunate tattoo, that… It'd look nice on you, though,” Sirius says, grinning at James encouragingly.

“Think so?” James asks.

Lily protests this idea very loudly. James would not suit that kind of tattoo, and Remus should probably put a stop to it; Sirius’ power of persuasion multiplied by the danger of friendship (i.e. egging each other on relentlessly) could genuinely result in James getting a tramp stamp of the Welsh dragon before the night ends.

He's distracted, is all. Shifting from foot to foot, pulling his arms behind his back to prompt a click he won't get. You nudge him gently, and when he meets your eyes, you lean toward him deliberately with your shoulder clear for the grabbing. At the same time, you press your arm behind his back.

Miraculously, he accepts the offer of support. Remus wraps an arm around your shoulder and lets the majority of his weight rest on your centre of gravity, exhaling through his nose.

“Am I too much?” he asks, turning his head from his friends, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

“No. Lean on me as much as you want to.” Want, you say, rather than need.

Remus will appreciate the difference. He sighs as the pain in his back starts to ease off. If anyone were to look at you both, they wouldn't see you supporting him, just a lovers hug. You kiss his cheek a couple of times all squished together —one kiss or multiple?— before you lean away to brush soft strands of his hair behind his ear. “You okay?” you ask.

“I'm okay,” he says with a nod, a real grin on his lips as he does as you'd done, kissing your cheek. “I'm too tired for this. Do you think James can afford laser tattoo removal?”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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yandere-fetish · 7 days

Text

Yandere Patient X Female Reader

Part One

warnings: disrespect, rude, slow burn

Yandere Patient is a highly dignified CEO on his way to one of his many companies from the vast countryside. He's reading the newspaper and catching up on the latest magazines, detailing the latest hot topics and debates. The indifferent expression paired with wire framed glasses only made his handsome face more attractive.

The driver comes to a stop at a stop sign while looking both ways. There's no one around. He turns right to drive towards the city.

Yandere Patient reaches for a small drink out of the mini fridge, then the car jerks.

*SKIIIRRRTT*

*CRASH*

Yandere Patient is knocked out as his legs are disfigured in a gory way. The pain was unbearable, but Yandere Patient was in no condition to feel the pain due to the concussion. His eyes flutter shut as the driver is crawling out the front seat, attempting to check on his master.

Yandere Patient scowls at his uncle's suggestion. He doesn't need anyone to take care of him. He doesn't need an extra person supervising the way he moves or watching his every breath.

Yandere Patient didn't need a babysitter. He's a damn grown man, for God's sake!

"They're not a babysitter. They would live in the servants quarters and tend to your needs. Just treat them like a maid. They would only aid you when you need them to—"

"*scowls* And I won't need them!"

"*sigh* Nephew, there's just some things you need to understand in life, mainly that there's no 'I' in 'team'. You cannot do everything by yourself."

"Tch. Watch me! *wheels away in his new wheelchair*"

"Jenna, *sighs and stares at a picture of his sister* what am I going to do with this kid?"

This is where you come in.

You show up at noon, ready to meet your newly appointed patient after hearing so many coworkers complain about how aggressive and snarky this patient has been since joining their agency as a client.

You really hadn't wanted to take this patient under your wing but since the agency was willing to fire anyone who didn't at least try, so you had to.

The sooner you come, the sooner you can leave.

So, here you are, standing on the doorstep of a luxurious mansion with a thirty-foot driveway. You'd never dream of living in a place such as this, let alone working in one.

Funny how you'd be doing both for a while.

When the door opens, you're greeted by a tall and broad-shouldered with a friendly smile. He welcomes you in while telling you, in detail, about his nephew's accident and his.. preferences.

At first, you're shocked and confused, but nonetheless you agree.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N) from True Home Care. It's nice to meet you, Mister—"

"*scowls and ignores you* I thought they sent the last one?"

"Now, now, nephew. She's come all the way here. The least you can do is try her out for a day."

"I told you and that cheap company that I don't need anyone's help! I'll be fine on my own!"

"Just give her a chance. I'm certain it'll work out this time—"

*glares at his uncle and wheels away*

"*sighs* I apologize, Mrs. (L/N). He's moody, as you can tell. He should come around with some coaxing."

"I.. I'm sure he's not very open to strangers. I'd feel uncomfortable opening my home to one, especially several. And it's Miss— I'm not married. *smiles*"

"You're not? *clicks his tongue at the thought of an idea* I apologize again. Let me show you to your room for the time being."

It's been a a week since you first arrived at Yandere Patient's home. You've quickly become used to your room that's the size of a living room with a comfy as fuck bed to go with it. The 65" TV was definitely a nice addition, and let's not get started on the en suite bathroom and the walk-in closet.

To say you were happy was an understatement.

Now, though, you had wished you were still in your comfy bed instead of in the kitchen, gathering Yandere Patient's favorite tea.

In the sitting room was Yandere Patient and his uncle. They were once again discussing your presence in the mansion, as if you weren't in the other room. The loud noises made you flinch from time to time, but you just reminded yourself that whatever happens will happen. You've done your job well and that's all that matters.

When you're finished with the tea, you serve Yandere Patient, silently keeping yourself to the side while the two argue again.

After the uncle strikes a nerve into Yandere Patient, he walks out of the house. Yandere Patient is so pissed that he slams his hands on the table, making the teacup jump. You flinch as Yandere Patient fists his hands, his muscular arms flexing in anger as he suddenly begins to try to stand.

You're too late; Yandere Patient is all ready on the floor. He slams his fists into the hardwood, bruising them severely.

You're careful to go to his side, helping him up. Yet, the moment you touch his arm, Yandere Patient automatically shoves you away from him with a scowl.

You end up running into a sharp, marble vase table with nothing on it, luckily.

"Get the hell out of here! You're not wanted, nor needed here!"

"*on the verge of tears* You know what? Fuck you!"

"*bewildered at your sudden back talk* What..?"

"You think I want to take care of some selfish, inconsiderate twenty-some year old brat who only calls his uncle when he has a problem? I'd rather lay on my back and give birth to a child to take care of instead of someone like you! If it wasn't for the high pay, I wouldn't even be here taking this damn abuse! I work damn hard everyday to make sure your needs are met, and what do I get in return? Verbally ridiculed and now physically abused! I don't give a mother fuck if you're rich, handsome, or have power; my job is to take care of you and to only take care of you! If I wanted to care for a whiny and stubborn man, I'd go online and get myself a boyfriend!"

*stares wide eyed at you as you're huffing from anger and pain*

"Now, let me help you get up and to the bath so that I can take a fucking break, Sir."

After wheeling him into the bathroom and helping him undress, Yandere Patient is extremely docile and quiet. There's no protest or stubbornness coming from him, much to your relief.

Yandere Patient, on the other hand, notices how you skim over his body but you don't linger anywhere at all. He frowns, not really understanding why. Looking away as both of you help Yandere Patient into his wide garden tub, you silently tend to his needs.

Yandere Patient apologizes, to which you scoff at but accept his apology.

It's silent while you're helping him dry off and get dressed. Even while you're wheeling him to his bed.

But when you begin to aid him into bed, Yandere Patient notices the bruise from earlier forming into a nasty one.

Since your scrubs were moving to reveal your skin when you bend at an angle, he could see how clearly he had hurt you. Something churns in his heart at the memory of pushing you out of anger, embarrassment, and frustration.

Yandere Patient doesn't realize what he's doing until he's gently touching the bruise on your side.

"*flinches while standing up* What are you doing?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you.."

"It's.. it's all right. I'm not bleeding so there's nothing to worry about."

"*furrows his brows* It's not okay. I went too far. Let me make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Sir. There's nothing you need to make up for."

"I insist. I'll treat you to a meal, or a day at the spa? Girls care about their skin, right?"

"*smiles* It's not necessary, Sir. Have a good night. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

*after you've left*

"I'll make it up to you, somehow.. someway."

Part Two?

#yandere #yandere smut #yandere x female reader #male yandere #obsessive love #obsessive yandere #yandere aesthetic #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere x darling #romance #yandere romance #fantasy romance

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astrophileous · 6 months

Note

ZAHRA I DEMAND (request) A PART TWO OF JEALOUS REID I AM BEGGINGGGGG 🧎‍♀️😩🙏 I am actually in love with the way you write spencer like MY GAWD. MY GAWD.

your request (demand) shall be my command, your majesty 🙏

Warning(s): gn!reader, more jealous spencer bcs apparently it wasn't enough in the first one, a cheesy narration abt "change" 🤢🤢🤢 bcs why not.

This is part two for this blurb.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

If there was one thing Spencer Reid always found peculiar about mankind, it would be the general lack of acceptance when it came to change.

Before today, Spencer never understood the science behind metathesiophobia: the fear of change. Unpredicted and terrifying as it was, change was necessary to keep the ubiquitous balance of the universe. Change existed in the smallest and biggest capacity of the world, and Spencer, for the life of him, had never been able to berate change for doing exactly what it was intended to do.

Until now.

As Spencer stood next to the copy machine just a few feet away from the kitchenette, eavesdropping a discussion he had no business injecting himself into, Spencer finally understood why many people in the world feared change. The noises coming from the machine in front of him were tumultuous, but Spencer craned his neck and ears to the best of his capabilities just so he could listen in better to the conversation.

"JJ," Spencer heard you say, "I'm telling you, I'm not interested."

"I haven't even told you anything about him yet!"

"Jennifer, it's not about the guy. I'm sure your friend is lovely, but I'm just... not looking for anything like that right now."

"C'mon, (Y/N)," JJ nearly whined. "Please, please, please, just think about this? How long has it been since you broke up with that Bran guy, anyway? You've been single for a while now, don't you think it's finally time for a change?"

Change.

The word tasted bitter as Spencer felt it burn all the way down his throat.

There was a beat of pause where Spencer's heart thundered inside its crate; reeling in suspense over what your answer was going to be. He heard your sigh before your voice arose once more, "Fine. Just text me his number and I'll handle the rest myself, okay?"

Spencer tuned everything out after that, safe for JJ's elated squeal that echoed nearly halfway through the bullpen.

The rest of the day unraveled like a tedious nightmare. After collecting his belongings, Spencer headed out of the bullpen with his car keys in hand. He was waiting for the elevator to arrive, internally cursing his decision for having driven to work that morning, when an unfamiliar voice suddenly appeared behind him.

"You're still here, Doctor?"

Spencer turned around to see you approaching from the direction of Penelope's office. The smile on your face reminded him of cotton candy: soft and sweet; just like the scent of your perfume as it engulfed Spencer's whole being.

"I thought you already left," Spencer muttered.

"No, I had things to take care of. How about you?"

"Yeah. Same."

The elevator arrived with a ding. You walked in after him and pressed the button for the lobby, your scent attacking Spencer's senses even more ruthlessly within the tiny metal box.

"You have any plans for the weekend, Doc?" you asked once the elevator started going down. "A hot date, perhaps?"

Spencer loathed the view of your cheeky smile, along with the teasing gesture of your eyebrows at the suggestion of him going on a date with another person. Here he was, propelling himself to the brink of insanity over the idea of you being on a date with anyone else but him, and you didn't even bat an eye at the prospect of Spencer being with someone else.

"No hot dates for me," he responded. The elevator opened with another ding. "Can't say the same about you, though, can I?"

Your inquisitive gaze slid his way.

"I heard you and JJ in the pantry." Spencer opened the lobby doors, allowing you to walk through before falling into step beside you again. "So, are you going?"

"On the date? I honestly don't know." The night breeze blew against your face. Spencer shuffled closer when he noticed your subtle shiver. "I haven't even texted him yet. I don't feel like it, to be honest. But JJ just seemed so excited about it, so the least I could do is try talking to him first, right?"

An interim silence settled between the two of you. Before long, Spencer spotted his Volvo being parked a few paces ahead. "This is me." Spencer gestured to the car.

"Nice ride." You smiled, humming appreciatively at the vehicle. "Well, I'll get going, then. See you Monday, Doc. Drive safe."

Spencer watched as you started to saunter away. A familiar flame had begun raging and licking up his spine since the moment you mentioned the phrase a hot date in Spencer's face, and now, he could feel that same flame taking a hold of the beating organ inside his chest.

"Don't do it."

You stopped in your tracks.

It took Spencer a few seconds to realize that the interruption had come from him.

"Don't text that guy."

You spun around fully to face him. "Why not?"

"Because I don't think you should go out with him."

You looked at Spencer strangely. "You don't even know the guy."

"I don't need to. I just—" Spencer's jaw hardened, "—I need you to swear to me. Please. Swear you won't go on the date."

Your forehead creased in confusion.

You knew what Spencer was saying didn't make sense, but what perplexed you even more were the words that came out of your mouth next, "Okay. I won't go on the date."

Spencer breathed out his relief as if you just granted him fresh air after years of being buried underground. He gripped his satchel tighter and fiddled with the strap, giving you a curt nod before he slipped inside the driver's seat of his car.

Spencer drove away after that, leaving you standing alone in the middle of Quantico's deserted parking lot as you stared feebly at the tire marks on the ground. A foreign fire had suddenly flickered inside your chest, and even if you didn't understand the significance of it yet, you knew that it must've had something to do with a specific genius profiler who just demanded you to back out of a date that hadn't even been planned yet.

After casting one last look towards his speeding Volvo in the distance, you turned around and headed for your own car, feeling the fire in your ribcage burn brighter with every single one of your steps.

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sanguineterrain · 8 months

Note

Hi again 😊 You suggested i could send another prompt, sooo… maybe you & Jason have been together awhile, and you’re kidnapped by (choose your villain) and Jason is worried and frantic but trying to not show it of course, and negotiating for your safety? Ends up rescuing you of course, in whichever way you prefer, and then they find comfort in each-other 💗

I haven’t had time or energy to work on my WIP lately so this is very lovely and gratifying 😂👌🏻💗

aghh that's the worst! wishing you luck on your wip!! i'm glad you like these <3 requests are open for jason, dick, and MAWS!clark kent btw!

this one is very batfam focused hehehe. ft dramatic ass jason and his surprise kidnapped fiancé lol.

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: violence, kidnapped reader, reader is pushed off a building for a moment but they're okay dw <3, batfam feels, jason being a protective bf, bruce being a GOOD DAD! c:

****

"Actually, if we're being honest, if anyone has the most trauma in this family, it's—"

Batman grunts. "Really, Spoiler, not now."

The comm line crackles as Stephanie sniffs. "Fine. Stay in denial."

"Bats."

Every bat and bird in Gotham goes still.

"Hood?" Barbara asks carefully, already tracking his comm link.

"Oracle," he says, clipped. "I'm gonna get right to it: I need a favor. Can you help? Yes or no."

"Little Wing, where have you been?" Dick asks. "We've all—"

"Shut up, Nightwing," Jason growls. "Either you help me or not. Which is it?"

"We'll help you, Hood," Bruce says, voice washing over Jason like a balm.

Jason takes a deep breath. It's okay. He'll find you. Batman always beats the bad guys.

He fiddles with his jacket zipper. Moments tick by. Dick remains crouched on a rooftop. Damian is similarly poised.

"My..." Jason swallows. "My... fiancé's been taken."

The comm explodes with noise. Jason winces and digs the bud out of his ear for several seconds.

"Fiancé?!"

"You're getting married—"

"When was this—"

"Who are—"

"Enough," Jason growls, finally shoving the bud back into his ear. "I don't have fucking time for this. Yes, I am engaged, and they've been taken. No more questions."

"Tt. You are engaged? Impossible. Batman, clearly someone has hacked the line pretending to be Hood," Damian says, folding his arms.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, demon bird, I found someone crazy enough to marry me."

"Little Wing, I—I'm really proud of—"

"Shut up!" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. You're in trouble, and Jason intends to tear Gotham apart to find you, but involving his family? Has he really stooped so low...

Deep breath. His focus is you. You're the only person that matters.

"Look, I'm telling you because Oracle's tracking me anyway, and B would snoop until he figured out who I'm really looking for, so it's easier to just tell you. But make no mistake: you aren't my family, and you won't see us again after tonight."

Bruce's throat tightens. His cape flutters in the wind.

"Very well," he says after a couple beats. "Last known location?"

"I'm sending you the address now. I've retraced my steps a hundred times though, and I can't—" Jason grits his teeth. He can't tear up or break things, not again. "Fuck. I can't fucking find them, B. I... I don't know if-if maybe I'm too late—"

"You're not," Dick says automatically. "We'll find them, Little Wing. We'll bring them home."

****

Your head is on fire.

It feels like there's a thousand needles pelting your skull. Whatever you were drugged with, it's hard stuff, and it hasn't worn away yet.

You look up; you're gagged and tied to some kind of support beam. As your vision clears, you see that you're in one of the new high rise-in-progress. Only the skeleton of the building has been completed because if Bruce Wayne isn't involved, construction takes forever to complete.

Faintly, you recall Jason mentioning something about a construction company leaving half finished projects across the country and using them as havens for criminal activities.

Yeah. This is not good.

"Where the fuck is he?" The voice echoes across the concrete floor foundation.

"Mike, we sent—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag. Your head spins when you open your eyes again.

Who's not coming? Your rescuer? Or somebody worse than your kidnappers?

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead.

"Fine," Mike barks in the adjacent room. "If that hooded psychopath doesn't show up, we'll just dump this one. That'll send a message. Prepare the explosives."

A door swings open, and you flinch. You cower, shrinking from the figure.

"You better hope he shows," the guy growls, and cocks his gun. "Your boyfriend is the only reason you're still alive. It'll be such fun to watch him fall to his death, don't you think?"

You try not to show your swelling panic. How does he know about you and Jason? And you have to warn him. Explosives. Jason's walking straight into a trap, without backup, because you know he'll be alone. He always works alone.

Mike sneers and waves the gun around.

"Oh, yeah. I know your secrets. In bed with Gotham's biggest crime lord. You must be his favorite. I can see why."

"Mike!" someone shouts. "We got company!"

Mike's eyes blaze cruelly. "Showtime. You're coming with me."

You thrash as hard as you can because if there's one thing Jason taught you, it's to always fight back.

Mike backhands you hard enough to send you sprawling. Your hands are bound, so you can't catch yourself, and you hit your head on the concrete. Blood pools in your gums.

"Try that shit again, bitch," he snarls, and hefts you up.

He drags you up a flight of stairs. Your head throbs, and now your jaw aches. You're too dizzy to try to fight back again.

You end up on the roof, which is a miasma of beams and wooden lattices. Wind cuts through your face, and you close your eyes so they don't water.

"Hood!" Mike crows. "Wonderful of you to join us!"

"Wish I could say the same," Jason says, and your heart leaps at the sound of his voice.

You start to shout through your gag because you have to warn him. It's a trap, he'll kill you both—

Mike wraps his arm around your throat and squeezes. Air stops, and you choke on your cries.

"I'll kill you," Jason snarls, and you know he wants to say more, but he's trying to protect you. "Let them go and maybe I won't break every bone in your body."

"Oh, don't worry. You two will be reunited soon. What is it they say? Love blinds you?"

"Michael Cassidy," a new voice says, deep and deadly. "Let go of the hostage. We can talk this out."

You crack open your eyes. Is that... Batman? And Robin? And... Nightwing? What—

The arm around your throat tightens and you gasp for air as you start to choke for real. Oh God. Batman's going to die because of you.

"You involved Batman?" Mike snarls, now truly irate. You feel yourself being dragged backward, toward the edge. Your stomach rolls in warning.

"Take it easy," Batman says, palms up. "We can work this out."

"You can't play fair?" Mike shouts. "Then neither will I!"

The wood beneath your feet is gone. You're falling.

"No!"

But no sooner than you fall are you caught. Warm arms encircle your waist, and you're jerked to a stop before you can fall more than a few feet.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

Jason is connected to a grapple. At the roof edge is Batman, Nightwing, and Spoiler, all holding the grapple.

You shake your head, screaming against your gag. Bomb. Bomb!

"'S alright, 's alright, sweetheart, I won't drop you."

You scream urgently through your gag, butting your head against his helmet. Jason pulls your gag half free and you choke out the warning.

"B-bomb!"

His grip tightens. "Shit. B, get out of here! Place is rigged to blow!"

The first explosion goes off. Jason meets your gaze. He's terrified, you can tell, but he tries to mask it.

"Let go," he says.

"Wh—"

"He'll catch you," Jason promises. "I trust him."

And then he lets go.

Several more explosions go off. The building begins to crumble. Dust and heat sweep across your face and lodge in your already sore throat. You scream, in the air for a few more seconds.

Then you crash into gray body armor. A cowl, a cape.

"It's alright," Batman gruffly says. "Hold on tight."

Batman swings you both to safety on an adjacent rooftop. You watch him dive back into the flames. It isn't long before Jason swings out of the smoke, then the others. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it to the side, arms open.

You run and bury your face in Jason's neck, clinging to him. He hugs your tightly and rubs your back, saying over and over, I got you.

You sigh and slacken out of exhaustion.

"I've got you, baby," he says, though his voice is wet this time. "You're safe."

Jason checks over your wounds. You see the rage cross his face several times at every bruise and cut on you. He doesn't let go of you even after he's done. He's shaking too, perhaps more than you, as he cuts your binds and completely removes your gag.

The Bats land gracefully behind you. Jason stiffens as they do.

You kiss his jaw. His gaze returns to you.

"You saved me," you say.

"I always will," he says. "Always."

"Are either of you injured?"

Batman suddenly swishes to your side. You blink, startled.

"Nothing serious," you say. Jason grunts unhappily at that. You manage a smile. "Thank you. All of you. Thank you so much."

Jason nods stiffly. "Thanks, Bats."

Nightwing smiles, face soft with affection. "'Course, Hood. And, uh, Hood's fiancé. We're there any time you need us."

"That's right, chum," Batman says. The obvious care in his voice makes you ache.

Jason had called his family. His family with whom he has a plethora of problems. He'd called them for you.

"Jay," you say, voice thick with emotion. He seems to understand instantly.

"I'll always bring you home," he vows, cupping your face. "Whatever it takes."

He pulls you to him like he can't bear to be away from you any longer.

You squeeze his wrists. "I know. It's okay, Jay. I'm okay."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that the Bats still have not dispersed. Spoiler looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Nightwing is the same. Even Batman looks a little sentimental.

Robin is the only one scowling, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hood, are you not going to introduce your fiance-we-just-learned-existed-tonight?" Robin asks, arms folded.

Jason huffs. "Not with those manners, demon brat."

You roll your eyes and extend your hand to Batman. You say your name, smiling.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," you say.

Batman laughs, and it sounds a little fond. It's also kind of weird to hear Batman laugh. "No sir necessary. It's equally an honor to meet the person my son is marrying."

Jason makes a choked little noise. You beam.

"Well," Batman murmurs. "We'll let you two get home. We'll track down the rest of Michael's thugs—"

"Come to the wedding," Jason blurts.

Batman stills. "Me?" he asks carefully.

"Everybody," Jason says, tugging you into his side. "Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana, Selina, your ten thousand kids, everyone."

He turns to you. "I-I mean, as long as that's okay with you, baby."

"Oh, Jay. It's your family. Of course I want them to come." You lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you."

"Little Wing, c'mere!"

Nightwing tackles Jason in a hug, then drags Robin, who protests loudly, in by his cape. Spoiler snaps a picture from the sideline.

"Now that's adorable," she says.

Batman looks at you. He removes his cowl, and you gasp quietly. He smiles, and it makes him look decades younger. You guess he hasn't smiled much since he lost Jason.

"Thank you," he says.

You tilt your head. "For what?"

"For bringing him back to us."

You duck your head. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, that wasn't me—"

"Bruce," he corrects gently. "And it was. You played a bigger part than you know. You saved him. Thank you."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x yn #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batfam fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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wittyminds · 20 days

Text

More Than A Feeling

This was just a random idea to distract me from revising for my exams. I'm slightly obsessed with him at the moment and just wanted to write some fluff that would make me even more sad than i already am. I know I also said that I would be doing a bucky barnes fic but... i got distracted and now can't commit to writing it. I'll probably write it eventually but i can't bring myself to do it right now.

I was also listening to More Than A Feeling by Boston when writing this so... it stuck.

Just a small fic of Steve Harrington and a bookworm reader girlfriend who is also Dustin's sister after their first time and the "chaos" that ensues.

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff, Suggestive, Both Steve's and Reader's 'first time'

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Dustin couldn't understand how it all happened or exactly when you stopped disliking the King of Hawkins but he was convinced it would all end in heartbreak. He did like Steve Harrington after he protected them all from all the dangers they had faced over the years. But dating his sister was a different matter.

To say he is overprotective of you would be an understatement.

You had spent your entire life protecting him from bullies and assholes and now it was his turn to keep you from the possible heartbreak that was Steve Harrington.

So when he peaked through the door to your room and saw the two of you curled round each other fast asleep, he couldn't help but feel upset and scared for you. It clearly wasn't the first time Steve had snuck through the window without anyone but you knowing and the thought brought disgust to his gut. He had invited his friends round as your parents were away. He now regretted the idea and wished he had agreed when Mike suggested his house instead.

He wasn't being dramatic, he had every right to believe that you could end up like all the other girls.

Before he could wake you both up, though, his friends had pulled him back and disappeared back into his room to discuss what they had just seen.

Steve, on the other hand, couldn't be happier.

Your head rests on his chest, arms wrapped round his body. A sheet covers you and he brings his hand up and down your arm gently as he gazes at you asleep. He has been like this since he woke up to see you curled round him, hair a mess, no makeup on and breathing softly onto his bare chest.

What had happened the night before had surprised you both, if he was quite honest with himself. He had been ready from the second date with you but you had made it clear that you wanted to wait. He had thought he was ready when he dated Nancy but when the time came, he froze and ruined the moment.

But now, here you were snuggled up close with memories of the night before playing through your dreams as your boyfriend watches over you lovingly. He can't remember ever loving anyone as much as he loves you and all he wants is to tell you, and keep you by his side till the day he dies.

Just as his hand stops grazing your arm, you roll over off of him and wriggle onto your side, still facing him. Your lips pull up into a brief smile before dropping again. He shifts his body onto his side too and props his head onto his arms, watching as your eyebrows pull together and your eyes flutter open slowly.

A huge grin falls onto his lips as you look up groggily with a bashful smile.

"Morning, beautiful." His voice is still husky from sleep and a thousand butterflies take flight in your stomach.

"Morning." You rub a hand over your eyes to try and wake up properly, to no avail.

"I was gonna make breakfast, if you're hungry." He lifts his head off his arm to give you a playful look that is sleepily returned.

He gets up from the bed and tries to track down his trousers and socks before perching on the edge of the bed to give you a soft kiss that lingers longer than usual.

His blushing face then leaves your eyesight and you roll onto your back with a disbelieving laugh, quickly covering your mouth to stifle it.

You were still questioning how the two of you were even together, total opposites from different sides of the school. The King and a bookworm.

You suppose, in a weird way, you could thank the horrors that you had both witnessed over the past two years for bringing you together. But you don't want to give the Upside-Down any credit for your happiness given it was a hell like no other.

You can still remember how much you had disliked him at first, the way he acted, the way he spoke to people, the way he made you feel about yourself. His "friends" had given you hell for years and when he had finally stood up to them and broken up with Nancy, you had seen the better version of Steve Harrington who laughed and smiled and actually cared without any fear of being judged.

As you lie on your back, you cans still feel the gentle press of his hands on your skin, hear the whispered words "Are you sure?". Still feel his face buried in the crook of your neck, hear the hushed laughter when he first appeared over you with a bashful "Hello."

It couldn't have been more perfect and you could smile forever in your new bliss.

You wrestle your way out of the warmth of the bedsheets, grabbing the closest article of clothing to you: his navy sweater from yesterday. The sleeves fall over your hands and you bunch it up in fists as you open the door and walk into the hallway.

Dustin's door is still closed and you creep past, so as not to wake him. He wouldn't quit poking fun at you or Steve if he saw you now so it was better to be safe than sorry to leave him sleeping in. It was the holidays anyway.

You're suddenly startled by the sound of pots and pans crashing against each other, followed by the sound of a terribly hidden string of curses as whoever spilled the contents of the cupboard tried (and failed) to catch them.

When you reach the kitchen door, you can see Steve busy at the stove, pots and pans sitting haphazardly on the counter and floor. Without a word, you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watch him attempt to work the stove. A smile plays on your lips and eventually, you clear your throat quietly to get his attention.

He whips round, only to notice that it's you.

"Morning... again." You murmur softly, still smiling.

God, it was like you slept with a hanger in your mouth or something.

"Morning," He turns away as his cheeks blush bashfully, and you can't help but feel warmth at the thought of making Steve Harrington blush. The thought nearly turns your legs to jelly and you walk over to the stove to keep them working.

You swat his hands away from the buttons with a laugh and stand in his place to turn the stove on, hearing his almost silent "Oh." as you show him how to work it.

His arms snake their way round your middle and his chin falls onto your shoulder, your face heating at the contact. He places soft kisses on your shoulder, then your neck, and you run your hands along his forearms.

"Steve." You feel him hug you tighter at his name and his hum of acknowledgement is disguised by another kiss, "Last night..."

You trail off and he laughs against your neck, moving away to turn you round. His nose scrunches as your hands move to the ends of his hair out of habit and he sways slightly.

"Yeah?" You can tell he's wanting you to talk more and you repress a sigh.

"I just wanted to say I..." You can't seem to finish the sentence as you gaze into his eyes, the whole scene perfectly homely. You didn't want to ruin it with a love confession that might be rejected.

He watches you with curious smirk and you open your mouth to speak again but he cuts you off with a sweet, slow kiss.

Your hands move further into his hair and his pull you closer by the waist. More memories of meaningful kisses and the whispered confessions whilst pressed close together from last night resurface in your mind. The feeling of his hands, his lips, just his touch made your head spin and your forehead falls onto his, not breaking the kiss.

"Oh come on!"

Your brother's voice startles you both and you break apart, Steve keeping a hold of your waist.

Dustin stands in the doorway, his friends lingering in the hallway, awkwardly watching the scene playing out. You feel your face burn and turn to your boyfriend for help, but he seems entirely unfazed.

"A bit of privacy wouldn't kill you, Henderson." Steve grumbles, ignoring the disgust on Dustin's face.

"I live here." Dustin replies matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

"And..?" You can't help but hold back a laugh at your boyfriend's oblivion and he pulls a face at you which lets the laughter escape.

Dustin pulls a different kind of face, "Well, when you two are finished grossing everyone out, I'd like some pancakes."

You roll your eyes and walk over to him, placing your hands on his shoulders to turn him round. He begins to protest but gives up when you give him a sharp pinch on either side.

"Just go upstairs and do whatever it is you do together there," You give him your most serious look you can muster with a stomach full of butterflies.

"Fine," He stomps up the stairs, "But I'm serious about those pancakes!"

You watch his friends follow him up, quickly noticing the two girls and yell up a quick "Leave the door open!" before turning to return to the kitchen.

Max stops and gives you a look that makes you freeze and eye her curiously.

"Yes?" You ask quietly.

"I was just thinking that the sweater is real subtle." Her eyes move along the sweater and you shift uncomfortably under them.

"I-I don't know what you mean..."

She snorts out a laugh and runs up the stairs.

"Nice hickey, by the way!" She yells after her and you throw a shoe up the stairs that hits her legs.

"Teenagers." You mutter under your breath and turn back to the kitchen to see Steve leaning against the counter, a smirk playing on his pretty lips.

"Want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours, Harrington?" Your voice is quiet and he closes the distance between the two of you in four long strides.

His thumb grazes your chin, pushing your face up to his before he kisses you again, a contented sigh escaping him. Once again, your hands find his messy hair and he grips the sweater with a little more power than before.

"God, I love you." His words are almost hidden against your lips but you freeze and pull away slightly, out of breath from both the kiss and his confession.

A blush creeps up his face and you can't help but smile before giving him another quick peck on his lips, relief filling you.

How can you have thought this man didn't love you enough to say it when he had blushed and grinned the entire morning. You love him to Jupiter and back a thousand times and realise, you had always really known he feels the same.

So, when the words leave your mouth and leave him a blushing mess, you can't help but know that this is your future.

You and him.

"I love you too."

***

A/N

I really hope you liked it and just a reminder that my requests are open via messages so just ping me a message if you have a request for any of the characters from my first post. Thank you! xx

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another-lost-mc · 8 months

Note

Hello! Hope your doing well, I just wanted to request how Lucifer (and his brothers if you want) would react to an MC with a birthday on the same day or near their birthday? I am requesting this because I only just found out my birthday is the day after Lucifers, I really don’t know how I never realized this, but yeah. You don’t have to do this right away I know your busy, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your day/night!

- 🥀

a/n: that could lead to so many fun and touching moments! my birthday is the day after solomon's and I think a combined party with him would be awesome, as long as he's not allowed to cook anything.

sharing the same birthday with mc | the demon brothers + dateables

1.2k words | sfw | fluff | gn!reader

cw: slightly suggestive in belphie's section because it's him. hints of possessiveness if you squint (mostly the dateables).

There are different reactions to knowing your birthday is on or near their own. Almost all of them will try to prioritize your own preferences instead of their own. If you do (or don't) want to celebrate your birthdays together, they'll accommodate you so that you have the best birthday possible. ♡

Lucifer — He's the Avatar of Pride and one of Diavolo's closest friends. A large celebration is inevitable and he has a certain image to uphold. If it were anyone else but you, he might be offended about sharing the spotlight of his birthday with someone else. Since it is you, he's not only open to the idea, but he's suddenly more invested in making sure the others take the preparations seriously. He also realizes that throwing one party (and dealing with the chaos that ensues) might be better than trying to throw two parties.

Mammon — He's totally onboard sharing his birthday party if it's with you. Everyone goes all-out to make the party bigger and better, and he's not going to complain about that. He still wants to do something special though, just the two of you. Maybe the day before or the day after the big party, nothing fancy, as long as you can focus on each other. Plus, he just happens to have another present he got for you, one he didn't want to give you at the party in front of everyone else. It's more sentimental, and he blushes when you open it and your eyes sparkle happily like the most beautiful gems he's ever seen. Without the others around, he gets to keep this perfect moment all to himself.

Levi — This works out great for him and he's more than willing to share the spotlight with you. It draws attention away from himself which means he's not as anxious. He doesn't usually like how much of a fuss everyone makes about his birthday. He might actually enjoy himself more knowing that he has something else in common with his Henry you. When the celebrations get too intense and completely unbearable, he can sneak away while everyone is distracted by the other guest of honor. Honestly, he thinks you deserve more attention than he does anyway.

Satan — He knows you have excellent taste and is completely fine to let you choose what kind of party to have. His brothers complain about his boring birthday ideas: going to a museum or gallery, seeing a play or obscure film in the human world. It's painfully transparent when they're more enthusiastic about doing those things if you want to. Satan can't find it in his heart to be (too) angry about it, because he holds your hand or sits next to you the entire time. He's going to make the most of it and no one else can complain. It's his birthday, after all.

Asmo — The only thing better than a big party celebrating his birthday is an even bigger party celebrating both of you! He's almost unbearable during the planning stage - he insists that everything must be perfect because you deserve nothing less than that. By the time he's done organizing everything, his birthday almost feels like an afterthought because he gets so caught up in making it the perfect day for you. He holds your hand and tucks you against his side when the party guests greet you and offer their birthday wishes. He takes countless selfies of both of you, but he keeps most of them for himself because he just can't bring himself to share them. You're stunning in the matching outfit he gave you as part of your gift, and he feels like the luckiest demon in the three realms every time you return his happy smiles with a bashful one of your own.

Beel & Belphie — They're already used to sharing birthday parties with each other, and they're happy to share with you too. They love their brothers and appreciate their friends, but on their birthday, they would rather spend the day with you alone. Their dream birthday is the perfect blend of all three of your interests. Beel gets to splurge on his favourite foods, and Belphie clings to you like an overly affectionate sloth. He's half-serious when he asks you to feed him because he's too tired to feed himself, and Beel just smiles around a mouthful of food watching the two of you bicker across the table. Beel gives you his gift, something thoughtful but practical, something he knows you wanted. Belphie nuzzles against your shoulder and slides his hand under the hem of your shirt and promises, "When we get home, we should have a nap - and I'll give you your present then."

Diavolo — His birthday is already one of the grandest celebrations in the Devildom, and he likes that it also falls on Halloween. Adding your birthday celebration to his is the best excuse to throw the biggest party in the three realms. Even if you share a party together, he makes sure that all the attendees acknowledge your birthday as much as they acknowledge his. He makes a toast in your honour and invites all your other friends to do the same. It's a glimpse of what it feels like to treat you like royalty, and Diavolo thinks he wouldn't mind sharing his birthday (or more) with you.

Barbatos — He doesn't usually like it when the others make a fuss over his birthday. It feels sort of pointless to someone with his power - time has strange meaning to him now. He softens his resistance to big parties or elaborate plans when he realizes he shares that special day with you. He would gladly take a personal day to celebrate his birthday (or yours) if you ask him to, since it's your company he enjoys the most. The Little Ds work hard to make sure Barbatos has nothing to worry about on his day off, but he's suspicious that they're only behaving so well because of you. Every year he looks forward to his birthday because he can spend the day spoiling you, and since your birthdays are so close together, he has the rare luxury of being spoiled by you too.

Simeon — He would prefer to spend his birthdays with you alone. He doesn't have many desires, but your company is something he craves constantly. That doesn't change when your birthday is the same as his, or is very close to it. If he's smart about it, he can make your combined celebration work to his advantage. It's not a lie when he tells everyone that an outing or special trip might be more exciting than a party at the castle, and it's hard to resist when there's still so much of the Devildom for you to experience and explore. (Simeon mostly counts on having more opportunities to sneak you away for some alone time if the others are distracted by their own activities.)

Solomon — He gloats that your birthdays are (nearly) identical, as if you're kindred spirts that share a special bond the others don't. (He brags about it so much that if they didn't care before, they're annoyed by it now.) The month of December in the human world can be so festive and nostalgic, but he understands why having a birthday during a holiday season can be a double-edged sword. Sometimes your birthday felt second-place to the other celebrations going on that time of year. You're his adorable little apprentice, and he promises like an oath that you'll never be disappointed or alone on your birthday again. You've never felt so special because you know he means it. (Your only request is that he lets someone else handle the birthday cake.)

read more: when it's mc's birthday (nsfw) | obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #x reader #gn!reader

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sleepyangelkami · 3 months

Note

I am completely obsessed with your Ellie stories. I beg you, please... Write more!!

HAUNTED DREAMS e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 3.2K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - you had always found it difficult to sleep but when ellie's there, it's like all the bad dreams go away. one night she takes night patrol and when she returns, she realises that the dreams have snuck into your mind while she's been gone.

☆ WARNINGS - reader has a nightmare, mentions of character death, mentions of reader's family dying, ptsd, reader having sorta a panic attack, violence + gore, comfort, suggestive joke in the beginning, use of y/n, petnames, use of good girl (not sexually), intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

your parents died before you got to jackson. in fact, when you'd found yourself walking in the gates, you were covered in blood from head to toe, your arms shaking from around you. you'd lost the only people that meant anything to you after the world had gone to shit. the people of the town had let you in. some asian kid opened the gates, he'd soon become one of your best friends. you were appointed to maria and tommy who, of course, let you stay. they took you in as one of your own.

ellie williams followed to the town soon after you did. at this stage, you were already best friends with dina and jesse, they had become the family you only could have dreamed for, it was all you needed after everything had happened.

back then, you were too shy to talk to the pretty auburn haired girl. she looked so cool, so fearless. she quickly became friends with jesse after being on patrol who then introduced her to dina who then introduced her to you.

you and ellie hit it off like no other.

quickly, you became inseparable. best friends, so they called it. you two were practically attached by the hip. she got you and you got her, there was nothing more about it. some people (jesse, single handedly jesse) would tease you for closeness to ellie, tell you that you must have a crush on the girl if you missed her the second she leaved and fawned over her the moment she returned. then again, jesse had always known you better than anyone else, seemingly more than yourself did at times.

jesse soon turned out to be right and by seventeen, you and ellie were just smitten for each other. when you guys got together, you went through a phase where you didn't talk. i mean, of course you talked, you hadn't gone mute. but what you hadn't talked about was everything before. ellie seemed pretty open when you guys started dating, she began spilling everything about her past, the present, everything with the fireflies, her immunity, joel's lies. everything just spewed from her mouth and into your arms. you? you picked her right up and comforted her that night that she told you everything, tears trickling down her face.

you never could talk like her though.

she knew you used to get really bad nightmares of that night, the night that everything happened, the night that you're life seemingly ended. she knew that these dreams seemed to always sneak up on you at the times that she wasn't around which was why she did everything she could to be around. it'd been years since you met ellie, you trusted her more than anyone else you've ever met. but there were just some words that you simply couldn't get out. ellie was okay with this, never pressured you. if anything, she'd kiss your head and let you know that when you were ready, she'd be there. even if it were mere loose words falling from your lips, she'd string up sentences and make a story for you both. she was so good.

then, maria had the bright idea of putting ellie on night patrol.

"do you have to go?" you spoke, your chin on her shoulder and all pouty as you looked up at her with her doe eyes. you and ellie spent every single night together, covered in one anothers embrace. she made all the problems in the world go away by simply being there. the nightmares, at least.

ellie sighed, turning her head to you with a look of guilt across her face. she really didn't want to leave you alone for the night but nobody could argue with maria. "i'll be as quick as i can, baby." and you believed her, but that didn't mean that it didn't suck.

"I know." you snuggled yourself into her, nuzzling your head into her neck. her scent filled your nose, wood and cologne, it was enough to have your legs wobbling. her arms were around you, holding you close as her hands trailed up and down your back, underneath your her shirt. her hands were warm, they reminded you of the summer, heating you up even when the harsh winter invaded your skin. you loved jackson but god was it cold.

she let a couple moments pass before sighing, glancing up at the clock. "i really have to go, sweetheart." because as much as she'd love to spend the rest of the night with you, she knew her patrol partner would soon worry as to where she'd gone.

you pulled yourself out of her embrace, blinking heavily. it seemed as though you were already pretty tired. "i know." you murmured again, as much as you didn't want to accept it.

when ellie had found out she had night patrol, the first place she went was maria's, telling her she couldn't do night patrols, not now, not ever. maria understood, she tried sympathising with her and with you, who at the time had no idea of the situation. but ellie didn't need the sympathy or the pity, she merely grumbled. she got a little angry, stating that maria didn't get it and that ellie couldn't go on night patrols, not when she knew you'd be sat inside your shared home while curling up into yourself. ellie had listened to your 'it's okay's and 'just go, it's fine' one too many times only to find you in the living room, staring into space with teary eyes. she wouldn't leave you alone for another night again, not when she knew how it'd end every single time. maria could only sigh, telling her she'd see what she could do. soon enough, she informed ellie that she wouldn't be put on night patrols again but tonight there simply wasn't anyone to cover for her. so, she'd give up tonight to save the rest of the nights. but that didn't mean it was any easier.

"hey." ellie caught your chin between her thumb and pointer finger. "you're gonna be fine, okay? jus' get some rest, sweet girl, i'll be back before you know it." her mouth leaning forward to press a kiss against your warm lips.

and so, she was gone.

without her, the room felt so cold. without her presence heating it up, it felt damp almost. there was something eerie about it that had you folding in on yourself. you were dressed in her boxers and her sleep shirt, using it so you could soak in the smell of her. you thought it'd help, it didn't. without her, you were sort of lost.

you felt a cold shiver run up your spine.

no, no you couldn't do this.

you quickly sat up on the bed, switching on the lamp next to your and ellie's bed. the bedsheets were a light pink, dark pink hearts dotted across the sheets, your wallpaper was pink again, with flowers across it. ellie wasn't a fan of anything in the room really, but it made you happy and that was all that mattered to ellie. you soon found out that you cold get anything you want just by smiling at her, you were her inseparable.

but as of right now, nothing felt warm and fuzzy. and you couldn't bring yourself to smile, even when you were thinking of the most beautiful, gentle, perfect girl in the world, your ellie. oh, how desperately you needed her home.

you shut yourself down, shaking your head. one night, you reminded yourself, you had to get through one night without her. you suddenly felt like a baby for even being scared in the first place. nothing could hurt you here in jackson, not like what could outside, not like what hurt your family all that time ago.

you blinked harshly, trying to erase the thoughts from your head.

a book sat on your bedside table, you'd read it a thousand times. or, well, ellie had read it. you merely listened as you forced her to read it, batting your lashes and telling her please. you just needed a bedtime story and ellie wasn't exactly the most creative. the last time she tried making up a bedtime story it ended with her pushing your two plushies in front of you, imitating your moans from the night before. this, of course, had earned a swat into the back of the head and a whine quite alike 'ellieeeuyh! you're supposed to be making a good story!' to which she was awfully offended. 'this is a good story! see, i'm bear ellie fucking bunny y/n.' putting on weird voices for each character.

you'd picked up the book, sitting it in front of you and focusing your mind on the words. this time, you wanted to be good for ellie. you wanted her to be able to come home and just sleep. if you focused on the words, distracted yourself enough then you could stay up as late as you pleased, you would only go to sleep after she's returned home.

you thought the plan was great.

staying awake until she got home. staying awake until she got home. staying awake until... you were so tired.

you were so tired that you hardly noticed your mind slipping and your eyes fluttering shut. your sleeping mind didn't register the way that the book slowly fell from your hands and onto the side of the bed, eyes screwed shut and breathing becoming softer, slower. suddenly, you were in a deep sleep and you had many hours to go before your girlfriend comes home.

seconds passed, turning into minutes and then the blur of at least two hours.

you were still passed out in the bedroom. in your sleep, you'd managed to move so you were laying against the soft, fluffed pillows that elevated you a little. your body had found itself engulfed in the blankets that surrounded you, ellie's scent filling the room.

but even the familiar scent of your girlfriends clothes you wore couldn't pull you out of the dream that had snuck it's way towards you now.

the eerie feeling creeped through your body, sending shivers throughout you as the hair stood on your arms. it snuck it's way through towards your head, seeping into your mind. before you'd fallen asleep, you'd almost assumed that the warm light of the room would keep the monsters and demons in your head at bay. but of course, without ellie, you were seemingly trapped.

ellie found herself making her way towards your guys' house a while later. it was late, so late, the sky had darkened completely, a black blanket enveloping the town of jackson. her jacket was covered in snow, little flakes draw across the material. she'd barely made it inside the house when the real snow began, she knew jackson like no other and she knew that by morning, the entire town would be covered in snow. she wasn't a fan but you adored it. you thought it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, she thought the same about you.

making her way inside, she kicked off her boots, tossing off her jacket and letting her bag fall against the ground. it was quiet, she took this as a good sign.

her sock covered feet trailed themselves towards the living room, peeking her head in and not spotting you anywhere. she supposed, that was also a good sign. perhaps you'd done what she asked and gotten some sleep for yourself.

before she left the living room, she made sure to put another log on the fire, knowing it'd be the last one for the night and hoping that it'd keep the house warm for a while. you'd mentioned lighting the stove in the kitchen earlier but ellie shrugged you off, stating that you both would be just fine with the living room fire. of course, you were right, you were always right and as her arms wrapped around herself, she realised she better start listening to you more.

she found herself walking up the stairs, reaching the top and flicking off the light. you were always too scared to do it by yourself, she couldn't help but smile fondly at the thought.

ellie's eyes glanced towards your guys' bedroom door, peeking inside. she could see that the bedside table lamp had been turned on and she found herself walking towards it, spotting you. you were all wrapped up in the blankets, your hair covering the only part of your face that had been visible. she couldn't see your face, however, she still managed to press a little kiss against your forehead, petting your head slightly. then, she grasped the book that was sitting next to you, it must have fallen. without a second thought, she took it from your position, placing it back on the table and then grasping the blankets, taking them down from your face and tucking them around your body. she pushed the hair from your face too, seeing your beautiful features suddenly come to life. she wondered how on earth she had gotten so lucky.

at this point, her eyes were almost fuzzy from tiredness so she hadn't noticed the way your brows were scrunched together, lips strewn in a pout. turning off the only light in the bedroom, she moved away from your body, grasping her jumper and pulling it off her body. she stayed clad in her sports bra, her hands fumbling with the buttons of her jeans, letting them fall off her. it wasn't until she was stepping into her sweatpants that she heard it. a noise fell from your lips, a little whimper.

instantly, her ears perked up, turning her head in your direction. you'd moved from where you last were, almost shoving your face in the pillows beneath you. then, she heard it again, that loud, prolonged whine.

and she knew, it wasn't right.

she was rushing towards you in seconds. getting up onto the bed and her hands finding your body. "hey, hey, wake up, baby." those blasted nightmares that she wished she could get rid of. her poor girl didn't deserve such things. "c'mon, angel, wake up." she tried, her hands pushing at you, shaking you gently albeit.

"please." you mumbled, all broken and soft as you pushed your head into the pillow impossibly more. though, your eyes were still strewn shut, ragged breaths falling from your lips. "please no."

and ellie's heart broke impossibly more. she knew what you were dreaming of, those clickers, those stalkers, the infected, taking your parents and piecing them apart piece by piece all in front of your eyes. their blood spewing onto you. you'd tried so hard, fought for them and in the end you were left with dead clickers, though your parents weren't in any better condition. "wake up, sweet girl." though her voice was slick with stress, trying to will you awake.

when you did wake, a scream was ripping at your throat. you were up in seconds, your breathing laboured and whimpers falling from your lips. ellie's arms were wrapping around you so instantly, you found yourself clawing her off. "please, please, stop, don't―" you couldn't see that it was ellie in the darkness of the bedroom, only feeling arms engulfing you.

"hey, hey, it's just me. 's ellie." she wrapped her arms around yours, strapping them down so you didn't flail them, hurting her or yourself in the process of waking.

you stopped moving, although your breathing was still laboured, breaths shallow and uneven. "ellie." is all you mumbled, so confused. everything had felt so surreal, as if you were there in the moment once more, now that you were back in the bedroom with ellie by your side, it just didn't seem real.

she'd placed your back against her front, sitting behind you as she held you close. "'s okay, sweetheart, 'm right here, ellie's here." but she could hear the way your breathing only picked up, your mind flooding with thoughts of the nightmare. "i gotchu, angel, calm down, alright?" but you couldn't, you tried, believe me you tried but your breathing wouldn't stop, you couldn't catch your breath. ellie knew what to do, noticing the panic attack that was stringing upon you. "hey, c'mere." her hand fell down to your own, clasping it softly, she brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss to it before placing it on her chest. "y'feel that, honey? 's my heart, 'm here and so are you." she placed your hand over to your own chest, feeling the harsh beat of your heart against it, it was a stark contrast to the soft one of her own. she moved downward slightly, pulling you with her so she could lay on her back, laying your head against her chest. "jus' match my breathing, baby, you've got this." and you tried, wheezing your breaths out. "jus' like that, such a good girl. where are you, sweets?"

you let out a shaky breath. "h-home." you managed to get out, your eyes still welled with tears.

she hummed, agreeing with you. "whose home?"

"ours." you spoke softly, shutting your eyes and breathing out. you attempted everything in your will to stop the rapidness of your heartbeat. but ellie didn't pressure you, making sure you took your time.

"my smart girl." she mumbled. "'s right, you're home. we're home, okay? there's absolutely nothing for you to worry about, nothing can get you here, you're safe."

"els." she hummed, waiting for you to finish. "w-was s'scared." this was when your breathing had returned to normal but the tears willing to break free were still embedded into your eyes.

"oh, i know, honey." feeling her heart break for you. she held you close, pressing kisses into your hair. she wished she could help more, she felt utterly useless just keeping you in her arms. though, her fingers soothed up and down your back, trying to comfort you. she'd never know just how good of a job she was doing. "but there's nothing to be scared of anymore, 'm here, okay?"

you nodded, breathing out as you placed your head in the crook of her neck, she could feel your steady breaths against her skin. "feel safe with you." you told, fluttering your eyes shut. suddenly, the world didn't feel so scary, the past didn't seem so terrifying. with ellie, being truly safe seemed possible.

"you are safe with me." she informed you, fingers pressing shakes onto your skin. "what happened to you was... awful." your chest ached at the thought of that night with your parents. "but nothing more is going to happen to you as long as i'm here."

you pulled your head from her neck, looking up at her with those watery eyes. "promise?" voice bleak and broken.

ellie smiled softly at you. "I promise." pulling your head towards her to capture your lips in a soft kiss. you melted into her, allowing her to heal you with her touch, her hand against your jaw. when she pulled away, she was pulling the hair away from your face, big green eyes looking at you so full of admiration and love. "'s me 'n you against the world, baby."

never in your life had you been so sure of something before.

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pullhisteeth · 10 months

Text

wise words | eddie munson

summary Eddie f*cked up (royally) and has to work his ass off to get you back. based on a swift song obviously [4k]

contains 18+! fem!reader, a bit of fuckboy!eddie, angst, arguing, grovelling, hurt/comfort, crying, eventual fluff, suggestive themes/allusions to smut, Robin and Steve being disappointed but supportive pseudo-parents

He’s standing on your doorstep.

He’s standing on your doorstep and he’s shaking. Like a fucking leaf.

He looks down at the flowers wrapped in cellophane and thinks, are they good enough?

Am I good enough?

Will anything ever be good enough?

Thick drops of rainwater run down the plastic and coat the pink petals and he resolves that no, they’re not good enough.

He knocked twenty-three seconds ago. He knows this because he’s counting, keeping himself grounded.

Twenty-four Mississippi.

Twenty-five Mississippi.

Twenty-six Miss-

The door swings open quickly, almost impatiently, as though there wasn’t nearly half a minute between the knock and the response.

He looks up and when his eyes meet yours he knows for sure this time that this was a bad idea.

“Are you insane?” you ask him. Concern cuts through the irritation, leaving those creases by your eyebrows he’s so familiar with.

He doesn’t respond, his mind elsewhere. He’s desperately trying to pull it back but it’s running fast, back to yesterday evening.

“Eddie, seriously,” Robin says, impatient, “you have to do something. This is getting ridiculous, and besides, she’s crazy about you, even if you did royally fuck up, and- Hey!”

“What Rob means to say,” Steve interjects, giving her a swift and clean elbow to the ribs, “is that you’ve gotta grovel, man.”

“But it’s been so long,” Eddie whines, running his hands over his face, a pattern he has grown accustomed to over the past few months. A fed-up, miserable routine of lamenting his deepest regrets to his patient but equally-as-fed-up friends over beers on the nights you’re too busy to join them. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Here,” Robin says, laying her palms flat on the table, fingers splayed. She pushes herself up, weight on her hands, and leans over Eddie. He stares up at her from behind his own fingers and winces quietly. “You love her, right?”

“Yes,” he responds, voice muffled under the heels of his hands.

“And she loves you-”

“Does she?”

“-and we know this because we’re her friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flit to Steve, whose face is drooping with sympathy. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of a Robin Buckley lecture knows the feeling, and he has had his fair share.

“So what you gotta do,” she continues, dipping her head to regain his attention, “is apologise.”

“I tried that-”

“Properly.”

At this he gives in, huffing a sigh and dropping his arms to fold in front of him, quickly enough to catch his head as it drops to the table like an anvil. He hears Robin return to her seat, and then feels gracious fingers on his elbow.

“Eds, man, it’s gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta fight for it.” It’s Steve, being soft as ever, so desperate to see his two friends happy that he’ll relinquish himself to his affectionate side.

“I want to,” he says, voice muffled again by the denim of his jacket sleeves. “But she deserves better than me.”

“Tell her that,” Robin suggests, voice far softer now. “Tell her you miss her, it’s been a long time, and that you were scared.”

She’s clever, Eddie thinks, pulling that gem out from the archives. On a particularly bad night, maybe two months after it had happened, he’d admitted to them the truth at the heart of all of this: he’s a scared boy, one who resolved while young that he would never fall in love, never let the walls down, for fear that he’d have to endure loss any more than was necessary. Your love had driven him mad and fear had driven him away, and now he avoids three diners and nearly all of the gas stations across Hawkins, schedules doctors appointments at the most inconvenient times and definitely never steps foot in the movie theatre downtown.

“She’ll come around,” Robin tells him kindly. When he lifts his head, eyes regretfully filling with that hopeful spark, she says, “She’s mad, don’t get me wrong. But she’ll come around. You just have some work to do.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Steve says in a cadence that worries Eddie enough to make him lift his head back up again, looking at Steve’s stern expression, “she does deserve better than you.”

“Stop, Steve, seriously-”

“She deserves better than you if you can’t find the fucking courage to go get her back.”

Now, standing on your front doorstep, looking at you for the first time in half a year, Eddie knows Steve was right. He doesn’t have the balls to do this; he’s too afraid of rejection, and more specifically rejection from you, and this was a bad idea. You deserve better.

He barely notices when you step one pace to the left, and when you speak your voice sounds like it’s coming from the other side of a thick wall.

“You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out there.”

He moves without thinking too hard, because you’re right - it’s cold as fuck out here and he’s grateful for the humming warmth he can feel coming from inside your home.

“Just stay there, I’m gonna get some towels.”

He feels pathetic, standing in your hallway, dripping wet like a fucking dog, gripping so hard onto the flowers that his knuckles are turning white. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, afraid of getting anything in your house wet, but acutely aware of how stupid he must look.

You come back around the corner with two big bath towels in your arms. They’re white and Eddie feels the burning shame of ruining them but says nothing, remaining tight-lipped and letting you clean up the floor. When your fingers curl around his tense ones he stares at you, at the strange, unreadable look on your face, and feels the jolt of a thousand volts carry down his fingers and into his shoulder. Where your fingers made contact you leave a sensation not unlike carpet burn.

“These are pretty,” you tell him, gently pulling the flowers from his grip. The cellophane crinkles and it slowly brings him back to this, to you, and he nearly chokes on air.

He says your name, a pathetic sound followed by even more pathetic noises, and when you smile, tight-lipped just like him and brows turned down, he cracks, voice failing him as he stumbles.

“Get your boots off and meet me in the kitchen,” you say, your face unreadable as ever as you turn on your heels and step back through the open door he knows well.

You leave him bewildered, like a soldier in the wake of a bomb, but he eventually comes to and does as you say. He debates leaving them outside, to cause you the least bother possible, but decides instead to leave them on one of the towels by the door.

His socks are soggy, slipping on the hardwood as he treads softly through your home. The reaction his gut is having to being here is ugly, so he breathes in slowly through his nose and wipes rainwater off his cheek with the back of his hand.

You’ve got your back to him, standing over the sink. At first he thinks you’re sorting the flowers, the way you always do - wrapping off, stalks trimmed, vase filled - but then he sees that, instead, you’re gripping the porcelain. White-knuckled.

For the first time he gets a look at you, or the back of you at least, because he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard him come around the corner. You’re much the same as before, except for the way you’ve cut your hair, and the fact that he remembers you in pretty sundresses and tennis shoes but it’s December, so you’re bundled in a jumper and sweats.

“I, uh-” He stammers, words catching on the edges of his teeth. He says your name again and watches you flinch. “It’s- It’s been so long, I-”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shoulders relaxing and grip loosening. You turn and lean back on the sink with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Just so you know,” he starts, and he can feel it, the fucking sarcastic tone that he can’t seem to shake. It comes out whenever he has to be genuine and it’s like someone else somewhere is pushing his buttons, controlling what comes out of his mouth. “-it’s been the, uh, the longest six months I think... ever.”

You look at him, more than familiar with this tone and this game.

“Yeah,” you say again.

“I don’t really know how to-”

“Eddie,” you bite, words like venom. “Can I ask you a question?”

As he nods his head, a little bemused, you gesture to the kitchen table. He catches on and sits at the chair closest to the door as you mirror him on the chair opposite.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

You rest your crossed arms on the table and lean on them, peering at him.

He breathes in slowly.

“To apologise.”

You scoff and he flinches, recoiling at the sound.

“And how’s this one gonna be different to the other hundred apologies?” You spit the word, as though it bears no meaning. At this point, and when it comes to Eddie, it almost doesn't.

That’s fair, he thinks.

“You are such a fucking jackass, Eddie Munson,” Robin barks, raising her arms in defeat. She’s pacing the aisles of Family Video while he sits on the counter and Steve loiters behind it, sorting tapes. “A jackass, seriously!”

“I get it, Rob, thanks,” he drones.

“No,” she snaps, feet finally finished being aimless and instead marching her over to him. She stands somewhere close to between his knees and if it weren’t Robin and she weren’t about to grill him for all he’s worth, it might be endearing.

She jabs her index finger into his chest, straight to the centre of his sternum.

“You’re a piece of shit. An asshole. A douchebag. And I’m allowed to call you all of these things because it’s me who gets the phone calls at two in the morning when she’s crying over you. Again.”

He drops his gaze, his hair covering her wrist and his face.

“Why’d you do it, dude?” Steve asks from behind him. “Like… I just don’t see the… Goal, or whatever.”

Eddie groans and tips his head back, staring uncomfortably at the ceiling tiles.

He wonders for a brief moment, before answering, why the two of them are still friends with him. Clearly his end goal is being as inaccessible as possible, keeping everyone at such a far distance at all times that he can never feel remorse, or that he’s letting anyone down. But now he’s here, with his friends, and he’s let them down and, worst of all, let you down, too. More than ever.

“I was trying to make it better,” he says, and the jab to the sternum comes harder this time, and is the full brunt of Robin’s fist rather than her finger.

“That is bullshit,” she says.

“I was!” he maintains, exasperated. “I just… I started trying to explain myself and I just couldn’t tell the truth.”

“So instead you told her you never want to see her again?!”

“I-”

“How does that help literally anything?!”

Robin’s right, of course. She’s always right; too smart for her own good, Eddie’s always thought. But he doesn’t have an answer for her.

“She’s better off that way anyway,” he says, sighing.

He blinks at you, studying your stern expression, before answering.

“I wanna be honest with you,” he begins, “like, actually this time. And I know it’s been ages and that I have been…”

“Awful,” you suggest.

“Yeah, awful-”

“An asshole. The worst. Evil. Cruel. Mean.”

“Right,” he says, nodding limply. “Yeah. That.”

You lean back, arms still crossed like armour.

“I want to get this right,” he admits, surprising himself, “and I’m trying to work out how.”

You also seem taken aback by this, brows raising just a bit, your eyes going wide. You don’t say anything, though.

“I want you to know how sorry I am,” he continues. He’s sitting rigid in his seat and can’t find something to occupy his fingers, so he begins twisting a ring around one of them. “But, like, I don’t know how to get that across… The flowers were, uh, step one, and this is step two… I, uh…”

He’s stumbling again, searching for the words in a sea of insecurity and unsteadiness. You wait, sitting still and breathing shallow.

“I think I- I was scared.”

“Of what?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He was expecting a vast silence that he would have to fill with pleas, excuses, sorries and truths. He thought you’d leave him to it and let him down slowly at the end.

“Uh, of you. Of us, I guess.”

“What?”

He leans forward finally, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how to-”

“Try,” you say flatly.

He looks up at you, unsure.

“Try to explain it. You haven’t even tried.”

Deep, heavy breath in.

“Eddie, you can’t, I don’t-”

“Fucking stop it,” he bites, arrowhead words ripping you open.

“I don’t understand,” you try again, voice thick with tears and your throat closing in. In fact, everything is closing in.

He’s leaving.

“Exactly,” he spits, pulling his shirt on. “Just… I’m going.”

“But-”

He’s out of the door, jacket in arm, before you can protest any further. Your mind is racing, spinning out in search of something that you could have done to fix this, or else something you could have done to cause this.

But you’re coming up empty, because you’d spent the day the same as any other day this summer: in your bed, entwined, wayward fingers and lazy kisses. Sweet nothings splashed in whispers across bare skin, and-

Oh, you think. Oh.

“When you said you loved me,” he begins, wincing at his own honesty, “I just… I freaked, it was scary. I… Honestly, the main problem here is that I was fucking scared. I am scared. I don’t know how to… How to love, or whatever… How to do it right and not hurt you, or me, or both of us. I’m useless, it’s why I’ve never bothered before and I knew, even before we started hooking up, that-”

“Hooking up?”

He looks at you, pulling his eyes back from their wandering, to find you bitter and your face contorted in disgust.

“You call that hooking up?”

“I mean- I-”

“If you think we were hooking up, that’s bad enough, Eddie. Hook ups don’t last three months.”

“No,” he sighs. “They don’t. I think I’m… Trying to make myself feel better about it.”

“You don’t deserve that,” you tell him, and though it’s cutting and it should hurt, your voice is so kind so suddenly that he can’t help but lean into it, tugging gently on the hands of care it extends to him. “You left me, after months of stringing me along. I was basically your girlfriend, without the labels or whatever. There isn’t another word for what we were.”

“No,” he agrees, dwelling for a moment too long on those moments of domesticity, the quiet mornings drinking coffee on your front lawn, the afternoons spent hanging the laundry and throwing stray socks at one another. “And that was fucking scary. I was way too scared, when you said you loved me that morning, way too scared to admit what I really, really wanted.”

“Which was?” you ask, arms still firmly crossed.

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You know what I-”

“Say it.”

“You-

“Say it.”

He breathes, defeated, and looks at you dead in the eye.

“I love you,” he tells you. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

You deflate, your arms going lax, face surprised as though you didn’t expect him to actually do it, to rise to your challenge and be honest. For a flash, he feels smug, but then he remembers-

“I love you,” he repeats - the feeling of the words rolling off his tongue is unbearable, they’re too heavy, they won’t stop falling - “but you deserve better than me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in frustration.

“Why are you here then?”

“What?”

“If I deserve better than you,” you repeat, finally releasing the tightness of your crossed arms and planting your palms on your knees, “why are you here? To torture me? Not satisfied with the last six fucking months, huh?”

“No, I-”

“Well, Eddie-” You spit his name like it’s gone bad and it twists something inside him. “-I’m fucking fed up of you and your… How mean you are. You’re always so mean to me and I hate that I cried over you for weeks-”

The door swings open and Robin rushes inside, expression tight with fear and worry.

She calls your name in a tone that drips affection as she rounds on you, where you’re standing with your weight on the wall and a hand over your face. By now it’s puffy and uncomfortable, your cheeks raw from wiping them with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“What happened?” she asks, holding you like you’re about to break and moving you across your house to the couch. “Did you argue? Or-”

“He left, Robs. Just left.” You sigh and it heaves like you’re sat under a crate of bricks. Robin’s heart aches, nearly cracks in two at the sight of you and the fury she feels for her stupid, good-for-nothing metalhead friend.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, wrapping you up in strong arms. As she rocks you, you cry, and she kisses the crown of your head and tells you, without much belief in it herself, that it’ll be okay.

“Steve’s on his way,” she says after ten or fifteen minutes.

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“We’re gonna stay here,” she says quickly, “just for tonight.”

You look at her, eyes glassy, and as you speak your voice cracks. “I love him, Rob.”

She looks back at you sadly, fingers gripping your hands. “I know.”

You’re on your feet now, pacing back and forth and he’s watching, transfixed, as your shoulders move up and down, powered by rage, understandably.

“-I cried so much because I had spent weeks working up the courage to say that to you, to admit it to you and to myself because you’re so cold, Eddie. You’re so cold and distant and I still managed to fall in love with you.”

It’s at this point that Eddie’s drifting eye, which is following you back and forth, lands on the cluster of picture frames on your windowsill. He recognises most of them - photos of the group of you, up by the lake or in Chicago, some of your family and others at special occasions. But one of them calls to him loud enough to pull his eye from you completely.

It’s a silly frame he found at the thrift store. It’s hand-painted in gaudy colours, brush strokes in swirls and bursts of yellow and purple and green. And behind the glass is a picture Wayne had taken one day when you were at his trailer, watching movies on the couch.

It’s a polaroid, as most of your photos are, bright cracks of colour and light caused by the window right by his head - his head which is looking straight ahead, big wide grin and happy eyes, and you beside him, hands on one of his thighs, pushing yourself up to kiss his cheek.

It’s only when you stop pacing and, more noticeably, stop talking that he realises anything is wrong. His face is wet and there are new drops of water on the table - not the drying rainwater from his hair, but one or two drips from his jaw.

“Are you crying?” you ask, hands on your hips.

“Huh?” He asks, wiping his face with his wrist. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just-”

His eyes flicker upwards and past you, to somewhere you follow with your own gaze. It lands on the photo and you start, cheeks flushing warm.

Suddenly, the anger lingering in the room, filling the air and his lungs and almost definitely yours, dissipates. It doesn’t disappear as such - you’re still seething, breathing loudly, but it’s like someone cracked a whip and the dust lifted.

He calls your name and you look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you earnestly. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You breathe out slowly and he watches your chest deflate as you take a step to sit back down. As you sit he rises, stepping over to you on unsure feet. He’s tentative, waiting - expecting - an adverse reaction.

You watch him as he gets closer and lowers himself to the ground.

“You are not about to-”

“I’m not getting on my knees, if that’s what you’re gonna say,” he says, and his tone is light - too light for his liking, but he catches the twitch in the corner of your mouth and something warm blooms in one of the chambers of his heart.

He squats beside you, resting his weight on one hand on the table. He keeps the other to himself, fingers spread over his bent knee.

“I’m an asshole. In fact, I’ve been all of those things you said, and I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry enough for you. But I… I’ve had all this time, and some… intense conversations with Rob and Steve, and I… I want to try to be sorry enough. Or to just make it up to you, somehow. Because I can’t… It’s too hard, doing all of this without you.”

He knows how this must look, him on the ground, soggy socks and soggier hair, staring at you like a lost puppy. But the way your eyes soften, and the familiar feeling of the brush of your fingertips over the damp skin of his bare wrist, is enough to make him go limp.

“What’d they say?” you ask him, watching your own fingers where they trace aimless strokes.

“Hm?”

“Rob and Steve. What’d they say?”

He laughs lightly, embarrassed.

“Uh, that I’m an asshole. In fact, Rob, she made sure to tell me that multiple times. Basically every time I saw her. And Steve, he… He’s such a good dude, you know? But I… I disappointed them, and myself, and you. I hurt you so bad and I don’t know where to put all this guilt I have.”

Neither of you are looking at one another, but you chuckle, thinking about Robin. Her loyalty makes your head spin. And Steve, with his heart of gold, who held you all those times you cried and fought silently between his anger at Eddie and his love for you.

“I love them,” you whisper, your fingers halting. The pad of your thumb hovers over the protruding joint, stroking it softly until you feel the thrum of his pulse under your own. Your fingers wrap the opposite way, until you’re holding his arm like a bracelet.

You squeeze and he sucks a quick breath in.

“You really hurt me, Eddie,” you tell him, lifting his arm off the table. He wobbles and uses his free hand to steady himself on your chair, the knuckle of his thumb meeting the side of your thigh for just a second. You manoeuvre his hand into your lap, where you lay it flat. You both stare at it and all he can hear is your breathing and the rush of blood past his ears.

“I know I did,” he says. “I can go, if you want.”

You hum and begin tracing the lines on his palm. “It’s gonna take a while,” you say.

“What is?”

“Making it up to me.”

His eyes move without permission to your face, where he finds a barely-there smile and the beginnings of the crows feet by your eyes.

“Forever,” he says, knowing you’re right - it’ll take a long, long time.

“Forever.”

“I must’ve been crazy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Hm?”

Your fingers are still now, resting on his, and he finally moves his own. His knees are burning from squatting and the balls of his feet are digging into something sharp under the linoleum, but he’s not thinking too hard about any of it. He takes your hands in his and holds them, backs of your palms to the front of his. He dips his head and kisses your left wrist and then your right, lingering to feel the thump of your heart.

“I am crazy,” he says. “I let you go.”

“You left me,” you correct him. “I never wanted to go.”

He looks up at you and pales when he sees the tears. Your eyes are wet and red round the edges and he thinks to himself that you’ve been doing this, crying over him, for six months. And it’s his fault.

The two of you move quickly and without thought. His knees buckle, giving into the strain he’s been putting on them for so long, and as he hits the floor he tightens his grip on you without meaning to. You’re pulled off your chair with a yelp and a clatter, landing in his lap with your knee dangerously close to his crotch.

Hands paw and wipe tears and you lift your leg to plant it beside him. As you stabilise yourself his arms come around you, too quickly at first; so quick he worries you’ll push him off, tell him to go fuck himself. They’re met by yours, though, coming around his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

You say nothing, and instead push your face further into his shoulder.

He feels and hears you sniffling, so he pulls you back gently. Some of his hair sticks to your face and you wipe your nose unceremoniously with the back of your hand, scoffing at him when you see he’s smiling at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him, looking away.

“Like what?”

“Like… That.”

“I don’t-”

“You have that look,” you say, groaning. And then you reach up to hold his face, and he caves, bowing into you in every way he can. “You’re so fucking pretty and it’s the worst.”

“You’re one to talk,” he tells you, enjoying the way you flush.

“Always the charmer.”

“It’s true,” he says. “Never seen anyone as pretty as you.”

He leans into your palm and twists just so, lips brushing the heel of it in a quick kiss.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you tell him, your smile deceiving you only slightly.

“I know,” he says. “But it might help me.”

You’ve been inching closer to his face, and now you’re all he sees. You’ve taken up his field of vision, your breath brushing past the end of his nose.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Wow,” you laugh, “Steve taught you how to be a gentleman since I last saw you or somethin’?”

“Stop- You’re ruining this.”

“Sorry,” you say, still laughing. “You were just never the kind to be so… chivalrous.”

“I’m hardly being chivalrous,” he says, matching your smile. “But now you mention it, yeah, actually.”

You lean back only slightly but it’s enough to make him deflate, unhappy at the new distance.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean… I was an asshole, as we’ve established. Needed to learn my manners again.”

“What did he say?”

“Can we please talk about this later? I just wanna-”

“No,” you say, grinning now. “I want to know.”

He groans, the hand he has spread across your back to hold you up tensing.

“I dunno, he just… He really did a number on me, y’know, telling me how I did everythin’ wrong and that I…”

He’s gone coy and you’re relishing in it.

“You what?”

“I… Steve called me a fuckboy.”

You bark out a laugh so loud Eddie flinches, but then he watches as you carry on laughing, nearly bent double, eyes all crinkled just the way he likes, the way he’s missed terribly.

“What’s so funny?!”

“It’s true,” you say. “It’s so true! Robin, Steve, I mean, we love you, obviously, you’re our friend, but like… They did say when you and me started, y’know… That I was in for it, that you’d break my heart, and I told them they were crazy ‘cause it was just sex, right? But then I realised maybe it wasn’t just sex, when you basically started living here, and we were more like… I dunno, like a couple… But they were right!”

He looks at you, aghast.

“They told you all of that?”

“Yeah! I mean, they were right, huh?”

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know it was that bad, that they’d be able to notice that kinda thing.”

“You know,” you say, fingers tapping patterns up his chest. “Steve told me somethin’ else, a few months back.”

“Oh, god,” he groans, mind reeling through the thousands of things this could be.

“It’s not bad,” you say. “Well, it’s not one of the bad things. There were still bad things.”

“Right.”

“He said… He said he’s known you for, what, like three years now? And in all that time, before you and me met, you’d always have different girls, were known as a bit of a player at school…”

“Christ, okay.”

“But after you left me, Steve said he’d never seen you be so… Alone.”

Eddie looks at you in shock, so frightened by what else Steve may have said, but also by how you’re relaying this to him. Calm, stoic, unfeeling.

“I mean… I haven’t, y’know, slept with anyone else, if that’s what you-”

“I know,” you say. “I just… It makes it feel more real, you know?”

“I know I’m gonna be spending the rest of my life making sure you know I’m sorry,” he says, breathing out through his nose slowly, “but I mean it. I’ll do it. For the rest of my life. There isn’t anyone else. I’ll forego women, relationships, whatever… ‘Cause I won’t have time. Will be too busy makin’ it up to you.”

He noses at your neck, trying with everything he has to hold himself back from kissing you. The air around the two of you feels thick with laboured breaths and unsaid things - so many unsaid things, things he’ll tell you one day and other things he’s sure he’ll hear from you.

“So can I?” he murmurs into the warm skin above your collarbone, lips only a hair from making contact.

He feels your fingers come around the back of his neck, taking root at the nape where his hair starts. They curl around it, tugging him up, and then you do the dance - the one that always happened between the two of you in these moments. You dip in, so close, and back out, ebbing like a riverbank. It drives him crazy and he knows that you know it, so he smiles, and it’s only then that you finally kiss him.

As you move against him, lips and hands and chest and thighs, he lets his eyes close and his tongue move with yours, and thinks that this - kissing you - is much better when he’s being honest.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things eddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie fanfic #stranger things season 4 #st4 #robin buckley #steve harrington

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milaisreading · 1 year

Note

I just found your account when you started posting the blue lock managers posts and I instantly followed and turn notifications on-

I was debating on requesting something but was nervous ehe😅

But if possible can you write something about manager having a like a obsessive fan of some sort that is always trying to get into the blue lock facility somehow to see her? I just wanna know what the bllk/u-20/egoist will do/react to that- especially the possessive(imo) ones(rin/sae/barou/Kaiser/ness etc) I feel like they will be very overprotective and threaten the person ngl-

Sorry if it doesn’t make sense- It made more sense in my brain but ya🤣 can’t ignore if too complicated!

Author: I like the idea and idk if I will be doing more parts to this, I will leave it up to you all, but I will go for now wit the characters you suggested. Thanks for the request🩷

Warnings ⚠️: Reader uses she/her. Mentions of blood and stalking. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

'BATHROOM!' (Y/n) yelled in her head as she ran down the hallway. The whole morning she was trying to find an excuse to leave the training ground, but was stopped either by one of the coaches or by one of the boys who were making the most random requests. Now she found an escape in the form of Shion pissing Rin off, and while everyone was busy watching them, she escaped the room. Before she opened the bathroom door though, (Y/n) felt some weird shivers go down her spine and she looked around the place.

'Is someone... watching me? No, nobody is here. I think I just lack sleep.' She shook her head and walked inside.

'She looks even prettier in real life than on TV.' A figure thought as they watched (Y/n) from behind the corner of the hallway.

'It took me so long to finally get to her, and now she is finally within my reach. Thank God they didn't control who are the real staff members and who the fake ones are.' The boy giggled as he observed the bathroom door.

'She will finally be mine!'

The boy smiled as he noticed the door open and he quickly ran over to the door.

"Finally." The girl sighed, ready to return to her duties when a unfamiliar voice called out for her.

"(Y/n)~"

"Ha?" The girl turned around quickly, only to come face to face with a staff member she never met.

"Wh...who are you?" (Y/n) gulped, noticing the crazy look in his eyes.

"I am your biggest fan~ I came here to rescue you from this place. Full of filth and people who don't deserve your presence." The boy giggled as (Y/n) grew nauseous, noticing she has really no way to escape him.

'What now?!'

"I-I seriously don't know who you are. Please leave this place, I promise I won't tell anyone about this-"

"No! You don't understand!" The boy yelled, growing angry at her protests and grabbed her shoulders.

"Do you not see how this isn't for you?! You shouldn't be fulfilling wishes of these germs! I know what's best for you and your best is to be with me!"

"I don't even know you!" (Y/n) yelled, flinching as his grip tightened.

"That's ok... we have all the time in the world to get to know each other-"

"What the fuck?!" A new voice appeared and (Y/n) felt the soul leave her body as she looked at the figure in front of them.

Rin:

'R-Rin...' (Y/n) thought as she looked at the teal-eyed boy, who looked ready to murder the boy holding (Y/n).

"The hell are you doing with my manager, lukewarm?! Let her go!" Rin ordered as he walked closer to the boy.

"Is this really who you want to stay with? You would be treated way better if you were with me." The boy said as he looked at the horrified girl. Somethings snapped in Rin as he heard those words.

'Some... some nobody thinks he can take (Y/n) away from me? And treat her better?'

Rage bubbled up inside of him and he punched the guy in the face, causing him to let go of (Y/n) and fall to the ground.

Using this opportunity, (Y/n) ran behind Rin.

"What us going on here?!"

"What's with the loud noises?" Two other staff members ran over and looked at the trio, horrified at the scene.

"Take this asshole away from here before I do it myself. He tried to kidnap (Y/n)." Rin said in a threatening manner and took the boy away.

Once gone, Rin seemed to have calmed down a little and turned to look at (Y/n), who was still in shock.

'That asshole... should have punched him harder. But now I have to focus on her.'

"Come on, let's calm you down first." Rin said, picking the girl up and walking towards the medic room.

"B-but your training-"

"It can wait. Just relax, it's only me here. Nothing will happen to you." Rin said in a softer tone as (Y/n) nodded her head, easing up a little bit.

"Thank you, Rin." She said softly, laying her head on his shoulder. The boy sighed and looked at the path in front of himself.

'I will protect you... no matter what. A nobody will not take you from me.'

Sae:

Now Sae was always a calm person and tried not to lose his temper in front of (Y/n) of all people, to show her he was mature and thought with his brain. But something just snapped in him and the rational part flew out the window when he saw a literal nobody grabbing onto the girl and scaring her to the point where she started crying. The older Itoshi lost every piece of self control at the proclamation the guy made and in a matter of seconds he was on the ground, passed out as Sae stood over him with a bloody knuckle. Sae seemed to have not noticed how strong his one swing was, strong enough to break some of his skin off.

"What the..." one of the security guards muttered as he looked between the three.

"He... uh... he..." (Y/n) stuttered, still in a daze from the previous events, but the guard seemed to have understood what had happened.

Once the guy was carried away, Sae seemed to have calmed down a little.

'He dared to touch her...that nobody touched her... I will kill him.' Sae's eyes narrowed as he tried to walk after them, but was stopped by (Y/n).

"S-Sae... your hand is... we need to treat it."

The boy looked at (Y/n), his eyes softening as he saw her worried look.

"It's nothing, it doesn't even hurt. It would have hurt more if that maniac had hurt you." Sae shook it off.

"Still, come on it will get infected. We can't gave you returning to Spain with wounds from a fight." (Y/n) tried to joke, but Sae didn't like it.

'It was for your safety.'

The older Itoshi put a hand on her head and gave her a small smile.

"I don't mind, as long as it's for you, these wounds don't hurt."

"Sae..." (Y/n)'s eyes widened at those words.

Shidou:

Bow Shidou was known for a lot of things, a great football player, aggressive when playing, questionable behavior at times and also for being very protective of the ones he holds close to his heart. So it came to no surprise to anyone when he stomped over to where (Y/n) and the unknown guy were, grabbed him by his collar and threw him away.

'It looked like he did it with 0 effort too.' (Y/n) thought with wide eyes as Shidou stood in front of her, shielding her form from the guy.

"It seems like some bottomfeeder forgot his place here. Who are you to come here and touch (Y/n) like that? Trash like you can just watch her from a distance."

Shidou said, his grin making his whole presence even more ominous than it already was.

"Who I am? I am the only one of you freaks who will know how to treat my (Y/n) right, you all don't even deserve her." The boy argued back.

"My (Y/n)? You seem to want those teeth knocked out, huh?" Shidou grinned wider, scaring the boy as he cracked his knuckles.

"Shidou... just call a guard... please." The blonde stopped in his tracks and looked over at (Y/n), his eyes widening when he noticed the tears running down her face.

'I will kill him one day. He deserves the worst pain.'

"Alright." Shidou said, picking the boy up by his collar.

"You are lucky she is here now... but don't worry, you will meet my fists very soon." Shidou whispered to the boy, who looked ready to throw up.

Kaiser:

For Kaiser the highlight of visiting Japan is pissing Isagi off and take (Y/n) away from the group to spend some alone time with her. During that time he would try to get her to come back to Germany with him, and so far it didn't really work. With that being said l, Kaiser had always his eyes on (Y/n)'sform, at any time. So when he noticed her leave, Kaiser decided to wait it out for a few minutes and then went to look for (Y/n), and he sure regretted waiting for so long after the scene he witnessed.

"I will teach you a lesson on touching my girl. You little piece of shit." Kaiser whispered as he punched the guy for the 3rd time, a wide smile on his face when he noticed the blood running down his face.

'I will kill him! I will kill him-'

"K-kaiser! Please stop... you will get hurt."

The boy looked away from the passed out one and looked at (Y/n). The worried and horrified look on her seemed to call him down and he sighed, getting up and walking to her.

"But I need to teach him a lesson. Didn't he scare you and touch you?" Kaiser questioned, trying to keep his cool as he remembered the scene.

"H-he did... but it's not worth to hurt yourself because of it. I already called a security guard. Come on, I need to clean up your hand." The boy seemed to have had an epiphany and he pulled the girl into a hug.

'Mine.' Be thought as his grip tightened on her.

Ness:

Now Ness was generally a calm guy, unless you insulted (Y/n) or Kaiser, then he will go full on mental. And while he kept that side hidden from (Y/n), he just couldn't do it now. Because when Ness saw the creep touching her and causing her distress, he was ready to commit murder.

'That bastard.' Ness smiled tightly and walk up to the duo.

"What... what do you want, freak?" The guy questioned, but got no answer in return. Instead, Ness grabbed the man's jacket and pulled him away.

"I will be back in a minute." The magenta-eyed boy said to (Y/n), who said nothing in return.

"What is it? Just say something, pig?" The boy said glaring up at Ness, who laughed and moved closer to the boy.

"Listen up, you piece of trash. Just because I am calm now doesn't mean that's how I feel. If I ever see your ugly self near my angel, I will make sure not even your own family will recognize you, once they find your body. (Y/n) is off limits for everyone, especially you." Ness whispered into the boy's ear and then moved away, satisfied with the pale look he caused him.

"Now, scram." Ness said in a low tone as his smile turned into a frown.

"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you?" Ness asked once he got back to (Y/n). The girl shook her head and wiped some of the tears away.

"No, I am fine. What about you?"

"I am alright, don't worry about me. Now, let's get you out to calm down a little. I know just the spot for it." Ness smiled and pulled (Y/n) along.

"Thank you, Ness." The girl said as the boy shook his head.

"It was nothing."

#blue lock anime #bllk x reader #blue lock manga #bllk #blue lock requests #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock shidou #shidou ryuusei x reader #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader #manager reader #blue lock x reader

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guardian5tiger3 · 4 months

Text

Pick a Group Tarot !

What's up ?

1. 2. 3.

Group 1 .

I'm actually picking up on past energy, like maybe 2000's , early 2010's .? It depends for everyone, the point is it's a message about the past, your past self. Something about your future has something to do with your past. Ok, of course. I mean, it's being suggested that you should go back in time, enjoy stuff you used to like that might make you nostalgic. Music, shows, movies, anything really. Especially around middle school age . Once again, it depends , but for a lot of you that's about the age I'm talking about, I believe. For some of you this is way off lol. The point is to relive some stuff from your past, bring back some memories. It'll open up your heart somehow. You'll feel a lot about it if you do, and find the right stuff. It may motivate you and give you a lot of energy moving forward. Hell. Yah. You guys. What more needs to be said. This is a sweet reading , if you ask me. A lot of you come up with so many questions and thoughts, yo why not just take the advice and try it out and if it works it works. Okay some of you are kind of struggling right now. For whatever reason, though, this is what I'm supposed to tell you. In general what spirit wants for you is to open your heart up and feel in your heart. Also weirdly specific but, something about a croissant.

Group 2.

Y'all need to be strong within yourselves at this time , maybe even more than usual. I'm getting this could very well be socially especially or for some in a work environment. Why am I picking up on a movie theatre. Mainly the popcorn. You guys seem like you're just kinda waiting for something to happen, and you're hoping this something happens, and it's good I'm seeing that you guys are dreaming big and stuff ya know.

Ohhhhhh. Y'all know what. Some of you need to maybe rethink a situation you rejected cause you're wanting someone specific and waiting for that. You literally might have just walked right past exactly what you want deep down lol. You guys!!!!! W.t.f. lol. Take your time to think about stuff and reflect. You may not even know what or who I'm talking about . Y'all gonna have to sit back for a while and contemplate maybe. Maybe you have too many standards or ideas but the universe knows what you want and need even more than you do. Dude I see this being a raw blessing. Y'all lmaoo!!! Serious. It may not seem appealing cause of whatever you've been taught to think or just your perception at first, but I'm telling you!!! Just, think about it, ok. You guys seem great by the way, good vibes. Just a little judgemental maybe. But I mainly feel lighthearted. I think that's lowkey your true natures, so, yeah. Peace and love ya goobers. Dang.

Group 3 .

You guys, sometimes you don't actually have to literally win the game to win the game. Sometimes playing the game and enjoying the game is where you really win, at the end of the day. Y'all get what I'm saying? Don't be too serious, don't be too hard on yourself or anyone else. You might need to have some heart healing taking place. Someone must have been harsh to you at some point in your life. You just need to reflect on that if that's the case, maybe and be nice to yourself and rebel against that. I'm also picking up the general concept of becoming your own best friend , being an appreciable character personality. Mainly a lot of what I'm getting is just reteaching yourself to be nice to yourself and enforcing respect on ya name. If you might be a little scared of personal development in some specific way though you know deep down it's good for you, know I can sense people will actually like and enjoy you even more afterwards.!

#free tarot readings #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot reading #pac #pick a card #tarot pac #pac tarot

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Note

bingo square: out of their league with tasm!peter using prompt 3.

i know one of the things about peter is he’s unaware of how appealing he is but i have idea stuck in my head

you and peter having been dating for a bit and you’re only familiar with his friends and vice versa like you guys know of each other and have exchanged greetings in passing but have never had the opportunity to get to know you

so when the opportunity does present itself (maybe at a party?) they’re stunned by everything they’ve learned about you and your personality basically a ‘woah our friend is great but your woah’ and he gets somewhat possessive and jealous

i like the idea of sitting on peter’s lap and teasing him until he lets you cockwarm him or the party dies down and barely anyone is there and he fucks you with his friends hearing (or watching 👀) and it ends with you leading him out the door to go home and your both marked up with hickeys and he has your lipstick on him + peter telling his friends that he knows he got lucky and how it’s something they’ll never about

—𓆩[cupid’s arrow]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Rich! Cheerleader! Girlfriend! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst?

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were surprised when you found out that Peter fucking Parker was single, and you quickly fixed that. It was a surprise to everyone, especially him, when they found out you were interested in him - the head cheerleader and a physics nerd? Even then though, when a party occurs and his friends get to know more about you and think you’re so fucking cool — a wasted Peter gets jealous of how much they have your attention.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing & foul language || definitely mixed up multiverses with friends, and added more || reader is reader wears makeup and revealing clothing || the nerd and the cheerleader trope has my heart || reader calls father ‘daddy’ nonsexually || party || shotgunning || reader smokes || drugs and alcohol || Peter really gets into this party mood because you’re having so much fun, therefore he gets wasted because he drinks and smokes || public groping & grinding || cock warming in public || slight voyeurism and exhibitionism? || marking kink || creampie || riding || multiple orgasms || multiple positions ||

“I think… we should go eat here for lunch,” you suggest, looking up at him as he stares down at you, the glasses on his face falling down his nose making you giggle, pushing them up. “Sounds good, right? I know high-end isn’t really your scene, but daddy’s friend just opened it up and the sushi looks like it’s to die for.”

“I-I uhm… I think that sounds good, I just got paid so-” he paused when you started giggling, looking down at you confused. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to pay, sweetie. I don’t even have to pay, daddy has a tab there and we can get whatever we want. Besides, I have no practice today, so we have time!”

He smiled, but sighs. “When do I get to treat you, hm? It’s… it’s not fair. We always go to your house, your spots… I don’t get to do anything for you.”

You sit up, your shirt riding up your tummy and your skirt exposing your thighs. “What do you mean? Am… am I doing something wrong? I-I know I have problems with taking over things, am I doing that? I’m sorry-”

He shakes his head, quickly cupping your face. “No honey, of course not… it’s just, I don’t think it’s fair. I never get to spoil you… or bring you to my apartment or buy you lunch… Does that make you annoyed? Do I do enough for you?”

You stare at him, jaw slack before you start to laugh. “Peter! Are you insane?! I love you, I don’t care how much you spend on me, I like spending on you. I love going to your apartment, I love Aunt May, but I just like taking you to my house because we have more privacy. I like you living with me, don’t you want to move in with me? I’ve been meaning to ask you that…”

Peter pauses, staring at you. “You want me to move in with you?”

You giggle. “Well yeah… we’ve known each other for years, been dating for two… it’s not that weird, is it?”

He shook his head. “N-No, but… if I move in with you, I need to help with your bills and stuff. I’m not going to let you pay for everything.”

You laugh. “Peter, why would I let you pay for something I don’t even pay for? You… just have to stay with me,” you slowly move to sit in his lap, pushing back his hair as you giggled. “And love me. Besides, you would be the best boyfriend ever if you moved in with me.”

He hummed, nodding as he pulled you closer. “I will, honey, I will. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You giggle, tugging on his hair. You had him wrapped around your finger, and you loved it just as much as you loved him. You pulled him closer, about to press a kiss to his lips before someone yelled his name. “Peter? Peter, oh my god, hey!”

You pulled away, smiling when you saw Gwen. “Oh, it’s Gwen. You should talk to her, invite your friends out to lunch with us!”

Peter almost groaned when he saw Gwen, Ned, MJ, and Harry walking toward them. He loved them, he did, but fuck could they leave? He was about to be kissed by you until he couldn’t breathe and your lipstick stained his lips, could they go? “Oh, hey guys!”

“Peter, we haven’t seen you in a while! Hey Y/N!” Gwen looks at you as you pull your legs under your butt, smiling at her.

“Hey Gwen! How are you guys, have y’all eaten lunch? Peter and I were just about to go.”

“Oh no, we just came from lunch, but thank you! How are y’all?” She sits down, the rest following as you shrug.

“We’re good! Peter and I were just talking about how he’s going to move in with me soon” you answer, humming. “I’m thinking next Friday. Oh, and we can have a party too! You guys should come, it’s going to be a… Peter's welcome party!”

MJ hummed. “You like to party, don’t you?”

“Oh who doesn't!” You giggled, humming. “It’ll be great! Besides, my parties are always the best, you guys should really come!”

Peter smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I know it’s been a while since we’ve all gone to a party together… what do y’all think?”

Gwen hums, looking back at everyone as they nod. “Okay! We’ll come.”

You smiled, looking back at Peter. “Perfect.”

It didn’t take Peter long to move in. Aunt May was happy he was getting out of the house, and you were even more happy to have him living with you. He was sleeping in your now shared bed every night, sometimes with his cock shoved deep inside of your cunt and twisting up your guts from how big he was.

Tonight though was Peter Parker’s Welcome Home party. He was home, finally he was home with you, where you have wanted him since you both started dating. Your now shared house was filled with sweaty teens, drunk or high off their asses as you sat with Peter and his friends in the living room, giggling along with Gwen as you held a joint between your fingers.

“You’re lying!” MJ was cackling as she clutched her book, staring at Peter. “Peter fucking Parker chased you down to ask for your number?”

“Yes!” You giggle, covering your mouth to hide your smile as Peter pressed his face into the back of your neck, slurring words into your skin before leaning into your hand and taking a long drag from the joint. “I told him he was hot at the subway station, then of course I had to catch my subway, and then he chased me all the way into the car and had to take a whole other subway to get back to where he wanted to go!”

Gwen laughs as Peter exhaled the smoke against your skin, your body hot even though so much skin was exposed in the skimpy dress you wore that barely went past down your ass and cut low on your chest, and even had a triangle piece of fabric missing from the bottom of your braless tits and lace black underwear. His hands ran along your bare skin as you giggled, leaning into his form as he started pressing lazy, open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Peter! Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N earlier, she’s amazing!” Ned laughed as you inhaled deeply with the joint in your mouth, mind going hazy before Peter pulled you back to kiss him.

You exhaled into his mouth, smoke flooding out from where your mouths weren’t connected and his hands groped at your tits. You groaned, humming as he took the joint from your fingers adorned with long acrylics and the base pressed to the thin satin that covered your tits.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Gwen voiced out, everyone agreeing as you pulled Peter closer.

You groaned against his lips as you tried to turn around, desperate for more of his kisses before he pulled away, his mouth smeared with your lipstick. It was your signature color, one you wore everyday, and it looked fucking amazing on him.

You looked down at the joint in his hand, the fact the two of you were almost done with it saying something. “Want some more, spider boy?” You whisper, grabbing his wrist and taking a long inhale before blowing it into his face and licking his fingers. You hummed loudly, sucking his middle finger into your mouth like a lollipop as you take the joint in your other hand, pulling his finger down your throat before pulling away and moving to his pointer, sucking on the tip before forcing yourself to gag on it, pulling away to see the thick string of saliva. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can have some more fun.”

This specific joint was the one you were saving. It wasn’t Peter’s first time, mainly because it didn’t affect him, but this one did because it was of higher quality and had certain things you had disclosed to him before. You told him it was called ‘Cupid’s Arrow’, a stupid name but one that suited the joint filled with aphrodisiacs and a cherry flavored strain and he agreed immediately because of how excited you were.

You didn’t smoke very often, only on special occasions, and today was one of them.

It didn’t take long for you both to finish the joint, Peter slipping the remainder into a drink next to him as your lips continued their assault on his own, tongue pushing into his mouth and lipstick smearing all over his lips. He whined as you pulled away, humming as you tilted your head back and his mouth pressed against your neck before you gasped.

“Peter! I love this song, come on!” You tugged him off the comfort of the couch, a smile on his stained lips even though his boner was on show before you tugged him in front of you to firmly press against your body. “Dance with me, Peter.”

You’re both pushed together even closer from the rest of the sweaty bodies around you, but they knew better than to get close to you and Peter. He turned you around, his hands holding your hips as he bent his knees to press his cock between your thighs, his erection poking into your soaked panties as your hands pushed behind your head to hold his and pull him even closer.

It doesn’t take long for the drugs to actually kick in, mixing with the alcohol, your body finally cooling down as you rocked your hips back into Peter’s. He groaned loudly into your ear, hands shaking as they pushed underneath the fabric that barely covered your chest, groping and letting his fingertips swipe over your hard nipples.

You groaned loudly as you tilted your head back, your body starting to grow hot as you rocked into him with urgency, the feeling of his large, blunt tip rubbing against your pussy too much to handle. You whined loudly as he pulled you closer, desperate to feel your body against his as you groaned into his mouth when he pulled you in for a kiss. He pulled away to press firm kisses to your neck, smearing the same lipstick he had on his lips against your skin as you pulled out that same golden, expensive tube and a handheld mirror to reapply it.

His reflection caught your eye, his mouth pressing firmly to your neck and sucking against your skin while groping at your tits from underneath your dress. You tilted your head back as you slip the tube and mirror back into the waistband of your dress, eyes rolling back as his thumbs slid over your hard nipples and his hot mouth sucking against your skin made everything hazy.

Neither of you registered the people around you, your mouth pressing kisses to his cheek before sucking hickies against his jaw, slight saltiness from the thin sheen of sweat on both of your bodies. Both of you were grinding against each other like there was no tomorrow, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clothed sex making your body even hotter.

“Fuck,” you cursed, groaning as he squeezed at your tits before slowly guiding you both back to the couch where you straddled his thighs and were quick to unbutton his pants. You tugged the zipper down as you set your lipstick and mirror down on the table as he easily slipped off your underwear, throwing it to the side as you pushed yourself up so you could guide his cock into you.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had raw sex, but it was definitely the first time you were both high off your asses. “Wait, wait,” you whisper, balancing yourself by holding his chest. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding vigorously. “More than okay. So much more than okay.”

You giggled as you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as he slowly pushed his cock between your legs, letting his blunt tip slide up and down your slit before finally pushing up into you. Your head falls back, groans echoing around the room as he bucked his hips.

You felt wetter than you’ve ever been, your cunt squelching as he slowly pushed into you, his face pressed against your neck as he groaned loudly. He gasped as you slowly began to sink down on him, your pretty face scrunched in all the right ways and tears pricking your eyes made him groan loudly, his hips bucking into you.

He didn’t even know that he came until you felt something inside of you, that same sticky feeling flooding down your thighs as you groaned, attempting to push lower on his cock as he grunted. “Did you just cum?”

He pauses, looking down. “I-I think so…”

“But you’re still hard?” You whispered, ducking down to kiss his neck and continue sucking on his skin. “Guess that Cupid’s Arrow really did something, huh baby?”

He hummed, nodding. “I swear, you feel so much fucking better than I could ever imagine. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s you, but I swear I can fucking feel everything.”

You giggled. “You’re sure it’s not your spidey senses?”

He groaned, shaking his head as he held your hips and angled his own to thrust up into you with a loud groan. “N-No, my… my spidey-sex-drive is up or something… I feel everything, your pussy clenching and all of your slick dripping down my cock… I swear I can feel you stretch out with every thrust. Please, please I need to fuck you so bad.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” You whisper, one of his hands pushing up the chest area of your dress and letting your tits fall out. He pauses his thrusting, making you whine, grabbing a folded blanket to throw it over your shoulders.

“I need more. Fucking hell, I need to feel as much as I can of you, but this body is only mine to see. You’re mine.”

You groaned into his ear, gasping as you held the back of his head, rocking your hips into his to match every thrust. You could barely think about anything else but his cock ramming into you, the almost infinite feeling of riding your orgasm making your mind blurry. Have you cum yet? Peter always knew when you came, he would feel a lightning bolt down his spine and would giggle softly, but with the amount he was shaking in pleasure you didn’t know.

You could feel his cock being easily let into your deepest parts, the aphrodisiacs must’ve had something to do with loosening you up and making arousal spew from you like a fountain. Or maybe it was cum? Who knew at this point, you couldn’t think of anything else but Peter who was covered in your lipstick and hickies, his cock buried inside of you, balls deep and his cum leaking out of your pussy before he pounded it straight back in.

He groaned into your neck, gasping as another shock ran down his back, his hands slamming you down on his cock as you panted into his ear. “F-Fuck, Y/N, I can’t stop… I can’t stop my hips, I can’t stop fucking you.”

You shake your head against his neck, whimpering. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Your body was hot, the only relief was his cock inside of you and you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon. You didn’t care that you both were fucking mid-party, it was your house, your couch, your boyfriend. If anyone had a problem with it, they could leave.

You gasped as he grabbed your hips, flipping the two of you over so you were on your back, his hands sliding a pillow under your hips to support you before going straight back to your tits. You groaned as you pushed your hands under his shirt, the blanket covering both of your bodies as his mouth stayed on yours, barely pulling away to even breathe.

Peter couldn’t help it, whatever the hell was in that joint made him infatuated. His hips thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to be inside of you as much as he could while you rocked your hips to match his thrusts, desperate to reach a climax in your high. You had cum at least three times from what Peter could actually process, but like him, the permanent high of ecstasy wasn’t enough when the both of you needed to hit that climax.

Your moans filled his ears as the couch started to creak, his mouth hot on your neck and collarbone to mark you up as though someone would try to take you. He couldn’t stop leaving all those hickies all over your body, how could he when everyone needed to know you belonged to him? Besides, after this and everyone seeing him fuck you until you saw stars, everyone would definitely know he was your boyfriend, soon to be fiancée as soon as he found the perfect ring for you.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your thrusts meeting his as his cock slammed into you, wet slaps and squelches filling the room that could’ve been full of spectators — not that either of you cared.

You didn’t know when he stopped, panting above you as you hold his head and rake your fingers through his hair, admiring the mess of hickies and lipstick marks that you left. You pulled him down for another firm kiss, humming as you pulled away and he followed your lips. “We should get a dog.”

He laughed, titling his head to the side to press kisses to your neck, seeing all of his friends in the corner gaping at you both. “Whatever you want, honey.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 month

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Bets & Bargains - Part 5

Series Masterlist

➪in which bradley finds something out about you that has him barely in control of himself, and he decides he needs to test something out before going forward with you.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were still reeling from the kiss you had with Bradley, even well into the next day.

Kissing his cheek was one thing, but feeling his lips against yours was something else entirely. You wanted more.

You didn’t get the chance to see him after class yesterday since your schedules were so different, but you didn’t mind since you two had been texting nonstop.

The texts you shared with Bradley were a nice refresher to the last few messages you shared with Luke, especially that last one he sent you that you didn’t even bother replying to. If he thought that the four years you were together were a waste of his time, then you wouldn’t give him another minute of yours by texting him back.

Your phone went off as you were walking to the gym that was a few blocks away from the campus, and you sipped on your coffee as you read Bradley’s latest text.

Fratley: It’s been over twenty four hours since I last saw you. Can we do something today? Pretty please?

You laugh and text him back with one hand as you reach the gym and use your key card to unlock the door to the room you rented for an hour.

I can’t right now, I’m teaching a yoga class in a few minutes. After?

Bradley read your text but instead of replying to it, he called you. “Why am I just now finding out that you teach a yoga class?” He asked as soon as you accepted the call.

You laugh and set your bag and mat down onto the floor. “Hello to you, too,”

“Hi. Why am I just now finding out that you teach a yoga class?” He repeats his question, making you laugh loudly as you sit down next to your bag.

“I don’t know,” you answer and look at your reflection in the mirror that was along the wall across the room. “It never came up, I guess.”

“Fuck,” he cursed and you laugh again, stretching your legs out in front of you and beginning your warmup while on the phone with him. “I should’ve asked you more about yourself. I had no idea you taught a yoga class. That’s so hot.”

Rolling your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and set it down on the floor next to you before reaching forward with both arms and stretching out your back. “It’s really not,” you brush off his words. “It just keeps me busy when I’m not in class. I only do it once a week, though.”

Bradley mutters something you can’t quite hear before he sighs. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” He asks and you snort as you sit back up straight. “First you kiss me, and now you’re telling me you do yoga.”

“You liked that, huh?” You murmur and lean off to the side, opening up your ribcage to get it ready for the positions you would be doing once everyone got here.

“Liked it? Are you seriously asking me that right now?” He asked in disbelief. “You should let me come to this class.”

“No,” you immediately answer, sitting up again and picking up your phone. “Not a chance.”

“See, I knew you were teasing me,” he muttered. “Please? I’ll be good, promise.”

You scoff. “You’d just be a distraction,” you say. “I can’t focus on anyone else when there’s a stupidly hot guy in the room.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he said, “So I distract you, too,” then he added, “That’s what you get for kissing me then bailing right after.”

“I did not bail,” you defend yourself with a stupid smile on your face. “I had class to get ready for, and I’m pretty sure you did, too.”

“Alright, alright, fair enough,” he murmured and you gave up on your warmup, instead you sat against the wall with your knees against your chest. “Still can’t believe you’re blowing me off to teach yoga. I’d be mad if I didn’t find it so hot.”

“I’m not blowing you off, I said we could hang out after,” you remind him just as the first few people came through the door. “Speaking of; I gotta go.”

Bradley hummed, “Okay. Can I pick you up after? We can get pizza or something,”

You hadn’t actually eaten much today since you would be wearing tight fitting clothing and didn’t want to look bloated, so pizza actually sounded really good right now. “You know the way to my heart,” you tease and he laughs that deep laugh that had you pressing your thighs together. “Sounds perfect.”

“Great, you should send me the address now so I can be prepared, you know?” He trailed off and you rolled your eyes again.

“You’re not watching me do yoga,”

“Fine,” he huffed, making you grin. “I’ll see you later, babes.”

There was that name again. You thought he called you it by accident yesterday, but here he is saying it again and making you feel all flustered right before you were about to teach a class. “Okay,” you agreed in a whisper, hanging up after before you could say anything embarrassing.

Bradley couldn’t believe how turned on he got when you told him that you taught a yoga class every week.

It was yoga, for fucks sake, why did he find the image of you doing it so attractive? Then he remembered that he’s found literally everything you’ve done since he met you attractive, then it started to make sense.

An hour or so passed since his call with you, and then you sent him the location of a gym that was a fair distance from campus. He had a feeling you walked there, and were probably planning on walking back if he didn’t offer to go get you, even though it was nearing seven thirty at night and it was getting darker by the second.

He wasn’t very fond of the idea of you walking around all the time by yourself, even if the areas surrounding the campus were relatively safe. He knew he shouldn’t be this protective over you so soon, but he couldn’t help it. His mom raised him right in that sense.

Bradley stopped for pizza on the way to pick you up, and he made sure the seat warmer was on since he knew you liked being scorching hot while in the car for some reason.

He was waiting for only a couple minutes before you exited the gym, and you looked insanely sexy for someone who just finished teaching a class. Your black leggings and tight tank top was really doing something to him, and Bradley had to quickly adjust himself in his jeans just as you opened the car door and got in. “Hi,” you greet and drop your bag onto the floor.

“Hey,” he managed to say back before gesturing to the pizza on the backseat. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got pepperoni to be safe.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” you smile and put on your seatbelt as he starts driving again. “Sorry, I look kinda bad right now. If I had known we were hanging out after, I would’ve brought a change of clothes.”

Bradley wanted to laugh, then he realized you were being serious. “You don’t look bad,” he scoffed and turned onto the street that leads out of town and back to campus. “You look as hot as I thought you would. Maybe even more.”

“You’re full of it,” you repeat what you told him the last time you were in his living room, and it once again had him laughing quietly to himself. “You remembered to put the seat warmer on.”

He glanced over at you with a raised brow. “Yeah, you’re the only person I know that puts that shit on when it’s still summer,”

You laugh, covering your mouth as you did so and he couldn’t stop himself from calling you out on it this time.

“Why do you do that?”

You look over at him with confusion on your face, “Do what?”

“You cover your mouth when you laugh,” he said, then lightened the mood by adding, “You don’t have anything in your teeth, I promise.”

“Oh, my God,” you cover your whole face this time as you groan, and he cackles. “Thanks for that, I know. I don’t know why I cover my mouth, I guess I just don’t like the way I look when I laugh. That’s all.”

That was by far the craziest thing Bradley has heard all day. He saw you laugh at the party, and even though he was drunk, he still remembered how pretty he thought you were, and it only intensified when he made you laugh the other night at Five Guys. You were carefree that night, but now you were restricting yourself around him, and he didn’t like it. It felt like you were going backwards, and he was more than prepared to go forward with you.

“I think you look pretty when you laugh,” he said and thought it would make things feel like a cheesy moment in those romcoms he forced himself to watch with Bri, but it didn’t. It felt normal. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. I like how natural it’s been between us since we met.”

You lean back in your seat and look over at him in a way that makes him want to pull over and kiss you again. “I like it, too,” you confess quietly.

The rest of the car ride passed by quickly and comfortably, and soon enough Bradley had you sitting on his lap at the small table in the kitchen he barely used. He kicked out the chair next to his for you to sit on, but you surprised him by draping your legs over his and pressing your side against his front.

He wasn’t complaining a single bit as he casually wrapped his arm around your middle while you both ate. “So, do I get to have a private one on one now that there’s no one here for me to distract you from?”

You blushed and shook your head as you bit into the crust. “Absolutely not,”

Bradley whined. He actually whined as he said, “You keep teasing me,”

“I’m not,” you laughed, but this time you didn’t cover your mouth, and that had his pout softening until he was smiling up at you. He thought the whole yoga topic was done after that, then you shifted on his lap and offered him something that made his hold around your waist tighten just a bit. “Ask me that question again at some point and my answer might change.”

You stayed over for another hour after that, and then you rejected his offer to drive you back to your place as you said you wanted to ‘work off the three pieces of pizza’ you ate.

Bradley already missed having you in his space as he cleaned up the kitchen and put away the leftover pizza, and when his phone went off with a new text, he shamelessly hoped it was you.

It wasn’t.

Bri ❤️❤️: Hi, Brad. I was thinking about you all day. I know it’s kinda late, but can I come over?

Had she sent him this text before he started getting to know you, he would’ve been all for her coming over right now. But as he read her text over and over again, he didn’t really feel anything. Maybe he was thinking about you too much right now to be able to take in her request fully, and he honestly hoped that wasn’t the case.

You were so different from Bri. You were sweet, funny, nice, and everything she wasn’t in all the months he was with her.

Still, he found himself wanting to test something out. He wanted to make sure of some things before he continued hanging out with you.

Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked.

He sent the text before he could talk himself out of it, then went upstairs and waited for Bri to arrive. He was flipping through the lecture notes he took today when she knocked on his bedroom door and invited herself in. “Hey,” she said, dragging the word out as she closed the door behind her.

“Hi,” he said back, finding himself not feeling the way he usually did every time he was alone in his room with her.

“It’s been a while since I was in here,” she commented as she dropped her bag onto his floor, making herself at home as she began to inspect his room.

If you consider less than a week a while, he wanted to say, but held off on it. “Yeah, I guess,”

She smirked over at him as she trailed her finger along his desk before lifting her gaze up to the bulletin board that was hung up on the wall above it. “Ooh, the Botanical Gardens?” She asked as she pulled the ticket from the board and held it in her hands. “We should go there. It’d be so pretty this time of year. And I hear it got recently renovated.”

It did. He got to see it firsthand with you. And it was pretty. But Bri wouldn’t get to see it with him. He went to the gardens with you on what he considered a date now that you and he were getting closer, and he refused to let Bri taint his prior experience there. He didn’t want to go there with her, not when he had already gone with you and ended up having a really nice time.

Bradley stayed silent, making Bri look back at him as she set the ticket you bought him down on the desk instead of putting it back on the board. “Not feeling talkative tonight?” She cooed, reaching up to slide off her jacket. It dropped to the floor as she made her way over to his bed, where he was still laying on his side and watching her every move. “That’s okay. I can think of a few ways to get you in the mood.

When she pressed one of her knees onto the mattress and traced her fingers along his thigh, he tensed up. “Bri,” he said in a warning tone, but she must’ve thought that was an invitation to continue.

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry about the way things ended between us,” she murmured, biting down on her lip as she moved so she was on her knees next to him. “I miss you, Brad. I shouldn’t have broken up with you.”

This was it. This is what he wanted to hear her say ever since she walked out of this very room the morning of the day he threw that party. The party he met you at. He wanted this, but not anymore.

It was clear to him now, and by the way his body reacted negatively to her instead of him getting turned on by her advances, that she wasn’t what he wanted anymore. Maybe she never was.

Maybe it was all just a filler until he met the person he did want. And he was pretty sure he’d already met that person. It was you.

“Bri,” he tried again, but she ignored him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against the side of his neck. He pulled away from her touch, but she followed after him with a laugh. “We were good together, weren’t we, Brad? I know you miss me as much as I miss you. Come on, quit teasing.”

He already knew that he wasn’t physically attracted to her anymore, he didn’t need to let this continue on any further. He felt guilty, even though you and he weren’t even together. He wanted this to be you. He wanted you.

When she reached for the zipper of his jeans, his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, halting her actions instantly and making her jump slightly in surprise. “Briana,” he muttered and her eyes widened at the seriousness in his voice.

She looked so dejected, he almost felt bad that she clearly wasn’t going to get what she came here for, which was his body. She made sure he knew that his body is all he’s good for when she broke things off with him, and it was obvious that’s what she was wanting to get out of this little reunion.

Still, he didn’t want to completely offend her or make her feel bad. “I have an early class tomorrow. You should go,”

But then her gaze turned cold. “Oh, my God,” she gasped, pulling her hand out of his grasp. “You like that girl you were talking to at the party, don’t you?” So she did see him talking to you, but still went home with Jensen anyway.

Bradley stayed silent again as she didn’t need to know about his relationship with you. No one did. What he had with you, that obvious connection you shared, he wanted to keep that just between you and him.

She let out a humorless laugh. “You really moved on that quick?” She scoffed and he narrowed his eyes.

“You moved on the day we broke up,” he pointed out and she rolled her eyes.

“That’s different,” she muttered and he pushed away his notes and sat up.

“How? How is that different?” He asked and she huffed, standing up and grabbing her jacket from where she dropped it by his bed.

“It just is,” she answered, throwing her jacket on and glaring at him. “I can’t believe you. What, you meet one girl who actually gives you attention for more than five minutes and you suddenly forget about me?”

Bradley opened his mouth to defend both you and himself, fed up with the way she talked to him at this point and now about you, but she went on,

“You’re pathetic, Bradshaw,” she laughed again and grabbed her bag. “Thanks so much for wasting my time tonight.”

She opened the door and slammed it behind her, and he could hear her loud footsteps as she went downstairs and left the house, slamming the front door behind her as well.

Bradley scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, kind of pissed off at the way that whole thing went, but he also didn’t let himself get too heated. She really wasn’t worth it anymore.

He was getting better at calming himself down before he got too mad, but he was still feeling irritated because of Bri, even after he had a shower and got ready for bed.

He wanted to call you, wanted to talk to you and let himself get lost in your kind and sweet voice.

Fuck it.

He grabbed his phone and pressed on your contact, holding it to his ear for a few seconds as it began to ring.

Wait. No.

He didn’t want to bother you with this. You had a good day today, and he didn’t want to ruin it by calling you when he wasn’t fully calmed down yet.

Bradley quickly ended the call and threw his phone onto his bed before falling down onto his pillow and groaning. He was only a few seconds into his pity party when his phone went off, and when he grabbed it, he saw that it was you calling him back.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling onto his back as he accepted your call. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you say and he could hear the small amount of panic in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered, draping his arm over his face as he sighed. “Why?”

“You called me then hung up,” you laugh nervously, “I got worried.”

Bradley felt himself beginning to smile, and he somehow knew you would be able to make him feel better. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his arm back down to his side. “Something happened and it made me….never mind. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, then it was like you read his mind as you asked, “Do you want to talk for a bit?”

Bradley leaned back on the pillow and let himself picture the way you looked at him when he said that he thought you were pretty when you laughed. The smile you gave him in the Jeep was so pretty, he was getting flustered just thinking about it. “Yeah,” he answered just as quietly. “Can we?”

He heard you shuffling on your end of the call, and he wondered if you were in a similar position he was in. “Of course,” you say. “What do you want to talk about?”

He thought about it for a few seconds before asking the first question that popped into his head. “What’s your favorite color?”

You laugh in response, and the sound has Bradley’s mood lifting considerably. “Mint,” you reply. “What’s yours?”

“Blue and red,” he rasped, “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Mmm, a fox,”

“Book?”

“The Catcher in the Rye,”

“Do you like coffee?” He asked and added before you could answer, “This one is very important.”

You laugh again, “Oh, is it? Yes, I do, sometimes,”

Bradley falls silent for a few seconds after that, feeling himself get lost in the way you sounded so sweet and genuine right now.

“Did I answer it right?” You asked him and he turned onto his side, sliding the hand that wasn’t holding his phone under the pillow.

“How do you like your coffee?” He asked instead of answering your question, and you didn’t seem to care very much as he was met with your laugh again.

“I like french vanilla. It’s actually the only way I can drink coffee,”

Perfect. You were perfect. You sounded perfect.

He felt like he didn’t deserve to be talking to you like this or even to be talking to you in general. Bradley has always messed with things that didn’t need to be messed with and almost always ended up ruining it, and he really didn’t want to do that with you.

But he didn’t want to end the call so soon. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“That’s a tough one,” you mumbled and he could hear you holding back a yawn.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” He teased and you huff out a laugh.

“No, not at all. I’m just in bed right now and I guess my head automatically thinks I’m supposed to be sleeping,” you say in a quiet voice. “Um, my favorite movie…oh, I Know What You Did Last Summer.”

Bradley laughed at that. “A 90s slasher? Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, you asked,”

You and he ended up talking for a while after that until you eventually had to go to sleep. He ended the call before getting up and putting the ticket from the gardens back on the board, looking at it for a few seconds afterwards.

By the time he plugged his phone in and got under his covers, Bradley realized that he was no longer mad or annoyed about what happened with Bri, and that you had successfully calmed him down with just your voice.

He hadn’t felt this way about anyone in his entire life, and not once did he ever feel like this about Bri. He knew he needed to tell Wes and Eli that he was done with Bri and that although he was hanging out with you, it wasn’t because he made a bet on you.

He assumed they would be checking in on how things were going with the bet soon, and even though he had that brief conversation with Eli the other day about you, he knew it wasn’t enough to have him believing that Bradley’s intentions with you were pure.

And maybe they weren’t in the beginning, maybe he went to those gardens with you after Bri broke up with him just to spite her, but it wasn’t like that now. He knew that, he just had to make the guys believe it, too.

138 notes · View notes

feelbokkie · 2 months

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Sorry, I Love You | Chapter 5

pairing: Jeongin x fem reader

genre/warnings: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, friends to lovers, unrequited love, will they, won’t they dynamic, abusive relationship, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, emotional/psychological abuse

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, domestic violence (nobody's putting hands on anyone though), toxic relationship, suggestive if you squint, mention of blood

summary: Jeongin is in love with his best friend and he has been ever since he met her back in high school. He’s not sure how Y/n feels about him and in order to persevere their friendship, it’s a secret he keeps to himself. But when Y/n starts showing interest in one of their new neighbors, Jeongin starts to worry about the future of their relationship.

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 2,948

screenshot count: 19 (plus one 1 video at the end)

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Knock, knock, knock

You stand outside Soobin's apartment, waiting for someone to open the door. You have a key. He gave it to you ages ago when he and the other boys moved. He never asked for it back, even when you two were on breaks. Even then, you've only ever used it when one of them accidentally locked themselves out. You didn't feel comfortable enough letting yourself in even though your boyfriend lived there. Maybe part of you was being considerate of Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Kai's privacy. But another part of you was scared of what you might find one day.

"Do you know how late it is--" The door jerks open to reveal an annoyed Yeonjun. "...Oh...Y/n..."

His face softens when his eyes meet yours. You can only imagine what's going through his head, you know what's going through yours. The picture. What everyone is thinking of you. You hardly had any peace on the bus ride over, you felt like everyone's eyes were on you. Like they saw the picture too.

Yeonjun slightly leans against the doorframe. His hand is firm on the door, ready to slam it shut again. His hair a tousled mess pulled in different directions. The oversized grey zip-up hoodie swallows his slender frame. Part of the jacket slips off his shoulder, revealing the strap of the white tank top he's wearing underneath. His lower lip is red and raw. He's probably been nervously chewing on it for hours. A habit you know he's been trying to break.

"Hey, Junnie." You finally let out. "Is Soobin home?"

Yeonjun pulls the door closer to his body, closing any gap that you might try to squeeze your way through. "Yeah, but you shouldn't be here right now."

"You saw the picture," Your voice cracks. It's less of a question and more of a confirmation. You already know he did. His body language is enough of a giveaway. His face is as red as a stoplight, glowing in the soft porch light. His eyes dart around in all sorts of directions, begging to look at anything other than you.

"I'm sorry..." The red in his face slowly drifts down to his neck.

"I need to talk to him." You shift your weight onto your other leg.

"That's really not a good idea. We're handling it though. Gyu is looking for Soobin's room key so--"

"You can't even look at me right now, Yeonjun. I need to talk to him myself. He blocked me on everything so I have to do it in person."

Yeonjun's eyes finally snap to your face, almost like a spell. "I understand that, and I am sorry but I really don't think you should be here--"

"Yeonjun! Please," You ball your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms as you try to keep yourself from crying. You can feel the all-too-familiar sting stab the back of your eyes.

"...He's been drinking, Y/n." He says softly, almost as if he's talking to a child. Your breath hitches in your throat for a moment. You're not sure if it's the scream you've been holding in since you saw the picture trying to make its way out or a sudden panicked and frustrated scream. Either way, you don't like it.

"I don't care. That picture is still up and more people are seeing it and my life is being ruined very quickly. If you don't let me in to talk to him, I'm going to scream and--"

"Fine," Yeonjun pauses for a moment before moving out of the frame and holding it wide open for you. "You can come in, just...just don't lock the door. Hell, leave it open, we won't listen."

You slightly nod your head at Yeonjun, a silent 'thank you' as you walk into the apartment. The atmosphere is immediately off. You don't hear the distant screams of Beomgyu from his room that you've become accustomed to. Or the noise from Kai making a snack in the kitchen. Yeonjun isn't on the couch playing a game with Beomgyu pestering him nearby. The TV is on and paused on a show that Taehyun and Yeonjun started the last time you were over.

You walk towards the bedrooms, hearing the hushed bickering between Kai and Beomgyu and the faint jingling of keys. As you walk closer, you find Beomgyu kneeling in front of the doorknob, a key ring in his hand. Kai is hunched over Beomgyu's shoulder telling him to try different keys while Taehyun is leaning against his bedroom door, watching his roommates argue with a frown etched onto his face.

"See, I told you to try that one first," Kai lets out a sigh of relief.

"I know, I know, now shut up before I redirect my anger," Beomgyu stands up and stretches, his shirt lifting a little.

Taehyun kicks himself off the wall and walks to the door. He pauses when catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. "Y/n? You really shouldn't..."

You don't notice, but Yeonjun shakes his head, telling him to drop it. All three of the boys quietly step back, their worried eyes fall on your bad. Or maybe they're judging you. They saw the picture too. Their image of you is forever tainted.

You've never liked attention. It's why you prefer being behind the camera instead of in front of it. Being with Soobin, you've slowly gotten used to the attention. Of the peering eyes that the drama you two lived in attracted. How, when you two are fighting, everyone speaks carefully around you and their eyes watch you intently. Or how, when you two are together, they can't help their judgmental glares. But this, this is going to be different. You know that some, if not all of your friends aren't even going to be able to look at you. You're not entirely sure if that's going to be any better.

You push Soobin's bedroom door open and slowly walk in. The air in his room cool on your skin. Soobin rests against the headboard of his bed. The speaker you got him for his birthday 3 years ago loudly plays a song from a local band the two of you saw a couple of years ago. He ended up liking their music more than you did. His eyes are closed as it slowly bobs along to the music, the neck of a bottle of beer sits loosely in his hand. His eyes shoot open as you close the door. "Y/n? Here for another photoshoot?"

"I need you to delete the picture." You say firmly.

"Hm?" Soobin sits up, adjusting the light blue beanie on his head with his free hand. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? You know exactly why." Unsure what to do with your hands, you cross your arms.

"Nothing's showing. Your face is barely in it. It could be anyone." He waves off before taking another sip of his drink, spilling a little on his oversized white t-shirt.

"That's why you tagged me right?" You take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling to calm yourself, only to be met with your reflection.

Soobin throws his head back, letting out a deep hearty laugh before focusing his attention back on you. "You get on my ass because I don't post pictures of you and now you're getting on my ass because I did. I can't win!"

"I meant like a cute picture of me or hell, even an ugly candid. Not me--" You quickly press your lips together, trying to remain calm. You know that arguing with Soobin when he's drunk is pointless. You just want him to take the photo down. "Look, just take the fucking picture down."

“Why?" Soobin gets up from his bed and slowly walks towards you. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and searches for something. "Scared your other boyfriend might see it? Oh, looks like he already saw it. One of your other friends took a screenshot, wanna see who? Guess I have to look out for him too.”

You push his hand away as he tries to show you the engagement on his story. “I don't have another boyfriend and you know that."

"Do I?" He cocks his head to the side, he can hardly hide the smirk creeping up on his face.

You used to love the mischievous smirk that would sneak onto his face. It always preceded a bad idea which was followed by a wink. It's how you two ended up together. You didn't see past his angel-like looks when he asked 'Do you wanna get out of here?' You spent your second Friday in South Korea exploring the nightlife of Seoul. It's how you ended up with a tattoo in a place where only Soobin knows. And how you spent one of your breaks in the countryside with Soobin instead of going home. It's how you ended up letting Soobin take that picture in the first place.

"What do you want?" Your voice strains as you try to fight back the sob threatening to come out. "Do you want me to beg you to take it down?”

Soobin gently places his hand on your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. The pads of his fingers are rough on your skin. "You always do look the prettiest on your knees."

"Are you doing this to get back at me or something?" Your voice finally cracks, your eyes sting from the all-too-familiar pricks.

Don't cry.

"What am I doing?" Soobin almost looks concerned as he wipes a traitorous tear from your cheek.

Having enough, you push Soobin's hand away from you. "You posted that picture of me knowing that everyone would see it. You constantly accuse me of cheating when I'm the only one who has been faithful the entire time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nico," You cross your arms across your chest.

"Who the fuck is Nico?"

"Great, you don't even know the name of the person you're cheating on me with." You mutter under your breath. "The girl you've been sleeping with since the summer."

"Oh, that? I never slept with her while we were together."

"But you did sleep with her,"

"When we were on a break or broken up or whatever the fuck, yeah. It’s not cheating."

“That’s not the issue. I asked you if you were with anyone else while we were apart and you said 'no.'”

"I say a lot of things."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You're not sure why you asked. Your mind is already second-guessing everything he's ever said to you. Every 'I love you.' Every apology. Every promise. Every secret. Hell, he even told you that the pictures he took would be for his eyes only. You're not sure which ones are true and which ones are lies. If there are even any truths.

"Hm, I wonder?" Soobin walks back to his bed and finally lowers the music.

"That's great, Soobin," You laugh because that's all you can do. If you don't laugh, you'll cry and the last thing you want is for Soobin to see you cry. "You know what, keep the picture up, I'm sure it's already made its way around the university. Post the rest of them. Fuck whoever you want, I don't care. I'm done and I'm tired."

Soobin lets out a loud laugh that sends a chill down your spine. You want to turn and leave, but something is stopping you.

"Okay, Y/n. Go ahead and break up with me, again. And then go talk shit about me to your friend before going and sleeping with one of your many guy friends--"

"I've never once given you a reason to think that I cheated on you when you've given me thousands. And I can promise you, I'm the only one defending you--"

"Don't lie to me! Did you defend me when you went out with Yeji and let her text me like that? What about when you showed up late to--"

"I really am done with you, I can't deal with you when you're like this." You turn to finally leave the room, your hand on the cool brass door knob.

Crash!

Your body freezes and turns cold as your eyes slowly inch to the wet spot on the wall. Your eyes trail down to the floor where there is now a puddle of beer and shattered glass. You've never been more grateful that Soobin is bad at sports. Two inches to the left and that bottle would have hit your head.

"Don't turn your back to me when I'm talking to you!"

Unsure of what else to do, you slink down to the ground and begin to pick up the pieces of glass from the floor. You bite down your quivering bottom lip as you swallow back sobs. You can't hear anything else beyond your sniffling, your eyes trained on the clear glass. You don't flinch as you accidentally cut your hand on one of the sharper shards. The whiplash of the past couple of hours clouding your mind. You're exhausted and slightly scared of leaving. If Soobin was willing to throw something at you, who knows what else he might do? You should have listened to Yeonjun and gone home, it would have been easier to deal with a sober Soobin than a drunk one.

"Hey, hey Y/n, put that down." Yeonjun kneels beside you and gently takes your hand.

"If I don't then..." Your voice trails off, you're not sure what argument you had.

"It's okay. The guys got it. C'mon, let's take care of your hand...and your cheek." Yeonjun carefully takes the glass out of your hand and helps you up as you touch the wet spot on your cheek that you thought was beer only to be met with blood. You follow behind as he leads you out of the room. You catch a quick glimpse of Beomgyu taking Soobin's phone out of his hands.

***

After patching your hand up and putting a bandaid on your cheek, Yeonjun drove you home. The drive was quiet as you looked out the window the whole time. You could tell that Yeonjun had something he wanted to say the whole time, but he kept his mouth shut. You only mumbled out a thank you and a small smile before you walked into your apartment.

Click

You press your back against the front door and slide to the ground, your body too tired to move anymore. You rest your head on your knees as you pull your phone out of your pocket. Your lock screen is littered with texts and missed calls from friends and classmates. You roll your swollen eyes as you unlock your phone and go to your contacts.

You steady your breathing as your thumb hovers over Jeongin's number, the top number in your favorites. It's nearly one in the morning. On a normal night, Jeongin would be asleep. He's one of the few people in your group who goes to bed at a decent time. You don't want to wake him up, but you need to hear his voice right now.

Bring, bring, bring

You hold the phone to your ear as you tuck your head back in between your knees. The monotone ringing is almost calming as you wait for him to pick up. You wish he was here with you now. Or that Yeonjun dropped you off at his house. But the last thing you want is it getting back to Soobin and giving him another reason to accuse you of something that you would never do. You don't see Jeongin as more than a friend. He's the one person you managed to get close to your entire time in the country. Sure, you love your other friends but there's a bond that you share with Jeongin that you don't seem to have with everyone else.

"Y/n?" Jeongin's tired voice asks on the other end. It's warm and soothing and somehow everything you need right now.

You stay silent, trying to keep calm. You know that the second he hears your crying, he's going to make his way over to you and the last thing you want is to have him see you with raccoon eyes and a bandaid on your face and jump to conclusions. You're not even sure you can look him in the eyes after that picture got out.

"Y/n?" You hear him moving around in the back, his voice slightly panicked. "Y/n, what's wrong?"

You want to just tell him that everything is wrong. That you and Soobin got into another fight and that you had to break up with him for good this time. That you know Soobin has more pictures on his phone and you're scared that he might end up posting them. That your hand and cheek hurt and are throbbing underneath the ointment and bandaids. How loud the heavy pounding in your head is right now and how heavy your heart feels in your chest. How you know that you're going to hear a chorus of 'I told you so's and looks of pity from all of your other friends. How you want nothing more than to be home, home with your parents and older brother. How you don't want to be alone right now.

You wipe the tears pouring down your face like a leaky faucet with your free hand. Your throat quickly becomes sore and dry as a sob settles in your chest just from the concern in Jeongin's voice. "My heart hurts,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @veedoesntknaur @nuronhe @lixie-phobia @yongbbokkie @f9clementine @kibs-and-bits @jihanlovic @puppysmileseungmin @jaydebow @kangaracharacha @lilcutieana @lanatheawesome @everglowdaisies @babrieeee @sunshinessky @szkstay @aslou @weird-bookworm @autumn-lv @ismelllikechlorine247 @stay278 @wolfennracha @tesywesy @mmmsvnts

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