#odd situation all around lmao

[anantaru]

EX HUSBAND NEUVILLETTE

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband neuvillette headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, fluff, crack lmao, he‘s trying his best, very rough like he’s feral!!!!, fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, but the sweetest man, a little possessive without him realising

ex! husband neuvillette, who— as was wildly anticipated, would not instantly vanish from your life nor leave you stranded alone beside the mental toll that a separation would leave on the both of you— even after the grief-stricken divorce was at last, ultimately finalized and carried out.

ex! husband neuvillette who thought that— with the fullness of his devastated heart, that in his own very eyes, it was beyond a doubt commonplace to aid and assist his ex-wife in the so called "aftermath" of your troubling divorce, whilst more urgently, be in no qualms that you're being cared for with everything and anything you could possible need.

ex! husband neuvillette, who of course, would double check with you to not suddenly overstep any boundaries or take up space that you might need— yet bare in mind, if you were to ask him for help on any matter really, he'd immediately leave everything behind to fulfill your wishes first, considering he is used to it, but the man will tend to forget about his own personal needs which he needed so he could function properly— yet now with you out of the picture, walking back to his current reality was becoming a taxing task.

ex! husband neuvillette, who, aside from his own separate challenges and demands, would never dare to cast aside his important work of practically running the nation of hydro. much obliged, he was a prestigious, praiseworthy man, thus the reason for him to pull more effort and sleepless nights into his occupation.

ex! husband neuvillette who couldn't believe that you both were divorced in the first place because in all seriousness, there wasn't much changing and aside from a couple instances, for example that he wasn't seeing you frequently, it felt the same way to him.

ex! husband neuvillette who, after a couple weeks into your divorce, will suddenly become a little more distant, not responding to letters you would occasionally send to make sure he was okay— with the immediate turbulent, overcast weather in fontaine adding to the closing eeriness of the entire situation. it's constant, clouded and gray, a mirage of cold rain and an incoming storm, and the people of fontaine will begin to question what had happened or if it was simply an unlucky past couple of weeks.

ex! husband neuvillette who doesn't like the idea of divorce, as might be expected he understands it, but in his own regard, he does not approve of it, but he accepts it— additionally, he wouldn't force you to stay with him, again, why he had agreed on it in the first place. the man would lie to himself if he'd say that it doesn't break his heart, the unclouded thought of wholly erasing the person he referred to as his 'wife' off his entire life was a frightening pondering.

ex! husband neuvillette wasn't willing to accept it, ever, but he did it for your sake and the small possibility of you becoming close again, in the future? perhaps, he was willing to wait endlessly, condemning himself to a lifetime in darkness, knowing full on well that his most desired dream to reconcile arguably wouldn't come true— on top of that, after careful, deep talks on how to properly navigate your divorce and being separated from now on, you have both ultimately agreed on remaining 'friends' in a sense, such was easy to state of course but you longed to make the best out of it, or at least try.

ex! husband neuvillette who will against all odds, still keep his wedding ring put on its designated place. granted, he had gotten quite accustomed to the feeling of it being wrapped around his finger and doesn't want to take it off. if you do decide to ask him about it, given that you aren't wearing yours anymore, he will plainly state that he got used to it way too much and it had grown on him, really, becoming a part of his person so ultimately taking it off would result in the same as him severing a limb off his body.

ex! husband neuvillette who still calls you his wife unintentionally, in the beginning of the first couple of weeks, it will happen almost all the time. be that as it may, he doesn't do it on purpose to somehow hurt you or make you uncomfortable, and he was aware of the fact that he needed to get accustomed to the feeling of being single again, of not being married anymore but calling you his wife just warmths his chest and hugs him from inside and out.

ex! husband neuvillette bets on it, it's like his whole day could be stacked with work on end, without a second of tranquility in sight, rain droplets covering the nation of hydro, but when he thinks about you, only you, a smile coruscates over his soft lips, increasing his heart beat, it's all so painful but he wouldn't want it any other way because nothing, and he emphasizes it deeply, nothing would be as painful as having you gone form his life.

ex! husband neuvillette who, and pay attention now, this would only happen if his strong, rational thinking skills and durable emotions towards keeping the laws of this world truthful were somewhat altered in an instance of weakness, but he would adore to throw and punish every new person you would date after him behind bars, yet not before properly dragging them to a trail that they cannot win, for him to look down on them— again, it's a small fantasy he wouldn't bring into life, he honored his noble work.

ex! husband neuvillette who knows that even day dreaming about such wrongful ideas were full of holes and malice, yet beyond it, he keeps himself restrained in not interfering in your new relationships— which he had thought must be a lot, you could say he believed that you were already out and about in the dating world, overthinking the worst out of all possibilities that could happen.

ex! husband neuvillette who will oftentimes send the melusines out to check up on you and tell him how you're doing— no, don't misunderstand, he doesn't want to know if you were dating again, he wouldn't, after all, this was your personal life and he wasn't your husband anymore. but then again, surely checking every now and then wouldn't hurt a soul, right?

ex! husband neuvillette will send you freshly picked flowers frequently, or have your favorite dish made by a professional chef. how can i forget to mention that he tends to buy a small, cute souvenir that would remind him of you and send it your way instantly. at how things were slowly progressing, the man will be quite embarrassed in facing you again, granted that you had promised to remain friends, he fears that the constant raining and pouring around fontaine would make it desperately obvious on how he was truly feeling, what can there be left anyways, nothing but the untouchable part of him, his aching soul begging for closeness.

but ex! husband neuvillette does not want to trouble you, fearing he might become overbearing in his doings, but he misses you, this time it's more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. he longes for a moment where he can see and feel you again, his mind circling through emotions and pondering, sinful dreams stitching his psyche together and calming down his heart.

ex! husband neuvillette who will be surprised, yet overly thrilled as if he was about to jump off his chair, when you ask the sweet melusines to hand him over a letter— the scent of the thin paper reminding him of your fragrance, a similar one he noticed whenever he kissed your neck. beyond question, they couldn't have told him fast enough, he finishes up the necessary work load for the day, at once forging ahead to your once shared house. you know it by now but he does not falter, he wants this to be perfect, carefully picking up a bouquet of flowers, with the flowers in questions being the very ones that have been decorating your wedding venue back in the day, oh sweet memories, he hopes he doesn't come off as crazy.

ex! husband neuvillette who tries to play it cool, it's not a big deal, but why were his hands sweating? his breathing was fast too, burgeoning, each following step towards your home, his limbs and muscles would begin to tremble, it's evident and almost aflame, but the weather has been nice again all of a sudden, for once in fontaine and he couldn't wait to see you.

ex! husband neuvillette who cannot say anything when you open the door for him, all these miles with the memories of your passionate time together pouring back into his mind. it's silly, but so real, and there was a silence, although not of an uncomfortable kind, it was overthrowing the hefty atmosphere.

and honestly, you think ex! husband neuvillette was cute when he was all overwhelmed and bereft of speech, even cuter when he’s silently walking past the door, your hands slowly wrapping around the bouquet of flowers to place them aside, on top of a wooden drawer before panning your eyes back into his grasp— which was his piercing, conquering gaze.

you could perceive the cutting tautness, how the reinforced pressure alone couldn't be torn, not with a sharp knife, no sword, no blade, because forthrightly— there wasn't anything on this planet that was able to part this emerging and crashing body chemistry.

all fairness to the situation— your captivation was off the charts, two people unable to coexist while parted, searching within your souls to understand what was happening. yet then it hit you, that maybe— heavily placed on a single maybe, that there might've been a cruel mistake in how things ended between you both;

or did they end?

because like a bullet piercing through soft flesh, it gave the impression away as if you were both moving closer to your sweet frames until you could clearly feel his warm, clothed chest pushed against your own— hopeful eyes remained locked within your gazes as you carefully slide your hands behind his neck without breaking his stares.

ex! husband neuvillette whose breathing was all fast and hasty, yet much swifter was his never ending intention to kiss you again and taste your lips in the process, he cannot stop himself anymore, but he must— for some reason, he cannot fathom that this might be reality and that you both would have a second chance in this life after all.

"kiss me." you suddenly whisper, eyes aglow with his own enlarging at the nervous utterance, subtle touches weaving together and showing your open truths.

ex! husband neuvillette feels how tense he has gotten and tries to relax— on top of that, he was reminiscing about the past and the bare memories of your writhing body splayed under his large one, his entire weight on top of you, just the whisper of his sinful imagination made his mouth water— he truly believes he was in fact dreaming right now, especially when you tell him to kiss him again.

there were no thoughts to process anymore, no focus he could grasp on to remain clearness— what was left were true, unfaltering desires and the scalding pain of waiting. that‘s when you kiss him instead, his body immediately welcoming your fervid warmth, pulling his head towards your own in a heart beat.

ex! husband neuvillette felt a heavy hardship being lifted off his shoulders the moment your lips touch his, and each one of the words he had planned to spell out to you, they form into a sting that was beating into his heart, repeatedly, the sharp stitches seeping into his veins slowly. and he refuses to cry in front of you, or expose to you that everything that had happened after your separation was covered in nothing but a silent numbness.

swallowing the lump in his throat, ex! husband neuvillette guides you to the bedroom, it was hard to decipher what was real or not, each motion of your lips rounding across his own felt like he was dreaming the most beautiful dream of them all. the whisper of cold air brushes across your bodies when he opens the door to the cold room, his own imagination going wild when he peeks at the neatly made bed, or the wooden drawer next to it, still having your wedding picture on display.

ex! husband neuvillette who takes his time in undressing you, the fear of someone taking you away from him again, even now, was still there and he wanted, no, needed to relish in this as good as possible. neuvillette wets his lips, nervous, "my love.. are you sure about this?" and he hesitated for a second— but when you tug at his own sleeves now, fondling with the expensive garment, nodding your head and expertly wrapping your digits into the thin fabric to help him out of it, he knows you wanted it as badly as he did, popping his arms back so you could pull his coat down, your mouth twisting into a subtle smile.

ex! husband neuvillette who touches you featherlight, slowly parting your legs to settle in between, and butterflies expand in your belly when you admire his beauty from up close again, his muscles twitching when you decide to lightly graze his skin with your fingertips, smoothly sliding over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

ex! husband neuvillette who could honestly cry the moment he first slides his cock into you again, kissing you again and again, more deeply, more feral and in need before licking into your mouth, leaving his large hand to wander down to the plush of your ass and push you into the mattress when he first bottoms out of you. you're so warm, wet and comfortable while you're clamping down on him. and neuvillette pistols his hips like an electric light, hoping he'd be able to hit so deep inside your warm cunt till you practically feel him stir up your guts.

and a moan slowly builds up in your throat as your tits brush against his strong chest— whilst neuvillette places a delicious, fast pace on you, the bare strength of his thrusts making the headboard bounce back and forth the wall as he nibbles on your bottom lip while fucking his cock into you, your gummy walls squelching at each well received pump.

ex! husband neuvillette who roughly palms your tits and plays with your nipples with his hips moving in a feral tempo— whilst those breathy, wet pleas of your name, the ones he whispered against your ear, evolve into gluttonous, hungry groans, whilst the thought about losing all of this made it more difficult for him to say anything at all, his throat acting as a trap for that one sentence he intended to spell out, the sound of it awaiting to break free— but the nervousness couldn't be surpassed as he takes a hold of your hand, desperately clutching on it before grinding his erection back into you, a pulse surging through the entirety of your walls.

ex! husband neuvillette who finds it mesmerizing on how you were so responsive to his every nibble and touch, his thudding cock diving between your legs while he fists your tits in his warm hand, your lips parting with cries and begs while meeting his hungry pace.

his hips, much bigger than yours, keep hitting into you, a lustful gaze on your facial expression clouding your mind as he makes you feel so unbelievably good, soaking your sheets as you kiss him, famished and hot, feeling his needy grunts exhaling through his lips as you clench down hard, gazes meeting once and for all, "i love you." you say, almost cry it out, and neuvillette wanted to be patient with you, claim your body to its full exhaustion afterwards, but not now, he cannot keep his cool this time— not anymore, not after you said those very three words he wasn't able to utter out all night.

you're truly driving him insane, and his body was pressing hotly against yours as you wiggle and writhe under him, puppy eyes watching him please you from under your lashes while you’re requiring more of his cock in you, please please, you say, your pussy clamping around his girth and milking him for good.

ex! husband neuvillette who tells you, "i love you too, i love you too.." in quick, fast paced syllables, and the burning veins in his body turn numb when you begin to cry out of joy and pleasure, hastily pushing your heels into his back to signal him to fuck you harder as he pounds away into your creamy pussy, dragging his hard erection along your sore walls and burning pleasure spots.

now— your nails simmer over his defined back, both sweetly indulging in each others company and the feeling of being one again, nothing else but solid, fast paced pleasure which was turning him on, so fucking much, his breathing puffed and winded, throwing his head back as you're doing your best to match his insane rhythm.

your pussy swallows him up like magic, your damp lashes tickling his shoulders as he buries his face against your neck to suck on the wet flesh, in accessory to the numerous amount of praises, declarations of love and filthy curses plastering your sweaty skin. or how about the swallowing screams and begs of your name that ripple through him as you moan out fervently, twitching under his towering body and arching your back.

oh, well? it's now or never your “ex” husband fears, and he decides to push his pulsing cock deep into your hole, deeper, just a little bit more, please! until you're desperately screaming into his shoulder, as far as it can fit into your little pussy, sending you over an intoxicating edge.

and ex! husband neuvillette was, at long last, back at where he should be, where he should've been all along, with you, making passionate and meaningful love to each other, because the man needed it, needed you close to him, and he cannot and will never again, paint the world without you in it.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #neuvillette x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff

[mickyschumacher]

𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and lando have a pretty healthy relationship; communication is a breeze between the two of you. and while that seems good, it doesn't help lando is horny 24/7. even the beach isn't safe from him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), established relationship, some fluff, blowjob, slight handjob, breastplay, poor humour LMAO aka old creepy mens' dicks, no time concept lol, basically lando time!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: now playing: ice cream cake – red velvet! OKAY YES IK I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I HAD WRITER'S BLOCK TILL THIS OKAY? is it not obvious by the word count? 😭 alexa, play 'easy on me' by adele :( also new banners after i messed around one day! ♡︎ // proof-read-ish!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  ｡  .°•  ⋆

You had met Lando two years ago purely on accident. You were at a coffee shop in Brighton, he was visiting a friend there. You ordered a hot chocolate and he had ordered a long black. Somehow the both of you had swapped cups and were wincing at how sweet or bitter the drink was.

Lando had turned his cup around to see who the cup belonged to. Upon seeing your name, unlike a normal person who would ask the barista for another cup or a refund, he had shouted your name across the room.

Lucky for you, you were the only other customer there since it was a slow day. Nevertheless, you looked up in shock. Who yelled out your name? Why? How did they know your name?

You actually purposely avoided eye-contact with his table just in case he was some weird guy. But Lando got your attention after telling you from across that room that you had some sweet taste in drinks.

You raised a brow. Was this some sort of new catcall you didn't know about? But then you had caught the barista's handwriting on 'your' cup. Lando, Long Black.

You scrunched your nose at the cup and looked at him. "You're quite bitter."

It was at that point when Lando had got a clear shot of your face and found his heart racing faster than normal. You were pretty, no gorgeous, no beautiful, no... surreal. Your face was contorted into a grimaced expression at his order which he found amusing. You looked like, what he still claims to this day, part of the shop's couch. The couch was brown and you were wearing a brown sweater.

Honestly, Lando couldn't find the whole situation anymore endearing. So with whatever confidence he had leftover, he walked up to your table and smoothly asked, "Can I get you a sweeter one with my number?"

Now this was when you first had probably got a look of Lando. He had a certain... boyish charm, if you will. The wide grin, sparkling blue eyes, face dotted with the odd freckle or beauty mark. To say he was attractive was an understatement. He looked like one of the main characters in the rom-coms you would binge when you needed a pick me-up.

You said yes. Obviously.

And here you were, two years later. At the beach with Lando, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, and their partners. You were all caught up with F1, always available for Lando. Your perspective of him had changed quite a lot since you had met him. In a good way, of course.

You initially saw him how a lot most of his fans and the media see him. A comedian by day and a moodmaker by night. Always smiling and cheery. Positive and optimistic. But the reality was that Lando struggled with the mental and physical aspects of F1. He didn't always have the confidence and he was stressed and depressed.

But as Lando always said in his interviews, he had found you.

'The best thing that had ever happened to him,' according to Lando himself.

Anyone could see that the two of you loved each other with your entire beings. Neither of you left any stone unturned in your relationship. Most people were jealous of your relationship. The drivers, the media, and especially the fans.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

One thing about Lando that you had learned quite soon after your first time together was that Lando was insatiable. He was sex-driven, horny, full of lust, aroused... all the words in the dictionary for a man like this... 24/7.

One day, you asked him why. Lando only responded with pulling you closer to him, leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw and down to your neck, and saying "You."

You wouldn't say anything did it for him. No in fact, it was specific things that he couldn't take his mind off once he thought about it.

Take right now for example.

Carlos had decided to treat everyone to ice creams, ice lollies, and juice on your trip to the beach in Playa de Bolonia. Innocently and naively, you had chosen the pink ice lolly out the chilly bin. Lando had also not thought anything of it.

Rather Lando had being eyeing you with every spare glance as you were wearing his favourite bikini, the one he had bought you for Christmas as a prank gift in the nice British winter thinking it had been the funniest thing ever. Obviously, he thought you were going to were it but another thing you had learned was that Lando's humour quite often was unmatched and spontaneous.

The bikini itself was simple. An orange, of course, two-piece. The top was held up by two moderately thin straps and hugged your breasts quite nicely. The bikini bottom was as normal as it could get, clinging to your hips. On top of it, you wore a white thin-laced cotton coverup, loosely tied together.

You would say it was an average beach look. Lando would disagree. It was as if God himself had carved you and decided to put you on Earth as reparations for the bad in the world.

But back to the point.

As mentioned, Lando hadn't really thought of the ice lolly. He was too busy trying to get Daniel back with a water gun. Like you said, boyish. It wasn't until he had finally got him back and decided to go sit down with you and grab himself some ice cream.

But when Lando sat down and looked at you, his mind had suddenly turned into shambles. There you were. Under the shade, peaks of sun shining on your skin, holding that pink ice lolly to your mouth.

Lando wasn't quite sure what was worse. The faint pink colour similar to his cock or the way your tongue travelled down the length of it to collect the melting sugary liquid. Or how your lips pressed up on the tip of the ice and pressed down to take an inch more of it into your mouth as if it was his own cock.

To make matters even worse for him, you had failed to capture some of the melting droplets. Lando keenly watched as they fell to your bare part of your chest and even had landed right where he knew your nipple was. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his breath paced when you frowned at the event and used your finger to wipe the sweet liquid off your skin and into your mouth. Some of it had gone too far down, probably pooling near your breasts like he imagined.

What sent him overboard? When you had spotted the stain on your bikini top over your nipple and attempted to rub it away, only making the stain worse and a small bump for your pebbled nipple.

Lando gulped nervously, pants incredibly tight. He closed his eyes and held his hands over his newly-formed hard on, wishing that his mind wasn't full of everything he had just seen. Your lips... your breasts... the way your eyes looked down at the popsicle... if only that was his cock....

"Lando? Dude, do you need to go to the bathroom?" Pierre's voice cut through the air.

Lando snapped his eyes opened and your eyes looked over to your boyfriend.

"W-What?" The British male queried with slight panic. He was not getting caught with a hard-on in front of his friends... there was no way in Earth...

Pierre raised a brow, gesturing to his pants. "You're ice cream is all melted. You need to take your eyes off Y/N at least sometimes, Lando, otherwise you'll never finish... your ice cream, that is," He teased.

You looked down at Lando's pants where his hands laid, covered in the white vanilla ice cream-turned liquid. You and everyone let out an amused laugh at Pierre's joke, shaking your head.

You stood up from the sandy grass you were sat on, dusting yourself off. You extended your hand to Lando, "Come on. I bought extra stuff in the car. Honestly, I thought you were going to lose your trunks by Daniel pantsing you in the water but I guess not."

A howl of laughter came from Charles and Carlos while Daniel cursed himself for not doing it.

Lando blinked, pulling the finger at his fellow drivers. He sighed, grabbing your hand and awkwardly standing up from the area, managing to cover up his bulge swiftly.

The two of you headed to the car as Lando briefly threw out the sticky wrapper and stick into a bin nearby. You opened the boot of the car, grabbing his trunks. "Jesus, could it get any hotter today?" You asked, closing the back door.

"It really couldn't," Lando mused, walking hand-in-hand with you, making you release a groan.

"Lando... now my hand's all sticky, you idiot," You complained, trying to pull apart from his hand.

Lando rolled his eyes, arriving to the empty males changing room. He was about to enter when he saw you stand outside and not follow him. "What are you doing? Come in."

You narrowed your eyes. "It's a male changing room. I'm not going in. What if there's some old man trying to change? I do not need to be scarred for life. My DMs is enough, thanks."

"First of all, there's no one here," Lando stated before shouting a loud 'Hello' into the room, making you redden with embarassment. "See? Secondly, I'm sorry, let me get this straight, your DMs are full of old men's dicks?" Lando looked at you incredulously.

You grinned, shrugging. "It's called being a woman, Lando. You wouldn't get it."

Lando rolled his eyes once again, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into the changing room.

The room was the opposite of most changing rooms. It was tiled well, clean and fresh as opposed to musty, damp and with paint-chipped walls. There were also no leaky taps or showers or even any graffiti. It was slightly comforting to know that at least people respected some of their public rooms, even in Madrid.

"Wait, also, what if I get old? You don't want to see my shrivelled dick? It should turn you on!" Lando asked with a dramatic gasp.

You looked at your boyfriend through the mirror with a dumfounded expression. Turning, you threw his trunks at his face. "Go change," You laughed, shaking your head.

Lando grinned underneath the trunks as you turned the tap on to wash your sugar-coated hands.

Lando had removed his trunks, left naked with his hard, reddened cock slapping against his stomach, and was about to put on the new ones when a thought passed his mind.

You paused your hand-washing and froze when you felt Lando's arms wrap around your stomach, pulling you close to his bare body. "Lando," You yelped, feeling a shiver cross your body, "What are you doing?"

Lando peered down at you through his thick eyelashes. He tucked his chin into your shoulder, placing a brief kiss. "What?" He asked innocently, "I'm just washing my hands. I can't get the new ones dirty either."

You watched through the mirror as he pressed his body into you, washing his hands under the tap, ridding the tackiness on his hands.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock push into your backside. It was bare, you realised, as the heat spread into you. Your eyes flickered to Lando through the mirror, squinting at him. He wasn't...

Lando caught your eyes staring hard at him. "Don't look at me like that," He whispered into your ear, a loose grin hanging on his face. His wet fingers travelled to the poorly tied lace coverup you wore, undoing the knot with ease. The coverup fell against your shoulders, revealing your bikini and body in all it's glory.

"You have to clean up as well," Lando shrugged, eyes fixated on you through the mirror. "You made a mess," He murmured, wetting his fingers with the water once more before placing it against your chest.

You pressed your lips tightly, feeling his fingers drive down your skin and underneath your bikini top. Lando's fingers brushed your hardened nipples, making you shudder under his touch. His fingers trailed across your breasts, wiping away any of that sticky residue that you had missed. Bringing his fingers to his mouth and taking a wide lick of them, Lando grinned at you. "You know... I can't stop picturing you sucking my dick like that ice lolly. Never thought I would be jealous of an ice lolly."

You couldn't help but smile in amusement. You pulled away from his hold and turned to face your boyfriend. "Yeah?" You hummed, hands trailing down his chest. Lando had been working out a lot more these days for F1; compared to before his abs had become more prominent and toned. You loved Lando no matter what he looked like, but there was something about the way his skin flushed when you touched his torso.

Lando's breath hitched as your hand had ever so naturally found it's way to his cock. His cock, if you could say it, was pretty. It was average in length and with a nice, filling girth, stretching all of your holes wide.

Your fingers brushed across the tip of his head, just grazing his slit. You could feel Lando jolt in your hands as he muttered, “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth, letting a drop of saliva full into his cock. Hand wrapped around it, you gently rubbed natural lube up and down his shaft. Lando’s jaw clenched at the warm liquid nestling around his cock, letting a sharp exhale through gritted teeth.

Slowly you sunk down to your knees. The tiled floor was cold against your burning skin but it didn’t matter: you were too focused on what was right in front of you; cockdrunk. Your tongue darted out to swipe your lips before pressing a light kiss to his cock. Lando could feel himself twitch, aching to be in your mouth.

He watched as your lips opened like they did on that ice lolly. Going down in his cock, your lips stretched and your mouth hollowed.

Lando groaned at the warmth surrounding his cock. He bit down on his lip, watching his cock disappear into your mouth. Your eyes were on him as you sucked him, teeth barely grazing his skin.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this, Y/N," Lando sighed out, "On your knees for me. I can't imagine the mess you made between those legs of yours, hmm?"

You moaned in response, sending a vibration around his cock. You briefly pulled away from him, making Lando grunt in slight annoyance at the loss. "These lips, my pussy.... all yours," You winked at him before returning to his cock.

Lando tensed at your words, letting a grin overtake him. "Yeah? Let's see about that throat, baby?" His hands reached your half dry and half damp, salty hair. Wrapping those long tresses around his hand and wrist, he tightened his grip. He could feel you open up your throat as he guided his cock down the tighter tunnel.

Lando's rasping groan made you clench your thighs, holding a barrier to the wetness leaking at of you. You could feel him begin to move his hips, beginning to push his cock into your throat.

Fighting the urge to gag around his cock, you tried hard to relax your cheeks and mouth, allowing every inch of him to be seated in your throat.

He flickered his eyes to you. Watching you take him in his mouth was a pleasure of its own. Your big eyes were glassy with tears of arousal and a haze of lust, sweat and saliva lingered at every edge of your skin, and your lips were puffy and red. Trailing his eyes further down, he spotted your bare neck in dire need of kisses, but that wasn't the most striking thing about it. It was the slight bulge of his cock in your throat making it's presence known.

Jesus...

Lando instinctively closed his eyes upon feeling your hands touch his balls. You rubbed them gently, feeling your head bob at an increased rate to match the sudden pace of Lando's cock in your throat.

"Fuck, fuck... I..." Lando moaned. "I'm gonna cum!" Lando hissed out, feeling a familiar bubbling feeling overcome. His thrusts become harder and faster, your nose flushed with his skin.

His moans became irregular and higher, chasing his release. "Fuck...." A guttural groan fell from his lips. Hot, salty white strips of his cum coated the inside of your mouth, swirling around after each drop was sucked from your lips. Almost painfully, Lando removed himself from your mouth. His chest rose up and down as he breathed out heavily.

An admiring smile came from Lando while he pulled you up to meet his face. He pushed your sweaty hair back. "That mouth of yours is evil," He narrowed his eyes playfully.

"You should shut me up then," You quipped back, sticking out your tongue that still had his cum on it.

Lando's eyes sparkled with amusement before he brought his lips to yours, darting his tongue into your mouth. The urgency in the action was understated. God, he could taste himself in you. His hands encapsulated your waist, flushing your barely clothed body to close his naked one. Your own hands travelled everywhere across his chest as the two of you kissed each other.

The muffled moans from you made Lando want to hear them out loud. Slowly he moved from your lips to your jaw. "Let me hear you, baby," He breathed out, placing smaller kisses as he reached your neck.

You let out a small whimper, neck tilting so Lando could get more access. Lando grinned at the sight of your bare neck, leaving small little nibbles across your skin. His lips eventually became settled in an area between your ear and collarbone, beginning to suck at your warmth.

"Lando," You moaned, "No, the others will realise."

Your refutes were ill-attempted even for yourself. You were dazed at the suction of his lips. His nose buried into your neck while he created a fresh layer of purple against your sun-kissed skin.

Lando released himself from your neck, eyeing down his creation with a smirk. "There. If they couldn't tell from your hair, they'll definitely know now."

You narrowed your eyes, turning to the mirror only for your eyes to widen in shock. "Jesus fucking Christ, Lando," You peered at the big purple brown splotch on your skin. "As if the 20 minutes we've spent here wasn't enough," You whined.

Lando laughed softly, standing behind you with his arms around your waist and chin resting on your head. "Well... if you make it through the shame, I can't wait to properly fuck you when we get home. You must know how much I love the way you look when I’m inside you."

Your head fell against his chest with a pout. "Why not now?"

Lando grinned before pressing a kiss to your head "Like you said... it's been 20 minutes."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris

[usedtobecooler]

(I know you don't write for Steve but this just came to me) What about Steve teaching virgin!reader how to blow virgin!Eddie?!

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), handjobs, blowjobs, inexperienced virgin reader, inexperienced virgin eddie, experienced pushy steve, awkward boners, bullying, mutual pining.

Word Count | 2.8k

A/N | i've never written for steve before and i took this and ran with it lmao, i hope i did your prompt justice!! if any of you see any mistakes, no you didn't, this wasnt proof read.

Eddie and Steve's relationship had always been odd. You'd noticed it from the first time you'd ever hung out with them, when Robin had dragged you along to meet her friends. You hadn't known her for long, but Robin was loud and unabashed and adamant you had to come hang out with her outside of work.

When you'd first clapped eyes on them both, you noticed the air seemed thick between them. The way they'd bite at each other constantly, bicker and call each other names, the way Steve's eyes would linger on Eddie's lips a second longer than what would be deemed appropriate.

It seemed like a constant fight for dominance, especially when the kids were around. A battle of who Dustin loved more, who Mike looked up to more, who Max harbored a secret 'big brother' liking to more. It was a constant game, and you wondered if they even liked each other.

Then, sometimes, they'd be sweet with each other. Steve would knock Eddie back with a gentle hand when he was about to stumble over a curb, Eddie would grab Steve a burger even when he said he wasn't hungry. Steve would even help him set up the D&D table, he didn't understand what it was about and never played, but he'd help anyway. Even when Eddie bitched that the way he did it was wrong.

So, it was weird. The more time you spent together, the more you found yourself being sucked into the dynamic unwillingly. Robin said she could tell Eddie had a crush on you, which made you blush -- he was cute, and surprisingly really nice despite the hard exterior, but Steve caught onto it pretty quickly and used it to his advantage during their bickering.

You'd walked in on them arguing about you one day, when they clearly thought they were alone. You stood behind the doorway, eavesdropping;

"What would she want with you, Munson? You're a twenty year old virgin, trust me she's not interested."

"Oh yeah? As opposed to what, exactly? The town slut? As if you're any better than me because you've fucked every girl our age."

"At least I didn't jizz in my pants when she gave me a hug."

"That didn't fucking happen, and if you tell her that I'll kill you."

"Ooh, scary."

The admission of Eddie being a virgin was unsurprising, chicks weren't exactly queuing up outside his trailer to fuck him. But, he was pretty, like devastatingly so. Once you got to know him he was a great guy, smarter than he made himself out to be and nothing like the people of Hawkins claimed he was.

The next time you all hung out together, three joints deep and a bottle of scotch being passed around, you made a point of also admitting to being a virgin, to make Eddie feel better. Steve had stared at you open mouthed and flustered, Eddie had choked on his gum, Robin had watched it all unfold and let out a loud barking laugh.

You'd hoped that it would settle Eddie's mind and maybe get Steve to back off and stop hounding him about it, particularly in front of you.

And now, how you ended up in this situation is fully Robin's fault and she'll get told that when you next see her. Her and Nancy had bowed out of your designated movie night ungracefully, claiming to be slammed with babysitting Holly at last minute, but you knew better.

The three of you were crammed up on Steve's bed, and you're wondering why he and Eddie willingly chose to sit next to each other, so close their arms were squashed together and their legs knocked. You were watching The Lost Boys, at Steve's adamance, because apparently it was the horror movie of the year, but you begged to differ, nothing exciting had happened yet.

It gets to a sex scene, and you awkwardly shuffle from where you're sat next to Eddie, cheeks burning hot as you avert your eyes from the screen. Neither of them notice, enamored with seeing a pair of tits on the screen like a pair of twelve year olds.

Your fingers accidentally brush Eddie's own, and you shoot back like you've been scalded, "Sorry, Eddie." You whisper quietly, settling back into your pillow with an inch of space between your bodies for safe measure.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, which catches Steve's attention, making him turn away from the screen to look at you both, eyes flitting back and forth. Then, a scoff escapes him, "Trust you to pop a boner at a pair of fucking tits, Munson."

You furrow your brows, glancing down to where Steve's eyes wandered and oh. Eddie was hard, straining against the loose plaid pyjama pants that he always wore when you guys hung out at night, refusing to buy a pair of sweatpants.

Eddie's face is flushed a dark red, you can see it as clear as day from the glare of Steve's TV, "Fuck off, Harrington. They're a nice pair of tits."

"You're such a virgin, you want some help with that?" Steve wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and you think it's meant to come out as a joke but the way Steve says it seems anything but. He looks at you over Eddie's shoulder, motioning towards him, clamping a hand down on his leg, "Don't you think it's about time he got touched by something that wasn't his right hand?"

You flounder a little, unable to form proper thoughts at what Steve is insinuating, "What do you mean? That I should help him with that? I'm the unwilling third party here, keep me out of your homoerotic bullshit."

"We could both do it, silly. Was it not totally obvious that he's got a massive crush on you?" Steve shrugs like it's nothing, and you feel Eddie tensing up next to you, can see his cock straining further in his pants out of the corner of your eye. In that moment it clicks for you that they're both into this, have probably been waiting a while to find themselves in this situation, with you specifically.

"At this point I think you have a crush on him, you're so obsessed with him it's hilarious." You snark, leaning forward a little until you're crowded back in Eddie's space, hands bumping each others, "What do I get out of this, exactly?"

Steve looks you up and down, a cute grin gracing his face, "Trust me, you can have anything you want."

You chew on the inside of your lip, genuinely thinking about it. Did you really want your first time doing anything sexual with another person to be in a threesome? You clench your thighs at the thought, a wave of heat flushing through your body at the thought of being touched by four hands at once, two mouths.

You wonder how Eddie feels, he's uncharacteristically quiet. You hazard a glance back down, and Eddie has his hand clamped over Steve's own on his thigh. So, yeah, clearly he's into it too.

"Aw, c'mon, don't you want to show the freak a good time?" Steve asks, a smirk overcoming his features — it's disgustingly attractive, a far cry from the usually sweet Steve you knew when Eddie wasn't around, but it did things to you, made your tummy clench.

"Steve, I've never done this either... you know that," You pull your bottom lip with your teeth, chewing anxiously. It's not as if Eddie had anything to compare you to, you were both a pair of bumbling touch starved virgins, but you didn't want it to be bad for him, either.

"Harrington, if you don't stop rubbing my thigh I'm gonna cum in my pants," Eddie's voice cuts through the air, loud enough to knock you out of your trance and making you look up at him, taking in just how disheveled he was already from the merest touch.

"I'll show you how to do it," Steve says, completely ignoring Eddie's protests, never taking his eyes off of you as he brushes his hand up Eddie's thigh even higher, knocking his clothed hard dick with the back of his hand. Eddie hisses, Steve grins and lets out a cackle, "Won't take much, anyway, not if this is anything to go by."

"I am right here," Eddie balks, throwing his hands up in the air. Steve shushes him, shoving into Eddie's space like an eager puppy to grip at his pants and pull them down his thighs.

Of course Eddie doesn't wear underwear under them, why would he? His cock springs out, flushed and hard, the tip a pretty pink colour that makes your mouth water, a small amount of precum blurting out of his slit.

"You guys good with this?" Steve double checks, Eddie whines a little, which is enough of a reply for Steve. You don't even reply, batting Steve out of the way with one hand and wrapping your other one eagerly around the base of Eddie's dick - which to your delight elicits the prettiest little moan from his mouth.

"Eager little thing, isn't she?" Steve smirks at Eddie, which in return has you rolling your eyes and Eddie nodding his head fast. You slide your hand up the length of Eddie's cock slowly, shocked by how your fingers don't even wrap around it fully, all girthy and nice to touch.

"Right, you've not got enough lube for your hand to glide properly, here," Steve leans forward, mouth just mere centimetres away from Eddie's dick, and he lets out a glob of spit onto the head.

"Fuck, what the fuck," Eddie's words comes out erratic, eyes wide as he watches Steve spit all over him without a care in the world, like this was normal and something 'bros' did. Your hand squeezes the base of his cock a little to focus his attention back on you, hand sliding up to rub in the mess of Steve's spit and get him all nice and wet.

"There you go, see? Much easier." Steve's cocky demeanor is starting to diminish, you can tell by the way his voice comes out softer as he watches your skin connect with Eddie's, the slick slide of your fist up and down his cock. You feel Steve's large hand ghost over your lower back, under your shirt. You gasp quietly at the touch, the burning heat of his skin on yours making you shiver.

"Does this feel okay?" You ask Eddie quietly, ignoring what Steve just said because what the fuck would he know, it's not his dick being touched.

"Feels good, sweetheart, cross my heart." Eddie's cheeks are tinged rouge red, neck veins popping a little as he clearly struggles not to blow his load. You can see Steve looking back and forth between you both with curious eyes, smile still on his face, clearly enjoying watching a pair of virgins going at it like a creep.

"Do you want me to use my mouth?" You ask tentatively, cocking your head to the side as you keep eye contact with Eddie to try and gauge how he feels. It's meant to be innocent, comes out dirty. Dirty enough that Steve's hand moves to grip at your waist slightly, a soft sigh escaping him.

"You'd like that, right Eddie?" Steve's smile is sickly sweet, but you can tell he's starting to fold because he's using Eddie's real name, not his last name or a stupid nickname. Eddie nods silently, eyes shutting and head thumping back against Steve's plush headboard.

You slide down the bed quietly, shuffling until you're nestled in between Eddie's spread legs at an angle that meant you could just lean forward and slide your mouth over his length, "Tell me what to do then, genius."

"Take your hand off him, I'll do that, you just put your pretty mouth to use," Steve's slender fingers move yours out of the way until you're releasing Eddie's cock, his own large hand wrapping around the base and squeezing, making Eddie whimper.

Steve guides Eddie's dick over to rub the tip over your closed lips, smearing precum all over them. Your tummy clenches, ridiculously turned on by what you're doing, unable to stop your mind racing. You feel dizzy, like this is a dream you'll wake up from any moment.

"What're you waiting for? Wrap your lips around the head, give it a try." Steve's demanding, his voice firm with you, so you lean down and close the distance, opening your lips and sinking down onto the head, hot mouth engulfing Eddie's cock.

"Jesus Christ, fuck," Eddie cries out, can't help but open his eyes to look at you, has to see what you're both doing. The sight of Steve's massive fist around his cock, jerking it lightly into your mouth, you sucking and licking at him - he's teetering on the edge dangerously fast.

"Feels good, right?" Steve chuckles a little, looking between where his fist and your mouth meet and Eddie's blown out, wide eyes, "She didn't even need any help, knew just what do on her own like a good girl."

You and Eddie both moan in unison, the vibration on Eddie's cock enough to have his hips bucking up wildly, which in turn causes Steve to reach his free hand out and push him down onto the bed harshly, "Don't cum yet, Munson. Don't be a little bitch."

Eddie chokes out a little sob, whining at Steve being mean to him. It makes his body run hot, the coil in his tummy tighten. You glance up at him, mouth still full of his cock, just to make sure he's okay, and the bit of eye contact has Eddie losing it.

"Sorry, fuck, sorry, I'm cumming," Eddie grips at a chunk of Steve's meaty thigh and he comes with an embarrassingly loud yelp, Steve's hand tightening as he jerks Eddie's cock into your open, willing mouth, swallowing his release down like you'd done it a million times before.

You kitten lick at the head until Eddie shakes with sensitivity, popping off with a little grin, "You good? Back down to earth yet?"

Eddie smiles dumbly, saluting at you with two fingers, body completely sagged into Steve's plush sheets, flaccid cock still out, "Alive but barely."

You clamber up the bed, the sudden urge to kiss him overtaking your body. You fist a hand in his messy curls, pulling him up to kiss you. Eddie wraps an arm around your back, kissing you all sloppy, teeth and tongue, to an outsider it probably looked gross, but it was so hot to you that you wanted to cry.

You break apart to catch a breath, forehead to forehead with wild eyes and stupid little smiles on your faces. You ache with how much you like Eddie, a love for him overtaking your whole body. Steve clears his throat at your side, pulling you out of your trance, making you turn to look at him.

He's got a firm hand gripped into the arm of Eddie's shirt, you can see his own cock tenting in his loose sweatpants and God, it's big and intimidating, even through his clothes.

"Don't be greedy, share it with me," Steve closes the space between you both and smashes his lips onto yours, licking into your mouth expertly to swipe over your tongue. You moan into the kiss, cunt clenching at being used in this way. He kisses more firmly than Eddie, more sure of himself, it's nice in a different way.

Just as you're getting lost in it Steve pulls away, a whine dying in your throat when you open your eyes to see his face gliding closer to Eddie's, and then they're kissing too. Steve grapples for your waist with closed eyes, tugging you even closer to them both.

They're animalistic with each other, like they're both angry and filled with pent up rage. Eddie grips a hand in Steve's mane of hair, has him groaning into the kiss that's all teeth and grunting. You watch through hooded eyes, unable to take your gaze away from them, wetness pooling in your pretty underwear at the sight of them both.

A whine escapes you, the noise filling the air and cutting off their kiss, both of them looking at you with differing gazes. Steve looks like he wants to pin you down and fuck you into oblivion, Eddie looks like he's in love. Steve sits up a little, grabbing at you and Eddie with every free bit of his big hands, fingers roaming unabashedly.

Steve glances at you both, a smirk back to gracing his features, "If you think I'm done with you two yet, you're sorely mistaken."

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie smut #steddie x you #steddie x reader #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x y/n #my fanfic #mine #smut

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

IT’S YOU, HAPPY ALL THE TIME ─── jonathan breech ✧☾𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I ask Jessica what drowning feels like and she says not everything feels like something else." — ‘Jessica gives me a chill pill’, Angie Sijun Lou.

pairing. jonathan breech x reader

summary. you’ve bared your heart to your bestfriend, jonathan, more times than you can count, whilst knowing practically nothing at all about him. what is friendship if it is not equal… what is love if it is not returned? can your relationship survive such one-sidedness?

warnings. swearing, TW mention & description of suicide/attempts & depression, very introspective/kind of a character study???, alcohol & drug use, pining, ANGST!!!!, crying, fluff, smut with feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 10k (WTF??!?!!??)

a/n. the title is from “she won’t go away” by faye webster:) btw this is… rly angsty (and SO long omg im still in shock) so beware🫡 ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN WHILE!! SCHOOL IS KICKING MY BUTT & THIS FIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER TO WRITE LMAO

i. 

There are very few words in your vocabulary you can use to accurately describe Jonathan Breech. 

The boy is an enigma, a matryoshka doll that never ends: he is witty and lighthearted and sarcastic, but you’ll always catch that edge, the air of malaise he carries around himself, the unspoken elephant in the room that screams WHO ARE YOU REALLY?

He had always been more of a figure, a landscape; something to witness, observe-- experience without letting it do the same to you. You don’t know if that’s something you want, either: there’s an imbalance in his hilarity, and he always takes things a step too far. Jonathan lights matches and lets them burn all the way down to his fingertips; he shaves and lets the blade leave stinging little nicks, rivulets of blood running down his neck; he chainsmokes cigarettes in his room and only opens the window when he feels his heart hammering in his chest, desperate for air. 

You meet him — or, first experience him in a similar fashion: he had been in the university library, standing on top of a creaky, old bookshelf, shouting something you couldn’t understand over the music blasting through your headphones. You could certainly see him though, gesturing animatedly, dressed eccentrically in his signature winter trapper hat and a velvet blazer. That thin, effeminate figure of his was making winding, marionette-ish steps along the wood, an action that had everyone readying themselves to catch his inevitable fall. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere and catching you completely off guard, you caught his eye. He began stepping from one shaky shelf to the next, a complete miracle none of them toppled over, before stopping on one close enough for you to read his lips. 

“Hi,” he mouthed, shifting uneasily on his left foot before regaining a steady balance, “you’re in my class, right?”

You nodded, hesitantly— yes, truthfully, you’d seen him in your Introduction to Literary Studies course a couple of weeks ago, sporting the same outfit as he did now, but you thought nothing of him. He’d been generally well-behaved then, asking slightly odd but in-tune questions that more or less answered all your inquiries, so you didn’t think the guy would have a penchant for, well… book-shelf hopping. 

He grinned, about to say something else, before something — or someone, made him flinch. A professor, probably, considering the unintelligibly muffled, booming voice behind you. However, Jonathan made quick work of the situation, sneakily climbing down and escaping out the door. 

The next time you see him, he’s sidled up beside you in your shared class. “Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice had asked, to which you murmured a non-committal knock y’self out, before realizing with wide eyes.  His presence had caught you off-guard, as he so often did, and you sensed a pattern blooming. 

Jonathan certainly made for an odd desk-partner; his personality warped the environment around you, and it was suddenly so much easier to tear your eyes away from the lecture and land on Jonathan’s own. It’s something you never thought you’d ever do, because you adore the material being taught. 

At the end of class, he asks you out for a drink: he’s just found the best Irish stout in the entire city, and what better way to make it known than to take anyone and everyone he knows there?

Rejection is written on your face clear as day— you have class tomorrow, an essay that needs to be finished, and honestly, pubs just aren’t really your scene. 

But in the end… you still bite. You can’t help it: he’s disarming and warm and looks like he should smell like a bonfire. Somehow, that just does it for your brain; it’s here you learn of the charm that is Jonathan Breech. 

That night goes everything and nothing like you expected: you expected not to be able to predict his actions, and that’s exactly what happens. When you meet Jonathan at the aforementioned pub, it’s not actually the one he’s meaning to take you to— it’s just the closest public place to the on-campus dorm, which is where he says he’s rooming. 

“‘ve got a neighbor m’pretty sure is trying to sleep with me,” he says absently, ushering you onto the back of his bike, which had been leaning against a NO PARKING sign. “He’s always toget’er wit’ our dorm advisor, so I should l reject him before I get kicked out, if y’get what I mean.”

Now, you honestly should’ve expected this from a guy who jumped from six-foot book shelves, but Jonathan’s biking is all swift turns and jilted stops, mere milliseconds from repeatedly running red lights. You want to ask if he just learned how to ride the thing yesterday, but can’t, not with how utterly reckless and shameless he is about it, his terrible steering making you instinctively wrap your arms around his chest. 

You clutch him tightly, making him hum in approval, and you feel your ears burn flusteredly. You would’ve pulled away, but then he cut from the right lane to the left in one swift move, barely missing several cars, and you practically shrieked instead. “Oh my god!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. You can’t see his face, having shut your eyes in fear, but after hearing the blatant cheekiness in his tone, you can imagine clear as day how gleefully it contorts. You want to slap him somewhere, anywhere, but that’d defeat the point of being mad at his recklessness, so you squeeze him tighter instead, and he chokes on his breath. “Jesus-- m’sorry, really!”

When the two of you make it to the pub — alive and uninjured! — annoyingly all the way across town, your first few steps off his bike are stuttered, dizzy: “We are-- not going by bike next time,” you gasp, leaning against a random brick wall. 

“Next time, eh?” He grins, and this time you really do slap him— just on the arm, bless your self-control and niceties not to beat this oddly comfortable-to-be-around near-stranger to death. 

The pub, with its forgettable name and dingy stools, has a minimal, lackluster crowd. A kitschy neon sign flickers and dies as you walk in, making you raise a brow, but Jonathan merely drags you by the arm to a cozy corner table, then disappearing deeper within the venue before returning moments later with two pints of black beer in tow.

“Go on, then,” he gestures, setting the tall glass on the table, sitting down in the chair in front of you and taking a hearty sip of his own drink.

You let out a little hesitant sigh at his words, before relenting and taking in a long gulp of the liquid. “…Huh,” you remark, impressed. Jonathan smiled knowingly behind his glass, letting out a smug little ah, you see? 

“Worth the long ride?” he inquired innocently, as if that was the only thing wrong with the night.

“Worth the ride, but not worth almost dying for,” you rolled your eyes goodheartedly, knocking back the rest of the bitter drink and making him whistle. 

The rest of the night goes like this: Jonathan orders two more rounds of the quality Irish stout before the two’ve you are stumbling out of the pub, exploring all the nightlife there is to offer, like the crowd surrounding an out-door live comedy group performing down the street that has you and Jonathan giggling for hours after, or the underground speakeasy you accidentally find yourselves shoved into, a nasally guitarist singing on a smoky stage, several more drinks finding themselves in your system despite how nauseous you already feel.

“You-- d’you fancy him?” Jonathan slurs behind you, steadying himself by pressing his hands to your waist.

“F-fancy who?” you blink blearily, leaning into his warm touch.

“Who else m’I talkin’ about, girl? The singer!”

You shake your head no numbly, practically collapsing into his arms now, your head lulling on his chest. You’re so close you can smell the distinct scent of his skin, that unique musk everyone has, and it’s strangely familiar, like those smells that evoke old, nostalgic memories. It’s like how sunscreen summons the smell of the sun after a childhood beach day, or how vanilla extract takes you back to the smell of your mother’s baked goods on a specific winter evening.

“Reckoned you wouldn’t,” he assumes, hands coming away from your waist to wrap his arms around your shoulders, swaying to the music slightly in the crowded club, “looks like a -- right bleedin’ dope… wit’ that mop of hair.”

You giggle, alcohol riddled beyond belief, unable to formulate a response with the conflicting blurry thoughts in your head: it’s telling you Jonathan Breech isn’t the crowd you want, that you need to go home and work, that you let loose too easily— but it also tells you that you can see yourself becoming friends with him very, very quickly. 

It’s there, in that club, Jonathan Breech moves into your life and fills a gaping hole you didn’t know existed, like a hole in your stockings you only notice when you get home. You have friends, certainly, more than you can count on both hands, but they never get as close as Jonathan does. After that night, an unknown force pulls the two of you together, making you run into him everywhere, and a tight friendship blooms like a lilypad in a raging storm; beauty within the chaos. In the multitude of close friendships you’ve harbored, he is the first to see so many sides of you. The last thing that did was your mother; it had only ever been your mother. 

He is an endearing, amazing friend, both the intent listener and the charismatic speaker all at once; he knows his friends like the back of his hand, can recount their life like he can count the number of moles on his face-- but you, and everyone else, know absolutely nothing about him. 

At least, close to nothing-- you know he likes ice cream and hanging out and going to the pub; you know he likes biking and doing drugs and women; you know he hates the sea and his brother and his father, but you don’t know him. All you’ve ever seen him do is smile or laugh or shout in mock anger; there is a carefully glued mask on his face he takes meticulous caution in preserving-- he is terrified to let go, despite the blasé persona he lets on.

Or maybe the mysterious matter of your bestfriend is tripping you up for no reason; maybe you’re psychoanalyzing something that doesn’t need to be psychoanalyzed, reading between lines that don’t exist. But if you were asked to answer honestly, there’s just something about Jonathan you don’t get. There is a split seam in the tapestry of his life, missing pieces in the story he pretends to tell with utmost accuracy. There are things that he never talks about, that he recoils when asked like you’ve poked a tender wound. 

“So, what were you doing before… all this?” You ask him once, laying on his messy bed in his dorm-room and scanning the water-damage constellations dotted along his popcorn ceiling. By all this you mean going to university, being the resident party boy, aimlessly pursuing a degree you’re 99% sure he picked blindfolded (culinary science) and standing here, with you, snorting a line of something on his creaky wooden desk. 

Jonathan freezes, still hunched over. “What d’you-- what d’you mean?” he says, tone breezy but, uncharacteristically tense… jilted and preoccupied. You could’ve brushed it off as him being seriously focussed on his drugs, but the way he shifts, how his shoulders curl in like he wants to disappear, tells you otherwise. 

“I mean, before going to school here… y’know, what were you like as a dumb teenager?”

You two’re twenty, barely not-teenagers, but it still makes a world of a difference: you’re living away from home, doing what you want, experiencing (a juvenile, naive version of) freedom and adulthood.

“I dunno… kind of a tool, that's f’sure,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose roughly. He’s being funny on purpose, a jester’s distraction: he doesn’t want you to realize his answers’ not really one at all. 

You shifted on his bed, now leaning against his headboard. His answer strikes you as odd and uncharacteristic despite his attempts to evade suspicion: usually, Jonathan pounces at the chance to yap on and on. “What, the great Jonathan Breech doesn’t have any wild stories to tell? No bones broken, girls dumped, houses trashed?” 

He snorted at that, like some inside joke you weren’t privy to was brought up in your words, and he descended back down on a carefully partitioned line of white. “I broke my baby finger once,” he relented vaguely when he finished, dusting off the table and licking the remains off his hand. “I cried and I cried and I cried.”

“Did it hurt that much?” you grinned, mind trailing off to imagine a baby-faced Jonathan Breech, a juvenile highschool boy, doing something silly to break that finger. Maybe he accidentally flung off his bike, broke it because of a dare, or maybe it happened just by slipping and falling. 

“It - uh… didn’t hurt enough,” Jonathan smiled, tight-lipped and paltry. All at once the air in the room had changed, like someone attached a vacuum to the window and sucked everything out. 

Your grin fell, and you watched him carefully: perhaps, had you not been as close to him as you were, he’d have let something show. A twitch in the smile, a break in the facade. But you were, and his face stayed the same, and your thoughts ran circles around themselves. This was… something else, something belonging to the part of his life he didn’t talk about. 

The atmosphere had grown tense, taut, a rubber band twisted ‘round and round, threatening to burst, so you leave the matter of his injury alone; of his life alone. You go back to staring at his ceiling, he goes back to his drugs; Jonathan collapses within himself, and you don’t notice how badly he suffocates… how suffering in silence is also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found.

ii.

Sometimes, despite his self-imposed distance, Jonathan lets someone look inside his head. 

You are both the sometimes and the someone; you don’t know why it’s always you, but you chalk it up to the fact that beneath his unpredictable demeanor, the murky and unreadable feelings he holds for others, is this uncharacteristic constant: he holds a softness for you. It’s what lets you know there’s something haunted lurking beneath his happy-go-lucky surface. 

You don’t know where this softness comes from, either. But you know you see it, in lingering touches, tender duchenne smiles unlike the devilish tilt his lips usually hold, how he clasps his hand around yours after a night at the pub and walks you home because he knows you get paranoid. You see it in how he comes over to your apartment when you don’t answer anyone's calls during exam season, how he remembers what your mother’s name is and what your childhood pet was and what your favorite flowers are. How his lips brush past your cheek when he pulls away from hugs, his hands shuddering around your shoulders, like he’s afraid he’ll crush you.

You only wish you could do the same. You want to sit by his side and mend his heart, lend an ear to his most mundane fears, you want to take his hand into your own and kiss it softly, return all that he has done for you, take the same as you have given to him: what is friendship if it is not equal, what is love if it is not returned? It is something broken, unable; split halves of one heart, an imbalance in the scale, Bonnie without her Clyde, a fish out of water. 

Jonathan pours his heart into your own, filling holes you know you don’t have, and you think he may be overcompensating for something else, seeing things in you that really belong to him. It is maddening, and you just want to beg and plead he lets you in. 

But you settle for the gentle pokes, the prodding, and try to decipher the vague answers he gives you. Most days, you can’t really make sense of it. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, about to leave the outing you planned with Jonathan — studying, or, trying to study, at an intimate coffeebar the two of you frequented — “my dad’s gotten drunk with his lads and my mum needs help dragging him home.”

 “Hey, hey, don’t worry. I get it: my dad used to do that all the time,” he waves your words off casually, but you don’t miss how jilted he says used to and the pain in his tone at all the time.

“Oh, surely she was fit to go to the madhouse?” you laughed once, responding to Jonathan’s complaints about an eccentric classmate in his agricultural studies. He laughs back, he always does, but this one is hollow, forced; barely stopping a grimace from coloring his tone. 

You notice these things like it’s a shadow following someone in the sun. He is lying, hiding; about something you don’t know but it is happening. It is happening, and you are so very curious: you pick up on the littlest tendrils of him, fed wholly on any information you can squeeze out. He is a mystery you want to delve within completely; answer that question of WHO ARE YOU REALLY? and leave no room for error. 

You’d give yourself to him the very same if he merely asked; you’d whisper childhood fears and tell the origin stories of faded scars on your knees and why you check under your bed before sleeping. You’d detail your entire life from sunset birth to starry night end if he even made a passing comment about knowing; you would trust your love, your heart, your entire life in his beautiful, shaky hands. This is the relationship you have built around yourselves, and it is beginning to feel terribly one-sided. 

Alas, your curiosity overwhelms him, and you take it too far, just once. Only once. 

“Where’d this come from?” you murmur, brushing your fingers over a scar above his eyebrow. It’s something you see only now, his hair mussed and wild from the various blankets and pillows on your dinky couch. 

He’s crashing at your apartment tonight, an invited event, because you often miss him like you miss home; the boy is sneaky— he slinks away like a street cat and only comes back for food. It’s only fair he lets you wrangle him back like this, making him stay by your side at least once a week.  

Your words make him freeze, like he often does; it reminds you of hikers, who freeze when they see mountain lions— he thinks if he stops and stares and pretends to disappear you’ll look the other way, drop the question, forget him completely.

But you don’t. You don’t know what’s affecting him -- not that he wants you to -- so you just stare back into his cornflower blue eyes. You stop and stare and see right through him; you hold the question like a knife to his neck, and commit him to memory. 

“The scar?” Jonathan pales, shuddering despite it having long since been healed over. The aftershocks of an earthquake. 

You simply nod, fingers pulling away. You’re still closer than ever though, the two of you being the only things in your cramped concrete apartment, the chosen movie on your telly still running and long forgotten. 

Your attention remains on him, brandished into something dangerous, like you’ll carve the answer out of him if you have to— but the moment passes. He doesn’t say anything and you accept that as the answer. Gone is your razor-sharp focus, and there is nothing more to the matter. 

But Jonathan doesn’t register this, no, he’s thinking, gears in his head turning and creaking. His tongue grazes against the backs of his teeth, jaw chattering like it was as cold as it was when… as cold as it was back then, and he doesn’t want to tell anyone— but it’s you. You’re not just anyone. 

You’re the one he holds a certain softness for. The one he equally bares his heart to and holds the most secrets from. The one he’s most terrified to know. The only one he wants to know. 

So, he decides to tell a partial truth— something digestible. People adore that which can easily slide down the gullet: news headlines don’t detail the goriness of a murder, they give the “insider” scoop of the scared neighbor. To be able to digest information is what makes the world go round, and he does not think you could digest the full truth-- he does not think he wants you to. 

He feels ill at the thought of anything between you changing— oh, how ruined he’d feel if you began treating him like fucking glass.

This abhorrent social pressure is what makes Jonathan grit this sentence through his teeth: “I got into a car accident,” he gulps dry, “when I was nineteen. Was drunk… went fer a spin. I skidded off a -- um, an empty highway. The tall sorts; high up, y’know. Fell.”

His voice makes you look back up at him, and your eyes are beautiful and tense— it breaks his heart. He knows you’re probably thinking it was in-character, how expected that is of Jonathan Breech, how you’ll easily take this partial truth, how you’ll never know the full one until it comes in a letter under your door and he’s long gone. 

“Tell me,” you ask him, lips falling into a near-frown instead of laughing or grinning wider. It’s hushed, whispered like a secret, “What did it feel like? Falling, I mean.”

Jonathan licks his lips, bores his shaking gaze into your own, and tells you not everything feels like something else. That the word connotes all you need to know. Falling meant he was falling; his arms raised and the air took him and that was it. 

It makes your brows twist and your lips press into a thin line: his nonchalance is worrying, no more his signature characteristic— there is something wrong about this apathy toward injury, toward the potential death. 

“Is that how you broke your finger?” You murmur, and it startles him. How you pieced the two things together, how you weaved a web from what little you knew about him; how futile his attempts to hide could be.

“What?” he responds, hoarse. There is a lurking shadow in his bones telling him he’ll taint you, telling him to be ashamed, telling him how badly you will never be his. It is such a damning reality, that no matter how much he may yearn for you, he is too incomplete to meet your needs; he is too hurt not to hurt you too. 

“The car accident. Is that how you broke your pinkie?” you repeat, and you gripped his hand resting at your side, bringing it up to present the finger to him like he forgot where his pinkie was. 

Jonathan’s gaze darts from you to the finger, and he feels his insides quiver; so badly does he want to spill his entire soul to you. But that internal reminder -- hurt people hurt people hurt people -- makes him settle for nodding, parted lips locking closed. 

Nothing special happens that night, no shocking revelation or bombarded confession; Jonathan nods, keeps his lips sealed, and gets up from the couch, figure dreary and fatigued. He murmurs an incomplete excuse, something half-baked and blatantly unconvincing that he has to leave, and you let him go. You think you’re imagining the shudder in his shoulders, the shake in his voice as he says goodbye, and you let him go. 

It’s there, like that club so long ago, you discover another thing about Jonathan Breech: push too far and he shuts down, closes shop and puts up his guard forever. It’s the mere fact of how attentive you are to his words; you remember how he broke his finger, and he realizes he cannot hide from you any longer. 

You’re reaching a point in your friendship -- your relationship, no matter platonic or romantic for all lines have been crossed; nobody is so raw to one another with love not involved -- where you’ll bare your hearts on your sleeves, share your every thought and dream and fear. But Jonathan won’t be able to reciprocate, and the very thought of rejecting you, betraying you, makes his stomach twist in knots. That crestfallen face of yours would haunt him for all time, your every melancholy feature burning into his memory like the scars left by cigarettes on skin.

So he leaves, hurt people hurt people hurt people echoes in his ears all the way home; he turns into an alleyway shortcut and prays death swoops down and takes him right there. He leaves his consciousness curled lovingly in your arms; his shell walks home and prays you’re none the wiser. But you’ve already reached that point in your relationship; you already know. 

When people die, or friendships do, sometimes they end with just a goodbye, a mild, casual goodbye because you think there’ll be dozens, hundreds more-- but there won’t be. Suddenly, alone in that cramped apartment, the buzzing from the tv filling your ears, your couch still warm from someone long gone, you know.

You know you startled him, that he’s left your apartment and he’ll never come back. Your heart cools, and she whispers that you took it too far, that you crossed a line you were never made aware of, that when you see him in class tomorrow he might not sit next to you, he might not talk to you, that you might lose him forever because he is too stubborn to open up and you are too stubborn to let him go. 

Well, you were too stubborn to let him go. 

It’s three weeks before you speak to Jonathan again. Three long, dragging weeks, moments in time where he avoided your gaze, evaded your presence, slipped past you before you got too close. You certainly try, of course— you seek him out every chance you get, trying to get an I’m sorry, please talk to me out before he runs off, but it’s virtually impossible.

Once, after class, you’d caught him in the middle of a flurry of exiting students by the velvet blazer, your hands curled around the lapel. “Jonathan,” you panted, trying to drag him off to the side to escape the bustling activity around you, “please, we need to talk--“

But then Jonathan had faced you, eyes widened and spooked like he’d seen a ghost, a never-before-seen-by-you fear covering his gracefully cut features, before he tugged off the black blazer and escaped into the crowd. He had seen you, widened his eyes, left. Such a simple action tore your heart in two; it had confirmed your suspicions— you’d gone too far, he was never coming back, and you were all alone. There you stood, fingers wrapped around one of his favorite articles of clothing starkly without its beloved owner, completely alone. 

In three measly weeks, he has put up a biting winter of distance between you two. 

Your feelings are unable to comprehend themselves— they fight and sob and run circles around your mind, they make you doubt, crumble, devour yourself from the inside out; they make you ask yourself what you can do to salvage this, what can you do to fix this? What is there to make of him, of his behavior; what do you do with yourself and this guilt?

If you could imagine time was a construct, you were certain you could convince yourself this stretch of time was nothing… propel yourself into a present where Jonathan does not afflict your mind, take over your every thought— does not ruin you like so. If only you could do that, you could close your eyes and reopen them when you’ve let go. But you were always too stubborn to let him go, weren’t you?

It’s three weeks to the day before you speak to Jonathan again, and it happens through the crack of his dorm door, your arm wedged through it because you know he is not cruel; he will let you in without a doubt.  

“Please,” you plead to Jonathan, “just— I just want to talk. Please?”

He stares at you straight, expression cold and reserved, before he breaks and pulls away; bites his lip, lets you in his room, doesn’t look you in the eye. Looking around, you sense something in his dorm has changed; it had gained a bereft quality, like it was attuned to Jonathan’s state of mind and felt depressed beyond your comprehension. There was a cold air to the place, an utmost frigid demeanor to a room incredibly warm just weeks prior. In your absence, the dorm had been neglected, gutted, abandoned. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that tumble out of your mouth. “I- I know you don’t like… talking about -- about your life before here, and I’m sorry. But please, Jonathan, just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

He sits down on the edge of his weak bedframe, pulling his knees up and pressing his face into them. “You don’t need to-- don’t… don’t apologize. You don’t need t’make it better, either. All’s grand.” he promises, words muffled and shaky. It’s a weeping kind of tone; you could just as easily imagine him sobbing with that voice. 

Your brows knit. Your emotions are wavering, treading brutally between disbelief, despair and rancor. “Then -- then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you avoid me? Why did you - why did we spend these last three weeks playing cat and mouse, if you weren’t mad at me? Is this your sick idea of a joke?”

“No! I-- jesus christ,” Jonathan looked up from his hands before immediately pressing two fingers between his eyes, “I wasn’t … avoiding you.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks!” you point out painfully, exasperated. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me for longer than this. You— you push me away any chance you get. You’re afraid. I don’t know of what, but you’re- so fucking secretive, and it’s tearing me apart.”

“I’m not - afraid of anything. I’m just a private person— you know this. Would you, if I ‘pushed you away?!’” 

At his denying deflection, something within you snaps: “Why won’t you - fucking let me in? I’ve — I’ve bared my soul to you; you know me from the inside out. I trust you with my life— why, why can’t you do the same?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! And I didn’t — I didn’t mean t’get so close to you, okay?!” He bursts, and you flinch. His hands shakily come up to his face once more; he wipes roughly but it’s no use— you’ve already seen his delicate tears threatening to spill, and it burns more holes in your heart than you thought his suffering would.

“What are you talking about?” you pry, now without any cautious reservations about his demeanor.

“I didn’t mean to get so fucking attached, because - ‘cause I…” Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “fuck.”

“What?” you repeat, but it’s softer, concerned; how quickly his body language shifted from irritated to terrified has you scrambling to support him. “Talk to me,” you ask, taking nervous steps closer, like you were approaching a wounded animal.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, like he did cigarette smoke, before exhaling heavily. “Okay- okay. When I was - nineteen, I drove a car… I drove off a cliff and tried t’kill myself. I was-- admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a year, and when I got out I moved here f’school. I- I… promised m’self I wouldn’t let anyone get too close.”

The confession hangs in the air, a lonely little thing; it’s a bleeding piece of his own heart he’s plucked and placed in your palms. He shudders, and you want to nurture it like nothing else. This is a culmination of a year’s worth of evasion coming to a close; you’re seeing him completely, rawly, for the first time.

“But- but why? You don’t have to— Jonathan, you don’t need to do that just because you - you… y’know.”

“I’m- I know that,” he starts brashly, defensively. “It’s b’cause I am very, very aware of my - of m’own self destructiveness…” His words taper off into something of grief; the Sisyphean struggle of wanting to live, while that depressive boulder pushes him back, colors him completely. “I just… I didn’t want to - t’hurt anyone in case I -- in case next time I succeeded.”

“Next time?” you repeat, and your voice broke in a way you wish was less vulnerable, less blatantly miserable.

“This is why I didn’t want to—“ Jonathan sighs, deflates, “I’m not telling you this because I want you to - t’fucking save me, okay? I’m telling you this because you wanted to know, and I couldn’t hide from you anymore. Because you asked.”

“You didn’t need t’hide it in the first place!” you exclaimed, coming closer to him. “You’ve never had to hide a fucking ‘ting from me.”

“You wouldn’t have understood!” He said back, volume nearing a shout. “You’ll treat me differently now, you see, you’ll look at me fuckin’ different—“

It made your heart sink-- how sure his words were, how certain he was of your rejection. How little trust did he have in you? 

(You remember he wanted to sink, too-- lose himself in the baby blue sea; let it swallow him whole and never be seen again.)

“You - you really think I’ll treat y’differently because of this? You know my every crevice, my every thought-- I have never once doubted that you’ll accept me.”

“I-I… why should I - expect any of this to stay the same?”

Suddenly, you took his face into your hands. “Because I-- I fucking love you, okay? And it’s not just friendly, or romantic, even if it’s both— I’m… I love you like nothing I’ve ever loved before. I accept and adore your every skill and flaw and antic; you wormed your way into my heart and I want to worm my way into yours.”

“That doesn’t mean—“ Jonathan tried to interject, a noise all utter disbelief. You cut him off, though, continuing your sudden confession; you hadn’t been privy to these own romantic feelings of yours till moments prior, but everything being said just felt right. 

“Jonathan, I don’t care if you drove a car off a cliff or cyanide-poisoned our professor or blew something up, because I love you. You, with all your problems and great, big, beautiful life. All I want is for you to want that life; I want you to want me in it. I feel it in my bones that I’m meant to love you; you are meant to be my home, you are everything I am supposed to know. It won’t fix you or fix anything at all but I just need you to know-- I need you to know the why to my every action. It’s because I love you.”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, head resting in your gentle hold. “I - don’t know what to say… are you - for real?”

“As real as can be,” you smiled back at him, tracing circles along his smooth skin; you could’ve drank in that attentive stare of his for hours upon hours. “I love you, and nothing and no-one, not even you, can change that.” An aching grip had clenched around your heart at his words, that blatant disbelief: are you for real? God, had you ever been-- had you ever fucking been. 

Jonathan’s mouth opened to speak, but instead, he let out an agonizing sort of cry; an exclamation of utter surprise at the loving acceptance. Then, he hesitantly leaned into your touch, as if he’d never hugged before, wrapping his arms around your waist to snatch you as close to him as possible. He held you tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, like this was all a mocking dream his yearning mind had made up; that if he closed his eyes now he’d wake up desolate, alone, without you for eternity. His worst nightmare. 

“…God, I’m so - fucking stupid,” he grumbled, sounding angry, but you could feel vulnerable, hot tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “To assume you, of all people, would act that way… you of all people.” He said that tenderly; you of all people certainly meant miles more things you weren’t explicitly aware of, but you still felt the sentiment. “I’m not -- poetic or anything like that… but I love you, too.”

You chuckled a beautiful, wet laugh. “You don’t hafta’ say anything sweet or special. You’re everything to me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you onto the mattress with him. He flipped you beneath him, and held himself up by the forearms laying on either side of your head. “Fuck, I love you. I love you.” Jonathan repeated the words several more times, strange and foreign but right at home being said to you. Like his mouth was made to only ever say I love you to you. 

Suddenly, you pressed your lips to his, shutting him up momentarily. You could still feel the vibrations of I love you rumbling in his throat as you kissed him. Your tongues danced along one another, an all consuming waltz; you wanted to know everything about him, down to the taste of his tongue, memorize how sweet his mouth felt on yours. Oh, how you longed for this moment; how could you ever think about love again, and yearn for it, without thinking of Jonathan?

You reckoned that’s what this had been the whole time; your love started as a little flame, something under the guise of friendship, but the two of you had fanned it, nurtured it-- all of a sudden the miniature warmth of platonic love burst into a raging, adoring fire. You’d fed this flame with tenderness, and it responded in kind; you could never again look at Jonathan without a certain intimate reverie. Perhaps that’d been why Jonathan found it so hard to cut off this relationship as he had dozens others: something primal and unconscious within him had begged him not to let you go— some higher being knew his home was only ever in your arms. 

Jonathan deepened the kiss hungrily, pressing his weight onto you and pushing you into the mattress. Your head was spinning from the lack of air, and one of your hands had to sneak beneath his hat and tug at his hair to get him to stop. “Hey,” you panted, looking worriedly into his eyes, “what’s up?”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, hanging his head lowly for a moment before meeting your gaze once more, batting his long lashes. “Jus’ missed you. Thas’ all.”

“Missed y’too,” you murmured, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Your hands left the crown of his head and trailed down his backside, tracing over the curves and bumps of his frumpy yellow v-neck sweater. 

That touch of yours seemed to spur him on even more, and his kisses began to travel; along your jaw, to your pulse, down the long ravine of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of your collarbone, making you squeal. He chuckled against your skin, a genuine amusement rather than the mocking one you two so frequently practiced, and it all went downhill from there. His hands skillfully tugged off your tank top, knee between your clenched thighs, more teasing kisses being planted along your now bare -- save for your bra -- chest.

You didn’t mean to come over, profess your love and suddenly jump into a steamy, yearning makeout session (which, you were pretty sure was venturing off into sex…) but you supposed that apologizing— arguing, whatever —meant your relationship went back on track to wherever it was heading… which may have been set to end with an ardor romance anyway. This love of yours would’ve bursted at the seams of friendship; it could not be confined by such mere things as labels. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, arching into his teasing kisses along the peaks of your breasts, his hands ghosting around your clothed chest but never touching. “Please, Jon.”

You could feel his cheeky grin on your skin, “Tell me what you want, love.”

“…Take this off,” you demanded gently, referring to Jonathan’s sweater.

“Your wish is my command.” he snickered, obliging and removing the yellow knit-- as well as his white undershirt and pajama bottoms. He was left in a pair of boxer-shorts and that silly, silly winter-trapper hat, his fingers sneaking up to your supple thighs and tickling the edges of your jean-shorts; a silent plea. 

“Eager,” you mumbled, noticing his over-compliance in completely stripping, smiling and guiding his hands to the waistband of your shorts to tug the tight article off. 

When he did so, you shivered, both at the feeling of being only in your underwear, as well as Jonathan’s sharp, attentive gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he panted, eyes exploring your every sweet feature. 

He was enamored with your bare body, not in a sexual way despite the blatantly sexual situation, but rather in a worshiping, religiously devoted way. It may’ve been blasphemous to think so, but Jonathan’s sudden chaste kisses along the curve of waist only seemed to prove you right; his mouth on you was gentle, like he’d held you before, except now without any guilt or hesitation. It was a holy way of loving you; something all-consuming, becoming the epicenter of a life, becoming the purpose, motivation, and belief all at once. 

That familiar broiling in your gut occurred as he made his way closer to the pulsing, lace-covered place between your legs; your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in pure anticipation, his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “Don’t be such a tease,” you pouted, legs fumbling for purchase along his body, trying to pull him closer to you.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he hummed, but his fingers still curled into the band of your baby-blue panties and dragged them down in one desperate go, “but I do wanna taste you….”

Jonathan’s veiny hands pried your quivering thighs apart, murmuring an offhand already stole y’panties, don’t get all shy on me now when you whimpered flusteredly, before he descended on your dripping lips, licking a flat-tongued stripe up to your clit. 

You gasped at the sudden action, but it quickly morphed into a choked moan when he pressed himself further and parted your lips, nose to your pelvic bone; he made quick work of you, artfully curling his long tongue into your hole and slurping your slick. 

“So sweet,” he praised, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs clench around his head. He hummed in amusement at your reaction, lapping you up quicker; he kitten-licked and slobbered, feeding on your sticky cunt, tongue darting in every direction, feeling your walls and prying deeper into your hot hole, which ached for the cock straining against the mattress now. The bottom half of Jonathan’s face was now positively soaked, glistening with his own drool and your needy wetness, all of it mixing dirtily and sliding down the length of his neck. 

“Jon!” you mewled, hands tearing off his trapper hat and flinging it elsewhere before curling your hands into his mousy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy, desperate to come. You were riding his face now — or, attempting to, more accurately bucking up into him — adoring his unceasing ministrations. He was basically fucking you with his tongue, overstimulating your clit with teasing licks then pulling away, feeling along the ridges of your walls.

“Pick m’hat up later, love,” he tutted, pulling away slightly to see where you’d haphazardly thrown it, and your desperate whine neared a sob. He breathed in sharply, taking in how quickly he’d undone you: in a matter of minutes, your expression had grown wanton, eyes blown out, drooling, hair askew, bra riding up your tits and revealing your sweet, puffy nipples. 

Jonathan quickly forgot about the state of his beloved hat, and went back down on you, mouth devouring in full force once again. You rolled your hips forward, and when he pulled his tongue out of your wet hole to suckle softly on your fleshy nub, your eyes rolled back into your head and your legs shook around his face, toes curling tightly. A choked moan left you alongside the sudden climax, sounding a hundred percent pornographic and all for him. 

You panted, silent and unmoving for a moment, and Jonathan began moving to get up and let you take a breather before continuing, absolutely terrified to push you too far or do anything you didn’t want to do— he was the spontaneous one, and you were the responsible one, but that didn’t mean he ever wanted to force anything upon you. His simultaneous decisions were made mostly in part with your interests in mind; he made the decisions you were too nervous and over-thinking to choose quicker. 

However, you took a long breath, then trailed your hand over the painfully noticeable bulge within his soft boxers. “Wan’… make you feel good,” you murmured, flattening your hand against his erection. 

Jonathan inhaled sharply, pitifully affected by the minor touch but holding back with an incredible amount of self restraint. “I can wait,” he offered sweetly, one of his hands coming up to your flattened hand’s forearm to rub the skin. 

You shook your head foggily, cupping him through the fabric, slowly adding friction by sliding your hand up and down. 

“S-shit,” he bit his lip, “you want this now, baby?”

You nodded vehemently with a whimper, and to make more of a point, you reached behind and unclasped your bra, tossing it elsewhere on his dirty dorm floor, before beginning to slip off his underwear. 

The hand on your arm stopped you, though, in favor of doing it himself and pressing his weight further onto you, your chests flush with one another. You were only able to take in thin breaths, making your head spin, but it also amplified the  arousal blooming in your cunt when Jonathan slotted himself at your soaking entrance, collecting his saliva and your slick on his tip. 

Before he pushed in, however, his head dipped into the hollow of your neck, plush lips brushing past the shell of your ear. “Is this okay?” he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. 

“Please,” you whined, hands pushing flat on his back to bring him closer to you.

With that, Jonathan slowly buried his length within your cunt, making your breath hitch. “I love you,” he groaned, entering you inch by inch, relishing how your warmth swallowed him whole. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your hole was stuffed beyond belief, but Jonathan was gentle with you, caressing your waist with the rough pads of his fingers and massaging you, trying to ease his entrance into something painless. Obviously, with that length and thickness it couldn’t be painless at all, but his attempts helped your mind drift off elsewhere and take some of the attention off the stinging stretch. 

After a long moment of ragged breathing, Jonathan cooing words of praise into your neck as he kissed you without moving, you dug your fingers into the skin of his back: “More,” you choked out, the fullness in your cunt now feeling delicious rather than cringeworthy. 

He smirked against your skin, “Looks like you’re t’eager one now.”

“Oh, get on with it,” you rasped and he let out a low chuckle, sliding out of your hole before thrusting back in. That first movement already made your hips jerk up into him, back arching. It was like all the warmth in your body had collected in your cunt, leaving you freezing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but still with a needy, burning fire in your insides. 

Jonathan’s pace was affectionate and rhythmic: you could feel the tenderness in his each and every gentle roll of the hips. It made you feel like the sun, how attentive he was, but he was also so fucking slow. If anything, that had your walls clenching onto him harder than if he hammered into you— that slow build-up of friction was dizzying. You squirmed, cunt clenching and contracting around his smooth thrusts— you wanted to take him within you completely, cause more friction for you were going stir-crazy with this lazy speed. 

“F-fuck! Faster, please,” you cried out, unable to take his sensual movements any longer. Your legs were twitching with his patient movements, and you could’ve sworn you saw a cheeky grin on his lips. The bastard— even in sex was he teasing you, wanting to torture you until you gave in to the pleasure and begged him to ruin you.  

Sure, this was your first time together, and was going extremely pleasantly and sweetly, but you were actually pretty fond of the idea of letting him pound into you like there was no tomorrow… 

At the lewd thought, your walls pulsed around his cock, making him buck up unintentionally, hitting that sweet spot within you. He grunted at the feeling of your tightened cunt, while you cried out his name, pleasure running like a current through your body. Your face was on fire, reminiscent of a raging fever, and your insides were coiling— god, how did his cock just feel so perfect within you?

“Oh,” he grinned in a pant, “found y’spot, didn’t I?”

Jonathan didn’t give you a chance to speak before he pulled out so far his tip was the only thing in your hole, before slamming back in and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Props to him-- he hit your g-spot with utmost accuracy, and you let out a long, stuttered mewl, scratching at his freckled back, legs twitching. Your wail was almost catatonic, loud and cock-drunk, dripping unabashed, filthy pleasure. 

“Makin’ such sweet noises f’me,” he praised huskily, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, “fuck, ‘ve gotta hear that again.”

He must’ve noticed your neediness earlier, when he was slow and languid, for the new speed he set was double- no, triple that: his hips were snapping against yours, balls smacking filthily against your lips, left hand pinning your hips down and letting him sink into you faster. Shocks of pleasure tore through you at the sudden increase in speed- he’d inured you so well to the torturously slow pace from earlier that this new frenzied one felt like getting hit by a bullet train. You were overstimulated and needing more of him all at once, practically vibrating with need under his touch. 

“I’ve- hnngh- wanted this…” you gasped between moans, “f-for so long…”

“Wanted m’cock?” Jonathan questioned in a hiss, feeling with his every inch how your walls absolutely soaked him. His tone was, obviously, sarcastic, but it still made you feel incredibly lewd. 

You shook your head numbly, “Wanted you… I love you, Jon!”

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he purred, fucking you faster and making you writhe beneath him, “love you s’much.”

Jonathan targeted the spongy, swollen spot deep within your cunt, suddenly filled with a renewed vigor and motivation to make you come as quickly as possible, and he pounded into that one, specific spot, watching how you twitched and squirmed, heavy moans exiting you. He was relentless, hands reaching to hook under your knees and spread you wider. 

At the new angle, his cock penetrated you even deeper, fuller, which you thought wasn’t possible with how goddamn full you already felt, but when his thick cockhead brushed up against your cervix you thought you were going to burst. Then, one of his hands came up to your tits to knead the flesh, and you squeaked when he tweaked your soft nipples. He was pawing at your sweet tits, fondling you in a needy, boyish way, like yours were the first pair of boobs he’d ever felt. 

“M’close!” you gasped, mind going fuzzy with pure ecstacy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, cold  sweat running down your spine, a terribly stark in contrast feeling to the warmth buzzing under your skin. 

“C-can’t last much longer either,” he choked, still pumping in and out of your sticky hole and savoring the feeling of your tight warmness on his long length. He looked absolutely exquisite above you, and you lost yourself in the ethereal picture. Maybe you were in love, or maybe he really was just an empyrean beauty; you took in the sight of his focussed iceberg blue eyes, the cute flush spreading along his pale cheeks and bare chest, how he bit his pink lips to muffle his needy grunts and moans. 

Then, you mewled and convulsed around him, your walls spasming and contracting as you came undone, reaching the precipice of your pleasure. That made him fall off the edge— you had tensed all over- all over, and Jonathan couldn’t help how his hips stuttered, knees buckled, cock twitched; he only gave one last, powerful thrust into you before spilling himself inside of you. He painted your soft walls white, and you felt that familiar heat spreading within you; you welcomed it completely, and wanted such warmth to be there forever. 

You milked him for every last drop, cunt like a vice grip, and Jonathan gave you another wet kiss, this time on your lips, and your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to kiss him back. Your brows knitted at the sour taste of yourself on his lips, but it just made everything feel so real— Jonathan and you had “made love”. It was a phrase you always wrinkled your nose at, feeling uncomfortable and juvenile at the intimacy it entailed, but now you understood it completely. 

“I love you,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, unable to say anything else that conveyed what you felt for him. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure anything could accurately do so— you felt infinitely about him, your love touching all edges of your mind, heart and soul, filling you completely. You supposed you felt about Jonathan how the sun felt about the moon— without one, there could not be the other. 

“I love you-- too,” he responded, pausing in the middle at the aftershocks of your orgasm, which had caused you to tighten around his softening, sensitive cock for a second. 

You peered deep into his baby-blue eyes, watching the utter love that coloured them; it was like submerging yourself in a great blue ocean, except you didn’t want to come out, because you knew you wouldn’t drown in those eyes. No, you knew Jonathan would always be there to pull you out. 

Speaking of pulling out… Jonathan slipped himself out of you softly, careful not to agitate that first stretch any more than necessary, before collapsing back into your arms. The two of you tangled yourselves in a messy flurry of limbs on his cushy mattress, sweaty and breathy, something that should’ve been terribly uncomfortable but just wasn’t— you swore you could fall asleep anywhere, no matter your own state or the circumstance, as long as you were with him. 

Blearily, both your eyes began to droop, until you gave into the familiar presence of deep, dark sleep. It was a dreamless sleep for you, but you had an ever present comfort at his weight on yours, something you could feel even in unconsciousness. 

Hours later, in a brisk, shuddering early-morning that you felt all over due to Jonathan’s unruly habit of opening his window at the peak of the day’s hottest weather and forgetting to close it before cold nightfall fell, you awoke to Jonathan watching you carefully, so close you could feel his warm exhales of breath on your cheek. 

There was no goodmorning or anything like that, just pure, uninhibited being, reveling in the space you two occupied together. Like you two were the only things left in the world. 

When Jonathan noticed you woke up, he shifted, presumably to extract himself from your grip. You stopped him, though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer to you.

“What did it feel like?” you asked instead, for the last time. You brushed your fingers over his scar, and, knowing exactly what you were asking, this time Jonathan doesn’t flinch away. This time, he leans into your touch: it doesn’t burn, not anymore, and he wants your tenderness to swallow him whole. 

You didn’t mean what it actually felt like, of course. You meant, what were you thinking? What have you done, and what will you do to yourself? You meant, I love you.

“It felt like,” falling; not everything feels like something else; I raised my arms and the air took me and that was it-- “it felt like… giving in. Letting my desperation find its purpose. It felt like I’d reached a point of peace… gained clarity after a long stretching, wounded moment came to an end. It felt like becoming something only meant to be talked about in past tense.”

You don’t say anything to that; you know he doesn’t want you to. There’s no need for you to hush or plead or make better, you just need to listen, and love him. He knows you accept him for everything he is, all his flaws and his strengths; he knows your love is all accepting- it veers on saintly. 

At your silence, he melts into your arms and you can finally relax; there is an admission in the action, a release, an acknowledgement -- is suffering in silence not also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found? -- you have found him, at last, and you will never, ever let go.

You take it too far, just once. Only once. And you let him go just once, only once; never again. 

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan breech #on the edge #jonathan breech x reader #jonathan breech x reader smut #jonathan breech smut #cillian murphy x reader smut

[xxsabitoxx]

Blizzard {Giyu x Reader Imagine}

Warnings: Unprotected sex, outdoor sex, big dicks lmao, creampies, praise kink, awkward fumbling, rough sex, breeding kink, delirious dirty talk, possessive Giyu

A/N: this isn't the surprise fic!!! This was supposed to be a short imagine but I got a bit carried away and it's turned into a decent sized fic lol. ENJOY!!

Word Count: 4K

You were sitting side by side in a dark cave, shivering slightly as you tried to process your current situation. A joint effort mission up in the mountains wasn’t exactly unusual, considering many slayers had unfortunately disappeared over the course of a few months after being sent up here. “Do you think there is enough material in here to make a fire? I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here any time soon… it’s too dangerous to send our crows out.” You squinted at the water pillar, his eyes focused on the cave wall opposite of the two of you. “It’s likely just rocks, not enough to start a fire unless a bird or some animal left something up here.” 

You sighed, pushing yourself upwards to begin rummaging around. Nevermind needed fire to see, you needed fire for warmth. There was no way the two of you would survive up here without some sort of warmth. “We’ll have to look around then…” Giyu watched you move deeper into the cave, getting up himself to accompany you. Getting sent on a joint mission wasn’t odd, but being paired together certainly was. Typically Shinobu would be the one to accompany Giyu on these missions, however she was busy with a wave of patients at the butterfly estate. Though, Giyu couldn’t really complain. If there was any other hashira he wouldn’t mind getting stuck in a cave with, it would be you. You were probably the least judgemental and the only one who he didn’t feel awkward trying to converse with beside Shinobu and Rengoku. 

“The storm will probably go through the night, it doesn’t seem to be slowing any time soon.” The only way you were able to see each other was due to the moonlight bouncing off of the falling snow by the entrance of the cave. “Then we really need to hope some animal abandoned a nest up here… if not we’re going to freeze to death.” You really didn’t want to die in a cave. You both moved forward, rummaging around the cave for what felt like an hour until finally… “Here! Something must have been living up here.” Brush, sticks and rocks were piled into some odd shaped nest. Not that it really mattered, all that mattered was that you had enough material to make a fire for at least a few hours. “Great…” his voice was a bit strained, the cold was already getting to him. In your own excitement, you had briefly forgotten how cold you were as well. 

“We should probably make it a little further up, there were some rocks that would block the fire from getting hit by the draft.” Giyu brought his hands to his mouth, blowing warm air on them as you gathered enough sticks and brush to start a small fire. You carried the materials back, sitting down as Giyu got to work creating the pile and creating a flame. You were starting to lose feeling in your fingers as a small spark erupted before turning into a burning flame. You both let out sighs of relief, pushing past any awkwardness as Giyu moved to settle beside you. In situations like this, body heat would be your best friend. “Do you really think it will last through the night?” the chill was subsiding just a bit, you were no longer shivering uncontrollably. “It’s likely. We’ll have to be ready to leave the moment it looks like it’s letting up.” 

“But what if we start moving and it begins again? Then we’ll be stuck in the snow with no shelter.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking over your words. “We’ll have to hope it clears all together.” He glanced at your crows, both huddled together by the flame and covered with some of the brush for extra warmth. “I guess so…” you sighed, watching your breath fan out around you. “We should try and get some rest… or take turns so we can make sure the fire doesn’t go out.” You could already feel your eyes getting heavy, leaning into Giyu’s shoulder subconsciously. “It’s probably for the best, you sleep first and I’ll watch the fire.” You hummed out a response, eyes closing as your body relaxed. His warmth on your side and the fire before you was enough to lull you into shallow comfort. 

Your sleep didn’t last long, maybe forty minutes had passed before you woke up shivering. The fire was still going strong, but the sheer cold of your environment was outweighing the warmth before you. “It doesn’t seem to be letting up…” Giyu spoke softly, watching as you pushed yourself upwards. The sudden loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed, the warmth fled just as quickly as you pulled away. “Shit…” you cringed, moving  yourself back over to press against his side again. This situation left no room for awkward feelings when it came to personal space. Giyu was shivering worse than you, haori pulled tightly around him, knees pulled to his chest. You needed a way to keep warm, the fire wasn’t cutting it and neither was huddling together like this. 

“I have an idea…” you spoke softly, eyes shutting as you remembered a particular survival tip. You weren’t sure if it would work, hell someone could have been lying to you for shits and giggles. But you were  desperate enough  to give it a shot. “Yeah? What is it…” you swallowed, focusing on the fire as you mulled over your options. “I’m… not sure if it will work but it’s something I was told a few years back…” you started, pulling your legs to your chest to mimic his position. “The best way to keep warm in situations like this… is skin to skin contact.” Your words hung in the air for a few beats of silence before Giyu mustered up a response. “So you’re saying we need to strip?” If you weren’t so cold, you may have laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I-I mean we don’t need to be fully…uhm…nude but like… our tops…need to come off.” 

You glanced at him, jumping just a bit when you realized he was already looking right at you. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before you finally started moving. “We’ll freeze to death if we just keep staring at each other.” You were shouldering off your haori, your own embarrassment outweighing the cold as you fumbled with the buttons of your top. Beside you, Giyu was watching intently as he too pulled his haori off. “S-stop watching.” You ground out as your top fell to the floor beside you. Pushing up on your knees, you watched as Giyu’s skin was revealed to you. Muscles wrapped his body, scars littering his torso. You wished you were seeing him like this under better circumstances. That thought  made you look away, this was no time to think such lewd things. But the way he was looking at you… 

A moment later, you were both shivering and topless. You stood before him, watching as he shifted his legs open. “The easiest way to d-do this is for you to sit on my lap. We’ll uh… face each other and hug? If that makes sense.” He concluded, his cheeks red from embarrassment and the cold air blowing in from the storm. You nodded, eyes focusing on a spot just above his shoulder so you didn’t have to look directly at him. You clambered awkwardly into his lap, closing the distance by pressing your chest to his and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly in hopes of slowing your racing pulse. Giyu’s arms snaked around you, grabbing his haori and throwing it over you. You tried to focus on your breathing, nerves getting the best of you regardless. 

It was deafeningly silent, neither of you speaking as you were waiting for some sort of relief. Though, you really couldn’t tell if it was helping at all, instead of warmth you were more focused on the rise and fall of his chest pressed to yours. You were all too aware of the muscles pressing into your softer skin, the pressure of his grip on your body. Then, finally, if you could push all of that aside, you’d be able to focus on if this was even helping at all. If anything, you were hoping Giyu would be the first to speak up. Unknown to you, he was going through the same mental battle. Your body was soft, your chest squished against his. The weight of your arms around his neck paired with the pressure of your lap on his was enough to let his mind wander to dirtier places. If he wasn’t so damn cold, he would let himself think this was for more than warmth. 

“I-is it helping?” your voice is hushed, you couldn’t speak above a whisper if you tried. “I can’t t-tell yet.” Giyu was trying to force his body to relax, his own nerves were beginning to put a death grip on your body. Not that you minded, you were fairly certain your arms were squeezing his neck. How he could breathe, you weren’t quite sure. You remained silent for a few more minutes, the body heat trick was beginning to work but both of you were too caught up in your nerves to even realize. “Y-you know…” Giyu started softly, a particular survival trick coming to his mind now. It was from Uzui, so naturally he didn’t trust there was any science behind it… “Yeah?” you spoke softly, muscles just barely beginning to relax into his embrace. 

“Uzui uh… he told me about another way to create heat during situations like this…” he swallows, debating on if it was even worth saying. Then again, you squirmed a bit in his lap and all logical reasoning went out of his mind. “Oh…Uzui gave you survival tips?” you couldn’t even begin to imagine where he was taking this. “I think he was fucking with me… but he said that a good way to create body heat is uh…friction.” He squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed that he couldn’t just spit it out. “Friction… as in…” You figured he meant sex. “As in… intercourse.” You couldn’t help but laugh, “Intercourse? What are you, eighty?” you forgot about your nerves momentarily, pushing off of him a bit to meet his gaze. “You’re suggesting we have sex?” The red on his cheeks seemed to spread, down his neck and up to his ears. “Y-yeah.” 

“I-if it’ll keep us from freezing to death…” you begin, eyes locking with his. “It’s purely for the sake of survival…” he added to your reasoning. “It’s not like anyone will know…” you continued, searching his eyes for validation. “It’s to save our lives… completely justified.” he concluded, hands gripping your waist just a bit harder. “T-then let’s do it…” you swallowed, throat a bit dry as heat began to pool in your gut. You were already forgetting about the cold, clit throbbing as you felt Giyu twitch to life beneath you. “Yeah…let’s do it…” you don’t quite recall who moved in first. All you knew is that his lips were pressed to yours, your hands tangling in his long, black hair and tugging at the surprisingly soft strands. All the while, Giyu’s slender fingers were nimbly undoing your bottoms, trying to shove his hand down as far as it would allow. 

You mewled against his parted lips, cool fingers meeting the scorching heat of your cunt. He made a noise that sounded something like a strangled whimper. “N-no time to mess around… I need you in me… let me warm up.” Your breaths mingled, heat growing steadily between the two of you as the blizzard raged on outside. “I-I’ll hurt you if I go right in.” he murmured, lifting his hips for you as you pulled the belt and his bottoms apart. “I can take it…” or so you thought. The last thing you expected was… “Christ, Giyu. What the fuck…” Your heart thumped wildly at the sheer size of him. “I told you…” if you tore your eyes away from his cock, you would have seen the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You’re massive…” you were saying it more out of shock than a complement but he twitched regardless, keen and eager to accept your praises. 

“Which is exactly why I’m not rushing this…” He’s slipping two fingers between your slit, collecting your warm arousal on his finger tips before dipping them inside your awaiting entrance. Giyu watches your face, studying the way your pupils seem to dilate, watching as a breathy whine slips past swollen lips. His saliva is glistening on them, drawing him in to kiss you again. He wants to see you covered, not only in his bites and marks, but in his cum. He swallows against your lips, fingers stretching you open awkwardly as you try to get your pants off without interrupting him. It’s not going to happen, pants be damned for the time being, all you can focus on is his fingers brushing along the spongy parts of your walls. “G-giyu…” your hips are driving down on them, begging him to add a third finger in. 

He stills you with his other hand, introducing a third finger slowly before moving his hand from your hip to tangle back in your hair. He holds you in place, tongue slipping past parted lips and sliding around your own. He could sob as your smaller hands wrap around his length, offering him warmth and relief as you pump him slowly. Your fingers toy with the tip, collecting his pre before dragging them delicately down his shaft. You take a mental note of the veins that feel oh so prominent against your fingers. It’s not nearly wet enough, but Giyu isn’t willing to let you tear your mouth from his. Your squelching as his fingers fuck you open, any sort of discomfort melting away to wet pleasure as you suck him in. You’re aching for his cock, clit throbbing in neglect as you try to pull your head away from his iron grip. 

“T-this is more than enough… Please, I can take it. I’m a big girl you know, Giyu. Your cock isn’t going to break me.” You’re fighting to keep your gaze on his, yelping as he retracts his fingers. “If you’re so eager, take your pants off and put it in yourself.” His tone is as icy as the weather outside and you find yourself jumping up to follow his commands. Giyu pushes his pants down further in order to not ruin them, watching as your bare cunt is exposed to him in the golden, shadowy light of the cave. You’re on your knees again a moment later, grabbing his base and angling your hips in a certain way so the dull head of his cock is pressing to your entrance. “Do me a favor…” it’s your turn to bark out a command, he’s more than willing to listen. “Rub my clit.” You would laugh at yourself if you weren’t so serious. You knew the stretch would still be a bit uncomfortable, you needed something to pull your mind from it. 

Giyu didn’t question it, hand coming down to rub circles on your pulsating cunt. You sunk down slowly, biting your inner cheek as he speared you open. You didn’t slow down, dropping your hips lower until half of him was sheathed inside of you. You were torn between pain and pleasure, thighs aching already from the effort of keeping yourself up. Giyu’s gaze was shifting between your face and where he was disappearing inside of you. You held your breath, sinking lower until there was barely any space between you. One more go and he would be fully inside of you, yet you were mentally wondering how you’d go about doing that. You swore he was pressing into your cervix, that there was no way you could fit the rest of him. “Fucking Christ, Giyu…” you scolded him, as if he had any control over the size of his dick.  

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to handle it… there is no need to rush-oh.”  you sat down the rest of the way, fighting the urge to immediately pull back up from the pressure. “I… can take it.” you grounded out, eyes shutting against your will as your walls spasmed around him. “Yeah…seems like it.” Giyu grounded out, fingers still diligently rubbing your clit as you tried to adjust. “I… got it in…  did what you asked…” you huffed, raising your hips slightly to slowly drop down again. “Fuck me… please Giyu.” you were giving up, skin nearly burning as you were waiting for his response. Instead of saying anything, he flipped you. Just like the kiss, everything seemed to happen in a blur for you. You barely registered the ice cold stone pressing to your bare back as Giyu hovered over you, hair falling down around you. You must have tugged the tie of his ponytail at some point.

“I’ll fuck you, just like you want, but you have to promise me something first.” you were looking up at him with wide eyes, hands by your head because you didn’t know what to do with them. “Anything… anything you want to hear, I’ll say it.” You were losing your sanity in this situation. Whether it be from the cold or his dick, regardless you were willing to do anything he asked of you in that moment. “Promise me you can handle this.” His voice is husky, eyes lidded as his hips rock gingerly into you, too eager to stay still. “Promise… I can take it.” That was all he needed to hear, hips drawing back half way just to snap back into you. The moan you let out was nothing short of animalistic, heat blossoming over your face as the noise seemed to echo. It only fueled him, hips repeating the motion over and over, addicted to the way your breasts and thighs jiggled with the force of his movements. 

“C’mon, you’re doing so good for me.” He’s shifting his weight onto one hand, reaching down between your bodies to toy with your clit again. “I can feel it already, you’re going to cum all over my cock, aren’t you? Make a fucking mess of me, yeah?” you’re babbling nonsense, agreeing with every word he says as his cock stretches you just right. “It’s a damn shame, nobody is going to know we did this… our own little secret. Nobody is going to know how good I fucked you.” your eyes are watering, not expecting this side of Giyu. “Then again…” he buries deep, forcing you to look at him as he lowers his head. “We could do this any time you want, I’d gladly be at your mercy.” You nearly choke on air, unable to get enough in your lungs as he looks at you. “You’d like that, wouldn't you?” He’s moving again, watching tears well and slip down your temples. 

“You’d love for me to fuck you where everyone can hear. Let everyone know that lame ass water hashira is dicking you down, real fucking good.” You’re nearly drooling, fucked stupid, drunk off his cock and the terribly degrading words. “Tell me, tell me how good I make you feel… tell me how you’ll never be satisfied by another cock.” He’s lost in his own pleasure, the warmth of your pussy enveloping him, forcing him to utter words he shouldn’t say out loud. “Never… I’ll never be satisfied… fuck… by an–ah..another.” you’re babbling again, this time it’s just a bit more intelligible as he pounds into you. You’re coming before you can prepare yourself, body arching upwards as your eyes squeeze shut. You’re tense all over, wailing loudly as Giyu fucks you through your high, no intentions of stopping. “Good girl… fuck that’s my good girl…” 

He’s watching your arousal cling to his shaft with every thrust, collecting at the base in a sticky ring. He could cum just from the sight of it. “Your good girl…” you whine, hands clinging to his biceps as he continues to rut into you. You can’t even feel the sting on your back, the ache of your thighs as your legs are wrapped around his hips, nor can you feel the pain of overstimulation as it’s already returning as arousal. “Come in me… please Giyu… need you to keep me warm even after you leave me.” you can’t think straight, mind fuzzy and vision blurry as you clench around him. You want to feel his warmth impossibly deep, even deeper than he is now. “W-what if I knock you up? Then what?” He chokes, your pleas are too appealing to deny. “Then everyone will really know how good you fucked me…fuck… just think about it, yeah?” 

Your head is falling back, chest heaving as your pleasure grows to be overwhelming. “Think about you? Stomach swollen because you’re carrying my baby? That’s what you want, isn’t it? Everyone to know I fucked you so good you let me cum in you, breed your greedy, fertile cunt?” You’re squealing, not used to Giyu being so bold. “Yes! Fuck how many times do I have to say it?! Cum in me… please…” it left your lips in a broken prayer, urging him to just give in even though the logical part of his mind was screaming at him to pull out. He doesn’t, hips forcing into you with one last, hard thrust. Spilling the contents of his release deep inside of you, ears ringing from the sheer force of it. You’re gasping for air with him, shivering despite the warmth you feel as his release fills you. Your heart is pounding, blinking stars from your eyes as your body relaxes for the first time since getting stuck in this cave. Giyu, on the other hand, is tense, forcing air back into his lungs before he can look at you again. 

“U-uzui’s advice worked.” you choke out, giggling as Giyu nearly collapses on you. “It… it did.” his head is buried in your neck, inhaling the scent of you, skin slightly sweaty and warm. There was not one ounce of cold you could be bothered by, feeling warm from the inside out, especially with Giyu still inside of you. “This storm better end soon…” you could only begin to imagine the cold air biting your damp skin as soon as your body regulated again. “Sick of me already?” His voice is muffled against your neck, forcing a smile on your lips. “No… definitely not…maybe the storm could do us a favor and last at least a few more rounds…” you're running your fingers through his hair, tensing a bit as he raises again to pull his softened dick out of you slowly. “No… not yet.” you stop him in his tracks, hips gingerly pressing the little he took out, back in. 

“I don’t want to lose any of that…just yet.” coming out of your lust filled dazed, you are slightly worried about the possible consequences of your hormone induced actions. Giyu only hums, mind wandering about the possibilities of what you two had just done. That was something to worry about when you weren’t technically in a life or death situation. His  eyes trailed over your unmarked neck, mind wandering to the things he wanted to do to it. Slowly he’s moving back up to your swollen lips, the urge to bite them clawing at the back of his mind. He doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten to you again until you’re laughing softly. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit… for warmth….” you wink at him, watching that blush blossom across his pale cheeks yet again. Giyu’s head is falling forward, huffing out a small “...for warmth.” as he kisses you again.

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer smut #hashira #demon slayer fluff #xxsabitoxx’s work! #giyuu x you #tomioka giyu #tomioka giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba giyuu #giyuu x y/n #giyuu tomioka imagine #kimetsu giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #kny smut #kny imagines

[diejager]

hi i love your work so much omg

…what do you think of the scenario of monster!141 x (platonic, if you want, it’s probably for the better) reader that’s made up of thousands of worms/spiders/or whatever creatures. reader is always covered up in clothes that cover up the entire ‘skin’ and they speak extremely weirdly/like everything’s speaking all at once and the voice is just sounding from the mouth but also in the torso? and legs? . the thing is that reader is shy or something and doesn’t want to admit that they’re just a hive mind of creatures, but it’s just kinda obvious not really (well obvious to monster 141). 141 doesn’t really want to comment on it because they’re just nice like that and find ways to help Reader get through some situations lmao (help i’m sleep deprived and i made this thought in 3 AM ish).

i give you a piece of 🧀

Many

Pairing: Platonic Monster 141 + König & Horangi x monster!reader

Cw: spiders, blood, military inaccuracies, canon-typical violence, cannibalism? Eating human, hive mind monster, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.9k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with y’a, I went on a spree and completely forgot what you first asked for but uh… I used some of your ideas and I hope it’s apparent enough?

For someone as decorated as you were, you were awfully timid, shying from human and hybrid interaction like a plague. Perhaps it was unintentional, the stiffness in your shoulders or the constant coverage, but to the world around you, you were nothing but an awkward person whose social cues were lost to time after more than a decade in the force. Starting your days covered head to toe, black over more black, or khaki and brown over more khaki and brown depending on the situation of your stay and deployment. 

Despite your social anxiety, your voice stayed strong and unwavering in the field, a cold, monotone voice that would coordinate the team if needed —you were a prolific intelligence specialist, that found your calling in intelligence gathering from the deepest and darkest pits, and an infiltration specialist that was sought out for your proficiency and successful operations worldwide, especially the undercover Ops done in secrecy. You’ve led a few clandestine Ops with Laswell for 141, the Station Chief letting you lead and direct them, trusting your insights and they always resulted in successful missions, coming back bruised and battered but alive and securing the cargo (or whatever they were sent there for). 

That meant that they knew you, your voice, your confident tone when you directed them, your unwavering decisions and your helpful guidance, but they hadn’t seen you until a few months ago. You were officially assigned to Task Force 141 as their Intelligence and Infiltration specialist, working on and off. This would be the first time you actively moved to the front, standing beside them during infiltrations, slipping into the enemy base with efficiency and silence. You moved as if you were a part of the shadows, melting into the darkness and disappearing from any camera and scans, your body invincible to infrared cameras or heat sensors. 

You moved with fluid motions, your body incredibly - scarily - flexible and seemingly aware of everything around you. To humans, you were probably the most skillful and abnormal human, born with talents that far rivalled those of hybrids, and a saviour to some for being able to keep them alive even through the hardest moments of their capture; but to monsters, to hybrids, you were special, a different type of creature that held a different category in the classes, one that humans knew little outside of the government and military. 

Whereas humans saw you as a stiff and socially awkward human that covered their whole body, TF141 knew better, they could sense it a mile away, the difference in you, the odd aura and smell you projected. Soap and König had mentioned it in the past, in the bustling Mess hall where they shared a table, Soap had noted that you smelled off, of something dead yet alive and König only brought the oddness of you holding thousands of different scents, musks that didn’t originate from one place, but from around the world. 

Gaz and Horangi gave off-handed comments about sudden movement under your clothes, a slight - near invisible - ripple under your neck or on your arm, their eyes zoning to the smallest of movements. Gaz brought it up first, his voice hesitant and confused, frowning down at his plate when he mentioned it to the others, only to feel reassured that he wasn’t imagining it, the small ripple that no one else perceived, when Horangi shared his own observations. Horangi had seen small black spots moving over your shirt and under the tight mask hiding your face, tiny-legged creatures climbing over you and vanishing under your clothes as if they were never there. 

Rudy was the best at understanding people, sympathising with both monsters and humans, but you just seemed lost, a shy creature that always hid from others when you weren’t needed. He and Alejandro remembered when they spoke to you after an Op, catching up to you before you fled to hide in your room, your tone was soft and shy, but it seemed to come from everywhere, never staying in one place as if there wasn’t a source to your voice. One moment your voice would come from your face, and then the next, it’d be down your abdomen, every word you spoke came out of a different area, but your chin never moved, face still and unmoving. 

They brought it up to Ghost, who’d sit with them at their table, pushed against the wall for privacy around human soldiers, since he - leaving out Price - knew you best, having worked with you a few times in the past where they needed your expertise in infiltration and hostage securing. They had hoped that Ghost could give them a few insights on you, whether it be about your kind or your uniqueness, they wanted something - anything - to quell their growing curiosity. Not only was Ghost one of their only sources of information, but he was also a paranoid one, always demanding an operator's file before and after they joined, his mind going through loops to calculate the danger of the new addition. Ghost was a guarded and walled-up character, ensuring that they wouldn’t betray him in the long run.

Unfortunately, Ghost knew as little as they did, Price was stricter with your information, keeping it under a hard lock and key. Only he and Laswell held information about you, your little quirks and details were a secret to anyone who wasn’t in the higher-ranked stations or the commanding rank and station chief. They had nothing to go on but theories, little hypothesis until Price or Laswell - whichever caved first to their incessant pleading - disclosed your personal file. So they did what they could with their observations, combining up with different monsters they’ve crossed paths with. You could’ve been one of those crossbred hybrids where they coupled for specific perks, or an experiment, seeing that you had an aversion to physical touch and human interactions. The least possible one, by far, was that you were an Eldritch being, a creature of horror and madness. 

“Classified for now, sergeant,” was all Price had told Soap when he cracked, his puppy-like excitement getting the best of him. “You’ll have to ask them, yeah?”

That left them with little to no choice but to watch you more closely, to observe their surroundings for any clues and to note anything bizarre since they couldn’t necessarily outright ask you. You fled seconds after anyone tried to start a conversation, head down and feet moving too swiftly to not seem like you were avoiding them or any long discussion as if you knew what they were planning. You seemed to have eyes at the back of your head, reacting instantly when one of them would follow you wherever you went, slinking from one shadow to the other, trying their best to hide from your sight and sense, but you were an expert in your own right, knowing and aware of undercover tactics when one was used against you.

Fortunately for them, other clues helped, subtle signs that most people wouldn’t even catch. The first one was small, jerky spiders that weren’t local to the UK or any continent, they weren’t like any arachnid they’d ever found, that was the first thing they noticed when they came across one, but the true challenge was to catch one of those pesky things. They were quick and small, evading them as if they had a mind of their own, their bites painful if one of them tried to grab it with a hand, the tiny fangs piercing through the thick material of their gloves, but once Soap got his paws on one, he made sure to keep it in the glass container. The spider was small, its exoskeleton so dark that it seemed to swallow any light rather than reflect it, a shade of black so black that it didn’t let any colours out. It didn’t look hairy, the shell so smooth and spotless that it seemed like two circles if they ignored the scrawny legs. 

Those spiders were almost everywhere, yet they went unnoticed by the people walking around the base and them until now. Other than the spiders, your aversion to physical contact and socialising, and favouring your privacy much more than anyone on the TF. You didn’t eat with them —you never seemed to eat at all. Your voice moved so often that the possibility of you having many mouths came to mind a lot. Your body was extremely nimble, bending in odd - sometimes painful for others - ways. Over other observations, everything they took notice of you were things that were inhuman, it made you a minority in the military - much like them - and a mystery to your team. 

They went on for months, unbothered that they might have seemed slightly obsessive, a stalker following his obsession. They weren’t worried about others calling them out, humans would chalk it up to monster stuff with a sneer and look the other way when Ghost or König glared at them. That didn’t escape you, Price or even Laswell’s eyes and ears around the world. 

“You boys don’t know when to stop, hmm?” Price wore a frown, brows cocked questioningly. His tone was one of a tired and relenting to their months-long search. “You’re lucky they weren’t mad about this.”

“So you’ll tell us, boss?” Ghost hid his excitement better than the rest, his chest rumbling lowly and eyes narrowed darkly, but not with a dangerous gleam. 

“Better if you see it yourself,” he sighed, crossing his arms, hunching against his chair, lip quirking at a corner. It was a cheeky lopsided smile, teasing them with having to wait longer. “It’s hard to explain in words. It’s quite the sight.”

And a sight it was! Watching you melt to the ground, your body scattering in thousands of small spiders that moved towards the body lying before you. You’d been paired with Ghost and Soap for this Op, leading them down a path you knew didn’t have any hostiles, getting intel back from the many spiders scattered around the area. They were the first to watch you eat, arachnids swallowing up the bodies, devouring them at record speed. You ate flesh and bones, ligaments and tendons melted by your acidic bite that only left clothes behind as an indication that someone died here. They were the lucky ones to see you eat, to bear witness to your monstrosity in the flesh and your moment of weakness where you had to sustain yourself, shedding off the shape of a human body.

It left Soap filled with awe, seeing you break away in thousands of individual bodies and come back together as one, and Ghost’s mind strewed with questions, some answered when you told them that you were self-conscious, a hive mind made up of spiders to form a body. You weren’t hiding away because you were afraid of them or that you hated socialising, you were simply too self-aware of your making, of the natural fear of eight-legged creatures. So you hid, shying away from people, thinking that they’d hate you for being what you were, a colony of undocumented spiders working as one. 

Horangi, Rudy and Alejandro caught you in action on the second covert operation when you were given the signal to lead your small squad into enemy lines. They watched the clothes you wore ripple, little critters bulging out from under your protective gear and rolling down your body in waves, black masses dropping off and separating. You were spread around the place, everyone acting as an extension of your mind and body, and they were —thousands of spiders sharing one mind. You shrank lightly, your body mass lower than it was with your body spanned across the area, working as your eyes and ears from afar like cameras worked for Laswell, except that your reach was farther and more potent. 

It was expected, but not less surprising to the three, watching your body shorten and little spiders crawl all over you. It would’ve made the hardiest monster shudder in fear or repulsion, feeling hundreds of legs moving about over their body, it would’ve made them slightly apprehensive, knowing from Soap and Ghost that your bite could be acidic, melting tough muscle and robust bone. It made more sense as to why you were so nimble and so observant, you had parts of yourself scattered around, working to map out everything and see everything. You were what made you so sought after for your skills in clandestine missions and covert infiltrations, it was scarily inspiring.

Gaz and König were the unlucky ones, being in the wrong place at the wrong time to see you “die”. With how unlucky his streak with helicopters was, it wasn’t a surprise that he was falling from another one, his wing bleeding from a bullet wound, the copper piercing through the meat and grazing the bone. It had him handicapped for the next few missions, staying on base until it healed completely unless he wanted to cause a bigger issue with his third pair of limbs. You were medevaced, watching Gaz grunt and groan, holding his wounded wing against his chest with a face screwed in pain. He’d been in an unfortunate situation, being purposely targeted by the enemy, and the situation couldn’t get any worse. 

The helicopter was shot down, and the flares deployed too late to stop the missile. It was a fiery mess, there was screaming and the loud crack of metal breaking, you could hear Laswell yell out in the coms, her worried and frantic voice trying to reach you and Gaz in the falling blaze. Most harpies feared fire, the flames burning their feathers and scarring the skin, making it impossible to regrow feathers on some rare occurrences. Gaz couldn’t remember much after the fall, waking up in pitch darkness, his skin crawling with shivers and invisible hands. He couldn’t make out left from right, he didn’t know if he was lying face down or on his back, and he wasn’t even sure he was conscious, seeing that all he could see was black. Then he felt sudden movement, a prickly sensation covering his body until light broke through.

He could feel his arms and his legs, he could stretch his wing out when he sat up, he wasn’t burned or hurt more than what he had before the crash, but he couldn’t see you when he looked around. He palmed the ground, feeling around the rough floor for you, your small, black spiders. You were on and around him, slowly climbing off him and flocking to a large mass. Your clothes were gone, burned to ashes in the mess while you shielded him, taking the brunt of the heat and burns. He swallowed down the quake that wracked his body and rushed to you, frantic to see whether or not you were in pain. Rather than forming back into a human, your appearance resembles more of a large mammal on four, clawed legs. Seeing that you were fine - or so he thought - he called back for evac, getting cover with your prone figure guarding him until the other helicopter and support came back.

König’s accident was more vicious than Gaz’s, losing control of his urges, letting himself shift and rampage through the area, ripping apart both enemy and ally. You were another body in his path, his claws tearing through your chest with sharp, bloodied hands. The others panicked, watching you scatter into pieces, falling apart from the seams as if someone had pulled out the only string that held you together. Instead of blood and guts, intestines that should’ve called out in a bloody mess, you broke apart, some fell to the ground, crushed under König’s weight, and others clung to him, swarming to stop him before he caused more chaos. 

It looked like a futile attempt from outside viewpoints, watching the beast stumble blindly, his face covered, your thousand pairs of legs locked to keep his mouth closed from causing more harm to others with his serrated teeth made to gnaw through bone and break flesh and muscle to consume and feed his big appetite. They could only stare at König trash around, limbs slowly being locked together, bounding his arms from flailing and slashing at people and his leg from blindly ambling and rushing towards his next victim. You rippled around König, a mass becoming a full-body restraint containing the hybrid’s grunts and growls, unmoving and unrelenting against him. 

You kept König’s rampage in check, keeping him contained while they moved both you and him to the aircraft and back to base where they could wait out the shift, the burst of rage in the hybrid. Gaz had thrown you a bundle of clothes after König fell asleep, you slipped off and crawled to your clothes, reappearing in a human shape under all your protective layers. Although they knew you could take extensive damage and survive unscathed, they still worried, would your strength still held together with a chaotic mix of human resilience and percht invulnerability.

You seemed to have let yourself go a bit, letting Soap or Gaz drag you around the base, letting Rudy and Alejandro strike up a conversation, letting Ghost or König sit with you in silence, and letting Horangi get the jump on you and follow you soundlessly because he was curious (and answering his questions). You might not eat with them, but you swallowed down your fright and agreed to sit at their table while they ate, digging into their preferred meal and occasionally replying to their friendly banter. You were still nervous about spending so much time in public, the looming fear of being faced with disgust from your allies was still possible, but you - with the supporting pat on the shoulder from Price - worked through your storming thoughts and insecurities. 

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #monster 141 au #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #mw2 alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo rudy parra #rudy x reader #horangi #kim horangi hong jin #horangi x reader #konig #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader

[joonberriess]

h o m i e h o p p e r

p a i r i n g : JK, HSK, NJ x reader

g e n r e : college au.

t a g s : homie hopping (the title duhhh), bang chan makes an appearance as your bf, he’s being cucked, vaginal sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, sex tapes, sexual objectification (on reader), dirty talk, degradation, hook-ups, voyeurism, reader is really pretty (she’s a sweetie pls), poly!relationship undertones, chan refuses to even believe the rumors, sexual innuendos and jokes, the boys are assHOLES, low-key toxic, joon and them are fuckin mean, car sex, chan's POV, surprise for u at the end, chan goes thru it a lot, everyone is bad here LMAO

w o r d c o u n t : 6.3 k

s u m m a r y : the rumors weren’t true… or were they?

When Chan first heard the rumors he was absolutely furious, how could anyone ever talk about someone like that? Never mind that, WHY would anyone talk about his girlfriend point blank period. It pissed him off that anyone he talked to always had to bring you up with the same damn question over and over again.

“Oh you’re dating now? I thought she was fucking Jungkook?”

“I heard Namjoon and her hooked up at the party last night, is that true?”

“No way dude, you’re going out with Seok’s girl? He was telling me the other night how he and Joon took turns.”

Sure he knew you got around a lot but he didn’t care that was your business, the more important thing was you were with him now and he was sure you weren’t capable of cheating. How could you? Not when you were the sweetest thing on this earth, you wouldn’t even harm a fly let alone think about being unfaithful. Chan learned to ignore the comments thrown at him, he knew you better than anyone else.

You seemed to be very popular, often attracting attention left and right because of your nice personality and your pretty face. Chan honestly felt like he had lucked out with you, you liked some things he liked, you shared some hobbies, and you listened to a few genres Chan liked. He was stuck in the honeymoon phase and he never wanted to wake up from it.

Chan however did find it a bit weird how..touchy and friendly his housemates seemed to be you. Yes he did know about the rumors of you and his housemates but he kind of didn’t believe them to be true. Maybe they were exaggerating? His housemates didn’t seem to say anything about the situation so maybe people had it all mixed up.. Right?

He starts observing how you interact with them whenever you come over. His eyes are watchful as you greet Hoseok at the door with a sweet smile on your face and a handful of cookies you baked. Chan stares at the seemingly innocent interaction, only getting up to intervene when he sees something odd.

“Hi Seokie,” you softly smile, “I baked some cookies for everyone, Channie told me you guys have been really stressed out from exams ‘n stuff.”

Hoseok grins, “Well aren’t you a sweetheart? Isn’t Chan so lucky to have someone like you? I mean your cookies aren’t the only sweet thing I like to eat.” He shoots a wink and reaches down to grab one, biting into it with a pleased hum.

You reach up to gently wipe the corner of Hoseok’s lips with your thumb, “Thank you sweetheart.” Hoseok slowly licks his lips.

Chan watches in pure silence, a little put off about the strange show of affection he’s seeing. “Okay Seok, me ‘n y/n are gonna head off now, you remember it’s movie night don’t you baby?” He gently pulls you by your waist to his side, wanting you as far away from Hoseok as possible.

“Oh yes! We’re gonna have a Scream marathon!” You excitedly buzz, “Bye Seokie,” you wave and let Chan guide you up the stairs with a possessive hand laid over your back. Chan glances one last time at Hoseok, finding him staring very intently, specifically your ass which sits so perfectly in your leggings. Hoseok actually fucking winks at him as Chan disappears upstairs.

The second time he realizes things aren’t right is the morning after you stay the night, no one is home except for Namjoon. Chan wakes up to a note on his nightstand telling him you’re downstairs making breakfast. The little hearts you drew make his heart flutter as he sleepily smiles and rolls out of bed.

As he makes his way down and around the corner he can hear those cute little giggles of yours. Reality shatters the moment and snaps him out of his daze when he hears Namjoon’s deep baritone voice.

Namjoon…?

Chan curiously peeks into the kitchen only to find you standing there in his oversized shirt he gave you the night before. If memory served him correctly, you went to bed in his shirt and with ONLY panties underneath.. His eyes widened, shocked to see Namjoon standing directly behind you pressed so closely as he opened the cabinet to reach for something high up on the shelf.

“Careful now shortie, don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.” Namjoon lazily smirks, passing the bowls you had asked him for, “Especially with you bouncing all over the place.” He hums, reaching down to smack your ass as he walks over to the fridge.

You voice your complaints with an angry pout, turning to say something when you see Chan. “Channie! You’re up, I made some pancakes and a fruit bowl.” You cheerfully say, “Sit, sit I’m just about to finish,” you say.

“You good there Channie?” Namjoon draws out with a tiny smirk, leaning up against the fridge with his arms crossed. “You look like you just saw a ghost or something.” His eyes briefly break contact to trail after you when you pass by him.

Chan nods, “I’m good,” he shoots you a tiny smile before looking back at Namjoon blankly, “all good.”

Something is definitely wrong by the third time he realizes there’s more than what meets the eye. It’s what people have to say about Jungkook when the little bubble he’s been cooped up in finally bursts. Chan doesn’t wanna hear it but he knows his brain will be nagging about it later on if he doesn’t clear things up once and for all.

“Jungkook? You mean the footballer you live with?” Hyunjin raises a brow in confusion, “Why do you wanna know about him and your girlfriend? Unless you’re like into that sorta stuff man.”

Chan sighs in exasperation, “No I’m not trying to say anything right now, I’m curious that’s all. Jungkook’s never mentioned any girl before and I’m wondering if he and y/n had history together or some shit, that’s all.”

Hyunjin has this look on his face like he doesn’t truly believe it, but lucky for Chan he doesn’t comment about it. “I heard a couple of things. Two semesters ago someone caught Jeon in his car fucking someone, no one was sure who it was but we all had a feeling it had to be y/n because he posted a like selfie with some girl’s hand in the frame and then y/n posted a pic of her inside someone’s car, it looked like JK’s so we all knew it was them two.” He shrugs.

“Ohh really?” Chan nods slowly, now that he thinks about it Jungkook did mention once or twice of a girl he was fucking on the low, said something about her being “the best piece of ass” he’s ever gotten. Thinking about it now makes Chan’s stomach curl in disgust and other unpleasant feelings.

“Yeah, but that was ages ago man you don’t really have anything to worry about now.” With that Chan’s left alone to wallow in his own thoughts.

The girl he’s been with for the past two months really fucked his friends before she landed on him.. He can’t exactly say he’s happy with the idea but if nothing was going on right now, he was fine. The past was past, you were with him now and nothing was going to change that fact.

He hopes.

+

Chan doesn’t think about it as much as he did before, if anything it’s long forgotten because he rather focus on the present rather than the past. He got over it and made peace with the idea of nothing going on. He blamed it on his damn insecurities.

For about two weeks Chan is in pure bliss with you. Your little dates carry on and surprisingly the comments people made died down. Hell he didn’t notice any weird shit on behalf of his other housemates who seemed to barely be at home whenever Chan brought you over. Seeing this as an opportunity he brings you with him one night, knowing that the guys were out for the night.

Things lead to another and pretty soon you’re both getting down and dirty in his sheets, closed away in the privacy of his bedroom. The perks? You could be as loud as you wanted, and Chan didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing you two go at it through the paper thin walls.

Chan had you laid back on the comforter, thighs wrapped around his midsection and hips a little elevated to strike that spongy spot that drove you crazy all the time. Your head was thrown back on the pillow with your eyes shut in bliss and lips formed in a tiny ‘o’ as moans and whimpers left you.

“C-Chan,” you mewled out, desperately clawing and twisting at the sheets, “so good.” Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering open to stare up at him.

Chan groans under his breath and re-adjusts his grip on your hips, getting a good grip as he plows into your squelching pussy. The sounds of his balls smacking against your ass ring in his ears, the bed creaks audibly against the wooden floor of his bedroom. The sounds were so filthy they were porn worthy.

“Fuck, you gonna cum baby?” He murmurs darkly, face twisting in pleasure as he feels you cunt clench down tightly around his shaft, making his cock throb weakly in response. “Can feel your little pussy gettin’ tighter and tighter for me.”

You moaned lewdly at his words and nod frantically, “Gonna cum–oooh..! R-Right there..!” You writhe on the bed, hips pushing up and squirming around so much you almost slip off his cock.

“Go ahead baby,” Chan moans, “cum on my cock.” He pants heavily, leaning down to smother you in a passionate kiss as his pace speeds up.

You wrap your arms around his neck with a loud moan, teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Chan can feel you getting close, and right before he can reach down to rub at your swollen nub he hears the door click open and Jungkook’s loud laughter.

“Chan, you gotta check this shit out–” Jungkook looks up and his eyes widen, “Holy fuck man, my bad.” He laughs harder.

Any pleasure Chan was feeling moments prior is now gone, he feels his cock even soften from the sound of Jungkook entering. He quickly throws a blanket over your naked form, glad he had been too impatient to take his boxers off. “Jungkook–” he sighs, “Can you step out? Not fucking cool,” he shoots a glare at Jungkook, making sure to cover your smaller frame with his own body.

“Sure, Channie,” Jungkook mocks, “whatever you say.” He turns to walk back out, turning his head over his shoulder to shoot you a smirk, “So you wear lace now?” Chan’s face burns with both anger and embarrassment after Jungkook pointed out the panties set lying on his floor nearby the door. “Don’t get ya panties in a twist, I’m goin’.” Jungkook shuts the door behind him.

A long sigh leaves Chan and he turns to look over at you apologetically, “I forgot to lock the door dammit.” He rubs his face in frustration, irritated that he was reminded of the shit he didn’t want to be thinking about.

“It’s okay Channie,” you sit up, sheets around your body as you gently smooch his cheek, “I still enjoyed tonight with you.” You smile softly.

“Yeah… I did too,” Chan smiles back, trying not to look too dejected.

He confronts Jungkook a few days later. He’s sitting in the living room waiting for Jungkook to come home. He had sent a message and Jungkook simply replied that he’d be home in a few.

“You wanted to talk?” Jungkook says, tossing the keys into a bowl by the door as he sets his drink down, “What’s up?” He grunts, kicking his shoes off and going to sit in the living room across from Chan.

Chan notes the faint sweat on Jungkook’s face, shirt rolled up at the sleeves to show off his defined muscles which made the older look more intimidating. “The other night, you need to knock and I mean it Kook because you don’t know if I’m changing or y/n is not decent or anything and I don’t want shit to happen between us because what happened was fucking inappropriate and I didn’t like that shit. At all.” He folds his arms across his chest with a glare.

Jungkook hums, “Okay.”

“Okay? Is that all?” Chan raises a brow.

Jungkook shrugs, “You wanna know something Chan?” He says calmly and sits with his arms spread over the back of the couch, manspreading with a nonchalant attitude. “With a beautiful ass like that I wouldn’t dream of gatekeeping it from the entire world, I mean, it’s always a good feeling to show the others what they wished they had. So congrats on your win, not everyday someone lands a girl like y/n.”

“Jungkook what the fuck are you on?” Chan frowns.

“Nothing, I’m just being honest with you. I could care less if you’re feeling threatened by me or the guys. I see the way it kills you on the inside hearing all the shit they say about your precious y/n. Does that piss you off Channie? Thinking about how she fucked the three of us before she got to you?” He tilts his head to the side with mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Chan doesn’t think he can reply without having an outburst of some sort, he’s getting more pissed by the second. Any more of Jungkook’s crude talking and Chan thinks he’s going to explode from the anger…and he does NOT want to be the one to fight Jungkook, has anyone seen him in the gym?

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Jungkook smirks, taking a seat next to Chan, “there isn’t nothing about y/n that we haven’t seen already, so the next time you fuck her in the house, remember I once had my dick in there too.” He grins, “Tell her throat I said hi,” he chuckles quietly, getting off of the sofa and disappearing up the stairs.

Chan sits there with a blank stare, fists clenched tightly in his lap as he tries to control his breathing. In, out, in, out. He slumps in his seat, arm thrown over his face as he grumbles. That didn’t go as fucking planned, if anything Jungkook bitched him out without even having to try!

“Fuck,” he sighs longly, he decides he can’t wallow in self pity and rises off the couch.

Right as he steps outside of the house his phone buzzes. Curiously he unlocks his phone and opens the messages (which conveniently was from Jungkook). A thumbnail of a video sits innocently in the chat, Chan’s stomach drops because he knows what this is. His hands shake as he presses on the video.

.

Jungkook was a really nice guy, he teased you a lot and was a bit cocky but it added to his charms. You meet through a mutual friend, who you feel sorry for because her plans to hook up with Jungkook seemed to fly out the window the moment he lays eyes on you. Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that the only person he was taking home was going to be you.

He fucked you so good you couldn’t even feel your legs afterwards, it was ten out of ten and you could see yourself coming back again. It turned into a little dick appointment situation, meeting up whenever either one of you wanted to fuck. Whether it be in the morning of afternoon or dead in the night it didn’t matter, somehow you guys always ended up fucking.

You felt comfortable enough with him to post about it without exactly letting anyone know it was Jungkook you were fucking. Jungkook did the same, often asking to record and take pictures while he was hitting it from the back or balls deep inside of you.

One night you will never forget is when Jungkook decides to record you in his car, the video itself is about forty minutes long, and that’s what he decided to capture (your fucking went on much longer than that). The first scene is shot with his phone propped up on the dashboard, facing the driver's seat.

You’re sitting in his lap grinding and rocking your hips in tiny circles around his throbbing wet cock. Jungkook had his arms wrapped tightly around your back as he held you close to him while you fucked yourself silly on his cock. Loud whimpers and little “uh’s” escaped your lips. The sound of your wet pussy drooling over his cock and the back of your thighs smacking into him resonated throughout the whole car.

Jungkook had one hand buried in your hair, gripping it tightly as he yanked your head back while you rode him. His eyes flickered past your shoulder and into the camera as he smirked darkly, toying with his lip ring while you frantically moved your hips.

“Mmm..! Ooh, right there,” you pant out in pleasure, eyes stinging from the pleasure and pleasant ache you feel from him yanking on your hair. Your hips slow down and swivel in small circles so you can feel his thick cock rub up against your walls in a delicious angle that has you seeing stars.

Jungkook focuses his attention right back to you and grunts softly, “There you go, good girl.” He uses his other hand to grip your hip as he helps you grind in smooth circles on his cock. “Shit,” he sighs, relaxing into the seat and letting his head roll back on the headrest.

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, you hide yourself away in the crook of his neck and desperately roll your hips. Soft little moans and needy whines leave you every so often, the windows of the car have fogged up by now and the music playing from the radio is merely background noise.

Everytime you push your hips back you feel the soaked material of Jungkook’s sweats given that he hadn’t bothered with slipping them past his thighs. You shiver pleasantly when his hot breath hovers over your hardened nipples. He encloses one of the sensitive buds in his mouth, suckling gently and rolling his tongue around.

“Mmm..!” You arch your back even more, desperately chasing after the pleasure erupting in your chest area. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind you pushing your soft tits in his face as he merely buries himself away in your chest while you ride him like your life depends on it.

After getting you to cum a couple of times he moves you two to the backseat. He’s holding his phone above you and recording the way your ass smacks against his hips. There’s a much louder slapping sound since he’s in control of the pace now, he wants you to feel this fucking for days to come.

“Greedy little thing you are, can’t seem to get enough of my cock can you?” Jungkook pants softly while slapping his hips against you, “Not gonna answer? Did I fuck you stupid already baby? Answer me,” he slaps your ass, “go on, tell me how good your ‘Jungkookie’ fucks you.” He grins, his laughter coming out breathless and dazed.

“ ‘s not enough, want it more–deeper, harder.” You gasp out, hands resting above you on the window to keep you grounded while he fucked your brains out, “Can feel it so deep inside,” you breathily moan, eyes slipping shut as his cock bumps into that spongy senstive spot inside of you, “mmmm–there–wanna cum again.” Your lips part, face scrunching cutely in pleasure as your body begins to go slack.

Jungkook softly moans and aims the camera down where you’re both connected. He increases the speed of his thrusts and angles his hips to keep hitting your sweet spot. He feels your pussy tighten and pulse around his cock, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Look up for me baby, say hi to the camera,” Jungkook licks his lips.

You tilt your head up with hooded and dazed eyes, moans tumbling from your lips and a little bit of drool slipping out the corner of your lips. Your breath hitches quietly, pouty lips parting once more as the noises you make increase in pitch. “There you go, show everyone what a slut you are for cock,” he smirks and reaches down with his tattooed hand to grab your chin and face you towards him.

“Oh fuck! Yes, yes..!” Chan sits there in his car with his jaw dropped, watching the now shaky video as Jungkook presumably fucks you into next week with how hard he’s going. Bitter humiliation sits in the pits of his belly.

+

Over the next few weeks Chan distances himself from everything really. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look at you now knowing the shit that happened with Jungkook. It was one thing to sit and listen to all these people talk about you two but it was a whole different story seeing it on video. Truly crushed his dignity and maybe his ego.

You of course had asked him if anything was wrong but Chan said the same thing, “No babe, just tired and burnt out from school stuff I got going.” And you bought it everytime. He felt bad yes but at the same time he felt like he just needed a little bit of space, he didn’t want to take his anger out on you because you didn’t deserve any of that.

Things back at the house seemed tense, Jungkook looked smug whenever he saw Chan and well, Chan didn’t have the energy to fight over shit like this. One would see it as him accepting that he was a bitch but Chan thought about it differently. Sure he felt extremely disrespected but what else could he do? He can’t reverse time and change the past.

Namjoon hadn’t bothered to comment much (the most he offered was “shit’s childish”) and Hoseok well he kind of tried to play mediator of the situation. He would make some jokes here and there to ease the tension in the room but Jungkook didn’t care. Jungkook was the most relaxed, and it irked Chan to no end how nonchalant he was about this, like if he didn’t show someone a video of him pounding their girlfriend.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok hums, shooting him that bright little smile he always gave everyone. “You’ve been oddly quiet for weeks now Chan.”

Chan looks at the elder with a quiet hum, “Nothing much Seok, just have a lot on my mind right now. And if you’re wondering, no I'm not upset with Jungkook or anything so you can rest easy. There won’t be a fight or anything like that.” He throws his head back and lets it hang off the couch, a long sigh escaping.

“Your face says otherwise.” Hoseok smirks.

“Listen, I don’t mean this in a bad way or anything but I’d appreciate it if you a) stop bringing this up about Jungkook and b) knock whatever weird fucking obsession you have with my girlfriend off. It’s fucking weird that you guys talk about her, make these smart ass comments, and eye fuck her when I’m right there. I get it, you guys fucked in the past but we’re in a relationship and I’d very much like for you to respect it.” He glares back, not realizing his voice rose with every word he spoke.

Hoseok stares at him for a few minutes with no expression on his face, and Chan at first thinks he fucked up but then the unexpected happens. The fucker laughs. He watches Hoseok throw his head back, shoulders shaking as he slaps his knee a couple of times.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Chan grits his teeth.

“Damn ‘Channie’ I thought you were better than this, you should feel happy she chose to be with you. You’re the mannnn,” he playfully hits Chan on the side, “I mean, she tastes as good as she looks.” He licks his lips, staring into Chan’s eyes unapologetically. “Does she still wear those pink panties of hers? You know which ones, little white bow and lacey trim…”

Chan knows exactly which ones he’s referring to. His fists clench in his lap tightly, he silently rages in his spot but it doesn't deter Hoseok. “I bet she still holds your head down right when she’s about to cum,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, “does this little thing with her hips, practically smothering you with her pussy.” Chan snaps his head towards Hoseok, watching as the usually playful man taunts and teases him.

“Oh I bet she does.” He grins, “Funny…she used to do the same with me.” He gets up and walks away with no other words. Chan stares ahead at the wall with a blank look and a fiery anger running through his veins.

.

Hoseok was buried between your soft thighs, licking and sucking at your swollen clit with his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of your sopping wet pussy. Moans and whimpers tumbled freely from your lips, your head was thrown back with your lips parted and expression twisted into one of pure pleasure and bliss.

His fingers felt so good, stretching and filling your pussy to the brim. He stroked over your g-spot repeatedly, pairing his strokes with powerful sucks on your clit. It only had you dripping even more, thighs shaky and pussy leaking even more for him. “Seok,” you whimper, squirming around and lifting your hips as if you were offering your pussy up on a silver platter.

Hoseok took the bait, happily slurping away with his eyes closed as if he were in pleasure just being there between your soft thighs. Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, the pleasure sat hot in the pits of your belly. Hoseok was hellbent on getting you to gush because he wouldn’t let up on your g-spot.

“Fuck,” he softly pants against your soft pussy, “listen to you, absolutely fuckin’ soaked around my fingers.” He grins licking his lips, “You gonna squirt around my fingers like a good girl?”

His fingers start moving rapidly, the squelching noises get louder and tiny bits of slick spurt out from the sides of his fingers as he fucks them in and out. Your mouth falls open, you’re breathless as you weakly grip the bed sheets tightly. “Seok..!”

“That’s it, cum on my fingers and make a mess for me baby, gonna have you suck ‘em clean for me. ‘s what good girls do, isn’t that right?” He grins.

“Y-Yes..!” You gasp out.

Hoseok goes back down to take your clit in his mouth again, sucking harder than before. It sends a tremor down your spine and you cry out weakly, pussy squirting around his fingers. He moans for extra measure, causing you to weakly moan out for him to stop because it was getting to be too much.

“Good girl,” he pulls back and lifts his wet fingers, “now clean ‘em.”

.

Chan feels like he could fucking explode any minute now, everyone is walking around on eggshells in the damn house and of course Hoseok and Jungkook will stick together. Chan isn’t so sure about where Namjoon stands in all of this but he’s pretty certain he’ll side with his two friends on this one. Chan doesn’t care anymore, in fact he was already planning on leaving.

Call him a coward but he wasn’t going to waste his breath fighting, hell he wasn’t even sure y/n gave a shit about what was going on. Sometimes it made him feel like there was something he wasn’t seeing. Like this was some sort of test or a sick joke on their end, and as much as he didn’t wanna think about the possibility of you also playing sick games with him it was hard.

He hadn’t had much time to sit and talk with Namjoon given that there was tension in the house but Chan was pretty surprised to see Namjoon at home for once. These days it seemed like he was out more often to avoid the conflicts at home. It was even more surprising when Namjoon spoke to him.

“What’s up with you?” Namjoon nods his head at him, “Feels like we haven’t talked in a hot minute.”

Chan shrugs, “Been busy with work, school, you know how it is.” He replies back, busying himself with going through the fridge for his gatorade.

“You know this shit’s childish,” there it was, leave it to Namjoon to be the one to address the elephant in the room, “whatever the hell you got goin with Kook and Seok is gonna blow over pretty soon. I’m only saying this in case you guys hash it out in the yard and beat eachother up over something stupid.” He shrugs.

“And what would you classify as stupid? How is me calling them out for their weird ass behavior childish. No, you see I’m not stupid enough to fight over it but don’t you fucking think maybe I should speak up about it? It’s my fucking girlfriend we’re talking about, of course you would see me in the wrong because they’re your fucking friends.” He slams the fridge door a little harder then he intended to.

Namjoon raises a brow, “And what you gonna do about it?” He stands, rounding the table like a predator with narrowed eyes and an intense gaze, “Listen, the reality here is your girl fucked everyone in this house, simple as that. She’s been on Jungkook’s dick, Hoseok’s and mine. And if I fucking wanted to I’d have her hanging off my dick right here and right now in front of your face. And you wouldn’t do anything about it because you’re a little bitch who gets cucked in front of your damn face.” He stands in front of Chan now, staring down at him with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

Chan glares back, but Namjoon sets a hand on his shoulder, “Do me a favor and get some air, I can’t guarantee you things will be pretty if you stay. Unless you want me to show you just how well she takes my cock.”

.

You pull back from his cock with a low pop, tongue swirling and collecting the beads of precum around his tip. Namjoon’s grip tightens in your hair, cock weakly throbbing because the head of his cock was a sensitive area for him. You cheekily dig your tongue into his slit to get a reaction out of him.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps out, hips jumping once more in surprise, “just like that..” He moans.

You take his cock into your mouth once more and start bobbing your head. You use your hands to twist and stroke his shaft. His moans rise in volume as the hand in your hair starts guiding you up and down his cock. Your eyes water occasionally from the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Take it like a good girl baby, gonna cum down your throat.. You gonna swallow like a good girl?” He rasps out. You eagerly nod and reach down to cup his balls, massaging them gently while you try to suck the soul out of him.

Namjoon’s hips stutter in their movements when he gets closer to coming undone. He groans louder and holds your head still to fuck up into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck.” He moans out as he throws his head back. You feel his cock twitch and throb in your mouth and you cheekily moan to cause vibrations.

He comes undone, cum spilling down your throat, “Fuckkkkk,” he whispers out, “so good for me baby..” he strokes over your head and keeps your head down until he’s done coming. “Go on and clean the mess you made, I don’t want to see not one drop go to waste.”

.

Chan heads straight over to your place. On the way he tries to calm himself down but everytime he thinks about the conversation earlier he ends up heated all over again. “Fuck!” Chan yells in anger as he hits the steering wheel angrily.

“Chan?” Your sweet voice interrupts his thoughts, “I was asking if you wanted me to order some pizza and we can go pick it up?” You rub his back gently, comforting even, “Is everything okay?”

Chan shakes his head with a long sigh, burying his face in his hands as he looks over at you, “Some shit happened earlier but I’m fine now,” he waves you off, “call, call, I’m gonna use the restroom real quick.” He murmurs and gets up.

He felt even more pathetic that he couldn’t talk to you about what he was going through. Then again what could you do? You weren’t even their friends so it wasn’t like you could waltz in there and tell them off or something. You didn’t have a clue what was happening inside the house since Chan wasn’t bringing you around.

Chan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “You got this.” He whispered and freshened up a bit before heading back out to you.

“Channie, I ordered the pizza, it’s gonna be ready in about fifteen minutes or so I think.” You say from inside the kitchen where you’re pouring him a glass of water, “Here sit, sit, you look really tense and stuff.”

“Thanks baby,” He smiles softly, all tension leaving his body since he couldn’t really stay mad around you. “How was your day?”

You shrug cutely, “Nothing too special since I went to class and after I just worked on my paper with Jungkook.”

Chan pauses, “Jungkook?” when you nod he speaks again, “Why?”

“We have the same class.” You reply softly.

Chan grips the cup a bit tighter, “No.. I mean why are you hanging around him? I told you it made me uncomfortable that you hang out with him when I’m not around.” He’s about to pop a fucking vessel with how angry he is.

You look unfazed, “Jungkook and I are friends,” you simply say, “I didn’t realize you were on such bad terms with him or something? Did anything happen for you to not like him?”

“Did anything happen?! Oh I don’t know y/n I’ve been fucking getting ganged up on by him and the guys, they’re all telling me what a hot piece of ass I got as a girlfriend! You think that’s something to get angry over? Are you gonna fucking sit there and tell me not to worry because you’re just friends?” He blows up.

Your lips part in surprise, eyes widening in awe as you listen to him rant angrily. “I tolerated enough when it came to them and you, I get it you all fucked and you fucking liked so what?! What the hell do you want me to do about it? Give you a fucking cookie and say good job?!”

His chest rises up and down in anger as he comes down from the rush. He stares down at you with pleading eyes, he wants you to say something. Anything. He just wants to put everything past him now.. Your lips part and you go to say something when he suddenly hears clapping behind you. “What the.” Chan frowns.

He looks over your shoulder and his heart drops to his ass. Jungkook comes out with a smug little smile on his lips as he takes a seat on the coffee table next to where you’re standing. “What a show you put on,” Jungkook whistles in amusement as he slithers an arm around your legs and tugs you closer to him, “didn’t know it had you bothered like that.”

“y/n what the fuck is going on?” Chan seethes, “Why the fuck is he here? Are you cheating on me with him, is that it?”

You stare at him with those sweet little puppy eyes of yours, pout forming on your lips as you gently reach over to caress Jungkook’s hair, sending Chan into a state of disbelief. “No, I’m not cheating on you. I thought you would have noticed by now, seems like you don’t pay enough attention.”

“Notice what?” He grits his teeth.

Jungkook chuckles, “Why do you think people call her Hoseok’s girl? Or my girl? Or Joon’s?” He sits back with a smug smirk, “I know you noticed how friendly we all were with each other. Listen, Chan buddy, if you ever thought you had y/n you were dead wrong. You see we love our baby, and if she says she wants to fuck you then she’s gonna fuck you simple as that. We’ve always let our girl have her fun because at the end of the day she comes back to us.” He grins.

You hum softly, “It’s fair game Channie, I do what I want but I’m still theirs. Joonie and the boys like to mess around with the guys though.. Surprised you lasted this long.”

It dawns on him this was all a sick game between the four of you. Chan stares in horror and disbelief, “You guys are fucking psychos..” He whispers.

“We’ll see you around… Channie.” Jungkook smirks.

Chan turns to you but you’re more focused on brushing Jungkook’s hair, “Pity Kookie, I actually liked this one.” You murmur softly without offering a single glance at Chan.

Chan fucking hates his life.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @sxtaep ( for u bby )

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts hoseok #bts jungkook #jung hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #namjoon smut #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader

[fruitsofhell]

Something I really like about Rose Quartz's characterization is how dedicated the writers were to making what she did morally grey. Idk it would have been really easy for the twist to be she was Just Evil, especially learning she was related to the main villains, but no they created this very vague character who even in her appearances feels mysterious. If anything Rose is the one thing that is less clear to me after my rewatch, because now seeing the nuance in her character pulls me out of a black-ane-white view of her and into one that is just... foggy.

But a vibe I do get from Rose, is that despite clearly being incredibly compassionate, she's someone who lacks empathy in the case of the ability to fully realize others' autonomy and thought processes. There's just a lot of decisions she makes that feel aloof in an odd way, and when combined with how childish she can be it can give the impression she sees everything as a game. But it's still clear that she cares and is genuinely moved by the Earth, and when her entire truth is revealed you can see how ideologically honest she was. Even if it feels like her beliefs are just so she can have fun, but that is part of freedom, the freedom to vibe and explore and do silly things she couldn't.

That attitude clearly just comes from her position as Pink Diamond. It was an oppressive role emotionally, but not as literally oppressive as the lives of those around her. I think her relationship with Pearl is where I find the most of the part of me that sees her as compassionate but unempathetic. Pink can't fathom what it's like to have been born to be an obedient servant and how that would cloud Pearl's judgement. How telling her "I'm going to fight for this world but you dont have to" would mean nothing to her because she is still obsessed with her, how entering a romantic relationship with something while they're still effectively your servant is unhealthy, or how spending her life flirting with other men would probably tear your servant-to-lover-to-ex up inside lmao. With the first she obviously meant to be giving her a choice because she cares about Pearl, but she can't understand how to truly give Pearl freedom of choice she can't treat her like a fully freethinking person. With the second she doesn't understand how her power has an unhealthy impact on her bond with Pearl. And with the last it's not at all that Rose isn't allowed to move on, but I just always found she has a lack of awareness of Pearl's jealousy and misery that's a bit inappropriate. Not that you can't assume she has already let Pearl down easy or cares about her coping, but it's never shown, which feels like a deliberate choice.

I'm working on a more organized theory about Rose's characterization, but it is deeply fascinating. Her and Pearl's relationship is as well, I feel like it's sometimes characterized as just a mean jealous ex situation but like it's way more fucked than that, and is a great exploration of power dynamics, obsession, and grief. Love me some toxic doomed yuri.

#steven universe #pearl #rose quartz #pink diamond #su #shut the heck up #theories and rambling #i need to redo my tagging systems honestly #this is super unorganized but i just wanted to get it out #i reallybreally love characters with low empathy and high compassion so i might be projecting preferences lol

[goldenmetstli]

What would Seto Kaiba be like if he were in love?

NOTES: I wrote this with a Reader Insert in mind, but to be honest you can also read it just as a general headcanon! Reader Insert is gender neutral.

I tried my best to write him as close to canon as I could because I think it's pretty interesting to explore how a man like Seto Kaiba feels romantic love (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

★ He doesn't register his feelings and would never cross his mind that he likes someone. He is a little obsessed with them, that's all. And even then, he sees it as "being focused"

★ He doesn't know how to have healthy and normal relationships, not only romantic ones but friendships too.

★ He would never fall in love at first sight, it takes a loooooong time for him to even trust a person enough to consider them worthy of their time. He is the kind of person who sees everyone as a means to an end.

★ Seto has an obsessive, competitive, and antisocial personality, so in his mind, he associates liking someone with wanting to prove that he is better than them.

★ Every time Seto sees you he feels a mixture of excitement and smugness. He knows he would say the perfect thing that might disarm you and make you feel like an idiot but is always a little bit delightful if you have a comeback.

★ As his feelings grow, he notices that he NEEDS to see you. The fun thing about Seto is that he always has the perfect excuse to convince himself that there's a bigger reason why he randomly appears at a place that you frequent or why he knows a lot about you.

★ I don't consider him yandere because he doesn't have bad intentions, he is just navigating his emotions in his own way (he leans more into the tsundere territory). But as I said: he does get a little obsessed with you.

★ Would he ever acknowledge his infatuation? Well, after many situations and even comments from Mokuba pointing out his odd behavior (and that is saying a lot), in a moment of solitude where is just him and his thoughts, he might question for a moment if what he is feeling is attraction.

★ He then would laugh at how ridiculous that sounds and that would be the end of it lol It needs to pass more time for Seto to actually confront himself with his feelings.

★ Seto has been single his whole life, and even if his emotions have always been pretty intense (when he is angry he gets furious, when he is frustrated he gets desperate, etc) he doesn't register feeling romantic love for anyone, so this is new territory.

★ This man goes through all 5 stages of grief just by accepting his feelings for you and desperately tries to find a logical reason as to why he feels this way. Is uncomfortable, and awkward, and at times he gets angry at you.

★ It depends on the situation, on who you are, and what is happening around him to say if he would ever make a move.

★ But if he doesn't then he can live without you, he deals great with loneliness but that doesn't mean Seto would stop trying to see you on any occasion. He would just get better at controlling his feelings.

★ But what if his feelings grow to be LOVE? Then we are in trouble.

★ Another 5 stages of grief lmao poor guy HATES not being in control, and emotions are confusing, weird, and annoying. Why does he, of all people, have to deal with this? He hates you. But also don't. He hates your face, but he likes to see it, he despises your voice but he gets weird tingles when you talk to him. He admires your resilience but also wants to throw you from a cliff.

★ It depends if you are another duelist, an employee, or a normal person with a profession as to how he would act but I can see him being more aggressive towards you.

★ If you two are DUELISTS then he would get even more competitive and intense during your duels.

★ If you are an EMPLOYEE, Seto will raise your position to one where he needs to supervise you and create a lot of challenges for you to overcome (is his way to revenge for what you are making him feel).

★ If you are a NORMAL PERSON with a profession, he would make excuses to make your company work for him and feel near you. This is his way of making him feel like he is in control of his emotions and the situation...

★ Well! That's all for now! ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 This is getting really long, so I might write in the future a second part as to how Seto would act as a boyfriend

#seto kaiba #seto kaiba x reader #yugioh headcanons #yugioh imagines #kaiba x reader #reader insert #yugioh x reader #happy holidays! this is how I spend the day of christmas #writing yugioh headcanons lmaoo

[myslvtwritings]

Human Heian era! Muzan with arranged marriage wife! s/o super sweet and kind. Cue tsundere (and in denial ✨) Muzan whenever his wife cares for him. Wants to cuddle with her and tries to makes up the excuses that he needs her body heat lmao

... Then she dies after trying to get blue spider lily for the medicine that the doctor requested (doctor "hinted" to lady s/o that the flower can be a cure for Muzan so he could trick her to get it for his lazy self lmao)

Fluff to angst my cup of tea 👍

LOVE THIS IDEA!!

➤ Muzan with a wife!reader

➤ SFW headcanons (not proof read)

Human!muzan x Fem!reader

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•

•

warnings: death of reader

No, no, no, no.

None of this sat right with him!

Why, why on god mother earth would he need a wife only to probably get bored of him and slowly witness him die?

What’s the meaning of this nonsense?

Muzan isn’t happy with it one bit.

He throws a fit.

Bro is immature as hell to be honest.

He judges you and absolutely resents this situation before he even meets you.

Fast forward to the first time y’all meet. let’s just say you aren’t what he expected!

you were.. so kind. it almost seemed unreal.

Wonders if your kindness is fake or genuine.

He obviously doesn’t admit he does in fact enjoy your presence so instead he either throws childish insults at you or pretends he doesn’t want to be around you when really he craves your body warmth and soothing voice.

I feel like this Muzan is insecure.

Like, definitely insecure of his sickness and he usually asks you why you even want him if he’s just going to die in the end.

You consistently remind him that you love him for who he is and reassure him that you’re going to find a cure for him.

Doesn’t really help since he hears that from the doctor 24/7 but when it’s coming from you he actually feels a bit better about himself which is a first.

I also headcanon that this Muzan grows a bit shy when you touch him.

That’s only because he isn’t used to someone touching him so intimately and gently.

If you notice his flushed cheeks don’t you dare point it out!!

One night, Muzan really wasn’t feeling the best (as per usual) so being the loving wife you are you gladly offered him cuddles. you enjoy holding him, or him holding you.

Most of the time it’s mostly you holding him since he struggles to move..

Despite him being the biggest asshole on the face of the earth sometimes he does have a cute side.

Cue those special moments whenever you have to leave the futon he lies in, he briskly grabs your waist and pulls you back down with him while mumbling the words “stay”

Anywho, you smother this man to death at times.

Turns all Tsundere mode every time you do anything.

Acts repulsed by love but deep down you know he loves you just as much as you love him.

You adore Muzan with all your heart. No words can even begin to describe how deeply you appreciate him. You’d do anything to see him grow healthy. You know he can!

You’d walk the earth to find your husband a cure for his sickness.

Muzans doctor is highly aware of your growing relationship with him and how you’re so desperate to please him.

So, here you are, naively making the fatal mistake of doing the doctor a massive favor and searching for a medicine/plant called “blue spider lily”

Your clueless self accepts this mission in a heartbeat, assuming ahead of time that nothing could possibly go wrong.

Oh my, what an unfortunate evening that was because as soon as you leave town a deadly storm hits.

To make matters worst, Muzan isn’t even aware of any of this. He just thinks you forgot to visit him tonight.. which is incredibly odd considering the fact you’re all over him by now.

Doesn’t think much of it all until you’re pronounced dead by the next day.

You died, searching for that damn flower that the lazy bum doctor couldn’t get himself?!

As soon as he heard of your death, Muzan goes on a rampage with all the strength he can muster up in his fragile body.

He killed the doctor that same day you were announced dead.

Now Muzan truly has nobody. No cure for his illness, his lovely wife is gone, the doctor isn’t alive to nurse him back to health.

But at the end of the day, he doesn’t care for the doctor, nor that stupid medicine.

He only cares about you.

Muzan is aware he’s close to dying. All his life he despised his condition, desired for it only to go away, dying was his greatest fear.

But now?

Maybe dying isn’t so horrible after all.

At least he could reunite with you in the afterlife.

A/N: i apologize if this post isn’t well written. i was rushing and i’ve been insanely busy lately! I hope you enjoyed tho:))

#demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny headcanons #kny x reader #kny x you #upper moons #kny demons #demon slayer demons #demon slayer anime #demon slayer manga #upper moon headcanons #upper moons x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan headcanons #muzan kibutsuji headcanons #kny muzan #angst headcanons #headcanons #x reader #fem!reader

[t1ts-4-scattorcio]

i love ur headcanons!! would u be able to do how lottienat would be in bed with a shy partner :)

Ofc 💕 Shy partner sleeping with LottieNat

LottieNat x Shy Reader

SFW:

You were definitely nervous about physical contact around nat and lots when you were first dating them, you had never been intimate with someone before so it took you a little bit of time to get out of your shell

the first time you had shared the bed with both girls was at a sleepover at lottie's house, it had been a long night and you were ready to crash. Lottie and nat were huddled up together and you stood at the end of her bed arms crossed looking down wondering how to approach the situation

nat pulls your hand and you walk toward her side, she caresses your cheek and softly pulls the covers off so you can slip in next to her, at first you're stiff but slowly calm down, "It's just me," looks over at lottie "just us" she presses a kiss on your forehead and lottie reaches over and attacks you with kisses and love making you laugh.

you hide your face in lottie's neck when nat compliments you and calls you her baby right after getting ready for bed (or the other way around). You’re so pookie

running hands through your hair and being a little spoon when you're anxious

sleeping with them becomes a coping mechanism fr, place free of judgement

with time you would squeeze yourself between them or anywhere on the bed without feeling odd about it. They were so happy too that you were comfortable enough to do that around them.

nat hogs the blankets so you need to get one for yourself or end up on top of lottie and she holds you close so you're warm. Nat gets jealous though and pulls you into her arms if she wakes up in the middle of the night girl is so needy 😙

Lottie is always SO WARM, personal heater for real it's terrible in the summer "lottie please let go it's too hot" you shove her off and lean into nats space, 5 mins later and lottie has latched you to her side again, but both girls want to be close to you.

NSFW:

nat usually initiates anything sexual especially when you all are high. Inhibitions are low so you relax way easier, you are also bolder and not scared to initiate anything, straddling lottie grinding down on her while grabbing nat by her collar and kissing her.

waking up with nat between your thighs and lottie sloppily pecking your neck, running her hands across your chest and down your waist.

you wake up with loads of hickeys and have to smother yourself in foundation that eventually rubs off when you go to practice. Tai and van always make fun of you for it lmao

Post Crash:

they both become protective since you're in a new space and it's not that comfortable

will make the best makeshift bed you can possibly imagine in the cabin.

will become a cuddle pile whenever you're snowed in and there's nothing to do the other girls get kind of annoyed that you're all relaxing but let's bffr 🙄there's nothing else to do, the other girly pops are just jealous they should cuddle each other.

I think you both start to care more for nat after she gets hunted and is stressed out about being queen, holding her when she wakes up crying from nightmares and rocking her back and forth until she's fast asleep again

sleep is one of the the best parts of your day honestly, it's perfect alone time and beyond comforting in such a scary place.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets headcanons #lottienat #lottienat headcanons #yellowjackets blurbs #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets x reader #lottienat x reader #lottienat imagine #lottie matthews x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #lottie matthews headcanons #natalie scatorccio headcanons #lottie matthews #natalie scatorccio #nat scattorcio

[thesunshinecourts]

five curiosities for the next book, after reading the sunshine court

a non-exhaustive list, but five things i'm curious to (hopefully) find out more about in TSC2, or that i have questions about still:

what happened at the trojans' fall banquet (presumably jeremy's first year)? it's a Scandal, and jeremy cannot stand to be around bryson, and annalise has never forgiven him for sticking with exy after that, despite having attended all his games in high school. given the allusions to his stepfather, and also his step-grandfather being a congressman, i can see how jeremy's sexuality might be relevant to the situation—especially if we read into lucas' stiff apology and shame at his implication about jeremy and jean as being born from more than just common decency, but rather knowledge of this being a previous sticking point in terms of jeremy's scandals—but i also keep thinking about what cat said. jeremy has—three. two brothers, one sister. the way she says it, how it sticks out to jean as an odd switch, and the fact that we've only met two siblings – it makes me wonder what happened to the third. or if that's even the right question to ask, regarding jeremy's siblings.

elodie. i'm curious if we learn anything about what happened—by and large, i kinda hope not, if only because then jean has to too, unless it turns out stuart is lying, but that's a very different kind of fallout. (i don't actively theorise he is—at some point, these kids will run out of tolerance for ghost stories coming back to life—but i think its possibility ought to be considered, at least). i think we'll get more flashes of her from jean's thoughts, though, and i anticipate lots of heartbreak lmao

lucas. assuming stuart's contact comes through, and neil's hit goes ahead, we've got lucas in the aftermath of finding out his brother is a monster, and jean saying not to call the police, and then possibly his brother being dead. if it happens any other day—if it happens in west virginia, especially—i suspect lucas might be able to look at it like another domino in the ravens machine falling down, or even that something horrible happened to him when he returned home, but if it's still in LA, after what he did to jean, after jean said no cops-------i can see how that might twist into something more suspicious. who knows! i'm curious to see what happens there. grayson is a monster, but he is still lucas' brother. aaron and kevin still have complicated grief about tilda and riko, and they were their direct, constant abusers; cass never learned until after the fact, and lucas is in a complex space between the two parts of that spectrum. if grayson dies, i think the fallout will be unavoidable for exploration

this is a small one but man, i just want to keep seeing jean's list grow. it tears something out of me every time, and stitches me back together, and i want to go through that over and over, because i want to see a jean who not only hears that his life is his and worth living, but a jean who learns to believe it too

i'm just kinda assuming we see the foxes again, because i remember nora's character list having new details about characters who didn't show up in this one, but i'm also quietly hoping for more thea. their scene made me ache, and he'd never had good defenses against thea, and kevin knew that. jean would kill him for bringing her here made my heart do the !! double-tap. i'm extremely invested in jean, thea and kevin as a unit, and it would be so incredibly wonderful to see more

#the sunshine court #tsc #tsc spoilers #TSC2 #jeremy knox #jean moreau #elodie moreau #thea muldani #lucas johnson

[jishyucks]

Groceries are Overrated — ldh

‣ pairing: supermarket worker!haechan x customer!reader

‣ genre: fluff, strangers-to-lovers?, sorta slice-of-life

‣ wc: 5.6k

‣ summary: After multiple encounters, you develop a crush on the boy working at your local supermarket. And who knows? Maybe the feeling is mutual.

‣ warnings?: nothing too bad I think!, mentions of hyuck breaking his pinky finger LMAO, jokes of plans to stalk/kidnap (false accusations)

‣ an: uhhhh tell me how I made an entire fic that’s set in a mf grocery store (˶x     x˶);; it genuinely was only supposed to be like 2k or less,, this is how u know that I romanticize EVERYTHING (sigh imagine how easy life would be if situations like these existed)

‣ taglist: @flowerjun @mosviqu

Your roommate, Karina, had the knack of sending you out to the grocery store against your will. In fact, you couldn't even recall how many times it had occurred in the last month. It feels like you’ve dropped by the store every day on the way home and you’re beginning to think that the employees believe you’re crazy.

But, in all honesty, you couldn’t blame her. After all, no one could resist the taste of your cooking and baking.

So here you were, moving up and down the seemingly endless aisles of the store on a mission to locate cream of tartar for your meringue cookies. 

It was odd because you’d usually find the powder alongside the sugars and spices in a bag or container like salt and pepper. Today, it was nowhere to be found, not even the price tag stuck to the shelves that indicated that it was there, just not in stock.

You sigh and slowly make your way down the aisles, laying your eye on every single item sitting on the shelves. Other customers looked at you like you were crazy, occasionally stretching your neck or lowering yourself into a squatting position just to view the bottom shelves. But at this point, you honestly could not give two shits if you looked looney.

“Did you lose something?” A pair of feet appear in front of you in the middle of your squat. You freeze and look up to see an employee looking down at you. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh, “I’ve seen you go up and down the store like… a lot of times.” 

Your eyes widen and laugh sheepishly. Standing up, you shake your head, “Um, actually I was looking for the cream of tartar! I can’t… seem to find it.”

“In the cereal section?” 

Now that you’re up and standing, you get a better look of the worker in front of you and you recognize him as one of the newer employees of the store. You can only say this with full confidence because you’ve been acquainted with a majority of the staff and most, if not, all were older than forty. This employee, you would say, was around your age. You take a quick glance at his name tag and read it. 

Donghyuck.

“You never know!” You laugh again, this time wishing that the ground would just swallow you whole before the (actually really cute) boy could reply to you. How could you embarrass yourself like this?

Donghyuck lets out a short snort, “It’s in aisle six, you know, with the sugars and spices?” 

It takes you a second to realize that you’re currently in aisle 23. “I looked! I swear it wasn’t there!”

He grins, “Then let me take you.” 

The boy begins walking away from you and you trail not too far behind him. If Donghyuck miraculously brings you to the cream of tartar, you’re going to think that the universe is against you.

He walks about three paces in front of you, strides slightly longer than yours. Although you both did not know each other, you found it a bit awkward walking in silence. “Just a random thought but are you a new worker here?”

Donghyuck slows down and turns to look at you, playing off of your question, “What are you, the owner of this place?” 

“No,” You shake your head and laugh, “I just know a lot of the employees here because I go here a lot.” 

“Ah, makes sense,” Donghyuck hums, “I just started working here last week. My grandma works here and I needed extra money so she got me this job.” 

You make a sound of acknowledgment. This time, you decide to joke, “Ohhh, so you’re a nepo baby! So what do you do? Roam the aisles?” 

He gives you a look, but it’s quickly wiped off of his face when he goes to answer you, “I sorta do everything, so if you do go here a lot, you’ll be seeing me everywhere—ah, here we are.” Donghyuck shuffles over to the rows of spices and uses his finger to follow his place. 

“See, it’s not—”

“Found it!” Donghyuck bends down and snatches a bag of cream of tartar. Then, he turns to hand it over to you, the corners of his lips sitting high on his cheeks. 

“Thanks,” you say, unsure of how to end the interaction.

“You’re welcome,” Donghyuck nods, “Well, it was nice meeting you, loyal customer, but I have to go back to whatever I was doing. I’ll see you around!” Before you even get to bid him goodbye, Donghyuck spins on the balls of his feet and starts making his way back to the last aisles.

You’re left thinking how you actually hope to see more of him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s once in a blue moon that you go to the grocery store for a reason other than ingredients and food. Today, you’re set on finding a plant or two to liven up your apartment. The only problem was you genuinely did not know what plant best suited you and Karina.

You have your phone out, searching up the plant names you can barely read from the name tags. Being that you were in the garden centre of the store, the sun was beating down against your forehead and you’re really wishing that you can find some plants and leave so you can get back to your air-conditioned home. 

Your goal was to find a plant that could thrive without direct sunlight, given that your apartment didn’t receive sunlight all day, and one that might be a bit neglected due to yours and Karina’s busy schedules.

Francee Hosta. You read, a flowering perennial plant. Lavender blooms in the late Summer. Grows tall, 28 inches. Great for landscaping and can fill empty space well. Best in part to full shade.

“Good competitor,” you say under your breath. Mentally, you put a star on the plant and move on, hoping to gather as many options as you can. You’re not even halfway down the entirety of the garden centre so you’re fully confident that you’ll find one, but you just wish that it was actually easier finding the plant you wanted.

You move on, positioning yourself right beside the next plant you intend to research. It resembled a small aloe vera, only each ‘leaf’ was adorned with white stripes. From where you stood, the plant's name tag remained frustratingly out of sight, perched on top of the high racks. 

Letting out a frustrated groan, you stretch yourself as much as you can, reaching for the plant. Balancing on your tippy toes, you strain to touch the pot's glass edge, but it remains just out of your fingertips' reach. 

Before you can fully process the situation, a hand swiftly reaches for the same pot, snatching it away from you, “A zebra plant?”

Falling back on your heels, you turn to find Donghyuck holding the small plant in his hands, “Out of all the plants here, you want a zebra plant?” He holds it out for you to take, which you only do because you’re thrown off by his sudden appearance.

You completely ignore his question and ask him one of your own, “You again?” 

“Like I said, I do a bit of everything,” Donghyuck shrugs, “Wait, but I work here, I should be asking you that question.” 

“I’m trying to look for like two houseplants,” you say, “What’s the problem with zebra plants?” You frown at the poor plant in front of you, getting attacked for absolutely no reason.

“Nothing, there’s just way better ones than it,” Donghyuck snickers. 

You frown, “Well, since you seem to know more about plants than me, can you help me?” You turn to place the plant back. But when Donghyuck notices this, he quickly takes it out of your hands and places it back onto its spot. 

“Of course, of course,” he smiles. And just like a few days before, he starts leading you down the garden centre, eyeing the plants, “Well, what sort of plant are you looking for?”

You explain everything to him, “But I think I prefer smaller plants since my place has limited space.” 

He hums and files through his limited knowledge of plants, “I actually don’t know.”

“I thought you knew things about plants!” Your blink at him, mouth agape, “Why did you even ask me what I was looking for if you didn’t know what I was even talking about?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “I do but because of the tags.” He reaches over and plucks out the name tags you’ve been using to do research on. Then he flips it around revealing a bulleted list of the plant’s features, “I was going to help you look for one.” 

How the hell did you not see the list in the first place?

“What the fuck,” you say, “That’s been there this whole time?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t been using these to pick the plants out!?” Donghyuck sucks his teeth and shakes his head as if he was disappointed in you. 

You defend yourself, huffing, “To be fair they’re not as visible as they should be.”

Donghyuck hums, “The more you know. How ‘bout I start over there and you continue from where I found you and we meet in the middle?”

You nod, “Sounds good to me.”

The two of you take about half an hour looking for plants, taking the job more seriously than it actually was. You could already predict that one out of the two plants may possibly be dead in two weeks, but it’s the thought that counts. 

“Okay,” Donghyuck approaches you with a plant in hand. Its leaves spill out of the pot, connected to the long, growing stems, “I think this one would be pretty. It’s one of those plants you can hang from the ceilings and it matches what you’re looking for.” 

You take the plant from him and hold it up, taking in its appearance, “I actually like it. I’ll take this one.” 

He nods and takes it back, “Did you find one?” 

You nod, too, showing him the plant you had chosen but sat on a nearby platform, “It looks like an average plant but it should do. Thanks for the help by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” Donghyuck shrugs, “This is the most boring position yet.”

The two of you start walking toward the entrance back into the actual store, passing by other customers, “Really? How many other positions have you worked?”

“This and the one from the other day,” Donghyuck snorts.

You’re genuinely surprised with how well you and Donghyuck can converse despite only meeting once before this. But you like to think it’s a skill you picked up from speaking to the other workers, “You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not,” he shakes his head, “Boring-est so far.” 

Once you two reach the entrance, he halts, “I’ll see you around?” Donghyuck realizes he’s still holding one of your plants and he gingerly hands it over to you. 

“You know it.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Karina’s grip around your wrist is so tight that you feel the circulation failing to reach your fingertips. She’s dragging you down the sidewalk, walking at pace way too fast from your usual, “I promise you I’ll be quick. You can just sit at those benches at the front if you want.”

You groan, taking into account the fact that Karina’s begged one too many times to go to the grocery store with her, “Fine. But if you take longer than ten minutes, I’m leaving.” You can’t say no to your best friend completely, not when you know that her time of month’s coming up and she needs to stock up for her cravings and toiletries. 

“Wait, no! I need you to help me carry stuff,” Karina pouts. You both reach the front entrance and now she’s stopped, not ready to go in until she’s satisfied with a plan. 

You sigh, but in a loving way, almost as if you were a mom giving in to her kid’s wants, “Fine. I’ll wait for you.”

She lights up and claps, “Great! Okay you can sit and just wait until I’m about to go for cash.”

You nod, watching her jog in and leaving you to dawdle in not long after. 

“Hello! Good afternoon!”

It was almost a jumpscare hearing that voice, not expecting it to be the first thing you would encounter walking in. Usually the greeter was an older man who was working part-time despite retiring from his old job, but today, it was the very same boy you’ve run into during your two previous visits.

“A greeter?” You snort. 

Donghyuck puts his arms up in defense, “I told you I did everything.”

“Yeah but I didn’t think greeter would be part of that list.” Suddenly, you forget about your desire to sit at the metal bench by the bathrooms.

“Me neither, but here I am,” he shrugs, “What are you doing here?” The question was odd because it’s one you wouldn’t normally ask customers at a supermarket, but Donghyuck thinks it’s perfectly okay to ask you the question because it was your third time that week going to the store.

“My roommate needs things,” you say simply, “Is this position better than the plants?”

“I get to stand here and do basically nothing,” Donghyuck nods, eyes widening, “I get why Mr. June likes it.” 

“Where is he anyway?” You question.

Shrugging, Donghyuck leans against the high counter he was standing behind, “Personal day or something? I’m not too sure.” 

You hum, “Well at least he’s getting the break he needs.”

There’s a brief silence before Donghyuck gasps, brows escalating to the top of his forehead, “I just remembered!”

“Remembered what?” You don’t recall anything that you and Donghyuck have spoken about. 

“This is… weird? But I’ve never asked you for your name,” Donghyuck points out. It’s just now that you realized that he actually hasn’t asked for your name. You both just started speaking to each other as if you knew each other, so introducing yourself never even crossed your mind, “I mean… I think you know mine because of my name tag, but I don’t know yours.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What if this is some ploy for you to stalk me?” You playfully take a step back and eye him down, “And what if your name isn’t really Donghyuck?”

“I’m not gonna stalk you,” Donghyuck he whines, “And my name really is Donghyuck! You can ask my grandma!”

You let out a laugh and sigh, “I know, I was joking. My name’s Y/N.” 

Before Donghyuck can process everything, he gasps, “Are you the Y/N grandma talks about?” He brings his hand up to his head and runs his hand through his hair, “The Y/N that had to bake for practically an entire village of people?”

“So your Grandma is Mrs. Lee?” You don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that your heart warms up at the fact that Donghyuck was related to Mrs. Lee, who was probably the sweetest lady you’ve ever met. 

You think it was good because Donghyuck seemed to be close to his grandma, enough for her to get him a job and enough for him to know stories from work—it could really reflect the kind of person Donghyuck was. But now, thinking it through, it could be bad because there was no way you were developing a small crush on a boy you’ve only met twice before today. 

“That’s her,” He nods and allows for a child-like smile to surface on his face, “She’s the best right?”

You almost let out an audible ‘aww’ because of the way you can tell that he was probably a grandma’s boy. You nod, “She is. I should’ve put two and two together.”

His head tilts to the side, “What do you mean?”

“When she’s on cash, she talks about her grandson being a ray of sunshine,” you say. For some reason you suddenly feel shy as you speak to Donghyuck, “She says ‘I just know Hyuckie is going to be such a great man one day!’ I don’t know why it didn’t click that Hyuckie comes from Donghyuck.” 

Donghyuck blushes at the nickname, attempting to use his bangs to hide, “So she talks about me too?” You nod. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“She hasn’t said anything super embarrassing,” you tease, “The worst one was probably how you were in a rush to get home after an exam just to play video games and you cried cause you broke you broke your pinky. I found it funny but it wasn’t too bad.” 

Donghyuck’s jaw drops in the slightest, “She told you about that?” 

You nod and giggle, “Can I see your pinky?”

“Sorry I don’t usually show it on first dates,” Donghyuck peeks at you at the corner of his eyes and smirks. 

You facepalm, “That sounds so wrong.” You want to laugh but you hold it back, not wanting to give Donghyuck the satisfaction.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you doing your job?” From your right, the voice of Mrs. Lee calls out to her grandson, a delightful blend of playfulness and a touch of seriousness. 

Following the direction, you greet Mrs. Lee with a bow, waving at her before turning back to Donghyuck with hands to your hips, “Yeah, Donghyuck, are you doing your job?”

“Y/N’s distracting me!” He responds in a childlike manner, and Mrs. Lee simply shakes her head in response, a faint smile gracing her lips. As she turns away, you spot Karina waddling down from a cash register with four bags filled to the brim with different things. 

“Y/N!” She calls. She uses her head to gesture to the bags. By this time, she’s standing by the exit, setting two bags down at her feet for you to carry. 

“I have to go,” you say to Donghyuck, “I’ll probably see you the next time I come here, right?”

He nods, “It’s likely.”

“Well, see you Donghyuck!” you turn and wave, “Or should I say, Hyuckie.”

Rolling his eyes, he waves back before quickly flipping you off, but instead of his middle finger, it’s his pinky. You respond with a good-natured shake of your head, gathering the bags in front of you. With a nod to Karina, the two of you make your way out, leaving the lighthearted scene behind. 

“Bye, Y/N.” 

It’s good to finally have a name to your face.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

True to Karina’s suspicions, her period started the day after her cravings. 

And when Karina gets her period, she gets sick. And when she gets sick, you take this as your cue to go to the grocery store to gather ingredients for the special stomach-hugging soup your mom taught you to cook growing up. It was something that you both looked forward to every month despite Karina not being at her best condition.

The produce today wasn’t up to par as it usually was. All were stacked rather messily, making it difficult for you to filter through the veggies. You’re only surprised because in the amount of times you’ve gone to the supermarket, there has not been one day that it organized this poorly. 

“This is like your… fourth time in the last ten days or something?” The voice sounds from behind you, “Just tell me you miss me and go.” 

You turn to see Donghyuck with a cart of banana-filled boxes and it all suddenly makes sense to you, “Why would I miss you?” You turn your attention back to the bok choy sitting to your right and rummage through the pre-filled bags.

“It happens more than you think,” he shrugs, “Reason this time?”

You find a bag that seems pretty good and you plop it into your basket, “My roommate’s sick so I’m making her soup.” 

“Mmm,” Donghyuck hums, “The weather lately has been making me crave hot pot, so soup sounds so good right now.”

“Now you’re making me crave it,” You feel your mouth water at the thought of hot pot on this cool, rainy afternoon and sigh, “But I think my soup’s better than hot pot. Any. Day.”

He scoffs, “I don’t believe you. Nothing can beat hot pot nowadays. Not even kimchi jjigae.” Donghyuck pushes and pulls at the banana cart as if it were a baby in a stroller, “Thank you.”

Your brows furrow, “For what?”

“Now I know what I’m eating for dinner later.” His grin forms a taut line, “Hot pot.” 

You begin making your way to the potatoes, grabbing those thin plastic bags on the way. To your surprise, Donghyuck follows you. You look at him, “Are you sure you aren’t the one who misses me?” “You wish,” he laughs, “I just need to stand still just for one minute at least. Produce clerk has to be the worst. But I do like talking to you.” Donghyuck shifts back and forth on his feet, “Anyway, what is this soup you’re making?” “See you do miss me!” You pick out three decently-sized potatoes and gently drop them into your bag, “It’s a family recipe and it doesn’t really have a name to it. We just call it stomach-hugging soup.”

“There’s a clear difference between me missing you and me liking talking to you,” Donghyuck grumbles, “We barely know each other but it’s just so easy talking to you. That’s why.” The way he nonchalantly says this takes you aback but you try to play it off, this time moving on to some nearby taro roots. 

“Whatever you say, Hyuckie,” you retort. Though he was right. It’s never been this easy for you to talk to someone, better yet, a boy. 

“Hey! That nickname is reserved for special people only!” 

“I’m a special person, aren’t I?” you joke, but quickly wave it off, “Don’t worry, I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to.” 

Repeating your steps from both the bok choy and the potatoes, Donghyuck watches you quietly with a smile that’s so gentle that it would lull a newborn to sleep. You don’t notice this, though, because your mind is distracted by how ungodly big the taro roots are.

“I need to… get back to stacking these bananas but,” Donghycuk gulps, “It would be cool if I could taste this special soup one day.”

You turn to him, and smile, eyes bright at the idea, “Of course. One day.”

He waves and saunters down toward the front of the produce section.

Once he’s gone, you try to make sense as to what Donghyuck was trying to imply. Friends outside of this weird new relationship you both have? Something more than that? You’re not too sure of anything and there was no way you were jumping to conclusions.

Before your thoughts start to eat at you, you shake your head to rid of them all, and along with it, the idea of the small lingering crush (that’s truly starting to develop) on this boy.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It isn’t until one week later that you return to the supermarket. The reason this time was that you and Karina were truly out of groceries for once (which honestly was not surprising). 

It would be a terrible lie if you said you hadn’t thought of Donghyuck at least once within the last week, wondering how he was doing while constantly being put into different positions at work. You hoped that he wasn’t put onto the floor as a produce clerk like he had been the last time you saw him, both for his sake and for the sake of the store. 

It was late at night when you finally found the time to visit the store, much later than your usual trips. By this hour, the store had bid farewell to the bustling moms and their screaming children, leaving only adults who had dropped by after school or work, much like yourself.

It would also be a terrible lie if you said you weren’t wondering if Donghyuck was here today. 

You grab a rolling basket on the way in, greeting Mr. June when you pass him at the front. You go down the store aisle by aisle while grabbing everything you’ve listed down in your mental list. Occasionally, you brought your phone out to look if you’ve missed any of Karina needed, a screenshot of her text appearing last in your photos. 

You spend an hour or two going through the list, part of which was you comparing two different products to see which one would help you save money. 

Your third terrible lie of the night would be if you said you weren’t jerking your head toward any other person who entered the aisle hoping it would be Donghyuck. 

It was so stupid because this very boy only found out what your name was not too long ago. You’ve only met this boy four other times. And you barely knew anything about him except for the small tidbits you picked up through conversations with him or with Mrs. Lee. 

And this leads you to your fourth (and hopefully, last) terrible lie of the night—that you weren’t disappointed when you didn’t run into Donghyuck during your time at the store. 

You sigh as you load your things onto the conveyor belt, sorting them with pairs or other like things so it would be easier for you to carry everything. In your head, you’re already planning out how you were supposed to carry everything on your own. You’ve done it before, so you can (while harnessing the power of the universe) do it again. 

“This is a lot of stuff.”

You freeze at the voice and you finally look up, finding that Donghyuck was, in fact, your cashier. 

He immediately reads the shock in your facial expression and snorts, “Everything, remember? How’s your night doing?” Donghyuck starts scanning your items, sliding them from one side to the other.

You shrug, “Tiring… Do your shifts usually go ‘til this hour?” 

Donghyuck shakes his head, “Not typically, but I’m filling in for someone today. One of the other employees got sick so I stepped up like the good person I am.” He flashes a proud expression, and you can't help but chuckle at his confidence, “Anyways, where do you live?”

“What?” you laugh nervously, “I swear you suck at hiding your intentions of stalking me.” 

Donghyuck quickly takes back his question, realizing that he worded it all wrong and it being taken out of context was not good look at all. “No no! It’s not that, but…” How can he put this in a non-stalkery way? “My shift is almost done… you have a lot of things to carry… I would like to walk you home?” He cringes at the way it comes out as a question but it’s too late now. 

“Okay, if you’re not going to stalk me,” you think, “What if you kidnap me?”

"I promise, no kidnapping plans here," Donghyuck replies with a playful grin. "I'm a certified good guy, I swear!" Unbeknownst to you, he intentionally slows down his scanning, making sure that he has more time to chat with you (just in case you didn’t agree to his proposal). It's been a week since he last saw you, and this supermarket seems to be the only place where you both get a chance to talk. Besides, there was no one else in line.

There’s this very feeling in your chest that’s practically yelling at you to trust him, so you do, “It’s about two blocks down. It’s not too far, it’s a good eight minute walk.”

“I’ll meet you at the front then?” 

Not even ten minutes later, Donghyuck meets you right where he suggested. He isn’t wearing the vest the employees wore as uniforms. Instead, he’s thrown on a dark hoodie. He picks up your bags, “Let me take those for you~” 

“Didn’t see you coming,” you say, “I can carry one, you know.” You can't deny feeling a hint of nervousness. This marked the first time you were going to interact with Donghyuck beyond the supermarket setting. It's hard not to wonder if your dynamic is shifting from a mere employee-customer relationship to something more meaningful—even if it was just a friendship.

“It’s okay, I insist,” Donghyuck smiles, “Let’s go! Lead the way.”

You stand up and you lead him out the door. You begin taking your route home and Donghyuck quickens his steps to keep up with you, “So, what you’ve been up to the past week?”

A pleasant breeze blows past you both and you turn your head to reply to him just as you’re stopped at a red light, “I’ve just been busy with school and some other responsibilities. I only found time to go to the store after school today.”

“Ah, your load must be heavier than mine,” Donghyuck makes a sound of recognition, “I only have morning classes and then I’m free for the day.” 

“You’re lucky,” you laugh, “Mine usually runs the whole day because my faculty’s suckass at scheduling… but it is what it is, I guess.”

The light switches and you’re both allowed to cross. There are only a few cars waiting to go, which emphasizes how late in the night it actually is. “Well at least you’re holding up,” Donghyuck grins, “You still have time for cooking and what not.”

You nod, “That’s true, you’re right.” 

The conversation between you two unfolds with familiar ease, similar to your convos at the supermarket. Donghyuck brings up Mrs. Lee, questioning about how you came to know his grandmother. You share your story with him, detailing the moments and conversations that led to your connection.

“Are you close with your grandma?” You ask out of curiosity.

“She practically raised me because my parents were mostly out at work,” Donghyuck explains, “Now that she’s a little bit older, I still go over to her place and help around the house. She’s at retirement age, but she likes being busy. So I let her be busy at work and tell her to relax when she’s at home.”

Your heart swells at Donghyuck’s relationship with Mrs. Lee and a slight surge of emotion wells up within you. It really wasn’t helping with the crush you were trying to conceal, not when Donghyuck seemed like a genuinely great guy. 

“I think that’s really sweet of you.” You feel the corners of your mouth rise to your cheekbones, “I bet she appreciates it. She seems to really love you, so there’s no doubt that she does.” 

You finally reach your place and Donghyuck realizes this when you slow to a halt. He can't help but feel a tinge of disappointment that your place isn't farther from the store. Nevertheless, he holds onto the hope that he'll have more opportunities to walk you home in the future. 

You retrieve your bags from his hands and you don’t notice the way his breath hitches at your proximity. “Thanks for walking me home and carrying my bags. Are you fine getting home?” 

Donghyuck nods, “I actually live pretty close, believe it or not, so don’t worry about me. I’ll see you around?” It seems like this was something you’ve been saying to each other a lot.

“Of course and thank you again,” you say, “Goodnight, Donghyuck.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

As you begin to turn away, Donghyuck's gaze lingers on you. Despite it not being your last encounter with him, in that moment, a sense of urgency washes over him, realizing that this might be a pivotal moment. It feels like this decision could only be made now or never.

“Wait!” He calls out. It comes out embarrassingly louder than intended. He swears he could hear his voice echo down the street. 

You pause and turn to face Donghyuck, looking back at him curiously, "Yeah?" There are so many thoughts running through your head, only you couldn’t pick them out for the life of you. 

Donghyuck starts jogging to catch up with you, his footsteps rhythmically hitting the pavement. "I... actually have a question," he says, his voice slightly breathless. "It's been on my mind for the past week."

You meet his gaze with an expectant look, raising your eyebrows and giving a nod, encouraging him to continue.

“This sounds weird but,” his palm finds the nape of his neck and he’s suddenly (extremely) nervous to even be standing in front of you, “I think I like you… and I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date some…time? It’s okay if no, but I just figured that since we get along well that it was worth try—”

“I would love to.” 

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” you retort, giggling under your breath, “I’m actually kinda relieved you made the first move.”

A rush of excitement surges through Donghyuck, and he's almost overwhelmed with the urge to jump for joy, “I’ll plan something out and let you know, if that’s okay? I didn’t think I would actually get this far.” He feels his cheeks heat up out of embarrassment.

“Take your time,” you snort, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Okay! I promise you I will not disappoint!” he exclaims, “Goodnight, Y/N. For real this time.” 

You offer a wordless response, shuffling closer to Donghyuck before rising onto your toes to plant a gentle peck on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Donghyuck.”

(And you best know Donghyuck went home that night skipping, excited to tell his grandma everything the next day.) 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Thank you for reading! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ Pls support my fic by liking/rbing (whatever you're most comfortable with!)

#haechan #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #lee donghyuck #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #my nct writings #my writings #nct imagines #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct donghyuck #nct haechan #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck scenarios #Kpop imagines #Kpop scenarios #Donghyuck #Lee haechan #Nct 127 imagines #Nct dream x reader

[wthtorke]

Feral

Feral predator x Afab reader NSFW - Warning for kidnapping

You've been warned! This one is nasty lmao also has 4k words so be prepared, and enjoy! As always this was seen over a month and something ago on my patre0n! 

Hunting runs in the veins of his people. From the youngest child to the wisest elder, it was a rite. Tradition. Part of them.

Some warriors had their rites before a hunt. Some prayed, some others cleaned their weapons and sharpened their blades. He chooses to watch.

Hunting is about patience, he believes. So he watches them days before striking.

He sees her on his first day. A foggy morning in the dense forest they resided in now. A small village on the outskirts of a kingdom he flew over before landing; since then, he got bewitched.

The air smelled of leaves, the occasional local fauna scent hitting him as the thick smell of humans below made it almost too annoying to breathe without his mask.  He wasn't hunting- yet.

He stretched over the thick tree branch supporting his weight, looking intently at the artificial shelter he knew belonged to her. Man-made.

To say he was interested was an understatement. He was intrigued, rather obsessively, even. What he feels in his sheath isn't the thrill of the hunt but the desire for a partner. A mate, It's odd.

He feels his cock throb, pressing against his crotch armor, yearning to be free and inside of something right after, to be inside of her.

He had heard of it before from older, wiser warriors. "Your cock is stupid. Sometimes it will mistake prey for a mate, don't listen to it." He had scoffed, just a youngblood then, "So what to do if that happens?"

"Kill it."

She seems to hear his thoughts, or feel the ghost of them, for she looks straight up at the tree he had been resting on, now watching her from another angle- Lower, closer. She seemed to be a servant of some sort, always carrying a basket of food, feeding the stock, or hauling buckets of clothes to the river like she was now, crouched on the side of it. She forgot the scrubbing as she looked around, looking for him.

She hadn’t seen him yet. None of them had. He hadn’t killed anything yet, nothing that didn’t deserve it, but he found that he liked watching her. All of her species was weak; her included; a frail little thing was washing her strange clothes on the riverbank, day after day, with no greater ambitions for the future than to get her daily chores done and maybe get some rest.

He slowly stalked across the grass, staring at her from the other side of the river. His camouflage made him feel beyond lucky in situations like these; most warriors used it for sneaking surprise attacks, others used it to flee- he used it to watch. He could taste her scent on his tongue, taken by the curving winds into his mouth beneath his mask. It was a hot day like yesterday was, but he’d still have to catch her swimming in the river as she did days ago. He had wondered if she could smell him like he did her. Maybe he just alarmed her prey instinct, watching her lifted head, eyes still scanning for the source of her uneasiness.

He felt his chest rumble, claws gripping the tree bark under his fingers; she might not smell him like the deer or the bears do, but she knew something was wrong. She knows she's not alone, and he can't help but feel his hunter's instincts kicking in.

She doesn't have a mate, not that he can tell- but then again, humans here were strange. Some tribes were more advanced than others; some had shelters made of hide and fabric while others had them made of stone and wood. He found them all to have some hidden savagery in them —especially the wood and stone humans.

She was a wood and stone human, but another thing he noticed about them was the way they looked at one another. Humans and yautja held their differences regarding facial expressions, but every sentient species he knew had a universal "I don't trust you," look. She didn't trust any of them. Especially the males.

He thought about his options as a hunter, and then he thought of his options as a male whose -possible- mate felt distressed around their people.

What to do?

He checks back to reality when another scent hits his nose, muskier, filthy—a male. Feral watches him make his way to her, smaller than him by two of their human heads. He doesn't like it, so he slowly stalks forward, crouched and cloaked to see their interaction.

Human words are odd, he can't make out many of them, and his translator was always shit, but he wasn't an idiot- he could read tones. Every species sounded about the same when pissed the fuck off.

"I've told you time and time again, Gale, I'm not interested." She snaps, scrubbing her clothes harder onto the rocks.

"What in God's name is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I even want to marry you? You should be licking my boots for this." The male hisses. She shakes her head.

He grabs her. She screams.

So he grabs him.

It takes less effort to kill an adult man than it does to skin a snake. His blades slice through him, and his screaming stops– hers do not.

So he grabs her.

He slings the woman over his shoulder as he hears barking in the distance and the faded shouting of other males making their way to the river. He scoffs and runs off.

You keep screaming when the demon carrying you jumps up a tree to another, then another, and another; endlessly, far away from your village. Where to? You had no idea. Your futile attempts at punching its stiff back turned into desperate clinging when he landed straight into the river again, splashing water everywhere and soaking your dress as it scents the air before running up the river with you over his shoulder.

You commend your brain for whatever half-thoughts it could muster while the beast ran away with you. What was it? A demon? An animal never seen before? A creature? It had to be a demon, didn't it? Animals didn't run standing, and they definitely didn't throw people over their shoulders while running.

Its hide was thick and textured. You felt its ridges and needle-like protrusions under your fingers, not enough to cut skin but enough to tickle your palms, its tips pressing against the skin bluntly.

"Please- please put me down!" You pleaded, trying to look back at the thing's head; did it have no ears?

It growled and snarled, shaking you some before speeding up again- as if telling you to keep quiet, so you did.

After an hour, the demon diverges from the river, turning and entering the dense forest. You dozed in and out as it carried you around, getting shaken awake when it stopped by nightfall, dropping you on the patchy floor. Your body screams as you sit up, looking around in the dark, looking for it.

You whip your head around, squinting your eyes and trying to calm your breath; the moonlight is scarce through the trees. You sniffle and wipe your face as you try to listen for any sounds- the ringing in your ears makes it hard to discern any noises.

A twig snaps, and you jump. Your dress drags, wet and heavy, against the grassy patch you're sitting on, "Please- please don't hurt me-," you choked on your words when a twig snapping made you jump a second time. You look back as heavy steps begin walking towards you before the big hands from before are on you again. The clawed fingers close around your arms and move you around as you thrash and squirm in their grasp to no effect.

"Unhand me-! Stop-," you hiss as it drags you onto another grassier spot and sits you down like a toddler, pushing you down two times as if to say stay.

It growls and walks about. You can hear it now; twigs were snapping, huffing, and snarling. You listen to things get thrown around. The sound is like-

"Wood? What are you trying to-,"

A weird sound reaches your ears, like metal scraping against metal; shrill, thin, and prickly like a new needle. You shake your head at it, only opening your eyes when something bright- when immediate warmth reaches your cold, wet frame.

Fire.

“Oh my God!” You gasp in surprise, seeing the structured twigs as you scoot closer to the fire, bringing your stiff fingers closer to the flames, shaking as you did your best to chase the shivers away from your bones. Still- you weren’t alone.

You look around, fire briefly forgotten as you struggle to locate the creature that kidnapped you from the river. It saved you, yes- but what for?

“If you plan to cook me, that fire won’t do!” You blurt out. The panic forces nonsensical words out of your mouth. You shake your head, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. You cry out loud when the creature comes forth again, only that the fire made him very visible now.

You crawl backward as your lungs burn with every desperate attempt at sucking air. Its skin was not like anything you’d seen before. It wore no clothing other than some kind of leathery loincloth that hung around its hips. Your eyes ran up its form, taking in its muscles- no man you had ever known had muscles like that. No man you knew could kill another like it did, too.

Rapid breathing makes your chest hurt. Your heart is speeding when you meet its face.

Bone.

Its face was of pure bone.

It snarled and snapped, making you cry louder and recoil, pulling your knees to your chest and hiding your face so you wouldn’t face imminent death. You cry harder, feeling your shoulders wack with every desperate sob that leaves you when you hear more cracking in front of you.

You feel its breathing on your skin. The clicking and raspy sounds make you shiver but still, no contact. Why wasn’t it doing anything? You wanted to look, to face your fears. But it was easier said than done.

Feral snorts on the thick fear stench that rolled off you in waves. He shook his head as his open palm hovers over your head, claws spread and ready to close around your form again. He felt annoyed. He didn’t know your language but being so different from you, it was apparent you thought he was some sort of monster. Not far from the truth, but still not it.

He huffs and snarls, trying to catch your scent under all the panic and fear you presented so strongly now. That one trail that made him feel the way he did at the river. The way you’ve been making him feel since he laid eyes on you.

Stupid, he was stupid.

Of course, you would fear him. Of course, you would want to be as far away from him as you could. But there was no way to explain. No way to communicate. Would you even listen to him if he could? Maybe he could try.

Yanking you off the floor like a twig by your arms, Feral steps closer to the fire again, sitting by it as he slowly lowers your struggling form to the floor again. You act like a restless toddler to him, trying to get away from his grasp and run off into the forest.

Luckily for him, he has many young siblings.

Every time you get up, he pulls you back down, forcing you to sit multiple times until you tire out. He can’t hold back his laughter when you land yet again on your ass in front of him.

“What do you want?!” You hiss at him, face hot from the strain, feeling anger boiling over the fear.

It’s easy enough to guess what you’re asking him. So he lifts his finger, points at you, and tensely points it to the floor, growling to make a point.

“What is the point of dying sitting? I’m not making your job easier!” You frown and tense your legs to get up. The speed with which he draws a blade from his thigh and sinks it into the ground next to your leg has you melting back onto the floor.

‘Good.’ He thinks. ‘We’re leaning.’

“O-Okay- I’m sitting now.” You say. His jaw twitches slightly. “Si-tting! I’m sitting! See? Sitting! Sit!” You point at yourself and then at the floor, just like he wanted. “What now?”

Feral snorts again. The stench is still strong. He sheathes his knife again, turning back to look at you. You make him feel things, and he wants to make you feel things in return, but not while you’re so afraid and angry at him.

He places his palms on the floor and leans forward toward you. You try to shy away, and he growls again, lowering to a low hiss when you stop moving.

It was like the hounds back at the village. You spoke to the kennel master a couple of times while helping him deliver puppies into this world. “You have to respect animals.” He said, “They have their own language, learning it means survival to both of you. That usually means find out whatever makes it stop growling and keep doing it until it trusts you.”

So you keep still, chest heaving as the demon gets closer and closer to your face. It didn’t seem to have eyes, but it knew of your every move. How could it be? How could it see anything?

Its bone cheek grazes against yours, its thick neck hovers over your own body. It felt hot, so very hot. Almost as hot as the fire to your side. You could feel its growling in your core, intense, rattling.

You don’t see it move its hand from the ground until it almost touches your other cheek. You close your eyes, gasping a bit. Nothing comes. You feel your tightly shut eyes sting with tears again, and your chest tightens with upcoming sobs before another strange noise reaches your ear.

It's a sound you know well. A sound that made you happy when you were a child, whenever it was your turn to feed the cats milk, a reward for their hard work keeping the mice away from the grains and seeds the village had harvested.

Purring.

Heavy, deep purring.

Your eyes snap open, and your hand shoots up on reflex against its chest, trying to push it back. But it doesn’t move. Nor its body or its hand, still lingering close to your face. Your hand trembles with the vibrations coming from its chest. It goes up your arm and makes your heart skip more beats. You blink, confused. Your cats never purred to people they didn’t like. Was this a trick?

“What-?” You croak, voice raw and raspy from crying and screaming. The tears dry on your eyes, not yet shed as its hand finally comes in contact with your dirty face. You jump a bit when its purring slows down, dragging out more as its clawed thumb slowly strokes your face.

You feel petrified as your fingers curl a bit on its chest, feeling the texturized hide under your palm. Your other arm hurts from supporting your weight when you tried leaning away from it. The strain burns your muscles as you wince a bit, still afraid to move. But not as much as before, scarily enough.

Feral breathes in your scent, letting his other hand snake behind your back, slowly wrapping around your waist to relieve your arm. An excuse to bring you closer to him. You notice the change and shift against him. Not away, but against him. A win, in his book.

He keeps stroking your face, feeling the plush cheek under the pad of his thumb as he slowly drags you closer to him. Feral can feel that scent again, only ever starting to break through the foggy fearful one from before. He rubs his mask against your face as your chest meets his collarbone. So small, yet yielder of such a strange power over him.

“Oh…”

The smallest of noises leaves your mouth. The first one not touched by dread ever since you’ve met. It sends a shiver down his belly, straight to his sheath.  Feral lets the hand on your back slide up and into your hair as he buries his face in it, reveling in the way your chests touched, reveling in how relaxed you were in his hands now.

You couldn’t say what made you let out that breathy sigh for the life of you. Everything felt too real and not real at all. No man had ever touched you like this. No man had ever treated you so…gently. Gentleness this coming from the beast who mauled a man to shreds not hours ago.

Still, it did not matter. Nothing mattered. You let your free arm come up, and touch its shoulder, resting your palm on another patch of prickly skin as he kept sniffing into your hair. It was still sitting as your knees stood just before the ground as it held you in its arms, reminding you again of just how big and dangerous it was.

You sigh and close your eyes for a second, feeling its hot breath against your hair as its hand moves from your cheek to caress your ear, making your hairs stand on end once more. For a different reason this time. Your hand grips its shoulder tighter as its face comes closer to your neck. Maybe this was the end. Maybe it finally tired from toying with you. You can’t bring yourself to be afraid again.

Feral lets his tusks touch your throat before he lowers his jaw and lets his tongue drag against your skin, making you arch your back, pushing your chest against his again. “A-Ahhh…” He chuckles at the noise, his huffing cutting through his purring before it evens out again, deep and constant as before. If not heavier with lust.

You pant, opening your eyes again as you feel the hot tongue swiping against your throat over and over again. Your body felt hot, not from the fire or Its body heat, but from your own desire. Desire. For a demon. Your heart beats faster as you realize what you’re truly feeling in his arms. And just how tight you had been pressing your legs together. You breathe in deeper, heavier, as his tongue moves down to your collarbone.

He supported your body by letting his hand close around your neck, holding you up against him as he licked the skin between your breasts over the fabric of your bodice. You moan, feeling your face burn in embarrassment from everything. But it was not like you. Maybe it had no idea you were embarrassed.

The moan sends another shiver down Feral’s spine and another spike down his sheath. He wanted to breed. Badly. But most importantly, he wanted to breed you.

Feral pulls back long enough to let his claws hook around the bodice’s fabric, slowly pulling it down, baring you to him. You panted and closed your eyes. The hand on his shoulder tightened even more, but he couldn’t smell fear. Shyness wasn’t a thing among his people; there was no use for it. But he couldn’t say he didn’t find it oddly endearing.

The fabric catches under your breasts as the sleeves strain against your shoulders, leaving your chest exposed to the night air. To his tongue. He breathes heavily as he looks them over. Most of the females he knew were flat-chested. Their breasts only swelled when they were with child. But you had no child now. Was this normal of your kind? What would you look like when…?

Another shiver. His cock strains against his sheath, ready to breach it.

He growls and lowers his face to your chest again, feeling the softness with his tusks, letting his tongue drag over the nipple he chose to lick. Your gasps and foreign words urge him on, bringing his other hand to feel the other breast as he purrs louder than ever. You smelled good, tasted good, and felt good. How could he deny this? He brought your hips closer to his torso as he switched breasts with his tongue, making you arch against him again. Only some more layers of fabric separated him from you. He shivers again. His sheath opens.

Feral groans as he lowers you to the ground, positioning himself between your legs. Between the rumple of the fabric of your dress’s skirt. You pant as he plans his next move, lifting your skirts over to your belly, and exposing your legs along with your chest.

You clutch the fabric nervously as you try to regain your breath. You knew how things worked between a man and a woman. But this was no man, and you surely never heard of one so big as this for comparison. It fumbles with its crotch cloth before turning back to you.

His cock stood fully hard before you, slick and as big as you thought it’d be, if not more. Your eyes widen, and your cunt tightens around nothing. You let out a breathless sigh as he moves closer to you, hooking his hands under your legs and pulling you to him. His cock was reddish like the center of his chest, ridged and bumpy like his skin. It’s your turn to shiver, and he purrs for you.

The head of his cock slides against your slit, and you gasp, choking on a moan as he nudges your clit before coming back down and repeating the motion. Your slick mingles with his as he presses his head against your hole. It’s tight, unforgivingly tight. It’s going to hurt.

Your entrance is breached, and you’re frowning hard already, feeling the thick, swollen head of his cock pulsating inside your cunt. The corners of your vision go white as you pant in strain, lust, and anxiety at what's to come.

He pauses and reaches for his back, his free hand stroking your thigh as he produces one of his weapons from his back. Some kind of spear.

Feral’s hand leaves your thigh to aid him in pulling it apart, making it a two-piece. He lays the blade part on the ground and keeps the end part to himself. He purrs heavily again as he lowers the pommel to your cunt, resting it over the small nub that made you react so hard before. He reaches for his wrist gauntlet and presses two buttons, causing it to vibrate.

You yell out in surprise and pleasure as he presses the vibrating pommel to your clit, leaning over you as you moan and squirm under the best sensation you’ve ever felt in your life. A sudden rush flows through your body as your pussy spasms around his cock. You groan as he presses more of his cock into your cunt, slacking on the floor as he lifts the pommel from you again, stopping his movements halfway through once more. He strokes your thigh, and you crane your neck to look up at him, “Please- please do that again. Please.”  You beg, pointing at his spear’s end.

He understands. And lowers the pommel onto you once more. “Please-” you pant, moaning as he shifts closer to you, pressing the same spots on his strange wrist armor. You rest your hand over his on the spear, panting harder before that sensation kicked in again full force. It shook you to your core, rattling you from the inside out in the best way possible. “In me-, in me-” you beg in between moans, grabbing his thigh under yours with your other hand, trying to pull it closer to you. Feral snarls and closes his free hand around your hip, thrusting his cock the rest of the way in. You shouted again as that same rush crashed over you again, making you tighten around the massive cock deep into you.

Feral roars and bucks his hips, small spurts of precome getting squeezed out of him by your pussy. “Please- please- please fuck me, please-” He recognized the word as he pulled his cock back and thrusted back in fully, tossing the spear end to the side as he focuses on you again. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he sets a bruising pace, hands tightly gripping your hips as he roars and snarls.

You panted and gasped as your dress dragged roughly against the forest floor as he fucked you hard, the loud noises of your mating enough to make you close your eyes in embarrassment once more. No one could hear you here, only him. All of your moans and screams were for him and only him, as his growling and purring were yours, and yours only.

“I’m going to- I-” You shudder as you feel that rush coming through you again, in a slightly different way this time, but no less pleasurable than before as you grab his arms, coming onto his cock for the third time. Feral roars and slams his cock as deep as he could, filling you up to the brim with thick come. It drips from your cunt and onto your skirt’s fabric, torn and dirty after everything you went through this day alone.

Feral doubles over and rests his head on the ground next to yours supporting himself with one of his hands. He purrs and nuzzles into your hair again as you struggle to regain your breath once more. He licks your cheek, and you smile, wincing briefly when he pulls away from you, laying down on the grassy patch before pulling you close to him. You cover your chest again and lower your skirts before snuggling up to him.

You hug his middle as he wraps his arms around your form, feeling his chest pick up its purring as your eyes grow heavier by the second. Feral watches you slack against him, out like a light. He strokes your hair and rests his jaw on top of your head. He scoffs as he drifts off to sleep himself.

The elders didn’t know shit.

#just gonna leave this here #dont forget to check my thing out cause man i work hard on these lmfao #hope yall like it lmao #feral predator #Headcanon #predators #predator #alien vs predator #Aliens vs predator #The Predator #yautja #Yautjas #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #yautja/human #predator/human #yautja boyfriend #afab reader #Female reader

[cyberp-1-nk]

" I'M NOT YOUR FIRST DEMON? " + Obey Me Brothers.

☆ Masterlist / Requests?

SYNOPSIS. How they'd react to not being one of the first-ever demons you've encountered/summoned.

PAIRINGS. Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader.

GENRE + WARNINGS. Some aspects of jealous behavior, but ends with fluff. Also to confirm, you never did anything with the mentioned demon, they just assume you did for some reason lmao?? Honestly, this is not my best work.

LUCIFER !

☆ He definitely hadn't expected this. When some random, insignificant demon recognizes you on the street— he merely assumes that the demon was just trying to find an excuse to talk to you. But when you confirm that you know this demon? He's irritated to find out he wasn't even your first demon. You explain that you had only summoned some random demon at a sleepover a few years back, and he's shaking his head at you. You probably need to hold him for a few moments, just to get him to stop being so grumpy about this silly situation. Before he knew it, you had wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. Lucifer froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then he felt the warmth of your body against his, and the tension in his body slowly began to dissipate. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, steady and reassuring. He could smell your sweet scent, it always calmed him down. And he could feel your breath against his neck, soft and steady. It reassured him during one of the rare times he felt petty. 

MAMMON ! 

☆ ALWAYS bragging about being your 'first,' and then finds out he's not exactly your first. Yes, he's the first demon you've started a pact with— but not the first demon you've ever commanded/summoned. So when this random demon recognizes you, and claims to know you— Mammon is immediately denying it. He's absolutely dumbfounded when you start a conversation with this stranger, and will immediately interrupt whatever you were talking about. You explain that a few years ago, you had messed around a little and summoned a demon with your friends— just for fun. He gets a little jealous, but he won't tell you that. But you still notice, so of course you comfort him. "You're my favorite demon," you said, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Mammon hesitated at first, but then melted into the embrace, resting his head on your shoulder. "Really?" he murmured, feeling his heart swell with warmth. "Really," you confirmed, rubbing circles into his back. "You're the best demon I could ever ask for. You're funny, charming, and always know how to make me smile."  Mammon felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Yeah?" he said, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

LEVITHAN ! 

☆ Probably the most petty about it— he is the avatar of envy, so it's in his nature to be jealous. It's just so unfair to him that some random normal demon got to be the first to see you all those years ago, it should have been him! You try to be rational, and explain that you had only summoned this random demon for fun— and you were never deeply involved with the single demon. For some odd reason, he automatically assumed you did something with this demon, even though you constantly assured him it was just something you had done at a sleepover thing. "You're the most important demon in my life, Leviathan." Leviathan felt his heart skip a beat at the words, but before he could respond, you were peppering his face with little kisses. You left a trail of soft, gentle kisses on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and even his lips. His face turned bright red as he felt the warmth of your lips against his skin. He had never felt so flustered and loved at the same time— it instantly made him forget about the silly situation.

SATAN ! 

☆ Literally was already irritated when some random demon walked up to you, and interrupted your date at the recently opened cat-cafe. It got even worse when the demon had brought up the fact that they remembered you from somewhere— rage quickly turned into pure confusion when you confirmed that you remembered this random demon. When you explained the funny story of you literally just summoning a demon for fun, he shakes his head at the stupidity— and is admittedly a little jealous. Just a little. Once your drinks arrived, you found a cozy spot in the corner of the cafe, where they could watch the cats play and cuddle with each other. You sipped their tea, feeling the warmth of the drink spreading through your body, and smiled at Satan as you leaned onto his shoulder. The seemingly permanent scowl started to melt away— as he pulled you closer by your waist. You loved spending time with Satan, especially in places like this where you could just relax and enjoy each other's company. 

ASMODEUS ! 

☆ Probably the most unbothered— in fact, he assumes this random demon is just a fan of his. But when he finds the demon was involved with you in the past— but only in the way that you summoned this strange demon once at a sleepover— back when you were younger. He thinks that's adorable, and will constantly bother the demon for all the details, and will even ask for pictures. He doesn't often get to hear about how your life was in the human world, so he finds it intriguing, and adorable. Asmo's eyes lit up and he leaned forward, pinching your cheek gently. "You didn't tell me you summoned a demon in your past!" Asmo exclaimed with a playful grin. Your eyes widened in embarrassment, and you felt your face flush with heat. "I-I did summon a demon once, but it was just for fun!" You stammered, trying to defend yourself. Even though you had been embarrassed at first, you realized that Asmo's teasing was just a sign of his affection for you.

BEELZEBUB !

☆ Doesn't even notice a random demon walking up to you at first. He's just inhaling down large amounts of food as per usual, so it takes him a bit to notice that you are gone. Probably doesn't notice until he turns to offer you some of his food, and you aren't there— and finds you talking to some random demon he's never seen before. Beelzebub was always quiet and reserved, but he had a keen sense of protection over you, and he watched the demon with a stoic expression as you chatted away/explained how you knew the demon. You were completely oblivious to Beelzebub's protective stare, but the demon seemed to sense it. As they were talking, the demon suddenly asked you, "Is he always like that? He's staring at me like he wants to rip me apart." "He's just being cautious," You said, smiling at Beelzebub. Beel wasn't aware of it, but he felt a little jealous of the demon— he wished he had the chance to meet you earlier. 

BELPHEGOR ! 

☆ Doesn't notice at first either. He's soundly asleep in your lap while the two of you were sitting through some boring class— before a demon casually walks up to you and starts talking to you about something that happened in your past. His soft snoring goes completely silent, while you laugh with this random demon about what happened before— and Belphie doesn't like it. He doesn't like it when you reminisce about your old life, because he thinks you'll get homesick and then leave him behind forever. He doesn't mention anything to you, but you can tell he's awake by the way he stiffens. You noticed that Belphegor seemed upset, even though he was trying to hide it. You stopped talking to the demon and ran your fingers through Belphegor's hair. Belphegor let out a small sigh as your fingers worked through his locks. He felt a sense of comfort wash over him, and he began to relax. You continued to run your fingers through Belphegor's hair, gently massaging his scalp. Belphegor felt safe and loved as you soothed him with your touch. He was grateful for your presence and the kindness you showed him.

#obey me nightbringer x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me nightbringer x reader #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #belphegor x reader #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmodeus x mc #beelzebub x mc #belphegor x mc #pls i need obey me moots #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff

[emblazons]

So (because I cannot go three seconds without noticing new little things that tell the wider story in this show):

Let’s talk about how the music that plays during the S3 Byler fight is the exact same music that plays during the S4 conversation Mike & Dustin have with Lucas as they walk to class after the pep rally—

—and how that parallel gives us insight not only into how Mike (and his devotion to Will) has evolved between seasons 3 and 4….but also how The Duffers are evolving Mike as a character in the wake of the "conflict" of forced conformity they introduced in S3.

To start: here are snippets of both scenes where “Not Kids Anymore” plays, both in Season 3 and Season 4.

Now, even though Mike is present in both scenes, it’s not entirely obvious why these things would be parallels, given the radical difference in tone. That said: when we look at these scenes in their wider contexts, we see that they are both exploring the exact same issue, only with Mike on opposite sides of the convo each time—

—namely, whether or not its worth it for Mike to embrace conformity, given that there are behaviors/roles he is meant to fill when trying to keep up with being normal/growing up...and "society" says that DnD / nerdiness (and a refusal / lack of desire to participate in performative relationships) stands entirely apart from that.

Let me see if I can explain.

First: these things are parallels because they are asking us to compare the Mikes in each situation—to notice how he took Will’s words to heart, and decided on some level that Will was right, not him. How do we know? Because in the time between these two convos (aka the rain fight and then the first few episodes of S4), we learn that Mike has made a point to address and rectify all criticisms Will had of him & his behavior during the rain fight.

As of the very first episode of S4, we are shown that Mike is 1) paying attention to both the party/DnD the way Will criticized him for not doing (to the point of calling out Lucas for not prioritizing it the way he now wants to)—

—2) he is focusing on keeping closeness with Dustin (even to the point of judging Lucas for not doing the same), because Will accused him of ignoring Dustin as readily as he ignored him—

—and 3) he has entirely stopped "swapping spit" with El (to the point of removing her from a hug at the airport, kissing her on the forehead...and then never kissing her again lmao) while letting his relationship fall apart without much of a fight…right before apologizing to Will for letting El get in the way of their time spent together in the first place.

Basically: even though he is still struggling in many ways to defend himself from being bullied/being an outcast by hiding behind his relationship with El (the same way Lucas is with “being popular” and basketball), we can see that Mike has made clear strides towards embracing the sides of him that aren’t conformist, which is reflected in all of his decision-making in Will's absence.

Though Mike is getting older and the party “aren’t kids anymore,” them paralleling these scenes is showing us that Mike, at least on some level, has realized that growing up is not at odds with embracing the things he enjoys & his various identities, whether that be through playing DnD—

—wearing clothes he chose on his own—

—or willingly choosing closeness with Will over the performance of relationships with girls (the same way Will already had in Season 3, and Dustin reflected as well).

Now...this isn't to say that he's entirely succeeded at the task, given how many times we see him fumble through actually implementing these changes/revelations in himself, whether with clothes (hello 'shitty knockoff'), embracing his actual interests, or even letting himself want to admit he wants to be with/around Will and not El—

—on top of the fact that I've already talked (many, many times) about how the journey of "feeling like you lost" the Duffers took us on had Mike ending up in a position where "conformity" temporarily wins, how that plays into his relationship with El versus Will, and why it matters for his character even outside of his queerness.

Still: I think this parallel in particular is important to understanding his character because it rules out any idea that Mike is somehow oblivious rather than intentionally working through to the changes happening in himself, whether they be in regards to him re-choosing DnD, making decisions about his clothing for himself...or wanting to be closer to Will / not participate in "liking girls," which is what he gets projection-mad at Will about during the rain fight.

tl;dr: Mike has realized on some level that he wants to be more like / closer to Will than his S3 "conformity" self—and the war we see on his face throughout the season in conversations with Will has a lot to do with that, among other things.

This musical parallel in particular draws attention to the fact that there have been changes happening within Mike that he sees and recognizes—he just "lost" like every other character this season, aka failed at walking into a more secure sense of self / out of his "conformist" relationship in its entirety...which we'll resolve in S5. :)

#byler #anti mlvn #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler core #this could have gotten SO MUCH LONGER and I know I'm gonna do a companion piece on lucas right after this but lmao I had to START SOMEWHERE #like? one day I'm just gonna have to write a fucking book on mike wheeler because I have SO MUCH TO SAY LMAO #my st commentary #st parallels #stranger things #st music analysis