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httpdwaekki · 20 days

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sleepy cramps | b.c.

summary: your cramps wake you up but channie is there to help.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: i tried to keep it gender neutral, however!! periods and cramps are mentions so read at your own risk.

a/n: omg ash knows how to post at a normal time when she's not sleep deprived *gasp* crazy right? you guys know the drill not proof read too many pet names blah blah. i have realized that i apparently need alot of comfort in my life because that is all i write LMAO. anyway! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

p.s. pls send me some requests i really wanna try and branch out but i have no ideas, okay love u bye. <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

“baby?” you hear a familiar aussie voice call out. “i’m home!” you hear him take off his shoes and set his bag down. “baby?” he yells once more, keys jingling as he places them on a hook by the door.

you let out a grunt, hoping to signal to him where you were. you were currently bundled up half asleep in your shared bed, facing the door. you were exhausted from the day and your period, and barely keeping your eyes open.

the hall light flicks on before a figure appears in the doorway. you lift up your head a bit, giving him a sleepy smile before settling back into your warm cocoon of soft blankets and plushies.

he smiles before making his way to the side of bed, squatting down to eye level with you. he lifts his hand, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “hi pretty.” your cheeks warm.

“hi bub.” you mumble. “you sleepy bug?” he asks softly. you nod, a yawn escaping you as if emphasizing your drowsiness.

he smiles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “alright bub, give me 10 minutes to get ready for bed then i’ll come lay down okay?” you nod once more, sleepy smile still present on your face.

he moves, placing a kiss on your lips before standing to his full height. “i’ll be right back!” he yelled, running into your en-suite. you giggle before relaxing into your cocoon, sleep welcoming you quickly.

once chan finished in the bathroom, he came out to find you curled up, now facing his side of the bed, soft even breathes escaping you.

he coos before making his way to his side of the bed. he lifted the sheets, sliding under them before gently pulling you to him, body melting into his.

he wraps his arms around you, “good night my sleepy baby, i love you.” he whispers, placing a kiss on your temple, before relaxing, letting sleep take over.

this didn’t last long however, chan lightly awoke maybe an hour later, to you stirring in your sleep, light whimpers escaping you. after hearing the first whimpers leave your mouth, he was very alert. he quickly looks over your body trying to determine what’s bringing you distress.

he catches a glimpse of your face, which is contorted in discomfort. he places a hand on your cheek once more, trying to gently wake you. “baby wake up.” he whispers, lightly tapping and stroking your cheek.

after a few seconds you finally wake, only to let out a yelp in pain, curling into the body beside you. “hey hey, baby, what’s going on?” he said kissing your head, rubbing your back.

“period.” you managed to get out, trying to curl further into yourself. one arm wrapped around your lower abdomen, the other one clenched into a fist against your forehead.

you start holding your breath unconsciously, praying the pain will subside. chan notices and gently taking your fist in his.

“breathe baby, breathe,” he says calmly, opening your fist to slot your fingers through his. you let out a jagged breath leaning your forehead against your joined hands, “squeeze my hand if you need to jagi but, you gotta breathe baby.” his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

you take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything over than the stabbing pain in your abdomen. “doing so good bug, just breathe.” his other hand coming up to smooth the crease between your eyebrows.

your breathing evens out slightly as the pain lessen a bit. a moment of silence passes before you sit up, hands still entwined. chan follows you, rubbing small circles on your back. “did you take medicine earlier?” you nod your head. “right before you got home.” he hummed, understanding.

“i’ll be right back, okay?” he whispers, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. you nod slightly, focusing on your breathing. he leans over, placing a kiss to the side of your head before getting up and making his way into the bathroom.

you grab a pillow behind you hugging it as you wait for him to return. a few moments passed before he reemerges with your heating pad in hand. he rounds the bed, plugging in the pad before sitting next to you.

“i’m gonna move this quick, okay?” you nod, moving your arms. he grabs the pillow, placing the heating pad in it’s place. “thank you.” you mumble, leaning on him, placing your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome bug.” he kisses the top of your head before placing his there.

you sit there for a moment before you feel the guilt slowly creep up, the lump forming in the back of your throat. you turn your head into his shoulder as tears start to stream down your face.

“hey, hey, do you want more medicine? what can i do?” he asks, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. you shake your head, before moving to put your hand in your hands.

“i’m sorry channie,” you cried. “i know you’re probably exhausted, and shouldn’t have to deal with this.” you feel him move in front of you before placing his hands on your face, lifting it. “i am your boyfriend, it is my job to take care of you when you need me. and right now you’re in pain because of something you can’t control.” he pauses, looking into your eyes, gently wiping the tears running down your cheeks.

“i will always take care of you, doesn’t matter, time, place, if i’m tired or not, i will always help you. understand?” you nod, moving into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, shoving your face into his neck.

he wraps his arms around your torso pulling you impossibly closer. “i love so much, jagiya. okay?” you nod your head quickly. “i love you too, more than you know.” you say into his neck, placing a kiss on his skin.

you both stay like that for a moment before chan pulls away slightly. he wipes your tears once more before placing a kiss on your lips. “let’s get you to sleep, hm?” you agree, moving back into the mattress.

you watch him make his way to his side, getting comfortable under the duvet. once settled, he opens his arms for you to lay down. you giggle before quickly laying on him, making sure your heating pad was still in the correct position.

you place a kiss to his jaw before settling into his chest, duvet pulled to cover both of you. “thank you, i love you so much.” he places one last kiss to your head. “ you don’t have to thank me, i love you so much, good night my sleepy baby.” you smile, feeling at peace. “goodnight, channie.” you place a kiss over his heart before both of drift off once more.

do not repost

*feedback is always appreciated as are likes/reblogs!*

#bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagine #skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids fluff #ash's archive ⟡˖°

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vivwritesfics · 10 days

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oscar and i have the EXACT same birthday (down to the year lmao) and… since it’s this saturday… was WONDERING if you’d write a fic of logan getting with oscar’s twin sister lmao

- 🇺🇸 (ironic i, an american, am asking for a fic about an australian. but.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE (this turned out wayyy longer than i expected lol)

2022

y/npiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 103,283 others

y/npiastri happy birthday to my LITTLE brother

view all comments

username1 this is gold

oscarpiastri MINUTES

oscarpiastri WE WERE BORN MINUTES APART

y/npiastri I just so happened to be born first

logansargeant happy birthday to my favourite twins

y/npiastri thank you pookie oscarpiastri thank you MY BEST FRIEND LOGAN

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 204,458 others

oscarpiastri happy birthday stinky

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y/npiastri die

username2 lmao i love them

logansargeant we can't just have one normal birthday post, can we?

y/npiastri then we wouldn't be the pastry twins oscarpiastri *piastri twins y/npiastri guess again, genius

logansargeant

liked by y/npiastri, and 230,487 others

logansargeant happy birthday besties

view all comments

y/npiastri ty pookie

oscarpiastri this picture is awful

y/npiastri he means we love it (twin telepathy) oscarpiastri stop being nice oscarpiastri you're never nice

username3 happy birthday piastri twins

2023

y/npiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 185,832 others

y/npiastri happy birthday to Lando's teammate

view all comments

oscarpiastri you don't have my permission to post this

landonorris i knew you preferred me lol

logansargeant lmao when's the party

y/npiastri ;) oscarpiastri ...

oscarpiastri can you just call me your brother

oscarpiastri for once pls y/npiastri go away, teammate of Lando's

landonorris happy birthday to y/n's brother

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 267,482 others

oscarpiastri happy birthday twin

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y/npiastri this picture is amazing send it to me

logansargeant when was this?

oscarpiastri your 21st y/npiastri lmao you were there, lo

username4 omg she called him lo

username5 lol oscar would never let that happen liked by oscarpiastri

logansargeant

liked by y/npiastri, and 301,483 others

logansargeant birthday people

view all comments

y/npiastri terrible picture, try again

oscarpiastri thank you for not embarrassing us this year

logansargeant saving my ammo for the big 23

username6 they're literally my favourites

alex_albon happy birthday guys

2024

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 345,692 others

oscarpiastri happy birthday big pastry

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y/npiastri happy birthday lil pastry

logansargeant happy birthday pastries

y/npiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 153,485 others

y/npiastri happiest birthday girl

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oscarpiastri excuse me WHAT IS THIS

oscarpiastri PICK UP THE PHONE

oscarpiastri WHO IS THIS

logansargeant happy birthday ❤

username7 odds on its logan

username8 LY/N CONFIRMED

logansargeant

liked by y/npiastri, and 293,485 others

logansargeant my birthday girl

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username7 called it lol

oscarpiastri I THINK THE FUCK NOT

oscarpiastri BOTH OF YOU PICK UP THE PHONE

oscarpiastri worst birthday ever

y/npiastri get over it

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etdanger · 2 months

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AHHHH omg pls tell me u see the vision with corrupt cop mingyu and neighbor nice girl who’s super sweet !! she’s innocent but not stupid and mingyu likes that but she just pays him no mind

CW: NONCON, DRUGGING AND SOMNOPHILIA.

first, this 98% background story and 2% smut, literally, more of mingyu just being fucking sick in the head than anything but i really liked writing this so, and second, kinda fuck the police i guess-

the hot, older, seemingly normal cop next door that gets interested in you since the day he knocked on your door to introduce himself and offer you his number because “you’re so young… and alone too, it can be dangerous around here” clearly flirting and you simply nodded, gave him the biggest smile, a “thank you” and closed the door on his face.

you’re so sweet and nice and clearly such a good girl, so pretty too, he does everything to try and get your attention and yet nothing but smiles and few conversations from you. but he knows you’re not stupid and thinks you’re playing hard to get, convinces himself you looked at him differently once, and that just drive drives him further into his obsession with you and that’s where his not so normal side comes out.

listen, i don’t think he will ever admit out loud that he’s stalking you but that definitely what he does. he is a cop and that comes with certain benefits, he’s just using those to get closer to you. totally the type to find out where you work and ask his superiors to have his route reallocated to the area so he can spend all his day looking out for you. discovers your favorite cafe close by and starts casually ordering there too, acting all surprised when he hears your voice calling him, starts offering to take you to places and is quickly to brush it off when you say you can’t disturb his job, claiming it’s a “slow day, nothing really happening”.

you get what i’m saying here? he’s the type to use his job as a way to slowly insert himself into your life, your personal space, and it totally escalates to more extreme things. i can see him starting to find ways to scary you, to make you need him and his help, sending you creepy texts from random numbers through the day, pictures of yourself, even finding ways to break into your house in the middle of the night, making noises to wake you up or leaving things for you to find. his chest gets filled with such a sick satisfaction when you finally call him one night in tears and whispering, asking for help because there’s someone in your house and of course he is there in a minute, gun in hand and everything. so nice he is, taking your shaking body in his arms and reassuring you you’re safe, he won’t let anything happen to you. and of course, of course he asks you if you want to sleep in his house that night, or how many nights you want obviously, if that would make you feel safe, kissing your forehead so gently when you look up with teary eyes and nods.

he wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea, insists you take his bed, he won’t mind sleeping in the couch. listens carefully to everything you have to say about the things that are happening and wipes your tears when you cry, reads the texts you received as if he wasn’t the one who wrote every single one, looks at the pictures… promising he will make everything on his reach to find out whoever this person is, you can trust him.

and honestly i don’t care that this is too cliche or whatever, he would put something on your tea. like, i think that at this point he would be so desperate to have you, he doesn’t care anymore, just the sound of you crying and saying you needed his help, feeling your shaky form against his body, all of that was enough to make him hard, to think he wouldn’t try to touch you would be nonsense. so yes, he does puts something on your tea, enough to not have you opening your pretty eyes for hours, and stands for a few moments at the bedroom door watching you sleep, loving smile on his lips seeing you so relaxed in his bed, cuddling one of his pillows.

walks closer, as if you could wake at any giving moment, and sits by your side, brushing hair out of your face, leaning down to kiss your cheek and corner of your lips, breathing into your smell… he’s such a creep, for christ’s sake. runs a hand up and down your arm while the other palms his cock through his sweatpants, quick to pull your top up to get a good view of your tits, not holding back on grabbing one, yes, he should be careful, not leave marks, but he waited for so long for this, jerked off under the shower so many times thinking about you… speaking of jerking off, starts pumping himself by instinct, too lost on feeling your body. would try to resist but end up parting your legs and licking his fingers to toy with your pussy, groaning a bit too loud upon feeling your little clit and how tight you are, not properly wet, barely taking the tip of his index finger— but it’s okay, he will have time to make you wet for him in the future and fuck you nicely. spills all over his hand between groans and whispering things such as “you’re going to be mine, uhm? you’re meant to be” and “going to make you my pretty little wife, come home every day to you waiting for me here”

sigh… totally normal man who just wants a little wife.

#asks #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu smut #cw: noncon #cw: drugging #cw: somnophilia

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19burstraat · 5 months

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ketterdam dashboard simulator

goedmedbridge420

who up boeking they canal

10,345 notes

drydens follow

I can't believe some of you log on here and thirstpost about barrel vagrants. it makes me so sick. these men are the very pits of society and have never honoured ghezen a day in their lives. there are so many other young men who make their living in a reverent way. have some dignity.

#ghezen #inghezenssight #ghezenhonouring #churchofghezen #handofghezen

2 notes

kooperomno1fan

lionsroar12 follow

omg HOW is kaz brekker winning this he's SO problematic he's not even good for the economy he killed members of his own gang and kidnapped councilman van eck's son

dregsundrained

cranky coz your gang fell apart aren't you

17,860 notes

oskervoexchange follow

guys is this a mandela effect or what bc I SWEAR this painting used to be in the university district art museum, I literally saw it this week??? but I went today and it was GONE?????? there wasn't even a plaque?? guys pls I'm so confused why is everyone acting like this is normal for ketterdam? do priceless antiques just VANISH? am I being gaslit?

450 notes

stadhall-clerking

guys I'm so sorry I've been MIA :( I found out that my landlord was using my rent on the staves rather than fixing my black mould problem so I pushed him out the window and told the stadwatch he must have fallen and died because he wasn't honouring ghezen and got away with it. anyway I think maybe the black mould explains the dirtyhands/sturmhond fic I was writing sorry :( but I WILL finish my fairy queen of istamere meta post once I've moved into my new lodging

670 notes

dregsconfessions follow

SUBMISSION: sometimes I lie awake thinking about the time I fell down an entire flight of stairs at the slat when kaz was at the bottom, and he just stared at me (still lying on the floor), and then asked if I'd changed the beer kegs at the silver six yet. GIRL NO?!?!?!

#submission #dregs #dirtyhands #admin comment: laughed so loud my upstairs neighbour threatened to shoot me

546 notes

dregsconfessions follow

ADMIN NOTE: if the razorgulls don't fucking stop sending anon hate to this blog we'll tell dirtyhands n he'll send you your own IP address back

#see what happens you hack job seagulls

500 notes

kerchtourismboard

it's us, the real kerch tourism board, here to tell you what we're putting in the new summer season pamphlet. we got 1) three pages all about kaz brekker that end up being more of an advertisement than a deterrent 2) list of slipperiest spots in the barrel where you will fall over and get a concussion when ur drunk 3) top 10 ways to get your wallet stolen by a child in broad daylight 4) paintings of the komedie brute 5) advert for sten's stockpot 6) map of public toilets

570 notes

kerchtourismboardreal follow

we are not affiliated with any degenerate impersonator accounts who claim to be us. we are the only real kerch tourism account.

23 notes

kerchtourismboard-real follow

grafcanal smells like piss and you should bite everyone you see wearing the mister crimson costume

450 notes

stensstockpot follow

it's all 'fuck sten's stockpot' and 'I got food poisoning from the special at sten's stockpot' until you realise you don't have the money for cilla's fry, and then you come CRAWLING back to the loving arms of sten's stockpot and our special. you fucking traitors. you'll be back! you'll all be back

canaljumpings follow

what's in the special sten's stockpot

stensstockpot follow

it's a surprise ;)

bertskerch follow

nah I thought this was the real stens lmao

stensstockpot follow

bert smit you still have 45 kruge to pay on your tab and if you don't cough up we'll send our debtors to break your legs

230 notes

exchangingbabey follow

my grisha girlfriend who still wears a kefta and says things like 'nikolai lantsov is a bastard': ugh they're still debating whether or not the council of tides should be able to control kerch shipping, I hate inter-country politics

me: I think I hauve the queen's lady

4500 notes

(insp) (insp)

#I wasted a full hour making this #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc duology #kaz brekker #ketterdam #soc #grishaverse #shadow and bone #my post #dashboard simulator

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adams-angels · 2 months

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I want to see my man in pain, Adam break down after reader said they want to break up (fluff in the end pls) 😞

I reaaaally enjoyed writing this

I love pain 🥹

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Used

Adam POV

It was a normal night. Out talking to some babes. Tellin' them how great I am. Because, well, I AM! HA! I'm the first fucking man! These bitches swarm me. Who am I to deny them. I check my phone a see y/n has text me. "Ugh, what do you want now you needy fuckin'" I can't believe what I'm reading.

"we're done."

My heart sinks. Why is it sinking. I don't care. I'm fucking ADAM!! Adam stands, pushing away the crowd of angels surrounding him and tries calling you. "Come on.. come on, pick up, you dumb bitch." No answer. NO FUCKING ANSWER. His head spins. Panic sets in as. This isn't happening. Not again.

You think you're better than me?! You're nothing! I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I'VE GOT TONS OF BITCHES WAITING FOR ME!

I DONT NEED YOU I NEVER NEEDED YOU!

He tries calling you again. No answer. "FUCK!" He expands his wings and shoots up, smashing through the skylight. He continues to text and call as he makes his away to your apartment. "FUCKING ANSWER ME!" He screams into his phone. By the time he arrives at your apartment he calms himself down, "I can get them back." He thinks to himself as he lands on your balcony. "They didn't mean it. They couldn't of."

As he reaches for the handle of the sliding door his hand shakes. "No, no, no, no." He grips onto his wrist stepping back from the door, being stopped my the railing. He slides down to the floor. "No, no, no...." His voice cracks, fear, sadness, anger. He never let himself get close. At least that's what he told himself. After the second wife also betrayed him he swore he'd never care so he would never hurt. But somewhere along the way, he fell for you. Although he denied himself.

He rushed to remove his mask, feeling like he can't breathe. Once he got it off he threw it aside. Clutching at his chest as tears escaped from his eyes. "No, no, no.." he whimpered. He sat on the floor for an hour. Thinking about you. What he did wrong. If he did something terrible. Why you're ending it. There wasn't even anything to end and yet his world felt like it was crashing around him.

Once he calmed down he leaned forward and sighed. Wiping his cheeks as he stood up and put his mask back on. He reached for the handle, hesitating before opening the sliding door. He sees you in your bed, asleep. He closed the door quietly and just watched you. For about half an hour before he realised how much a creep he's being. He walked into your livingroom. He's been here plenty times before. He memorized the layout.

He walks over to one of your succulents. You loved them. Once he came over and accidentally knocked one on the floor. You were so upset. He didn't see the big deal but he still went out of his way to buy you a new pot for it and a new succulent altogether. Just something to say he was sorry without actually saying sorry. He smiled as he remembered your joy. He sat on the couch and waited.

A couple hours later he heard rustling in your room. He shot up from the couch and heading to your bedroom, freezing at the doorway as he sees you wake. You scream in surprise, falling off your bed. He noticed your phone falling off the nightstand with you. His chest tightens. Your phone. Those horrible texts. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" You yell at him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stands there, feeling awkward. "You want to leave me?" He asked, trying hard to not break his voice. You tut, he watches at you stand, wanting to help but to afraid to move. "You say that like you cared." You snap, picking your phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards you, reaching out but you recoiled. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

Adam braces himself. For you to yell. For you to scream. For you to tell him you love someone else. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." His shoulders slump down he hesitantly steps closer to you "What are you talking about?" He carefully slides his hand under yours "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with your as his other hand brushes your hair from you face. His breath catches seeing your red, watery eyes "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups your face. He looks into your eyes and for the first time in eons he chose to be vulnerable. "Be mine?" He watches you shrug. Rightfully assuming you've misunderstood his request he clarifies "no, I'm asking. Be mine." The way you look at him makes his chest tighten in fear. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He glares at you. Of course you'd remember that. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in in frustration. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. "I'll have to think about it." His chest tightened. His heart beating a million miles a minute. You'd see how pale he would be if he wasn't wearing the mask. "H-how long will that take?" He asked, desperation leaking out of him.

"I don't know, Adam." You shrug. The air was thick. He was struggling to breath and needed to get out of there. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kisses your hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." He heads to the sliding door he entered from, opening it and expanding his wings as he jumps off. He looks behind to see if you watched leave like you've done so maybe times before. But you're not there.

It's been a month. A whole month. It should feel like nothing to him considering how long he's been in existence yet it feels like a years. He sees you about. With your friends. Getting groceries. Whenever his eyes catch on to you he freezes. No matter what he's doing.

He can't keep this up. He didn't want to pressure you. Make you feel like you had to choose him. But fuck he needed you to choose him. He was in his office. But he couldn't focus. He was so tired, not being able to sleep well without you. Even if he didn't sleep the whole night it was always nice knowing you were there no matter what. At least that's what he used to think.

He checked his phone to see nothing from you. It was too much. He was alone. You were never coming back. No one ever comes back. Lilith left him. Eve left him. Now you. "Fuck. FUCK!" He picks up his coffee and punts it at the wall. He can't stay here. He needs to find you. He needs you back.

He swung the door open and there you were. He couldn't believe it. He thought you'd at least text him. Not show up at his office! His feathers were literally ruffled, his office looks like a bombs hit it. "Y/n?" He said softly, it was like time stopped for a minute. He wish it did. Then he could scoop you in his arms and never let you leave. He snapped back into reality changing his expression quickly, not want anyone to see a softer side to him. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. He hates that you didn't text. He would of cleaned up there were documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. He hated it was such a mess for you. "Bad day?" You commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven." He mumbled as he slumps down on his office chair.

Resting his chin on the back of his hand as he watches you walk over to his office window, opening it. The musky smell almost dissipating immediately "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight, watching you like a hawk. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." He immediately bolts from his chair, wrapping his arms around you. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His voice breaks, wings surrounded the both of you. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam smut

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randombush3 · 1 day

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a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

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itgetsdark-x · 1 year

Text

I Wanna See You Beggin’ (Part 2)

Summary: Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldn’t help the way you ached for the man. Disclaimers: (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) I do not own any of these characters / people but I did write these words, I don’t give permission for this to be copied anywhere else 😌

Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni, pls), oral (m receiving)(pretty rough deep throating), face slapping (just once), mild choking, praise kink, age gap (reader mid twenties, Joel would be late 40s), use of the word ‘daddy’, minor angst / pining, no outbreak in this au. It’s just filthy smut… again lol

A/N: okay so y’all seemed to enjoy part one (read here if you haven’t done so yet!) , which by the way, I am totally blown away by, I appreciate all the likes and reblogs <3 I already have a third part near enough ready to go so if this is enjoyed again, I’ll for sure post it. Don’t forget, you can send me asks with any requests you may have for future fics / one shots 💕

You hissed under your breath as the early morning light pierced through the thin curtains and disrupted your peaceful slumber. You stretched out your limbs with a yawn and relished in the delicious ache in your thighs, it was a lasting reminder that last night actually happened and wasn’t a crazy sex dream. Your hand sleepily traced the mattress next to you and you felt cool sheets, panic rose like acid in your throat and you bolted up right in the unfamiliar bed.

Joel. Where was Joel?

Great, he had probably gone out, wanting you to be gone by the time he was back; just wanting to avoid any further interaction with you. You got out of bed and quietly walked down the stairs, hugging Joel’s shirt around your waist for warmth.

Your breath caught in your throat as you walked into the kitchen and saw Joel out on his patio, smoking a cigarette, a steaming mug of coffee on the table next to him. He was dressed in an old jumper, rips at the hem and loose joggers, he looked breathtaking; his hair dishevelled and messy and shoulders looking so broad as he rested against the wall. You turned and saw another mug on the countertop, maybe he did want you there after all.

Joel took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke, his breath lingering in the cool early morning air as he did so. He went to reach for his warm mug of coffee but caught a glimpse of you inside; there you were, still you but somehow different. His shirt looked perfect on you, especially when you pulled the fabric around you; he could see your perky nipples through the thin fabric and it made his mouth water.

No. Not now, you both needed to sit down and actually talk about what happened last night. Joel was happy to draw a line in the sand and pretend it never happened, if that is what you wanted. It would kill him, seeing you without being able to have you again but he would do it, if you wanted to.

“Mornin’,” he said as he opened the back door and stepped into the warm house, mug still in hand. “How’d you sleep, darlin’?” He asked, his voice raspy after his first cigarette of the day, sleep still thick in the air for you both.

“Hi,” you said quietly. “Slept like a baby for a change.” You laughed dryly. “Is that for me?” You asked awkwardly, shrugging your head towards the hot mug on the countertop.

He nodded and that’s all you needed before you picked up the mug and brought it up to your lips. You drank some of the smooth liquid and sighed contentedly as you felt the warmth spread through your throat and body. Just what you needed.

You shuffled awkwardly on the spot, feet not knowing how to stand still. You would normally walk into Joel’s house and swan around like it were you own home but now you couldn’t help but feel like a guest, and an awkward one at that. You opened your mouth to speak when Joel’s phone rang loudly, making you jump slightly.

The older male fished his phone out of his trouser pockets and hit answer.

“Hey bud, whatcha doing today? Chilly out but looks like good weather for the rest of the day, thinking we could go out fishing or something?” You heard your dad through the phone and your throat tightened, shame rose in your body and you placed your mug on the counter shakily.

“Hey, I - I uh, I’m not feeling too good today actually. Think that Chinese was a little funky last night.” Joel lied, glancing over to you.

“Okay no worries, Miller. Will catch ya on Monday at work.” Your dad spoke.

Joel was about to say his goodbyes and hastily hang up the phone when your dad spoke once more.

“Hey, did you hear from Y/N last night once she was home? I know sometimes she’ll send me a message once she’s home safe. Just a bit worried, kiddo is a woman now but I still panic. Y’know?” Your dad rambled.

“Nope. Not heard from her.” Joel lied once more and guilt spread throughout his whole body. He felt sick. “I’ll send her a message and tell her to quit worryin’ her dad! Maybe she just fell asleep.”

“Yeah yeah, that’s true. Thanks Joel, see you soon.” And with that, your dad had hung up the phone.

Joel gently threw his phone gently onto the countertop and you couldn’t help but smile.

“He never lets you say bye.” You giggled. “He’ll always say ‘I love you’ but never lets me respond before he hangs up. Old men and technology.” You winked.

“You should text your dad.” Joel stated matter of factly.

“Oh, um. Yeah. I think my phone is still in my car.” You said quietly, Joel’s coldness stinging you.

“I’ll get it for you. Don’t need the neighbours seeing you flashing them this early in the mornin’.” He mumbled, giving your body a once over with your eyes and then that was it, he walked past you to go to your car out front.

“Joel -,” you called and held your hand out to touch his arm but he walked on past you.

You wanted to cry, the sudden coldness felt like such a harsh contrast to his previous warmth. You could still hear his laugh as he teased you last night, could still feel his warmth breath on your sensitive skin. You pressed a finger into your inner thighs and shivered at the dull ache you still felt in them, it was pure, visceral proof that the previous night had happened.

Shakily, you hopped up into the seat at the kitchen countertop, your legs swaying as they searched for the bar to rest on. You had crossed your arms onto the cold marble and pressed your head into them, were you trying to hide, shrink or simply disappear? You weren’t one hundred percent sure but what you did know was you wanted to cry. Everything suddenly felt messier, your dad’s call clearly shook you both and it was frustrating that the little bubble the two of you had created was popped with one two minute phone call. You bit your lip as tears started to fill your vision, making it all blurry, you sniffed and when you heard the front door close softly you sat up and cleared your eyes with the back of your hand.

Joel walked into the kitchen and slid your phone onto the countertop, avoiding eye contact with you. You sniffed and said a small ‘thanks’ with a shaky breath and he then looked at you with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a hand going to touch your arm comfortingly which was such a stark contrast to the coldness in his voice.

You pulled your arm away and stood down from the stool. You looked up at Joel and smiled weakly, in all truth, you wanted to be held by him. You wanted him to kiss you softly and promise that everything would work out fine but you didn’t quite believe that would be the case.

“Oh, uh, nothing. I should, um, I should text dad and get going. Don’t wanna hang around like a bad rash or nothin’.” You spoke hurriedly and looked down at your phone.

‘Miller said you were worried, sorry, pops. Was a long night. I love you :) xxx’ you punched the message into your phone and hit send, hoping with everything that your dad wouldn’t ring you, you weren’t ready to face him yet. He had no clue how you and Joel had potentially ruined the ten year friend that was shared.

“Peach,” he whispered and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. The nickname sent warmth through you once again, it caused butterflies to erupt and for a quick throb to ripple through your core as you remembered your antics from last night. The way Joel had moaned your nickname as he tasted you on his fingers for the first time. “I mean,” he sighed again, searching for the right words.

“Y/N,” he said dryly. There is was again. Hot, cold, hot, cold… He turned to face you and looked directly at your face, he could see the sadness settled in your very features, he hated it and he wanted to beat himself up for causing it. He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t but his legs were moving without him even thinking and he was there, placing a kiss to your lips without another word. Hot.

You placed a hand on his broad chest and gently pushed away, you didn’t want to break the kiss. Of course you didn’t, why would you but you had been pulled pillar to post this morning already and you felt dizzy.

“W-what do you want from me?” You hissed. “First it’s all darlin’ and how’d you sleep?” You mocked his Southern drawl as you spoke. “Then it’s all, your old man is worried. I’m gonna be a dick and ignore you. Then it’s _Peach_… Then my name, which by the way, you’ve not said seriously like that in years and now a kiss? You’re making me crazy here.” You ranted, your arms dramatically flailing as you spoke. “I said I was gonna go, get out of your hair. We don’t have to speak about this,” you gestured between the two of you. “Again. Don’t worry, Miller.” You spat and sure, maybe it was a little dramatic but he had pissed you off already and you had barely been awake for an hour.

“Watch your tone.” Joel spoke calmly as he watched you huff and fold your arms. “Weren’t being such a brat last night darlin’, maybe you just need to be filled with my cock again. Get you all happy and drunk on my cock. Hm? That was you need, baby?” Somewhere during your rant, you had taken a step or two back but Joel had just closed that distance between you again.

He hooked his finger and thumb under your chin so he could tilt your face up to look at him. You pouted and huffed once more, before re-folding your arms over your chest.

“Fuck off, Joel.” You growled, your voice sharp and confident.

“I said.” Joel hissed out, his grip tightening on your chin to hold your stare. “Watch. Your. Tone.” His other hand went to the nape of your neck and grabbed a handful of hair at the base of your skull. He tugged it harshly causing your head to be held back roughly and you moaned, so pathetically and loud you actually felt ashamed.

“Not so big and confident now, are you, little girl?” Joel chuckled sadistically. “Now. Are you gonna quit acting like a brat and let me cook you some food, I think we should talk over breakfast.” He said, releasing your hair and chin from his hands with a smirk.

“I don’t have panties on,” you whined. “You’re warm and cosy and I don’t even have panties on. Where are mine, anyway?” You asked innocently, knowing full well that he had stuffed them into his jeans pocket last night.

“Oh, those little black ones?” Joel smirked, looking in his fridge for ingredient for breakfast. “Yeah, I’ll be keeping hold of that for you. It was a mess.” Joel laughed as he grabbed eggs and bacon from the large fridge. “Top drawer in my bedroom.”

“Huh?” You asked, head cocked in confusion.

“Clothes. Grab what you want, you can take a pair of my boxers, seems only fair. Tit for tat.” He said nonchalantly like it was all natural.

You rolled your eyes and ran upstairs to grab yourself one of Joel’s old hoodies and a pair of his boxers to at least cover your modesty. You slipped into the boxers and hoodie you smiled, bringing the fabric of the hoodie up to your face to take a deep inhale of Joel’s scent. You wandered into the bathroom to take a look at your appearance and you looked a hot mess, your hair was still up from yesterday but it was knotted and messy. Your makeup, for the most part was still intact besides some black smudges under your eyes.

You found a hairbrush, let your hair fall down and cleaned up your general appearance. You by no means looked perfect, but you looked better than before. You walked down the stairs, humming to yourself and you smiled as the smell of bacon filled your nostrils and you could hear Joel singing to himself in the kitchen.

“You’ve got a nice voice, Miller.” You announced as you walked into the kitchen and took your previous spot in the stall at the countertop. His voice was smooth, it was deep and smokey.

“Thanks, darlin’.” He chuckled, suddenly feeling insecure. “You happy with bacon, eggs and some pancakes?” He asked and poured you a fresh cup of coffee. He handed it to you and kissed your cheek before going back to cooking.

“Thanks.” You whispered and sipped at your coffee, your stomach was full to the brim with butterflies.

“I -“ you both speak at the same time, you both laugh and just like that, some of the tension felt eased between you both again. It felt slightly normal.

“After you, sweet.” Joel said and dished up you both some breakfast. He placed the plate in front of you alongside some cutlery and he smiled as he sat just beside you on the stool at the corner of the counter.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, picking up your cutlery. “I, I was just going to say… if you wanna pretend this never happened, I’ll go along with it, I mean sure it’ll hurt for a bit but like, I guess what I mean is… I’ve pined after you for some years now, I can do it again. I know you care about my dad and wouldn’t want anything to upset him and of course, neither do I! I mean… god, I don’t know what I mean but. I’m sorry about last night, I hope you don’t regret it.” Your voice trailed off at the end and you didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you spoke, you knew if you did you would have been a goner.

“Sweet girl,” he spoke, his voice was breathy and quiet and did you detect a hint of sadness? “I don’t regret last night, not even a little bit. I’m real sorry if I crossed any lines, I know I’m a lot older than you and I know I’ve known you for years.” He mumbled, he was looking at you endearingly and just the sight of you here, in his hoodie, eating breakfast with him like you’ve always belonged there. “I loved last night… Was something I thought about for a while.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Wait. No — you?” You peered up at him through your lashes and you blushed, a light flush settled high on your soft cheeks. You tried to bite back the smile but you couldn’t. “Y-you wanted me like that too?” You asked and grinned as you pushed some food into your mouth.

Joel laughed lowly and ate his breakfast with a fond shake of his head. “Yeah, and why exactly is that so unbelievable to you?” He asked.

“Just. Thought you were too gentlemanly to corrupt your best friend’s daughter.” You smirked.

“We both know you were corrupt long before I had my way with you last night.” He smirked right back, cocking an eyebrow at you as he took a long sip from his mug.

“So…” you said quietly. “What happens now? We going into my pop’s house and say hey dad, guess what!? Old man Miller and I are fucking! He makes my toes curl and eyes roll back into my skull. Aren’t ya happy for us?” Your voice was laced with sarcasm and faux-pep.

Joel spluttered as he choked on his mouthful of food. “Fuck,” he cursed as he laughed. “I think that would be enough to kill your dad off, sweetheart.” He continued laughing and you gently smacked at his bicep. He waved a hand in front of his face dismissively before clearing his throat to continue. “And uh, for what it’s worth… I would very much like to see you, uh, outside of the bedroom as well.” He looked at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Wait you mean… like date me? You wanna date me?” You asked, staring at Joel as if he had grown another head. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Again, why is that so hard to believe?” He questioned, finishing off his breakfast.

“I guess most guys have one night of sex with me and decide either they’re done altogether or that’s all they want from me.” You shrugged, a pang of sadness striking you.

“I don’t know how to make it any clearer than I already have, peach. I want you. Completely. I want you to be mine and no one else’s.” His voice was soft but it was matter of factly.

“God,” you sighed happily and pushed your plate away from you as you stepped down from your stool. “I’ve wanted to hear that from you for so long.” You whispered and closed the distance between you both so you could place a soft kiss to his lips.

His lips tasted sweet from the maple syrup, the faint rich flavour of coffee lingered on his breath and his previous cigarettes still clung to him. It was just Joel still and it made you feel drunk. You reached up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeper, your hands on either side of his face as you did so.

His hands sat on the small of your back and he smiled into the kiss. “So, is that a yes?” He asked, barely breaking the kiss to speak.

You laughed and gave him an eager nod. “Yes. I’m yours. Completely. You’ve got me hooked.” You sighed contentedly.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, hand slipping down to cup your ass. “We will cross the messy bridge of your pops when it’s necessary, yeah?” He asked and peppered soft kisses down your neck after he moved the strands of hair out of the way. You nodded softly before you tilted your neck to expose more of your skin. “Good girl. For now, we’ll see how it goes. Wanna take you out on a real date. Real fancy restaurant and parade you around on my arm.” He said proudly, his hand placing a quick smack to your ass.

You held onto Joel’s shoulders as he kissed your neck and you let out a small moan, barely there and all breath. “How about I thank you for breakfast, daddy?” You smirked, knowing how he had reacted to the nickname the night before.

“Hmm, whatcha got in mind?” He asked, sinking his teeth into your clavicle, just under the fabric of his hoodie.

You looked at him and took a step back, a devilish smile spread across your lips and you grabbed the hair tie from your wrist before pulling your hair up into a rough ponytail.

“Wanna taste you, Miller.” You all but purred into his ear and your hand trailed up his thigh to cup his heavy balls through his joggers. He was already half-hard and you felt his cock twitch. You giggled and looked down to his joggers. “Excited already?” You teased with a new found power in you.

“Shut up,” he growled, rolling his eyes.

You laughed again and dragged him from his stool, you pushed him back with your arm so that the small of his back was flush with the counter. You pulled his joggers down, not wanting to waste a second more. Your mouth was watering, you couldn’t wait to taste him properly, to feel his heavy cock hitting the back of your throat. Admittedly, you were a little nervous as he was big and you hadn’t given head to someone who was so well-endowed but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be willing to die trying.

Joel hissed as the cool air pricked at the damp tip of his cock. His length bobbed gently as it was removed from the restraints of his trousers and Joel stepped out of the joggers. He wasted no time in pulling his old jumper over his head and you felt arousal pool in the pits of your stomach; in this light you could see every freckle, every hair and every tiny scar that peppered Joel’s body. It made your mouth water. You looked Joel in the eyes, a playful smirk sat on your lips and you spat into your hand, the filthy noise echoed that echoed in the kitchen. You wrapped your hand around the shaft of Joel’s large cock and stroked him until he was fully hard and leaking from the slit. He bit into his bottom lip and watched your small hand stroke him, you barely covered half his length as you stroked him and it made each pass more torturous.

“Never gonna get used to how big you are, daddy.” You purred into his ear, leaning up to speak to him all whilst your hand stroked him. “You think I’m gonna be able to take you into my mouth fully?” You asked with a moan, really ramping up the sexiness, just anything to drive the older man wild.

He groaned, it was working. His voice caught in his throat as he went to speak. “Gonna have to try really hard for me, little girl.”

You sank to your knees and looked up at Joel through your long lashes. You stuck your tongue out and licked a long, fat stripe from the base to tip of his cock. You immediately moaned, a vague salty tang spreading over your tongue and you felt an insatiable hunger build inside of you.

Joel looked down at you and stroked a soft hand over your cheek, encouraging you to take him into your mouth. You were more than happy to oblige, you opened your mouth wider and allowed yourself to sink your mouth onto his tip and down, down, down. You halted, your lips were tightly wrapped around his cock and you breathed through your nose shakily. He was so big, you weren’t convinced you would be able to take him further. You looked up at Joel and repeated that process; drawing your mouth up and then back down to the same spot.

“That’s it, my good girl. Taking daddy’s cock so well.” He cooed, his voice somehow soothing yet so condescending. It sent shockwaves through your body and you wanted more from him; you wanted him to praise you more, you wanted him to humiliate you more. Just more.

You moaned around his length and your eyes fluttered shut as you managed to take him deeper until your nose was pressed into the thatch of dark pubic hair. You breathed through your nose again, trying to relax your throat deeper for Joel to use. You breathed in deep and whined from the back of your throat, his musk was heady and thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel groaned gruffly. Your noises sent vibrations through the tip of his cock and it had him letting his head fall back in defeat. “Good girl, good girl, good girl.” He chanted as you raised your mouth, you fully removed his length from your mouth and let your tongue swirl around his tip before you dipped it into his leaking slit.

“Tastes so good.” You moaned, sticking your tongue out, taking his cock you slapped it onto the flat of your tongue. Spittle ran down your chin and onto his hoodie as you did so and it was the perfect picture of sin. Joel wanted to take a photo and keep with him forever.

“Naughty girl,” he smirked, looking back down at you hand, his hand was still gently rested on your face and he swiped his thumb across your bottom lip. “How about we take that hoodie off you so I can see those perfect tits.” He said, holding your chin and urging you to stand up.

You obeyed, of course you did, you were completely at Joel’s will. You smiled at him, wiping your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. It was filthy and made his cock twitch knowing he was the one making a mess of someone who always seemed so put-together and perfect. You held the hem of the hoodie you were wearing and you pulled it over your head, removing your shirt at the same time, in one swift movement. Your tits bounced as they caught on the fabric of the hoodie and Joel watched with fervour.

He didn’t say a single word instead, he ducked his head down and latched messily onto one of your nipples. You whimpered, ignoring the dampness in your underwear and absently, you cursed that you had ruined a pair of Joel’s boxers.

“J-Joel,” you whined and tugged your fingers into his hair. “Wanna finish what I started.” You huffed and it was true, you wanted Joel to feel as good as he had made you feel the night before. “I’m trying to say thank you for breakfast, remember.” You laughed breathlessly.

He finally released your nipple after feeling somewhat satisfied with its effect on you. You took a breath before resuming your previous position on your knees, your hands holding onto his thighs for stability and you wasted no time in sinking your mouth back onto Joel’s cock, he groaned once more and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched.

“So beautiful. So perfect. No one has sucked my cock this good before, Peach. No one has made me feel this good. Such a good girl for me, doing such a good job.” He moaned, his words falling out of his parted lips as a helpless ramble. “A-are you happy for me to be rougher?” He asked you, and you pulled off him again with a slightly cocked head in confusion.

“Rougher?” You asked, innocence completely shrouding your voice.

“Yeah, I would love to be able to fuck into your mouth, into that good little throat of yours. Feel you gag around me.” Joel’s cock twitched heavily in your hand, his own words clearly exciting him and you couldn’t deny the way your arousal pooled deep inside of you. “If it gets too much darlin’, you tell me and I’ll stop immediately. Alright. Don’t wanna hurt you.” He cooed, there it was again; that somewhat comforting yet entirely condescending tone of voice.

You nodded dumbly up at him, unsure of how he wanted you to continue. It was as if he read your mind in that moment. “Open your mouth real wide for me, baby girl.” His voice was commanding and you followed his instructions obediently. “That’s it, atta girl. Now, put your hands flat on your thighs and let daddy fuck that filthy mouth of yours.”

A whine escaped your mouth and again, you followed his instructions perfectly. Joel took his cock and pushed it into the wet of your mouth with a gruff moan. He bottomed out harshly and you couldn’t help the gag that built up and escaped. You screwed your eyes shut, just trying to will yourself and your throat to relax and accommodate him.

“Shh, that’s it. Take it.” He growled and pulled his hips back before pushing his cock back into your mouth once again, he kept one hand roughly placed at the back of your head, gripping your ponytail just so he had some leverage to get himself deeper into your mouth. He started a rough pace from the get-go and you allowed it to happen; tears fell from your eyes and stained your cheeks as he continued his attack on your throat. “Look at me.” He commanded harshly, his voice was a low growl.

You tried opening your eyes to look up at him but with each thrust into your mouth they squeezed shut, spit was spilling from all around your lips as Joel fucked into you. You were helpless and you loved it, you felt like you were doing something good and making him feel good, it’s all you wanted.

“I said,” Joel hissed and brought his hand down to slap across your face abruptly. “Fuckin’ look up at me.” He growled once again and your eyes shot open, panic filling them at the slap. It should have hurt but it didn’t, it just made you wetter than before. A vague sting lingered on your delicate face but it made you hungry to do better for Joel, you wanted to impress him more. “That’s it. Good little slut for daddy, aren’t you?” He hissed, his free hand resting on your throat, with each thrust Joel could feel you try and swallow his tip, he squeezed your neck and he could feel it through your throat. With each thrust he felt the fat head of his cock bump against the back of your throat and hit near his hand.

Your eyes fluttered shut again at his filthy words, them having just the effect on you he desired, this time Joel allowed it. You felt lightheaded as you tried to suck in air through your mouth but instead spit bubbles gathered at your lips. It was obscene and filthy, only something you had seen in hardcore pornos before.

Your hands gripped helplessly at your own thighs, still doing as you you were told. Every so often, when Joel’s cock hit the back of your throat and you weren’t able to catch your breath or swallow you gagged harshly around Joel but that only seemed to egg him on further.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, his hips stuttering slightly. “G-gonna cum.” He groaned, his hands releasing the vice on your neck and hair which caused you to gasp around his cock. “Where do you want it, little girl? Wanna swallow it all down? Or do you want it all over your pretty face and tits?” He asked, admiring your wrecked face.

Joel pulled his cock roughly from your mouth and you swallowed down air like it was going out of fashion, your eyes were leaking and a thick, long line of spit joined his cock to your lips still.

“M-mouth.” You managed to stutter out.

He smirked down at you and drank in the filth before him. Your cheeks were flushed pink, one side of your face pinker than the other where we had slapped you previously. Your eyes were wet, your mascara only having been smudged further as your tears stained your cheeks and your lips were puffy and swollen from the bruising force of Joel’s cock.

“Wanna taste me, huh? Wanna drink down what daddy gives?” He asked using that tone once again.

You nodded dumbly and stuck your tongue out for Joel to finish on. He smiled and took his length, he gave your cheek a slap with it and you moaned weakly at him, your thighs were shaking from holding your body up at this angle for so long. As you moaned, Joel laughed breathily and slapped his cock onto your tongue; your curled it upwards, ready to catch every drop of cum he would give you.

“Please,” you breathed, your eyes batting and heavy lidded.

“As you wish, princess.” He groaned and stroked himself quickly, his cock plenty lubed from your excessive spit. He locked eyes with you and you felt your body nearly crumble under his heavy gaze. You were near panting as you waited with anticipation, with Joel’s dark eyes boring into you. His once warm, puppy brown eyes seemed almost black as he released himself onto your tongue.

As the first drops hit your tongue you felt Joel’s cock head twitch as he came, hard. You whimpered at the taste, waiting for him to stroke himself through his orgasm. You weakly reached a hand up to stroke him and help milk him of every drop and he winced at the overstimulation. Once you were sure Joel had finished, you curled your tongue into your mouth and swallowed down the salty taste with a moan. You were never usually a fan of guy’s finishing in your mouth but with Joel, how could you say no. Everything about him drove you wild, right down to how his cum tasted.

Joel helped you off the floor and placed a chaste kiss to your lips. “So beautiful,” he whispered and you smiled. “Did such a good job, peach.” He praised and pressed a kiss to your forehead; you loved the way pride blossomed through your chest and it only made you want to try again, and do better that time.

“Tastes so good.” You moaned against Joel’s lips softly and it caused him to smile. “Thanks again for breakfast.” You giggled.

“I uh, I hope I didn’t go too far or hurt you? I’m really sorry if I did, I got carried away.” He mumbled sheepishly, and this time it was his turn for his cheeks to flush red.

“Joel,” you warned softly. “It was perfect and I, well, I think you unlocked a new kink for me.” You laughed, stroking the male’s face gently to encourage him to make eye contact. “I mean, I always kinda knew I had a praise kink but you’ve confirmed that and well, uh, the roughness kinda drove me crazy. I think I’m gonna need to borrow a new pair of boxers to drive home in.” You chuckled lowly and Joel smiled back at you with a boyish grin.

“Good, never wanna hurt you, my good girl.” He praised and kissed your temple. “You… You don’t have to go home today, if you don’t wanna, I mean. You can go and get some clothes and come and stay over again, if you want?” Joel spoke softly and you can tell he felt nervous offering that to you.

“I should probably stay at home tonight, I’m seeing pops tomorrow and I don’t think I’ll be able to function if we have sex or anything again. I swear your cock is making me dumber by the second.” You jested. “But uh, maybe we could go on that date next week? If you still wanna, of course.”

“I’m free Tuesday.” Joel confirmed without missing a beat.

“Tuesday it is then, I’ll be expecting your call, Miller.” You kissed him quickly before running off upstairs to get you changed. You grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from Joel’s drawer and also took the liberty of stealing back his hoodie and a pair of grey joggers.

You bundled your clothes together in your arms and headed back downstairs; you so desperately needed a long hot shower, some more food and a long nap.

“I’ll see you Tuesday?” You asked softly as you stood by Joel’s front door.

“Tuesday.” He repeated. “I see you’ve acquired more of my clothes then.” He chuckled, raising a brow at you as he held your hip in his large hand.

“Yeah I didn’t really feel like putting the skirt and tank top back on, I just wanna be comfy. Plus, these smell like you so win-win.” You laughed and with a sigh you took your car keys and phone from Joel’s hand and placed a kiss to his lips.

He sighed softly into the kiss and pulled you a little closer; the kiss was different to before, not as hungry and desperate but it was sensual and passionate, you could feel all the unspoken words in it. All the times you had both clearly pined for one another’s touch and lips.

“Joel,” you sighed, resting your head onto his chest. “I really don’t wanna go and if you keep kissing me like that, I’ll stay forever and then we will both be in trouble.” You laughed.

“Fine,” Joel pouted. “Go, go live your young person’s life and have fun, I’ll be here. Withering away, my back’s posture similar to a stale chip. Fine.” He closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand up to forehead, feigning betrayal and hurt. He peeped at you with one of his eyes and laughed as you rolled yours at him.

“So damned dramatic, Miller. You’ll see me in a couple days. You’ve gone years without me, I’m sure you’ll cope.” You laughed and just as you turned to leave, your hand already on the door handle, Joel’s body was pressed behind you and he placed sweet kisses to your cheek and neck.

“Yeah, well, I’ve tasted you now and I know how good you taste. I don’t wanna wait days to see you again.” His breath fanned over your neck and you shivered.

It was now or never, if you allowed Joel to pull you in again you would be stuck in his house forever, the two of you glued to one another.

“Goodbye, Joel.” You finalised and opened the front door and you knew that would have him taking a step or two back, especially with how nosey his neighbours could be.

“See ya later, peach.” He sighed and waved you off before he closed the door and rest his back against it with a groan. It was going to be a long few days without seeing you again.

“Fuck.” He cursed aloud and he knew it was going to be a long few days without you.

“See ya later, peach.” He sighed and waved you off before he closed the door and rest his back against it with a groan. “Fuck.” He cursed and he knew it was going to be a long few days without you.

“See ya later, peach.” He sighed and waved you off before he closed the door and rested his back against it with a groan. “Fuck.” He cursed and he knew it was going to be a long few days without you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #I wanna see you beggin’

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cryptidghostgirl · 29 days

Note

Oooo part 2 of Aka Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader) was interesting

Loved it a lot 😭

Just imagining how reader would meet Lucifer (yes I'mma add some short king love) for the first time, whether this the ep where everyone meets him for the first time or he's just visiting is undecided.

Anyways she's a smart gal, she creates viruses, diseases, etc.. in order to destroy the human race (now demon and angel race), so she tries to befriend Lucifer

He's powerful, he could be her ticket out of the deal she was tricked into. Plus Alastor hates him so even better.

Whether the wife collector is befriending her from his hatred for Alastor (aka trying to steal his ex wife) or because he actually likes her or not is also undecided

But they become buddies, keeping her little secret while playing Alastor as this horrid creature that coerced her into a deal

She might not understand how deals function, but just like Alastor she'll find a way out of it. She won't let him interrupt her work for years again.

Another bonus of befriending Lucifer is she can try and coerce him into giving her some samples (blood, hair, skin, etc..) It'll help with the virus she's creating, along with seeing if there's any cell differences between fallen angels and normal ones.

A/N I literally love this idea. It is so on brand for her if she was tuned in with the world around her enough to realize her hanging with Lucifer even made Alastor mad. Also, not you calling Lucifer 'the wife collector,' that made me cackle.

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 3 (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader x maybe also Lucifer a little bit if you squint

Previous Parts:

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

Warnings: I am not a woman nor am I in stem (but an enby in history) so pls be kind about the fact that I don't understand science. Angst, abusive/unhealthy relationship, possessive Alastor. It's not love but its certainly something.

Word Count: 2,176

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, wasn't that how the expression went?

It had been a month since that fateful day Y/n had struck a deal with Alastor, tying her to his side once again. She railed against it, fought valiantly, but there was no escaping the constraints of the contract. Never allowed a moment to herself, Y/n's life became a series of involvement in group activities she hated and chastisements from Alastor. She sat at his feet, the collar hanging heavy around her neck as a sort of twisted crown in his eyes. The Radio Demon and his wife, his queen, his prisoner.

She was never allowed out of his sight, Alastor even forcing her to stay in the same room as him, to sleep in the same bed. It was nothing Y/n had any sort of frame of reference for. He had never been like this in life, she had never experienced this sort of metaphorical suffocation. Y/n was adrift, the world a confusing blur around her. Every time she tried to make sense of it, thought she had figured out some small aspect, he changed it all again and left her in a lurch that sent her mind spiraling into unformed chaos.

Even when she managed somehow to stole a spare moment, was able to sneak away to her lab of a room, Alastor found her and dragged her out again. Y/n's continual protests and pleas to be allowed to continue her work, for him to hold up his end of the bargain and deliver her an angel, fell on deaf ears or were merely met with a solitary, fragile 'soon.' For all this time, Y/n had thought Hell to be misrepresented. She had found a true Heaven in Pentagram City, a safe haven, a salve. Now, she knew the true meaning of suffering.

It was different than she had expected. To suffer had always been something physical in her eyes. It had been her victims writhing in pain, it had been the sharp oppression of a world filled with human life. Never had she thought being trapped in her own mind like this could be a curse, rather than a blessed moment of reprieve.

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, wasn't that how the expression went? Y/n's hands were most certainly idle, all she needed was the devil to play with them.

It was just her luck when Lucifer showed up at the hotel, intent on visiting his daughter. Y/n was never the most observant but, since being tricked into selling her soul to Alastor, had become quite wary and watchful of him. It did not escape her notice the way his stance tightened and his eye twitched the minute the King of Hell threw himself through the hotel's double doors and into Charlie's arms.

Y/n watched the interaction carefully from where she sat lazily on the table beside Angel Dust and Sir Pentious. There were exactly three thoughts in her mind. The first was that it was useful to know Alastor hated the man. The second was that Lucifer was standing right before her eyes. He was powerful, maybe powerful enough to get her out of the sticky situation she currently found herself to be in. Not only that, but he was once an angel. This was the most important of the three thoughts, completely eclipsing the other two as soon as they reared their heads. Not quite the real deal but, potentially useful none the less. Getting close to him could mean getting one step closer to her goals. Silently, she slipped down from the table and began to approach the grouping of demons.

With a carful step, she sidled up behind them. Softly, she raised a hand to the back of Lucifer's head, to where his hair peaked out from beneath the edges of his hat. The excitement that rose in her chest was quickly stifled as Lucifer spun around.

"Charlie!" he exclaimed, "Why don't you introduce me to some of your other fr- oh!"

Y/n froze, her hand still raised. She opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat once she caught the glare Alastor was sending her way. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Y/n's hands fell to her sides, clasping behind her back.

"Uh..." Lucifer turned to his daughter, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, don't mind Y/n," Charlie awkwardly tittered, stepping forward, "she is always a bit... odd but, she is actually our newest guest!"

"Uh-huh." Lucifer nodded, his eyes moving back to Y/n and examining her features carefully, "Well, it is nice to be meeting you."

Lucifer stuck out his hand for Y/n to shake but the demon just eyed it warily. The furtive glance she shot Alastor behind his back, and the subtle nod he gave in return, did not escape Lucifer's notice. With another distasteful glance towards his hand, Y/n raised part of her hair up and took it, shaking it firmly.

Lucifer's confusion only seemed to grow as he looked down towards the point of connection.

"Um... okay, then." he hummed in thought as she released his hand.

It was when Alastor went out to solve the problem Mimzy had caused that Lucifer took his chance. All the while, as Mimzy had blathered on to Y/n about the 'good old days' and the shared aspects of their pasts, as soon as the tour of the hotel had ended, she had watched him. Observance was not, however, in her nature. It completely had escaped her notice that, all the while, Lucifer had been watching her as well.

The demon herself was nothing of import. She was strange and unrefined and, to be honest, deeply disconcerting to him in a number of ways. It was the thing lurking beneath it all that caught his attention. There was something going on between that girl and the Radio Demon and Lucifer didn't trust either of them. He may have thought Charlie's dreams to be in vain, known from his own experience how fruitless her project would turn out to be, but that didn't stop him from doing what it took to keep his little girl safe.

Lucifer sidled up beside the girl where she stood, watching the carnage Alastor wreaked with a vague sense of disinterest.

"So, you have a deal with the Radio Demon."

It was a statement, not a question. It was an accusation. Y/n shot into the air in surprise, not having noticed his presence beside her. With wide, analytical eyes, she turned to face him.

"With Alastor?"

"Yep."

"How could you tell?" she asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"What are you two planning."

Another subtle command that went right over Y/n's head. She sighed, crossing her arms.

"I'm planning world destruction. He wants me to be his wife again and tricked me into this whole..." she waved her hands wildly through the air, "situation."

Lucifer didn't know whether to laugh or to take her out right there. Instead, he shook his head, opting to state in mild shock:

"Married? Again?"

"Yeah. I forced him to when we were alive so people would leave me alone and I'd have some human test subjects for my work. Let me tell you: not my favorite experiment I have ever conducted."

"I..." Lucifer was flabbergasted, struck into silence.

"So he tricked me into a deal. I was hiding from him for decades down here. One little slip up was all it took." she playfully used her hair to hit the side of her head, "Stupid Y/n."

"Where does the again part fit in?"

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"Really? Why is that the part I have to explain to everyone. I mean, logically, it just doesn't make sense. That should be the question on the bottom of someones list. It shouldn't even be a question."

"Did you get a divorce?"

"In 1930? No. Even I knew that wasn't really an option. I married him to stop people talking, not start it. Besides, he wasn't this much of a bother when we were alive."

"So..." Lucifer prompted after a moment.

"Till death do us part?"

"Ah."

He really did laugh now. Just a light chuckle. Y/n smiled in appreciation.

"There you go. Now, how did you know? About the deal, I mean. Also, why do you guys hate each other so much? I thought you had never met before? And oh! Ohohoh! Also, can I have some of your hair."

Lucifer scoffed, his arms falling loosely from where he had crossed them over his chest to his sides. Charlie had been right, Y/n certainly was odd.

"My hair?"

Y/n nodded her head eagerly. When he gave no response, a concentrated and slightly confused expression flitted across her face. As if struck by a sudden inspiration, she regained her composure once again.

"Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to say 'please' when I ask for stuff. Al always said it was proper manners but I think its just a waste of time to be perfectly honest. It's still the same request, the same outcome. Doesn't really change anything. Why would one word make someone give a totally different answer? I mean, it's just foolish really. Anyway," she cleared her throat, "can I please have some of your hair?"

"I..." Lucifer raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples, "why?"

"Because you're a fallen angel?" Y/n replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "And I want to see what that means?"

Before Lucifer could reply, Alastor stepped back into the lobby, straightening his jacket.

"What a show!" Angel exclaimed, applauding dramatically.

Alastor tipped his head to the side in recognition, his eyes surveying the room. When they fell on Lucifer and Y/n in the corner, his gaze hardened. Y/n payed the commotion no mind. Lucifer, on the other hand, grinned.

"I have a proposal." he hummed, turning back to Y/n.

She narrowed her eyes in sudden doubt.

"You don't like Alastor very much, do you?"

"No...? Of course I don't!" Y/n replied in exasperation, "All he does is keep me from doing my work and drag me around by that stupid chain like a dog. It hurts my neck and..." her voice grew softer and she looked away, fixing her eyes on her interlaced fingers, "and I feel like he's trying to force me into the shape of something I'm not. It's... it's like wearing shoes that are four sizes two small on a twenty mile hike."

Lucifer laughed.

"Well, that certainly is... descriptive. How about we make a deal?"

Her head shot up, her narrowed eyes meeting his once again.

"You're not going to just take my soul like he did, are you?"

"No, of course not my dear. Only lesser demons like him need to do that in order to feel strong, to maintain some sort of power, to get what they want." Lucfier enunciated the last four words sharply, the syllables like needles, "I'm simply offering an exchange."

"That's what he said too."

Lucifer raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

"Look, we don't even have to shake on it. I will give you some of... some of my hair or... whatever... and you will help me get on his nerves, take him down a notch. Who the Hell knows, that might even help you too."

Y/n was silent in thought for a moment. She did want the hair and messing with Alastor seemed all too appealing. Still, there was something eating away at her.

"Would you..." she lifted herself up to Lucifer's eye level with her hair.

Y/n wasn't that much shorter than the king of Hell, just a couple inches. Those couple inches certainly made a difference. Lucifer could have sworn there was a literally electrical spark in the darkness of her eyes.

"You're powerful, yes? King of Hell and all?"

Lucifer nodded.

"Would you be able to help me figure out a way out of this mess?"

It was Lucifer's turn to think now as he mulled the idea over in his mind. Sure, theoretically he probably could but, he had never tried to break another demon's deal and even past that, he didn't know if he wanted to. Y/n was disarming, strange, had mentioned wanting to destroy the world. Lucifer didn't know her well enough to gage if there was any real risk and Alastor seemed to have her on more than a metaphorical leash.

"Maybe." he admitted, deciding on the path of least resistance, the one where he could try and succeed or pretend it was an unknown impossibility all along, "I don't know."

In some strange way, there was something stable about the man before her. Alastor was unpredictable, had sent her life spinning. Lucifer felt safe.

"Good enough for me!" Y/n smiled brightly, "I look forward to working with you."

---

Writing this made me really want to do a Lucifer fic with the idle hands thing.

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @marukun @nanami1chu @i-like-potatoes12533 @boogiemansbitch @apenasandorinha @almond-t0fu @mygoldtears @ahellborn @winterisholding @misty-melody @themetalbabygirl @trash-shoot @clarakainda @ladyscorpion19 @dasimp777 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever

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mysacredmuse · 2 months

Text

more about loser in love Aventurine <3 (hopefully this is more articulated, last thing I wrote was literally a 2 minute brainstorm with no coherency lol), kinda a mix of pre-relationship and loser in love bf Aventurine :3 of course, this is all lovingly and lighthearted :)

let me know if you'd like more or share your own thoughts! also, I want to write a bit about soft bf! Aventurine, biting my hands so hard not to do it here because . . . thoughts are too loud

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

Panics with no filter as soon as you are out of his sight. You could be walking down the street together when suddenly something catches your attention making you quickly run away from him. Aventurine will literally freeze for a moment, anxious eyes looking for you as the only thing that slips past his lips is "where are you? where did you go?" as he turns his head around hoping for the best. As he finally spots you, a huge sigh of relief leaves his body. He would scold you with such seriousness, how dare you leave him behind without a word? He isn't a babysitter to watch your every move, so try and behave!

As soon as you reply to him, explaining that you don't need a babysitter, fully capable of taking care of yourself and that he is just an overreacting drama king...he just gasps. How dare you ruin his only method of making himself seem semi-normal? Anyhow, he ignores your rationality and the fact you are not dependent on him in a way that he is on you, in the process making a new decision - as this happens...a lot, he decides to use it as an oppprtunity and a lame excuse for you to hold his hand every time you go out together.

He tries to act like it's not a big deal, but internally he is all over the place as the two of you walk holding hands. (he will get teased for this years later)

He is also a needy for attention type of loser with no personal space who texts you all the time. When he isn't texting, he would call you anytime he can, which seems to be a lot. Even if there is nothing to have a conversation about, he is just asking the same questions...over and over again.

"so, what are you doing?"

"mhm, have you eaten?"

"how are you feeling?"

"mhm, is there anything new going on?"

"mm, sooooo, what are you doing?"

"that sounds fun! anyways, do you miss me?"

You can swear that he kicks his feet anytime you talk over the phone or text. But when you explain to him that you don't have to talk to each other all the time, he is slightly offended and sassy. What do you mean by that? Are you bored of him? Is he simply not worth your time anymore? Fine...he will stop doing it so much. . .for about 2 hours perhaps (his personal record! are you proud?) and then he will continue in his old ways.

Don't be mistaken, he does understand that you need your own time and if you put up a genuine boundary he will certainly respect it. It's just that when it's more playful and chill time, he uses it to the fullest because he is a needy man.

Bonus: Aventurine loves sending you videos that remind him of you or the two of you, especially those little cute animals videos where they cuddle, the little art videos and those adorable encouraging pics (definitely not a loser for this, just thought it was cute as hell)

Bonus 2: anytime you send him a picture of yourself, he puts it as his background. Replies "screaming crying throwing up, pls one chance pls pls pls", somehow you manage not to take it seriously which makes him even more desperately in love

Bonus 3: he saves your contact by some silly, yet cute nickname while adding 50388383 emojis and hearts (preferably the ones that are in your favorite color). He says it's a joke, but...but...well.

Desperate, pathetic, miserable, needy, so sickly in love, he absolutely NEEDS you. He can't take it.

Once you get more comfortable with each other, not even fully in a relationship, this man clings onto you like it's his last day alive. Wrapping his arms around your forearm, playing with your fingers if you are distracted, hugging you from behind anytime you stop walking (yes, even while waiting for a green light to cross the road), throwing his thigh over yours anytime you sit somewhere together, takes any chance to lay on your lap and begs you to play with his hair. He is the type of mess up something, get on his knees and hug your legs until you forgive him. He is also the type to do that...for no reason at all actually. Simply because he wants attention and he loves being close to you.

Anytime he has to go and do something by himself, you can tell how pissy he is afterwards. He walks up to you with an evident disappointment and annoyance on his face, quickly grabbing your hand as he mutters how idiotic it is to have to use the toilet. Let's not even mention when he needs to be by himself for longer periods of time.

Speaking of that, he would also question whether you missed him or not after 2 minutes of separation. You sure did? Hm, is that sarcasm? He doesn't care, he will take it as long as it confirms it. He just wants you to miss him and need him as much he misses and needs you.

Bonus (not really a loser): Now, in a relationship, Aventurine needs you to have eyes for him only as he does for you. Only him and nobody else. He wants you to want him, he needs you to need him and he must feel the desire and love you have for him. He mentions multiple times, you can do whatever you want with him however you want, if you wish to use him as a plaything for a while - he is perfectly okay with that, but the one rule he has is to be your only plaything. His desperation comes cute in certain departments, however...there is a lot of work awaiting in order to teach this man what is a healthy relationship.

He actually confesses his love for you properly when he gets sick. A mild cold, slight fever - should be gone in a few days, if not less. But no! He is certain that this is the end. Immediately sends you tons of panicky messages how you need to come see him immediately. So you do, first time taking him quite seriously.

Only to be met with his red stuffy nose twitching as he tries not to sneeze in the middle of his confession. He is so serious and determined that it makes a laugh stuck in your throat as he slowly explains himself, barely able to take deep breaths, not even looking at you. Talking about all the memories, the feelings, the thoughts he ever had with or about you.

"The only thing that I regret is that I am doing this too late."

He is so melodramatic, coughing loudly afterwards as he finishes up his actually heartwarming confession.

You can't help but giggle at the man in front of you, gently urging him to lay down, not exactly replying to his confession yet, but only mentioning how you will make him some soup and tea. He just nods, a bit exhausted from the all-nighter he pulled to come up with his excellent (miserable) confession. Next thing you know, he is fast asleep, hand mindlessly reaching for yours and as soon as he finds it - he brings it to his chest, almost hugging it. Moments like these are very special to you as he becomes more vulnerable and more himself. He will certainly get your own confession as soon as he gets better and least to say, you are the one to make the full first move since he is just...in shock the whole time. But, that's something to unpack some other time.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x yn #aventurine fluff #aventurine x reader fluff #hsr fluff #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines

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lilacgyuvin · 2 months

Text

out of my league — k. gyuvin

pairing: nerd!gyuvin x popular!gn!reader

synopsis: it’s valentine’s day! what better way to confess to your longtime crush (and the highschool’s most popular student) than with a letter shoved through their locker. just don’t let jiwoong find out.

wrd count: 6.3k (DAMN OKAY BITCH!!!)

warnings: highschool!au, slight hurt/lots of comfort, bully!jiwoong (srry someone had to do it), bullying, one km s joke, reader isn’t a bully, eunseok of riize sneak, jiwoong is really mean 😭 a little crack, funeral talk, not to be taken seriously this is fiction!!

a/n: yk i had to write smth with valentine’s day coming up!! i lobe gyuvin gyuvin pls be my valentine pls plsplspls

“I put a note in their locker.”

It probably wasn’t the best sentence starter, which Gyuvin realizes only after Taerae starts to choke on his strawberry soda mid-chug. Despite his eyes practically bulging out of his head paired with a boisterous gasp amidst hearing Gyuvin’s doings, Eunseok reaches a lending hand out to his suffocating friend’s back.

“You what?!” Eunseok screams in a hushed tone, despite being the only three occupants of the classroom. If Gyuvin didn’t think it was a stupid idea then, well, he certainly does now. He honestly wasn’t going to tell anyone at first; the embarrassment mixed with the fear of rejection almost made him drop the whole plan as a whole. However, binging 3 romance dramas back to back gave him the confidence he’d never thought he’d have otherwise if it weren’t for the male leads and their suave ways, which is what leads him to where he stands today: sending a confession letter to his longtime crush which also ended up being the cause of his friend’s premature death. Thanks, Choi Woong!

Taerae unfortunately survives his cough attack and uses his regained ability to breath properly to discourage Gyuvin’s efforts even more. “Jiwoong’s gonna kill you man.”

Yes, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear right now. He decides against answering with sarcasm and opts out to rolling his eyes as hard as he can at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-named.

“He didn’t see me put it in,” He certainly didn’t, and Gyuvin knows this because he showed up an hour earlier than normal to slip the note in, partly to avoid Jiwoong and to also beat his inevitable numerous contenders. “Plus, they’re not even dating. They don’t like him.”

Eunseok and Taerae share a glance. They look back at Gyuvin. “Did they tell you that.”

Gyuvin’s starting to get tired of rolling his eyes. Of course they didn’t tell him that, they’re nowhere near close. While they’ve coexisted in the same space for the past four years, their friend groups are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum. They’re admired by everyone, in numerous clubs, and is practically known by the whole school. The only club Gyuvin’s a part of is the Epic Gamers Club™ held at Eunseok’s house every other day. And as far as being admired goes…

“Yo. Gyuvin.”

Oh fuck, it’s so over. Gyuvin is going to die. What’s-his-face is here and Gyuvin is going to die, all because he couldn’t confess to his crush like a normal person. How did Jiwoong even see him? It’s not like he handed the letter to them in plain sight, and there’s no way in hell Jiwoong showed up to school an hour early.

Well, none of that matters anymore. Jiwoong is now walking into the once peaceful confines of the classroom, his goons right behind him, and Gyuvin’s about to meet his end.

All he asks is that Y/n is at his funeral.

Despite coming into the classroom for Gyuvin, Jiwoong is kind enough to make time to mess around with his friends first. Wedging himself in between the three desks facing each other, Jiwoong snatches Taerae’s glasses off his face and tosses them to the floor, and at the same time shoves Eunseok’s tuna mayo kimbap out of his hands. So much for escaping the lunch room.

After watching his friends scramble for their discarded items, Jiwoong turns his back to them in favor of facing Gyuvin, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

Kim Jiwoong: The entire school’s boy crush and simultaneously Gyuvin’s worst nightmare. Going into high school, Gyuvin didn’t think he’d have problems with anyone, his plan was simple: make a decent amount of friends, stay in the honors program so he can get into his dream university, and best his all-time score in Super Smash Bros Ultimate. Oh, and get into his first relationship (since the girl he ‘dated’ in the second grade didn’t count, according to Taerae).

He guesses he strived too hard at the second thing though, as in their freshman year Jiwoong was left at second place in their classes overall academic ranking, and Jiwoong was never second.

Ever since then, Jiwoong has tried everything to sabotage Gyuvin’s grades, which ended in failure each time. So, he just stuck to messing with him. Now Gyuvin wouldn’t really mind if he had got reprimanded for his actions, but he gets away with it— every time. Sneaking slaps upside his head when passing him through the halls, pushing and tripping him during gym, and ‘accidentally’ spilling his drink onto his uniform (which is what initiated classroom lunches amongst him and his friends in the first place): he got away with it all, for four damn years. All because of that facade he puts up in front of everyone. With his perfect grades combined with his charm, he’s adored by students and faculty alike— all but the few who were unfortunate enough to be victims of his ridiculing, Gyuvin included.

The devil himself opens his mouth once again. “I haven’t seen you in a while, you hiding from me?” His smirk forms into a smile, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it holds the same sinister tone as his previous expression did.

Gyuvin looks up at him, disdain hidden behind the neutral shield he’s learned to master in favor of avoiding a swift blow to the face (not that it ever stopped Jiwoong from landing one, anyway). “No.”

At that, Jiwoong’s smile drops, his eyebrows furrow in fake confusion and he starts to look around the empty room. “But… you’re having lunch. In an empty classroom. When there’s a perfectly good cafeteria waiting for you downstairs.” Jiwoong’s friends snicker by the door as he leans down to be eye level with Gyuvin. “Don’t you find that rude, Gyuvin? The staff make sure the cafe is cleaned spotless for scum like you to eat, and you’re eating in the classroom?”

Literally what the fuck is he even talking about. It isn’t uncommon for students to eat in the classrooms, and he knows this because Jiwoong’s literally done it before. It’s in that moment that he realizes Jiwoong just came in here to mess with him, which means he doesn’t know about the letter which means that he won’t die today. Looks like he’ll live to see another day after all!

His newfound happiness isn’t long lived, as in the span of one second, Gyuvin blinks and his food is nothing but a pile of solids and liquids on the classroom’s floor.

Jiwoong gives him a mean snare, despite the fact that all of Gyuvin’s attention is to his now germ-infested food. “And now look, you made a mess.”

Gyuvin can barely hear him and his friends laughing with the way his ears are ringing— no, practically blaring throughout his head. His bulgogi over rice is on the floor. His fucking bulgogi over rice, the last of its kind (as his mom let him have the last of the leftovers), is now nothing but a concoction of soggy meat and rice sautaed with his strawberry milk.

Usually, Gyuvin would be the bigger person and walk away; he’d shut his mouth, clean up the mess, and go about his day. But for some reason, he doesn’t feel like being the mature one today. Maybe it’s the never ending grating laughter coming from his friends, maybe it’s because he’s tired of Jiwoong pushing him around, or maybe it’s just because his mom’s bulgogi is the best bulgogi, and now he can’t have any, all because Kim Jiwoong was bored.

Without a second thought, Gyuvin rises from his chair, lifting his arms to push at the chest of an unexpecting Jiwoong, who stumbles onto the desks of Gyuvin’s friends behind him (he’ll apologize to them for that later). Jiwoong unfortunately finds his footing rather quickly, and doesn’t waste a second as he roughly grabs Gyuvin by the collar, dragging him to the nearest wall and slams him against it. “You fucking crazy? Huh?!”

Those dramas must be really getting to me, Gyuvin thinks. It becomes obvious when he doesn’t shut his mouth after Jiwoong’s question. “Fuck you, Jiwoong.”

He doesn’t even mean to spit in his face, but it happens when he speaks, and he can feel his past self crying tears of joy. He’s been wanting to do this for four years. Maybe the bulgogi sacrificed itself for this very moment. Thanks, Bulgogi. I’ll never forget you.

Jiwoong dryly laughs, lolling his head to the side like the psycho he is. “Yeah, you’ve clearly lost your mind. I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Okay, remember when Gyuvin thought he was free from begging murdered and would live to see another day? He’s starting to think he spoke too soon.

It’s like things are moving in slow motion; Jiwoong releasing a hand on his collar in favor of making a fist angled straight at Gyuvin’s nose, his friends standing from their seats in dreadful anticipation, and the swift breeze that comes from the door being swung open.

“Leave him alone, Jiwoong.”

Ah, his guardian angel.

In less than a millisecond, Jiwoong’s vice grip on Gyuvin’s collar is released, and the fist ready to knock him out is lowered to his side. A deep sigh escapes his throat before he turns to the agitated student. “Go back downstairs, Y/n. This is nothing.”

Gyuvin almost laughs wholeheartedly at Jiwoong’s weak attempt to redirect them. As if he could get them to do anything he said.

Y/n cooks their head to the side, which in Gyuvin’s book is a telltale sign that they’re about to read the fuck out of Jiwoong. “Yeah, it was nothing, until you decided to come in here and bother them for literally no reason. Do you seriously have nothing else better to do?”

Gyuvin can feel an amused smile crawling onto his face as he watches Jiwoong scramble to find an excuse. Seeing Jiwoong try his hardest not to physically deflate in front of his friends would never get old.

And neither would his good-boy facade, apparently! Despite being caught in the act by Y/n for the millionth time, Jiwoong still attempts to save face by pulling out the puppy eyes plucked from the deepest pits of Hell, paired with the fakest apologetic look Gyuvin’s ever witnessed, and turns to be face to face with Y/n, caressing their arm in what he thinks is a comforting gesture. “Come on, don’t be like that. What, you want me to apologize?”

“Yes.”

Like he’s just heard he’s due to get castrated tomorrow morning, his hand’s cease the petting motion and Jiwoong does a double take. “You serious?” He looks into their eyes for any signs of humor behind them (which is stupid for issuing an apology, Gyuvin thinks), and when he doesn’t find any, he drops the act faster than Gyuvin can say ‘COD sucks’ and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out the loudest groan known to man. “Oh my- fine.” Jiwoong looks to his right, locking eyes with him, “Sorry for knocking over your piece of shit lunch, Gyuvin.”

Piece of— his mom’s bulgogi?! Of course Jiwoong wouldn’t know the significance the lunch held for Gyuvin, but he wouldn’t care anyway, so Gyuvin breaks eye contact and rolls his eyes as far into his head as humanly possible.

Gyuvin, now making his way to his book bag to retrieve napkins for his late lunch on the floor, can’t see the look of disbelief on Jiwoong’s face, but he sure can hear it. “What, you’re not gonna accept my apology?”

Gyuvin doesn’t stop fetching for the tissues even when he hears Jiwoong’s footsteps approaching him, and neither does he stop when they come to a halt. “He doesn’t have to do anything,” When he finally retrieves the napkins, Y/n is at his side on the floor, grabbing the empty plastic bag on his desk. “Now if you aren’t going to help clean up, then leave.”

Jiwoong furrows his eyebrows. “You don’t need to help them, Y/n.”

“I also don’t have to meet with you at the cafe after school.”

Oh, Gyuvin knows that one hurt. Everyone knows Jiwoong’s been dying to ask Y/n out for a while now (mostly because he’d never shut up about it), and boy was Gyuvin right. He stumbles over his words as he raises his arms before dropping them. “Come on, Y/n. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Despite the obvious hurt in his voice, they don’t even spare him a glance, focusing on the mess in front of them. “..So? We’re not dating, take Minjeong or something.”

A beat of silence passes, and he thinks Jiwoong died of embarrassment until a scoff erupts from his throat. Okay, there was no way Gyuvin would miss out on seeing Jiwoong’s face after getting rejected before he could even confess, so he raises his head and fully suspects Jiwoong to be sulking or something. He was so wrong. When Gyuvin looks up, Jiwoong is staring right at him, his eyes holding nothing but disdain and revulsion. Wow, Gyuvin thinks, if this is how he reacts to them just simply helping me, what’s he gonna do when they accept (which they hopefully will) my confession? He’d rather not think about that right now actually, and he doesn’t have to any longer, as Jiwoong turns on his heels and makes his way out of the classroom, his goons behind him, but not before mumbling a parting gift for Gyuvin. “Fuckin’ freak.”

So original. Anyway, Gyuvin’s just glad he doesn’t have to deal with him for the rest of the lunch period. His friend’s are quick to his side, and he reassures them that he’s fine. “I’ll go get more napkins.” Eunseok nods and rises from the floor, and is halfway through the door before he stops when he realizes Taerae isn’t behind him.

He cranes his head to the side, and from the corner of his eye he can see Taerae still at Gyuvin’s side. Unbelievable. “Um, Taerae.” He raises his head to his friend standing, and doesn’t get the hint until Eunseok is nudging his head towards the hallway in a ‘get-the-fuck-out’ sorta way.

He looks between Gyuvin and Y/n before his whole body straightens, finally getting up from his crouching position. “Oh! Um, yeah. I’m going to get napkins too.” While Taerae walks towards his other friend, Gyuvin raises his head, and Eunseok gives him a thumbs up in support. It’s in that moment that Gyuvin decides pizza’s gonna be on him at tonight’s Epic Gamers Club™ meeting.

A beat of silence passes, only the sounds of his poor lunch being scooped up into the bag are heard, until Gyuvin musters the courage to start the conversation.

“Thanks for helping me.” He doesn’t have to stop his task to know that they’re smiling. “Of course, I’m sorry about him.” They say in a remorseful tone.

Gyuvin hates the way they apologize on Jiwoong’s behalf, but at the same time he can’t help the way their kindness makes him feel all warm and gooey inside— They're just too good for this world. “You don’t have to apologize for him. You’re not his babysitter.”

His last comment seems to make Y/n laugh. ‘Huh, I’m just funny like that, I guess’ (It’s what he’s thinking, but his friends would agree to disagree.) “It sometimes feels that way.”

Gyuvin hesitates to ask his next question; they’re not exactly close, but he’s been feeling all sorts of confident recently, so he does anyway. “Why do you hang out with him? With them?” ‘Them’ being the rest of Jiwoong’s posee who think they’re hot shit; being all types of mean to other students just because of their looks or their parents’ social statuses. Gyuvin doesn’t think he hates anything more than a snobby rich asshole, which is what induced Gyuvin’s question in the first place, because Y/n isn’t a snobby rich asshole, yet they hang out with a group of them. It’s a question he’s been dying to ask for years now, and all it took was for Jiwoong to fuck up his lunch. Gyuvin almost mentally thanks him, but he barfs in his mouth a bit just thinking about it.

A few seconds pass, and it seems like they’re trying to find an answer to the question themselves. A nervous sigh passes through their lips as they wipe at the strawberry milk staining the floor. “Well, I guess I just fell into it? The friend group, I mean. When I first transferred, I thought they were really nice. At least they treated me that way. I don’t know why.”

‘Because you’re smart and all types of talented and you’re fucking gorgeous’ and a thousand other things is what Gyuvin wants to say, but he keeps his thoughts to himself and lets them continue. “But yeah, they’d always push me to hang out with them, and I guess by the time I realized who they truly were, everyone had already established their friends groups.” At this point is where they ran out of napkins and there was still a bit of the mess left over, so the two sit across from each other, leaning on the legs of the desks behind them. Despite loving the alone time they’re getting, Gyuvin hopes Eunseok and Taerae come back with more tissue soon, or else he’d have to explain the mess to his teacher, thus taking the fall for Jiwoong once again. His sulking that came from just thinking about the possibility is interrupted when Y/n speaks again, in a more hushed tone this time. “I guess I’m just scared of being alone.”

Woah, Gyuvin’s never thought of it that way. Having no friends was a valid fear, hell, Gyuvin felt that way before he met his. He can’t imagine how it would affect Y/n. The school’s most popular student: a loner— they’d never hear the end of it.

He hates that they feel like they need to hang out with pieces of shit to avoid being lonely, when that isn’t the truth at all. As delusional as it may sound, Gyuvin is right here. Who cares if they don’t have similar interests? They can introduce each other to all their different hyper fixations and special interests. And so what if they’re from seemingly different worlds? Gyuvin would swim across all the oceans and walk over thousands of miles if it meant getting to be with Y/n. Every time they’re paired to work on an assignment together, whenever they congratulate him on yet another academic achievement, when Y/n spots him in the hallway and stops to talk to Gyuvin and only Gyuvin. It never gets old, his heart beating a million times over with how kind and effortlessly funny and drop dead gorgeous they are. Fuck, he thinks, I don’t know if I’ll be able to go on if they reject me.

Gyuvin never wants them to feel alone, he needs to let them know that such a thing can never happen. He can tell his silence goes on longer than expected with the way they start to nervously fiddle with the edges of their uniform sleeves. He says it before he can think about it for another second. “You don’t have to be alone. I-I know we’re not close, but you can talk to me.”

With the speed in which their head lifts from their fixed view on the ground, Gyuvin doesn’t know if he’s successfully swooned them or if he effectively fucked up his chances at being anything to them. He needs to save face, so he raises his hands in defense, his eyes widening in pure fear. “O-only if you want to! Like. Just in case you felt like it or whatever.” Yeah, it totally wouldn’t put me into anaphylactic shock if you were to seek me out in any way shape or form!

Gyuvin lowers his hands, leans back on the legs of the desk, and watches as Y/n’s expression transforms from one of shock, to pure adoration. Their eyes soften in a way Gyuvin’s never seen before, and if he were to look a little closer, he swears there are tears swimming at the brim of them, threatening to fall.

‘FuckifImadeY/ncryI’mgonnaenditall’ is the one thought running through Gyuvin’s head as he waits for a response. He isn’t joking either— he’s sorry to his loved ones and all that, and he supposes the Epic Gamer Club™ would have to go on an indefinite hiatus with the emotional trauma it’d leave on his friends. He wonders if his dog would be brought to his funeral?

Turns out he won’t have to plan out his funeral arrangements after all, that becomes clear when a warm smile meets their eyes, and the tears dwindle to a glassy thin layer over their eyes. “I’d love to. Thank you, Gyuvin.”

Oh Gyuvin thinks his heart just exploded, but like, in a good way. A love explosion, if you will. He doesn’t waste a beat before he’s sporting a smile of his own, sitting straighter than before. “Anytime.”

His friends aren’t back, the period isn’t over yet, and he doesn’t want to stop the conversation there. So, he talks about the thing that’s been plaguing his mind for the past week. “I saw your locker. You got a lot of letters.”

Y/n laughs bashfully at the mention of the hundreds- no, thousands of letters they received today. When they arrived at school, they opened their locker and was bombarded with a sea of pink and red cards that practically drowned them, and by the time second period rolled around, their desk was stuffed to the brim with even more advances in the form of candies and cute plushies. “Yeah, I haven’t even gotten to a single one yet! I’ll do it before school ends, though. I’m glad people like me enough to get me things.”

They’ve got to be kidding. The spring semester of freshman year was absolutely rocked by the wave that was Y/n’s arrival. Despite coming from a normal, middle class family, they were quick to rise in popularity. At first, it had just been their beauty that seemed to draw everyone in, but as soon as they were able to showcase their physical and academic skill, along with their endless heaps of kindness, they became more than just a pretty face, and the whole student body can testify to that. Unfortunately, by the 4th day into the new semester Jiwoong and his loser-ass friends had already sunk their claws into Y/n and scooped them up before any other group could. But yeah, anyone who doesn’t love Y/n is crazy and is probably most definitely going to hell.

‘I hope you read mine.’ It’s at the tip of his tongue, he’s straightening his posture to sit taller and ask them with his whole chest, and—

“More napkins!” is the opener Taerae decides to go with as he and Eunseok barge into the confines of the classroom. “Uhh sorry we took so long, we were arguing about…” he turns to Eunseok who just shrugs his shoulders before turning back to the two. “.. who the strongest avenger is.”

Gyuvin wants to roll his eyes, partly because they couldn’t have come up with a lamer excuse even if they tried, they unknowingly sabotaged his unplanned confession, and cause the strongest avenger is obviously Scarlet Witch.

He decides against it, rather locking eyes with Y/n who he finds is already staring at him, and they exchange equally bashful smiles. Gyuvin isn’t mad at his friends, not when they invade his and Y/n’s space to help clean the last of the mess, and not when they use the rest of the lunch period to bombard them with questions like, ‘have you read kimetsu no yaiba?’ and ‘where would you go if a zombie apocalypse broke out?’ (they answered with staying in Seoul, which prompted Taerae to blatantly tell them they’re going to die, which in turn earned himself a slap from Gyuvin).

He isn’t mad because he still has a chance: today, at 3:00 in room 124 after school like his letter specified. He hopes, some way, that through the piles of letters and candies and plushies and whatever the hell else, they somehow recognize Gyuvin’s from the crowd, and pick him.

It’s time.

It’s time, and Gyuvin’s got it all figured out: Although school’s ended 45 minutes ago, he knows Y/n is part of the cooking club, so he isn’t keeping them behind or anything. He used that time to run to the flower shop a few minutes away and get them their favorites along with a stuffed animal. The classroom he initiated the meeting place in was one that was barely used by students, let alone teachers, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Oh! And it’s on the first floor, so if Jiwoong happened to find out about his advances and decided to sabotage him with his friends, then he could jump out the window without sustaining any injuries.

Gyuvin’s got it all figured out, so why’s he practically shitting bricks right now?

There are a lot of reasons really— the main one being the fear of rejection which he’s afraid he’ll never be able to live down which will lead to him maybe most certainly doing something drastic.

But it’s 2:58, two minutes before Gyuvin’s letter says for them to meet, and he has to pull himself together. He decides pacing around the room a billion times isn’t gonna do the trick, so he opts out to sitting on the teacher’s desk instead, setting the flowers and plushie behind him. He pulls out his phone and at the same time receives a text from Eunseok.

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)>: let us know how it goes 🫡 also please don’t die today

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)>: taerae brought danganronpa and you know how he likes to voice the lines aloud. you’re nagito we need you

Along with Taerae’s ridiculous gaming antics, Gyuvin finds it amusing how Eunseok also thought about the possibility of Jiwoong finding him out, and it makes him laugh, somewhat calming his nerves down. It’s comforting to know that if this confession doesn’t end up going well, he’ll at least have his friends to fall back on.

“What’s so funny?”

The sudden voice echoes through the empty classroom and Gyuvin almost lauches his phone through the ceiling with the way he jumps.

His heart drops a million times over and he nearly passes out, but he doesn’t, as an angel was sent before him. The angel, if you will.

Standing by the now closed door was Y/n, the sun cascading over their skin to only amplify the seemingly everlasting glow on their face. The same tender smile that they gave Gyuvin a few hours earlier was back, and he looks down and—

They’re holding his letter.

Out of the swarm of all the pinks and reds, through the heart-shaped candies and the softest plushies, none of them are in sight but Gyuvin’s. Gyuvin’s, with the stupid Evangelion washi tape on the side preventing the envelope from falling open after he accidentally ripped it, the one with animal crossing stickers plastered every which way because Y/n mentioned the game once, the one with emoticons drawn on by Gyuvin himself in hopes of standing out in the sea of letters: it was in the grasp of Y/n’s hands, fiddling with the edges as they approach Gyuvin in what to him feels like slow motion.

He honestly feels like he could cry. Oh shit, is he crying? Gyuvin sets his phone down to raise a hand to his cheek, which is thankfully dry, but the action brings him back to reality and he realizes that he’s been staring for longer than normal, so he manages to use the little breath he has left to muster what he can.

“You came.” It’s not much, but it’s the best he can do, and way better than just staring at them in pure silence.

“Of course I did.” They say it like it’s the most obvious thing ever, which only serves to throw Gyuvin off even more.

“But- what about everyone else?” What he really wants to say is ‘why me?’ Throughout the day he’d pass by their locker, their desks, even Y/n themselves; everyone seeking them out were more than worthy candidates. Whether it were their looks, their popularity, or the fact that they were confident enough to confess straight to their face— all of them were more worthy than Gyuvin could ever be. So why were they here, at 3:00 pm in room 124 like the letter read?

They shrug, a knowing smile plastered on their face. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah.” He opens his mouth, breathing in a handful of air before speaking again, “...I forgot what I was gonna say.”

It wasn’t a total lie! He was caught completely off guard, it was kinda expected to forget the speech he’s been practicing for weeks now. It doesn’t seem to phase Y/n though, for they simply shrug again, and begin to remove the letter from the envelope in their hand. “That’s okay. Maybe if we read your letter it’ll jog your memory.”

‘Dear Y/n,

I know we aren’t close, but you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. Please meet me in room 124 @ 3:00pm today, so that I can express my feelings in full.

— Kim Gyuvin’

It sounded like poetry when Gyuvin read it in his head, aloud in his room, and then to his mom for a second voice of opinion (she said he was better than Shakespeare, which went straight to his head). But now Gyuvin isn’t too sure how that made the final cut, he cringes a million times over when they read it out loud.

He scratches the back of his head and tries to hide his mortification as much as possible. “Sorry, I know that’s pretty vague..”

“It’s okay! You can say whatever’s on your mind, I’m all ears.”

Holy shit, this was really happening. He doesn’t know why, but he wasn’t expecting to get this far. Maybe he thought Y/n was too good for him, and he really did think about the possibility of Jiwoong finding him out, but none of that matters anymore— not when his dream come true is standing right in front of him, when they could be doing anything else right now and they decided to be with him. The fact that they’re even giving him the time of day is enough to fuel him with more confidence than those romance dramas ever could.

He stands up from the desk, and takes a deep breath. “I really like you Y/n, I have for a while now. You’re smart and funny and really pretty, and you’re always nice to me. I know we don’t like all of the same things, but that doesn’t bother me. I want to learn more about you, I want to learn everything about you. I hope you feel the same way, and if not, I understand. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we graduated without letting you know how I feel.” Without turning around, he reaches for the flowers and stuffed animal, trying his best to steady the nervous look creeping onto his face as he holds the items out between the two of them. “Please be my valentine! And then something more. If you wanted to.”

Gyuvin’s rant has finally come to an end, and he doesn’t realize they’re tearing up until he’s holding the items up for them to take.

Oh my God he’s seriously made Y/n cry, he’s got to end it now. It’s what he’s thinking until his personal space is being invaded by the warmth of the bone crushing hug Y/n has them in before Gyuvin can even apologize.

Despite their face being shoved into his chest, tears wetting his uniform vest, they still manage to muster a coherent response. “I’m glad you told me before graduation. Of course I’ll be your valentine.”

Wait, what? Gyuvin stiffens in their hold when he both realizes that he hadn’t returned their hug and that they said yes?! “Oh my God really? Wait. I’m sorry, I know this is what I like, wanted, but can I ask why?” their hold on Gyuvin releases a bit as he continues, “Is this just you being nice? Cause if so—”

In the span of two seconds, their warmth is gone, and Gyuvin can’t even sulk the lost feeling before he’s being punched in the arm. “Ow!”

Their tear stained face holds a look of offense, like Gyuvin just wronged their entire lineage. “You think I’m crying just to be nice?” Oh, he thinks, thats a good point. “I like you too, dummy. You’re really smart, and you never stoop to people like Jiwoong’s level whenever they bother you. Also, you get really cute when talking about your dog or those games you like.”

They actually listened to his stupid rants? How could he not blush at that? It spreads from his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears, and fails to go unnoticed by Y/n. “And when you blush. You’re just a big cutie.”

Oh Gyuvin’s having one of those love explosions again, but like, a million times worse. This can’t possibly be good for his health. In a poor attempt to hide his bashfulness, Gyuvin brings his hands up to cover his face, his words muffled by the makeshift shield. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening.”

And apparently Gyuvin’s suffering is funny? Because now they’re laughing, coming closer and raising their own hands to grab at Gyuvin’s wrists, successfully pulling them away from his face. “Don’t be shy now! You’ve come so far.”

They’re right, he has come so far. So why cower away now? He’s quite literally got them in the palm of his hands (or vise versa, he should say), and he’ll be damned if he lets them slip away now. With their hands now holding his wrists at their sides, Gyuvin doesn’t have half the mind to think before he’s leaning in, landing a feather-light peck to their lips. ‘Oh fuck, am I doing this right?’ It isn’t until now that Gyuvin remembers he’s never actually kissed anyone before, and panic follows quickly as he pulls away, their faces still mere inches away. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t really know what I’m—”

Their lips are suddenly on each other again, but it’s Y/n who initiates the kiss, and it's beyond better than Gyuvin’s. It’s light and refreshing, like how Gyuvin feels whenever they’re around. Their lips are as soft as their hands in his grip, and he can feel them smiling against his as they continue. He never wants to let go of this moment.

He ends up not minding when it does end though, for when they both pull away, Y/n finally lets his wrists go in favor of holding his face in their hands, which has Gyuvin practically melting into their touch. “If you apologize one more time, I’m going to punch you again.” They smile, despite having just threatened him.

Gyuvin doesn’t mind, though. They could hit him with the force of a hundred meteors, and he’d still forgive them. So he just smiles, basking in the warmth of their hands. “So, what’d you wanna do now?”

Y/n ponders for a moment, and perks up not long after. “Wanna go grab food?”

Oh, Gyuvin could cry. Y/n came straight from the cooking club, where they make full course meals that they get to eat at the end, so there was no reason for Y/n to be hungry. Yet Gyuvin’s lunch was ruined by what’s-his-face, and there was no way he wasn’t starving by now, and they remembered that.

He doesn’t wanna ruin the mood with his crocodile tears, so he sucks up his tears as much as he can, and smiles fondly instead. “Sounds perfect.”

Gyuvin’s still in a minor state of shock when they walk out of the school's doors. The person who he’s been pining over for the past four years likes him back, and they’re going on a date. Is this a date? He doesn’t want to ask, rather basking in the sun from both the sky and the one right next to him. He’s kind of worried that Jiwoong is gonna find out, but he can’t find it in himself to care all that much when his valentine is holding his hand as they make their way to the train station.

He takes note of their warning from earlier, but he has to ask. “Are you okay? Sorry for making you cry.”

Gyuvin’s ready to take a punch, but he’s lightly shoved instead, making the both of them lose their footing a bit before walking in tandem again. “It’s okay. And yeah, you’re just really sweet.” They turn to him and smile, squeezing his hand lightly. “Okay, let’s learn more about each other starting now. What kind of ramen do you like?”

“Wanna check out the new spot downtown and find out?”

Gojo’s boy toys (◕ε◕*)

3:40 pm

You: bros.

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : bro??

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : was that a good bros or a bad bros

You: we kissed

You: we’re going out for ramen now

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : ?$/;&/??@

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : BROOOOOO

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : omg i’m crying

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : gyuvin im crying

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : he is crying gyuvin

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : we’re so happy for you bro.

You: thanks guys 😄

i’ll still be home in time to play so

just sit tight

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : tell y/n i say sorry for saying they have zero survival instinct!!!

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : AND FUCK YOU JIWOONG

a/n: in no way am i implying that doing things like reading manga or playing smash bros is weird, i just took things that’ve gotten me called a nerd 😭😭 also being a nerd isn’t bad i love my nerds 🫡 stream beautiful monster stan p1h get get get get a guitar bai

#yall ngl i don’t watch romance dramas #so idk if that choi woong is a good guy fr #i just looked up male leads don’t come for me!!!#also eunseok is a good wingman bc he has a girlfriend. who is me. im his gf #ZHANGHAO OST SNEAK #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin x you #kim gyuvin x reader #zb1 x reader #zb1 x you #zerobaseone fanfiction #zerobaseone fanfic #zerobaseone x reader #eunseok fanfic #taerae fanfic #gyuvin fluff #gyuvin angst #zb1 fanfic #noelle.writes

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blakeswritingimagines · 8 months

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Closer than close

Summary: Not thinking of prince Aemond’s kindness toward you as you thought it was normal, quickly learning due to his attention that he in fact cares for you in a much different way even if you try to deter him.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 1.6k

Aemond spent months trying to get your attention and make you see him in a different light. He would approach you in the garden, or seek you out in the halls. He would find excuses to speak to you, even if it meant having the same conversation over and over again. When he thought he had found something to talk about, he would often come off as nervous, not making the impression he wanted. He also tried sending gifts, to show his appreciation but they were often left at your door, unopened.

He would often sit near the door to the servant’s chambers, waiting for you to catch his eye. Whenever he saw you, he would go out of his way to talk to you and try to engage you in conversation so he could end your night. He would occasionally surprise you with a small gift to show he was thinking about you, like flowers or a book that he thought you might like. He wanted you to know that he was thinking of you all hours in a day. When you tried to avoid Aemond, he made every effort to seek you out more even forcing others to tell him where you were. He would offer to take you on long walks, or to take you riding through the countryside, to show you how beautiful the world was when sharing it with someone you love.

Aemond had been trying for months, to no avail. You were obviously uninterested, but now he felt almost angry. He wanted you, and if he couldn’t have you, nothing else would satisfy him. He was tired of trying to win you over. He was tired of being kind and sweet only to get nowhere. He would take what he wanted. He approached you when you were busy doing chores, forcing a smile as he stood before you. “Hello, my love.” he crooned. You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair feeling tired but knew you couldn't stop and take a break due to not wanting to anger anyone further, taking a deep breath when you heard the same voice that had been trying to talk to you almost everyday now but turned as you looked up at him and nodded your head keeping your voice light and soft "Hello my prince, did you need something?". Aemond’s smile faltered for a moment, surprised by your cool demeanor. You seemed so unbothered by his attention. He quickly recovered, though, and looked into your eyes, his gaze lingering. “Can I walk with you?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle, as it had been every time. “I’ve something important I’d like to discuss with you.”

You softly sighed as you heard his words knowing you couldn't and shouldn’t deny him but spoke as you made it clear "I don't believe I can, your mother has given me more chores and I don't want to anger her by not doing them", you gave him a small smile trying to be nice since you didn't want to anger him anymore either but all you had seen since knowing the prince was hot/cold craziness instead of a real person which didn't help with the whole not trusting him. “Chores? But that can wait, surely.” Aemond was becoming frustrated. Of all the things his mother could have come up with, this is what was keeping you apart. Was there no way for you to be together? Could he just not have you for once? “It will not take long, please?” he begged you. “I need to talk to you privately. I promise.”

Knowing the chores were given to you for simply denying the prince but sighed as you heard his tone, knowing you didn't want too but slowly nodded your head as you wiped your hands on the skirt of your dress as you took a few steps closer to him "Very well your grace, how may I help you?" Having a feeling you knew where this was going but didn't know how much in the other direction he was planning on going to go. Aemond took a slow breath as he closed the distance between you both. When he had come to find you, he had felt angry and fed up with all the delay and resistance, but now his anger had softened to a sense of calm and determination. “I’ve something to tell you.” his voice was still calm and soothing. He had learned after all his attempts with you that anything else brought out your defenses. “I want you to know the way you make me feel.” he spoke softly.

You walked beside Aemond quietly as you both started walking through the gardens keeping your hands down by your sides, looking up at him as you listened to him talk before you sighed feeling as if you had heard everything but wasn't ready for all the details he was about to speak as you stopped and turned to face him thinking it was best to get it over with but felt shocked by his words that he had truly noticed so many little things about you. “Your kindness,” he spoke, his tone soft and sincere. “The way your eyes light up when you smile.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t keep this secret any longer, not when he felt like he was on the verge of exploding. “My thoughts are that you are beautiful beyond compare. You are kind, gentle, and a true angel straight from the heavens. I am enamored by your personality and your smile is the sweetest sight even if I am not the cause of it. You are like the bright ray of sunshine on a dim and dreary day. I love your very essence. I love your voice, your laugh, and your smell. I love every little thing about you, and the idea that you could one day be mine fills me with joy, warmth, and a true sense of peace. “I’ve dreamed of you…and of us…being together.”

Aemond was still gentle with his words, despite the fact that it was clear he had been holding them in for so long. You bit down on your lower lip as you listened to him as you found the words to be quite sweet, still curious as to why he went out of his way to act so crazy over certain things but gave him a small smile "That's very kind....May I ask you something my prince?". Aemond noticed that your eyes were full of curiosity, even after his confession. “Anything…” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly. He could not believe he had confessed his feelings. He had no idea what you were going to say in return. He had been trying to be his most polite self, and now he had shown his vulnerable side, something he never let anyone see.You let a sigh slip past your lips as you looked over to the flowers in the garden as you tried to find the right words before you softly spoke "Might I ask why you didn't say that in the beginning? why go out of your way to have me stop speaking to people, or doing certain things or when I can't give you attention or speak with you why you become so cold."

Aemond took a breath. You would certainly not enjoy the truth behind his actions, but it felt necessary. “Because it was the only way I thought I could make you notice me.” he whispered. He took you by both hands, his eyes begging for forgiveness and understanding. “I know it was stupid,” he said, “but the way I felt about you was far stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. I just wanted us to be together,” he added passionately. Aemond took a moment to consider your question. “I…I don’t know why it was my first thought truly,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I suppose I was afraid. Afraid that you would reject me. And when you spoke to other people, I felt that you were ignoring the feelings between us. I’m sorry. I don’t want to force anything. I just…would like an honest chance with you.” You felt as if you were at a loss for words. Aemond had touched your heart in a way you could never have imagined. When he spoke of his feelings for you, you felt butterflies in your stomach and warmth in your cheeks. The way he described you spoke directly to your heart. Your mind told you to run, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. Instead, you found yourself drawing closer to him. Aemond’s heart was racing. He couldn’t believe this was happening. All of his actions had paid off. You didn’t hate him, you were just afraid of him, that was all. He looked at you, and saw the same nervous excitement in your eyes that he felt in his chest. You must be feeling what he felt. His instincts were right.

You could feel how he felt about you. “Will you…give us a chance?” he spoke softly, closing the gap between you.You looked into his soft lilac eye as if trying to see if he was going to be fully honest or not but knew the truth due to how much he kept trying to get your attention, listening to his question as you kept your eyes locked on him even as he moved closer but spoke honestly as you tried to think clearly "I'm still not sure I'm sorry....but perhaps we can go slow?". “Slow?” Aemond’s voice was filled with hope. You had agreed to a chance, and Aemond would take it anyway he could. He moved his face closer to yours, your cheeks almost touching. Your lips were centimeters apart. He could feel your breath and the warmth of your skin. “I’ll do anything…” he whispered.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon aemond targaryen

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juyeonszn · 6 months

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JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #tbz changmin #tbz q #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin smut #changmin x reader #changmin smut #q x reader #q smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 10 months

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Chocolate & Movies

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Imagine: having period cramps is one of the worst things, but luckily you have a dad who knows what will help, or in other words Aaron Hotchner is the best father you could ask for

Warnings: period, period cramps, pain, you know normal period things (me writing this as a woman knowing full well most men don’t know what I actually mean), hotch being the best dad ever, hotch cuddles, hotch hugs, idk what more

A/N Me 🤝 writing fics for my own comfort

This is my first Criminal Minds fic so I hope I did ok, and if you have a request for Criminal Minds pls send them in

So I’m mainly writing this because my period cramps are worse than normal, and I can take a lot of pain before it gets too much, and my period cramps are usually bad, so thought why not write some comfort fic about it and here we are, this is for anyone who have period cramps so enjoy I guess, sorry that it’s short

Side note: I wanted to ad that this is what usually helps me I’m not saying it helps everyone

You knew you should’ve been up by now, but there was no energy in your body to do so. All your energy went to not cry out in loud sobs of pain. It felt like someone was stabbing knives into your stomach and twisting them around. Any position you tried made the excruciating pain worse. Even the thought of walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water to take with the medication caused the pain to spike up. Your nauseous state didn’t help nor the fact that it felt like you were going to faint as soon as you lifted your head up.

Jack had already left for school and you were supposed to be in your father’s car in ten minutes so that he could drive you to school. However if you had a say in the matter that would not be the case, if you got your will through you’d be at home the whole day wallowing in the pain you got once a month as you (in your dramatic words) bled out.

You were about to take your phone (not wanting to yell) to ask your father if you could stay home when you heard his voice yell out to you. “Y/N, we’re leaving in ten, you ready?” seconds later when he hadn’t gotten a response, your door swung open and the bright light from outside shined inside your once dark room. Your dad saw you laying on the bed and even if he wasn’t a profiler he would still have been able to see the pain that you were trying to hide from showing on your face.

Aaron’s face softened as concern washed over his expression the more he looked at you. He went over to your bed and crouched down, his hand going out in concern towards your forehead thinking you might have a fever and a headache at first, but you felt completely fine against his hand. “What’s wrong honey” he heard you take a deep breath before letting out some few mumbled words “period cramps, hurt a lot”

“You wanna stay home” Aaron noticed how you sighed in relief at his question, and was glad that he had understood the situation right. He got a nod from you and went out of your room to tell the school you weren’t coming in today. Not long after he was back to crouching beside your bed, this time caressing your arm softly.

“I have to go to work, but we won’t have a case for a while so you can come with me if you want, we can stop at the store on the way and get-“ he was cut of by a groan coming from you as you tried to once more not give in to the pain.

“Yeah I’d like to come with you if it means I get to cuddle with you, otherwise I’ll stay here”

“Go get ready, I’ll get you a glass of water for the meds, okay?” Hotch got another nod from you and he went out to leave you to get dressed, well as dressed as pajamapants and one of your fathers oversized hoodie was. You took the painkillers, your phone, charger, headphones and grabbed the coziest blanket you could find and went out to the car.

Not soon after you’d been to the store, bought a ton of chocolate and were now in your fathers office. Aaron had changed from working by the desk to sitting on the couch writing reports as you cuddled into him. Headphones on (as to not disturb your father from his work) as your comfort show was playing on your phone. A bunch of chocolate wrappers were spread around on the floor and desk.

And even later that day when you got home, Aaron cuddled with you as you watched movies and ate chocolate. A heat pad (is that what they are called, I literally have no clue, says the person who always uses them) laid across your stomach, which together with the warmth from your father relieved some of the pain. That along with the fact that Aaron’s hugs could always bring some of the pain away. Maybe it was a dad thing, you didn’t know but you were happy that your father was a great hugger, and that his hugs always made you feel okay.

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #Aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x teen!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #bau x teen!reader #period cramps is a bitch tho #Aaron hotchner x female!reader #Aaron hotchner x fem!reader

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saturncodedstarlette · 4 months

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Relationship dynamics w/ Gojo Satoru

[Responds slow as hell Satoru with Responds fast as hell S/O]

[Isn’t used to attention and compliments S/O with Satoru who overwhelms them with attention and compliments]

[The infamous golden retriever Satoru with Grumpy black cat S/O duo]

[“I can’t do this” S/O with “Yes, you can” Satoru]

[S/O who asks weird questions, Satoru would answers them anyways]

[“If I told you who I am, would you use it against me?” Satoru with “He tells me I’m pretty, don’t know how to respond” S/O]

[“Buggy!” s/o with “ah yes, a cicadellidae of the the Hemiptera orcler, also known as a leaf hopper—” Satoru]

[Sleeps a lot s/o (still tired) with lives on 1h of sleep Satoru (energetic) ]

[Really tall Satoru with stupid s/o]

[“shut the fuck up” s/o with “make me” Satoru]

[Satoru exists with s/o who’s obsessed with him] & vice versa

[Satoru that yapps with s/o who listens]

[silly Satoru with s/o who’s tired of his shit]

[Lazy s/o with lots of energy Satoru]

[Cat person Satoru with dog person s/o]

[say smth smart for once s/o with shocked Satoru]

[Cat person Gojo with cat personality s/o]

[filled with anxiety s/o with the calmest mf Gojo]

[“HELP WHY DO I LIKE U UGHH ILY SM TALK TO ME PLS ILY NOTICE ME YOU IDIOT—” s/o with an oblivious idiot Gojo]

[Loves gossiping & dramas Gojo with the s/o knows every latest tea]

[Normal human sneeze s/o with the dad sneeze Gojo]

[“haha” Gojo with “HAHAHAHA” s/o]

[the one who sends “u + me” pics s/o with automatically saves all of them Gojo]

[Nice to everyone s/o with menace to everyone (except you) Gojo]

[Silly Gojo with sillier s/o]

[lots of typos Gojo with s/o can read them fine]

[has big tits Gojo with s/o who likes big tits]

[always busy Gojo with s/o who has no life]

[always sleeping s/o with Gojo who waits for them to wake up]

[looks scary but actually silly s/o with looks silly but is dead inside Gojo]

#Jjk #jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu Kaisen x reader #Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x you #Some are from TikTok and Pinterest #I can never be original and creative ✌️#Relationship dynamics #jjk gojo satoru x reader #Tell me if u think this is worth expanding or should I just delete the whole thing #Gojo Satoru fluff #Gojo Satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #Gojo satoru dynamics #My 2023 works

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heyidkyay · 5 months

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Warnings: This is gonna deal with a lot of controversial shit surrounding Matty and his past I'm ngl, so if you're not into that then I'd suggest not reading this! But if you are, then hi!! I hope you enjoy?

Authors Note: I'm back...:)) Back with a series too, or it will be if this first part goes down well! Lmao so pls don't hate it! Butttt in all honestly, I do have to quickly thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for all the kind words she gave me on the snippets I annoyed her with recently and for forcing me to actually believe in this fic because I very much was on the fence about posting again. So thank youuuu, it means a whole lot<3 Also, the skeleton of this was taken from a very old fic of mine which I started during the height of covid that I've just been thinking about trying to better for a long while now, so... enjoy?

And I guess let me know if this is something anyone would want to read more of? Yeeeeah, I really don't know what else to write here now, it's been a while, so! Hi, help, bye:)

Masterlist

“Yeah, yeah! I’m really into their sound at the minute! Honestly fell in love with their recent performance at the VMA’s- didn’t overdo it and kept true to themselves. Definitely did a great job there, so well done with that one if you’re listening in, lads!”

I was grinning from ear to ear as I spoke into the microphone before me, which was to be expected whenever I was at work. Strange, yeah I know, but only to any typical person with the usual nine to five, because I truly did love my job. It was tough work, strenuous at times, contrary to what most might believe, but it was pretty much everything I’d ever dreamt of.

See, I’d grown up on the outskirts of this tiny village in the Isles, where everybody knew everything about everybody. Secrets were never well kept- you could just ask our local priest about that one, who had often used to regale most of the confessions he’d heard in the only pub around for miles whenever he was pissed beyond being able to sit on his barstool. And it was also incredibly tight-knit, as in, all the kids who went to school together, then grew up and married one another, settling down and taking over the jobs that their parents or grandparents soon retired from. Hardly anyone moved away, if ever.

In reality though, it was actually just a place I’d always felt like a stranger in. Where I’d struggled to fit in and make friends, to form bonds outside of the one I shared with my mum.

I’d had a tough go of it back in school actually. ‘Mouse’ was what they’d seemingly dubbed me back then, a nickname which had travelled the masses all too quickly seeing as there had only been about sixteen kids in both my year and the one above.

It had mostly been due to me just having been an extremely timid child, hiding behind my mum’s flowing skirts whenever we went into town and much preferring that of my own company. But that fact hadn’t gotten any easier for me once I’d been forced out of school for a few years after an accident that had flipped my entire life on its head. Resulting in me being further isolated from the rest of the world and my fuck-face of a father running for the hills.

Still. Shit happened, I supposed, and I’d been forced to grow up.

Too quickly, in truth.

So whilst everyone else had been out living, I’d been holed up in our little dove cottage miles away from them all, with only books and music to keep me company. Music which had been a true constant in my life and just about the only thing that had gotten me by.

As well as my mum, who’d forever be my rock. And back when we’d both been growing up, she had always had the tele on full blast throughout the day, cycling through the freeview channels that played the recent top 50 and old school classics.

It was one of my favourite things to look back on now, if she was ever in the mood, or when the power would finally flicker and go out completely, she’d spin this old phonograph her own father had gifted her in the days before she’d left home. The two of us would dance around the living room whilst she’d clean on Saturday mornings and then hum to it as we settled in for a long storm, her working on her trusty crossword whilst I would read or draw. It would croon out old French records she had bought long before she’d moved to the UK, and before she’d ever even met my dad.

And I would just lose myself in it all.

It wasn’t just the basic premise of music that I had enjoyed though, it was everything else that also came along with it. The opinions, the reviews, the personal stories and thoughts, the way it made a person feel.

So, for years I would just sit down at the kitchen table and write for hours on end about the sound, the rhythms I’d felt and heard, the lyrics that had had me bellowing out or playing on a never-ending loop in my head. And then, as a teen, Twitter had come along and had been just another way for me to express it all.

That was what had led to all this actually. The radio.

At first, I’d never paid much mind to all of the people who had started to discover the small page I’d created, the users that had enjoyed reading my inner thoughts. But then I had and it had been an insane concept to comprehend, but was also what had, ultimately, pushed me into continuing with it.

From there, opinions on genres of music and their style throughout different decades turned into thoughts on up and coming artists, then actors and other A-list celebrities. So, I’d ended up spending an awful lot of time online, simply just tweeting about it all, on subjects followers had wanted to hear about and answering questions on whether I loved a certain album or new EP.

The account had grown rapidly after and by the time I’d had the balls to tell my mum I’d wanted to leave home and make a start for myself, in London of all places, it had gained well over fifteen thousand followers.

I went to uni down there and met people. People who didn’t shy away from me or shine a light on my odd quirks. I met my best mate there, too. And Finn was unlike any other. The platonic love of my life, or so I’d dubbed. He was eccentric, witty, and didn’t care about what anyone else thought of him. Forced me to feel that way too, slowly but surely. And it had only taken a few weeks before he'd grown rather suspicious of my constant need to always have my phone near.

He had, pretty early on, decided that I must’ve had some secret boyfriend back at home that I’d yet to tell him about and had annoyed me about it at every twist and turn, basically backed me into a metaphorical corner. So to say I’d relented fairly quickly wouldn’t be a lie, and I’d told him all about the account soon enough.

Finn had actually been the one to suggest that I take it somewhere bigger, make it into something people could tune into and not just read about. I had actually taken that consideration on board way back then, but had only acted on it when shit had hit the fan a year or so later. But we'll get to that.

So with it all, I’d made an actual radio show out of my thoughtless Twitter account, allowing people to listen in and actually get to know the person behind the name.

That was essentially how ‘Mouse On A Mic' had come to life.

Yup, I’d kept the fucking nickname! I couldn’t not in truth, it was familiar, reminded me of the person I once was, and who I am now. But the only difference was, I’d given it a new story. I’d claimed it.

The show's audience grew fairly quickly during that first year, I was new on the scene and seemingly refreshing. I had a no-bullshit kind of attitude that my listeners admired. I called celebs out on their crap and went to new extremes to conjure up inventive ways to get followers involved.

Ultimately doing things that other radio presenters were afraid to do at the time. Which was fair enough, in hindsight, they had actual endorsers and brands that were backing them up and funding their streams. Me, on the other hand, had no-one to answer to for my mistakes or any backlash the show received. It was just me, sat alone in my bedroom, speaking into a mic.

Only now, it was me sitting in a quaint little studio in East, not too far from my flat and walking distance from any and every coffee chain London had to offer.

Anyway, back to the current show! I adjusted my headset over my ear as I wheeled closer to the table, aware of the many monitors and cables I was constantly trying to avoid and glanced upwards, locking eyes with my co-producer, Adi.

The girl shot me a hurried gesture, a circular wave of her hand that had me chuckling to myself even as I waved her off, knowing I’d already gotten off track one too many times this recording.

"Alright! It seems as though we've got to move on with the next segment of the show now! Unfortunately, Ads here has informed me that I can't just sit around all day and talk about Inhaler forever. A right shame that, don’t you think?”

I huffed theatrically, whilst Adi merely shook her head at me in return, dark ringlets brushing the length of her shoulders as she mouthed the word 'prick' through the thick sheet of plexiglass that separated us.

Ignoring that loving endearment in favour of continuing on with the commentary, I hoped I hadn’t steered too far off track, there was still a lot scheduled for today's show that I had yet to go over.

“So moving on!” I sighed into the mic and rubbed my palms together, “It seems like quite a few of you lot, on Twitter especially, have made it loudly known that you want to hear my thoughts on Manchester’s very own Matthew Healy. God, is there yet another scandal under his belt I don’t yet know about, where’s he finding the time?”

I shook my head briefly and rolled forward in my seat. The wheels squeaked beneath my weight and I made a silent prayer that the mics hadn’t picked up the sound.

What a fucking topic, I thought quietly to myself and sent Adi a semi-amused smile before I peered down at the recent headline she had handed over to me earlier that morning.

It was the same old thing. Expected really at this point.

“Healy’s at it again! Whatever will we do?” I gasped, dramatising the whole thing as I stared down at the images of the haughty singer that were plastered across the printout I held in front of me.

There were four of them, a quick succession that had all seemingly come from a clip at a recent concert. Bit blurry but the title gave away to what was happening.

A laugh bubbled up out of me as soon as I read the headline. “Oh god, it appears Matty Healy is- just wait for it!- back at it again, only this time it seems he’s gone and traded off a drumstick for…” I paused to drum quite the anticipating beat against the tabletop, and as stoic as I could, I then added, “A joint!” And a smug grin made its way up onto my lips when I heard Adi’s faint cackle echo from just outside the booth.

“Honestly, I swear that everything this man does makes the rags! Reckon I saw an article about how he took his tea one time. And like, do me a favour, yeah? A man of the people though, in’t he? He’s got to be! I mean, just look at this headline. Fucking who the hell writes this shit?”

Tossers, I supposed. But even so.

“It’s madness.” I muttered, clucking my tongue, “But anyway, I’m guessing that most people claim him to be the epitome of a realtime rockstar, and sure, he might just be. 'Sex, drugs, rock & roll', all that shit. But how much longer is it going to last until everything goes tits up, hey?

“I mean, Healy can pretty much do whatever he wants at this point, he’s got half the world either falling at his feet or complaining about him- has done since he was what, a kid? Following his parents among the shadows of their fame before he stepped out and made an actual name for himself. It is insane to see how much he’s changed though!”

And it was. He and his band had risen to fame so evidently, their music was everywhere, they sold out shows constantly, and had the privilege to fly across the globe doing whatever they pleased. But they’d also practically grown up in the limelight, Matty especially. So it was hard not to notice the resounding changes.

“But, if I am being truthful. And when am I not? I thought that most of the shit that went around about him at first was a load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that. Or just him being an idiot, a lad who’s had to grow up with all these cameras on him all the time and had to basically learn what he can and can’t say in front of them. Slipping up from time to time, like most do. But, now? I’m honestly not too sure… It’s just a bit sad. In’t it? There was so much potential there.”

I shrugged, a hearty sigh falling with my shoulders.

“I actually used to quite like his stuff a couple years ago, he’s got a way with words, with just music overall really. Reckon if he’d gotten his shit together he could’ve been ranked higher up on the list of rockstars. Could’ve changed or paved a way for newer musicians. But not so much anymore. His songs lack the passion they once had, they’re not what they used to be. He works hard, I’ll give him that. But, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his band pulling his dead weight along with them now.”

I took a slow breath, then gazed down at the small amount of sticky notes I had pinned to the monitor beside me: the next segment. I’d have to wrap this one up quickly.

“Maybe that’s a bit harsh.” I said, “But honestly, I just hope he takes an actual break sooner rather than later. The band looks spent and he just seems like he could do with some time away from all the cameras and prying eyes. Just so he can sort himself out good and proper, you know? Then again, that’s just my opinion among a sea of many.”

Truthfully? I really did think that Matty had talent, and he seemed like a sound enough guy- or at least he had done, a couple of years back, before all the controversy and whatever else. Now though, the guy just seemed so caught up in it all, in the fame, the tabloids, the drama. Unaware of just how far he’d fallen.

Me, I’d seen it one too many times before, with many of the greats even, and as painful as it was to watch, what more could I do, or say? I'm a nobody in comparison.

I blew out a short breath.

“Fuck, that got all serious didn’t it?” I tried to laugh off and only felt a little more at ease when I glanced up and caught Adi’s sincere smile, “Anyway, onto our next segment, reading a couple of your lots tweets! Let's see what everyone's saying about our amazing Adi today, hey? What was it last week, Ads- those yellow trousers you were wearing?”

“Oi, will you two stop mucking about, please? We’ve got to get going!” I scolded without any real heat, shaking my head as I held back chuckles, always amused by the infamous pair.

I’d not long left the studio, having walked with Adi to the nearby train station before heading over to Finn’s, and was currently packing away the belongings that had been messily upended from the Spiderman backpack I was often seen carrying about.

My gaze wandered over to the other side of the room once I’d teethed together the bag’s plastic zipper, over to where my son, Teddy, was currently in the midst of being whirled around by his godfather, tawny coloured curls flying in every-which direction as his cheeky grin grew even more prominent.

I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards as I watched my best mate laugh at whatever the toddler had just said, tickling the boy’s sides too. If I was feeling incredibly sappy, I’d tell Finn then just how thankful I was to have him around, because he truly was incredible.

From the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant, Finn had been there for me. He loved my son almost as though Teddy was his own, he adored the kid like no other and had placed him on a pedestal above everyone else since the day he was born.

Finn was always free to take teddy whenever I had the show to fret about too, or if I was ever in dire need of another helping hand. He was fiercely protective of the two of us and I knew in the very depths of my heart that there would never be a hair harmed on my son’s head as long as he was around.

I was pulled from my thoughts just as the toddler in question came bounding over, giggling uncontrollably as Finn chased after him, his arms stretched out wide and crouched down to mimic the small boy's height. I couldn't help but notice the matching grins they both wore.

“Help!” Teddy squealed as he flung himself into my awaiting arms, allowing me to wrap him up and settle him safely on my hip, using my frame as a shield to block him from Finn’s view.

"You can't hide from me Teds, I’ll always find you!" Finn taunted playfully, laughing merrily as he wiggled his fingers at Teddy, who was only just peeking out at him from over my shoulder.

Teddy squirmed in my grasp, giggling and screaming senselessly as he tried to dodge Finn’s oncoming hands that had since managed to softly graze his sides. I could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation, the pair never failing to brighten my day, and I couldn't help but feel ever so grateful for whatever being had brought Finn into both mine and Teddy’s lives.

You see, Finn was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother, let alone a best friend. He’d been the family I’d never known I’d needed, a home away from home. And I knew that I could always count on him for just about anything and he had proved that the day I’d turned up on his doorstep in the pissing rain one Tuesday night, utterly terrified after having just found out that I was pregnant.

“Alright, you lot!” I began, batting away one of Finn’s oncoming hands as he made to grab at Teddy's tiny ankle. “We've got to get home in time for your bath and tea, and I think Finn here has to pick up Liv from work.”

I was directing my voice towards the toddler in my arms but also sent a knowing look Finn’s way, one which caused the man’s eyes to widen in immediate realisation. ‘Liv’ was actually Olivia, Finn’s newest fling, only she had managed to last quite a while longer than the rest, a new record for him really.

“Shit, yeah.” Finn muttered before he hurried over to his desk in the far corner. I could only chuckle quietly, Teddy joining in too when he noticed, and watch on as he hastily started to grab at an array of items, shoving them into his jean pockets. Phone. Wallet. Keys.

When he was finished, Finn spun back around towards us and shot an accusing brow our way, not too pleased about having been the source of our amassment. Teddy and I couldn't help ourselves then and laughed a little harder at his impervious expression.

With that done and over with, I pressed my nose against the side of Teddy's head and smiled contently into his curls whilst Finn merely rolled his eyes at us, chuckling before he made a start for the door. I followed just behind, Teddy's backpack slung low over my shoulder and a happy little boy nestled in my arms.

***

People lover @/user1 Imagine being a mediocre radio host and thinking you know the ins and outs of the music industry.. #CancelMouse 102 @/user2 Don't mind me, reckon I just found my new favourite radio show:) Ugh! @/user3 Mouse sounded proper excited today but switched up so quick when that 75 bloke came up:// Soloveme @/user4 Hate to see people supporting toxic behaviour, sit down. Milk @/user5 Don’t hate me, I'll forever be a matty girlie!! But @Mouseonamic I kinda agree?? Paris @/user6 Do you think he’s seen it yet? > Too_shy @/user7 Probably, it’s trending rn >> Drummepls @/user8 Hope he’s okay and doesn’t take it as a personal attack..

He should’ve known really.

He should’ve fucking known.

Even in his drunken state he should have known not to look at what they were fucking saying about him. Slumped on the floor of his hotel room, propped up against the bathroom door, too exhausted to think about moving, let alone try.

He’d only heard a snippet, caught the last of it in the cab ride back from the club the band had found themselves in. But he had heard it, and he’d listened.

"He's got the whole world falling at his feet." He fucking wished. "Changed." Too right. "A load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that- but now I'm not too sure." Laughable, man. "It's just a bit sad." The story of his fucking life. "Potential." When’s he never not disappointing someone? "Lacks passion." Passion lies in living, mate, and he hasn't felt alive in a very long time.

"Not what it used to be." Who he used to be.

He lit another cigarette from a crumpled pack he’d pulled from his back pocket. Watched on as a curl of smoke unfurled in the air. He only wished he’d brought something upstairs with him, or grabbed one of the little bottles from the minibar before deciding he’d needed a piss. But if he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine it all going dark, the world fading around him.

Though, even then he still couldn’t quite muffle the loud, pitying laugh that escaped him as he continued to scroll through the mass of tweets that never faltered. They were like a freight train, unable to stop.

Matty wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Never had he ever felt so fucking lost. Desperate for everything to just pause for a second. To stop and leave him alone for a bit. The world to let him wallow in the dark, dank pit he's hollowed out for himself.

But what a fucking life, hey.

Carelessly, he thumbed across the dimming screen, his intoxicated mind too focused on the task at hand to remember why exactly it was he was even sitting there on the cold bathroom floor. Something to do with Hann, he supposed, or George. Perhaps another heated encounter? Probably.

The sound of his phone's keyboard echoed off the surrounding walls and Matty breathed out a self-depreciating chuckle when he clicked send on the tweet he’d curated, not caring enough for the consequences. Hardly even thinking, in truth. He was far too gone to care anymore, already knew firsthand what the consequences would be tomorrow. But at that moment, he just wanted honesty. To tell the truth, for once. To let them all know that he knew he was a shit excuse for a person.

What more could the world possibly say anyway?

Everyone around him was the same. He was simply just a puppet on a string. They’d make him sing and dance until the day he finally wrapped those wired strings tightly around his neck, and then all they'd be able to do is sit back and watch the show. And he'd enjoy every unabating second of it.

Matty @/trumanblack 10s ago Radio shows are sick man, gotta love them! And I sort of am sad haha. And I do lie, we all lie, I spose. But just listen to the radio, kids!

He laughed silently after, amused with himself, and tossed the phone off somewhere off to the side so he wouldn’t have to look at it again.

Bullshit. It was all just fucking bullshit.

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