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avatar-anna · 6 months

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I have a requeeestt. Would you write something where ice skater y/n has her period and she has practice and it’s just NOT her day. And she doesn’t feel super comfortable telling Harry but he figures it out and just like pure fluff 🙊💗

Grumpy

part one, part two, bonus, bonus, bonus

Harry's girlfriend was a delight. An absolute ray of sunshine. The sweetest human on the plan—

"Fuck off, Niall. I bet your 'superior athleticism' wouldn't last you one ballet class."

Most of the time. She was a ray of sunshine most of the time.

Harry looked up from his phone and saw Y/n talking to a few of his teammates. They were all snickering and laughing as if what she said was funny, which only made her fists curl at her sides, and while he would've found it rather entertaining for her to take a swing at one of them, he would rather not have his friends and girlfriend be on bad terms.

"You ready to go?" Harry asked, sliding his hand over Y/n's and unfurling her fist.

Her face was set in a scowl as she looked over at the boys she'd been speaking to. For the most part they got along great, Niall specifically. They had a sibling-like relationship and often teased one another, but Niall must've said something about figure skating, and that was one thing that would make you public enemy number one in Y/n's eyes. And if she was already grumpy? Harry met his friend's gaze and tried to send a clear message with his eyes: Cut it out.

Because Y/n could throw a punch, and while she was significantly smaller than his teammates, she had a mean right hook.

Y/n gave Harry a nonverbal grunt that she was ready to leave the rink. But she did lean into the tiny kiss he placed on her cheek, which was something.

"Yeah, Harry, take your girl home. I think she's on her period or something."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, time to go," Harry said quickly, pulling Y/n away from his teammates and sending one final look at Niall.

As they walked to the car, Y/n handed her keys to Harry unceremoniously and slipped her hand out of his to cross her arms over her chest. He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears, so he let her stew in her bad mood for a little while. She must've had a rough training session, which could mean she messed up a lot or hardly at all, but Y/n was an extremely tough critic, so it was hard to be sure of which one if he wasn't there to watch.

Y/n's arms stayed crossed as they drove back to his apartment. Harry was fine with it, knowing the grumpiness wouldn't last. It normally didn't with Harry, a fact that he was extremely proud of. Except when he rested his hand on her thigh—close to her knee, he wasn't trying to start anything—she shook it off and shifted so her body faced the window.

"What was that for?"

"For being friends with neanderthals," she muttered. "Especially that one."

"'That one' is your friend, bub," Harry said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "And wait—does that make me a neanderthal?"

"He was out of line. And no," she said, still facing the window, the last part almost an afterthought.

"I'll make sure he apologizes," he promised.

Harry leaned over at a stop light to kiss Y/n's temple. She didn't shrug him off or push him away, which was a good sign, though Harry now had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on. He didn't say anything the rest of the drive, happy to let his girlfriend be grumpy for the rest of the drive. As long as it wasn't directed at him, he was fine.

When they arrived, Harry shouldered both of their bags and handed her the keys to his apartment. "Go ahead and get in the shower. I'll meet you in there in a few minutes."

At that, he could practically see Y/n's grumpy facade start to crumble, but she nodded wordlessly and trudged up the stairs. Harry followed suit, setting their bags down and rustling through his small kitchen, trying to remember where he kept the emergency stash of her favorite snacks.

He realized that it was probably Y/n's time of the month. She became particularly moody around then, and it only took a couple minutes for Harry to put the pieces together. Should Niall have said anything? No, but the fact that he was right probably pissed Y/n off even more.

Harry grabbed a few things before heading down the hallway, the sound of water running growing louder as he got closer to the bathroom. He headed to his room first, setting Y/n's snacks and a couple other things down before kicking off his shoes and leaving to join Y/n like he promised.

"Need some help?"

Y/n was just standing beneath the spray coming from the shower head, not washing her hair or her face, the first steps in a detailed routine. She shrugged as he stepped into the shower, his hands smoothing over her shoulders before kissing the top of one gently.

"What's hurting?" he asked, continuing to snake his arms around her to hold her close.

"My boobs, my back, my ego, and I have the worst cramps," she huffed, but Harry detected the slight shift in her voice. Now that they were alone, she was trying not to cry. "He should try playing his precious sport while his uterine lining is shedding."

"I know," Harry said, reaching for the shampoo she used and squirting some in his hand. "Scalp only, right?"

Y/n nodded, some of the tension leaving her body when he started massaging the shampoo into her scalp. He worked slowly, trying to let the day wash off of her, murmuring to her and kissing parts of her body occasionally. When the actual bathing part of the shower was over, Harry turned Y/n around to face him, his kisses becoming more drawn out, sensual. His hands were soft, but firm, trying to knead away the soreness in her breasts and back.

Y/n sighed, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into his touch. Both of them could feel him growing hard, it was hard not to give the circumstances, but neither of them said anything about it. Harry wasn't really focused on himself at the moment.

"Want me to use the shower head?" he asked.

Y/n shook her head. "I want you."

"Yeah?"

Peeking one eye open, she said, "Don't be so smug about it."

Harry chuckled softly and reached a hand up to hold one side of her face. "Me? Never."

For the first time all afternoon, Y/n grinned, but it quickly turned into a frown. "We can't."

"Baby, we're in the shower."

"Still, I think it's gross." But even as she said it, she moaned when he began to kiss her again.

They had this debate every time Y/n was on her period, but Harry always managed to find some way around it. For her sake, not his. He knew they both wanted to, but Y/n never believed him when he insisted he didn't mind if she was on her period. His solution was usually the detachable showerhead, but she didn't seem to want that this time.

"Here," Harry said, an idea sparking. He sat down, the tiles cold against his skin as he brought Y/n down with him. She didn't follow though, staying standing, her arms crossed over her body. "Would you get down here? I promise I won't even look. See?"

Harry covered his eyes with one hand, then raised them to show that his eyes were closed underneath.

"You promise you won't look?"

"Won't even watch you come, which is arguably my favorite part," Harry said, only half teasing.

He kept his promise to keep his eyes closed, so he couldn't tell if or when Y/n decided, though when he felt her settle over his lap, he had a pretty good idea. She draped herself over him, tucking herself close to him when he was fully settled inside her. Harry couldn't tell if she just wanted to sit like this or if she wanted more, but all he got was a contented sigh in his ear, which didn't really help.

"Okay, you can go now," Y/n said after a few minutes had passed, voice soft and a little slow as if she'd just woken up from a long nap.

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. "I have to keep my eyes closed and do all the work?"

Y/n only nodded, not moving from where she was tightly hugging him. Harry was amused, but not all that surprised. She despised the term, but Y/n was without a doubt the textbook definition of a pillow princess. She had a pretty tough exterior, but once they were alone, she melted, becoming more needy and letting Harry take control. She liked being praised for taking all of him and behaving for him. His good girl, Harry once called her, and after she lit up from it, he called her that anytime they were intimate. He thrived off of it, Y/n's eagerness to please and the way she let him have his way with her.

Harry maneuvered himself a little, earning a few gasps and whimpers from Y/n. When he finally found a good enough position to hold her while not slipping on the slick tiles, he nudged the side of her cheek with his nose.

"I need at least a kiss first." He was keeping his word, so his eyes were still shut, but when Y/n slotted her lips over his and gripped the wet curls that were pressed to the nape of his neck, he grinned, focusing on the sensation of her kiss. With his eyes closed, Harry felt everything. Every shift of her hips, every clench she made around him, it was almost torturous, but he held off driving into her until he thought she was ready. "Thank you, bub. Be as loud as you want, okay?"

That only made her squeeze him tighter, and Harry took that as his signal to get started. It was slow as he tried to find the right rhythm, listening closely to how Y/n was reacting. Usually he was able to tell by the little faces she made, but he went off her sounds and how hard she squeezed her arms around his neck.

Harry murmured in Y/n's ear the whole time, letting her know how good she felt around him and to touch herself however she wanted. By the end of it, she was all molten limbs and tired, satisfied eyes, kissing all over his face as he smoothed back her hair. Harry gave her a couple minutes to come back down from her high before he helped her stand back up and let her get dressed while he showered properly.

Later that night, Y/n was sleeping in Harry's bed, a heating pad strapped to her back while she stayed tucked into his chest. They'd watched a couple movies and eaten her favorite snacks, and at one point Y/n crawled into his lap to ride his thigh when she claimed she needed another orgasm. Harry was happy to give her one, happy to let her use him how she liked, though he had to help her hips along after a couple minutes.

All the grumpiness from earlier was gone. She had nothing but kind words and sweet nothings and little jokes she mumbled to him as they continued watching a show they started together, which was when she promptly fell asleep. Harry was right behind her, he just had to send a text first.

Y/n's ballet training is at 8am on Wednesday. Be there.

Harry had promised Y/n Niall would apologize, and he couldn't think of a better way than his friend struggling to plié. He didn't need to add or else or any other kind of threat. It was unnecessary. Niall had pissed off Y/n, and he knew Harry would make him pay if he didn't make it right.

After sending the text he set his phone down and settled deeper into the pillows. Y/n shuffled around a little, then murmured, "Little spoon."

Harry understood immediately, turning over so she could wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek on his back. With that, Y/n fell back asleep, and Harry gave one last kiss to her knuckles before following suit.

#harry styles #hockey player!harry styles #ice skater!y/n #hockeyrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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ghostaholics · 10 months

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𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!Reader ➸ TAGS/WARNING(S): none ➸ BANNER CREDIT: cafekitsune & benkeibear

Detail-oriented, exceptional manual dexterity when it comes to sewing him up. Your movements are careful and controlled – meticulous with regards to everything that you do but especially focused on how the edges line up so that they don’t overlap. Other medics – they'll rush. Botch it. A shoddy job like tectonic plates of skin forced to converge on each other, because in his line of work, stitches are an afterthought when there's another bloke with a sucking chest wound whose deep in the throes of respiratory distress and the only immediate threat about Ghost's own injury is the small amount of blood he'll lose. Whatever will get it closed. Nobody else cares much about the cosmetic factor. But you do. Painstakingly so. It's a thankless job to spend three times longer than it should to get it right, but he makes sure to express his appreciation for the consideration you put into every single graze/cut/gash (even more diligent if the injury's to any part of his arm that could mess up his tattoo sleeve). They always heal nicely.

He looks for you, after-hours – well late into the night because you were occupied patching up other soldiers. It'd been a grueling mission, lots of WIAs needing your attention. He doesn't even have a good excuse for this. It's a trivial thing, maybe, to bother you. Like asking Atlas for a favour, with the weight of the world on your shoulders and the soul-crushing responsibility of holding lives in the palms of your hands as though you're the last line of defense against death. This is stupid. This is beyond fucking stupid of him. Almost turns around and walks away from the medical tent, because that's how ridiculous it is. But he convinces himself to head in, asking if you can fix the stitching on his mask because the only person he trusts more than himself to do it is you. Though his request is benign, the significance behind it is profound in ways that he won't admit to himself. There are very few people he can count on. And of course, you say yes with a tired smile and a brightness in your eyes that never seems to dull in front of him no matter how exhausted you might be. It's one of the rare instance he lets his guard down, shows his face. He keeps you company the entire time, telling you about why he wears that mask while you restore it back to original condition.

The irony of having an injured medic: Simon's saddled with the pitiful task of having to step into your role because there's a gash on your forearm that needs to be taken care of. He knows how to do a basic stitch – is fairly confident that he can thread the sutures just like you’d showed him a million times by now whenever he’d been looking for a reason to see you ( ❝ Show me how to do it right. The proper way, yeah? ❞ ). And he's admonishing you to hold still, except it's sort of difficult when you're being treated like a bloody pincushion. He'd never let anybody else get away with making fun of him for that but this is you so he lets it slide. After talking him through it (which you find quite odd, considering that he never would've struck you as someone who’d need extra time and help), you inspect his handiwork, mildly impressed.

❝ Oh, you actually... well, you did quite a decent job. ❞ ❝ Of course. ❞ Because he wouldn't settle for anything less than perfecti— ❝ But then again, it is a little off over here, ❞ you point out, just to deflate his pride. There's still smugness to his tone. ❝ Would you like me to start over, then? ❞ ❝ Not on your life, Riley. ❞

He doesn’t mention how phenomenal he is at suturing, doesn’t mention that he sat in on a class for combat specialists early on in his career even though he didn't need to be there and was commended for his technique by the leading instructor. He definitely doesn't bring up the fact that he's been taking long on purpose just because he likes your company.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod drabble #cod headcanons #cod mw 2 #cod mw x reader

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laurfilijames · 28 days

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Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Hurricane. Power outage. Oral sex (F receiving). Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: A hurricane rolls in and knocks out the power, allowing Will to make good use of the time waiting it out with you.

A/N: I've had this idea toiling around in my head for a bit, and when we recently lost power at our cottage, I decided to go for it. I have no experience of hurricanes so I apologize if this isn't accurate, though I tried to remain vague. A big thanks to @rhoorl for the Florida hurricane knowledge and to @ramadiiiisme for supporting this idea through to the very end 💗

---

The sight when you reached the top of the stairs stopped you in your tracks, admiring Will standing by the large window of your living room looking out at the wrath of weather outside, his expression content and thoughtful.

You set down the pile of various candles you had collected from every room in the house, smiling despite feeling a tangle of nerves in your stomach at the potential strength of this growing hurricane.

“Should you be standing that close to the window?” you asked, causing Will to smirk and glance over his broad shoulder at you.

“She’s starting to really ramp up out there.”

You sighed in response, dreading the thought of it getting any worse, the rain already accumulating to the point that the drainage systems on the street couldn’t keep up with it.

Will remained in place, staring back out at the palm trees swaying wildly, the bend of their trunks impressive, seeming completely unbothered by the storm and almost calmed by it.

Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and brought your hands up to his chest, feeling him take a slow breath in as he covered one of your hands with his.

“I like watching Mother Nature do her thing,” he explained, his voice soothing and even. “She’s angry, letting it all out.” He squeezed your hand as you rested your cheek on his back, already tired of watching the sheets of rain and extreme wind bully everything in their paths.

“I know what that’s like,” he finished, exhaling another slow breath that you felt fill and deflate out of his lungs.

Will turned and gathered you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his somber admission now an afterthought. “So, what did you manage to scrounge up?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Oh, just every candle I’ve ever bought or been given,” you smiled, turning your head to look at the array that was spread out on the kitchen table. “It might look nice when they’re all lit up, but the combination of scents might be a bit offensive.”

Will laughed, his body moving against yours with the motion of it, and you smiled and looked up at him, his blue eyes bright in the dim grey of the storm.

“I just hope the power stays on a bit longer,” you wished out loud, knowing however many candles you made glow wouldn’t be enough to outshine the encroaching dark from the storm let alone the fact that it was creeping later into the night.

“Hmm, yeah, the air conditioner is hardly keeping up as it is,” Will explained, his hand smoothing up your back where it dragged your shirt along with it, the stickiness of your skin and clothes already beginning to feel intolerable.

The lights flickered and the sound of the power surging through the house made both of you part slightly to glance at your surroundings, the warmth from the light of the lamps that were turned on illuminating your belongings for the last time before everything went dark.

Will chuckled while you groaned, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. “Well, sweetheart, it looks like you’ve got a superpower.”

You shot him a glare as you walked over to the table, starting to distribute the candles throughout the kitchen and living room, but not lighting any yet since some light was still coming in from outside.

Will sat on the couch, grinning as he watched you, almost seeming like he was pleased and entertained by the situation.

“How long before you turn on the generator?” you asked, testing your luck even though you knew what the answer was going to be.

He shook his head as he laughed again, “Not until I need to. We might have a ways to go here and I’m not wasting gas in the first few hours of this.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead as he spoke, his voice stern and amused all at once. “You’re going to have to be patient and trust me.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking the Zippo lighter you held on and off a couple of times before walking into the living room to join him, knowing that out of all the people to have by your side during an emergency, Captain William Miller was the best and most capable one.

He had already spent hours checking the house to make sure everything was secure, gathering supplies like gasoline and food and water, and hauled sandbags all morning with Benny and Frankie that they distributed out to the neighbours, even making a point to check in on some of the elderly ones.

“C’mere,” he purred, beckoning you over to where he sat comfortably, his long legs spread wide with one arm draped over the back of the couch.

He looked at you adoringly as you moved toward him slowly, his smile growing to pull out the creases beside his mouth that couldn’t be kept hidden in his beard, and you matched it with your own sly grin, suddenly forgetting everything that was happening around you as you became pleasantly distracted by the man sitting before you.

You straddled his lap, pulling up the hem of your flowy skirt as you did, seating yourself directly on the bulge in his workout shorts that elicited a low moan from him.

“It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart,” he spoke softly, his eyes flickering over your chest and then up to your lips. “We’re going to have to ride this thing out.”

It was said with such implication that despite the heat, you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your back and down your arms, and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you squirmed on his vast thighs.

“And what are your suggestions for…riding… it out, Captain?”

Will shrugged and smirked, his eyes glowing the same way his skin was from the humidity that hung heavily in the room, his hands groping at your hips.

“I’ve got some ideas.”

You smiled as you cupped his cheeks, loving the way his dark blond facial hair felt against your palms, and pulled him into a kiss while arching your back to get your body closer to his at the same time, both of you breathing out in the relief of your lips meeting.

Will set the pace, starting off with slow rolls of his tongue with yours, his hands carding up and down your body languidly, reminding you that there was no hurry in any of your actions and that you had all the time in the world to do anything you wanted with each other.

You slid your hands down the thick column of his neck to his chest, feeling his pulse hammer against them, landing on his chest where his body heat poured off of him, the cotton of his t-shirt damp and clinging to his form.

It took everything in you to maintain composure, thankful for Will reminding you to slow it down whenever you found yourself moving your hips faster, his hands pressing and digging into your flesh to force you to keep the steady rhythm that he started.

The slick that already saturated your thong teased you the more you ground your aching core against him, feeling his hard cock straining against the material that contained it, the excitement and anticipation of having him buried inside you intensifying by the second.

The skin on your chin and lips were already raw from how long you had been kissing, the steamy makeout session only made better by dry humping each other until you both were on the verge of finishing how you were, your whines and moans growing while your movements decreased to be as light as possible in an attempt to prolong this intoxicating tease.

Will kissed and sucked at your neck and chest, having already exposed more of you by tugging the neckline of your shirt to the side with eager hands, his breath fanning over your sweat-coated skin when he sighed deeply through his nose.

“Fuck me, you’re gonna make me cum in my shorts.”

He huffed out a laugh, but his admission only spurred you on more, grinding harder on him until his humour faded out and was replaced by ferocity, growling as he pressed his lips against yours again, the sweat that saturated his beard transferring onto you.

The storm was still going strong in the background, sheets of rain pummeling the house and striking the window with a sound that mimicked waves crashing the shoreline, the nerves you felt about it shifting into a frenzied arousal that you directed onto the man beneath you.

Your hands struggled to get under his shirt, the material so stuck to his stomach from his sweat that the skin on your palms dragged along his abdomen, the tackiness making it difficult for you to peel it up over his head.

It hit the floor with a slap, the weight of it evidence of how much the heat and you were affecting him, and you smiled against his lips at the sound of his breath hitching as you slid your hands down his chest to land on his solid pecs while your lower half continued to torture him.

You touched him everywhere you could reach, smoothing down his stomach and back up again, cradling the sides of his neck and then over his shoulders, and finally up to his hair where you let your fingers rake through it until you knew you had made it stick up in a spiky mess, deepening your kiss as the sensation made him press harder into your mouth.

The window rattled from the force of the winds, disrupting you enough that you broke your kiss and turned to look at it, the thought of it possibly shattering filling you with worry as you were reminded of your vulnerability.

Will placed his hand on your chin, his thumb smoothing it while his other fingers tucked up under your jawline, guiding your head back to face him where he silently assured you that everything was fine, his eyes reflecting a surety and vow of protection that no amount of reinforcements on the house could ever match. He adjusted the pad of his thumb so it sat on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to part it from the upper one, and it surprised you to see how quickly his expression changed, his eyes darkened so much by lust in a matter of seconds that the look in them rivaled the clouds spiraling outside.

He kissed you desperately, his hands falling to your waist where he lifted your shirt upward, only pausing the union of your mouths long enough to remove it from you, your braless chest grazing against his when you leaned into each other again.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin despite the humidity clinging heavily to the air around you, your nipples hardening and feeling incredibly sensitive each time his body brushed against them, your needy moans pouring into his mouth the more his hands roamed over your mostly bare form.

You could hardly handle it anymore, desperate to feel him deep inside you, moving your hips back slightly so you could access him, tearing the front of his shorts down where you reached in for his cock. Will was helpful, lifting his ass off the couch so his shorts could slide down his thighs in order to expose all of himself, his expression serious with brows furrowed and knitted tightly together as he watched you grip him in your hand and began stroking him tip to base, smearing the precum leaking from it all over his silky shaft.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you back to sit directly on top of his groin, guiding your motions as you rocked your covered pussy on his bare cock.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he hissed, holding your skirt up so he was able to watch you grind along his length, pressing his cock flat against his lower stomach where drips of cum spilled onto the smattering of flaxen pubes.

A slow sigh of approval passed your lips as you continued to languidly ride him, your eyes closing as you lost yourself in the sensation and moaning when you felt Will capture one of your breasts in his mouth and spin his tongue around your nipple.

You could feel him growing more impatient, his lips moving faster along your chest where he eagerly worshiped your tits, his fingers clawing at the thin material of your skirt as if he was ready to rip it to shreds to get at you, and his breathing became more laboured, his chest rising and falling quickly while the exhalations from his nose ghosted against the crests of your breasts.

“I need in there,” he growled, his head shaking to the side a couple of times like there was no way he could handle another second not being inside you, his fingers slipping into the crotch of your saturated panties to pull them to the side before running his index and middle fingers through your slick.

Your mouth pooled with saliva as he drove his long digits in and out of you in broad strokes before bringing them up to his mouth to suck them clean, his other hand angling his cock to line up to part your folds while you lifted yourself up on your knees to allow him access to enter you.

You sank onto him slowly, letting him fill you inch by inch until you encased him completely, his blue eyes locked with yours with an appreciation held in them that made your heart beat faster.

Remaining still, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands holding onto either side of his face, deepening your kiss as you relished in the fullness he provided without moving.

When you parted, Will gave you a soft smile that made you melt, his fingers coming up to trace along the side of your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, the surety in his words clear, although his expression was a thrilling mix of adoration and something waiting to be unleashed, the suspense of experiencing either rough or gentle treatment exhilarating you.

“I love you too, Will,” you breathed, not daring to look away from him.

A strong gale slapped the side of the house, reminding you that the hurricane blasting outside wasn’t to be forgotten, but Will immediately drew your attention back to him, his hands smoothing up your back to hold you against him in a firm, but soft way, his lips pressing onto your shoulder and across your collarbone to your neck, alternating between kisses and nips that told you his control was beginning to falter.

You started moving on him, riding him in careful waves that felt so incredible you weren’t sure how long you could keep it up, knowing that whether you moved slow or fast, you would be reaching your climax in no time.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, resting his back against the couch to watch you, locking his hands on your hips to force you down hard each time you lifted yourself up and almost off his cock.

He was completely enamoured, looking at you as if anything could be happening outside that window and he wouldn’t care to notice, his eyes dancing over your form in a struggle to choose which part of you he wanted to see the most.

Finding the perfect spot that made you thrum with ecstasy, you rolled your hips and bounced up and down, your swollen clit hitting the base of his cock in a shattering blow each time, your skin tingling from head to toe as your orgasm built.

“You’re right there, aren’t you?” Will asked, his words breathy as he admired you sliding on him.

“Yes, fuck!”

Will thrusted up into you a few times, your cries growing loud enough they almost drowned out the noise of the hurricane, your nails digging into the flesh on his shoulder as you approached your high.

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Will interrupted, though his voice was soothing. “Not yet.”

His eyes were big and bright despite the dark grey that had fully consumed the room, and although you were taken aback by him edging you, you couldn't deny the trust you had in him to look after you.

“Sit down,” he ordered, nodding to the space on the couch beside him as helped move your legs off of his.

Will stood and removed his shorts that sat halfway down his legs, stepping out of them before moving to kneel on the floor in front of you, his thumbs smoothing on your knees in a way that contradicted the way he forcefully pressed on them to encourage you to spread your legs for him.

He kissed his way up the inside of your right thigh, a low growl coming from him as he inhaled deeply when he reached your core, and then moved over to your other thigh, peppering wet kisses slowly away from where you needed him most until you were squirming where you sat.

“Will…” you breathed, shifting your hips to try to bring yourself closer to him.

“Let’s get this off,” he grunted, his patience thinning as your skirt was preventing him from taking everything he wanted.

He reached behind you, his fingers easily finding the zipper and pulled it down, keeping steely eye contact while wiggling it off your hips with the help of you shifting from one cheek to the other until he peeled the flowy fabric off of your body.

The creases on his forehead were pronounced as he continued to look up at you as he tugged at the waist of your thong, sliding it down to expose your dripping cunt that his eyes were now fixed on as he guided the wet piece of cotton to your feet.

Will hooked his arms under your legs, letting them relax on his biceps, his tattooed forearms wrapping around your thighs to hold you securely. He pulled you toward him, bringing you to the edge of the cushion so you were flush with his face, his nose brushing your folds before his tongue swiped through the mess he had already made.

A long moan toppled out of you as you raked your fingers through his hair, lifting your hips slightly to get even more contact with his talented tongue that licked at you slowly and precisely in an effort to wreck you.

He picked you apart minute after agonizing minute, continuously bringing you to the peak only to stop you there each time, the violent storm outside going ignored and nothing compared to the one raging inside you.

As always, Will was completely focused on his mission, working you with the expertise he had come to master over all the hours spent learning your body, knowing the exact amount of pressure placed on the perfect spot that would send you soaring.

Not once did his hands leave their hold on your legs, completely unselfish in his art and not even considering touching himself, his generosity and the thought of his leaking, rigid cock left waiting for attention adding to your demise.

You pleaded over and over, his name like a song with the storm as your instrumental background, desperate for release as you ground against his face, your heels digging into his waist as he in turn dug his mouth harder into your cunt.

He had you where he wanted you, and pushing your tolerance a little further, Will unraveled one of his arms from around your leg and slipped his hand between the sofa and you, fingering you slowly while he sucked at your over-sensitive clit, the precise hook of his fingers making you clench around them like a vice.

And then he stopped.

You cursed loudly, whining and squirming as he sat up and looked at you with a satisfied expression, his face glistening from your pleasure.

A stray branch from a tree flew by and struck the house, drawing both of your attention to the window, but Will was quick to recover where your focus belonged.

He stood, a slight hitch as he straightened his long legs, his body that had been put through so much physical turmoil over his years of service known to cramp up if left idle for too long.

Will gripped at your knee, pushing it toward the back of the couch so your body was forced to spin and lay down, crawling between your spread legs until he was positioned over top of you with his arms braced on either side of your shoulders.

He kissed you intensely, moaning into your mouth as his cock nudged where he had left you aching for relief, savouring you like he had gone without the press of your lips on his for days.

His hand found yours, interlacing your fingers as he brought your arm above your head, laying his body completely on yours so he covered you entirely, protecting you with all he had.

He was heavy, but comforting, his weight assuring and a reminder of his strength and unwavering love for you, and at the same time it came as a warning of the crushing power he could choose to have, like he was a hurricane all in himself and you were in his path of destruction.

Will paused in kissing you as he adjusted his hips, looking down between your bodies to watch his cock easily push through your tight folds, a shaky breath exhaling from his parted lips as his brows knitted tightly together at the sensation of being back in your embrace.

You looked to the side to see out the window as another blast of wind surged against the house, only to have Will squeeze your hand that he still held in his, his voice calm and even.

“Hey, focus on me,” he ordered, his eyes a turbulent blue when you met them. “Look at me.”

You nodded, holding his gaze as he began to move inside you, the feel of him stroking your walls in long, slow drags making it difficult to keep your eyes open.

Your free hand ran along the flexing muscles of his back, clawing at his sweat-coated skin as he found a pace that brought you right back to the point he had left you at more than once, your head tipping back into the couch as you were dragged into the throes of pleasure even more intensely than before.

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart,” Will promised, his voice intoxicating and comforting all at once. “I’ve got you, you can relax…”

He spoke against your neck before moving his mouth back to yours, kissing you gently before probing his tongue in, the tempo of his thrusts deepening now that he knew you were succumbing to everything he was giving you.

He moved on you like the wind moved the rain, pushing and forceful, seeking his own release as he rolled against you with fervor and breathy moans were exchanged between your mouths as you chased your highs together.

Your whole body tensed, convulsing and giving up all control as he fucked you through the shattering orgasm made even more powerful thanks to how he had edged you, feeling yourself release on his shaft that alternated between being buried deep inside you and pulling out almost completely.

Will pressed his mouth hard on yours before breaking the seal of your lips, allowing his laboured breaths and rough grunts to sound out as he fought to follow right behind you, the cadence of your contracting walls coaxing out his end.

You could feel him pulse inside you, filling you to the brim with his thick, hot seed that was always generous in its quantity, his pace remaining steady though his rhythm began to break.

Drops of sweat from his brow landed on your chest, his harsh movements shaking the accumulated moisture off of him, continuing to buck into you erratically until he had nothing left to give.

He crashed against your lips again, transferring even more sweat from his efforts onto your skin, his hand releasing yours where he brought it to your head and smoothed it over your hair, kissing you slowly but purposefully as he gradually let the rolling of his hips fade out.

After a minute, Will pulled out of you, reaching for some tissues out of the box on the side table and handed them to you, taking some for himself for you to both clean up. He stood with a grunt, looking down at you with an extended hand to take the soiled tissues from you, the muscles in his cheeks flinching wildly as he clenched his teeth together.

Will paused for a minute, looking out at the tempest scene, all of his veins raised as blood pumped strongly through them, his muscles accentuated beautifully from his efforts, and you couldn’t help but fall even further in love for him, his face stoic and almost unreadable, but only you knew how much emotion lingered beneath.

He sighed as he moved again, stretching his weary limbs while stalking to the kitchen, and you wondered if he had any idea how much you worshiped him even as he did the simplest of things.

You laid there listening to him rummage around, looking out the window at the ever-present hurricane, the room almost completely dark as night had successfully consumed the sun along with the storm.

Will returned with two glasses of water and set one on the table, passing the other to you.

“Drink up, sweetheart,” he drawled, smirking as he spoke. “The eye hasn't even passed over yet, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

The wink he sent you went straight to your core, your anticipation of whatever else he had planned for you enticing you and almost had you hoping this hurricane would last for days.

You returned his smile as you brought the glass to your lips, sipping it as you watched him sit on the couch beside you and grab the lighter off the coffee table, flicking it on so the warm flame illuminated his dewy, gorgeous features in the otherwise dreary dark. He lit the two candles that you had placed there earlier before grabbing his own glass and downing the contents of it, seeing the way his throat moved as he swallowed making you thirsty for more.

He sighed when he finished drinking, running his hand over his face to rid it of the sweat, and looked back over to you still laying where he had left you.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling up your naked form until they landed on yours.

You shook your head ‘no’, giving him a sated smile, thinking how you would happily give up air conditioning and electricity permanently if it meant sharing more moments like this with him.

Will gave a nod and laid down beside you, helping you shift so there was room for him to lay with his front against your back, spooning you comfortably where you both were able to face the window.

His arm draped over your waist and tucked under yours, his hand cupping your breast, and tangling his legs with yours, brought his groin as close to your bum as he could.

He hummed against the back of your neck, his nose brushing your damp skin, and you smiled when you felt he was hard again, his cock pressing between your cheeks.

“You’re going to outlast this hurricane,” you giggled, squirming so your bum rubbed along his shaft, making him growl against your skin.

“Damn right, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his hand running down your stomach and around to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart where he slowly pushed inside your tight walls.

He kissed your neck, the sensation of his beard on your skin making you moan and shiver, his hand returning to your breast where he tugged and pinched at your peaked nipple.

“We're going to need to pace ourselves, here,” he warned in your ear, beginning the slow drag of his cock out of you before slamming it back in, the conflict he felt between wanting to keep you safe and seeking to destroy you playing in his mind.

---

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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month

Text

A Practical Demonstration (Alastor/Reader)

The deal you made with Alastor leads to an unexpected demonstration.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54229351/chapters/137324059

(ayyo I never posted the first and second chapter of this so: here we go!) Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert

“What in the nine rings is that shit?”

“Hi, Angel,” you greet him as he came into your room, not bothering to close the door fully behind him. “As always, nice of you to knock.” You’ve got a wide spread of documents scattered across the desk, various color schemes and books on light studies and all sorts of shit that Velvette had asked you to look into for her. You don’t mind helping out where you can but you had been at this for hours, and Angel showing up unannounced was always a good way to distract you when you were trying to work.

The demon shrugs. “Eh, ya get used to it,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth coming into view, the gold one glinting in the light from your desk. “But for real, what is that thing?” He points to your nightstand, where the rose toy you neglected to put away sat on proud display.

You flush and race across the room, throwing the toy unceremoniously back inside. “It’s really nothing,” you tell him, and when he approaches you spread your arms out to try to keep him back. “Angel, come on-”

He’s sprouted his third set of arms to reach around you, opening the drawer and pulling your newest gift out from the top. “Come on now, ya don’t gotta be ashamed if it's a sex thing!” He lets it sit in his hand as he poses with the rest of his arms, blinking coyly at you in his new position. “I basically am a sex thing, baby, it don’t bother me none!” He holds it up to inspect, and when he brings it a little too close to his face you drag his arm back away. “Where’d ya get this thing?”

It was a gift from Velvette, something new that Vox and Valentino had created together that your friend had felt compelled to shove into your hands one day. “Keep it on the low, yeah?” She had said, an eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk on her face. “New product, can’t be lettin’ it get in the wrong hands but Satan knows ya ain’t gettin’ any action in that rickety joint of yours.” You had blushed and stammered and protested but ultimately had taken the damn thing, placing it on the nightstand in your room when you returned that day and not touching it beyond the one time you turned it on- just out of curiosity- and saw the force of the suction that it could generate.

“Velvette gave it to me, and it’s a sex toy,” you tell him, and he gives you a knowing look.

“Ahh, she’s still tryna get ya laid, huh?” You close your eyes and give him a tight nod. “She still doesn’t know about your thing for tall and freaky?”

You slam your hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the partially open door, not noticing the shadow that slipped into the room mere moments before. “Angel! Shut up!”

“Whaaaat?” He complains, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “It’s not like it’s a secret- pretty much everyone knows except the Strawberry Pimp himself, and-”

“And,” you interrupt him, taking the toy from his hands and throwing it back into the nightstand, “I would like to keep it that way. And don’t call him that,” you add as an afterthought.

Angel groans as he started walking away. “Spoilsport,” he calls over his shoulder. “Ya never let me have any fun.” He exits the room and purposely leaves the door fully open this time, and with an eye roll you follow him, sure that Charlie and Vaggie have dinner ready by now.

Alastor is there when you stroll into the dining room, his customary smile in place as he looks at the two of you. “Evening, friends!” He greets you, and you give him a smile back. “I’ve saved a seat for you, my dear,” he says, and pulls out the chair to the right of the one he normally sits in.

Your face flushes, and Angel snickers beside you as he goes around the table to sit by Husk. “You don’t have to do that, Alastor,” you tell him, and his grin sharpens dangerously.

“But of course I do,” he says smoothly, quietly, fanning out his napkin to sit across his lap as he sits. “What would dear Velvette think if she knew we weren’t getting along?”

Your spine stiffens, and a glance around the room confirms that no one else had heard him. It was the only point of contention between the two of you, really, the deal that you had made with him to keep Velvette safe from the insanity of the other Vees.

He owned your soul, and any of your knowledge of the more recent aspects of technology on Earth that could potentially help him in taking down Vox. In return, he would not specifically target Velvette when the final confrontation with the Vees took place, content with simply obliterating Vox and Valentino- provided that Velvette did not take any actions directly against him.

Velvette knew about your deal and the part you played in ensuring that when the Vees fell she would not be part of the carnage. They had thrown her under the bus not long before you came to the hotel, placing the blame for a series of footage and info leaks on her social media platforms, and she was more than happy to let someone else seek her revenge for her. She kept the benefits of working with the Vees- ‘no harm done,’ she had told them- and had the extra reassurance that when they fell she would remain on top. She knew you seemed happy enough to work with Alastor when he asked it of you, and was pleased that the deal didn’t seem to be a hardship on you.

He didn’t often use that against you like this though, like her safety was a bargaining chip that went hand in hand with his personal happiness or mood. You hadn’t even said anything bad! Just that he hadn’t needed to save you a seat beside him. You were thrilled, honestly, and just mostly nervous about him catching one of your looks or blushes when you watched him too closely.

You gave him a smile regardless. “Right. I appreciate the gesture then,” you say, and don’t see the way that his grin extends as he watches you sit and start reaching for the food laid out on the table.

Dinner is a strange affair. Throughout the night Alastor seems to keep finding excuses to turn his attention to you, only to harshly refute or ignore what you say in response. His leg is twitchy under the table and keeps knocking against yours, to the point that you turn essentially sideways in your seat to stop it from happening and talk to Vaggie and Charlie instead. At the end of the meal you walk yourself to your room slowly, tired beyond belief, confused and a bit hurt by Alastor’s behavior.

To your surprise, the Radio Demon is in your room when you close the door behind you. You startle a bit, not expecting him, and at the sound he looks up from where he sits at your desk, the documents you had for Velvette organized into a neat stack. “Hello, my dear!” He says, and rises from the chair to approach you. You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the hurt you’re sure is reflected there, but he places a sharp tipped finger under your chin and raises your head to look at him. His smile is softer, his eyes lowered a bit as he gazes down at you.

“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says, and you heave a relieved exhale. “Upon reflection I do see that my manners were abysmal, and there was no need to treat you in such a fashion.”

“It’s okay, sir,” you say, but when you start to take a step back more of his fingers come up to grip your face, holding you in place. “Um-”

“Ah ah ah,” he admonishes. “I wasn’t finished. In addition to my apology, I did have a query for you in regards to our deal.”

“Of course,” you tell him, and your heart has started beating a bit harder in your chest now with the way he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell when he’s angry with the smile most of the time, but his expression is even more unreadable now than it usually is. “What is it?”

He pauses for a moment. “Is there any form of technology that you are uncomfortable with the thought of showing or demonstrating for me?”

You blink slowly a couple times, the way you’ve seen Lucifer do when he doesn’t understand something that someone has said to him. “Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” Part of your ‘job description,’ as Alastor put it, was sometimes showing him non-television style technology and demonstrating its uses for him. You had gone over flip phones, Walkman's, CD players, pagers, and more recently some small tablets and compact computers. Digital cameras were out of the question, as were actual televisions whether they be old or new.

He didn’t like any of them, would have rather not bothered with the whole idea by his own admission. But he felt it necessary to understand what he could about the things that gave Vox so much power over people, and being the most recently dead at the Hotel you had the most up-to-date information. You were also one of the few who didn’t begrudge Alastor his preference for older tech- you had died while AI was a big thing on Earth, and that had freaked you out enough at times that you could appreciate hardwiring that didn’t talk back to you unprompted. Usually he stood a few feet away, far enough back that he could still watch without interrupting any frequencies, and allowed you to walk him through the various uses of the device.

“Lovely!” He says at your response, and then straightens up and crosses the room towards your bed of all places. “Now, I noticed at dinner that you’ve seemed quite out of sorts lately. Are you getting enough rest?”

What?

“Yes, sir, I think so,” you tell him, eying him warily. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying for Velvette to help with her shoots- light composition and all that, but-“

He makes a noise at you, something that sounds like an admonishment. “Come now,” he says, “you mustn’t be neglecting your beauty sleep for a Vee, even if she is the most tolerable of the lot!” He takes a seat on your bed- what? - and gently pats the pillow at the head. “In you go, my dear. I can’t have my little assistant lacking.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to argue on the matter. He’s been in a weird mood all night, and you really are quite tired at this point. You approach cautiously, climbing into bed the opposite side of where he sits. “If you say so, Alastor.” You lay back against the pillow, not bothering yet to get under the covers. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You glance towards the door, hoping that he will rise and leave you.

“Hahaha!” He laughs instead, rotating his body so that he can face you more fully. ‘No, I think not my dear! I’ll stay to make sure you get some proper shut-eye.”

Your heart beats faster. No way would you be able to actually sleep with him in the room. “That’s really okay,” you try to tell him, but when you sit up he places a hand gently on your shoulder and guides you back down to the pillow.

“Naughty girl,” he admonishes, and the words send a rush of heat across your face. “I truly insist! You rest up, and I’ll be right here to ensure that you do!”

“Oookay,” you finally agree, and lean back against the pillows stiffly. It's torture for a long few minutes, where you try to regulate your breathing and not focus on the fact that he’s so close to you, in your bed. Eventually though, despite your heartbeat in your throat, you do start to relax a bit.

“Hmmm.” Alastor hums where he sits in the bed next to you, and while his smile is, of course, still present, his eyes have a kind of far off look in them.

“Alastor? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, quite alright!” He says in his typical fashion. “But I must admit I find myself rather curious about something, and I was hoping you could help me gain some enlightenment.”

“Sure; however I can help.”

“Splendid!” He claps his hands together. Your nightstand is enveloped in shadows, and when it re-emerges your rose toy sits front and center on top. You choke on your spit a bit, sputtering as Alastor looks at you. “I heard you mention to Angel Dust that this is a ‘sex toy’ earlier, but you didn’t go into any further detail! What exactly is the function of such a thing?”

You were going to drop double dead right here in your bedroom, with Alastor sitting atop your sheets and looking curiously between you and the toy. “Oh God, uh…” He raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Shit, um, that’s not really- it’s kinda a private thing,” you sputter out, but he just continues to smile at you as you attempt to sink through the bed, through the floor, into a special kind of Hell reserved for moments as awkward as this one.

“I confess, my dear, a contribution to my terrible manners earlier stemmed from the idea that you might be holding back information.” He plucked the small device off the night stand and turned it this way and that in his hand. “When I thought about how you mentioned to Angel that it was a ‘sex toy,’ though, I realized that we had never established any sort of boundary as far as what kinds of technology you would show me per the confines of our deal!” He placed a hand to his forehead, an exaggerated face palm. “Which was quite silly of me, of course.”

You were going to stop breathing.

“Naturally I wouldn't want to make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, tucking the hand not holding the intimate technology under his chin to look at you thoughtfully. “And really, I doubt this is any kind of device that could do any true damage in the coming battle between myself and Vox. But one can never be too sure!”

He holds it out to you, and though you take it with trembling hands you are still trying to explain. “Sir- Alastor - this is very much not the kind of technology that you would be interested in.”

“Oh but I am!” He assures you, and he sits cross legged now beside you. “I am quite interested in learning more about such a strange device. And did you not say that there was no technology that you were uncomfortable with demonstrating?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And- pardon my eavesdropping, of course- did you not also tell Angel Dust that you received the device from Velvette, a known ally of my personal enemy and a demon bent on destroying me?”

You close your eyes tightly. This was too much. “Yes, I did. But-”

He makes a noise at you, like a parent would to an unruly child. “Well now, how am I to know that the device was not planted on Velvette by the others? Not merely a gift to a friend but something orchestrated by Vox to destroy me and everything I care for?” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I would so hate to see you harmed, my dear. Will you not show me how it works to ease my worried thoughts?”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you swallow hard. You… suppose he raised a valid point, as awkward as you felt about it. You knew that despite your deal he felt some apprehension about allowing you to spend so much time with Velvette, even with what you were providing him with in return. If this was what it would take to ease some of the tension in his mind…

“I… okay,” you said finally on an exhale, and looked back down at the toy. Your voice trembled as you held it up for him to see. “Do you… I mean, usually you stand a little ways away, sir.”

His grin stretches up his face, eyes glowing red as he watches you fiddle with the object in your hand. “Oh no, darling, I’m quite content right here.”

“Right.” The blush on your face nearly permanent at this point, you rotate the device so that you can reach the button on the side. “There’s this little, um, button on the side to turn it on.” you press the button and the noise immediately starts, subtle but all too loud in the space between you and Alastor. Your cheeks are burning. “There are a few different uh, strength settings. For the. Suction.” The smile on Alastor’s face is etched in stone, and he leans closer to you as you cycle through the different speed settings. You can’t look at him anymore, dropping your eyes into your lap as you hold up the toy. “Next, uh…”

“What is the suction for, dear?”

When you look up you nearly jump back in shock; he’s moved even closer, his face right in front of yours when you’ve brought it up. “I- what?”

He places his hand over yours on the rose. “The suction. Whatever could it be for?” You try to lean back and he follows you, bent nearly in half as he does. “You could use-”

“No!” You push the toy into his hands, desperate for escape from this situation, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I mean, not no no, but- you don’t want to see that-”

“My dear.” He sets the device to the side, using one of his hands to bring your face up to look at him. He comes even closer, essentially crawling across the bed and hovering over you- what the fuck what the fuck- while you do your best to sink into the pillow. “As entertaining as it is to see you so flustered, I truly was looking for a more practical demonstration. Won’t you show me?”

If your heart flutters any harder it will burst from your chest. But he’s being so insistent that he doesn’t mind the nature of the device and that he wants an actual showing of how it’s used. You take a deep, shaky breath and commit to it- he’s asked, and you’ll indulge Alastor anything he asks of you. You reach to the side of him and take hold of the toy. “I haven’t, uh. Used it before,” you tell him.

His eyes flash red and the smile stretches as he leans back the slightest bit. “No time like the present then!” He chirps, the static in his voice more pronounced that it had been thus far. When you move your hand to your waistband you hesitate, but his eyes zero in on the movement. “By all means,” he says, “don’t stop on my account.”

Another deep breath and you clench your eyes shut, not able to make eye contact with him as you remove your bottoms. With your eyes closed you don’t see the way that his widen; so focused on your own breathing that you don’t notice his sharp inhale at your movements as you settle back into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed as you bring the toy to your lower body, debate for a moment, and decide to position it before switching it on.

You’re hyperaware of Alastor’s gaze on you even without being able to see it. Your hands tremble as you place the small gap in the top over your clit, spreading your legs slightly for a better angle. A hand on your thigh makes your eyes fly open, and when you make eye contact with Alastor you clench them shut again, unable to do this knowing that he’s touching you-

Without realizing, your hands have tightened their grip on the toy and pressed the button to turn it onto the lowest suction strength. The sudden strong sucking on your most sensitive spot has a harsh moan tumbling from your lips, your head tossing back into the pillow and Alastor’s fingers tightening imperceptibly on your skin, claws digging in ever so slightly. It's so much and so sudden, almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure if you should curse Velvette or send her a gift basket.

“What does it feel like?” The static is gone from Alastor’s voice, and when you find the strength to open your eyes he’s much closer to your… demonstration than you would have expected him to be. Close enough to taste, not that he would, but the thought of it alone has your hips lifting from the bed, desperate for more that you know he won’t give you.

“It’s so- ugh, fuck,” is what you manage, and his eyes are hooded and focused so intently on you. You hope that this is giving him whatever information he was hoping to gather, because there was no way in any of the nine rings of Hell that you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again after this.

“Eloquent, darling,” he says, still no static to the words, and then his spare hand is placed over yours on the rose toy and jumping the suction up by a couple levels.

Another unbidden moan rips itself from your chest, your free hand clenching the sheets on the bed as Alastor holds your other to the toy on your clit. You’re soaked by this point, arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, and you’re so close already without the added stimulation of the harsher suction. “Fuck fuck fuck, God,” you get out between your panting, and his chuckle brings your gaze back to him, not realizing that your eyes had rolled back as you rode the waves of pleasure.

His other hand, the one that had been on your thigh, is now posed by your entrance, his glove discarded somewhere on the bed and his fingers mere centimeters away from where you suddenly, desperately want them to be. “There’s no God here, my dear,” he says darkly, “but perhaps I can be persuaded to worship you instead.” The suction increases again, his pressing of the button subtle, but it's too much, too much-

Your vision goes dark with the strength of your orgasm, the coil in your stomach snapping as you arch up with a drawn out gasp of his name. There’s static in the room, drowning out the sound of your cries as you ride through your release, and you can just barely see Alastor through your half-closed eyes, his own eyes lidded and his pupils blown wide as his smile is stretched as far as the sudden green stitches would allow.

He holds down on the power button to turn the device off, pulling it- and his hands- away from your body. You allow your eyes to drift shut, breathing heavily as you lay back into the pillows. You can hear the vague sounds of something moving around, your nightstand opening and closing though the space on the bed is still dipped down from his weight. You’re trying to gather the strength to say something, to explain yourself maybe- because how could you let yourself get so far gone that you said his name mid-orgasm, Jesus- when the dip in the mattress disappears.

“Well, that was quite enlightening!” You hear him say, and when you drag your eyes open he’s standing on the other side of the bed, his expression totally normal aside from the permanent smile. “I do so appreciate your compliance, my dear, in helping to ease my mind about such a strange device.”

“I- yeah, sure,” you manage to get out without stuttering too much, and how composed he is now, while you are still half naked and heaving from your release, has your face flaming. “Anytime. Happy to help.”

His eyes lower. “Funny you should say that! I did notice a few more devices in your drawer- were these items gifts from Velvette as well?”

You had forgotten about the variety of other toys you kept near your bed, and your blush renews, your face hot at the thought of what he had seen. “No, sir,” you tell him, and he makes a little humming noise similar to the one he had earlier.

You think about how his pupils had been so dilated, his fingers poised and ready to join the fray while you used the toy, and add as an afterthought- “Some of them are uh, VoxTech brand though.” You hoped you weren’t wrong, and the positively lecherous look that his smile takes on confirms it for you.

“How interesting!” he exclaims. “I suppose there may be other demonstrations in order then, hm? After all, it never hurts to be thorough!” He holds a hand out to you and you place your own into it, allowing him to bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “And I do plan on being quite thorough, darling. I hope we can find the time to reconvene soon- in the meantime, sweet dreams.”

With that he melts into shadows and vanishes, and no sooner than the black puddle on the floor disappeared have you whipped your phone out of the pocket of your discarded bottoms. You text Velvette first, a series of emojis that she has no hope of deciphering- her response of ‘TF r u on about???’ confirming that thought- and then Angel, asking for recommendations before pulling up the VoxTech website and taking a look at the options you don’t currently have in your drawer.

Like Alastor said- it doesn’t hurt to be thorough!

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #to quote the tag from ao3 #jfc what is wrong with me #my stuff <3

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another-lost-mc · 7 months

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

- 🥀

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

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

1.2k words | sfw | fluff | gn!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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onlyjaeyun · 8 months

Text

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟏𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔.𝟐𝐤

⤲ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

"Don't worry, Hoonie", you say calmly and finally come to stand at Jaeyun's front door, your palms sweating as the excitement and nervousness of the upcoming hour finally gets the best of you, "I'll make sure to keep an eye on him throughout the night. We both won't drink anyway so it won't be that difficult."

Your brother lets out a sigh of defeat when he finally gets himself to accept your words of reassurance regarding his best friend. It's only been a few days since Heeseung's panic attack, but you could tell from Sunghoon's demeanor just how worried he is about him. And you don't blame him in the slightest. You've only ran into Seung once since that night and every time your eyes roamed his face you remembered Hoon's words. "He looks so tired" he had texted you and there was absolutely no other way to describe the current appearance of Lee Heeseung.

You could tell he was trying his best to keep the conversation up, the enthusiasm however leaving his system rather quickly as you guys lost yourself in topics and he became even quieter than before.

However, after a long talk with your older brother you both had decided to try your best to make the upcoming time as easy for the best friend as possible and despite your attempts of cheering up Sunghoon as well, he seemed too effected by it all to even think of anything else.

"I won't be drinking tonight either", he suddenly adds as an afterthought to your words and you just let out a hum of approval, aware that you'll need him to be sober to be of any help but knowing him you're pretty sure he's going to end up a little tipsy – it's Sim Jaeyun's birthday after all.

"Keep me updated yeah? I'll head home after work and get changed so I might be a little late", Hoon mumbles just as Heeseung buzzes you in and after telling him not to worry again, you both say your goodbyes and you finally find yourself standing in front of the boys' front door.

You don't get enough time to mentally prepare yourself to face Lee Heeseung as he swings the door open and appears in front of you with a soft smile on his pretty lips. Usually you're quick to avert your gaze, but after last time, you just can't help but let your eyes roam his handsome face and take in the sight of his breathtaking features.

His big bambi eyes are fixated on you, exhaustion and pain lingering in the usually so warm brown and you hate the way your heart breaks at the realisation of just how much he's been suffering in silence.

Because despite your desperate attempts, you never really stopped caring about him and his well-being. Your love might have never been and won't ever be reciprocated, but you would never want him to actually suffer because no matter what he's done to you, Lee Heeseung is one of the best people you've ever met and maybe that's why your heart is still thrumming in your throat every time you're in his presence.

"Hi, there", he says and steps aside to let you in, "I'm glad you could make it."

For a moment you're left speechless and you don't even know why. Maybe it's the fact the two of you haven't been all alone in over four years or maybe because you catch yourself craving the sound of his voice even more than before, yet either way it takes you a good moment to respond.

"Hey", you breathe and take your shoes off, still feeling his eyes on you as he watches you attentively, "of course. Wouldn't want you to do it all by yourself."

Heeseung just smiles and when you finally look up at him, you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding in when you realise how honest and genuine it is.

You both silently walk into the living room before Heeseung takes your bag and coat from you, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your thighs for a moment longer than necessary and you hate the way your body instantly starts heating up in response.

"How have you been?"

Your question lingers in the air for a moment and you carefully watch his reactions to your words, only for him to break into a bright smile.

"Better", Seung replies and for the first time in a few days, he's proud of himself for just how true the statement is, "it's been...a week, but I'm okay. Can the Park siblings please stop worrying so much about me?"

Your ears perk up at his rhetorical question and for some reason his abilitiy to read you and your intention this well flusters you a lot more than it should.

"Oh, come on", he suddenly chuckles and runs his bandaged hand through his dark hair, "do you really think I don't know how you two have been thinking of ways to cheer me up and take care of me these past few days? You might be a little more subtle about it but Hoon's always been bad at hiding his concered face."

You attentively listen to him and finally feel yourself get rid of some of the tension in your muscles when he tries to imitate your brother's expressions, furrowing his brows and scrunching his nose with pouted lips just like his best friend.

A chuckle falls past your lips and all you can do is nod in response to his words, knowing he's too attentive not to know your intentions, but from the lightness of his tone you can tell he appreciates it just as much.

"We just care about you a lot", you admit and hope your choice of words doesn't give the wrong signals, since you wouldn't want him to get uncomfortable, "especially Hoonie."

This time Seung starts nodding as he fumbles with his ring clad fingers and you genuinely can't stand the way your eyes hungrily take in the sight of them. Your obsession with his hands has never been healthy and it seems to be worse even if you were convinced you had gotten over it.

"And that means the world to me." He replies calmly and opens his hands for a quick second, exposing the bloody patch on the bandage around his hand to your eyes.

A soft gasp escapes your lips and with worried eyes and absolutely no other thoughts you reach for him to take a proper look at it.

And Heeseung doesn't stop you, even if he should. He definitely shouldn't be enjoying the feeling of your skin against his but after fighting his demons all week, he allows himself to enjoy and savior this for as long as you'll let him. Just this one time.

"When was the last time you changed this?" You ask softly and gently graze the bloody patch in the middle of his palm with your pretty fingers, your fresh set of nails catching Heeseungs attention and he hates his brain for putting mental images of your hands in his hair and his face into his head so quickly.

He's so caught up by the calming feeling of you holding his hand, he actually forgets to respond, his body in an actual trance as comfort and calmness takes over his system from nothing but a single touch of yours.

"Seungie."

Your sudden use of the nickname you had chosen for him almost two decades ago suddenly pulls him back into reality and with big eyes he meets your strong, worry filled gaze.

"This morning", he quickly mumbles and hopes you don't notice the slight blush covering the apples of his cheeks, but he knows his ears are gonna give him away anyway.

"Come on, let me change it again or it'll get infected", you say and subconsciously wrap your fingers around his hand before you pull him into the direction of the bathroom, only letting go once you realise what you've been doing. And as you make him sit down on the edge of the bathtub you wonder why he wasn't the one to pull away from your grip, your head quickly making up possible reasons and you sigh as you push all of them to the farthest corner of your brain.

"You know, you don't have to do this, right?" He mumbles softly and takes in the sight of your pretty side profile as you look for the boys' first aid kit before sitting down in front of him.

"I do", you reply quickly and start unwrapping the old bandage gently, scared of hurting him, "but I want to. Your hands are your biggest treasure, captain."

Your words make him chuckle and a sense of pride fills his chest as he replays them in his head because you've always been the only one to give him this particular feeling.

"You've never called me that", he suddenly mumbles as the realisation hits him and he can't help but love the way it sounds coming from you. It doesn't sound condescending or ridiculing but genuine and honest, filled with pride as if you felt proud of his position on the team he's worked so hard for.

"We only started talking to each other again about two weeks ago, Seungie", you chuckle and throw the dirty bandage away and reach into the kit to clean the deep cut.

Heeseung doesn't respond to that because he doesn't know what to say. You're right, after all. He hasn't talked to you in four years and he's only been captain for about one now, but that doesn't take away any of the excitement in his eyes in response to your words.

"Does it hurt?" You whisper and swallow your tears as you wipe the soaked cotton pad over his wound with care, remembering the way Sunghoon had broken down in front of you once he told you about that night in detail.

"No", Heeseung quickly replies because he knows how worried you are even if you aren't looking at him; he can feel the concern in every single one of your delicate touches.

A beat of silence follows his answer and once you're done, you can't get yourself to actually let go of his hand.

And Seung doesn't pull away either, leaving you wondering what his sudden change in demeanor means, but you don't let yourself fall into those wishful thoughts. Not again. He probably doesn't want to be rude because you helped him, that's it. There's nothing else to it.

And maybe it's a moment of actual weakness or maybe the longing of all those years but you physically can't stop yourself from taking his into both of yours.

You absentmindedly trace the shape of his rings with the tip of your finger, too shy to actually touch his skin and for a moment you allow yourself to get lost in those thoughts you had tried so hard to get rid of.

What if he has changed his mind and isn't opposed to you anymore? What if you're finally mature and old enough for him to recognize you as your own person and more than his best friend's sister? What if he thinks you're attractive now, maybe even pretty?

As the questions in your head start doubling in their numbers, you feel your chest getting tighter once you realise just how much you still like him, throwing away your hard work of the past four years just like that.

Heeseung doesn't move at all, just enjoys the way your touch seems to feel perfect, something he's never felt before. He can tell you've got lost in your thoughts because you usually never touch him and here you are holding into his injured hand with such care yet also certainty, he can't help but gently wrap his fingers around one of your delicate wrists.

The air in the small bathroom is so thick with tension, Heeseung is sure he could easily cut through it with a knife if he tried but for some reason, he doesn't feel uncomfortable. As you stare at your hands, he lets his eyes roam your body for a quick moment, since he's already stared at you enough today but at this point he's stopped blaming himself because there's no way he could physically stop himself from looking at you. Not when you're wearing one of your cute little dresses which barely reaches the mid of your perfect thighs and those god damn tights. The colour compliments your skin tone in the best was possible and he loves how it fits your shape perfectly, like it was made for you and you only. Seung can't even imagine what it would look like on someone else and he doesn't even want to.

You notice his strong gaze on your face after finding your way back into reality and the second you lift your head to look at him, a wave of warmth hits you.

"You're so beautiful."

Three words.

It takes exactly three words for your heart to skip several beats in a row and for a moment you struggle to inhale as those few letters know out every bit of oxygen in your lungs.

Hearing him say what you've been daydreaming about for years, especially when you had just finished internally scolding yourself for your wishful thoughts, has adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Maybe you misheard him or maybe you just heared what you wanted to so badly, so without missing another beat you look at him with parted lips and mumble a soft "sorry?"yet avoiding his gaze like the plague.

You don't know what you expect from him, but in absolutely no universe, not even your delusional one, you're prepared for the sudden feeling of his other hand on your cheek softly guiding your head up to meet his eyes.

Too shocked and overwhelmed by just how perfect his skin feels against yours, you just do as he wants, subconsciously moving further into his touch and with a soft sigh Heeseung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in the same moment his gaze drop to your parted ones.

"You're such a beautiful girl, princess", he whispers and grazes your bottom lip with his thumb, the action so small yet dizzying, you physically can't get yourself to breathe even if you tried.

And when Heeseung finally notices the expression of shock on your pretty features, he sighs and accepts his defeat. He know he shouldn't have done this. He should have kept those words and touches to himself, save them for the time you might actually want him the way he's been craving and longing for you but after a week of fighting with his thoughts, he simply didn't have the energy left to be as distant as he usually is for your sake.

But when you refuse to move out of his touch, even subconsciously nuzzling your cheek against his palm it takes Seung every bit of self control to not just pull you onto his lap and finally claim you the way he's wanted for years now.

"Don't look at me like that, pretty girl."

His voice is a mere whisper but you hear the despair in every single one of his words, his bambi eyes filled with an expression of...longing, something you had never seen in them before and for some reason it's that particular realisation which finally allows you to breathe again.

"Like what?" You're genuinenly surprised at the stability and actual sense of your response, since you've struggled to find proper words for the past two minutes.

Heeseung doesn't give you enough time to analyse your own reactions as his he suddenly takes your face into both of his hands and never once averts his gaze from your face.

"Like you still want me", his answer hits you like a truck and with an inaudible gasp you try to fill your lungs with oxygen, only to fail miserably.

"You deserve nothing but the best princess, do you hear me? Don't ever settle for those pretty faces who do everything halfheartedly", he begins and cocks his head tot he side with sudden sadness washing over his sharp features, the unexpected change in his expressions splitting your heart in two, "I wish I could be what you deserve but I'm not. And I'm afraid I won't ever be."

You frantically let your eyes roam his face to see if he's as serious as he sounds and there's absolutely no indication of his words being anything but the truth. Heeseung's never been one to lie, not to you anyway, so why are you trying to catch him in one right now, of all moments?

It's been years since the two of you have been this vulnerable with each other and as you wrap your fingers around his wrists to keep his hands on your face, you just look at him with a veil of thick tears blurring your sight.

"But–"

Heeseung smiles and pulls your face even closer to his own, knowing this will be the first and last time he'll allow himself to be like this with you, which is probably why he doesn't hesitate to place the softest kiss on your lips, purposely not giving you enough time to realise what he's doing to make sure you don't reciprocate it because he knows once he gets a proper taste he's going to be addicted and that's the last thing that should happen.

"So perfect", he whispers and actually pulls away, letting go of your warm face with a soft sigh before he wordlessly gets up from his seat on the edge of the bathtub to find an escape in the kicing room knowing you'll need the next few minutes to compose yourself, which will give him enough time to get his shit together.

And as you wordlessly watch him walk away, the safety of his presence and your perfect, yet temporary world slowly starts crumbling down around you and with your brain processing each word, a sudden wave of pain leaves you gasping for air desperately.

Why would he do this to you?

He knows about your feelings for him despite your attempts to hide them even after being rejected by him four years ago, so why would he fuck with your head like this? Talking about not being what you deserve, kissing you and placing the tiniest bit of hope into your palms just to brutally take it away from you again.

In a moment of anger clouding your brain, you aggressively swing the door open, preparing yourself to confront him for messing with you like that because why the fuck can't he just leave you alone? It's not like you'd get over him without him doing all of this anyway, so why is he making this even harder for you?

Maybe he likes to see you suffer and this is just all part of some sick game of his, or maybe he knows he won't ever choose you over his friendship with your brother, a fact so hard to swallow, you feel yourself choking on it each and every time.

Questions, thoughts, as hopeful as they are desperate, as well as anger and confusion fill your head the closer you get to him, not even realising he's made his way to the front door only to be met with the sight of his pretty best friend in his arms.

It hits you right then and there that everything that has just happened simply doesn't matter to him because you've never been and won't ever be an option. At the end of the day you'll always be Sunghoon's younger sister to him before anything else. Nothing else about you matters as much as the relation to your brother and as you try your best to swallow your tears at the sight of Sumin burying her face in Heeseung's neck with giggles and an explanation what she's doing here, you can't help but let your gaze drop to the way he's holding her and that turns out to be the last of his hints for you to get.

Without a word you turn around on your heel and finally reach the somehow comforting four walls of Jongseong's room, closing the door behind you and finally letting go of everything with your hand firmly covering your mouth to hide every single cry from the two people on the other side.

You don't say a single word until Jaeyun comes home from work, welcoming him with a big hug and sad eyes, which he unfortunately quickly catches up on and before you get to reassure him not to worry, he's met with the sight of his best friend's best friend and without saying anything he just shoots you a tight lipped nod.

Once you're all done setting everything up, Jongseong finally walks through the door, bundled up in his thick coat, a beanie and his face hidden by a mask and a pair of sunglasses he pulls you into a tight hug and thanks you for your hard work. Neither of the boys give Sumin a single second of their attention and you can see their lack of enthusiasm about her presence from their cold expressions.

For some reason their reactions and behavior give you a stupid sense of happiness, especially knowing they don't like her at all and you actually happen to be their favorite.

Different than expected your brother manages to be the third one to knock on the door, present and flowers in his hands as he looks at you with exhaustion grazing his features and you quickly avert your gaze to hide your eyes from him, knowing he'll read you even faster than Heeseung and the last thing you want to do is explain your brother why you're as sad as you are.

However once your girls arrive, a little bit later than the boys' team mates, you finally manage to distract yourself and after about an hour you stop looking for Heeseung in the crowd of people, just focusing on your friends and staying close to your brother and his boys as much as possible because you know Sumin won't approach you if you're with them.

It's not that you're still bitter about her words from a few weeks ago, but you're not gonna give her the opportunity to pull something like that ever again, especially knowing Heeseung will probably protect and defend her.

And as soon as your new coworkers and friends make their way into the living room, your brother's best friend basically becomes invisible and you love how you manage to put your whole focus on your own people instead of the ones who haven't done anything but hurt you.

You throw your arms around Jiung's neck with a loud chuckle, actually and genuinely happy about him and Keeho being there because they always end up being the life of a party. And when he refuses to let go of your waist as he half hugs the girls, you move further into his touch, even going as far as placing your hand over his and biting your bottom lip when he shoots you one of his infamous smirks.

It's not like you're trying to make anyone jealous or show Jiung off to anyone, there's absolutely nothing going on between the two of you after all, but for some reason you're craving the validation he's currently providing you with and him not being interested in anything serious just makes it a lot easier as well. You enjoy each other's company, that's it.

And with every single time that guy touches you, Heeseung feels his heart rate pick up its pace, brutally hammering against his rib cage and his vision actually blurring from jealousy. He's never wanted to fight someone as bad as he wants to right in that moment but for some reason he can't get himself to just...look away. After your little moment in the bathroom he's promised himself to never let it get this far again and that's why he let Sumin hug him the way she did, something he usually isn't fond of at all but he knew you'd be the one to push him away if you saw him like that.

He probably won't ever forget the pain in your pretty eyes, the ones who were filled with hope and adoration just a few minutes prior to that moment, but as much as he hates hurting you, he simply didn't have another choice.

That's probably why he can't stop looking at the way Jiung's been hugging you from behind for the past hour, resting his head on your shoulder and even touching your neck every now and then, none of which you seem to mind and if it wasn't one of his best friend's birthdays, he would have left hours ago.

Heeseung knows his brain is purposely punishing him for what he did and said to you in the bathroom but none of that makes any of this easier.

Sumin doesn't stop talking for a single second and after listening to her for the past two hours, Seung's stopped paying attention, his sole focus remaining on you.

After a week so difficult Seung is surprised he's still made it out of his bed, life has finally decided to give him a break as his "best friend" tells him about her early departure because she has to catch a flight in the morning and as soon as he closes the door of her uber, he lets out a loud sigh of relief. It's not like she caused a scene or anything in particular she's done but just her presence (probably even existence) has started to drain him of energy lately and even if he refuses to admit it, Heeseung knows her words and threats played a huge role in his breakdown from a few days ago.

And even if he genuinely understands, he can't help but feel hurt by his friends avoiding his presence when Sumin is by his side, yet at the end of the day there's no one to blame but him and he's more than just aware of it.

That's probably why Heeseung's as excited to get back to the party as he is, knowing he'll finally get to spend some quality time with his boys after not seeing them for a week.

And when the thought of spending time with his friends actually helps him distracting him from you, he basically runs out of the elevator towards the front door, only to be met with you and your little pretty face of a boy toy sitting on the stairs, calmly talking to each other.

You don't seem to notice his presence and neither one of you bother to turn around and see who's just got out of the elevator once its doors have closed behind Heeseung.

He knows he should just leave you two alone and give that guy the chance to finish what he had started at your housewarming party. Heeseung wants to just walk back into his best friend's apartment and continue the party, leave you with him and try his best to forget about you but there's absolutely no rational thought left in his brain as he watches the way Jiung pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and places his big hand on your neck.

For some reason, however, he can't get himself to move away as soon as his eyes fll on you, reading your body language like it's his mother tongue and quickly noticing all the signs of your personal discomfort. As soon as Heeseung notices Jiung's other hand making its way underneath the skirt of your little dress, he basically chokes on his own spit.

He can't even hear what you're saying when you move out of Jiung's gentle touch, shooting him the sweetest smile ever while you push his hand away from your thigh.

However, Jiung seems a little too comfortable and persistent for Heeseung's liking because for some reason he doesn't seem to get your hint, quickly reaching for your arm and pulling you against his chest, chuckling when you playfully turn your head to avoid his lips.

But Heeseung knows you're not being playful or teasing. One of your hands balled into a tight fists while the other nervously scratches your neck as you try to remain as polite as possible not realising you're being watched by the last person you wanted to see again tonight.

And the longer he watches the two of you, the faster his hearts start hammering against his rib cage, the blood thrumming in his ears and every single thought on his mind vanishing as he makes his way to the two of you and harshly grabs Jiung by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against the wall and easily ignoring your shriek of shock.

"She told you to cut it the fuck off", Heeseung presses through gritted teeth and casually throws your coworker to the floor, eliciting a loud gasp from you and as soon as you realise what's happening you move to help your friend on the floor, only for your brother's best friend to wrap his hand gently around your arm and keep you by his side.

"And I told you not to settle for pretty faces who do everything halfheartedly, didn't I?" His words leave no room for discussion and you don't miss the jealousy oozing from his gaze as he looks at you without missing a beat.

You gulp harshly and try to move out of his firm hold on your arm, the whole situation stressing you out even more than wht had happened earlier today.

"Let me go, Heeseung", you hiss with furrowed your brows and your lips pressed tightly together, feeling proud of yourself for maintaining the eye contact without making your struggles too obvious.

"He hasn't even kissed you yet and tried to get into your pants, Y/N", he suddenly says and you look at him in horror, only then realising just how long he's been watching the two of you.

"Were you watching us, you fucking perv?" Jiung's spits and clmes to stand right behind me with his head held high, absolutely not fazed by the humiliation Heeseung had put him throught just a few minutes ago.

"Yes, because I don't fucking like you and I'd be a fucking bastard if I left you alone with her for too long", Heeseung replies and moves you behind him, covering your sight with his broad shoulders as he looks down on Jiung rather casually.

"Why the fuck do you care? You're just her brother's best friend so know your fucking place." You can't hide the surprise in your expressions as his words reach you and for some reason you actually feel offended for Heeseung, never having had anyone talk to him like this in front of you and as much as you hate him right now, you'd never let anyone disrespect him like that.

"Watch your words, Jiung", you suddenly hiss and come to stand next to Heeseung, only for him to shove you behind his tall frame again without a word.

"I care because I'm pretty sure you didn't tell her why your fucking ex girlfriend broke up with you, or am I wrong?"

And suddenly your ears perk up, thousand question marks popping up in your head as you look at Heeseung's side profile with confusion in your eyes before turning your head to look at Jiung.

"Why would I? That's nobody's business but mine and hers." Jiung replies calmly and confidently and you can't help but wonder how Heeseung knows about this particular topic but most importantly what it is all about.

"What are you talking about, Seungie?" You're careful with your question, purposely not directing it at Jiung because you know your brother's best friend would never lie to you, especially since his knowledge seems to have his blood boiling.

"He gave his ex girlfriend a fucking STD after he cheated on her with the campus whore", he deadpans and never once looks at you but actually stares right into Jiung's soul.

He knows he's supposed to let you indulge in your little crush and get a boyfriend so he can forget about you, but after talking to Sumin about Jiung's ex, who just so happens to be in one of her seminars, he definitely wasn't gonna keep this to himself any longer than necessary. Heeseung was just waiting for a good moment to talk about this with his boys, knowing it'd be better if they approached you with this but knowing he made you uncomfortable and refused to accept your rejection, he just couldn't stop himself anymore.

"What the fuck, Jiung?" You say and don't even try to hide the disgust in your voice, subconsciously holding onto the back of Heeseung's shirt but quickly letting go once you realise.

"It was an accident", Jiung shrugs and rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed about the topic and all of a sudden you feel more than just uncomfortable in his presence and basically dread the upcoming time at work.

"The cheating or the lack of protection?" Heeseung throws back at him without missing a beat and you hate the way you can barely hold in your cheeky grin.

"Fuck this, y'all are lame anyway", your coworker replies casually and turns around, leaving you alone with the one person you've been avoiding all night and as the air slowly fills with this tension again, you wait for the door to fall shut to make sure Jiung's gone before you quickly try to follow him.

The sigh of annoyance falling past your lips as soon as Heeseung's fingers wrap around your arm is basically inevitable. You want to be in his presence but you can't physically bear it; your heart hurts and just thinking about your moment from earlier makes you want to burst into tears and hide forever, the same feeling of shame and humiliation getting the best of you exactly the way it did all those years ago.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Your choice of words, your tone and your lack of eye contact is everything Heeseung needs to know about your current emotional state, but apparently not enough to make him let go.

"I didn't mean to ruin this for you", he sighs and looks at you with nothing but comforting warmth oozing from the brown, "but I just couldn't just let it happen either."

"Yeah, I know. I'm your best friend's fucking sister and that's why you could never let a boy be mean to me, right? My fucking hero", you spit back and hate the way your voice breaks as the whole day finally catches up to you.

It's just been too much. Your moment with him in the bathroom, his words, his constant staring, his actions and words being actual opposites, watching him with Sumin and actually having to carry this facade throughout the whole night has finally worn you out completely.

You don't even feel bad for the tears, nor do you feel guilty.

You're just glad they you finally get to let them go.

"I can't let any fucking boy be mean to my fucking girl, because that's who you are. Yes, you might be Hoon's sister but you're so much more to me than just that." His voice is louder and harsher than you expected and as soon as your brain processes his words, you bite back a bratty response, waiting for him to keep talking.

"You can go and fuck those ugly wannabes but none of them will ever be good enough for you", he whispers and nudges your nose with his own, making you realise just how close he is to you and all of a sudden the air in Jaeyun's apartment building is thicker than anything you've ever experienced.

"I can't let a boy be mean to you because I will actually get myself arrested the next time I see you with a loser like this, do you fucking hear me?"

"Why do you care so much?"

Silence.

Heeseung doesn't say a single word, simply because he can't. How is he supposed to tell you about just how important you are to him when there's a friendship on the line that's saved his life in ways he could never repay even if he tried.

Yet you seem so hopeful. Despite anger and annoyance wavering in your voice and lingering in the soft colour of your eyes, he can tell just how much you want him to say those words.

"I guess that's all I need to know then", you sigh and move out of his firm grip, wiping away your tears quickly, "please stop fucking with me like this. My heart can't take it."

And those are the last words you say to him before you finally reach the front door and leave him standing there with nothing but teary eyes and an aching heart. Yet again.

(A/N: I know I said this would be a little smutty but i kust felt like it didn't match the vibe so it just..got angsty 💀 thank you guys so much for your patience and all the love you've been sending my way, it really is everything to me. feedback and reblogs are appreciated!!!🥺🧸💞)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

#enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #enhypen writers #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung angst

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dixonsgirl93 · 3 months

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Bad Day

(This is literally based off a Co-worker of mine who pisses me off almost daily. I imagined Ghost accidentally upsetting you while trying to teach you to be more assertive. The hug at the end is the most crucial part of this)

“You gotta give her a taste of her own medicine.” Simon grumbled, exasperated.

You sighed heavily. “I know. I’m just…not a confrontational person. At all.”

“Then let me teach you.” He takes a step back as if the two of you are about to spar.

“I don’t know…” You hesitate, already with a gut feeling this isn’t going to end well.

“Trust me.” He says and you do. “‘Blah blah blah I’m bossing you around’. How’s that?”

You smirk at his attempt. “You could be her twin.”

“Okay, so what would you normally say?” He asks, getting you back on track.

You shrug. “Just say yeah or something and walk away.”

His shoulders slump and he stares at you incredulously. You can’t see the rest of his face but you just know his expression says ‘are you serious?’

“You know, by doing that she just thinks it’s okay to keep talking to you like that.” He points out.

“I know. But it’s either that or I tell her to fuck off.” You fold your arms.

He frowns slightly, the mask moving with him. “Well…that won’t do.”

“I don’t know what else to say. I’m crap at these types of situations. I’m either passive or extreme.” You hold out your hands to emphasise your point.

He sighs and shuts his eyes tight for a moment. “Okay. Just start by giving her the same attitude back. Find a good moment when you need to ask her something. And don’t be passive when she responds with hostility.” He added as an afterthought, already predicting your response.

“Gosh. I can try.”

“Try now.” He gestures to you and sets his feet, again as if readying himself for a spar. “Go and…clean that up.”

You open your mouth to respond but stop and take second. What would be a good response? Something she says to you all the time? “Say please.”

“That’s good! Again-”

“I’m done. I’ve had a stressful enough day without more of this shit.” You turn to leave.

“Oi!” Simon calls. “Get back here.”

Something in you snaps as his harsh tone. Maybe it was the fact he’d never yelled at you like that before. Or maybe it was just the stress of the day had built up too much. Could have just been everything all together, bubbling up inside you like mentos in coke.

Tears spring to your eyes and fall quicker than you can blink them away.

“Hey.” Simon’s voice is softer. His footsteps approach you from behind. “I’m sorry. Come here.” He reaches out and steers you to turn around. He pulls you into his chest, his hand holding your head.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.”

#Simon Riley #simon ghost riley drabble #simon ghost riley imagine #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod imagines #simon riley x you

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bingwriterxo · 9 months

Text

moth to a flame

pairing: amber freeman x reader, minor wes hicks x reader

summary: in which you get a new boyfriend, yet he's not who you really want

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, talks of homophobia, cheating

word count: 1000+

author's note: loosely based on 'moth to a flame' by swedish house mafia & the weeknd. writing mojo's back, babyyyy 🤠

“So,” Mindy started as she slammed her hands down on the lunch table, her eyes sparkling with an excitement that made Amber want to puke, “let’s talk about the happy, new couple!” She climbed into her seat and whipped her head around. “Coast is clear. Thoughts, everyone?”

Liv piped up first. “I think they’re adorable!”

“Yeah,” Chad agreed, grinning. “They’re cute together.”

“I’m just happy that Y/N is happy,” Tara said. She shrugged and added, as an afterthought, “Wes, too, I guess.”

Amber scoffed and crossed her arms, sitting up a little straighter when everyone looked at her. “Are you idiots blind? Wes is a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend.” She narrowed her eyes at her friends as disgust boiled beneath her skin. “He’s not nearly good enough for Y/N.”

Mindy rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. “You don’t think anyone’s good enough for her, Amber. You said that about her last three boyfriends.”

Amber nodded. “Yeah, and I was right. They all ended up being abusive assholes.” Even just mentioning your ex-boyfriends left a bad taste in her mouth and ignited a murderous flame in her chest. Oh, what she’d give to teach all of them a lesson.

“Okay,” Liv began, a little hesitant, “but we know Wes, and he’s good for her! He’s the sweet ‘boy-next-door’ type.”

“Yeah,” Tara said. “He’d never hurt a hair on Y/N’s head. Not like…” She trailed off, and the silence of the group spoke for itself. Amber clenched her jaw at the thought. “Besides, she was so happy to tell us about the relationship! They both were.” She reached out and placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “She’s in good hands, Amber.”

“Yeah, right,” Amber muttered. “If he so much as touches her, I’ll--”

“Who’re you threatening today, Ambs?” Your teasing voice interrupted the girl’s warning, and she looked up at you, smiling, before her face fell upon seeing Wes beside you, a grin pulling at his own lips. She swore she could feel bile rise in the back of her throat when she realized that the two of you were holding hands. “Someone good, I hope,” you said, chuckling.

You fell into the seat beside Mindy, greeting the rest of the table, and Wes was left to sit across from Amber, shifting uncomfortably beneath her stare.

“Yeah,” Amber said, smirking at the blonde boy. “Someone real good.”

* * *

“Jesus Christ!” Amber groaned as she reached for her phone, which had been ringing non-stop for minutes. “Can’t a girl just get some sleep?” With her eyes half-closed, she answered the call, barking out, “What?” and almost immediately regretting it when your teary voice echoed through the phone.

“Ambs,” you whispered.

She shot up, her eyes wide and worried, her heart pounding in her chest. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I--” You hesitated, and Amber could feel her stomach drop when you sniffled. “Can I come over? It’s my parents.”

Half of her wanted to snark, “Why don’t you call Wes?”, but the other half of her--the half she knew she’d listen to--just wanted to hold you in her arms and keep you safe.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Come over.”

When you hung up, telling her you’d be there in ten minutes, Tara’s voice started to ring through her head: she’s in good hands, Amber. A small, tiny, minuscule part of her that she’d never admit existed almost felt bad for the boy.

* * *

As soon as you arrived, you were crawling beneath Amber’s blankets and wrapping your arms around her waist, your face nuzzling into her neck as you inhaled her scent. She was holding you just as tightly, glad that your tears had subsided in the time it had taken for you to cross town.

“You okay, baby?” Amber asked, her voice loud in the otherwise silent room.

You hummed, shuffling even closer to her. “Better now,” you confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed deeply. “They’re just fighting again. It’s whatever.”

Amber hated when you did that--when you’d brush off the troubles that were going on at home, when you’d brush off your own feelings. Still, there was a flicker of pride in her chest that you had called her rather than Wes.

The two of you settled into comfortable silence for a few minutes, but after a while, Amber could no longer let sleeping dogs lie, and she piped up.

“So, you and Wes.” Her face soured at the boy’s name, and she could feel you tense in her arms. “We should probably talk about that.”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked carefully.

“You like him?”

You sat up, and Amber immediately regretted saying anything at all, missing your warmth. “Can we not do this right now?”

She sat up, too, drawing her knees to her chest. “You called me; you were cuddling with me. I think we have to do this right now, Y/N,” she said, tilting her head. She scoffed when you stayed silent. “Of all the boys at Woodsboro, you had to choose one of our friends?”

“He’s safe, Amber. You saw what happened when I chose at random. You saw,” you said, your voice tight and shaky, and Amber glanced away, images of your bruised wrists flashing through her mind. “At least with Wes, I know he won’t hurt me.”

“Why do you have to choose a guy at all?” she asked. “We both know how you really feel, and you don’t feel anything for that boy.”

You hung your head. “I can’t come out,” you whispered. “You know that. You know what my parents would say, what they’d do.” You looked back up at her. “But you’re right: we both do know how I feel, what I feel.” You reached out, fingers skimming over her hand. “For you.”

Amber cursed the butterflies that stirred in her stomach at the touch and bit the inside of her cheek. “You know I already can’t stand Wes, and I really don’t care about his feelings, but if he finds out--”

“He won’t. They never do.”

“But if he does--”

You interrupted her with a kiss, soft and sweet and loving, and when you pulled away, your forehead pressed against hers, you whispered, “He won’t.”

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #amber x reader #mikey madison x reader #mikey madison #wes hicks x reader #wes hicks #scream 5

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leclercss · 10 months

Text

Tainted Love, Part 3 (Charles Leclerc ft. Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: thanks so much for all of your positive feedback so far. really happy that you guys are enjoying this story. i'm hoping my creative juices stay flowing but in the mean time, let's talk about the husband (ifykyk).

word count: 3.7k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader

What time shall I pick you up? x

Baby, I think we need to talk about yesterday x

Call me when you're awake okay? Love you x

You're currently standing in Charles' kitchen as your eyes scan the unread messages that your husband has sent through the night. You're not sure what you think or how you feel about the messages.

It's the first time since you arrived at Charles' apartment that Lewis has even crossed your mind. You're telling yourself that you should feel some guilt as he's starting to sound a little desperate with his messages but you mostly just miss the feeling of Charles.

It's currently 06:10. You haven't slept much throughout the night, probably about thirty minutes altogether. You and Charles had been keeping each other busy and awake. You'd spent a decent amount of time pleasuring one another. Charles' head had spent a considerable amount of time between your thighs. You had returned the favour to Charles by pleasuring him with your mouth, switching between slow and sensual blowjobs to Charles basically fucking your mouth. This was in between you guys trying out different positions with each other - Charles had loved fucking you from behind but he loved seeing you on top of him more, riding him as your boobs bounced in his face. You'd also spent a lot of time having intimate sex, softly kissing one another and running your hands all over each other's bodies as he moved in and out of you.

But your favourite moments were the ones where you lay on each other, limbs intertwined talking about life. You'd come to learn about each other's lives - about your similarities and your differences. Both of your fathers had passed away when you were in your mid-to-late teens. You both had a love for travelling. Charles was a talented piano player, you could barely play the triangle. You were both silly and playful with one another but compassionate and open to learning more about the person laying in their arms.

It was clear you had a connection but how deep this went, only time would tell.

As you stand in the kitchen, your body covered in one of Charles' t-shirts, which happened to be of Ferrari, your eyes go back to the texts on your phone. How and when do you respond to them?

You'd always thought that if you ever took the opportunity to sleep with someone else other than Lewis you'd have been filled with guilt and regret. But here you stood in another man's apartment, spending the last 5 hours of your life having sex with him and telling him your life story. Lewis was an afterthought.

"Can't sleep?"

The voice behind you takes you out of your thoughts. It has caused you to jump a little both from the surprise but also from the fact that it doesn't belong to Charles. You turn to see one of his friends standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest looking at you. You think this one is Hugo.

"Erm, yeah, I guess. I thought I'd take the chance to check my phone. Charles is currently asleep," you respond.

"You're checking to see if your husband has messaged right?"

You're a little taken aback by his question but you answer him out of politeness. "I hadn't checked my phone since I got here last night. Just checking in on life".

The conversation has taken you by surprise, especially at this hour. You're vague with your answer, not really wanting to dive into a conversation about what you're going to say to your husband after you've been fucking somebody else for the whole night. Especially with someone whose name you can barely remember.

"That's not what I asked, but okay".

His bluntness causes you to frown. You don't want to find yourself in an interrogation over something that's none of his business so you grab your phone and handbag and start to make your way back to Charles' room. But before you make your way down the hall, his voice stops you in your tracks.

"It's nothing personal, by the way. But you're a married woman, who's been having sex with my friend all night," his voice is a little softer this time. "Charles seems unfazed by the fact that you're married but it'd be strange if I didn't have questions. I'm just looking out for my friend".

You turn your head slightly to nod, acknowledging him with a half smile before making your way back to Charles.

You quietly make your way into his room, placing your phone and handbag onto his bedside table before climbing back into bed. You lay your head on his chest and begin to make yourself comfortable when you hear a voice beneath you.

"Mmm... you're back," Charles utters. "Thought you'd sneaked out and left me".

You smile as you tilt your head so you're looking up at him. He's looking down at you, his eyes looking like he could fall back asleep at any moment although he doesn't seem to mind that you've woken him up as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his if it was even possible.

"I was just getting some water in the kitchen before getting my bag and phone," you tell him before placing a couple of kisses on his chest.

"I'm glad you're back," he whispers as his eyes slowly close with a smile plastered on his face. He's about to fall back asleep but he manages to tell you one more thing, "by the way, you look so sexy in my Ferrari top".

You can't help but smile at him before he drifts back to sleep. You stare up at him for a moment, mesmerised by his beauty before laying your head on his chest once more and finally closing your eyes for some well-needed sleep.

The feeling of something hard against your thigh was enough to take you out of your slumber. You let out a little groan as the world starts to come back to you. As you have a quick look over your shoulder, you notice that Charles is well and truly awake. His body is pressed against you from behind and the something hard is his penis erect against you.

"Morning, baby," he whispers in your ear and it's you feel a butterfly in your stomach.

"Mmm... Morning Charles," you mumble as you place your hand on top of the one that he has spread across your stomach.

Charles is clearly eager to feel you up and get back down to business as he's beginning to gently grope at your skin and he lightly thrusts his hips against you so his dick is rubbing you. Your hand reaches back so you can run your fingers through his hair but it's not enough for him. He's impatient and ready to fuck you.

"[Y/N], I want you," he growls into your ear before he begins to lick and suck on your skin just below. You're not putting up much of a defence as one of his knees is pushing your legs open so he has better access to the part of you he's so badly craving.

You're already so wet for him as he starts to rub circles on your clit and a soft moan escapes your lips as you lean further back against his chest.

"Mmmm, that feels good," your voice is delicate as the last of the sleep leaves your body.

Charles clearly isn't in the mood to play around as you feel him push his dick against your slit. He pushes it lightly past your folds and thrusts a couple of time.

"Ohh... Charles," you groan with pleasure.

You feel his breath against your ear, he's panting lightly. Clearly ready, you lower your hand that's still on top of Charles' on your stomach and place it between your legs. You don't hesitate as you use your hand to push his dick inside of you. You both moan simultaneously as he begins to fill you.

He wastes no more time and begins to thrust inside of you immediately. He's spent so much time inside of you that your body needs no time to adjust. You're already moaning for him as he's building his speed inside of you rapidly.

"Oh my god!" you cry as he's starting to pound you from behind. The hand in his hair is now pulling at the strands as you're trying not to moan so loudly but it's a difficult task when he's already fucking you this hard and this fast.

"Charles, don't stop" you moan as you dig your nails into the arm that's wrapped around you. You don't need to tell him to keep going, his pace is still relentless.

"You look so sexy when I'm fucking you like this, amour," he pants in your ear as he started to grope at your boobs that are still covered in his Ferrari t-shirt.

You're basically whimpering in his arms at this point. His pace hasn't faltered once and his stamina is admirable. He's just pounding into you from behind, sending your body into overdrive.

"Please," you don't know what you're saying please for exactly. He takes this as a sign to pleasure you even further as his free hand makes his way down to your clit and he begins to rub circles. Your clit is so swollen and sensitive that just feeling his slightest touch is causing you to hiss.

It's another couple of minutes of Charles pounding the life out of you from behind and you can feel your orgasm fast approaching. He senses this and picks up the pace with your clit, driving you even closer to your orgasm.

"Charles, please," you beg him. The assault on you is almost too much to handle.

"[Y/N], I want to feel you cum for me." You're not sure if it's a command but you soon hit your peak and cry out as your orgasm hits you in waves.

Charles continues to fuck you through your high as he's now fast approaching his own climax. He's so lost in fucking you that he almost pulls out too late before he's spilling his cum onto your thigh, grunting in the process.

"Merde!"

His body finally relaxes around you as he lays on his back. You're still recovering from your orgasm when you feel his fingers gently tracing along your spine.

"Amour, that was incredible," he whispers as he's still catching his breath. You finally find the energy to roll over and lay your head against his chest.

"It was," you whisper as you lay a peck on his chest and shut your eyes, taking in this feeling.

It was hard to say goodbye to Charles but you knew that at some point you had to return home. To return to your husband.

After having a shower with Charles, where you used it as one last opportunity to touch and grope one another, you realised that you'd left your spare clothes and bag at Whitney's. Deciding that you weren't ready to rock up at her house in another man's clothes, you made the decision to wear one of Charles' t-shirts and pair of shorts back home and you'd pick up your bags later. You knew she'd have questions about your dancing and kiss with Charles last night.

A kiss you could explain, but rocking up in random clothes when you told her you'd gone home was going to be a lot harder to talk your way out of.

As you sat in the Uber heading back to your apartment, you remembered how you had left Charles with a passionate kiss and a promise that you'd see each other again soon.

Despite the many hours you had spent with Charles, you still weren't 100% sure of how "open relationships" truly worked. And you were beginning to think of the questions you were going to get from Lewis when you rocked up in Charles' clothes.

The thing is, what could he say to you? You hadn't broken the rules you had agreed when you accepted the terms of the open marriage:

No friends, no friends of friends, no colleagues, no ex-colleagues, no falling in love and no pregnancies. Basically, there was to be no evidence or trace left behind to spare the other's feelings. God, how did you buy into this bullshit idea?

But one thing you had never agreed on or discussed was the possibility of sleeping with the same person more than one time - unless it was with each other.

Reality was starting to sink in and you were beginning to realise that you had just as many questions about all of this as you predicted Lewis would have when you finally made it home.

"Hey babe, am I allowed to fuck the same guy over and over again?"

As much as you originally hated this whole arrangement and had told yourself you wouldn't partake in this open marriage, you were beginning to realise that you were getting yourself into dangerous territory. This wasn't your game to play but now you couldn't help yourself. You'd had the taster with Charles and you'd be going back for a second course.

Or a third, or fourth, or fifth.

Shit! You tell yourself to get it together, you're about 10 minutes away from home and you notice that Lewis still hasn't replied to your text saying that you were on the way home. But he's read the text. Based on how constant his texts were last night, you knew he was going to be pissed if he hasn't replied.

Before pulling up outside your apartment building, you send a text to Whitney asking if you could call by at some point to pick up your things before the weekend was up. This could be your excuse to leave if things got heated with Lewis again.

You make your way into your apartment building and say a little prayer to yourself before facing what you expect to be the wrath of your husband.

"Yeah, well how many girls have you fucked?"

That was going to be your argument if things got heated. Surely that was enough, right?

You take a deep breath as you begin to open your front door and make your way inside. It's quiet.

You shut the door and make your way into the living room, not really sure whether to call out Lewis' name to let him know that you're home or to basically sneak in and get changed out of Charles' clothes as soon as possible.

Your choice is made for you as you see Lewis sprawled across the couch with his eyes completely glued to his phone. The British bulldog which you share, Roscoe, is lying by his side.

"Hey," your voice is so quiet you're not sure if Lewis hears you as he's still tapping away on his phone. But he must have decided to ignore you as Roscoe lifts his head at the sound of your voice and pants with excitement as he sees you standing in the doorway. He climbs off of Lewis and makes his way over to you, running around your feet.

"Hey cutie," you giggle as you lean down to hug and pet him.

After a moment of playing with Roscoe, you look over at Lewis to see if he's looking away from his phone yet. He's not. He's still tapping furiously at his phone. His tongue slightly poking out from the side and his eyebrows are crossed.

"Hey, Lew," you say. You stand up and the dog at your feet makes his way back to Lewis on the sofa, placing himself by Lewis' feet.

"Nice to know that someone knows how to come back to me, hey Roscoe," Lewis grunts. He's still looking at his phone.

So this was going to be his attitude? You try not to roll your eyes, knowing that if Lewis catches it his passive-aggressive attitude will only worsen.

"Nice to see you too," you mumble as you sit down on one of the armchairs as you look over to Lewis.

He's silent for a few moments, still tapping away. You want to take the phone out of his hand but that idea is put on hold as he speaks his first words to you since returning home.

"Good night?"

That was it?

"Erm, yeah, it was," you could barely hear your own voice. Now that he was speaking to you, all of the confidence you had in the Uber has left your body.

"Yeah, must have been a good one," he continues. He locks his phone and places it on his stomach so he can finally look at you. And when he does, his dark brown eyes feel like they're staring into your soul. "I can tell it was a good one because you've turned up in someone else's clothes".

Shit.

"Even though you brought a bag with you last night. You stayed at Whitney's right?"

You gulp. You're royally fucked.

"We went back to someone else's for afters," you tell him. I mean, it wasn't really a lie? You did go to someone else's for afters.

"And you didn't go back to Whitney's to get your stuff before coming here?" He's staring at you still. You're not sure if his expression is one of amusement or anger.

"Erm, no... the place was closer to here than to Whitney's," you lie.

He starts laughing. He's actually laughing at you.

"Okay, [Y/N]. You don't need to embarrass yourself with these lies. If you went back to someone else's house and fucked him just say it," he chuckles.

But you don't say anything. Your nerves are growing by the second and you're not sure if you want to pass out or throw up as the conversation is developing. He has some nerve. All of the times he's slept with someone behind your back and he's sitting here laughing at you.

But he doesn't laugh for much longer as his facial expression turns.

"I said say it!" the tone of his voice shocks you and you're no longer confused about the expression in his eyes. He's furious. You're pretty sure the only reason he hasn't shouted at you is to stop Roscoe from barking like mad. The poor dog went crazy when you and Lewis were screaming at each other the other day.

You're not really sure what your next move will be. You're trying to hear your own thoughts but your heart is beating so loudly that it's basically thumping in your ears. You can't think. All you can do is just look at Lewis who's anger and frustration with you is growing by the second.

"You really can't say it huh?" he scoffs before picking himself off the sofa and storming into the kitchen. Roscoe follows suit.

You take a moment before you go after him. You're not sure why you decide to follow him. Curiosity? Stupidity? God knows but you both know the conversation isn't finished.

You walk into Lewis slamming pots and pans around as if he's attempting to make something but all he's doing is causing chaos and poor Roscoe is following him helplessly and confused.

"Go away, [Y/N]".

You let out a sigh as your eyes follow your husband's movements.

"Lewis, can you just stop for a second?" you plead with him but your plea falls on deaf ears.

"What part of go away do you not understand?"

This time you can't help but scoff, growing tired of his antics. After the way he's treated you for the last eighteen months, something inside of you is telling you to finally grow some balls.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You've slept with how many women during our marriage and you're mad at me?" you cry out.

Your eyes are still on Lewis. His hands are gripping onto the counter, his back turned away from you. His fingers are going white with the pressure and tension he's putting on them. "It's not the same thing!"

You scoff again and you're surprised it doesn't cause Lewis to lose it altogether but he's using every restraint in his body not to shout at you.

You want to tell him to fuck off at his hypocrisy. You agreed to this bullshit situation for him and he's the one that's pissed?

"How is it not the same thing?"

This time your voice is louder. You're digging your nails into your hands to stop you from screaming. He doesn't answer you.

You give him another couple of seconds. He says nothing. You notice his body is starting to shake. But you don't care, you're going to push his buttons with your newfound confidence, "Oh! Now you're the one who doesn't want to answer?"

It's almost like you want him to break. You want to push his buttons so hard for him to snap at you. To show that he actually gives an ounce of crap about you.

Roscoe's now barking at the tension in the room. Lewis is still quiet. Still looking away from you.

How has he not snapped yet?

The tension in the room is like a pressure cooker. Ready to explode at any moment.

"Lew-"

"You're wearing his fucking clothes!" His outburst is met with his palms hitting the countertop with pure rage.

He's finally snapped. He finally turns to face you and you have never seen him look so angry. At least not when it came to you.

"You fucked him? Fine! But you broke a fucking rule," his voice is so loud that even Roscoe has stopped barking out of shock.

You say nothing. You just look at him. His chest is rising and falling dramatically. His eyes are almost black with anger and he's now gripping onto his braids to somehow stop himself from doing something stupid.

He's not done. "You barely answer your phone after we've had the biggest argument of our relationship. You stroll in here at 1:30 in the afternoon as if you haven't been gone for almost two days already and you don't even have the decency to change into your own clothes? And you're here, wearing his clothes as if it's some fucking achievement that you've finally shagged someone else. Well, congratulations!"

Silence.

You don't really know what to say. You're not sure if you want to nominate him for an Oscar or burst into tears. Instead, you just look at him, stunned into silence.

Lewis finally makes the first move as he walks towards the doorway, towards you. He's about to pass you but he stops right in front of you, this time he's no longer looking at you as if he's ashamed of you. Like a parent who's disappointed in their child.

"I may have started this whole thing but you've brought a piece of him into our home," he growls before walking past you.

You've broken a rule.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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xxcherrydevilxx · 4 months

Text

Fuck Away the Pain

— Dazai x femreader x Chuuya

— Warnings: NSFW (obvi) angsty smut, rough sex, minors dni

— Summary/Author Notes: never wrote actual fanfiction and posted it on Tumblr before, listened to “fuck away the Pain” by Divide the Day and wanted to write about a playboy Dazai hurting the reader and making them go to Chuuya in desperation. I am a woman with simple wants. Sloppy writing and even sloppier editing due to never posting fanfic before. might write more if I get notes who knows

— Word Count: 4615

— Afterthoughts: Truly wanted to make this porn with no plot to keep it short, ended up doing the exact fucking opposite. Am not reading this entire thing for the 7th time to check for spelling and grammar errors, please just feast.

You were so fucking stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

Had you really thought Osamu Dazai would truly be yours? How fucking stupid could you even be? The pet names, the way he touched you, the gifts, sure they were nice but did you ever hear him really call you anything other than the usual “Belladonna”?

God what a fool you were, a stupid fool who fell in love with a man who knew he could wrap any man or woman around his finger. Laughable truly, that you thought you were the only one to ever know the embrace of Dazai, the only one to feel his tongue slip inside your mouth.

SO fucking stupid you were.

And that's how you found yourself, stumbling in your nice dress and even nicer heels down a dirty no-name road while the rain poured down on your sorry state. You had caught him, practically fucking another woman against the wall of the place he had asked you to meet up at weeks prior. You were too stunned to speak when you heard the soft moans and rough growls from a dimly lit alleyway, causing you to investigate out of stupid curiosity.

When Dazai caught you out of the corner of his eyes he didn’t even drop the woman he was holding roughly against the brick wall, he just unlatched his lips from her bruised and marked neck to say he was busy and they'd “meet another time,” yeah, sure! you'd get right on that next meet-up after blocking his number and changing your locks.

Such a fucking idiot you were, why did you even get him a copy of your apartment key? What? You thought he would come and cozy up next to you, build a life with you? Ha, how rich of a thought.

Through your blurry vision, obscured by both your tears and the rain from the sky that seemed to mourn with you, a neon bar sign shone like a haven, a safe place to regain your composure somewhere warm and dry… And get fucking wasted so you couldn’t remember the look of the woman twitching and whining against Dazai once he had stopped biting her to give you a quick comment.

So, that's how you found your drenched self on a bar stool, knocking back shots of a burning whiskey and chasing it with another shot of sake to get you as drunk as possible. You were surprised the bartender had kept serving you after your fifth ask of liquor, you half thought they might have begun watering down the drinks to slow your intoxication. You didn’t mind, you kept drinking and kept thinking of your idiocy.

He had played you so well, or maybe he knew you were so stupid that you wouldn’t ask questions about where he would run off to, or why you only saw him sparingly at times. At first, you just thought it was his work, he never outright said that but you had assumed it to be the truth because… because you were an idiot.

Another shot, another whiskey, another sake, another whatever the hell was behind that bar.

“You’ll drink ‘im dry you know,” a voice had teased behind you. Making you snarl and whip your head around, your wet hair catching on your cheek and getting stuck against the still-cold skin. What a sordid state you must look like to the other patrons, but there were practically zero other clients except you and a few men out after dark. Couldn’t they tell you wanted to be left alone? That something was wrong for you to be drinking this much and that you just wanted to enjoy your liquor and get the hell out once you felt inebriated enough.

“I didn’t ask for commentary,” you fired back, your eyes catching on the figure that had spoken to you. What caught you by surprise was the man’s attire, and then after that the striking orange hair that framed his face. But what irritated you the most after you took in the arrogant man who wore such gaudy attire to match his personality was the smirk that played on his lips as he looked down upon you.

“Well, then maybe don't get obscenely drunk in a public bar.” he had shot back with ease. Jesus fucking Christ couldn’t you drown your sorrows in peace? Why did every annoying man have to seek you out?

“If you really think Mr. Bartender there is still serving me anything other than watered-down shots I’d have to say you are almost as dumb as me.” you hissed out at the man, giving him your meanest glare before turning back to your drinks. You had to admit, the buzz you were nursing didn’t seem to be growing any worse despite your best efforts. You could still see with perfect memory the image of your assumed-to-lover with another woman every time you closed your eyes.

“Oh, good, at least you know you're stupid” -the man muttered under his breath as he took the empty seat next to you. Waving a hand to get the attention of the bartender- “I thought I would have to tell you that, then also tell you that dress of yours is really easy to see through after getting it wet.”

You wanted to strangle him. By god, you wanted to kill him with your own hands.

The best you could do though was throw your drink at him, soaking his expensive red vest that covered the white shirt underneath it. Now that seemed to get him pissed, and you relished in it.

“Nobody ever teach you to leave drunkards alone?” you sneered, giving him a devilish smile as you watched him practically shortcircuit at your actions.

“And did nobody ever teach you not to mess with the Port Mafia, doll?” He snarled back. Quickly grabbing an excess amount of napkins to dab onto his vest to try and soak up any of the liquid so it wouldn’t stain his clothes any further.

It took you more than a few seconds to register his words, and you hated to admit you only took in the pet name first before realizing the more dangerous term he spoke.

The Port Mafia? That Port Mafia? The one Dazai always complained about and whined excessively regarding one of their executives. You didn’t even really care about it, sure you knew of them but in what world would you ever meet them? You strictly told Dazai you would never get in between his work life and personal life, somewhat for him but mostly for you. Because you saw how dangerous it could be, and you wanted to live relatively peacefully without worry of getting shot by some person with an axe to grind. And now you went and dumped your shot on one of their members? After trying so hard to remain surrounded in obscurity to never catch such a prolific gang's attention?

God how fucking stupid could you be in one night.

He must have seen your face change to an ashen white after realizing what he had just uttered, and he let out a snort of amusement at it, which only furthered made you think you were going to get fucking killed, or at least go home missing a few teeth.

“Listen I- I didn’t know how could I- I mean-” you started to ramble before being caught off by a cock of his head and the furrow of his eyebrows.

“Because you're practically in our territory?” he replied, his voice oozing with annoyance after realizing how dumb you truly were.

“I- listen dude I had a hell of a rough night please I'm sorry I’ll- I’ll get your dry cleaning or whatever the hell you want just let me pay my bill and leave.” you began to plead. Groveling was all you knew in an instance such as this, and you hoped he would show kindness... Who are you kidding when had the Port Mafia been known for Kindness?

He scoffed at you, “Dry cleaning? A rough night? Does it look like I give a shit, doll?” you practically flinched at his words. Of course, this wouldn’t work, his clothes probably cost a fortune anyhow. You could never afford the bill, or even afford to pay him back for the ruined clothes. You were going to die, he would pull a gun on you and shoot you in the head, painting the walls a sickeningly red color.

“Chuuya… give her a rest, you knew better.” the bartender’s gruff voice murmured as he sat a glass down in front of him. Wait- Chuuya? Chuuya? Like the executive, Dazai always groaned about?

“Chuuya?” you oppugned, somehow finding your voice to ask the pissed-off man a question. He scowled at you once he heard you speak.

“Chuuya as in like- one of the executives from the Port Mafia?” you asked dumbly. Your heart skipping a beat as the man’s eyes seemed to light ever so slightly at the recognition.

“Well how ‘bout that, at least you seem to know something doll,” he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. His eyes held on you for a heartbeat, before he shrugged off his long black coat to hang over your shoulders. You startled at the action, instinctively leaning backward once his hands reached out towards you.

“I really did mean what I said,” he muttered. Taking a swig of his drink as his cheeks flushed slightly and he averted his gaze from you.

You cocked your head in confusion; what did he say again? That he was in the Port Mafia, that you were stupid, that your dress-

You pulled the coat tightly around yourself, acutely aware of how the soaked fabric clung tightly to your skin. How long had you sat there while your dress only further soaked your skin to ice? How long could people see what was hidden under the cloth? Why did you only realize now?

“Thanks.” you begrudgingly muttered to the cocky ginger. Your hand snaking out of the oddly comforting warm coat to grab the abandoned glass in front of you to drag to your lips. He dipped his head as if to let you know he heard you and continued to drink.

Both of you stayed like that for a while. Nursing your own drinks side by side as the rain continued to come down loudly outside. The space between you both on the barstools was as tense as you were being in his coat. You absently thought “What would Dazai think?” if he knew you were here, drinking in the dead of night with a man he would spit obscenities about when he talked of work. What would he think if he knew you were draped in his coat, that you were trying to discretely peek over at him? Taking in his figure and his face... Which now that the smug smirk was wiped off it seemed strikingly handsome under the bar lights.

“Why the rough night.” he had asked. His voice broke the silence as if it were a crack of lightning coming down right where he sat. You jumped slightly at it, turning your head fully this time to look at him. You could tell he was looking at you from the corner of his grey eyes, and you swallowed hard as you willed your voice to work.

“This… guy I was seeing,” you made sure to leave Dazai’s name out, not wanting to put a warrant on your head if Chuuya disliked him as much as Dazai did. “I caught him with another girl. It’s not like we were official or anything it just- stung.. Made me feel like a fool” you mumbled into your drink, your lips playing on the rim of the crystal glass as you waited for Chuuya to also call you a fool, or to laugh at your sad love story. But he remained quiet, only turning to give you his full attention-

God, either you were more drunk than you were aware or the man you dumped a drink on was shockingly attractive.

You wished you could go back and make a better impression, wondering if instead of falling for Dazai you could have fallen for him. Would he have treated you better? Or were he and Dazai the sides of the same coin? Knowing your abysmal luck it was probably the latter.

“That's rough.” was all he responded. His eyes were still on you as you stared down into your half-empty glass.

“Ha, no... I should have expected as much,” you laughed. Your voice took on a tinge of sadness as you recounted again, for the millionth time, the sight of the man you once loved having another girl pushed up against a wall.

And what was even worse than that memory was all the other ones. The good memories, laying with Dazai tangled in your sheets as he rubbed circles in your back. The smell of morning coffee that he would bring to you as you lay in bed. The soft kisses he would plant on your face when he had to leave.

Your eyes were getting misty and you rubbed harshly at them, hating the fact you were beginning to tear up again. You didn’t want to cry- wouldn’t- over a man like him. You wouldn’t give him another thought, you would wash him from your brain and never think of how his brunette hair fell lazily over his eyes, how he smiled at you when he saw you waiting for him-

Who were you kidding? You couldn’t stop thinking of him. He plagued your mind this entire time as you had sat next to Chuuya. The only time your brain paused its replays of Dazai was when you had gotten into a petty argument before knowing who the man next to you was.

“I can take your mind off it.” his words hung in the space between you both. as his eyes continued to drink you in, their half-lidded look making you want to sink into his arms. You were already getting too wound up, he probably didn't mean that sexually… of course not, you were crazy. You had thrown a drink on him and called him stupid and you didn’t even know who he was before the bartender said his name. How could he possibly want you?

He wanted you. You found that after taking up on his offer and following him out into the rain. His coat still snugly wrapped around your form. You half expected to go back to his place to drink more, this time without the annoyance of a bartender keeping you from getting fully drunk. You were surprised when he gently pushed you against the wall of the bar outside, his lips finding yours and softly kissing them. Your breath hitched and you looked up into his silver eyes as the rain poured down on the both of you, wetting your lips with your tongue you willed him to kiss you again. Your mind frayed and the buzz you had, added on with the kiss from the handsome Chuuya had made you forget almost everything from the morning prior with Dazai.

He seemed to read your expression with ease, this time hungrily taking your lips for himself. his tongue slipping inside your mouth to explore. You pressed your body flush against him, the rain making both of you practically stick together. You focused entirely on this kiss, this moment, the rain, and the feeling of his hands on your hips. The way his tongue slid over yours, the way he kissed so much differently in comparison to Dazai.

He bit your bottom lip gently before pulling away to look at you with eyes filled with desire and lust, it made you weak to your core and your knees practically jelly.

He had taken you back to his place, where? You didn’t really care to know. All you cared about was the way his hands explored your icy skin with slow purpose as you stumbled beside him. You itched to get to a bed, to peel off your wet clothes and for him to be atop you, his hands taking you roughly instead of the unhurried pace he took as he led you to his home.

Once you had made it to his bed, the covers velvety red and unmade you practically felt yourself give out. This is what you needed, this is so desperately what you needed after such a shitty night. A handsome man, a soft bed, and your mind to be overtaken by the thought of pleasure.

Now that you were splayed across the sheets, your wet clothes discarded in a heap by the bedroom door, and with Chuuya kissing his way down your body as if to warm you up from the cold, all you wished for was for him to hurry it up. The teasing was torturous, his tongue and lips taking such a languid approach to the way your body responded to his touch. He wanted to test out seemingly every way he could give you pleasure without actually letting you ride that high. Massaging your thighs that rubbed together to gain some type of relief. The way you yelped when his teeth bit into your breast. The way he watched your face like a hawk as he maneuvered himself to be between your wet and hot thighs. The way his stare bore into you made you flush even more and your core tighten, trying to hide your face in the sheets. His hand quickly snaked up your body to grab you by the chin and turn your face back to him.

“Watch me, doll.” his voice was thick with want. You could feel the heat rolling off him against your sex as his eyes flickered down to the slick heat between your legs. Just like before his tongue was painstakingly slow as he licked his way up to your sensitive clit, before he pulled away to watch how such a small amount of stimulation made you shake and your breath come out fast and ragged. You whined insistently as you moved your hips as if asking him to go back between them. Chuuya chuckled at your antics, placing one hand on your hip to still your movement.

“You’re quite needy, yknow?” he teased. His hand rubbed soft circles into your hip, which made you instinctively think of Dazai and his rough hands being so gentle on your skin. You blinked back fresh hot tears as the unwanted memory surfaced and you heaved out a shuddering breath. Raising your upper half to look at Chuuya with serious determination, you could tell it caught him off guard as he stilled his petting on your hips and waist.

“Not that. None of that. Make me” -you licked your lips as your breath caught in your throat- “Make me forget, Chuuya.” you pleaded, and you could see something snap in the ginger as his name left your lips with passion.

He got to quick work of making sure you forgot anything and everything to do with your past lover. His tongue and lips worked wonders on you as you moaned his name and rolled your hips against his face. His breath was hot against your skin as he took your sensitive clit into his lips and gently bit down on the bundle of nerves, making you see stars and your voice choke out a strangled moan as you came on his face. Your chest heaved quick and fast, trying to find a moment of reprieve from your intense climax from all the edging Chuuya had given to you before your hasty request.

The rest was short-lived as his body hovered above yours, his hands digging into your skin as he let out a ragged breath. His hair was a mess, his lips covered in you and his chest heaving in tandem with yours. His hands, which had surely given your waist bruises from the force he held you down into the mattress, moved to take out his thick cock that was slick with his precum. Your breath hitched at the sight, your eyelashes fluttering as you took in the sight. Chuuya could tell the sight of him turned you on more than before, and it made him let out a shuddering groan as he moved his hand lazily up and down the shaft, trying to quell his own needs.

“Now- ha- doll,” his breath came out fast as he pumped himself slowly as he took in your shaking form underneath him.

“How much do you wish to forget?” he asked. His voice was gruff and shallow with want as he watched your face for a look of understanding. Your eyes were still on the twitching member in his hand, you wanted to touch it, to taste it, to see Chuuya come undone because of you and you alone. It took you a few minutes to register his words, and you only came back when he took his free hand to your throat and lightly pressed down as if trying to gain your attention back to him and his words.

“Ah- uhm-” you shook your head slightly. You hadn’t heard him, you barely heard his ragged breath because your gaze was fixed on his cock.

“Repeat yourself against, Chuuya,” you asked. Which made the hand that was still gently wrapped around your throat squeeze it ever so tightly, eliciting a gasp from you before making your stomach tighten and your sex get even wetter at the feeling.

“I know you’re” -he gritted his teeth to stop himself from moaning at the way you're shyly let out a moan as his hand gripped your throat- ”I know you’re fucking dumb, but when I speak I expect to be listened to.” You loved the way he spoke to you, the way his grip was getting ever so tighter around your throat. The way his eyes drilled into you.

“Yes- sorry- I just-” You let out a hiss of pain as his hand tightened even more, stopping you from finishing your sentence.

“I don't want an apology,” he growled as he positioned himself at your entrance, his hand around your throat loosening ever so slightly as he took you in, the way he could feel your breath still in your throat because of how much you wanted him made him come undone.

“I just want you to remember for next time,” he said roughly, before slamming his hips into yours with such ferocity it made your head snap back and your toes dig into the sheets to steady yourself.

His pace was even more brutal, and his hand never left your throat. The free one found its way underneath your back to pull you closer to him as he thrusted into you with the speed of an animal. Your moans were fast and high pitched, the sweet feeling of pain and pleasure mixing together into one made tears prick the corner of your eyes. You felt him shift his weight and dip his head towards you, his hair tickling the side of your face as his tongue darted out to lap up your salty tears, making you moan out his name as you watched his eyes snap to your lips before devouring them. His pace never slowed, and the pressure on your neck never slackened. He was driving you mad, the lack of oxygen, the taste of his lips and the sound of his hips slamming against yours only made you chase your high. He muffled your high-pitched moans and cries, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he continued to deprive you of air. You could feel the coil at the pit of your stomach tighten more and more with every different stimulation from the man on top of you. You felt yourself on the verge of snapping, tears pooling in your eyes before slipping down your hot face. Chuuya pulled away once again to lick up the tears that trickled down your face, his tongue sending chills down your spine as you finally gulped in air for your lungs.

“Atta girl,” he growled into your ear, and you felt that coil snap.

You spasmed in his hold, and his mouth moved from your ear to your neck as he bit down harshly and somehow, god how you wished you knew, picked up an even faster pace as he helped your climax meet its fullest and deepest desires. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands hastily came up to wrap around his back and dig your nails into his skin as you screamed until your voice was hoarse.

Chuuya relished the sound, the way your entire body tensed and clung to him as if he was the only thing that could remedy the wild pleasure that shot through your body and filled your mind with delirious desires. He could feel his own climax approaching and he bit harder into your neck, tasting your blood as his ears were trained to the sounds you made. When you began to chant his name under your breath, was when his hips stuttered and he came inside of you. He fell on top of you, his hand slipping away from your throat to allow you to fully breathe in sweet oxygen after the torture you must have endured at your climax. He hazily looked at the mark he made on your skin, the small droplets of blood slipping down your skin as you gasped for air. He lazily licked around the wound and sucked the blood, waiting for you to come back to him and for you to say his name again.

He wanted to ask you to stay the night, he was sure you wouldn't be able to walk home anyway, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of rain still coming down outside.

“Doll..” he cooed, rolling off you and onto his back. You moved your eyes to take him in, the way his eyes were hazy and unfocused, his hair even more wild than before, and the cocky smile he had on his lips at the sight of you… what you must look like to him.

“Hm?” was all you could muster out as a reply, still trying to regain your breath as your body still sporadically twitched from the aftershock of such an intense climax.

“Stay the night… I can’t have you go back out in that rain,” he mumbled, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face. You leaned into his touch, you knew you told him at the start no softness... But now, you could hardly remember why you asked that in the first place.

“Mhm, sure, Chuuya,” you breathed, rolling closer into his embrace. He held you tight to his chest, which was slick with sweat. You could feel him fiddle with your hair absentmindedly. As you slowly closed your eyes, comforted by the feeling of his heartbeat and the soothing feeling of his hand in your hair, you suddenly remembered something he said. Your eyes popped open, and you pushed your hands onto his chest to hover your face above his. “Wait- Chuuya- did you say there would be a next time?” you asked, bewildered. His loud and sharp laugh echoed through the room and you blushed furiously at the idea of doing this again. But despite the embarrassment, you felt oddly happy that Chuuya wanted you again, and you were excited to take him up on the offer.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bungostraydogs #bsd x reader #nakahara chuuya #bsd smut #bsd x you

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czennieszn · 3 months

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the magic of christmastime | l. castellan ❆

part 2: we're like snow on the beach

child of aphrodite reader (Y/N) x luke castellan (fluff, angst)

It's snowing in Camp Half-Blood, the morning you and Luke are going to NYC. Like the snow that settles on the beach of camp, you two are so extremely different. Yet when paired together, it feels unreal yet so perfect at the same time. Yet will that perfectness last forever? You think to yourself, as Silena Beaurguard's unusual warning keeps nagging at the back of your mind.

w.c. 2.8K taglist: @songofthesuns @ellaisafrog

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You knew life was going smoothly when you had woken up after a night with no nightmares. Zero. Ziltcha. Nada. You were eternally grateful for the lack of dreams because the last thing that you needed was a looming shadow of a thought plaguing your mind like a sorrowful afterthought on such an eventful day. To cut to the chase, you were extremely excited.

Brushing your teeth, you felt a grin started to creep up your face. It seemed silly, at first. You and Luke had been dating for a while, yet you still got excited for dates? That was the magic of dating Luke, you felt warm and safe in his presence, always giving you flutters in your stomach and making you stutter when you spoke. Noticing your unusually chipper mood (as well as the blooming blush across your face), Silena nudged your shoulder as she gave you a cheeky grin.

"What's got you smiling like that? Or rather, I wonder who?" She teased you. Of course, it was Luke who was the cause behind your adoration, but she still liked to tease you.

You must have had a noticeable blush on your face because Silena laughed out loud, catching your expression. You tried to put a grimace on your face, trying to deflect her teasing, but the edges of your mouth refused to do so and curled into a laidback smile.

"I'm going on a field trip today with Luke" you carefully started. "Mhm," Silena waited.

"To New York City".

"Oh!" Silena gasped, surprised. Sure, it was known to camp that you and Luke had dates at least once a week, and sometimes, almost every day (once you were finished with cabin duties of course). But it was the first time that you two were leaving camp together. Alone, just you two. Albeit, still together, but with the freedom from annoying campers and annoying authority figures.

Safe to say, you were literally knawing at the iron bars of your enclosure (yes, a joke, you weren't locked up) to get alone time with Luke.

"And Chiron and Mr. D just let you go?" Silena questioned.

"Yeah… last night Luke and I asked and it took quite a bit of convincing, but they gave us permission to go," you responded.

"Wow, that's…pretty nice," Silena dejectedly said. Her head hung low as she avoided your eyes while spitting out her toothpaste. That was pretty unlike her, to not look you in the eyes while you two spoke.

What's wrong?" you said, noticing the fault in her voice and her abnormal behavior. As she continued to avoid eye contact, Silena hesitated before answering your question.

"It's just that, there have been so many dangerous things going on. So many dangerous monsters are regenerating quickly after being sent to Tartarus. To be frank, I'm quite scared for your safety," Silena quietly said. She fiddled with the silver chain bracelets that adorned her wrist. Unsure if what she said was too harsh to you, you could see her gulp nervously.

"We will be safe, I promise," you urged. Before you could continue, Silena looked up and cut you from justifying your departure.

"Honestly, it is a bit irresponsible that Chiron and Mr. D are letting you leave camp, I mean. Is that the best decision?" Silena was now getting heated. "Can't you guys just have another one of your dates at the lake or in the mountains, or something? Just within camp boundaries, of course," Sensing her concerns, you tried your best to alleviate her stress.

"We are senior counselors, we can take care of ourselves. Thank you for your concern, Silena," you soothed her. (Or at least tried, it wasn't soothing because you still had some toothpaste in your mouth. You probably looked and sounded silly, as you were still eye-crust-ridden and half asleep.)

"It doesn't matter that you two are senior counselors, it's still unsafe out there!" Silena said, and you could hear a slight shake in her voice. Quickly spitting out your toothpaste, you could see that she was genuinely upset and worried.

Her face was etched with lines of disappointment and dissatisfaction clouded her vision. Hugging her, you could hear her voice hitch as she tried to swallow her worries. She was nearly about to break down and cry in your arms. You knew that same god-awful feeling of holding your tongue at the roof of your mouth to prevent the tears from escaping you.

Trying your best not to smudge her eyeliner, you took your freshly manicured nails and wiped a spare tear that fell from her right eye. "You're my sister, you know that right?" She quietly whispered.

"I know, Silena," you whispered back, squeezing her arm.

"And I would rather die than let anything happen to you," Silena buried her head in your neck.

"I know, Silena," you whispered again.

"Please, please, please promise me that you won't be distracted and that you will stay safe," she continued, her voice muffled as her head was tucked in the cashmere fabric of your turtleneck. (I know she was crying but if she got a bit of snot on my turtleneck I would be moderately pissed off)

"I promise you," you hugged her tighter.

She looked up at you, her voice now clear. "There will come a day where Luke won't even be able to protect you, and you have to stay safe and protect yourself. You hear me?" Silena said as the tone of her voice suddenly became even. It scared you because you had no idea what she was talking about. But to appease her from droning on about her sudden, strange insinuation, you nodded vigorously.

"Promise me please?" She said, her voice now back to an uneven tone.

"I promise you, Silena. I will stay safe, I will protect myself," you said. You couldn't tell what was wrong with her, but you knew that she needed a hug.

"Okay, I trust you," she said as she released you from the tight embrace you had held her in. Just like a light switch, her demeanor changed from the expression of a worrisome mother to the cheery smile she always had on her face every day. The quick change was unnerving, and your smile faltered from your face.

What the hell, you thought. Is she genuinely okay? The question died on the tip of your tongue, as you refrained from asking her that. Yeah, that's probably the last thing she'd want to hear right now, as you knew she still didn't want to talk about her most recent breakup with this guy from the Hypnos cabin.

"What do you plan to do in the city?" Silena asked, snapping you out of your inner monologue. You were extremely disconcerted, as she had pretended like she wasn't two and a half seconds away from having a mental breakdown in front of her.

Masking your confusion on your face, you answered her. Gods, you two were such great pretenders. Little did you know, Luke was a great pretender as well.

Babbling on about the stores you planned to go to and the foods that you hoped to try, you could visibly see the tension leave Silena. Her shoulders started to sag as she became comfortable and her voice when responding to your inquiries started to relax. Once she laughed, you were at ease.

The girl talk seemed to go on for a while, and you quickly realized you needed to meet Luke at the Dining Pavilion for an early breakfast. Bidding Silena a quick goodbye and an extra-special extra-tight hug, you gathered your belongings and neatly put them in your purse.

You spedwalk to the Pavilon, noticing you were a bit late. You arrived there soon, noticing that it was only Luke, you, and a few other older campers who had gotten up for an early breakfast. A girl from the Athena cabin waved to you, and you smiled, waving to her back.

Noticing a new presence, Luke looked up from his eggs. His demeanor changed from stoic, deep concentration, to a laidback smile that rested on his face. Walking over, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist as he squeezed it. You could see his face up close, his bright brown eyes twinkling like flying saucers from another planet. His face was angled to the sun, and you could see specks of green in his eyes. Like an aurora borealis green, he looked breathtaking, as he was beautifully sculpted by the Gods. Gods, you had never seen someone so beautiful they were lit from within.

"Good morning, Princess," he drawled, whispering in your hair. Your hair tickled your ear, and you shuddered, knowing the effect he had on you. Smirking -as he also knew the effect on you- he continued his greeting. "How was your sleep baby?"

Gods of Olympus, you loved his morning voice. It was deep and raspy, and it never failed to give you butterflies. Every day that you spent with him made you feel youthful, forever a teenager who was stupidly in love.

"Not bad, no nightmares," you excitedly responded, putting one hand on his chest. He automatically flexed, feeling your palm on his sweater. Such a silly boy, but that's why I love him.

"Mhm," he said, and you could tell he was still under a drowsy spell. He's so cute when he's tired.

"You tired, babe?" You nudged him awake. He shot up, widening his eyes as if to show you he was not dozing off on your shoulder.

"Nope, not at all!" he sassily retorted. You just looked up at him and smiled. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the Hermes table that he sat at. Looking around, you scanned the area for Chiron or Mr. D, knowing that they would immediately lecture you once they saw you sitting at the wrong table. You two had done this before, sitting at each other's tables when you weren't supposed to, but you never got caught. If you two got caught today, it would be the absolute worst.

"Sorry I was a little late," you said as you sat next to Luke. Breakfast had already been set in front of you, courtesy of Luke asking the dryads to prepare both of you breakfast. He knew what you liked to eat, and what you couldn't stand eating. Taking a bite out of your avocado toast with tomatoes and eggs, you smiled at the satisfying crunch.

Thinking into the enchanted goblet, you wished to have hot cocoa. Magically, it appeared in your cup. A winter day deserved a winter breakfast.

"Did you sleep in because you were dreaming of me? It's not the first time it's happened you know" Luke raised an eyebrow, and you playfully smacked him on his chest. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

A while back, a child of Hypnos was stalking your dream (as a child of Hypnos can magically appear in one's dream, that is so not fair!), and blabbed to Luke you were having a dream about him. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing, as Luke had confronted you the morning after having the dream. Your relationship was still pretty new, and you remember you turned a deep shade of beet red after hearing Luke's accusation while he smugly crossed his arms and smirked.

"No!" your face burned red although the accusation wasn't true. He pointed at your reddened cheeks and it took all your willpower not to smack him in his chest again. (Damn, his chest is hard!)

"I was talking to Silena, she was worried about me leaving camp," you said.

"Oh," Luke responded, suddenly very intrigued by his hard-boiled egg. Paying no mind to the flicker of emotion that crossed Luke's face, you continued.

"Yeah, she was worried and acting really strange for some reason. If this happens again, I might want to bring it up with Chiron," you continued.

"Why, did she say some weird stuff?" Luke curiously asked as he began to rub circles on the small of your back. Soothed, you were tempted to repeat the conversation verbatim to Luke, but you decided otherwise, remembering what Silena had said.

"No, not really. Just told me to be careful of monsters, and all of that stuff," you trailed off, hoping Luke wouldn't notice that you had hesitated to answer his question.

But he had noticed. He had noticed that you suddenly stiffened up and stilled when he rubbed circles on your back. Something that he deliberately did, to catch you if you lied. He noticed that your eyebrows were furrowed when answering him and that you nervously twisted the gold ring your mother, Aphrodite, had given you. He noticed that you chewed on a piece of toast, longer than usual, almost choking on it after he had asked you that question.

He noticed everything about you, the one thing that you had grown to love would soon be the thing that you would quickly loathe. He knew you too well, and he saw and felt everything that you felt.

What you did notice though, was the change in expression on Luke's face. His face hardened for a quick second, and you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Penny for your thoughts," you questioned, sipping your warm hot cocoa.

"I just can't wait to spend the day with you, Princess," Luke said. For a moment, his smile didn't match his words. As if he realized that the image he was projecting to you didn't match the image he curated for you, he quickly brightened his smile. Luke stared at you, hoping you didn't notice his smile. He internally sighed in relief as he realized you were busy chugging the goblet of hot cocoa, too thirsty to even look at him.

"I can't wait to spend the day with you, Luke," you genuinely smiled.

You two quickly ate the rest of your meal in silence, wanting to get the most out of the day. It was only seven in the morning (a bit too early for your taste), but you felt so alive. Looking forward, you two had the perfect view of the ocean. Although Camp Half-Blood was surrounded by protective magic, Mr. D had allowed certain weather events, such as snow, to be allowed through the barrier. This resulted in magical moments where you could see the soft snow settle on the grass of the lawn.

From your view, snow slowly fell and settled near the ocean, creating snow on the beach. The feeling that you get from being hot and cold at the same time is like looking at the snow on the beach. Snow mixing with the sand, it looked like an unreal scene, something that only happened in movies. As you two ate breakfast, the snow started to come down harder, clouding the beach in a white powder.

Strangely, you didn't feel that cold because Luke was by your side.

In a way, you realized that you could describe Luke and your relationship as an analogy to the snow settling on the beach: It was undeniable that you and Luke were falling for each other at the same time, barreling all your love towards each other at an accelerating speed. You two crashed together in fury kisses, passionately worshipping each other every day, but especially every night. Every time you two kissed, it felt like a cataclysmic, unreal, and faded moment where you realized that you both felt the same way for each other in the same moment. It was so unreal that it felt like your little moments together belonged in a museum of emotions that were impossible to experience with someone else. Something that you only saw in the movies or on a farfetched television show. There was a nagging bit in the back of your mind that constantly reminded you that you didn't deserve to be loved. Every day, Luke dispelled that notion, feeding you love with every conversation and kiss.

Just like snow on the beach, you two were extremely different from each other, so far on other ends of the spectrum. You two were weird, but fucking beautiful together, like snow on the beach. Complimenting each other, you almost made a perfect whole.

"You ready to go to New York City, Princess," Luke said, snapping you out of your daydream as you swallowed the last piece of turkey sausage.

"Of course, only with you," you reassured him with a cheeky smile.

In that moment, you two were frozen in time like a photograph. Laughing, you held onto his bicep as you two walked on the sandy beach to reach the barriers of camp. The snow mingled with the sand and you looked down and smiled as if you won a contest. You couldn't help it though, you had won the best prize, the love of Luke. To hide your smile would be dishonest, and you couldn't ever do that.

I was inspired by the lyrics of Snow on the Beach sung by Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey. A lot of the latter half of the story is pulled from Genius.com and their analysis of the lyrics of this song. Hope you all enjoyed part two!

comment to be a part of the taglist for part 3!

xoxo, cznszn 𐙚₊❤︎

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hwan-g · 2 years

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DADDY ISSUES. —BANG CHAN; 🚬

pair. soft dom! chris x f. reader | genre. lovers to friends, roommates, heartbreak, hurt/comfort, smut | warnings. profanity, angst, alcohol abuse, anger issues, mentions of cheating, attempted su!cide, toxic relationship, unprotected sex, filthy talk. | word count. 6.9k

tags. @ughbehavior (@straywrds), @cb97percent, @hyuneater, @lix-ables, @hellishmoons, @hyun-bun, @skz317cb97, @danyxthirstae01, @choigore, @j-0ne25.

a/n: hi lovelies! popping in to say this story is heavy, read the warnings before proceeding. if any of you need to talk, my dm's/inbox are always open. the national su!cide prevention lifeline for the u.s is 1-800-273-TALK. i love you, you're not alone. ♡

synopsis. what can Chris say about you—you’re his girl. he’d do fucking anything for you.

You were driving him insane.

Your cunt, they way you felt around his dick, your nails scratching on his back, the arch of your back—but your fucking voice. His name coming from your mouth, your perfect fucking lips, that tongue that knows how to wrap around him, lick him just right to get him painting your face in hot, sticky white. He’d cum time and time again for you—would bury himself inside your sweet folds every single goddamn day of his life, forever if he could, if you let him.

But you don’t. You let him rail you, fuck the absolute shit out of you, the harder the better, your hand, that fucking hand, fuck him, always guiding his own around that pretty neck, pleading with those devil eyes, daring him, sending him over the edge, making him want to kill you with how much he craves you, how much he wants you, wants to have you again, always, if you let him, only if you fucking did, and he’d show you, you know he would, because no one could fuck you better than him.

And it’s not for lack of trying. ‘Cause that’s the fucking truth, isn’t it—he fucks you; you fuck literally anyone else. Every other goddamn motherfucker out there that gives you even a smidge of attention, promises you words and free drinks, takes you to expensive hotels, reservations booked under false names, room service on the tab, that sort of thing. Chris could never do that, right, not anymore, because you forsook him, you chastised and threw him away when he got too close, yeah?

Even though he was your first, even though that hole of yours belonged to him first— he was the one that found you first, claimed you first, had you screaming for him, daddy, daddy please, right there, oh, please touch me right, there—it’s still clear as day in his mind, how he made you come for him, on his fingers, on his cock, on his tongue, Christ, over and over, his good girl, his baby, so helpless, so needy all the time, for him, for everything he could give you.

But no more of that. You were all grown now, weren’t you, you had no need for him anymore, he’d taught you everything there was, you’d sucked him dry, and moved on to bigger and better things, didn’t you? Now he was an afterthought, a quick fuck when you felt like it, when you were too tired to go out, and he was there, ready and waiting for you, always waiting, always getting the short end of the stick, always the crumbs.

And still, he accepted every time. Because it was you, because at least you were coming back to him, at least you still wanted him, because he could have you, even like this, even on the A.M, even if drunk, in one of your moods, where he doesn’t know if he should hold you down so you could let it all the fuck out, finally, at long last, or just fuck it out of you, take it by force, bury himself in all of your sadness and drown.

You could dance circles around him. You could point a gun to his head, and he’d swear you loved him with all of your tartar fucking heart. You did, love him. You loved him in a way he would never understand, in the same way you loved your father when you saw the suitcase in his hand, door open, leaving, leaving, leaving—

You loved him just enough to keep him around. You loved him like a field burning. But he could never know. The moment love reveals itself, it is no longer a mythical thing, it holds no substance, no magic spell. It shrivels up, and it dies. Chris could never know—he would never know.

When you broke it off, when you gave him the ring back, those same Satan eyes dry, cold, a freezing winter to his scorching sun, middle of July, he proposed your arrangement in a desperate attempt to keep you with him, close to him; so, you wouldn’t walk out on your relationship, whatever would remain of it, leave him entirely. It was a selfish bargain, a man sentencing himself to death by hanging, but there was nothing else—you’d left him with no other choice.

He never expected you to agree. Never expected the look you gave him. A truce between lovers, a friendship that could only be the result of having entered one’s soul, of having seen who they are in intimate ways. Roommates, then, and he helped you move out of your shared bedroom to the guest room, the one your mutual friends usually crashed in after a party, exhausted and drunk. In the same way he’d fall asleep all those nights after you put yourself in a different space, a space away from him, so close but so fucking far away, so he’d never touch you, so he could not whisper to you anymore.

And then came the visits after hours, the sliding under his covers, the ghost of you, only real as far as the bed stretched, only allowed for a short while, enough to get what you wanted, and then gone, just as fast as you’d come. Chris gave himself away to you every fucking time, because he was foolish; because he looked for you everywhere, because he drove himself wild with jealousy when you weren’t home, because he’d wait, and wait, and wait, until the sun rose again, until he’d hang from the couch heavy with sleep, his eyes remaining stubbornly open, staring at the door, staring at his phone, staring at your jacket hanging from the coatrack, wondering if you’re warm enough, if you’re safe, if you’re fucking alive—

Hours and hours of obsessing over you, cursing himself for ever suggesting this; this half death, this swallowing of heart, drinking himself oblivious just so the clock would melt away and shut the fuck up, the ticking of it turning into nothing more than a faint buzz in the background. You were out doing God knows what, probably fucking other men, and what about it, right, what was he supposed to do, he was nothing to you now, no boyfriend, no fiancé, no love of yours, nothing solid he could grab on tight and hold onto—a mere roommate. He could fucking laugh.

He's saved you from yourself, helped you through grief; all music is you, everything he writes, composes, fucking arranges—all is you, filled with you, thoughts of you, your scent, your cunt, the way it clenches around his cock, the way you unravel for him, his angel, his girl, his girl, his his his— but you’re someone else now, aren’t you? And Chris, still here, on standby until you come; one glance from you and he’s back to life like usual, like you hadn’t pressed pause on him, like he’d been working perfectly fine all along.

It was enough to drive him to addiction. And it almost did—booze eased the pain of you, helped him sleep. A known insomniac, someone that has been working in the dark for most of his adult years, someone that needs help from pills to go to bed, otherwise he’d carry on through the haze of days, slowly turning mad, paranoid with deprivation. Oh, he was broken too, long before you, and there was no fixing that. That was to stay with him for the rest of time. In consequence, his brain was rewired, worked different than others’. There was no hope—the sky was a ceiling and it had collapsed on everything.

Complete standstill.

He finds you in the living room, something four in the morning. He’d just finished a track, send it over to the guys for reviewing, and felt his mouth dry as cotton. Chris hadn’t even realized the time, creating being water that sweeps everything else away, concepts and basic needs included. Your knees were hugged close to your body, your head resting on top, slow blinking at the wall.

The him that would rush to your side, inspect you for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could make him see red—Chris held him back. This was not that, not like all those times before, this was backstepping, this was your brain eating at you in plain sight, the only voice louder than your own. He approached carefully, always aware of his position in your life, of what he wasn’t, and wasn’t, and would not be, not for a long time, not until you said so.

“Alright?”

The faintest nod, you’d have to know the habit to make it out. He knew it; he knew it best of all.

“Alright,” you repeated the word back to him, not moving an inch.

Chris waited, as he does so well. He waited for something else, an indication to proceed. Your sadness was consuming the entire room, its shadows curling in the corners. An episode, then, as heavy as the world, and he wondered if that was the reason you were home so early—if some fucker couldn’t handle your vastness, the mess of you, all your pointed pieces, and send you back to the one person that can.

“And the truth?” he presses, but just enough. Enough for you to spill, and he walks towards you despite himself, despite his throat warning him of dehydration, despite his heart running for the hills, screaming of ruins and deterioration.

He’s been through all of it. He tells himself it won’t hurt anymore, not the same, not as much.

He’s wrong.

A sharp inhale, the shaking of shoulders. Sadness always shows like this. “It’s bad, Chris,” you whimper, your voice breaking. “It’s bad again.”

Chris takes a deep breath, only to remind himself that he must keep distance between you. Because if it were up to him, he’d cradle you in his arms so tight pain would slide right off, scare away in the sight of love. If it were up to him, he’d carry you to your bed and make it all okay again, and every time, as many times as it took, with no hesitation, no second thought, nothing but taking your sadness as his own, nothing but bearing every single thing that hurts you, that weighs you down. If it were up to him, but it’s not. You do not want him, and your pain is your own, this you’ve told him.

‘I’ve had pain for so long, I don’t know what I’d be without it.’ So, instead, he watches as you cry silently to yourself, comfortable in his presence, but just enough. Always just enough.

But never fucking enough.

“Go to bed, (Y/N),” he tells you, but what he means to say is ‘Come to bed with me, lay down next to me and I’ll take care of you. I swear I will.’ What he really wants to say is he wants to hide inside your body, wants to swim through your bloodstream, squeeze through your veins and remove all toxins, all illness out of you. And if that sounds a little crazy, forgive him, yeah, he hasn’t slept in twenty-six hours.

You’re shaking the very fucking foundation of him. He cannot bear to witness your tears, cannot physically turn into something that can take it all away, angel, please, please stop crying, will you—you’re killing me, you’re torturing me—

You look so small, so frail in that place of yours. The couch was coming apart at the seams, having seen a little too much for its young age of four. Chris stared at the threads hanging at the bottom of it, to avoid the gun in his mouth. Perhaps he could reach out and touch you, maybe you’d let him, maybe you needed him as much as he needed you tonight, and you’d mercy him, you’d pardon his sentence and set him free.

Wiping at your eyes, mascara smudged in the corners, purples and grays smoked together, strangling, patronizing him—it’s not for you, it’s not for you, I was out with another man, I smell like him, I have his seed inside me, I will leave you one day, it’s not for you—and if it’s not that it’s the fucking dress, short and black and thin, second skin, covering your tits and your stomach and your cunt and not much else. His woman, once and always after that, in sorrow even when he’s let you do what you want, even when he’s sacrificed himself to the Devil so you have free will, even as he chews on glass as he watches you leave, always exiting doors, always away from him, never to, always from, and goddamn him, he’s not a fucking pussy, he’s your man—

You need him. He shut out the entire world he once knew for you, shunned everything, so he knows this— you need him.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you whisper, but your gaze is begging, your eyes are a window, and he’s got 20/20 vision, he reads between the lines, he recognizes.

He knuckles his own, rubbing his face raw. “We’re not doing anything,” an ancient voice. A voice that’s not his own, waiting. Tired.

The lighting is low, but he could make you out blindfolded. It’s late, and yet it’s not, not for him, not for you, not with you, but you lay in different beds, with different men, while he’s alone, whilst the waiting is in process and trust him, he’d rearrange the whole fucking architecture of this building to bring your bedroom closer to his, would build it himself if he had to, so don’t underestimate him, don’t test him, goddamnit, don’t refuse, don’t deny—

Your feet touch the ground, bare and no doubt cold, and he loves you, it rips through him, because where you’re always cold he’s always warm, and in that way useful to you. He remembers a time where it wasn’t bad, where there were no men, where you shared one bed and exchanged body temperatures, giggling like teenagers.

“Call out to me and I’ll come to you,” you disturb the silence between you, and your words cut through him like a knife. More knife than human. Because he’ll do it, he has a thousand names for you, and they all spell out one thing, they all reside in his head and haunt him.

He doesn’t believe you. You’re toying with him, because you’re sad and lonely, and need him. He’ll fall for it anyway because he’s sad, lonely and he needs you. A double-sided coin, but one all the same. You’ll cut him and cut him and cut him. He’ll bleed to death. Cause and effect—one cannot exist without the other.

If he puts his hands together in prayer, forgive him. He’s in love.

“What will you answer to?” He asks, holding his breath, afraid to look, but terrified to look away, and you get up from the torn couch, falling apart at the seams yourself, and this, you, he knows how to mend. If only he says the right thing.

“Anything.” You stand, fists at your sides, shivering, tears never ending, and he could grab you—

He doesn’t think you know what that means.

“Lies. One mistake and you’ll be gone,” he retorts bitterly, and his mouth has never tasted sweetness.

You smile, and you’re an idol at church, staring at him through glass, you’re a million-dollar painting guarded in a museum, people questioning you for hundreds of years. Is she smiling? Is she lying to me? When you already know the answer.

“Take a chance, Chris. This could be the last time.”

He should’ve paid attention to that, should’ve dedicated his entire life to solving the riddle, putting together the clues, gone on the scavenger hunt, but instead he lashes out, cups your face and smashes your lips together. He’s been starved, he’s been left thirsty in a desert to walk around in circles, repenting for his love. He’s had enough.

Mine, are you? A fucking angel, open your legs for me, let me feel my cunt, goddamn you—soaking my fucking fingers, baby girl, come. Come with me now. His hand over yours, walking into Lazarus’ tomb, a raising of the dead. “Tell me what you need,” as his teeth graze your earlobe, as he turns you around, your back against his chest, as his hand is holding your arms in place, a hostage in front of God, so you won’t go anywhere, “Did you hear me?”

“All of it. All of you,” you moan, your head falling back, and he bends you over the bed, your knees hitting wood. He’ll take you like this, because he cannot stand another night of having you where he sleeps, and you don’t stay. Lies, he thinks again. Not all of me—enough of me, bits and pieces of me, he tears the dress from your body in one swift motion, the fabric resisting over your hips. You gasp, pulling against his grip. He grips tighter.

You buck into his hips, and he groans, his lips on your back, on your shoulders, on your neck, everywhere at once, because unlike you, he wants every square inch of you, he wants to destroy you, wants to reach inside the cage of you and eat your heart so that it beats next to his own, nothing between you, and he sounds fucking pathetic, but it doesn’t even matter, you’re under him, at his mercy, and your cunt stretches around his fingers, his palm runs over your sweet cheeks, fingers tracing your lips, coming to rest on your neck, and you moan again, you’re shaking, but for an entirely different reason this time, and Chris wishes he can have you like this always, always always—

“You fucking own me body and soul, baby, that’s it, fuck on my fingers, come on—” you’re so close, so fucking close, but then he takes them away, and he’s entering you in an entirely different way, a better one, and you almost collapse, but your arms grip the covers, steady you on the mattress, and you’re crying out in ecstasy. He knows the exact map to your pussy, all the ways to make you cum for him, and he’s checking all of them off, his mouth is filthy, whispering in your ear, sucking on your neck, his cock drilling into your hole, rearranging your insides—

Listen to how your pussy sounds, fucking Heaven right under me, God baby, will you let me rip you apart, you will, won’t you, you know I’ll take care of you, fuck—despite the roughness of him, you felt comfort in the way he was taking you; like coming home, like opening the door of a place you know upside down. The violence that you unleash on yourself, an unstitching of all your wounds, and scars, the familiar red of your own bleeding, of being alive—Chris felt like that. You couldn’t stop coming back for more, because you knew the lights would be on, the bed would be warm, the blood would run the same.

You were a terrible fucking person, and you deserved none of it, so you bit your tongue, you tasted the iron, and clenched your teeth, letting him violate you in the best way, in the only way he ever will, because Chris was many things to you, but he could never hurt you—it’d only feel like he’d be hurting himself, every time.

When he came undone over you, he pushed through still, searching for your high, kind in his devouring savage in his ways, fingers brushing over your clit, smearing your wetness in between your thighs, driving you wild with his heavy breathing on your sweaty skin—it felt too much, too overwhelming, too hot, so hot, fuck c’mon baby girl, give it to me, I know you can, come around my dick, pretty baby, fuck you’re so goddamn beautiful—you did. Your eyes shut tight, your nails digging into his forearm, you came viciously, your entire body shaking, in a state of shock, rendered speechless, convulsing, yet needing more of him, his weight on you, his panting, his lips at the nape of your neck.

You’ve fucked a lot of men, you’re not proud to admit. All of them have been different, their love, the way they fuck—all different, all the same. They will never compare to this man, your man, one and only, because he knows you most of all, knows you inside out, has shaped you to fit around him like a glove. But it is because of that shame, because of the embarrassment—that you leave.

He watches you do so with apprehension, that dark gaze of his restrained, hurt. But you knew, didn’t you, Bang Chan? This changed nothing, this would always be one way and not the other, not what you want, never what you want. You could love her and love her and love her, until you die, until you burn yourself alive with yearning, until you get dragged into the pits of Hell. It—will—not—change. Because it’s not up to you. So, you watch her collecting seeds, you watch her fill herself up with so many of you, and you think maybe this will be enough now, maybe now she’ll stop, this is enough, right? Enough. This word on his mouth is pure acid, he curses it—but it��s all the consolation he has. That one day it’ll stop, one day you’ll come back, your thirst will be satiated, appeased, and you’ll be—satisfied. Another word that’s hard to voice, even harder to swallow.

“If I say it,” he starts, hands clenched into fists, tears brimming, heart crumpled up and thrown against the wall, a first-degree murder, “if I say it,” he repeats, and it’s wicked, “will you stop? Will you come here?”

You pause by the door, a being with no soul, no redeeming qualities. You will your face to look brave, to look indifferent, but what’s the use—against your own self? He can see right through you, this man.

“If you say it, you’ll never see me again.”

The door closes. He’s alone.

Two weeks later, Chris enters your apartment stumbling, taking off his coat, kicking off his shoes, world spinning. It takes him about two minutes to walk a straight line in the kitchen, but he succeeds, the water he manages to pour himself soothing his burning throat.

The record had been wrapped up, the fat check from his producer/song-writer skills now residing in his bank account, all the whiskey bought in his honor drank until the last drop. What was left now but to go home and sneak into your room, watch you sleep, fantasize about slipping right behind you under the blankets, wrap an arm around your waist, bring you close and smell the sweet shampoo scent of your hair? Such simple pleasures, and yet getting there was the hardest part. Chris wasn’t a creep, or at least didn’t consider himself one, but you’d driven him to the absolute fucking brink of madness. All he needed was your touch, your soft skin against his, your lips kissing back, initiating contact—he couldn’t even have that. Not even that.

He wanted to tell you, he wanted to see your expression as you’d hear it—he almost fucked another woman tonight. Almost, as in he couldn’t even look at her fucking face without thinking of you, couldn’t find his way inside her skirt, inside her pussy, and the truth of the matter was she wasn’t you, point blank, right, so what else was there to say? He got his dick sucked regularly, so many fucking girls begged him to take them home, but how could he when you’d be right there, one fucking wall of separation between you, possibly listening in, possibly covering your mouth, the betrayal pushing you one step further from him?

He couldn’t even risk it, no matter how impossible it sounded. You weren’t even there most nights, you didn’t even care—you’d gone and done it first, if he were to lay the facts down; you’d hurt him first, betrayed him first. But doing it back? Doing it to you? He’d rather cut his own hand. You held him by the balls, he was unable to escape your spell. So, he staggered over to your room, pressed the handle down, softly, quietly, afraid to wake you, if you were even there, he chanted, he prayed, it was so late, so fucking late, you better be in bed, you better be safe and tucked in and at home—you weren’t. Your bed was neatly made, your nightstand lamp off. But your shoes were by the door, a hope lit like a torch on his way to your bedroom now vanquished by the dark, the cold.

Panic settled low on his stomach, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing your number, eyes searching, ears perked for sounds. He moved towards the buzz, the living room, the sad looking couch—your phone was in between the pillows, going off on silent. Chris sobered immediately, warning signs going off in his head, his legs carrying him across the apartment, hands trembling, eyes wide, manic, heart leaping, beating out his chest, afraid, terrified—

You couldn’t have, you wouldn’t have, you’re fine, you’re out, you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine, he opens the bathroom door, looks left, looks right—you did.

“(Y/N)!”

There’s no one in his body, he’s floating, he reaches you, he falls on his knees, his arms sink into water, sleeves drenched, he’s dead, he’s dead, there’s nothing in him, he pulls your body up, he screams, he yells, he’s shaking you, you’re cold, you’re freezing, your eyes are closed, why are your eyes closed, he scrambles, he’s dead he’s fucking dead his heart is not responding—the water splashes on the floor, the water is everywhere, he’s drowning in it, he presses you against his chest, his lips are on your temple, his hands try to create friction, he rubs he rubs he rubs, he doesn’t know where to look, what to do, he’s not alive, what does he do what does he do—

“What the fuck, what the fuck, baby, please wake up, please wake up, please wake up,” he thinks he’s crying, he thinks he has to call an ambulance, he thinks there’s not much time, your pulse is weak, but it’s there, he’ll die, he’ll die with you, please please please please, “you can’t fucking leave me, you can’t fucking leave, angel why, why—”

Three numbers, he calls, he puts it on speaker, he’s shoving his fingers down your throat leaning you forward, how long have you been in there, how long like this, what if this doesn’t work, please, fuck, please, baby, baby, my—mine, my girl is not breathing, please hurry, please hurry, in water, I found her, she’s not responding, YES, SHE MIGHT’VE, FUCK, hurry hurry, what do I do!

Chris desperately tries to get you to throw up, checking your face, checking your pulse, ridding you of the clothes clinging on your skin, forcing himself not to think this was on purpose, the one time he’s not home, the one time he goes out. He doesn’t remember ‘this could be the last time’, he doesn’t remember the pills on your nightstand, he doesn’t, his mind is not cooperating, he’s not there, the woman is telling him to try CPR, but he doesn’t know how to do that, he’s scared to let you go, what if he hurts you, what if he breaks you, what if you die because of him, oh God, fuck, he’s crying, he’s hyperventilating, he’s dead, he’s dead—

You choke, water coming out your mouth, your shoulders moving, your body kickstarting, and he removes his hands from your chest, he pulls you to him, he rocks you back and forth, she’s back, she’s back, but she’s weak, as you gargle and heave on him, gasping for air, gripping on his shirt, meeting his eyes—you’re back, you’re back, no other thought than this, you didn’t leave, you didn’t leave him, but you’re pale, so pale, and you’re losing consciousness again, and the ambulance needs to hurry the fuck up, because this is a different fight now, a scarier one.

“Baby, what did you do, what did you do…”

“Keep her awake, sir!”

He lightly slaps your cheek, his fingers never moving from the pulse on your neck, and he talks to you, he talks to you about the first day he met you, and your eyes are fighting to stay open, you’re here but you’re not, you hear him but you don’t, and you smile but it’s a phantom thing, barely there, drugged, not there, not there—you walked up to Seungmin to get his phone number, and he should’ve known then, you’d never truly belong to him, because he saw you first, but he didn’t have you until later, he wanted you from that fucking moment, but he didn’t say anything, he didn’t intervene until later, until he talked to his friend, until he went on that first date instead of him, and how that came to change his entire fucking life forever.

Because you’ve been in it since, because he can’t imagine anything without you there, there’s fucking nothing, a black void, a hole to bury himself in, and that’s it, without you? Without you? His girl? Nothing. You need to stay alive, you owe him at least that, if he can’t have you, he won’t keep you back, not anymore, he promises, he swears, but please, please, for the love of fucking God, stay alive.

The paramedics come five minutes after he pulls you off the tub, and they take you away in the towels he’s wrapped you in, checking for responses, talking amongst themselves. He follows lost, in a haze, his drunk mind slowing him down—he wants to call your mom, but you haven’t talked to her in two years, and fuck if he knows where your father is. He left you, you’ve told him, when you were little, and ever since then you’ve treated the men in your life as passengers on a train, expecting them to walk out whenever their stop comes up, never thinking for one second that anyone could want to stay on forever, until the train seizes to work, until the tracks rust away, and there’s no more need for transportation.

You’ve never for one second thought maybe you don’t need to be train—that you don’t need to always arrive and depart. That you could stay, and that someone would stay with you.

You don’t wake up for three days.

You’re driving him insane. He still comes.

He sits next to you for hours, staring at your serene face, the face he’s seen change in fifty different ways, and he remembers how it felt to be the recipient of your smile, how your mouth stretched and curved, how your eyes creased. Sometimes you’d move your fingers, others your eyelashes would flatter, or your leg would jerk. He’d call the nurse immediately, point it out, get disappointed, fall back on the chair.

‘Normal reflexes,’ they called them. He thinks he hasn’t slept in more than thirty hours; he thinks your face is ingrained in his memory, yet he studies it nevertheless, endlessly, day to night, night to day, the machine next to you beeping, the IV on your arm dripping—he thinks he has reflexes too, but they all respond to you. If there’s no you, then he might as well stick that needle inside him, lay next to you, sleep eternally.

If there’s no you, what’s the point?

Seungmin visits, Jisung does too, they both bring flowers. On the third day your mom shows up much to his surprise—there was no emotion behind her eyes, nothing to indicate the girl on the bed was in fact her daughter, and Chris had to get the fuck away, step out before he caused a fucking scene, before he did something he’d regret.

There was no one for you—all those ‘friends’ you partied with on the regular, all those fuckers you slept with—no one came, no one called, no one gave a damn. You stretched yourself thin for people who most likely didn’t even remember your fucking name, you gave yourself away, time and time again, told him to go to Hell, you’d do whatever you wanted, you had others, you weren’t alone—Chris based himself off those words entirely. Knowing the truth, realizing the loneliness you’d been enduring all these months—he wanted to crack his head open, physically pick you out of his brain.

Only because you wanted to be away from him. All of this because he insisted.

How to forgive himself now? One, for being too late. Two, for not seeing. Where does one put his sins? There was no excuse for him; he saw you every day, he prided himself for knowing you best of all. What the fuck did he know, huh?

He left. Told the receptionist to call him if you woke up—him, not your mom, not anybody else, and he fucked off to go drink himself oblivious. The tiredness he felt couldn’t be described in human words. It had built a home inside his very bones, rested heavily, stubbornly on top, pressing down, down down—a mere mortal, with insignificant pains, and the need for sleep. Chris had no need for sleep, no need for mortal prerequisites.

He needed you. That was all.

You go home, eventually.

He picks you up, a thousand words in his mind, none on the tip of his tongue. He drives in silence, and you stare ahead. You’re different, there’s a cloud twice the size it was now. You have to go to therapy, you have to take other pills now, long names on them, day and night. You have to ask for help when you need it. Chris was pulled to the side as well—he had put himself down as your fiancé, had asked to know everything about you. So, they tell him.

You might need to go away for a bit, but for now you’d go back with him. Call this specific number if something happens. Your life redefined by this one choice. It was stupid. You didn’t even want to die, not particularly, you just wanted the pain to go away—you fell asleep in the wrong place. It didn’t even matter, anyway. Doctors don’t listen, not really. Chris does. You know he does, you know he’s a good listener, you’re positive he will understand—because he loves you.

And you love him, too. Just enough. A field burning. Always, and forever.

But he can’t even look at you, and you think you might’ve fucked something up with him. In him. So, you stare ahead, and you wait until you’re home. You didn’t even want to die; you say this over and over to yourself. You didn’t even want him to see you like that. Now he’ll treat you differently, he’ll ponder over everything you say, he’ll look for hidden meanings. Your mother was the same way, and you left her.

You absolutely do not want to leave Chris; you know this now.

Home is tidy. He might be a fucking mess, might’ve lost the entire goddamn plot over your absence, ruined his liver, and his brain nerves, but he’s not about to reveal that to you. Any of that. He keeps quiet, as you put the things he’d brought you away in your room, untouched, still as it was that night, says nothing as you undress and slip into pajama shorts and a T-shirt. You figure you’ll probably have to break the ice first, as he seems terrified to do so.

And with good reason. You had him balancing on very thin thread—what did you expect?

You sit down on your bed. He stands by the door, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe. He looks exhausted, drained. He looks like he wants to reach out, see for himself if you’re really here, and you can see the fight inside him rage on and onwards. How do you fix this? Where do you start?

“I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression pained. Hearing those words…that’s not what he wants to hear. You’ve nothing to be sorry about. It was all him—he had no idea what you were going through, he’s the one being selfish, wanting you all to himself, forcing you to do things that were clearly against your will. You had nothing to be sorry about, nothing at all.

Except breaking his heart. Over, and over, and over. The one thing.

“You told me not to say it,” he speaks, his voice collected. “That night…that I’d never see you again. But it’s all that matters, (Y/N), isn’t it?”

You grab onto the covers underneath you. He’s right. He’s right, but you’ve been ignoring it for so long, you’ve been refusing to acknowledge, you’ve been putting him off, thinking if I do this a little longer, if I take it a little further…maybe he’d leave first. Maybe I won’t have to do the leaving this time, please don’t let me do it this time, I don’t think I’ll bear it.

But he cannot do this for you. The one thing.

“Do you love me?” he asks, and you shake all over.

Love—it was a house. A house with him in it, holding the ceiling in place, the light always on, the bed warm. Love was a place you never wanted to leave behind. A place you’d die in. Did you love him—yes. You never stopped. But was it enough? Say he knew this, the simple truth, you loved him all along, you loved him even through all the pain you caused him—then why? Why didn’t you just stay with him? It’s the question after that you’re most afraid of.

Your face collapses. “Yes.”

He pushes off the frame, hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Yes?” he breaths, chuckles incredulously. “Yes, she says, then drowns herself in the bathtub. Explain your love to me, angel. I’m fucking clueless.”

You flinch. At his words, at his tone. He’s not meaning to hurt you, not really. His frustration, his concern, it’s all written across his face. He could never lie, not to you. Yet, being confronted by it…it digs through you just the same.

“That was an accident,” you didn’t know where to start, what to say. You thought it’d be easier. It’s not. “You don’t have to forgive me, Chris. Please don’t, I don’t deserve it. But the answer to your question—it’s always going to be yes.”

He bended at the knees, hands coming to rest in front of him, as he stared at you. Never forgetting to put distance between you, even now. If you could feel anything, you’re pretty sure you’d feel your heart trying to break free from its cage. You wish you could, if just for a moment, so as not to feel like such a liar speaking such truths.

“I’m not going to ask why,” he croaked, his head dropping, embarrassed at the emotion spilling out of him. “Though God knows I want to. I almost fucking lost you, and it might not mean anything to you, but it means everything to me. If you’d died—that’d be the end of me, (Y/N), do you understand what that’s like?”

You couldn’t help your silence as you watched him break down and cry. You thought if you didn’t move then, you’d lose him and that was ten times worse. It’d be a long while since your life had any meaning for you, but Chris shouldn’t have to bury himself in the same pit as you. He used to smile so brightly once, was always the life of party, someone you counted on all too much, because he was just that dependable.

You think you need to become a little like him. Have more courage.

All it takes is three steps. Then, you’re on your knees in front of him, your arm resting on his back, as you try to find his eyes. His hand tries to wipe the tears away before you catch them, but you interject with your own, your fingers brushing over his cheek. You want to taste them, these tears, understand through them, without the misunderstanding of words, without ever speaking—you wish to know him before he even opens his mouth. As he is with you. You need to learn more about love, about what it means, and how it feels, really, and truly.

“I never stopped loving you, baby,” he whispers, the strain of him vibrating. “Not once. You could shoot a bullet through my chest, and I’d take it, I’d die a happy man. I’m as messed up as you are.”

He still won’t look at you. You pray one day he’ll be able to express himself without feeling ashamed. You hope one day your throat won’t choke up when around him. Maybe it wasn’t even about who’d leave first. You had never tried just being—with him. The one thing.

“Do the program,” he encourages, calming down. “Do the program, and when you get out, I’ll be here,” finally the brown meets you. You search it, want to dive in it, get lost in it. One last time. “I’ll always be here.”

When he takes you in his arms, then, you know he will. There’s no intention behind it—just love. Only love.

2K notes · View notes

frostironfudge · 9 months

Text

Hide From Me - Steve Rogers

Summary: You deal with the leaving of Steve in your own way, what happens when he finds you and states he wants you back? (Also I was inspired by Where Have You Been by Rihanna the lyrics are quoted)

Pairings: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, drinking, di/rty dancing, di/rty talk, sm/ut, ora/l fem rec, d/s undertones, ex/hi/bitionism if you squint, steve rogers is jealous, you are responsible for the media you consume

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist || AO3

A.N: i do not consent to my work being copied, translated, reposted on other platforms, or put into AI. My accounts are on tumblr and AO3 only.

Knocking back drinks is easy. The burn is welcome. Flashing lights hide your seat of choice.

See everyone but you must not be seen.

The bitter taste upon your tongue seldom prevents the bittersweet memory. Your tongue clicks as the last shot glass is empty as well. Pushing away from your hideaway you go to the crowd upon the dance floor.

Become one with the crowd but you must stand out.

The speakers thump, your heart reverberates to the beat of the song. Head thrown back in a bitter drowned laugh at the lyrics. Reminding you of an aimless search.

Hands grip your hips, you allow yourself to be pulled into the embrace. The man moves his hips, your short skirt doing its job.

The two of you move. Your hands guide him to your waist, you turn wrapping your arms around him. Smiling shyly at him. Little does he know what you are up to.

Replace easily but never forget.

The man trails his hands up your back. Hmm, maybe you could have your fun. The wandering hands freeze. You huff, pushing away from him. The crowd wanes in the slightest. You find another partner.

Your hips meet with this new partner, your eyes scan the surroundings.

How fitting the line of the song.

‘Are you hiding from me, yeah?

Somewhere in the crowd’

The light bounces off of his features, brows knit, scowling. Angry, grumpy and oh so livid at the forgettable hands that are too close to cupping what is absolutely belonging to him.

Rather was his, abandoning you on the run. Leaving stale crumbs to follow. You grab the wandering hands leading them to the back. Where bodies seek pleasure.

Where the heart eats the afterthoughts, and falls into a bitter ruin.

‘Someone who can please me,

Love me all night long’

The stranger pushes you against the wall, lips on your neck, parting your legs with his knee. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, drawing him closer. The stranger speaks with lust, and decrees promises of euphoria.

You blink up at him, then smirk. Your hands wander below. He groans as you palm him. Then he stumbles backward. Your vision is blocked by broad shoulders that one did carry your given marks proudly.

The song reaches its chorus. Steve turns to you, blue eyes carry an anger. You only raise your brow at him. He follows you out of the back exit. You don’t run. He tilts his head, you did run from him the previous times.

Why not today?

The song still faintly carries out of the club. You turn towards him. Arms crossed, demeanour demanding an explanation.

“You are not running away from me.” Steve says it as though a statement, the subtle shock hidden well enough.

Make them tell you everything, give them nothing.

“You seemed as if you wanted to have a chat.” You lean against the wall.

“We no longer have to be on the run. Things have come up.” He regards you, trying to get a read. Your expression is neutral.

“So what? You’re treasure hunting your abandoned cadets?” You sneer.

“Do not be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like as if I’m to blame when–,”

“Steve, fuck you.” You spit out, “I do not wish to return anywhere with you. You left lets keep it that fucking way.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” You watch the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Any warm bed.” You take a sick pleasure in the way his calm demeanour cracks. Flaring nostrils, tightening fist, clenched jaw.

“You’re coming to my place.” The authoritative tone makes itself known.

“Sorry Captain, I no longer work for or with you.” You turn back, your shoulder pushing against his arm as you go back into the club.

Steve closes his eyes, breathing in and then out. He groans low as your perfume lingers around him. He had to take you back. Whatever he may have to do to lure you. Following in your footsteps.

Finding you on the dance floor is easy only because you make it. He had decided to leave but then you had to dance with that lowlife. Then the next one, as if you knew he was here.

‘Looking for you babe,

Looking for you babe,

Searching for you babe’

Steve growls spotting you, lips locked on with the stranger from before. His movements are sluggish but they still touch what belongs to Steve himself. The man is pulled away by a friend as Steve makes his way to you.

You are pulled to him, his warmth seeping into your skin through the material of your sheer top yet you shiver. Steve hums pleased, lips nipping at your earlobe. Your hands tighten upon his wanting to push him away.

Both of your hands are grabbed by one of his, you try to move but Steve has other plans. His large palm moves down the back of your right thigh then front. Moving below your skirt. He cups you, the tightening of your inner thighs just keeps his touch closer.

He begins to grind his palm to the beat of the music, speed growing faster as the tempo picks up. Steve watches as your body responds to him. Unravelling itself to the man who ruined it and put it back together with each shattering orgasm.

Your breath comes out in short pants, the coil tightening in your belly. Your panties are ruined by your arousal aiding Steve in his merciless ministrations. Your head rests against his chest. You feel his hand on your chest but your hands don’t move. Lest he stops.

Your moan reverberates against his palm. He tugs on your earlobe yet again as praise. Two fingers now inside you. You know you won’t be able to take it any longer.

‘You can have me all you want

Anyway,’

You cum with a cry of his name, his hearing picks it up even if the hazed crowd around you cannot hear the sweet melody.

You’re pressed down into the mattress, with his belt around your hands tied to the headboard. Steve’s lips are seizing yours—wet, warm, and consuming you. Clothes are long discarded along the small hallway of the flat.

Large palms cup your breasts, your nipples teased, tugged upon with fingers and teeth. When he kisses over your sternum his beard leaves a delicious burn across your body. You cry out his name as he blows over your folds. Lips latching on your clit.

Steve moans, finally his hunger would be sated. Your taste coats his tongue and lips. He can feel his pussy demanding for more, demanding to be rewarded for all these months of useless fucks.

“Steve!” You cry out when he bites down on your folds, tugging them before soothing them with his tongue.

“You need to be reminded who this pussy belongs to.” He nips on your clit, you cry out as the sensitivity begins to take over. He can tell the signs, your hands released.

His cock coated in your arousal. He hisses as your nails dig in, awaking his primal urge to want to be marked by you over and over.

Steve thrusts into you, groaning as you take him so well. All of him, every inch.

“Do you know how beautiful you look? Taking every inch of my cock so well.” He praises, “Look at you, marking me up.”

Your eyes follow the trail of red welts as you leave scratches upon him. Drawing him in and closer for more, more of him.

He angles his hips and you feel him hit the spot that has you arching up into him. Your orgasm barrels into you. Crying out his name. Steve kisses you as your ecstasy triggers his own. You feel him fill you up, your whimpers and mewls met with his soft kisses.

When he pulls away you whine, needing him close. He returns soon with a warm towel and more kisses to give you.

Somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, he makes yet another promise,

“I will make it up to you, sweetheart. I do regret leaving. I’m so very sorry. Even if it takes me years to earn your forgiveness I will remain on my knees.”

The morning light wakes Steve, the sheets are warm and still carry your scent. He smiles burrowing closer, his arm reaching out to draw you to him. He finds emptiness. Bolting upright he searches the room.

He walks through the small apartment. Each corner is empty.

Your clothes are still strewn across his floor but his shirt is gone. Tongue running over his teeth he walks up to the small paper taped to his bathroom mirror. Words he wrote months ago stare back at him.

‘Don’t try to find me, I do not want to be found.’

At the back of the note there is more, but in your handwriting;

‘My Love,

Your search for me will be futile just as mine for you was.

Thanks for the warm bed.’

He traces the lipstick print you’ve left as the sign off with his index finger.

-x-x-x-x-

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #nomad steve smut #captain america x female reader #nomad steve x reader #steve rogers angst #frostironfudge #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #dom steve #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader #nomad steve rogers x reader

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lovebugism · 8 months

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Okay, hear me out. The reader has a birthday in the summer and boyfriend!Steve is throwing her a little surprise bd party somewhere outside of Hawkins, along with Eddie, Robin and the kids 🥹🥰

thanks for your request!! — the one where steve harrington and the rest of the gang try hopelessly to celebrate the grump of the group (grumpy!reader, established relationship, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

A heart-shaped cake sits on top of a rotting park bench.

It’s obviously homemade, slathered with sage green icing that’s visibly uneven — bare in some places and thicker in others. Your name is written on the very center in a darker shade of juniper. At least, you’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be. The letters are sloppy and nearly illegible. It could say anything really, and you’d have no way of knowing.

Several smaller hearts are dotted around the top and the sides, looking more like gloopy circles and poorly drawn birds. You figure they were added as an afterthought, perhaps to distract from the various dents around the edges of the cake.

Despite all that — or maybe because of it — your heart swells with an inhuman sort of warmth.

You didn’t think people cared enough about you to bake a cake for you. Or to throw a surprise party for you. Honestly, you didn’t think anyone besides Steve even knew it was your birthday. The thought makes your chest feel tight, a healthy mixture of mirth and panic.

Several faces smile expectantly at you. You blink owlishly back at them. The twittering sounds of nature fill the anticipatory silence.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a half-sincere monotone, fidgeting awkwardly on the wooden bench seat. “I just… I never know how to respond when a group of people sing Happy Birthday to me.”

Steve smiles and smoothes a palm up and down your spine. His honey eyes flit between your profile and the burning striped candles on top of the cake. “I think most people usually blow out the candles at this point, babe.”

“Yeah,” Robin concurs from across the bench, sitting squarely on the edge to fit beside Dustin and Eddie. Her blue eyes widen as her maroon-tinted mouth quirks slightly upward. “If they burn too low, they’ll set the cake on fire.”

Eddie beams at her words. His chocolate eyes dart between Robin, the cake, and you. “Wait… That actually sounds kinda cool,” he lilts with a soft chuckle.

“No! Not cool!” Dustin argues in response. His bushy brows pinch together in disdain and his nose scrunches at the thought. “We worked hard on this cake, okay? So let’s maybe not ruin it—”

“I thought it was already ruined?” you blurt before you mean to.

The curly-haired boy snaps his attention from Eddie to you, equally as confused as you seem to be. “What?”

You shrug with a flat face. “I don’t know… I thought you guys, like, dropped it on the way over here or something.”

You’re too kind to be mean, too aloof to realize how insensitive you sound.

You thought it might’ve been the perfect explanation for why the cake looked so… messy. Dustin was a perfectionist to boot, and Max commanded the boys like it was her job to do it. With their forces combined, you figure they could make just about anything five-star bakery-worthy.

This heart-shaped cake in front of you isn’t perfect. It looks more like what would happen to a sheet of paper if you gave toddlers a bunch of finger paint. Because they weren’t trying to make it flawless at all. They were making something sweet for you and having fun together while doing it.

You can imagine the kids laughing as they flick flour at one another and smear green icing on each other’s cheeks. Your chest warms all over again. Your heart glows with a happiness you often keep hidden.

“Considering it’s your birthday, I am actively choosing not to take offense to that statement,” Dustin responds after a beat of silence, a sincere smile on his boyish features.

“We made it ourselves, actually,” Lucas tells you with his own grin. He sits adjacent to the former boy, shoulder-to-shoulder with Max. Despite the many inches of space on either side of them, his bare arm brushes against her freckled one.

“That makes sense,” you mutter to yourself.

Steve exhales a laugh from beside you. His broad hand squeezes gently at your shoulder. “Blow out the candles, babe. Before you actually do set the cake on fire.”

Your chest inflates with an inhale that you blow out through your mouth. The flickering orange flames shift sideways for a moment before turning into wisps of gray smoke.

The group around you starts to applaud. Some of them cheer quietly for you. It makes your brows furrow with distant contempt. You shrink into yourself, not made to be easily celebrated.

Steve smacks a kiss to your cheek, then. His plush, pink lips smush against your skin and pull into a beam a second later. His eyes sparkle with the sunshine expression when you turn to look at him.

His arm curls more intently around you to hold you closer. Even though you make no move to hold him back, you melt into him just the same. His smile widens when he feels you grow heavier against him — much less tense than you usually are.

“What’d you wish for?” he wonders with his brows raised.

In a deadpan, you answer. “That goes against the philosophy of wishes, Harrington.”

“Right,” he concurs in a scoff. You feel his chest rumble with breathy laughter. It makes you lean further into him before you realize you’re doing it.

Steve notices, though — rather quickly, because physical affection never did come easily to you. His already wide smile grows somehow fuller. His nose smushes into your hair when he pressed a kiss to your temple.

—————

The cake quickly disappears as everyone cuts themselves a slice and downs it with vigor. It’s less about being dreadfully hungry and more about there being something innately delicious about homemade pastries.

Dustin tells you he calculated the recipe himself — comparing the backs of several cake mix boxes and what he knew you liked best. That, along with Max’s strangely distinct cheffing ability, created the perfect cake.

It was just dense enough, just sweet enough, just soft enough.

Despite its mess, it was undeniably made with love.

When Steve dismisses himself to get the cooler of drinks he left in his car, you take your slice of cake with you. You hold the festive plate in one hand and a plastic fork in another. Blanketed by shade at the side of the vacant road, you confess with green icing on the corner of your mouth — “Can we go home now?”

Steve huffs as he drops the heavy cooler on the grassy trail. He rises with a furrow to his brows.

“What? We just got here,” he answers with a soft chuckle, reaching his arm out for you. His knuckles brush gently at your chin as his thumb swipes over the corner of your mouth.

The action is too quick for you to dodge. Your features scrunch in disgust when he licks the rouge icing from the pad of his finger.

“We haven’t even finished eating yet.”

“But it’s so hot,” you gripe, face twisted in a distant pout. “And there’s, like, a million things I’d rather be doing.”

“Well, that’s rude,” the boy jokes with his head tilted to his shoulder.

“Everyone just, like… keeps talking to me. And looking at me. I don’t like it— it’s weird.”

Steve smiles, pink and lopsided. “God forbid someone pays a little attention to you every now and then, huh?”

“You do it enough,” you grouse like you’re not grateful for how much he loves you. Your face is fixed in a deadpan to conceal the adoration you have for the boy in front of you. Your eyes twinkle with all of it, anyway. “I don’t need anybody else to give me attention.”

Steve’s chest swells — with pride, perhaps, or maybe with how much he loves you. A healthy mixture of both, maybe.

“Damn right, you don’t,” he singsongs lowly before leaning down to kiss you. His soft lips press against your scowl. He feels like the white puffy clouds above you and tastes like the blue sky surrounding them.

You don’t want to lean into them, still a bit pouty in your way.

You regret not kissing him harder the second he pulls away from you.

He picks up the cooler and flashes you a soft, sympathetic grin. “C’mon, babe. Just a little while longer, okay? And then I’ll take you home. I promise.”

He’s about to walk away from you, turning on the heel of his dirty sneaker and expecting you to follow him.

You don’t, though. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in one place, calling out for him before he can get too far. “Wait!” you blurt, still quiet in your plea.

Steve stills. He turns back to you, his brows raised expectantly. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence passes. You shift your weight on your feet and hold yourself tighter, letting the sounds of chirping birds and rolling breezes fill your quiet until you can find the words — the courage to say them, more like.

“That wasn’t my wish,” you confess gently.

You don’t say anything more than that, despite how vague it sounds. You expect him to understand you without having to plead for him outright. He usually does, though sometimes he loves to hear you beg.

Now, he’s just purely confused.

“What do you mean?” he presses, not teasing you, just trying to understand you better.

“When I blew out the candles,” you explain, monotoned and still slightly pouting. “I wished that… you’d kiss me.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

Actually, you wished that all of this would be over a lot quicker than how dreadfully slow it was going.

You loved your friends, you really did, but you were not the same extroverted being who loved surprises that your boyfriend was. You’d much rather pretend you weren’t another year older and spend the day in bed, wrapped like a present in Steve’s arms.

And you don’t mean to lie about all that, but you don’t know how else to ask for another kiss.

You’re still learning how to be more openly affectionate with him — how to let Steve be more affectionate with you. He’s learning how to give you more space just the same. He can be too suffocating at times, he’s found, and his relationships have wilted like a dying flower accordingly.

You’re both looking for that sweet spot, the exact middle between too clingy and too distant. You’ve found that in each other in a lot of ways. The two of you bring a bit of both that balances you out perfectly.

Your words make Steve melt.

He exhales a sharp laugh through his nose, chest swelling with so much love that it hurts him. His nose scrunches as he walks the short distance back to you. “Well, what kinda douchebag would I be if I didn’t let my girl’s wish come true on her birthday, huh?”

He drops the cooler at his feet again, and it crunches beneath the green grass. Melted ice and canned soda swish audibly from within it as he takes you in his arms. In the cool shade, his wide palms smooth around your hips to warm you like the summer sun.

You keep your arms crossed over you like you didn’t just beg him to be this close, still holding your plate in one hand.

“A huge one,” you answer, voice as flat as your face as you blink up at him. “You already are, actually.”

“Says the girl asking me to kiss her,” Steve jokes with a crooked grin.

Though your own smile threatens to quirk the edges of your lips, you fight to keep it hidden. “I take it back,” you quip at his teasing.

You’re lying, but he already knows that.

“No, you don’t,” he lilts with the shake of his head. He beams at you, perhaps too fondly than you deserve, and leans down once more to give you exactly what you wanted.

His pink lips lock with yours in a mixture of vivid hues. He tastes like sweet cake and sweeter soda. The rough pad of his tongue licks against your mouth to get a taste of you, too. It’s as soft and sweet as you’re still learning how to be.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabbles #bug's summer fic fest!

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