#AND HE SNUCK INTO HER SHOWER???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forhappysake · 3 months

Text

We're Okay

A/N - Guys idk where this came from. I guess I'm just feeling emotional and inspired.

Content - After JJ admits her decade-long love for Spencer, you and your boyfriend have to have a conversation to calm both of your doubts and fears.

Warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, season 14 spoilers, anxiety, mentions of typical BAU-level crime stuff, fluff at the end

You walked in the door slowly, cautionary even; afraid the smallest noise would bring reality crashing down on you. The car ride home had been completely silent, as neither of you bothered to turn on the radio. Spencer shuffled in behind you, the click of the lock making you wince as you did your best to avoid his gaze. You stripped off your coat, throwing it over the couch before walking straight into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you.

As you started the shower and stripped off your clothes, the evening’s events rushed back into your mind. Being involved in a hostage situation with an unstable unsub was one thing. JJ being held at gunpoint was worse. However, as if all that wasn’t enough, JJ admitting her decade-long hidden love for Spencer was the final nail in the coffin. As you climbed into the shower, you did your best to let the water wash away the thoughts running through your head.

Unfortunately, your attempt was unsuccessful. As you dried off and wrapped yourself in a towel, your mind raced. You’d been dating Spencer for nearly a year and a half. The two of you had just recently moved in together. Having known him and JJ for at least half a decade, you knew they were close, but you never would have guessed this was coming. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way she did. If so, what did this mean for your relationship?

After stalling in the bathroom for so long that goosebumps dotted your freshly dried body, you mustered up the courage to slip out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that you shared with Spencer. As you walked across the hallway, you could see his silhouette sitting on the living room couch, head bent forward. You couldn’t tell if he was reading or in deep thought, but you decided that either option was better than the alternative: trying to have a conversation.

You snuck into the bedroom, gently turning on the bedroom light and letting your eyes adjust to the warm glow of your room. You meandered to the closet, pulling out a simple t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. Slipping into your pajamas and stealing a glance at yourself in the vanity mirror, you noticed one of the many images covering the tabletop.

A framed photograph from less than a year ago of JJ, Will, Spencer, and yourself with the boys on a weekend hiking trip. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest and wondered if Will had any idea what was going on in JJ’s head. You shook the thought away, reminding yourself that you had bigger problems of your own to deal with. You turned back to the bed, sliding under the covers and turning off the light. Despite your distress, you were exhausted and you found yourself losing track of time and drifting off to sleep in mere minutes.

* * *

You awoke to the sound of the bedroom door latching shut. You rolled over, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to sneak a peak at your bedside alarm clock. You’d already been asleep for three hours and Spencer was just now coming to bed. It was well after midnight, and you knew that meant he had been up thinking about something. You figured it would be best not to push the subject after everything that had happened.

With your eyes shut, you waited to feel the familiar sensation of Spencer climbing into bed. Instead, you felt his weight at the foot of the bed, as if he had perched himself on the end. You tried not to think much of this and did your best to fake sleep. However, it soon became apparent that Spencer was on to you.

“I know you’re awake,” he said gently. His voice was gruff from the hours he’d spent in silence. Spencer waited before speaking again, “I think we should talk about what happened.”

There it is, you thought. Your stomach sank as your eyes fluttered open. You rolled over to face him, leaning up on your arms. It was then you noticed that he was still in his suit. His unkempt hair fell over his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the disheveled man in front of you. “Alright,” you relented, still refusing to meet his eyes, “what do you want to talk about?”

Spencer rolled his neck, tension evident in his movements. “I want to know how you feel about what was said earlier,” he said. For the first time in hours, you met his eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. You found no signs of dishonesty, so you fell back on the bed, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know, Spencer,” you groaned. “I definitely was surprised. I definitely wasn’t thrilled.” Spencer nodded, moving some hair away from his eyes as you spoke. “But,” you started again, “it’s not like we can go back and change it now.”

He reached an arm out, putting a hand over the covers on top of your knee. “I know,” he whispered, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You scoffed a bit at his sincerity and his innocence, meeting his eyes once more. “And how do you feel about it?” you asked.

Spencer bit his lip in thought. You could tell you had caught him off guard with the question, and he seemed to be calculating his response. “Can I be honest with you?” he said.

You raised your eyebrows, the nervous feeling in your stomach intensifying. Is this where he tells you he feels the same way and leaves for good? You pushed your thoughts to the side. “Always,” you whispered.

He sighed, laying back on the bed so he was next to you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you wanted nothing more than to curl into his warmth. You knew this wasn’t the time, so you held yourself back and held your breath, awaiting his response.

“First, I was confused,” Spencer explained, eyes locked on the ceiling. “I haven’t thought about JJ like that in over ten years. Frankly, I never knew she thought of me that way, so I was caught off-guard.”

So he did have a crush on her at one time, you thought. You were ready to close your eyes in defeat, to slip off the bed and out of the apartment and never come back when he cleared his throat.

“But then,” he started once more, “I had a quick epiphany of all the moments she’d gone out of her way for me, and I could understand where she was coming from.” You turned to look at him, watching his eyes scan the ceiling as he tried to come up with his next statements.

“And?” you asked, prompting him to continue.

“And then,” he continued your previous statement, “I was terribly appalled.”

Your head, which had turned to the ceiling, snapped back in his direction. You felt your eyebrows raise and your jaw drop open a bit in surprise. “Appalled?” you asked, confusion evident in your expression.

“Appalled,” Spencer echoed, sitting up on the edge of the bed once more and looking back at you.

“Why?” you asked.

Spencer shook his head, looking around the room. “I’ve been thinking about that for the last couple hours, and I’ve come up with a lot of reasons,” he mused. “I know she was in a tight place, but Will deserves better than that. The boys deserve better than that. But aside from them,” he leaned over on the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you must have thought. I was so afraid of your reaction and of losing you.”

Despite your evident emotional state as tears pooled in your eyes, you tried to play it off. “Spencer, this isn’t about me,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he said, lying next to you, “it is.” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, pulling some curls out of his eyes. “Everyone knows how much I love you. I know how scary something like this can be. But you have to know that I have no idea where this came from and that anything JJ and I had died, on my end, long before I ever met you.”

You glanced over at him, the sincerity in his voice had moved you to believe him. For a moment, you forgot about JJ and Will, the boys, and the implications of her words. You offered his fingers a small squeeze. “So we’re okay?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“More than,” Spencer whispered.

He rolled on his side to face you and you mirrored his actions. He wrapped his arms tight around your body, the textured material of his suit jacket pressed against your cheek. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead and you found yourself falling back into sleep. After several minutes passed, you felt Spencer’s voice rumble through his chest for a final time before he succumbed to sleep: “Ever since I met you,” he mumbled, smoothing some stray hairs away from your face, “it’s always been you.”

3K notes · View notes

theostrophywife · 8 months

Text

focus on me.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader request: I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS AND SHE WANTS TO RIDE THEM AND SHES JUST SO OBSESSED AND THINKS HES THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE PLANET- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A PRETZEL WHEN HE GIVES HER THOSE EYES- JESUS IM A CATHOLIC BUT THEO AND MATTHEO COULD BE MY NEW RELIGION- author's note: big thanks to @writingsbychlo for listening to me rant about this man in her inbox. posting this now so she can wake up to her mans. the way that i would fold for mattheo so fast (theo look away). anyways, enjoy this purely smutty fic 😮‍💨

You were supposed to be studying.

When you came into his dorm, you specifically told Mattheo not to interrupt you under any circumstances. Usually, you preferred the library but some prat had accidentally set off a dung bomb, which meant closure until further notice.

You tried studying in your dorm, but your fellow housemates decided that there was no better time to throw a back to school bash in the common room than the night before your Ancient Runes exam. Harry and Ron, who shared the same class, appeared completely unbothered as they chugged firewhisky straight from the bottle.

Your roommate Hermione was long gone. Probably holed up somewhere in the dungeons with Draco. You followed your friend’s cue and snuck into your boyfriend’s dorm, narrowly avoiding Filch. It never seemed fair that the Slytherins got individual rooms, but tonight you had never been more thankful for it.

Mattheo had set up a whole battle station for you on his desk. There were fresh ink pots, newly sharpened quills, and blank parchment waiting for you when you arrived. After kissing your sweet and considerate boyfriend, you went straight to work.

By the time midnight struck, the parchment was filled with glowing runes, making your ink stained hands cramp from drawing out the symbols over and over again. To Mattheo’s credit, he kept to himself and read quietly on his bed while you studied.

You were so engrossed in the material that you barely registered him kissing you on the cheek before leaving to take a shower. That little mistake cost you because as soon as he walked back into his dorm with nothing but a towel on, you nearly spilled fresh ink all over yourself.

Water trickled down Mattheo’s chest, the little droplets snaking through his perfectly chiseled abs only to disappear beyond his v lines, which pointed like an arrow to what you knew was hiding underneath that towel.

The fabric hung dangerously low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. You watched with rapt attention as he braced himself against the wood, those delicious, juicy veins protruding from his forearms and nearly making you dizzy with desire.

Finally, Mattheo turned. The silence had caught his attention and he smirked when he saw you ogling him.

“See something you like, pretty girl?”

You flushed. “Just got a little distracted.”

Mattheo’s grin grew. He sauntered over to you, leaning over so that he had you caged against the desk.

“Oh?” he asked, his voice low and husky and absolutely fucking sexy. “Maybe it’s time for a break then. You’ve been such a good girl studying so hard all night. I think you deserve a reward, my love.”

Your breath hitched as Mattheo’s lips grazed yours. He tilted your chin up, giving you a perfect view of those brown eyes. Then he gave you the look and you knew you were done for.

It was a look that said he wanted to devour every inch of you until you couldn’t even recall your own name. You gave in. Of course you gave in. How could you not?

“Maybe for a second…”

Mattheo took the opening. One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you up with him as he pressed you against the desk. His other arm crept up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fisting your hair through his fingers as he kissed you roughly.

“Do you even know how fucking sexy you are, princess? My smart schoolgirl in her tiny little skirt.”

Mattheo carefully moved your studying materials aside before picking you up and setting you down on the table. He gripped the top of your thighs and brought you to the edge while sliding his tongue against yours. You whimpered as he grinded against you, showing you exactly how hard he was underneath the towel.

“Been thinking about bending you over this table all night,” Mattheo whispered in your ear. His hand climbed higher up your thigh and you felt your body instantly respond to his touch. “Bet you’re soaking wet for me already, aren’t you angel?”

You moaned as he toyed with the waistband of your panties. “Matty, please.”

Your boyfriend smiled at your nickname for him, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. “What is it that you want, darling?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Mattheo smirked as he tugged your panties off. His lust filled gaze drank you in as he dragged two fingers through your slick folds.

“Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this all for me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, nipping at his neck. “It’s not fair. You play dirty, Matty. You can’t just walk in here with nothing but a towel on.”

“Why not, angel?”

You sighed, tracing the hard planes of his chest. His muscles flexed under your fingertips as you gently raked your nails against his six pack. “Because you’re sexy and I can’t help myself.”

Mattheo chuckled darkly, plunging two fingers in your pussy. You bucked against his hand, watching in stunned silence as he withdrew it only to stick his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted you on him.

“This is exactly what I mean,” you whined. “For Godric’s fucking sake, how am I supposed to concentrate after that?”

“Maybe we can compromise, angel.” He shuffled through your parchments and stuck one to the wall. “I’m going to trace the runes inside of you and if you get them all right, then I’ll give you your reward.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Mattheo grinned before giving you a quick peck. “Pay attention, sweetheart.”

His fingers dipped through your folds once more and you gripped his arm, fighting the moan from escaping your lips. Mattheo curled his fingers inside of you, drawing a familiar shape.

“Urus,” you said in a breathy voice. “It means strength.”

“That’s right, angel.” He shifted as you ran your hands down his arms. You could feel his veins throbbing underneath your palm as he fingered you. “Don’t get distracted now. I know how much you love my hands. I promise they’ll be wrapped around your throat by the end of the night if you get all these right. Now focus.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering close as he traced another rune. “Algiz,” you answered. “For protection.”

“Hot and smart,” Mattheo announced proudly. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips grazed yours and you willingly parted for him, fluttering around his fingers as his tongue slid into your mouth. He pumped his digits inside of you, teasing and taunting.

“Let’s try something harder, princess.”

Mattheo’s skillful fingers prodded against your walls, sketching a complicated shape. You closed your eyes and focused. It was a tricky one, but you remembered the cris cross pattern.

“Inguz,” you said decidedly. “Fertility.”

“That’s right,” Mattheo said with a smile. “You're doing so well, sweetheart. One more and you can have anything you want.”

“Anything?” you asked with a small smile.

“Whatever that devious little mind of yours desires, my love.”

“Okay,” you replied. “I’m ready, then.”

Your boyfriend nodded, staring right into your eyes as he marked the last and final rune. It was an effort not to get lost in those warm, brown eyes. But you steeled yourself, determined to claim your prize.

“Rerth. For luck.”

“Good girl,” Mattheo said with a smirk. “Fitting since you’re getting lucky tonight, angel. Where should we start?”

You bit your lip, cocking your head at him. It was nearly an impossible choice. You wanted to kiss him. Bite him. Lick him. All of the above and more.

But there was one thing that stood out from all the other deliciously sinful choices. You pressed your palm against his abs and grinned.

“I want to ride your abs.”

Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it, but fuck he was so down. He would’ve given you anything with the way you were looking at him right now.

“You never fail to surprise me,” he said fondly. “Well come on then, let’s make your filthy little fantasy a reality.”

In one smooth move, he lifted you off the table and deposited you on top of his bed. Mattheo reclined against the headboard and watched with hungry eyes as you straddled his stomach. He smiled as you slipped the tie off your neck and looped it around him.

It was a simple move, but so fucking sexy and possessive at the same time. You were claiming him. Mattheo was yours and you were his. You belonged to one another—mind, body, and soul.

Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks on your skin as his deft fingers made quick work of the first few buttons on your blouse. He leaned back and admired his work, his hands gripping your hips while you grinded your soaking wet sex against his muscles.

He didn’t think it would feel this good. There was something about you using his body to get yourself off that fucking turned him on like no other. Mattheo lifted your skirt up, fisting the fabric in his hands and watching as you coated him with your arousal.

The little whimpers you were making sounded like music to his ears. “My good little slut,” he said, squeezing your tits as you rode him with reckless abandon. “You’re so fucking filthy, baby. Using me to get yourself off. I’m just your fuck toy aren’t I princess?”

“So good,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Matty.”

The desperation in your voice set him off. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and bucked forward, smirking in satisfaction when you moaned. The ridges of his abs rubbed against your clit, providing the perfect amount of pressure to the sensitive area.

“Keep riding me,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Just like that, angel. Such a good girl for me.”

You closed your eyes, lost to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Mattheo gripped your chin, his voice rough around the edges as he spoke. “Open your eyes, darling. I want to watch you cum.”

His rich brown eyes pinned you in place, drinking in every detail. That sexy smirk curved against his lips as he hooked his arms behind his head, admiring the view of his girl riding him.

“Look at you, baby. You’re making such a fucking mess. Such an innocent face, but you turn into a filthy whore when you’re with me.”

“Only for you, Mattheo.”

“Damn fucking right,” he said, sliding his hands under your skirt to rub at your clit.

You bucked against him, riding out the high. Heat exploded in your core and seeped into your veins. Mattheo kissed you roughly, staking his claim on you as he devoured your moans.

“That’s it, princess. Cum for me, pretty girl.”

The orgasm felt like a lightning strike. It hit you all at once, making your walls spasm as you came all over Mattheo’s abs. He cursed when he felt you soaking him through, utterly turned on by the mess that you’ve made. Mattheo had never been harder in his life.

Your boyfriend peppered kisses on your face, pulling you taut to him as you came down from the high. Mattheo brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so he could press his lips against yours. He groaned and held your hips down, grinding his boner against your ass.

“I’m not done making you cum, princess. You’ve got one more in you, don’t you angel?”

As sensitive as you were, your pussy throbbed at his words. When it came to Mattheo, you could never really get enough.

“I thought I only got one reward. You’re spoiling me, Matty.”

“There’s no question about it. You’re my spoiled rotten little princess. But this reward isn’t for you, it’s for me.” He smacked your ass, gesturing for you to get up. “Now come on, angel. I was serious about that desk.”

He smirked as he walked you back to his desk, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass. Mattheo kissed you roughly before he flipped you over, bending you on the desk so you were face down and ass up. He flipped your skirt up, hissing when he found you soaking wet again.

“You just can’t help yourself can you, princess?” He pumped himself in his hand before sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. “Gods, you’re fucking wet. Are you ready, baby?”

You whimpered, rocking your hips against him for more friction. Mattheo held you in place, fisting your hair in his hands.

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg like the good little slut that you are.”

“Please, Matty,” you whined. “I need you so badly that it hurts.”

He kissed the base of your spine, grinning as he eased his length inside of you. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you gripped the edges of the table as Mattheo buried his cock within your walls. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, but he kept you upright, cursing when he felt how wet and tight you were.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he thrust into you slowly. Mattheo gripped you from behind, picking up the pace. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice. “Gods, pussy’s so good baby. You’re doing so well. Taking all of me like my perfect little whore.”

Mattheo fucking adored the way you blushed at his filthy words. He leaned over, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you into the table. He thought he was going to pass the fuck out when you grinded back into him, meeting his movements to take more and more of him. Mattheo leaned over and shielded your head from the wall, making sure you were protected as the table shook underneath you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy little moans was enough to send him over the edge, but he wanted to make good on his promise. Mattheo always put his girl first. The boys were right. He might be just a little bit pussy whipped.

Even without the sex, you could’ve asked Mattheo to kill for you and he would’ve done so without question.

“I fucking love you, darling. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you,” he said, every word laced with conviction. “Forever and always.”

“I love you too, Matty. Forever and always.”

He kissed your cheek, the action surprisingly soft compared to how rough the sex was. You felt like you could’ve melted onto the floor.

“Cum with me, my love.”

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you as that familiar heat spread burned in your core. He held you as the orgasm rocked through your body, sharing in the euphoric high while the two of you finished together. His grip around you only tightened, hugging you from behind while he slowly pulled out. You were barely keeping upright as it was, your legs threatening to give out under you.

Without a word, your boyfriend scooped you into his arms and brought you back to bed. He cradled you against him, whispering praises and encouragement while stroking your hair.

“You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you for remembering all those runes. You’re gonna ace your exam tomorrow.”

“You really think so, Matty?” You snuggled against him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mattheo stroked your back and placed a kiss on your temple.

“I know so, darling. You have no idea how proud I am for having such a smart girlfriend. I love bragging about you to our friends.”

You flushed. “Well, I couldn’t have done it all on my own. I had some help from my smart, sweet, and sexy study partner.

Mattheo grinned and kissed you gently. “Glad to be of service, my love.”

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

#FERAL FOR THIS MAN #THE DELULU IS THE SOLULU #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo x you #benjamin wadsworth

8K notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 4 months

Text

Learning From The Best

Jihyo and Yunjin! A great duo when you think about it. This turned out to be pretty long too.

Length 3.2K

Jihyo X Reader X Yunjin

Jihyo, tray in hand, slowly walked to her stepdaughter’s room. She wanted to bring in some snacks for her and her boyfriend. She was about to knock when she noticed the door was left slightly open. Before she pushed open the door, she heard low groans. Jihyo silently gasped as she saw what was going on. Inside was her stepdaughter Yunjin giving you a blowjob.

She sees Yunjin struggle, barely able to fit the tip of your cock in her mouth. However, the sight is more than enough to arouse her. Jihyo doesn’t notice that she’s rubbing her thighs together or that she licks her lips at the sight of your cock. She places the tray of snacks on a small nearby table. It balances precariously on the edge; the tray was too big. Still, Jihyo headed back to watch more. Her hand moves under her pants and underwear, gently sliding along her slit. Jihyo covers her mouth with her other hand. Her fingers push deep inside her slit as she watches her stepdaughter struggle.

The tray she placed on the table fell off, alerting you and Yunjin. Jihyo, aware that she could get caught, sneaks to the plate, putting everything back onto it. “Sorry! I drop a tray of snacks!” She yells as she wipes her slick hand on her pants. You and Yunjin poke out into the hallway and help her pick everything up, unaware she has been watching you. Once everything was back on the tray, she handed it to Yunjin before walking away.

Jihyo headed to her room, shutting the door behind her. She snuck her hand into her shirt and squeezed one of her tits while her other hand went back into her pants. She sat on her bed, fingering herself as she reimagined what she saw. In her mind, things changed. She got involved, taking your cock inside her. Jihyo imagined what your cock must feel like; she pushed her fingers in deeper, scraping her walls with curled fingers as she pulled out. Her husband has been away on a business trip for a long time. So the moment she saw her daughter getting some action, it awakened her urges. Jihyo bent herself over the bed, biting into it as she pulled on her nipple. She felt an orgasm coming and needed to keep quiet while you were still in the house. Jihyo moaned into the bed as she came; her pants became thoroughly soaked by her juices, and she was out of breath. Jihyo pulled her fingers out and moved them along her wet lips, groaning as she basked in the afterglow.

It still wasn’t enough for her. Jihyo continued to play with her pussy as she imagined you fucking her. She pulled down her pants and threw off her top before getting rid of her undergarments. As she was doing that, she got a look at herself in the mirror, her big tits and wide hips. What she focused on most, though, was her thighs. They were slick, her nectar running down them. She thought about what she was doing and tried to control herself. She grabbed other clothes; she needed to take a cold shower to clear her mind.

She exited her room and ran into Yunjin, who was walking back from the front door. “Oh, did your boyfriend leave?”

Yunjin moved her hair behind her ear, “Um, yeah. We were…I mean, he got busy.” Jihyo considered her words and thought back to her struggle with you.

“Yunjin…” Jihyo said, considering what she could do and if she should bring up what she saw. “Yunjin, I saw what you were doing with him.”

“You-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yunjin, I saw you giving him a blowjob,” Jihyo says, a plan forming in the back of her head. “It didn’t look like he was enjoying it very much.”

“I-was I doing a bad job? Is that why he left early?” She says quietly, beginning to doubt herself.

“Honey, don’t put yourself down. You’re a late bloomer, is all. You’re in college with your first boyfriend. I could always help you learn more about sex.”

“But you’re my-”

“I’m your stepmom. It’s my duty to help you. I have more experience than you. Why don’t you let me join in next time you get with your boyfriend so I can help you?”

“I don’t know. that sounds-”

“Yunjin, he would be happy if I taught you. You would be able to do so much. Imagine how amazed he would be if you managed to swallow more of his cock.” Jihyo was trying to lower Yunjin’s self-esteem just enough for her to agree.

“I guess you’re right. The next time he comes. We’ll do it.” Jihyo gives her stepdaughter a nod and heads into the bathroom to shower. She’s satisfied with herself and masturbating, excited about getting to have sex after so long. She didn’t care about cheating on her husband.

Somedays passed by before Yunjin invited you to come back to her house. You were a bit hesitant, but she told you things would go a lot better this time. You greeted her stepmom Jihyo at the door before being taken to her room. Yunjin left the door open and had you sit on her bed. Placing her hand over your crotch, she says that she wants to try again. You look her in the eyes before moving downward to her chest. The shirt she chose to wear gave you a slight look at her cleavage. She felt your bulge grow and blushed. “I have someone that is going to help me.” A knock at the door catches your attention. Jihyo is standing in the doorway, naked. Her figure was amazing; her big tits and small waist combined with her wide hips made her look like a goddess. You felt a twinge of pain as your pants grew tighter.

“Yunjin, you should take your clothes off. We all know what’s going to happen.” Yunjin gives her stepmother a slight nod and grabs the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off her body. Her modest chest rose as she took a breath; her small brown nipples were already hard. She stands up, removing her pants. You can’t help but focus on Jihyo; however, her hips swaying with every step, and the slight bounce of her tits hypnotizing you. “Let’s get these clothes off you.” She whispers into your ear. Yunjin helps you remove your clothes and sits on one side of you while Jihyo sits on the other. “I saw my stepdaughter and you the other day. I thought I could help show her how to please her man.” She says, wrapping her hand around your cock. She moves her hand slowly up your shaft, her gentle grip making you shudder. “That feels good, doesn’t it? Take notes, Yunjin.” Yunjin looks intently as Jihyo’s hand glides up and down your shaft. Jihyo plants her lips on your neck as she strokes your cock. “You want to fuck my pussy, don’t you? I saw the way you looked at me. You want to fuck me in front of my stepdaughter.” You moan in response. “Yunjin, dirty talk is always a good thing. You won’t use it today, but keep that in mind.”

Jihyo takes her hand off your cock; you miss the pleasure you got from her almost immediately. “It’s your turn, Yunjin. Hold his cock gently and move your hand slowly.” You feel Yunjin’s hand now; it’s smaller but softer than Jihyo’s. She moves her hand along your shaft, her grip slightly too tight. “Loosen up, Yunjin. Your hand needs to glide along his cock.” Yunjin nods her head and loosens her grip.

“Does it feel good?” She asks you as she continues to stroke your cock.

“It feels really good, Yunjin.” You moan. Jihyo moves around behind you and presses her tits against the back of your head. Her soft mounds feel nice as she moves them around.

“Yunjin, let him play with your tits.” She pushes her chest out for you to play with. Yunjin’s tits are firm and perky, her nipple hard. You flick it, making her release a light moan. You squeeze them, enjoying how they feel in your hand. In response, Yunjin speeds up her handjob, and her hand glides along your cock, getting covered in precum. “That’s good, Yunjin, but slow down. We don’t want him to cum just yet.” Jihyo tells her. “I want you to save some for me.” She whispers to you. “Play with the tip; use your thumb. Slowly move it along the edges, then move over the middle.” Your girlfriend does as she’s told. She moves her thumb around the tip of your cock, rubbing it well. You groan loudly. You’re on the verge of cumming. “Yunjin, stop. We’re going to give him a blowjob now.”

Jihyo climbs off the bed and kneels before you, dragging along Yunjin. “I’ll tell you what to do, Honey.” Jihyo grabs Yunjin’s hair, holding it up for her. Yunjin looks at her nervously. “Go ahead.” While the last blowjob felt good, you weren’t able to cum from it. You hoped this time would go better. Yunjin pressed her lips against the tip of your cock, moving them side to side at first before taking in the head. “Okay, good. Use your tongue on it and relax your throat.” You feel Yunjin’s tongue move around your cock, licking the sides of your shaft. You moan her name and tilt your head back as you enjoy the warmth of her mouth. “Take a little more in.” Yunjin pushes her head down, taking some of your shaft. Her tongue moves along the underside. “Relax your throat.”

Yunjin glances at her stepmother and nods. She tries to relax her throat and forces herself to take more of your cock. She reaches the halfway point. “Good. That’s enough for now; bob your head and use your tongue to finish him off.” Yunjin follows along; she bobs her head, never passing the midway point. Her tongue laps at the sides of your cock until she reaches the head, running over it as she laps up your precum. You moan Yunjin’s name. A small smile forms on her face; she is happy to hear you moan her name. Jihyo got up and sat beside you, kissing your neck. “Now cum in my daughter’s mouth. I know you want to.” She says in a low voice. Your throbbing cock signaled to Yunjin something was coming, but she didn’t expect her mouth to become flooded with your cum. Yunjin’s mouth quickly filled with the warm liquid before it spilled out, running down the corners of her mouth and splattering onto her tits.

Jihyo congratulates Yunjin for her hard work. “You did great, Honey. Are you ready to move on to the next step?”

Yunjin coughs and nods her head. “I want to do it.” Jihyo helps Yunjin onto her feet. Your girlfriend lays down on the bed, looking at you with excitement.

“You’re going to get to fuck my stepdaughter. Aren’t you lucky?” Jihyo says as she strokes your cock. You moan, making Jihyo smile. She continues to pump your shaft until you’re hard. “Now go on. Fuck her.” Yunjin spreads her legs and extends her arms, waiting for you to put it in. You align yourself with her entrance, pushing in slightly. There was some resistance, but you can push past it and inside. You feel Yunjin’s pussy stretching to accommodate you. Yunjin’s walls push against your cock, and you both moan. Yunjin’s cunt was tight and wet. You push in more, wanting to take things slow. Jihyo had other plans, however, and pushed you into Yunjin, making her take every inch. Yunjin cried out as she felt herself be impaled on your cock. You look over your shoulder to see Jihyo masturbating, playing with her tits and fingering herself as she watches. You start thrusting into Yunjin, her high-pitched moans arousing you further. Her legs wrap around behind your back, as do her arms. She calls your name as you bury yourself inside her repeatedly.

“It feels so good. You’re so big.” Yunjin moans as you thrust. “Kiss me,” she says, her voice desperate. You press your lips against Yunjin’s. Her light moans grant you access to the inside of her mouth. Your tongue explores it as she continues to moan. You feel Yunjin’s nipples move against your chest, and her legs push you in further as she loses herself to the pleasure. “Something’s coming, something’s coming!” She cries out as she climaxes. Yunjin’s walls clamp down on your cock, growing tighter. You slam your hips into Yunjin, the loud claps filling the room. On the verge of cumming yourself, you pick up the pace. Yunjin’s cries grow louder as she feels your cock slide in and out quickly.

“I’m cumming.” You groan. “I’m cumming.”

“You can’t cum inside, pull out. Pull out!” Yunjin says in a panicked voice while keeping her legs wrapped around you. You struggle against Yunjin but manage to pull out in time, your cum shooting out onto her stomach. You both take deep breaths, recovering slowly. Yunjin gives you a genuine smile and kisses you. She lets go of you and rests her head. She was tired and soon fell asleep.

As you sit in front of Yunjin, looking at her sleeping form, Jihyo comes up from behind you. Her hands wrap around your waist as she presses her tits against your back. “I hope you didn’t forget about me.” Jihyo wraps her hand around your flaccid cock, stroking it slowly in a way that only she could. “You wanted to cum inside of Yunjin, didn’t you?”

“I did.” You reply, huffing.

“It’s too bad she didn’t let you, but I will.” You turn to face Jihyo. She continues to stroke your cock. “You’re getting hard again. Does it sound that good?” She says with a laugh. “You like the idea that much? Cumming inside your girlfriend’s stepmom while she’s sleeping right in front of you?” You don’t say a word; your cock is doing the talking for you. Jihyo presses her tits against you again. “Let me use these. You were staring at them earlier. Lay down for me, baby.” You do as instructed. Jihyo crawls toward you, her heavy mounds swaying as she moves. Jihyo places your cock between her soft tits and moves them up and down your shaft. “Your cock’s so big, it’s poking out the top.” She says as she presses her tits together, creating more friction. “Watching you fuck my daughter was so hot. I couldn’t wait for my turn.” You watch as Jihyo’s tits begin to shine as your cum covers them. Jihyo was skillful; she knew how to use her body in just the right way. With your cock poking out from in between her tits, Jihyo used her tongue, lapping at the head when it poked out.

“Shit. You’re on another level.”

“I know. If you’re interested, we could do this all the time while my husband is gone. We’ll just say their lessons. Do you like the sound of that? A mommy-daughter threesome?”

“That sounds amazing,” You moan. Your cock begins to twitch between Jihyo’s tits. She smiles at you.

“Cum on my tits, make them yours.” She commands. You release the tension and cum on Jihyo’s tits. Your cum spurts into the air, landing on them. She has a wide smile on her face as she uses her tits to milk you. She pulls away once you run dry and massages your cum into her skin. Jihyo moans as she does so, arousing you even more. “It’s time for the good part,” Jihyo says in a low, seductive tone. She crawls toward you, climbing up your body until she’s face to face with you. “Tell me how much you want me,” Jihyo says as she grabs your cock and rubs it between her folds.

“I want to fuck you.” You groan.

“I know. Where do you want to cum.”

“I want to cum inside you. I want to fill your pussy with my cum.” Jihyo smirks, liking your answer.

She leans down and kisses you before saying, “Then fill me up, baby. Make me your woman.” Jihyo places your cock against her pussy and slams herself down. “Oh fuck!” She moans. Jihyo rocks her hips back and forth as she does a low hum of pleasure. “This is just what I thought it would feel like. Nice and big.” Jihyo places her hand over her lower stomach, “It feels like you’re right here. Right against my womb.” Jihyo’s pussy was tight, her muscles tightening around your cock. Then she started bouncing on it; you felt her swallow the entirety of your cock in swift motions. You looked up at the woman before you, her tits bouncing as she crashed onto your cock. Jihyo had eyes filled with lust. Her moans were unrestrained and filled the room. Jihyo grabbed your hands and placed them on her tits, “Play with them. I know you want to.” You couldn’t deny her words. You squeezed her tits; they were soft and jiggled slightly if you shook them. Jihyo’s moans only grew louder; her hair covered half her face, and she had a look of pure bliss. You felt yourself nearing your climax, your cock throbbing inside the older woman.

“You’re going to cum. I can feel it. Hold on just a little bit longer; I’m getting close. I’ll give you a nice reward if you do.” You place your hands on Jihyo’s waist and grit your teeth as you try to hold on. You felt Jihyo’s walls clench around your cock as she impaled herself on it. “Fuck! You’re messing me up inside. I’m going to cum.” Jihyo looks down and steals a kiss from you. “Cum inside me. Fill my pussy. I want to feel your cum inside me.” She says as she slams herself down and buries your cock inside her. Jihyo throws her head back and cries out in pleasure as she cums. You let go as well, letting your cum flood her cunt, pumping her full of it just how she wanted. You felt Jihyo’s cunt milking you, greedily taking every drop of cum. Jihyo rocks back and forth for a few minutes, remaining tied to you until she recovers. “You managed to hold back. I guess you deserve that reward.”

Jihyo unmounts you. She looks down at her body and spreads her lips, watching cum drip out of her. She has a satisfied smirk on her face as she gets between your legs and grabs your cock. “I’ll clean you up.” Jihyo presses her lips around the head of your cock and takes it into her mouth; in one smooth motion, she moves down to the base of your cock. A few spurts of cum shoot out into her mouth as you experience your first deepthroat blowjob. Jihyo’s tongue moves around your shaft as she makes her way up. Jihyo’s lips were tightly wrapped around your shaft, dragging along any cum she might have missed. With a pop, she leaves your cock. She opens her mouth, letting you see her mouth full of your cum before she drinks it. Jihyo smiles at you as she climbs off the bed and heads for the door.

You look over at Yunjin, seeing that she is still asleep. “Don’t worry about her. She’s a heavy sleeper. You could probably fuck her, and she’d sleep right through it. Oh, and I look forward to our next lesson. Yunjin will get there one day.”

#kpop smut #twice smut #jihyo smut #le sserafim smut #yunjin smut #male reader #m reader

1K notes · View notes

whiskygoldwings · 3 months

Text

The Tattooist

The first clone trooper client she tattoos is an act of remembrance.

The man stands forlorn and desperate in the reception area, his borrowed clothes fitting poorly on his slumped frame. His face is tight, like a man on the edge of screaming, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. She recognises this pain, and quickly ushers him into her workroom, calling for A'maa to take the front desk while she speaks to a client. He breaths slightly easier once they are no longer in public, and she gestures for him to sit on the well-worn sofa she reserves for guests.

“I haven't got many credits,” he admits straight up. “They don't exactly pay us. I just wanted to see what could be done for what I have.”

She nods and grabs a pad and stylus, settling herself into her armchair and crossing her legs. “Tell me what you want and how much you've got and I'll see what I can do.”

He swallows painfully, and reaches into his pocket. “I have exactly 134 credits,” he holds a handful of ingots, and she glances down before looking back at his face. “I looked you up; I know it's not much in terms of tattoos. It's just... It's all I could scrape together...” he stumbles over his words, embarassment curling his lips.

“And what you want?” She interrupts, halting his ashamed attempts at explaining himself.

He takes a deep breath, grimaces, then sighs. “My brother was killed in the last battle. His name was Star. The long-necks... The Kaminoans I mean, never let us mourn each other where they could see. But he's my brother. We were born of the same batch, he helped me when I struggled with the maths tests, we had each others backs... I have a million odd brothers, but he was mine...” He presses his thumb and forefinger into his tightly-shut eyes, choking back a sob. “I want to honour him forever. I want to carry him with me, in a way they can't take away from me.” At this he straightens, bringing his hand down to stare at her determinedly. “They can make us wash our armour off, take our possessions from us. They will have to flay my skin from me if they want to take this.”

She stares back, stylus against her lips, and feels a swell of righteous fury in her throat. She's always had a mild force-sensitivity. Not enough to make training her of any worth, but enough that she can get a feel of a person, enough she can get a taste of their emotions.

This is a proud, strong man. And he is not broken by the hardships he faces, as much as he should be.

She will honour his brother with him.

The design practically leaps from her stylus, as she coaxes little stories from him. Little tales of his brother. His name was Star, he tells her first, and she sketches the rough outlines of one. He named himself, the man tells her, not giving his own name. Named himself after the balls of fury in the universe that were always out of their reach of Kamino. He laughs quietly, painfully, as he tells her the first time they had snuck out on a rainless night, when there was a brief respite in the clouds of Kamino, and by chance, there was a meteor shower over head. They'd all been amazed, confused and delighted by the sight, their little squad of five. One of the trainers, a kind man named Kal, had chuckled and told them “That'll be a shooting star” when they ask him about the phenomena, and Star had whispered to him in their bunks that night that he had decided on his name.

“I used to call him a shooting Star when we were in sims,” the man admits, a crooked grin on his face. “He kicked me in the shin for it once. Think he actually kinda liked it though.”

She adds a trail of dust behind it.

“He was so proud of being an ARF,” the man whispers. “So proud when I was nominated for ARF training alone with him. I was never as good as him, but he always took me with him, wherever he went. When the Commander told us we were getting the training, he basically hugged him. The Commander just gave him a pat on the back and told him never to do it again or he'd demote him quick as sithspit” the man snorts. “He didn't mean it, but Star'd never moved so bloody quick back into a salute, I couldn't help laughing at him, the idiot.”

She tabs out and finds a reference for an ARF troopers helmet on the 'net, and draws the trail of star dust bursting out of it and curling round to meet with the star itself.

“Our battallion wears green. Mainly olive-green. The commander started it, reminds him of the General I suspect. We became Green Company.”

The dust trail gathers sprinkles of olive green, the Star limned in the colour. She hesitates for a moment, then asks. “What markings did he wear?”

The man startles; she'd been loath to bring him out of his memories, but she wants to make it accurate. Needs to make it accurate really. She can feel how important this piece is to the man, and she finds herself strongly opposed to disappointing him.

“He had two stars on the left hand side of his helmet, one within the other.” The man indicates a point on his crown, above his ear. “And his visor was lined in green. He had a stripe vertically down the right hand side, ending just under the visor itself. On his chest piece...”

She lets him continue detailing his armour, drawing another star in olive green within the big one, then delicately tipping the helmet to conceal where the star would have been on the left. She's good, but it would have been too small to depict without potentially bleeding into a solid line, and she doesn't want that to happen. Instead, she marks in the line on the right-hand side, and ensures the big star is representative of what she imagines was on the helmet.

He's trailed off, staring sightlessly at his hands in his lap. She doesn't want to shake him, suspects alarming a trained soldier out of his own mind would be a bad idea. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, and clears her throat lightly. He glances up at her, and she smiles and extends the pad to him.

“Is something like this what you had in mind?”

He blinks at her, than reaches over and takes the pad. She sees the moment when he takes in the image. His eyes widen, and a tear he's been holding back since well before he got here slides down his cheek. He presses his fist into his mouth, other hand shaking where it holds the pad and he nods, clenching his eyes shut. “y-yes... Oh yes...” He stammers, voice thick.

“Where would you like it?”

“Over my heart,” he whispers. “I will carry him always in my heart.”

She stands abruptly, making him jump slightly and reaches out for the pad. “Okay, shirt off and lie down on the bed for me please. I assume as a clone trooper you're routinely screened for any blood diseases?” He nods, standing up with a slightly dazed expression on his face. She nods back and turns away, beginning the ritual of preparing her inks. She's playing a game of avoidance now, knows she won't take this man's money, and if she can keep him from asking about it she may be able to get it finished before he finds out. She suspects he'd do the honourable thing and refuse to get the tattoo. It'll be harder for him to do if it's halfway done. And while normally she'd insist on a full disclosure form and signature, she gets the feeling having no hardcopy evidence of what is about to happen will be a very good idea. The pad will need reformatting after she's done, but she's been required to do that for other clients who want their body art to be completely untraceable, so she doesn't store anything of any import on it for long anyway. She hears the rustle of cloth behind her and smiles slightly to herself, pleased at a plan going well. “Would you tell me more about him please?”

The man takes a deep breath behind her, even as she hears the bed creak as he clambers onto it. “He was always good at slipping by unnoticed. It's how he kept us both out of trouble back in training...”

She finishes mixing up the colours she needs as he begins to tell her about their childhood, what little of it there was. Checks her machine and cleans the patch of skin above his heart as he laughs about a prank played on one of their batchmates. It warms her and chills her at the same time, realising how little they had, but what great things they made of what they did. She prints out the stencil and places it over his chest as he whispers about Star easing him through the tail end of a nightmare, checking quietly that he's happy with the position before pressing the needle to his skin. He breaths in through his nose once when she starts, and she glances up at him, but he smiles and continues on into a story about when they first met their Jedi, and how Star gushed about her afterwards. She sinks into the meditative process of stamping lines into being, bringing colour to life, all the while surrounded by the man's soft voice building a memorial to his brother in their room.

When it's finished, the man looks surprised. “I thought it would take longer than that?” He blinks at her, “And be more painful in all honesty.”

She grins, “You did your research well hon, I'm good at what I do.”

He laughs and sits up, wincing slightly as the skin stretches around the wound. She squirts cleaner onto a cloth and holds it towards his chest, pausing before touching the tattoo for him to give a nod of permission, then wipes carefully across it, removing excess ink and stencil gently. Looking it over critically, she's happy with what she's done, knows she's poured herself into this tattoo as well. The lines are clean and crisp, the colours deep and rich. The helmet tilts up to look at the star above it, the trail of stardust sweeping behind it and curling up to emerge from the opening of the helmet at the bottom. Olive green accents in the tail, the line over the right-hand side of the helmet and around the visor, and the outer and inner two stars. She nods to herself, and grins up at him. “Ready to see it?”

He swallows nervously, but nods. She feels her grin quirk into a proper smile, then holds out her hand to him. He looks at it for a second, then places his own in hers, and she helps pull him from the bed. She keeps hold of his hand as she guides him to the full length mirror just beside the couch, and gently pulls him to stand infront of it. The hand in hers trembles as he stares at his reflection, taking a moment on his own face to gather his courage, then looks down at his chest.

The noise that punches out of his lungs is almost animal, and she grips his hand tightly. He cries openly, other hand reaching up to hover just under the tattoo as he looks down at his own chest. It's several moments before he can say anything, and she stands next to him the whole time, holding his hand as he clenches onto hers. He cries and cries, grief finally allowed expression, as she gives him silent comfort in proximity. His first words are “thank you”, and she smiles at him, as he starts to collect himself and turns away from her to try and pull himself back together.

“I'll give you a few minutes to check it over and make sure you're happy before I bandage it up,” she murmers, and steps quietly out of the room, giving him privacy in his sorrow.

A'maa glances up at her as she steps out, raising an eyebrow. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be working today, and she hadn't considered that A'maa might have had to turn away one of her own clients when she committed to tattooing the man. But A'maa glances over at the door to her workroom and shakes her head. “Don't worry about it Elaah,” she whispers, “Whatever it was, it was clearly important.”

“Yes,” Elaah whispers back, walking over to cradle herself in A'maa's outstretched arm, seeking the comfort of her own found family. “Yes, it really was.”

It's a few more minutes before the man opens the door, glancing around the edge of it. She quickly cuts off her conversation with A'maa and smiles at him. “Ready to get bandaged up?”

He nods and smiles, face a little blotchy from the tears, though neither she nor A'maa say anything. She gives A'maa's shoulder a quick squeeze, then heads into the room, leaving the door ajar this time. The man stands infront of the mirror again, gazing down at his new ink, and she quickly grabs the bits she needs to finish off. He smiles at her as holds the fake skin bandage up to his chest, carefully sizing it up to fit nicely over the tattoo.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing hon, you paid me in stories.”

He protests immediately, as she suspected he would. “Too late hon!” she grins at him. “It's already on your skin and I'll throw your credits out onto the street after you if you try leaving them behind. Good luck winning this one!” She winks and pats him on the shoulder, turning away to grab his top and thrusting it into his abdomen. He grabs it and gapes at her, clearly not quite sure what to say, before straightening and flashing a sheepish grin at her.

“You planned this from the start didn't you?” He asks, pulling the top over his head and rolling his eyes as she throws him a cheeky wink and nods.

“I've got to give you something, this means so much to me... You have no idea...” He gulps and shakes his head, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. “Tell you what, I'll make sure anyone else who might be thinking of getting some ink heads this way?”

She shrugs. “I'm not going to turn down customers, but you don't owe me anything. I just hope you think of Star whenever you see it.”

“I will,” he murmurs, a hand going to rest over where the tattoo sits over his heart. He glances up at her. “My name is Trix. I just... wanted you to know that.”

She smiles at him, and gently rests a hand over his own. “Thank you Trix.” she says, smiling up at him, “Thank you for everything you and your brothers do for us.”

He grasps her hand with his other one and squeezes it tightly for a moment, before turning around and walking out the shop.

#the clone wars #clone troopers #fanfic #fanfiction #feels #tattoos #tattoos as healing #star wars #oc characters #also posted to ao3 #CentrauGuardian

1K notes · View notes

stevebabey · 1 year

Text

@scooprtroopr ur tags on this post inspired a lil something and well, here you go friend <3 / also omg this fits for @steddie-week’s prompt pining! tehe / you can also read it over on ao3 :)

Steve gets that this is how karma works.

You do something bad, you don’t have the best intentions, you trample on one or two people’s feelings selfishly, yadda yadda. Then what do you know? Next month, it’s happening to you. What goes around comes around, right?

That’s how karma works. Steve gets that.

And yet, the sting in the morning when another hookup has crept out in the night feels so goddamn unshakeable. It slices through his ego, hitting every feeling on the way, and cuts right down the bone, and it hurts.

But it’s karma though, Steve knows that. He’s left a girl more than once or twice, and snuck back out the window he had crept into. Stumbled back to his car in the early morning hours.

(Steve pointedly ignores the old part of him that was- is so hesitant to stay — after the iciness of his first ever hookup, who had wrinkled her nose at the thought of him staying the night.

Who had patted him on the cheek in a near condescending way, a girl the year above him, and said, “Don’t overstay your welcome, yeah?”)

So when the other side of the bed is empty when he wakes, he knows he’s lost another game of ‘who can sneak out on who?’

Which Steve hates — it’s why he stopped going over to his dates house and instead started bringing them back to his. Hoping they might read that his invitation to stay the night extended right out til breakfast. Hell, til lunch if they wanted.

No one has come close to overstaying their welcome in the Harrington house.

Empty sheets rip a new ache in Steve’s chest and he groans, a pitiful noise because— of course, he hasn’t stayed.

Karma has the biggest bone to pick with Steve Harrington and he was really hoping it would be done after all these years. Evidently not.

But… Steve can’t help how much more this one hurts because this one was Eddie.

Steve tries to not let regret coil in his gut. Rolling over he buries his face into his pillow, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to think it over logically. Rationally. Ignores the burning in his throat.

Maybe he’s a fool for thinking Eddie would be different from the past.

But the buildup — before there had been flirting, there had been friendship, proper company between the two of them where there were no expectations. That may very well be due to the fact both of them were dudes but… Steve was so sure. So much of him believed Eddie would still be here when he woke up.

Steve huffs a loud sigh into the pillow. Pretends his chest doesn’t hurt a little bit.

“It’s fine,” He murmurs to himself, voice thick with sleep. His fists clench into the sheets for a moment. “It’s fine.”

He drags himself up and out of bed. Tugs on some stray sweats hanging over the back of his desk chair and ducks into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy, Steve eyes the shower through the reflection. He should, probably, but he might get stuck on a loop in there.

Where did he go wrong this time? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t any of them stay? Why did—

Steve splashes cold water on his face instead, rubbing probably a bit too forcefully at his eyes. He spies the faint pink shape of Eddie’s lips, a mark left on his neck. His fingers grace over it lightly, softly, like a lover would.

Memories hazed with lust remind him of how it had got there, Eddie’s body on his, Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie— without thinking, Steve scrubs at the skin harshly. He wishes it wasn’t there. Wishes there wasn’t any remnant of Eddie left behind.

Steve doesn’t need any mementos to remind him he’s been left behind again.

He needs food, needs to get on with his day, Steve decides. The bathroom door swings closed behind him and Steve tries his best to wrangle his thoughts as he wanders out to the top of the stairs.

A run. That’s what he needs to clear his head. A long run til his heart is pounding in his chest so hard it hurts, til his muscles start burning, breathes coming too fast and his head is finally fucking quiet. Yep, that’s precisely what he needs to shake the sting of last night.

Steve’s so enwrapped in his head, thoughts swirling, that he get manages to get halfway down the hall to the kitchen before he hears the radio. It’s not loud, just enough to carry out the kitchen. Strange. He doesn’t remember leaving it on last night.

His feet carry him into the kitchen, another yawn creeping up and he rubs at his eyes, blinking a bit blearily and— and stops in his tracks. There’s someone at the stove.

Eddie’s at the stove.

Standing in the morning sunlight, hair lighter than ever, puckered scars along his arms standing out. He’s clearly ransacked Steve’s drawers, a pair of Steve’s plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, his own softened band tee from yesterday still on. It’s had its sleeves hacked off, the fabric curling up into little rolls. Steve feels his stomach rise halfway up his throat, his hopes going with it. His heart does a strange stumbling pitter-patter.

He must make a noise because suddenly Eddie’s peaking over his shoulder and smiling at him.

“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting a bit to turn more toward him. Steve can see that he’s cooking, something delicious wafting up from the sizzling pan. His chest tightens, pure surprise wrapping around his sternum and gripping - so much, he can’t control the expression on his face.

“Hi,” Steve breathes. He’s still frozen where he is. He stayed. Steve blinks, taking in the scene before him; Eddie has clearly been puttering around, putting together some sort of breakfast. He fucking stayed and he’s cooking.

Eddie takes it the wrong way. He skittishly looks over the benches, covered in his mess, and tugs on the ends of his hair nervously. “I- it’s a mess, I know, I’m real sorry. I was gonna clean it, I just thought you might like…”

He trails off, unable to get a read on Steve’s expression. Steve doesn’t blame him but he can’t fucking stop his chest from feeling like it’s being pulled open, his heart from feeling like it’s soaring. He huffs an awed laugh, a smile curling at his lips.

Eddie deflates a bit in his relief, giving his own smile. He turns back to the stove quickly, giving the skillet a bit of a shake to keep it from burning and Steve draws closer, feet finally moving. Eddie watches him from the corner of his eye, barely biting back his grin as Steve gets closer. He hovers, feels the heat of Eddie’s back they’re so close.

He tries to feel brave — he stayed — and keeps his closeness, peering over Eddie’s shoulder at the skillet on the stove. It’s the Munson Special that Eddie’s cooked a few times for him over at the trailer; eggs, potatoes, shit tons of cheese, maybe a vegetable if he’s feeling healthy.

“Was gonna bring it to you in bed, but,” Eddie laughs, still tinged in nervousness. He sets down the spatula to tuck his hair behind both ears, glancing sideways at Steve as if trying to understand his silence.

He stayed and he cooked and he’s nervous. Steve thinks he might be holding his breath in disbelief, head dizzy with relief. With affection.

Very slowly, Steve’s hands move and, like he’s waiting for Eddie to flinch away, settles then very gently onto Eddie’s waist. His fingers curl into the soft fabric and Eddie makes a little chirp of happiness and leans back.

Leans into Steve a bit, like he wants his touch the morning after everything and Steve releases a shuddering breath, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. His hands grow a little more bold, sliding around to hug him around the middle.

Eddie’s cheeks have turned pink and his grin hasn’t faltered.

“Made me—” Steve starts, but his voice is a bit raspy. He clears his throat, avoids Eddie’s burning stare. “Y’made me breakfast?”

Eddie nods, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he does. His tummy is warm beneath Steve’s hand and his hair smells good and Steve just wants to burrow into him- he tucks himself closer and is rewarded with a content noise from Eddie.

“That’s not weird, is it?” Eddie asks suddenly, picking up the spatula again and beginning to fiddle needlessly with the food. He flips it once, then again, so it’s on the same side as it was before.

He sounds a bit sheepish when he says, “I’m not sure- I haven’t ever really— I’m actually just gonna shut the hell up before I say anything stupid.”

Steve laughs quietly. His hands tighten around Eddie’s middle, head tilting so he can bury his grin into his shoulder— his heart is going haywire, going a million miles an hour, because karma is finally through with Steve Harrington and he gets to have this.

“S’not weird,” Steve mumbles. He thinks about pressing a kiss into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Ha, you said snot,” Eddie retorts with a childish snort and Steve can’t help it, he laughs at that too, muffled laughter into his t-shirt. Then he presses a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, quick as lightning. Rests his chin back on it like nothing happened.

Eddie still stiffens just a bit- turns his head just a bit to glance at Steve and fuck, Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops.

Because Eddie softens him unbearably with those nervous brown eyes, his pink lips twisted as he tries to hold back his grin. Steve’s beginning to understand that both of them seem equally surprised that this is happening.

Eddie’s free hand moves, pausing only briefly in a moment's hesitance, before it covers one of Steve’s on his tummy. It’s cold, much colder than Steve’s, and he covers it with one of his own instinctively.

Eddie’s trembling fingers give him a little squeeze. Steve thinks he must be able to feel how hard his heart is beating from where his chest is pressed against his back. It’s a lot to deal with; this perfect morning in the sun, the soft sound of the radio, the sweet boy in his arms.

They’re both grinning to themselves. Eddie focuses back on the food before him, doing all his work with one hand, and starts a little hum.

The radio switches to a love song.

#[holding my hand to my ear like im tryna harmonize] gaYyyYYy people in my PhOooooNe #enjoy some short and sweet mutual pining #both can't believe this shit is happening to them #but steve especially #but it IS! eddie thinks he's the cat pajamas!!!#ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddieweek2023

3K notes · View notes

writingbyshiloh · 7 months

Text

Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan.

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan.

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying.

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress.

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words.

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them.

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend.

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her.

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all.

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table.

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way.

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window.

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too.

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go.

You stand and straighten out your dress.

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself.

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up.

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is.

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting.

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it.

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.”

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going.

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest.

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking.

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near.

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again.

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible.

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit.

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan.

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall.

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

2K notes · View notes

lostgirlmuseum · 6 months

Text

Who the Hell is Daryl?

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

He was going to do it. He was really going to do it.

He was finally going to ask you out.

-----

To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.

The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.

The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him.

“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”

He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle.

You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him.

“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena.

His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.

I’m going to marry her someday.

He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.

Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck.

After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings.

You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.

He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.

“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”

“You got it, Doll.”

“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.

Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.

But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.

Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?

Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.

Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around

You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?

Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful

You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?

Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set.

So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?

Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.

Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.

You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.

“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.

“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.

“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”

With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.

Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.

Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall.

And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees.

Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?”

“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”

“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly.

Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.

“Which friend?”

“Penny.”

So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.

He didn’t move from his bed.

“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.

He couldn’t get himself to respond.

The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.

“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.

A pause.

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.

“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”

“Okay…”

He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him.

“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”

He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.

“Where were you?” He asked.

You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this.

“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.

Your eyes widened at his bite.

“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.

“I am!”

“Then who is Daryl?”

“What?”

“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.

“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.

“Call the number.” You simply said.

“What?” He repeated.

“Take my phone, and call the number.”

Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon.

“Go ahead,” you urged.

He pressed the button.

Ring.

Ri—

“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”

“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.

“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”

“P—Penny?” He sputtered.

“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”

“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”

“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.

Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”

Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.

“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”

“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.

He gulped.

“I was going to ask you to be with me.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding.

“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”

“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"

"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.

"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.

He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.

“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.

Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.

A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!

Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh

Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #Bucky miscommunication #Bucky barnes miscommunication #jealous!Bucky #avenger!reader #bucky x avenger!reader

1K notes · View notes

zegrasdrysdale · 2 months

Note

Could you write some thigh riding smut with Ethan Edwards? Reader and Ethan are just friends when it happens so maybe they’re hanging out and it somehow leads to sex. Bonus points if there’s jealousy and dirty talk lol

[ that way ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : jealousy gets the best of Ethan's best friend when she comes into town to watch him play some hockey

warning(s) : smut ! spoilers for "my best friend's wedding" (1997 movie), jealousy, dirty talk, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, p in v penetrative sex, protected sex

author’s note : you asked, i rewrote multiple times bc i wasn't happy w it, it deleted itself once, then i delivered (i hope). enjoy <3

༺═──────────────═༻

The puck finds the back of the net. The lamp lights up and the horn goes off. Everyone that’s wearing a yellow and blue jersey in Yost Arena is on their feet immediately. (Y/N) celebrates with the crowd in her borrowed jersey. She smiles and cheers while all the Michigan boys come out onto the ice to celebrate their overtime win right in front of her.

Ethan looks up into the stands right at his best friend. He points at her with a smile on his face even though she’s about six rows off the glass. She waves at him before he goes back to celebrating with his team. He gives helmet taps and he gets helmet taps.

He looks good in full gear on the ice. She may have to come to Michigan more often to come watch him play. It's very rare that she gets to come out to watch Ethan play for Michigan. It's not like she hasn’t been watching him play their entire lives. Even when she wasn’t allowed to go out and watch him play.

One time when she was grounded at 13, she snuck out of the house to go watch him play despite knowing both of Ethan’s parents were at the game. They didn’t snitch on her though. She was thankful because she got to watch him score two goals and get an assist on the game winner. She's been like a daughter to them since she and Ethan met in preschool.

Slowly, the players make their way off the ice and she finds her way to the hallway with the door that leads to the locker rooms. She leans against the wall outside the door because she doesn’t want to see something that would scar her for life.

She shoots Ethan a text so he knows she’s waiting for him. He doesn’t respond so she assumes he’s either talking to his coach or taking his postgame shower.

To keep busy, she scrolls through her social media and likes a few posts. She tweets pictures of Ethan on the ice when he was warming up and when he scored a goal in the second period. They quickly begin to circulate on Twitter and Instagram.

The door opens and some of Ethan’s teammates begin to start walking out with their wet hair and casual clothes on. Some of them say hi and that it's nice to see her as they walk past. Rutger tells her that Ethan is coming out “soon”. Soon for Ethan Edwards is either five minutes or a half an hour.

“Soon” this time means ten minutes. Ethan comes out in a button up, his letter jacket, nice dress pants, and a Michigan beanie. “Hey,” he says. “Glad you could make it. Sorry I didn’t get to see you before the game started.”

She smiles and gives him a side hug. One of his arms drapes over her shoulders and her arm wraps around his waist. “I’m here for a few days so you can make it up to me,” she tells him. “What do you think of the jersey? Stole it from your closet after Seamus let me into the house.”

Ethan backs away and looks at (Y/N) in his jersey. She turns in a slow circle so he can get a good look at her in the jersey. “Looks better on you than it does on me,” he admits. “Good to know that you still rock my name and number on your back.”

(Y/N) laughs but she wishes she could rock his name in another way. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” she asks. “Just hang out? Watch a movie? Show me around Ann Arbor?”

Before he can respond, a girl comes running up from behind Ethan and jumps on his back. She wraps herself around him. “That was a sexy goal you scored tonight, Eddy,” she says into his ear. “Looked good doing it too.”

Ethan smiles and turns his head to look at the girl in the Michigan hockey hoodie. “You think so?”

“Know so,” she giggles. “You’re so hot when you put the puck in the back of the net.” The girl begins pressing kisses against his jaw. He laughs and (Y/N) bites her bottom lip so she doesn’t say anything. It takes everything not to say some snarky comment.

She knows girls constantly throw themselves at him. Ethan isn't afraid to call her after one of his one night stands. He is one of the most attractive guys she knows, he’s super smart, and one of the most talented hockey players that she's ever seen play. He knows it too and doesn't shy away from the attention.

It isn’t a secret that girls on this campus want to hook up with him or be with him.

What is a secret is her feelings for her best friend. She is no better than the girls that throw themselves at Ethan. If she could then she would, but they’re friends and that would be crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. There's no going back if that line gets crossed.

And she's terrified of crossing that line. It doesn't mean she doesn't get jealous of other girls that tell Ethan how sexy he is and how good he looks when he scores goals without crossing that line. She wishes she could be one of those girls that gets to throw herself at him.

"You and your teammates should come to the party that happening at the house tonight," she suggests. "I think it would be super fun to hang out with the hockey team. To hang out with you. You can even bring your little friend here. She looks like she could use a good party." The girl looks her up and down in Ethan's jersey.

That last comment really pisses her off though. She completely loses her filter, and she's not even sorry.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" she asks, eyes boring into the girl on Ethan's back. "You can hop right off my boy's back now and find someone else to fuck tonight because I promise you that he isn't interested in fucking you. Bye bye." She waves goodbye to put some emphasis on her words.

The girl lowers herself back to the ground with a roll of her eyes. Ethan looks between the nameless girl and (Y/N) as the nameless girl shoulder tackles her. She resists every urge to punch this girl in the face despite the pain in her shoulder as she walks away.

She looks back at Ethan when the nameless girl leaves the arena. She follows her outside so they can go home after a minute. He blinks at her when they get in his car before he says, "I don't think I have ever seen you get like that."

"Like what?"

"So possessive," Ethan tells her as he starts his car. He pulls out of the parking spot and heads toward the house he lives in with Dylan, Tyler, and Luca. "Almost like you were jealous of her."

Her head snaps in his direction to look at him. "I wasn't jealous of her," she lies. "I was protecting you. The amount of calls I've gotten at two in the morning because you're upset that another girl left you in your bed is a little ridiculous."

"You're not wrong about that," he comments. "I guess it is ridiculous."

Every time Ethan's girl of the night leaves him after a party or bringing a girl back after a game, he calls his best friend and she gets to hear all about the sex or how he thought she was the one that wasn't going to leave him.

She's gotten very tired of it so she's taking a stand for him.

"So, you never told me what the plan was for the night since it's my first night in Ann Arbor," she says as Ethan turns out of the parking lot. "We could go to that party she was talking about if you want, or I'm perfectly okay with staying in tonight since you have another game tomorrow."

Ethan glances at her as she drives. "Is there something you'd like to do?" he asks. "You're here for a week so I'm also okay if you don't want to go out tonight. There will be parties during the week we can go to if you're okay with snacks and a movie or two. I'm pretty sure my roommates are going out tonight anyway so we'll have the house to ourselves to catch up."

Ideas flow through her head. She wants to do a lot in the next seven days that she's in Michigan before she heads back to Alberta.

Tonight though, she just wants to spend time with Ethan without worrying about which girl is going to throw herself at him next.

"Movie night with snacks sounds really nice," she eventually tells him.

He smiles and makes a turn. "You can look through my Netflix when we get back to the house," he tell her. "I need to take a longer shower when we get back so while I'm in the bathroom, you can find a movie that we can watch."

She nods and scrolls through her phone while Ethan drives. It's not a long drive from Yost to the house he shares with three of his closest friends and teammates. It's maybe ten minutes before Ethan pulls into the driveway. There are no other cars in the driveway so he was right about them having the house to themselves tonight.

A very excited (Y/N) gets out of the car and Ethan is quick to follow her. She has an idea of what movie she wants to watch but she has to check to make sure it's on Netflix before she gets too excited about it.

Ethan disappears into the bathroom that's attached to his bedroom. She disappears into the kitchen to gather some snacks for them to eat while they have their movie night.

She makes some popcorn but also puts together a candy bowl filled with M&Ms, Reese's Cups, mini Twix, and Hershey Kisses. Sweet and savory choices for them. She even grabs two cans of soda that are in the fridge so they have something to drink.

When she walks into Ethan's room with the bowls of snacks and cans of soda, he is walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She has to look away before she stares at the water droplets rolling down his chest.

"Jesus, E," she gasps. She almost drops the snacks and drinks so she can cover her eyes. Ethan uses his hands to cover his crotch like she can see through the towel around his waist. "You couldn't have brought clothes into the bathroom with you?"

"I did," Ethan replies. "I forgot underwear. I opened the door so see if you were in here and you weren't so I wrapped a towel around myself. You were in here when I came out to put on underwear."

She glances at Ethan as he pulls up the pair of boxers over his waist. His back is to her so she admires him from behind for a second. His thighs are insane and every single back muscle works as he dresses himself. He turns his head to look at her as soon as he's wearing a shirt again. She quickly looks at the snacks in her hands to act like she wasn't watching him get dressed.

"Warn a girl before you walk into a room with nothing but a towel on, Ethan," she tells him as she sets the bowls and cans down on the table next to his bed. She crawls onto the mattress and grabs the TV remote.

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before," he says.

"It has been literally like fifteen years since I saw you naked," she retorts. "It's your fault we were even in that situation because you decided to cover both of us in mud. Your mother decided that it would be funny to bathe us together."

Ethan laughs and crawls onto his bed next to her. "My bad," he says. "Anyway. Did you find a movie to watch or are we winging it?"

She loads his Netflix account and replies, "I think I know what I want to watch but I have to make sure it's still on here. If it's not then we'll wing it."

"Okay," he slowly says. "What movie?"

As soon as he asks, My Best Friend's Wedding pops up when she goes into the romance movies section. Ethan raises his eyebrows and looks over at her when she clicks it. "Seriously?"

"What?" she asks. "It's a romcom. I know you don't watch many of those so I thought we could watch one of my favorite ones." Ethan frowns. "Come on, E. You'll love it. I promise."

He sighs as the movie begins to play. “If I hate it then we are going to watch Miracle or Mighty Ducks,” he tells her. Sounds like a plan to her so she nods in agreement.

She hands Ethan his soda and he cracks it open.

Picking My Best Friend's Wedding was kind of a hint in a way since Julia Roberts' character is in love with her best friend, who is marrying someone else. She didn't lie when she said it's one of her favorite romcoms though. She adores this movie and loves Julia Roberts.

He seems very into the movie though. Not once does he complain about how stupid it is. It's throwing her off a little bit.

Ethan reaches over her to grab one of the snack bowls around what she thinks is the halfway point of the movie. "I could've given it to you, asshole," she tells him. "You didn't have to reach over me when I'm trying to watch the movie."

"I just wanted some candy," he replies with a mouthful of chocolate. "I need to munch while watching the movie, (Y/N)."

She laughs and looks over at him as he stuffs a Reese's Cup in his mouth. She steals one of the Hershey Kisses out of the bowl and tosses it into her mouth. Ethan smiles and does the same. She shakes her head and goes back to watching the movie.

As she watches one of her favorite scenes toward the end of the movie, she's slightly on edge. She's very still the entire time. It's the scene where Julia Roberts' character Jules tells her best friend Michael, played by Dermot Mulroney, that she is in love with him and they share a kiss.

When she quickly glances beside her at Ethan, she finds him already looking at her. She quickly turns her head and looks away from him. Her cheeks begin to heat up like she’s embarrassed that he caught her looking at him.

He catches her chin and turns her head back so she’s looking at him again before she’s fulling facing the movie.

“Eth-”

“Please don’t say anything or else I won’t be able to do this,” he says to interrupt her.

She raises her eyebrows in confusion as Ethan’s thumb brushes over her bottom lip. His eyes flicker down to her lips before moving back up to her eyes. The eye contact they’re holding makes her entire body shake with excitement and anticipation.

Ethan doesn’t make any moves. His eyes float and study every part of her face, taking in every detail that he can see in the mostly dark room.

Very hesitantly, she throws a leg over one of his thighs and she straddles his leg. Ethan pushes her hair behind her ear and cups her jaw.

The entire time, they hold each other’s eyes. The tips of their noses touch every time Ethan moves in then backs away like he’s unsure.

“Do something,” she whispers, desperate. Her hands rest on his chest. “Ethan. Kiss me.”

He wastes no time.

Ethan sits up and wraps his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him. He crashes his lips to hers like he’s done holding back. She leans into him and deepens the kiss, pushing him back until he’s sitting up against the headboard.

The movie is soon forgotten about behind her. All she can hear is her own heart pounding in her ears. She no longer had any idea of what is going on behind her because she’s so focused on what’s in front of her.

She feels Ethan’s hands slither up the back of the jersey she’s still wearing. She never took it off and switched to a pair of black Lululemon shorts after she took off her leggings. A smile forms on Ethan’s lips when he realizes that she still has on his jersey.

Ethan’s fingers run up and down her back at the same time hers find their way under Ethan’s Michigan hockey t-shirt. She presses her fingers into his abs and sighs. All she has wanted to do since Ethan built up the muscles he has now is touch them.

Now she can.

“Take it off,” Ethan mumbles into a kiss as he pulls at the jersey. “I love seeing you in it but it needs to come off right now."

She reaches down between them and pulls the jersey over her head, breaking the kiss in the process. When she gets the jersey off, she sees Ethan’s eyes are on her body. She bites her bottom lip and grabs the bottom of Ethan’s shirt.

Might as well get it off now before they get distracted again.

Ethan gets the cue and sits up. She pulls the thin fabric off of him and tosses it to the floor with the jersey. Her eyes meet his and she finds a hunger in them that she's never seen before.

Friends definitely don't look at friends that way so something is changing between them. Goosebumps form on her exposed skin as she realizes that this could be the beginning of something new. Their whole relationship is changing with every second and every touch.

He cups her jaw with both his hands and runs his thumbs over her cheekbones.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this," Ethan softly confesses, looking between her eyes.

"I think I have an idea," she whispers as she leans in to connect their lips again.

Their lips make contact with each other and she presses her chest flush against his. In the process, she rolls her hips and grinds her clothed core on his thigh. She gasps at the pressure and Ethan's hands fly to her waist.

She tries it again and lets out a soft whine. She's surprised at how good it feels. Ethan smiles into the kiss as she begins to use his thigh to get off.

It makes sense to her that she would like this. She was just thinking about his thighs earlier when he was getting dressed.

The kiss breaks and she rests her forehead against Ethan's. Soft pants pass her swollen lips and Ethan smiles. "Gonna use my thigh to come?" he asks. "You gonna get off using my thigh, baby?"

"Mhm," she hums. "Feels good. Kind of in love with your thighs, E."

He laughs and helps her move her hips.

She can feel how muscular his thighs are through her shorts and his sweatpants. Just like she thought earlier - his thighs are insane.

A knot already forms in the pit of her belly. Her breathing has gotten very labored and she claws at Ethan's chest, definitely leaving behind some scratch marks he'll get teased for later by his teammates.

"Ethan," she breathes out. "Fuck."

He presses kisses to her jaw. "I got you," he tells her. "Go ahead. Come."

Almost like she was waiting for his permission, she comes with a cry. She ruins her panties and probably her shorts at the same time. Her fingers find Ethan's hair and she lightly grips his locks because she needs something to hold onto.

Ethan peppers her jaw and cheek with light kisses as she lays her head on his shoulder while she comes down from her high. He lightly brushes her hair out of her face and she hums a little "thank you".

"Feel better?" he asks. "Got it out of your system?"

She rolls her eyes and lifts her head as soon as she has enough strength to. "For now," she retorts. "Right now though, I need you to get inside of me because it's all I've been thinking about for years."

He smiles and quickly rolls them over so she's on her back. "Your wish is my command," he says as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her ruined shorts and panties. "Hope you don't need to walk in the morning."

Her eyes widen as he pulls off the shorts and panties in one go. She lifts her hips off the bed to help him out. She's completely exposed to him now since she went without a bra under the jersey. She crosses her arms over her chest.

Ethan is quick to grab her hands and uncover her body. "Don't hide from me, baby," he tells her. "You're beautiful. I've always thought you were beautiful. You never have to hide from me."

She nods and Ethan gets on his knees between her legs. She watches as he pushes off his boxers and sweats. His dick pops out of his boxers and she bites her bottom lip.

Yeah, she’s not going to be able to walk in the morning. It really is a good thing she doesn’t have to go anywhere.

He leans over and reaches into his bedside table. He had a tiny silver package between his fingers when he comes back to hover over her.

“I need to make sure you are absolutely okay with this,” he says. “You aren’t going to regret this or anything like that. I don’t want you to think that I’m pressuring you-”

“Ethan, if you don’t fuck me in the next two seconds, I am going to get up and go find someone who will,” she interrupts.

His eyes darken when he makes the comment about going to find someone that will fuck her. “Oh hell no,” he mumbles before he tears the condom package open with his teeth. She smiles as he slides the condom onto himself.

Her fingers find a home in Ethan’s hair when he leans over her. She holds his locks from falling into his face since he does have longer hair. He lines himself up with her and meets her eyes. “I trust you, E,” she tells him. “I have always trusted you.” I love you.

With her reassurance, Ethan slowly pushes into her. She gasps and bites her lip. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he breathes out. “So tight. God.”

Being tired of hearing him talk, she leans up and presses her lips to his. She wraps her arms around his neck as he bottoms out in her. Ethan presses his hands into the pillows on either side of her head so he doesn’t crush her.

She rolls her hips so she feels Ethan move inside of her. A soft sigh passes her lips into the kiss. Ethan leans into her and deepens the kiss. Her fingers drag down his back as he finally begins to roll his hips so he moves in and out of her.

The sound of soft whines and moans fill the room until the sound of the bed creaking follows when Ethan speeds up his movements. She breaks the kiss and arches her back off the bed and Ethan kisses her chest.

“Such a good girl for me,” Ethan pants. “Making these pretty noises. Does my cock feel good inside you, baby?”

“S’ good,” she breathes out. “Feels so good, E. You make me feel so good. Fuck.”

He smiles against her skin. He pushes one of her legs up and lets it hook around his arm, and he’s able to move even deeper inside of her. She cries out in pleasure and her head begins to spin.

It’s been years since she realized that she was in love with her best friend. He is all she has wanted since they went to prom together in their senior year of high school.

Even if he doesn’t love her, the fact that he is on top of her means that he has to feel something for her.

Right?

This is a welcomed change in their relationship. Going from friends to this is welcomed.

Her legs begin to shake as her second orgasm of the night starts to build in her belly. Ethan changes his pace every so often but continuously moves deep into her so he’s completely inside of her.

She’s pretty sure her breasts are marked up because of the way Ethan keeps nipping and sucking at the skin. It doesn’t bother her.

Getting marked by Ethan is never going to bother her.

Ethan pulls out then slams into her. “Holy fuck,” she cries out. “Shit, E.”

“Just wanna make my girl feel good,” Ethan pants.

He does it again and she clenches around him. She comes without warning and with Ethan’s name on her lips. Her entire body shakes and her vision goes white.

It’s probably the hardest she has ever come in her life. No one has made her feel as good as Ethan has.

It must be a minute before she comes to because he has a cloth in his hand and is cleaning her up. Her breathing is extremely labored and her entire body feels heavy. He tosses the cloth to the floor with their clothes and she looks at the TV.

‘Are you still watching’ lights up the screen and she can’t help but smile at the realization of what just happened.

Ethan pulls the blankets over their naked bodies and asks, “What’s with the smile?”

She looks up at him and says, “I really liked it. I liked being able to touch and kiss you.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you wouldn’t mind doing it again?” he questions.

“Absolutely not.”

A loud knock rings out throughout the room and Luca is on the other side as he says, “Walls are thin! I don’t feel like buying ear plugs so please keep it down! Also, it’s about damn time.”

She covers her mouth and laughs. Ethan rolls his eyes and gets comfortable. “I need to move out and get my own place.”

“I second that.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #umich fic #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards smut #zegrasdrysdale request

662 notes · View notes

august126 · 7 months

Text

The Shower of yearning (1/2)

Harry Potter x female reader

Summary: Harry Potter likes y/n, although he won't admit it. y/n likes Harry Potter, although she won't admit it. Hogwarts Castle is sick and tired of it - and decides the two need some help, forcing them to shower together again and again.

warnings:Hand Jobs,Shower Sex and Accidental Voyeurism

The first time it happened, it was mortifying.

Harry was standing in the shower, under the hot spray. y/n had been right - it was a privilege to be able to use the Prefects Bathroom as Gryffindor’s new Qudditch captain. And while he didn’t have time to have a bath every night he now favored nightly showers in the grand shower room for the boys. It was much better than sharing a bathroom with Seamus. He was coming to the end of his wash - soaping up his armpits, when all of a sudden there was a loud pop.

Standing in front of him was y/n. More important, standing in front of him was a very wet, very naked, and very soapy, y/n Since she had been in the middle of washing her hair - her eyes were closed and she did not immediately recognize their predicament. Instead Harry was treated to five glorious seconds of his friend’s nude body. His eyes devoured her. Running from her feet, up her legs toned by years of climbing staircases, to the tidy patch of hair that covered her sex, and then he looked up to her breasts. Her naked breasts. He watched a soap suds trickle down the curve of one, ending perched on a nipple.

y/n eyes opened and they stared at each other in mounting horror.

“Harry!?”

“y/n?”

Before Harry could even think to do anything chivalrous - or even cover up his rapidly hardening cock - y/n had squeaked like a mouse, threw one hand over her breasts and another in front of her sex, and ran from the shower. So stunned by it all, Harry didn't even think to turn and look at her ass as it scurried away.

He regretted it for the rest of the night.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The second time it happened, it was awkward.

Harry and y/n - both pink in the face throughout all of the next breakfast - had snuck away from Ron and Hermione to have a quiet conversation before class. They worked out that they had both been using the showers at the same time, y/n in the girls’ and Harry in the boys’, and they decided it must have just been some strange jinx. Another mystery of Hogwarts. They promised that it wouldn’t ruin their friendship or make things uncomfortable.

And for four nights they were right. Harry showered in peace and solitude - and while a part of him wished he could see y/n naked again he was glad not to endure that embarrassment again. Anyway, his dreams took care of his desires. He had woken up most nights now with a raging erection and a faint memory of a nude y/n. He tried to ignore it. She was his friend. Nothing more.

Still, his heart thundered in excitement when he heard that loud pop again. He knew what happened last time he heard that sound - and sure enough y/n was suddenly in the shower with him again. Except this time, she wasn’t washing her hair. She was washing her legs - bent at the waist as she soaped up her calves. Standing behind her, Harry was presented with the greatest view of his life. His eyes followed up her legs, over her thighs, to her plump, round bottom presented to him like a five course meal. He devoured the view - each soapy, wet asscheek there to be squeezed and kneaded.

“Oh Merlin” he babbled.

y/n stopped washing her legs. She went very still and then realizing her position she quickly stood up. She did not turn around however - instead standing facing the wall, letting Harry bathe in the view of her delectable rump. “Harry?” she whispered with uncertainty.

“Yeah. It's me” Harry said. He begged every power in the universe that y/n didn’t turn around. Partly because he wanted to continue to stare at her ass. Partly because his cock was so hard now it could cut stone.

They stood together in silence for a while - only the sound of the shower covering their breathing. Harry’s cock twitched as he watched a droplet of water run down the curve of her back and dipped between her cheeks, vanishing out of sight. Then y/n finally said, “could you leave this time? I still haven’t finished washing. If that’s ok?”

Harry gulped. “Sure” he said, backing out of the shower, not letting his eyes leave her ass until they had to.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The third time it happened, it was explosive.

Harry and y/n had again managed to find an excuse to leave Ron and Hermione at breakfast the following day and had a hurried conversation in an abandoned classroom. They worked out that it only seemed to happen when they were showering at the same time - and so the obvious answer to their problem was to make sure their schedules never aligned. Harry felt a stab of disappointment as they agreed, but he supposed it was for the best.

For a week then - Harry enjoyed his showers in peace and quiet. Enjoy being the right word because whenever Harry was alone under the water, his hand always dropped to his cock, stroking himself, jerking his shaft until he spilled his cum against the wall. He only ever thought about one thing. Her breast,.Her bottom. Her legs. Her back. Her wet hair and face. The visions came to him as he pumped himself, always concluding with a grunt of relief.

On Monday night then he had quickly washed - ready to engage in his new past-time - when the loud pop filled the shower again. He stumbled back, caught by surprise. There was y/n in front of him again. She was naked again. Her body glistened with the water again. Her face was already pink and her breasts were already heaving as she breathed heavily - as if she was trying to control herself after a long run. “Oh sorry!” she squeaked. “I thought you were finished!”

Harry had no reply at first. He found it hard to think of anything but the word “tits” that was currently doing laps around his brain. He wanted to squeeze them. He wanted to kiss them. It was only when he realized with mounting horror that he was now hard - fully erect, aching for relief - in front of one of his best friend did he finally return to earth. “Ok” he said. Trying to remember how English worked. “I wasn’t done.”

“What did you have left to do?”

It wasn’t the question Harry expected y/n to ask. Did she think that they should simply both finish their showers and pretend this was normal? More to the point, it wasn’t a question Harry wanted to answer - since there was no polite way to say “all I have left to do is jerk myself off to the memory of your naked ass.” Still he found himself looking down at his cock - still hard, still pointing directly at y/n. She followed his gaze and let out a little squeak. “Oh. Ok. Here, I have some soap.”

It was at this point Harry was certain this was a dream. It had to be a dream. It couldn’t not be a dream. Because y/n had just reached forward with a soapy hand and wrapped her fingers around his penis. He grunted. It didn’t make any sense. He had touched his own cock a million times before and somehow it never came anywhere near as good as y/n soft, dainty fingers pressed against his flesh. For a moment she simply held him, cock in hand, her eyes looking up at him. And then she started to move. As if this was normal. As if it was perfectly innocent for her to wash his shaft clean. Her arm gently pumped - her breasts bouncing with the movement - as she started to stroke his cock, lathering him up. Harry lasted for all of about ten delirious, delicious and delectable strokes until with a shuddering groan, he came. His seed splattered against her naked thigh.

“Finished?” Asked y/n breathlessly.

Harry nodded and took that as his sign to leave.

#harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #—✧ · . fandom: harry potter #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfic #female reader #hogwarts #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter x y/n #x reader #harry potter fic #smut

1K notes · View notes

flxrartsstuff · 3 months

Text

Shower Dance

TojixfemReader!

Authors Note: After a heated night and wild lovemaking, Toji enjoys a hot shower in your bathroom. He actually thought you were still asleep and didn't realize that you had snuck into the bathroom...

cw: unprotected sex, from behind, blow job, fingering, eating out, dirty talk à la Toji, masturbating, reader is a business woman in her late twenties,

Art by yunonoai_

His bare feet made soft noises as the tall, broad man crept into the bathroom after leaving you asleep in bed. He grinned a little because you were so tired and exhausted, even though you had kept him on his toes last night. A true goddess in bed. When he closed the door behind him, he found himself in your impressive bathroom, which was just further proof of your success as CEO. It was very neat and clean. A large mirror hung on the entire left wall, reflecting his broad, naked physique. He saw the scratches on his back, the marks from last night. You had clawed your nails into his skin like a cat and it had only made him crazier for you. As long as you were both having fun, everything was fine.

Toji went to the - yes, that's right - fancy rain shower and turned on the water. He let the hot water pour down on his body and sighed long and loud. Soft, pleasurable curses left his lips, making it abundantly clear how much he was enjoying it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back to completely switch off and relax for a few seconds. The steady splashing of the shower could now be heard in the bathroom and the humidity and heat rose throughout the room.

He let the water move down his body, the drops finding their way over the ridges of his muscles, playing around his nipples. All the places you had touched last night, not least with your tongue and mouth. Just the thought of it made his cock twitch. Tired, he opened his eyes again and looked around in the shower for your shampoo. He dripped some onto his hands and rubbed it into his body. The scent filled his nose seductively, as if you were next to him. He could literally feel it, feel your hands on his skin, his chest and stomach, all the way to his cock. He put his own hand on it and began to rub it, imagining it was your hand and, last but not least, your delicious, naughty mouth.

»Fuck.«

He cursed blatantly, loudly, and looked at his length. Of course, his hands would never be enough to satisfy him the way you could. But he could imagine, could instantly recall the image of your lips and become aroused at the idea. As he leaned against the tiles, his hips thrust against his hand as if automatically. Precum already covering the tip of his cock. It was as if he could hear you moaning, feel you sucking, which made he thrust ever harder and more impatiently. Everything mixed with the heat in the shower. All he wanted was to come here, in your shower. It was like he needed to get to know every part of you and feel every part of you, not just physically. His cock was hard and throbbing with pleasure, agonizing. He cursed and moaned louder, moaning your name and letting it all out without restraint. He didn't care if he woke you up. He would have loved to drag you into the shower so that you could put an end to his agonizing lust. But was that ever possible? No, he could never get enough of you.

Finally, he came in his hand as he imagined your eyes in front of him, looking up at him as you sucked on his cock. A dark growl left his mouth, but his chest was still heaving rapidly. Toji hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he was surprised. You were standing in the bathroom, silently, just looking at him. His eyes wandered shamelessly over your exposed curves as he took seconds to come down from his climax. His cock still hard.

»Do you need help?« you teased him with a grin and climbed into the shower without hesitation. The water hit your body, slid down to your breasts and immediately made your nipples harden. He looked at you like a lion that wanted to devour you. And you savored every single moment of it. His greed, which was literally written all over his face. You didn't mind that he simply used your shower. Because you wanted to do it here with him too. Last night had definitely not been enough. When he tried to grab your face and pull you into a hot kiss, you were already on your knees. You knew exactly what he wanted, you literally had him in the palm of your hand. He was your bodyguard and responsible for your protection. Protection that you definitely needed as CEO of your company, but which had always been a nuisance to you before. Until now. Toji was very different. Different from all the bodyguards you'd had before. And you loved playing these games with him.

»Yes, doll.« He gently grabbed the back of your head, buried his hand in your hair and watched you take his cock in your hand. »Do your bodyguard the favor, baby and suck off this cock.« His voice was almost a growl, so dark and aroused. It was clear to hear how much he needed you. You just giggled and kissed his tip, licking his length with your tongue and finally taking it in your mouth. He hissed through clenched teeth as he felt the warmth of your mouth around his cock and threw his head back on his neck again. The grip on the back of your head tightened, he pressed you harder against his erection and had to restrain himself from ramming his hips into your mouth.

»Fuck, yes just like that...« he praised you in a dark voice and looked down at you. Where your head kept bumping against his erection, taking him deeper into your mouth each time. Soon the dam broke loose inside him and he just couldn't hold back. It would have been too easy. Toji's hips began to move hard against your mouth, thrusting his cock violently into you. Faster and faster, you gasped in surprise and arousal at the same time, giving yourself over to his thrusts and wild ways. You whimpered against his length, but every noise you made only fueled him even more. He sank completely into ecstasy and wanted more and more from you. You were perfect, just everything about you. Your mouth enveloped his shaft like no other woman had ever done before. And you loved looking up at him from below, watching his whole face as he drove himself to climax.

When he came, all of his semen shot down your throat. He groaned relieved as you took in every last drop of it.

»Such a good girl…« His words were music to your ears, because you loved it when he talked to you like that and took control. You wanted to let him drive you. He rubbed himself over his length a few more times, pulled you back to your feet and pressed you against the cool tiled wall. »Let me give it back to you..«

He kissed you urgently and hungrily, letting his lips and hands wander down your body. But you quickly realized that he wanted more and where he wanted to go. He caressed your body, pampering every part to clearly show you how crazy you were driving him. You sighed softly and spread your legs a little, which was an invitation for him to force them apart. Panting, you held on to his shoulders and relished the moment when his lips finally found their way between your legs. He kissed your pussy, sucked on it and let his tongue dance over the sensitive skin. He sucked on you like he was eating the most delicious meal.

»Oh my god, oh…ngnnh!! Fuck, Toji…« You couldn't manage any more proper sentences, clutched your hand in his hair and pressed his head more firmly against your middle. Just like you wanted to. You bit your lips, closed your eyes in pleasure and savored the water splashing on your face. His tongue drove you further and further towards orgasm, you could feel it and he could also clearly see how your pussy tightened.

»You’re Close, huh?« he teased you grinning. You could only nod. His tongue disappeared and the next thing you knew, his fingers were pressing against your clit. But before you could really experience the orgasm and enjoy it, he came back up and turned you around, pressing your breasts against the cool tiles.

»Let me take you from behind, will ya? And touch yourself baby…« he growled into your ear, licking your sensitive skin and grinning at your reaction. That was all you wanted, even if you wanted revenge for how much he had made you squirm. You stuck your butt out at him, touched his cock and immediately shuddered through your whole body. His hands gripped your hips and ass as he thrust his cock into your pussy from behind. Slowly and provocatively.

»Toji…« you began impatiently, »I‘m your boss. So fuck me already. This is an order.« You turned your head and gave him a playful look. He bit his lip, his hands digging deeper into your skin. Your words seemed to have triggered something new in him. You were bossing him around, letting out a more dominant nature that had been simmering inside you for a long time. And it only turned him on even more. As if his fire wasn't already strong enough, it was now even stronger.

»Yes, ma‘am.« he grinned mischievously and thrust into you without warning. »You like that?«

You hissed the air out of your mouth, rolling your eyes in excitement. »More.« you only ordered. He did as you asked, quickening his pace and thrusting into you harder, unchecked. Skin slapped against skin, mixing with the water from the shower and your arousal. Your mouth was open, only gasping sounds came out as your naked body was pressed against the tiles and you moved your fingers on your clit. Panting, you urged him not to stop. You whimpered and moaned louder and louder, hearing him growl as you felt your pussy tighten around his cock. His tip hit your G-spot, hard and unerringly. Every single hit made you groan in delight. Your voice echoed in the bathroom, which had been completely enveloped in steam. Your face was red from the heat, not just the water. Each thrust into you drove you close to your long-awaited orgasm.

You turned your head in his direction, wanting to see him when you came. His black strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes half closed and his mouth open, he looked just scrumptious. His arms and broad chest were taut, just like his cock felt inside you. Hard and pulsating, ready to spread his sperm inside you at any moment.

»You’re cuming?« you asked him out of breath this time. How much the situation had changed! He looked at you, his eyes dark and full of lust and hunger for you. You loved seeing him like this, just before his climax. When you then moved in his direction in his rhythm, it burst out of him. His hands literally clawed into your flesh, his thrusts became uncontrollable and he let out a loud moan as the orgasm hit him. He let go of everything, thrusting into you and no longer holding back. He leaned forward, pushed your hand away from your clit and rubbed his fingers over your irritated center. As he released his orgasm inside you, it didn't take long for him to drive you to yours.

»Cum for me, baby.« he bit your shoulder while you whimpered and almost shrieked against his fingers.

»Yes, oh fuckkkk…« Your pussy contracted more violently, you threw your head back and moaned to the ceiling as your pelvis thrust uncontrollably and trembling against his fingers. His cock was still buried deep inside you as he drove you to climax with his fingers. Even the water from the shower couldn't really wash away how your bodies were connected to your most intimate fluids. You laughed with relief, tears and water mingling on your face. You had never felt so satisfied but you knew you still wanted more.

»How else can I serve you…boss?« His voice in your ears was a dark growl. He kissed your shoulder, thrusting into you a few more times before sliding his cock from you and turning you around…

#smut #jjk smut #toji x y/n #toji x you smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro

735 notes · View notes

azsazz · 3 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 21)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,850

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

You haven’t spoken to Azriel since the morning you woke up in his bed alone.

Which, granted, has only been one day.

You’d spent the rest of your Sunday confused, rerunning the previous night over and over and over again until your head hurt with it. You thought that you and Azriel had started anew, if the passionate sex you’d shared the night before was anything to go by. But when you woke, the sheets beside you hadn’t even been warm and the note he’d left you seemed scrawled in haste, like he’d barely had the courtesy to do so on his way out the door.

Something important came up, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Please don’t be mad, princess. I’m coming back to you. —Az

He’d left his number but you’d left the comfort of his bed, slipping back into your dress and collecting your things before doing the ultimate walk of shame next door. Really, it’s much worse than the last time you’d snuck out of his apartment. You’d been hungover then, caring mostly about not throwing up in the hall or waking Azriel, but by the silence of the apartment as you made your way out, there was no need for you to be quiet.

It left you only with the aching between your thighs and the mottled bruises painting your skin purple.

That night was better than a dream. You would’ve never thought that you and Azriel could work past the lingering feud you’d started the year with, and you hadn’t realized how draining your constant grudge had been. It turns out that getting over yourself and under him had been the best thing that could’ve happened for your relationship.

His touch burns your skin long after you’ve showered him off. You can still feel him between your legs, fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he held you still for his taking. The feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing yours, everything that he’d done to you last night, clinging to your very being as if he’d tattooed himself across every inch of your skin.

Maybe you should’ve listened to his note. You could have easily stayed in his bed all day, with how comfortable it is, but as the minutes trickled by, the paranoia set in, eating at you until you’d had to flee.

Feyre hadn’t asked any questions when you slipped into her room after your shower. She’d welcomed you with open arms, a sad look in her eyes as if she knew exactly what happened. And maybe she did; maybe she heard you like you heard her, but you hadn’t cared, only snuggled up to your best friend's side as she put a movie on her laptop for the both of you to watch.

She knew you would tell her in good time.

It hadn’t stopped Azriel from blowing up your phone. He must’ve stolen your number from Rhsyand or Cassian, or perhaps he even told them what happened because message after message after message lit up your notifications, pleading for you to answer your phone like an incessant alarm.

Princess…it’s Az. Where did you go?

Do you want some waffles? There might still be some ice cream left before Cassian finishes it all, but with the spoon he’s found, it won’t last long.

Can I please explain?

And finally:

I can hear your phone buzzing through the wall. Please answer me.

You hadn’t replied to those, nor any of the ones that followed. You half expected him to come knocking at your door, but Feyre had noticed your poor mood and told Rhys that the two of you were having a girl’s day and not to bother either of you.

You could’ve both kissed and been upset with her for that.

You wanted that explanation from Azriel, but you also wanted him to fight for it. Let him come knocking, let him ask you in person to explain. Who finally gets the girl and leaves her to wake up alone? Especially after all of the things Azriel had admitted to you…

Monday morning is much the same. You’d successfully avoided seeing Azriel on your way to campus, and as much as you tried focusing on your drawing course, none of the shapes you were drawing turned into anything great.

You’d expected it to be bliss, to get your mind off of every little nitpicky thing you keep thinking about from that night. Feyre and Lucien’s presence helped some, but when the class quieted down for a drawing exercise and you were left alone with your thoughts once again, they naturally drifted back to yesterday morning. Maybe you had misread Azriel’s intentions and he was only looking for a one night stand. You did make the first move, afterall.

It was all a jumbled mess in your head that could only make sense if Azriel explained it. And now you’re once again thinking that you should have stayed…or at least texted him back.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Lucien asks, startling you from your thoughts. The tip of your charcoal cracks against your drawing pad and you frown, staring at the black chalky marks on your fingers. You frown, shoving the immediate thought of Azriel from your head and tilt your head up to meet Lucien’s concerned gaze.

You offer him a forced smile. “Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out a bit. I’m fine.” You hadn’t realized that class ended and everyone is packing up their things. Feyre’s over by the drawers, stowing her pad in the one you share. Lucien doesn’t look like he believes you, but he stays silent while you hastily pack your supplies away, grimacing at the drawing you’d been working on.

You don’t check your phone. You’d already woken up to multiple messages from Azriel this morning, asking to walk you to class and explain. Luckily, you hadn’t run into him on your way out the door, tearing down the staircase with a confused Feyre trying to keep up.

Lucien and Feyre are talking about where you should all head to lunch when the three of you leave the building. Alis had announced another assignment, and the premise already hangs heavy on your shoulders. The instructions were left loose enough that you have once again no idea what you’re going to draw for it. It’s infuriating, how everyone else just seems to know immediately what they’re wanting to create when it takes you weeks to figure it out, and then when you do, you’re changing your mind again and again, worried that nothing is good enough.

You run smack into Lucien’s back while you’re lost in your thoughts. Your friends are three steps out the door and your nose stings from where you’d hit it against your friend. Lucien hardly even seems to notice, his mouth set in a straight line and he and Feyre stare directly ahead.

At Azriel, who’s leaning up against the railing. He looks so nervous it’s almost as if he doesn’t even go to this school; doesn’t walk into the same buildings or around the same campus. His thumb is tucked into the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, and the other is stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket. His black hair is tousled but not from the wind, from the amount of times he’s nervously run his fingers through it.

You watch his golden eyes flick over Feyre and Lucien, darkening as they rove over your copper haired friend while you step out from behind him. He instantly finds your gaze and they soften, and then he’s pushing off from the railing and making his way towards you. Your face heats because this is the last place you thought Azriel would corner you. In public.

“Hey, Azriel,” Feyre greets, glancing over at you. You shake your head softly but keep your gaze pinned to Azriel who strides closer like he no longer has a care in the world. It’s a front and you know it.

Azriel nods politely, but he doesn’t break your stare. “(Y/N), can we talk for a minute?”

You feel Feyre’s confused blue eyes burning into your skin. The way that she slides her phone from her pocket like she’s trying not to make any sudden movements is not missed by you nor Azriel, but neither of you seem to care that she’s seconds away from messaging Rhys about this. You wonder if he knows, if Azriel had admitted anything to his roommates about you, about the night you shared together.

Lucien is tense, shoulders coiled tight. He’s almost glaring at Azriel but it doesn’t faze the onyx haired boy in the least, like he’s a speck of dust on his shoulder. Nothing can deter Azriel, of this you know. Somehow, he’s just as stubborn as you are, and the soft look in his eyes, pleading with you, makes your stomach twist.

“Sure,” you find yourself agreeing. You turn to your friend so you don’t have to witness the relief on his face. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. And I’ll see you in Art History, Fey.”

“You better,” your best friend mutters, already tapping away at her phone. She drags Lucien by the sleeve because he doesn’t seem inclined to leave you alone with Azriel despite you agreeing to speak with him. Azriel looks like he’s going to bare his teeth at the boy. “Come on, Luc.”

You start down the stairs of the building, going the opposite direction from your friends. You can feel Lucein’s sun and moon eyes on you as you walk, but you don’t turn around to look.

Azriel catches up to you in two great strides. You don’t know where you’re going, fine with waltzing around campus while you talk. You might need to text Feyre to bring you something to eat during class, because you’re getting hungry for lunch.

“I don’t like him,” Azriel mutters, and you can tell by the tight grip he has on the straps of his backpack.

“I don’t think you like anyone,” you respond, not unkindly, but it’s not a friendly remark either. It’s strange almost, to be seen with him in public not only after your public feud, but the night you’d spent together as well. It feels like a dirty little secret has come to light, and you don’t like it.

Azriel glances at you sidelong, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “I like you.”

You snort because he doesn’t even know you, not really. “You didn’t even like me two days ago, Azriel,” you start but he’s already shaking his head in disagreement, denying your accusations. “And with the way you up and left me in your room, I’m thinking there’s still a possibility that you don’t even like me now.”

He stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow, turning you to face him. You stumble at the suddenness of the move and it puts you a step closer to him than you’d like. His grip on your arm isn’t firm or demanding, it’s a soft caress that matches the pleading look in his honeyed eyes.

“Please,” he murmurs, and you can see just how much your avoidance has been bothering him. His fingers tremble along your arms and when you look down at them he pulls away, nervously tucking them into the pocket of his hoodie. It makes something in your chest crack a little. “I can explain.”

“Explain, then,” you answer simply.

Azriel shifts on his feet, glancing around. There are students milling about and you should probably keep walking or at least move out of the way, lest the both of you get mowed down by someone late to class or a biker. “Here?”

You quirk a brow.

He sighs a little, exasperated. “Can I take you somewhere? How about lunch?”

You study him. It’s clear that he wants to explain to you, and he looks just as stressed out about the situation as you are. And you really do want to hear what he has to say for himself, if his reason for leaving you is forgivable…

“Fine,” you relent, and his shoulders drop a notch. “But I have class this afternoon and I can’t be late.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is the kind of place that you walk past and don’t go in.

The outside is a smidge better than decrepit, with its peeling paint and uneven sidewalk. There’s graffiti on the side of the building, tags you can hardly ready with how curvy and obnoxious the letters look. One of the windows has a shade, but it’s hanging by a thread and looks more like a hazard than not, and the rest of the windows are bare, sunlight pouring into the yellowing casement. You wouldn’t even know the place is open with its rusted neon sign so broken and sad.

But Azriel guides you in through the door with a hand on the small of your back and you blame the shiver that travels up your spine on the blast of cold air that hits you in the face when you step over the threshold.

Maybe you’ve been a little harsh on its exterior appearance because the inside is tidy. The air smells like greasy burgers and crunchy fries, and there’s a shiny jukebox in the corner playing an oldies song you think you’ve heard at one of Cassian’s parties once. Well, you heard it through the wall when the entirety of said party belted it at the top of their lungs and not even your headphones could block out the noise.

There’s an older man sitting at the counter and a girl who looks to be about your age behind the counter. She’s smacking her gum and doodling on her order pad, a half abandoned milkshake melting in the red cup beside her. She doesn’t even look up when Azriel leads you towards a booth, and you slide in opposite him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, nervousness flicking through his eyes. He hesitates to sit down, awaiting your response.

“Nothing,” you assure him with a soft smile you don’t feel is genuine. “I didn’t even know this place was here, really.”

Azriel all but slumps onto the electric blue seat, eyes sparkling with delight. Your heart rate picks up at the sight of the little grin he offers you. It’s nice to see this side of him, happy and relaxed, in his element.

You wonder how he looks when he’s concentrated on a drawing, or a tattoo.

He’s got them covered up with his leather jacket today, though the tips of those coiling shadows around his collar bones peek out from the neckline of his black t-shirt and you think about how much you were coiled around each other the other night, skin to skin.

Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you look down at your lap.

“It’s great,” Azriel explains, slipping out of his jacket. You wish you had paid more attention to the artwork marking his skin the night you spent together but there hadn’t been much time to with the way you were all over each other, and he wasn’t around when you woke up. “Been coming here since freshman year.”

You’re about to respond when the waitress you’d seen arrives, slapping two menu’s down on the funky patterned table. You startle with the motion and shift uncomfortably when Azriel all but glares at the girl. She doesn’t seem to care though, flipping her stark white hair over her shoulder with a sneer.

Her brown eyes flit over you like you’re a piece of her chewed gum stuck under the table, then leans her hip against the edge of the table, flipping her order pad open. “I already know what you want,” he says haughtily to Azriel, and then those piercing brown eyes are on you, pinning you to your seat like it’s a trap from Saw. “What will you be having?”

“I, um, I’m not sure yet,” you stutter awkwardly, because you’re confused. Who is this and why is Azriel acting like this is normal? “I need to look at the menu.”

She rolls her eyes and the silence that ensues makes your face grow hot, sweat bead at your hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest, popping a bubble with her gum, and it’s as if she’s waiting for you to look at the menu and decide right now. You send a pleading look to Azriel whose jaw is ticking with annoyance.

“Give us a minute, will you, Cresseida? And let Rita know I’m here. Thanks.”

With another eye roll and an annoyed “Whatever,” Cresseida all but stomps away from your table. Your eyes trail her until she’s around the counter and pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“She seems…lovely,” you mutter, fingering the corner of the menu where it’s bent. “Seems like the kind of place you would’ve taken me when we didn’t like each other,” you tack on, squinting at the small font. Why are there so many items on the menu?

“I’m sorry about her,” Azriel blurts, and you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen him blush. It’s unfairly adorable. He offers you a hand, face up, and you can’t resist that look in his eyes, how he’s offering you his scarred hand instead of hiding it. With a short huff, you place your palm on his and he immediately intertwines your fingers, holding tight. It makes you blush. “She’s always been cranky,” he peers over his shoulder like she might be standing right behind him. “I promise, Rita is much nicer.”

You give him a forced smile because honestly, you’re not sure what else to say to that. You’re not even sure you’re all that hungry anymore, with Cresseida’s off putting attitude and the nerves that are gnawing on your stomach from the talk you’re about to have with Azriel.

You busy yourself with looking at the menu. There are way too many options and not enough time to decide because a short, stocky woman is trapezing her way around the countertop and towards your table, her eyes glowing with joy.

“Azriel, what brings you back so soon? Oh—and who is this lovely lady?” Her eyes fall across your intertwined fingers and she fails to stifle the beaming grin that appears on her red lips. You can tell that she’s a gem by appearance alone, but also in the way that she looks at Azriel, like he’s the son she’s never had. You can’t help but to smile at her. Her round face is flush with a permanent blush and she looks like the kind of woman you’d love to hug.

“Rita, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Rita, the owner of Rita’s Diner.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you greet eagerly, trying to pull your hand away from Azriel’s to shake her hand. He doesn’t let go, and smirks at the glare you shoot his way.

“(Y/N) as in…” Rita trails off, flicking a glance at Azriel. You narrow your eyes at him, curious as to what he’s told her about you. She continues, “As in your girlfriend, Azriel?”

You almost splutter, cheeks going red hot at her insinuation.

Azriel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, admiring the color to your cheeks and the shock in your eyes. “Not yet.”

Not yet.

But maybe soon, when he finally explains himself.

Rita winks at him and you really want to bury your face in the menu right now.

“What can I get for you, darlin’?” Rita asks, her voice sweet as cherry pie.

“I don’t know, there are so many options…” you trail off, sending a pleading look towards Azriel. “Almost too many to choose from.”

Rita’s chest swells with pride and Azriel snickers.

“Cass prefers the pancakes,” he supplies, “But I think the waffles are better.”

“Pancakes, it is,” you beam, handing Rita back the menu. Azriel glares playfully and Rita seems positively overjoyed as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

Your smiles fade with Rita’s cheerful attitude and it’s all too soon that you’re aware you’re holding Azriel’s hand and he still hasn’t explained. You look at him and he’s already sighing. There are dark circles under his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, and you can tell that he hadn’t slept well last night either.

Azriel strokes a thumb across your knuckles and your tense shoulders ease a bit. The embarrassment you’d felt when you woken up alone in his bed has simmered with his eagerness to explain to you what happened that morning, but you’re still feeling a bit tender about it, especially when you see the pained look on Azriel’s face.

Whatever had happened hadn’t been good.

And you feel like a fool when he answers your question lingering between the both of you.

“The reason I wasn’t there that morning was because my father was in town. He came to see me.”

You try to swallow back the sudden rage boiling up from your stomach. The man who’d let his step-sons burn Azriel’s hands. The one who doesn’t want him to follow his dreams, his passions, when he clearly has the skill to do something amazing with them. The one who didn’t even visit him that night of the incident.

You squeeze his hand and Azriel seems to relax, understanding your forgiveness. Your throat is still tight when you respond, forcing the word out. “Okay…”

It gives him room to continue, even though Azriel looks like he’d rather face Cresseida’s wrath again.

“He found interest in purchasing and renovating our apartment building.”

You blink, not sure you’ve heard him correctly. “What?” You tack on, defensively. “Why?”

Azriel shrugs. To keep me in fucking check. He sighs as if the tremendous weight on his shoulders is two seconds away from crushing him completely. You don’t like that frown on his face and you don’t like his father.

“He thinks it’s a good investment opportunity, I guess.”

You don’t like the sound of this one bit, and Azriel agrees with you.

“And if he does buy it?”

Azriel shakes his head sadly, “No more neighbors.”

You didn’t think the thought of not being his next door neighbor would hit you so hard. Your chest aches with the idea of it, no longer sharing a wall. Even though you despised it at the beginning, you’ve gotten used to and even like the fact that you share a wall now.

Rita comes back and sets a plate of hot pancakes in front of you and a stack of blueberry waffles in front of Azriel. Everything smells delicious and your mouth waters at the sight of the thick pat of butter melting its way across the top of your breakfast.

She places a milkshake between you and Azriel, and there’s no missing the two neon colored straws sticking out of the top. You blush, thanking her.

She winks in response. “Enjoy, you two.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthrongirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#acotar #midnight muse #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au #artist!azriel

604 notes · View notes

after-witch · 2 months

Text

Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out.

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you.

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”?

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?”

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep.

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live?

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this.

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing.

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.”

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone. You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared.

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little.

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered.

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now.

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle you could write home, how would you even word the letter?

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item.

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended.

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…”

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat.

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you.

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness.

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it.

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them.

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light.

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page.

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted.

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined.

She didn’t act right away.

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning.

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind.

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you?

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!”

Before you knew it, you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away.

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it.

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords.

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t.

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor.

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent.

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears.

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing.

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist.

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead.

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now?

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand.

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways.

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table.

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said.

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.”

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out.

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home.

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms.

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments.

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain.

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage.

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you?

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down. “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–”

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side.

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.”

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.”

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?”

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here.

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you.

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now.

Freedom was confusing as hell.

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle.

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink.

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied.

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun.

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

#yandere #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #afterwitch writes #/pets prologue done! dunno how many chapters this one will end up being.

561 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 7 months

Text

♰ sweet serial killer — nakahara chuuya

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 4 - serial killer!chuuya

chuuya's always in such a rush to get home to you, so he can't really be blamed if he misses a few drops of blood on his clothes.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, murder, blowjob, obsession, soft chuuya, one use of slut, pet names, slight corruption kink — 2.3k

the bloodstains had never gone unnoticed by you, despite what chuuya had thought.

the deep smear of maroon was the first thing that caught your eye each time he came home, smeared on his white collars, on the sleeves of his crisp button-ups.

naively, or perhaps out of sheer desperation, you forced yourself to believe that they were merely from cuts on his hand, ones that he’d missed, wiping them only on his shirt on accident. chuuya, from time to time, could be accident prone. he’d hit his hip on the countertops, stub his toe and curse profusely after, constantly too rough on his body. it wouldn’t have been unusual if one of those silly errors had led to a more serious injury.

truly, there were a plethora of things that could have explained why drops of blood so frequently coated his clothing—just none that made sense to you.

the more you tried to rationalize it with yourself, the more outlandish your theories became. you couldn’t justify the blood running down the back of his shirt, not when you’d scrubbed his skin raw in the shower and found no cut. you couldn’t explain the dirt on his pants, the way that he’d spend half an hour in the bathroom every time he returned, turning the white porcelain of the shower a watery red.

chuuya snuck out late often, came back even later. every time he thought you were asleep, you’d pop one eye open, notice that the door was cracked, and watch as he scrubbed his clothes clean in the sink.

after, he’d slink into bed with you, curl around you with a heavy sigh, and kiss you deeply before passing out, as if nothing had changed at all.

for a while, you’d wondered if he was cheating on you—but it seemed so unlike chuuya, and there was no other evidence to point in that direction.

you had another theory, of course, but it seemed crazy—the musings of an overactive imagination. it was unfair to chuuya, too, who was the most loving person you’d ever met. maybe he stayed out late, disappeared to places you didn’t know about… but he was charming, caring, and he loved you, didn’t he?

but after nearly two months of enduring the routine, you decided not to let him off the hook any longer. if chuuya couldn’t be honest with you after a year of dating, moving in with one another, you weren’t sure he ever would be.

something about bringing it up to him, starting the conversation, was too frightening, and instead, you followed him one evening, when he snuck off on his bike, disappearing after midnight.

he stopped first at a bar, coming out only thirty minutes later with a pretty woman on his arm, smiling roguishly as he gestured towards his motorcycle. for a moment, you had almost thrown up in your car, tears hot in your eyes as you wondered if, maybe, your suspicions were right. maybe he was cheating on you, even when you’d believed chuuya to be utterly devoted to you.

maybe it had all just been a lie, an act he excelled at.

still, you held your shaky hands around the wheel, determined not to get ahead of yourself. there wasn’t proof—yet—of that insurrection. you wouldn’t judge him until you knew for certain.

if he had any idea that you were following him, he gave no indication of it.

chuuya took her to an abandoned dock, one that was crumbling with old ships and empty slots, the dark waves crashing against the shore under navy october skies. it was eerie, hauntingly so, the sign decrepit and wasting away, the perfect place to commit a murder and get away with it.

he snuck in past the locked gate easily in his motorcycle, but you were forced to park beyond it and trudge ahead on foot. you only hoped that your car wouldn’t get broken into—and that you wouldn’t be killed in the meantime.

in the midst of your search for chuuya, you heard a scream—it rang out through the port, loudly, echoing in the hollowness of the empty air. there was no one around but you, no one to save whatever soul had met their demise.

against the logic of every horror film you’d ever watched, you followed the noise, running towards it with heavy breaths in the cold air. the wind snuck down your throat, burning your lungs.

you found him at the edge of the dock.

the screaming stopped, cut off abruptly as chuuya landed another rough hit of his knife, blood spewing over his blade, into his face, down his neck. he brought the silver weapon down over and over again, sticking it into the woman’s side, her chest, the sound as steely as it was in the movies.

for a moment, you froze, unsure what do as you stared at your boyfriend, the one who smiled at you so sweetly. it was hard to reconcile him to this monster.

chuuya stood, straightened, and though your body was screaming at you to run, you could do nothing but stand and stare, breaths heavy at the sight of his familiar frame. if you ran, he’d only catch up to you. but if you didn’t…

“did you follow me?” chuuya turned, then, revealing only his side profile, so dark and glossy with red.

you hands shook at your sides. “i—” the sound was so weak that you couldn’t finish your sentence. “chuuya, i’m sorry,” you said in a panic, wondering if you dropped to your knees, begged him that you wouldn’t tell, then maybe he’d let you live.

he sighed and wiped his face, though the blood smeared worse in the process. it streaked over his chin, his jaw, as it dripped from the blade in his gloved hand. “‘it’s okay, doll. ‘m not gonna hurt you.” chuuya took a step forward, and though you couldn’t help it, you stepped back, shaking with fear. he stopped then, eyes softening at your fragility. “i promise.”

“chuuya,” you said again, helplessly. “what’s going on?”

he let the knife clatter onto the dock, his hands held high in surrender. with a sigh, his shoulders deflated. “you weren’t supposed to see me like this, baby.”

“you killed someone,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

he looked out towards the ocean, his tongue running over his teeth before his jaw clenched, tightly. “it’s just a little something i gotta take care of, okay? i’d never hurt you. i love you, remember?”

that seemed like the kind of stupid thing that only took place in books; a serial killer truly loving the woman that he kissed at night. but chuuya…

well, it seemed hard to believe that everything about him had been a lie.

“you’re scaring me,” you said, wiping your face. “i don’t—”

he was upon you in two strides, stripping the gloves that held someone else’s blood, seeping into the fabric. his cold hands cupped your face, and there he was: the man you adored, delicate fingers tracing your jaw, eyes full of adoration for you, and not an ounce of malice. “i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry,” he said, kissing your cheeks, your nose, pressing affection into every pore. “i wish i didn’t have to, but,” he kissed you hard, wrapping you up in his arms. “it’s just an itch i can’t stop scratching.”

you knew enough about serial killers to understand what he meant. “she was an innocent person,” you argued, though you were melting into chuuya’s arms, forgetting your fear, despite your sprinting heart.

“no, no,” chuuya countered, his hands lacing through your hair. “i worked with her. she’s been after me for weeks. slipping things into my drinks when she thinks i’m not looking.” he smiled, but something about it was dark, evil. “just like that man who followed you home three weeks ago. just like your ex-boyfriend who made you cry every day. or the man who tried to mug your best friend. they’re people who hurt others. they’re not innocent, are they?”

chuuya seemed genuinely curious, his head cocking to the side, and his fingers stilled, his lips red not from blood, but from his force of his kisses.

you let a shaky breath leave your lips. “you did all that?”

when he put it that way—was it such a bad thing? you had been relieved when your horrid ex-boyfriend had been found dead on the streets. perhaps the men who found it fun to prey on unsuspecting women deserved a gruesome death just like him.

maybe even the woman who had her sights set on your boyfriend shouldn’t get off any easier.

“if i must live with this sin,” chuuya said, a response to your silence, his eyebrows pulled together tightly, “it only makes sense i should do something good with it.”

“by killing the people that hurt me?”

“well,” he smiled softly, “what other purpose do i have to live for?”

the weight of chuuya’s devotion washed over you, and you remembered your previous thought, of needing to drop to your knees and beg chuuya for your life. now, though, he was staring at you so lovingly that you fell to your knees in a different way, brushing your hair out of your face.

chuuya watched as your fingers ran over the bulge in his pants delicately, a thirst starting in your stomach. you loved him. and if you ever doubted that fact, now you were certain.

“what are you doing, doll?” chuuya asked, breathlessly, watching as you undid his belt, slid the silver zipper down his tight black pants. “you just found out your boyfriend’s a serial killer, and you’re gonna suck him off… are you that much of a slut?”

you’re not sure why the mean name spurred you on further, sent need coursing through you as your mouth watered for chuuya.

“my boyfriend killed someone who was trying to take him from me,” you smiled sweetly, licking your lips. “who else can say the same?’

chuuya sucked in a breath as you freed him from the confines of his tightened pants, stroking your manicured hand down the length of him, the touch barely there. then, you wrapped your hand around him, your fingers tightening as you watched the flush start from his neck, the red that couldn’t hide, even beneath the smears of blood.

“you wanna watch next time?” he teased, wispy strands of hair falling over his eyes. “if a man ever bothers you, just tell me, sweetheart. i’ll kill him with you right by my side.”

you were ashamed by how much that turned you on, the pool of desire sinking in your stomach. already, you ached to get your lips on chuuya, and you stroked him eagerly, listening as his gasps grew faster.

quicker than anticipated, chuuya was hard, the tip sticky as sweat gathered at his hairline. his lips parted so beautifully when he stared down at you with darkened grey eyes.

“maybe i’ll kill them myself,” you said back in a sultry voice, knowing perfectly well that your fingers would tremble around the blade, that you couldn’t kill a man even if you wanted to. still, you liked pretending to be chuuya’s beautiful siren as your thumb grazed over his slit, just feet away from the woman he killed. “think i’d look pretty with blood on my face, chuuya?”

chuuya groaned as your hand sped faster, shiny and sticky as he leaked down your palm. “oh, you’re pretty all the time, but god, knowing you’re just as fucked up as me would drive me wild.”

you smiled, chuuya’s cock stiff in your hand as you pulled away, licked the wetness from your palm. blinking up at him from under your lashes, chuuya’s gaze grew dark, his patience waning.

“taste good, chuuya,” you grinned, wiping your hands off on your thighs as you finally positioned your lips over his tip, kissing him lightly.

he hissed, but kept his hips still. “yeah? want me to cum in your mouth? fuck,” he said as you sank your hot lips over him, your tongue running along the side of his aching cock. a heavy hand landed on your head, and chuuya stroked your hair lovingly, his breathing heavy as you hollowed your cheeks. “such a messy girl, all for me. so hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

you made a soft sound, your mouth too full of him to speak.

“y-yeah,” chuuya stuttered, his chest heaving as your fingers reached up to stroke him gently, massage his balls as spit made a mess all over your face. “fuck. fuck, you’re so perfect. i can’t let anyone else have you. gonna kill anyone who even looks at you.” chuuya groaned, his other hand coming around to cup your cheek, thumb stroking you in adoration. “i bet you’d like that. you’re so desperate for attention, and you’ve got all of mine.”

his words came out more raspy, then, voice lingering on the edge of a sigh. you ran your tongue along the vein, swallowing around him once more. from the deepened sound of chuuya’s voice, you knew he was close, and his fingers curled in your hair, roughly, squeezing at your scalp.

he choked out his words, chest rising quickly. “just like that, sweetheart, such a good girl. you’re gonna make me cum.” his voice strained as his hand guided you, gently, along his aching cock.

there was little warning when he shot thick ropes of cum into your mouth, yanking on your hair tightly as you swallowed as much as you could. it leaked onto your lips, down your chin, and you glanced up at chuuya with lust-blown eyes, smiling with flushed cheeks.

“i love you, chuuya,” you said, your hands resting on your lap as he gazed down at you, cock twitching once more at the sight of you so ruined.

“shit. i love you too, doll,” he said, pulling you to your feet, cradling you against his chest. “i’m never going to let anyone hurt you again. i’ll keep you safe, okay?”

you smiled, nodded at the sight of his flushed cheeks, but already, he was tugging at your waistband, sticking cold fingers down your pants.

“chuuya,” you gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “what are you doing?”

he smirked, eyes dark as he rubbed a finger through your wet folds. “didn’t think i’d let you go without taking care of you first, did you?” chuuya asked, watching the breaths come out of you quicker. “besides,” he nodded over his shoulder towards the lifeless, bloodstained body, eyes wide and white in fear as she stared. “we can’t leave without giving her a show.”

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

sorry guys i kinda rushed through this one a bit bc i wanted to get back to writing about my scrumdiddlyumptious pookie bear :/ (dazai)

701 notes · View notes

sbwrites · 1 month

Text

I wish that I had Steve’s girl - E.M

Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends and he would never do anything to hurt him but god he’s in love with his girl. Inspired by:

Steve is a friend Yeah, I know, he's been a good friend of mine

Steve and Eddie had been best friends since that one night in the upside down, Steve had come back to save him and ever since they’ve been inseparable. They work together, they live together, they go shopping together, hell they even flirt with girls together. They’re worse than max and that Walkman of hers so that’s saying something.

But lately something's changed that ain't hard to define

Eddie knew something was up when Steve distanced himself a bit from him. They stopped going out together every weekend and Steve stopped flirting with girls with him and that was very unusual. Steve was always up to flirt with anyone, usually girls would brush him off but when they didn’t he’d get a real kick out of it. So when Eddie and Steve did eventually go out one Saturday night and Eddie noticed Steve not doing his usual rounds around the bar to flirt with any woman in sight he finally asked him what was up.

Steve’s got himself a girl and I want to make her mine

It made total sense now. Steve was always loyal when he was in a relationship and now Eddie wanted to meet her. They met the next weekend, Steve decided to host a party at his and eddies shared apartment and he invited his girl. Eddie was polite per the request of Steve, his new girl was shy and quiet despite her metal look, the complete opposite of what Steve’s type usually was. She was Eddie’s exact type to a t. Eddie was fucked.

And she’s watching him with those eyes, And she’s loving him with body, I just know it

Eddie stood in the kitchen, as far away from Steve and his new girl as he could get without it looking like he was avoiding them. The way she was looking at Steve made Eddie jealous, she looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, why couldn’t she look at Eddie that way? A couple hours had passed and everyone was filtering out of the shared apartment, Eddie didn’t miss the way Steve and his girl quietly snuck into Steve’s room. After the last few people had left, Eddie sat on the balcony deciding to light up a cigarette and turn on the portable radio they kept out there trying to drown out Steve and his girl’s noises he could hear coming from Steve’s room.

You know, I wish that I had, Steve’s girl

Eddie was hopeless. It had been weeks since he first met Steve’s girl and he still couldn’t get over her. She was staying over more often recently and it was killing Eddie. She was so sweet and played such good music whilst she was dancing around the apartment and god when she gets out of the shower and walked through the apartment in just a towel has Eddie running off to his room hiding his obvious hard on. He didn’t miss anything that Steve and his new girl did except the fact they both looked at him the same way he looked at them.

#Spotify #sbwrites #sb.eddie munson #sb.stranger things #sb.steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader

367 notes · View notes

miupow · 4 months

Text

‧₊˚✩彡 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 /ˎˊ˗ 𝚌.𝚢𝚓 *ੈ✩‧

┆ rockstar!choi yeonjun x fem!reader ╰--⪼ one of the hardest things about dating a rockstar is the distance; when he’s on tour he’s thousands of miles away, busy and unable to call, and you spend months alone in a cold counting down the days until he gets home. but your boyfriend put some extra time aside to make a very special video call to his favorite girl.

. . . RATING ! NSFW, MDNFI! . . . WORDS ! 1.7k . . . WARNINGS ! soft dom!yeonjun, daddy kink, lots and lots of pet names, praise kink, sex toys, facetime sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, a little angst in the beginning

for @napofamoon's growing pain rockstar!txt event! this is also a little christmas gift for her and all of my followers~~ thank you to @taegimood and @wolfytae-exe for proofreading!

You purposefully let the call ring out for a bit before answering– you didn’t want him knowing you had been pacing for an hour, waiting impatiently by the phone.

“Hey beautiful,” Yeonjun croons immediately upon you picking up, pretty bare face filling up the screen of your phone– he must’ve just gotten out of the shower, his hair wet and pushed back, black tank top and flannel overshirt pulled on haphazardly like he had been in a rush… sometimes you hated how he looked so beautiful so effortlessly. It reminded you just how horrifically out of your league he was. “What are you up to? How was your day?”

“Mm.. not much. It’s been boring without you.” You sigh listlessly, giving Yeonjun a tight, unconvincing smile. “I didn’t have work today so Yunjin took me shopping– got some things for the apartment, some new clothes. Waited for you to call. I’m honestly more interested in how you’re doing, babe.”

Yeonjun gives you an apologetic little grin, eyes unreadable– it does nothing but makes you feel worse. At least he was aware he promised to call three hours earlier. “I’m sorry it’s so late, we had a show.”

“I know.” You reply, a little curt. Yeonjun doesn’t have complete control over his own schedule, pushed and pulled around everywhere he goes by both his managers and his other band members, bending over backwards for breaks snuck in between press appearances and shows every time he and his band were on tour… you’ve beat yourself senseless trying not to let it get to you.

“I’m sorry, baby, I really am.” Yeonjun repeated, voice low as he leaned in closer to the camera. “There was a problem with the sound system so our open started an hour late, and then there was a fight in the pit so we had to stop for security to kick them out, and then Beomgyu wanted to get drinks after the show and–”

“It’s alright, Jjun. I understand.” You cut in, voice soft. Yeonjun gives you a look like he doesn’t quite believe you. “It sounds like you had a busy night… you always have a busy night.”

“Yeah, I’m sure things are real quiet when I’m not around.” Yeonjun gives you one of his signature grins, lopsided and handsome, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Missing me yet?”

He wants you to respond with some snide joke, lighten the mood– Yeonjun’s begging for it, brown eyes nervously flitting across your face as his smile cracks and splinters, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. “So fucking much, Jjun.” you croak, “I miss you so fucking much.”

His face drops immediately, his unconvincing grin giving way to one much more solemn and sad– it makes your stomach churn, unable to stomach the helplesslessness in his eyes. “I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

“But when?” You press, even though you knew you shouldn’t. Conversations over ETAs only ever lead to fights– Yeonjun loved to make promises he knew he couldn’t keep.

“Soon.” He repeats, his stare hard as he shifts on his hotel bed. “I’ll make it work. I’ll come and see you.”

You knew he wouldn’t, but he was always such a sweet liar.

The look on your face must have given you away, because Yeonjun gives you a desperate, pleading pout, kissable lips pulled down into a grimace. It tears your heart to pieces. “Just bare with me baby, okay? The tour’s almost over, I’ll be home soon–”

“And then you’ll just go on tour again.” You spit, nastier than you meant for it to come out. The wide-eyed, guilty look Yeonjun gives you makes your heart drop to your stomach; you’re fairly sure you would have felt better if he had just gotten angry with you instead.

The sigh he lets out weighs a ton, settles on both of your shoulders. “Can we just talk about this later? We can talk about this when I get home, just– I love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you too,” You reply in a whisper.

“I love you more than anything in the world, baby, more than this.. stupid fucking job, okay?” You had never heard Yeonjun refer to his career as a “job” before… you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Everything I’m doing right now is for our future together; if I pull this off right we won’t have to work another day in our lives, do you understand? It’s fucking rough right now but we’ll get through it, baby, I know we will. It’s all for you, beautiful.”

“I love you,” you repeat, voice wobbly with unshed tears. You’ve heard this speech a thousand times but it never failed to break you down, make your heart full.

“God, gorgeous, I love you too. My everything. My future. Enough sadness, yeah?”

Yeonjun’s gentle, soft words snaps you out of your reverie, reminds you of your plans before getting lost in your own emotions– you hadn’t wanted this call to go this way at all… in fact, you had wanted it to go a different way entirely. You nod and quickly rub your eyes.

“Jjunie…” you start, still semi-sad voice melodic and now charged with a sweet, playful lilt. “I got you something, when I went shopping earlier…”

Yeonjun catches your drift fast, his eyebrow raising with a mischievous grin; he was always so in sync with you, always understood your wants and needs like he could read your mind. “Oh? What’d you get me, sugar?”

You giggle, blink away the tears as you smooth your hands over your baggy sweater, play with the hem– you scoot back a bit, letting more of your body come into frame; Yeonjun hisses in a loud breath when he sees that sweater was the only thing you were wearing.. “I dressed myself all pretty for you, daddy– do you wanna see?”

“Fuck,” Yeonjun breathes, leaning even closer to the camera. His pretty brown eyes are blown wide, lids low as he bites at his plush lower lip. “Take it off, let daddy see.”

You’re slow in sliding off your sweater, teasing as you tug it up over your thighs, over your hips– Yeonjun drinks in every inch, hungry eyes locked on your thighs, and he lets out a low, nasty groan from deep in his chest when you reveal to him your pretty lace thong.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking pretty,” he growls, “Turn around for me.”

You follow his directions obediently, turn your back to show him your lace-covered ass as you finish peeling off your sweater— the sound Yeonjun makes is unholy, deep and nasty and matching the grin on his face. “Fuck, such a perfect ass. So beautiful.”

“I miss you, daddy.” you whine, turning back to the camera to show Yeonjun your pout. His lips are gnawed raw, shiny with spit and pretty pink as he takes in greedy eyefuls of your bra-clad tits, coos at you so sweet and condescending.

“Mm, I miss you too, sugar. Go on; show daddy how much you miss him. Take that bra off ‘n show him those pretty tits, hmm?”

“Yes, daddy~” you purr, quick to reach behind you for the clasp. You’re teasing in sliding off your bra, let the straps hang off your shoulders for a moment before you take it off entirely. Your perky nipples pucker in the cold air, begging for attention— you know better than to touch without Yeonjun’s permission, however.

He can read you like a book, knows exactly what you need as you squirm on camera. “Go ahead and touch, my good girl.”

One hand flies to your breast, tweaking your nipple between your forefinger and thumb; the other moves to rub your clothed clit in tight circles. you let out a breathy moan at the feeling, fight every fiber of yourself to keep your eyes open— you don’t want to miss a single second of watching Yeonjun. He’s breathing heavy, hastily angled the camera down to show you the big bulge in his sweatpants. He strokes himself over the fabric with the lightest of touches, teasing the both of you as he pants into the microphone. “What I would do if I was there...”

“What would you do, daddy?” you ask lightly, feigning innocence, pinching your nipple with a whimper. You’re so wet you’re soaking through your little panties— you’re sure Yeonjun had noticed.

“God, I’d fuck you so hard. Dressed up so pretty for me, you deserve a reward, fuck— I’d leave those panties on while I bend you over and fuck you good, fill you up with my cum… you’d let me, right angel? Let me breed that little pussy?”

You moan high in your throat, hips stuttering as you continue to circle your clit, play with your bud. “Yes, yes! M-more, daddy, I need more!”

Yeonjun squeezes himself through his sweats, snickers at your fucked-out face. “Oh, baby… how about you go and grab that little vibe you love so much, give daddy a little show?”

You don’t need to be told twice; nodding desperately, you reach for your bedside drawer and pull out your favorite vibrator, thin and pink and powerful enough to make you scream. You settle back into frame, position yourself with your thighs wide apart so that Yeonjun has a full view of your drooling cunt, the soaked fabric of your thong clinging to your lips obscenely. You feel vulnerable and exposed, and you embrace it as Yeonjun drinks in your form.

Yeonjun’s too impatient to tease you, giving you an affirming nod so you can start running the vibe across your throbbing slit. “Don’t take those panties off,” Yeonjun orders, slowly untying his sweatpants. “Want you to play with yourself with them on, okay?”

You don’t like the sound of that. “But I want my fingers,” you whine, pathetic, “want something inside—“

“Nuh uh,” Yeonjun chastises, pulling his hard pink cock out and giving it a stroke— you hadn’t realized how much you missed it until you saw it again, cockhead flared and dripping precum. “Listen to daddy, baby. Nothing goes in that cunt except my cock, you hear me? Be patient— I’ll fill you up when I come home.”

And it isn’t until after he’s made you cum in your panties, vibrator on your clit and fingers on your nipples, that he explains why; he has a surprise for you too.

The rest of the tour was canceled. He’s coming home.

#txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt ff #txt fanfic #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun smut #nightly.nsfw #nightly.jjunie #txt x you #txt x y/n

511 notes · View notes