#I guess some truths really are hard to swallow

[joojeans]

˚◞♡ ⃗ I Dare You Pt. 4

♡ Bestfriend!Euijoo x Afab!Reader

♡ Summary: You’re sitting on the floor with your friends playing a juvenile game–truth or dare. Things have been spiraling out of control for some time now, but what happens when you’re dared to turn on one of your best friends without touching them? Can they handle it? Can you handle it? Spoiler alert: neither of you can. Find out how things go from seriously fucked up to seriously fucked, one member at a time.

♡ WC: 3.6k

♡ Content: euijoo has a driver's license (but does not drive in the fic), lil bit of dirty talk, lots of making out, some breast play, unprotected sex (be smart), risky sex location ig, bigdick!euijoo, pinch of clit play, quickie, creampie (yeah all of these have creampies SUE ME)

♡ PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST 

Euijoo is laughing. It’s that throaty laugh of his that always makes you smile. The one he does when just smiling his amusement isn’t enough.

Why is he laughing?

Nicholas was just dared to FaceTime his current situationship without her knowing the rest of you were sitting around watching. He thought it seemed innocent enough–his friends were just curious who she was. He underestimated her.

It didn’t take long for the intimate details of their “relations” to come to light. She assumed he was calling to play, she was all too happy to indulge. Before Nicholas could stop her, she was recounting details of their last hook up, the lust dripping from her voice and spreading from Nicholas’s warm cheeks to his suddenly aching cock. He was mortified. And horny beyond belief.

He rushed the call’s end, hanging up with as few comforting words as possible, but the damage was already done. When the call was over and the coast was clear, you were all laughing. None of you had expected it to go so fantastically awry for him.

He was especially annoyed with Euijoo, though. You guess he assumed better of him, or maybe he was just particularly bothered because he’s closest to him. Whatever the reason, he’s been shooting daggers at Euijoo. None of you are blind to it.

What you didn’t expect, though, is for you to partially pay the price.

K speaks up. “Okay, y/n. Truth or dare?” And before you can answer: “And don’t choose truth this time.”

You’re even more tempted to choose truth now, if only to irritate him, but you repress the urge. “Fine. Dare.”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. “Okay, I dare you to do to Euijoo what we all just did to Nicholas.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, you know. Turn him on. He thought it was so funny seeing Nicholas like that. Would he feel the same if it was him instead?”

You glance next to you. Euijoo is sitting right beside you on the couch, his eyes somewhere between mortified and pleading as he stares at K. Fuck, it’s cute. But it’s… not right, is it?

“I don’t think…” You hesitate, not wanting to insult or embarrass Euijoo unintentionally. “I don’t think he wants that? And I can’t in good conscience touch him like that when he’s opposed.”

K waves his hand dismissively. “Ah, it’s fine. The one rule is that you can’t actually touch his dick, so it can’t be that bad. Right, Euijoo?” K is glaring at him–testing him, smirking.

Euijoo’s head cocks slightly. It seems like he’s having a hard time believing that this is actually happening right now. But despite how shy he can be at times, he’s also not one to eagerly back down from a challenge. He’s not a big fan of being underestimated. You watch as his adam’s apple betrays how thickly he swallows before speaking. “Yeah, whatever. I guess.”

“Wait, wait.” Now you can’t believe what’s happening. “Euijoo.” You wait for him to look at you. He does. “Are you actually going along with this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable because of a stupid game.”

He smiles a little and you can see some of the tension leaving his body. “I know, y/n. That’s why I don’t really mind… it’s you.” He quickly adds: “But if you’re not comfortable then please, please just ignore these idiots. It’s… an awkward thing for both of us.”

Your heart warms at how much he trusts you and centers your comfortability. It’s just like him. He’d put himself through anything, but he’d never allow you or anyone he loves have a single moment of suffering if he can help it.

“I’m okay, Euijoo. Thank you though.” You scoot a little closer to him, the sides of your body touching from shoulders to feet. Just a little test. If he recoils, then he isn’t as comfortable as he’s saying he is. To your surprise, he doesn’t. He just smiles down at you. It’s an unsure smile, one that betrays his feeling of not knowing what to do in this situation, but he looks…excited? Awkward, curious, but open.

Alright, game on.

You pull your legs up under you so it’s easier to move around in Euijoo’s bubble. His eyes are watching your every movement like a hawk, surely trying to anticipate your next move so he’s prepared for it. You chuckle to yourself. He’s so cute.

You sidle up next to Euijoo, closing the distance between the two of you even more. You drape your forearm on his shoulder, your fingers fondling his pretty hair as you look right into his sparkling doe eyes. He grins–it’s one of the nervous, endearing ones. “You look so handsome tonight, Euijoo.”

A softball. You know you’d have to do much more than that to get a good reaction out of the others, but you’re going easy on him. For now. You don’t want to scare the sweet boy.

“Oh,” he mumbles quietly. He doesn’t say anything else–just nods his gratitude. He won’t take his eyes off yours, and you can’t help but feel taken off guard by that. You had expected that he would be avoiding your gaze as much as possible. You’d think this much eye contact would feel much too intimate for him. Maybe he’s full of more surprises than you’ve always thought.

“You know…” You start again, threading your hand through his hair. Your fingers clutch the strands at the roots, tugging just enough for his pretty, pouty lips to part. The tiniest gasp puffs out, but you’re sure that no one but you could hear it. You smile fondly, encouraged by this reaction. “I’ve always liked how tall you are.” You lower your head, plucking his earlobe between your teeth, feeling him shiver slightly in response, his body tensing again. “Sometimes when you’re looking down at me…” You whisper the words against his ear, purring. “It makes me want to get on my knees for you.”

Euijoo’s breath catches in his throat. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to be quite this bold.

You lift your head again, gently grazing your hand up the front of his throat until it rests palm side up under his chin. You hold the two of you like this, eyes locked on each other once again. You don’t want to give him the opportunity to start dodging you now. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Euijoo?”

His mouth starts to move. He was going to answer, but he thinks better of it, closing his mouth.

That’s okay. You weren’t quite done yet, anyway.

“You’d make the prettiest sounds for me if I let you have my mouth, wouldn’t you?” You tailor your voice to sound as if it’s what you want even though the words sound like they’re about him. You know it’ll be harder for him to ignore the temptation if he believes you’re the one that wants it. He can ignore his own needs. Ignoring yours…not so much.

You don’t let him ignore you this time. You hold his gaze silently, forcing him to speak up if he wants to move on from this. 

You watch as his eyes flit about your face, stalling. Even if he wanted to say yes, please, he wouldn’t let himself do that. His jaw is tense from this situation that feels impossible. You take notice of his ears reddening and the way his hand twitches in the direction of his crotch in your periphery. You choke down a smirk. Finally, he speaks.

“It’s not polite to say things you don’t mean, y/n.”

Your lips part this time, surprised by how assertively he speaks. You watch as his pupils dilate, a shiver traveling through your own body. Something about how confidently he’s calling your bluff makes you feel like maybe you’re not bluffing anymore.

The dare ends with Euijoo getting the last word, though. Before you’re able to do anything more, K is sneering, motioning to the way Euijoo has clasped his hands just so over the crotch of his jeans. “I bet you wish you never laughed at Nicholas now,” he taunts. Euijoo rolls his eyes and takes his bodily agency back, turning his head back to the front, leaving your hand floating awkwardly where it had been under his chin.

You pull your hand back a little too quickly, startled by how much you seem to have affected yourself in the process of riling up Euijoo. As expected, you accomplished the job. Unexpectedly, he didn’t respond in any of the ways you’d predicted. You sit back down properly, but you’re still sitting much closer to him than before. You feel like you’d both be able to breathe easier if you sat back where you were initially, but you don’t want him to feel like you were just waiting to get away from him.

Euijoo doesn’t seem to be as concerned with little things like that right now. He clears his throat and stands up, expertly controlling his reaction to everything now that it’s over. “Now that whatever that was is done, can we go get some drinks?” His eyes dart to Nicholas. “You were supposed to take care of that when you came tonight, but since you didn’t, you can just go with me to get them.” Not a question. An order.

Nicholas groans and leans back from his place on the floor until he’s laying flat on his back. He frowns up at Euijoo, hoping to get out of this. “Can’t I just send you the money and you can go? I’ll send extra as an apology.” 

Euijoo shakes his head. “No. You know better what everyone’s going to want since they already told you beforehand. You know, so you could bring the drinks like you said you were going to.”

Nicholas smiles sheepishly. Maybe if he’s cute enough, he can get out of this. You know how he works. “I know, but…” He looks around the room. He needs a get out of jail free card. His eyes light up when he sees you. “Just take y/n! She always remembers what we like because she actually pays attention, unlike the rest of us stupid men.” Oh. So now he’s trying to butter you up too.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Everyone looks towards Fuma. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that after…” He motions to the couch. You almost feel embarrassed. He doesn’t need to say anything more.

K scoffs. “Please. It’ll be fine. You know Euijoo. He won’t try anything.” 

And with that, the decision seems to be made for you. Everyone nods and mumbles their agreement, going back to their own discussions and phone screens, knowing that you and Euijoo won’t cause much of a fuss. They’ve sorted it. 

Euijoo looks at you. He looks like he feels a little bad that you got roped into this but other than that, he’s solid. He holds up his keys and dangles them. I’m ready when you are.

You pull yourself up from the couch and step over the other men spread out on the floor. Euijoo holds open the garage door for you when you reach it, closing it behind the both of you when you walk past the door frame. He reaches for the lightswitch and flicks it on, but it doesn’t do much good. Most of the lights are burned out, leaving only enough light to see each other when you’re standing close. Euijoo starts to move past you towards the driver’s seat, but you catch his hand.

“Wait.”

He stops. He takes a step back so that he’s standing directly in front of you, eyes looking down at you as if to check for any signs of you being uncomfortable. You know all he’ll be able to see is intrigue. “You good?” His voice is lower than usual. Probably trying to not startle you, you’d guess.

“Yeah.” You pause for too long and Euijoo looks antsy. Why aren’t you letting him get in the car then? “I was just thinking…”

The words are having a hard time coming out. This is the most precious person you know. He’s so sweet, gentle, proper. How do you propose what’s in your mind?

“Y/n?” He’s going to need you to finish that sentence.

“Sorry.” You decide to rephrase. “How are you feeling right now? After…what went down in there?”

He laughs politely. “I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry. You didn’t send me into a spiral or anything.” He starts to move again. You stop him again.

“No, wait. I…know.” His brows are furrowed as he tries to piece together what’s going on. “But…what if I’m not fine? You could be…not fine, too.”

“What are you saying, y/n? Are you uncomfortable with what happened? Because I’m really sorry if that’s the case…”

“No. I want more of it. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Oh?”

You lightly graze your fingernails up and down his forearm as you talk, slowly. “Maybe we could just…make out? For a few minutes. Try and relieve some of our tension before we go.”

You watch as everything clicks in Euijoo’s mind, reflected in his eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, y/n? Seems like it could just cause more trouble.” His eyes drop to your lips. It would appear that he’s not too worried about that.

You nod, smiling as you pull him closer to you by the hand. You step backward a step or two until your calves hit the front of the car. Euijoo is watching you, letting you guide him where you want him. It’s a bit hard to read him. He doesn’t seem as eager as you, but he’s not uninterested either.

It feels like a challenge and you like a challenge.

Your lips part instinctively when Euijoo leans in first. His hands are respectfully at his sides, but he’s leaning into you, tilting his head just so as he brushes his lips against yours, testing, watching. The small action evokes a dreamy sigh from you and Euijoo smirks, his hand finding the small of your back as he seals your lips together.

He moves his lips against yours slowly, not pushing too far. His tongue remains in his mouth, focusing on kissing you properly. His hand is holding your shirt tightly at your back and that’s the sign you need to know he’s pent up too. Yeah, he can handle himself, but does he want to? Do you want him to?

“Euijoo,” you whisper against his lips, one leg wrapping around his long one, forcing him to stumble even closer to your body. He exhales, the needing undertone of your movements making his heart race in his chest. He leans forward, his free hand resting on the hood of the car as his other keeps its place on your lower back. You’re looking at each other, lips close but not kissing, eyes communicating. You can see Euijoo fighting himself.

You want to make it impossible.

You move your hands under the front of his shirt and he hisses, glancing down. You take hold of his waist–perfectly sized for grabbing. His breath is already heavy from how hard he’s trying to hold himself back. By the time his eyes drift back up to your face, you’re moving in on him.

This time, you capture his lips, gliding your tongue along the crease of them, silently begging for entrance. He groans, frustrated with his own cravings, but gives in to them. He invites your tongue into his mouth, freely letting himself feel it with his own. You’re holding yourself up with your arms on the hood and everything feels urgent, desperate, as Euijoo takes over the kiss, leading you both in the direction his tongue wants.

You’re all too happy to let him show you what he wants, especially when his lips gravitate from your lips to your jaw, knocking your head to the side gently as he finds your neck. You’re pulling at his body and gluing your own to it as he drags his tongue over your skin, wincing from the feeling of you pressed so firmly to his stiff crotch. He lets himself get lost in exploring your body, one large, gorgeous hand moving up your torso, taking your breast in its grasp. He groans against your shoulder as he feels the soft flesh, his grip tightening when you moan in response.

He pulls back from your neck to look at you again and his eyes are glazed over with lust. You’re kissing again and your body is practically vibrating with need. You know he is too, his cock hard against your leg, both of you dizzy from a lack of oxygen. Euijoo’s doing a good job of making you feel so fucking good, but you need more.

You keep his body in place with one hand as your other reaches for the zipper of his jeans. Immediately, instinctively, his hand drops from your chest to where your hand is trying to unzip him. He leaves his hand on top of yours, his lips breaking contact. He turns his head to the side just enough to be able to see you on one side and the garage door on the other side, his lips swollen and red. He knows where you two are right now. He knows it would only take a second for one of your friends to see what you’ve been up to.

Fuck, you think. I pushed too far. 

His eyes turn back to yours and you can see gears behind them. It’s only a moment, but it feels like a lifetime. 

He moves his hand from yours. You wouldn’t be sure what that means if his hands didn’t immediately move to your own pair of shorts, nimble fingers working the button and zipper free, his lips on yours again. You moan into his mouth, anticipation killing you, pushing his jeans down when you’ve managed to unfasten them.

“We need to be quick,” Euijoo warns between rushed kisses. A chance for you to change your mind. A reminder that you’re not exactly in a private place even if it feels like it right now. You nod eagerly, not giving a shit about anything but having him. Now, preferably.

You fall back against the hood a bit as your arm weakens, half-laying over it as Euijoo manages to undress you both from your waists to your knees, your clothing haphazardly hanging as best as it can to your bodies. True to his word, Euijoo moves things along swiftly, looking down as he glides the tip of his cock through your folds, collecting your arousal and testing your readiness for him. He hisses at the sensation, his eyes fluttering from the warm wetness.

“Oh my god,” you moan at the feeling. 

Encouraged, Euijoo pushes inside you, a drawn out but soft moan pushing out of his pink lips. You echo him, doing your best to keep relatively quiet even as the sheer size of him stretches you more than you’d expected. You try to lift yourself back up somewhat, salivating at the thought of seeing the point of connection between you. Seeing Euijoo fully sheathed inside of you makes you clench and he hisses, a quiet chuckle following. 

“Yeah? Good?”

You scoff, grinning. “So fucking good.”

Euijoo’s lips quirk into a crooked smirk and he starts to move, thrusting into you at a pace that is increasing steadily from the start. We need to be quick, his voice echoes in your head.

Oh god, you moan. Feels so good. Euijoo. Euijoo. Euijoo.

So pretty, he fawns. Shh, y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

It pains you both to restrict yourselves, to rush through your pleasure, but the pleasure is better than the pain.

Euijoo fucks you like he’s been waiting to his entire life. He learns in moments how to make your eyes roll back into your head, how to make you choke trying to keep your voice down. He fucks you deep, his hands harshly gripping your thighs–you’re sure he’ll apologize for that later. He lets you fall and writhe on the hood of the car, all too capable of controlling your body with his own hands, drinking up the sight of you being drunk on his cock.

When he can tell you’re losing yourself to your pleasure, his thumb finds your clit, reveling in the way you whine. “Shh, a little quieter for me” he reminds you, his voice the gentlest aphrodisiac. He’s grinning, proud to see you like this for him.

You cup your hands over your mouth when the knot finally snaps, your eyes squeezing shut as your muffled cry is smothered in your palm. Euijoo’s legs stutter at the feeling of you cumming around him, squeezing him, coaxing him to follow you. He groans and allows himself a few more impossibly deep, sharp thrusts into you before he whitens the inside of your cunt, his mouth hung open in silent relief.

He looks so fucking pretty like that.

You’re both spent, but Euijoo only takes a few moments to recover. He gives you many more though, taking it upon himself to redress you both. He moves your panties and your shorts so carefully up your body–as if he’s afraid to break you after fucking you like that. 

Once he’s finished, he sits you up, his arm the security you need around your back. He smiles at you, brushing his thumb over your lip. “You did so well.” Butterflies. “Are you okay to go now?” You know he wouldn’t make you.

“Mhmm. I’m good.” You reflect his smile.

“Yeah. Me too.” He kisses the corner of your lips and helps you off the hood of the car with a smile, making sure to open your door and buckle your seatbelt for you. You both know he doesn’t need to. 

He just wants to.

[lorereadsclassics7]

August 4th

The Demeter Captain, a literal day ago: the first mate went mad, he is not to be trusted

Also the Demeter Captain today: "I dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm"

#dracula daily #bram stokers dracula #dracula #the demeter #The Demeter Captain #The Demeter crew #Mr Sir is a hypocrite #Also about to be a vampire's juice box #Well #I guess some truths really are hard to swallow

[nathaslosthershit]

Lie Detector (Teen Dad!OP81 AU)

(Part of the Teen Dad!Oscar AU) Summary: Oscar does a lie detector test and Lando learns some tough pills to swallow.

“So, our first media video for McLaren since the big news came out, right Oscar?” Lando said.

“Yep.” Oscar weakly responded. When McLaren asked him to do the lie detector test again, hoping to poke fun at the recent events, he was weary. He knew his team wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or his family, and it would probably be great from a PR perspective, but he was already tired of constantly answering questions. 

“Or should I call you Daddy Osc now?”

“Please never call me that.”

“So, we are doing a lie detector to try and expose all secrets the two of us may be hiding, like an entire family for example.” Lando, of course, knew about Oscar’s kids before he was exposed, but he still loved the opportunity to poke fun at him for it, even if he totally understood why Oscar did what he did.

“This time, we are using a heavy duty lie detector, with actual wires and someone to tell whether we are for sure telling the truth, instead of a toy that shocks us at random.” Oscar continued, ignoring Lando’s comment.

The words ‘Oscar tells the truth’ flashed on the screen till a wired up Oscar appeared behind the desk.

“Okay Oscar, starting off easy. Is your name Oscar Jack Piastri?” Lando was giddy as he asked, really excited to get information out of his teammate.

“Yes.” was all he responded. Truth.

“Are you originally from Australia?”

“Yep.” Truth. This was easier than he had thought, but looking in Lando’s eyes, he could see the glint of mischievousness in them.

“Are you a daddy?” 

“I am a father, yes. I don’t like the look in your eyes when you call me that.” Truth.

“Do you have any other kids you are hiding?”

“No more than the two.” Truth.

“Am I their favorite uncle?” Lando knew he had it in the bag. The Piastri twins loved him and how much he spoiled them. Their parents? Not so much. Oscar’s fiancee had time and time again argued with the amount of toys Lando would get them at random.

He did begin to sweat a little as Oscar took a little longer to answer the question. He didn’t know how to break the news to him. 

“...Yes.” Lie.

“What! Oscar? You said I was their favorite!” 

“Lando, Logan has been in their life since they were born. He established himself as the cool uncle. When I let him babysit, I always return home to them eating way too much ice cream. To be fair, I think he has trained them like Pavlov’s dogs to associate him with treats so now they get way too excited and jumpy when they see him.” Oscar explained.

“This is stupid anyway I don’t care.” Lando mumbled, caring very much that he wasn’t the favorite. “Moving on, I don’t have any more questions so I guess it is my turn.”

After the video had been filmed, Oscar and Lando walked back over to the meeting room that the Piastri twins and their mother had been given to hang out in while they filmed. On the walk over, Lando interrogated his teammate even more.

“I cannot believe that I am not the cool uncle! I have never not been the cool uncle. Mila thinks I am cool, how do your kids not?”

“Lando, they are three, it is nothing personal. They love the toys you get them and they are always asking for you when they come to the factory. Logan just has seniority over you and has been the cool uncle forever, it is hard to dethrone him after a year.” Oscar said this hoping that it would stop Lando from spoiling them tenfold. 

If anything it just made him even more motivated to overthrow Logan.

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri and 472,264 others

landonorris logansargeant I will become the cool uncle

oscarpiastri lando please. No more toys we don't have the room

logansargeant In your dreams old man.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader

[ki-yomii]

baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess. 

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi x you #bts min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fanfic

[gh0stswh0re]

"relax your throat, darling"

warnings: f! reader, blowjobs + deepthroating, mutual masturbation, domestic fluff, inexperienced reader, established relationship, mentions of the reader being a virgin prior to the relationship, soft dom simon, praise

a/n: i spent an embarrassingly long time writing this and it's still barely a meh. it can be taken as a pt3 to the ghost x virgin (!) reader fic, although it's not implied anywhere + it lacks any proper storyline. this is more of a dribble than anything else.

...

nearly twenty minutes have passed since he picked you up in the kitchen, threw you over his shoulder, and carried you over to the couch – all of your protesting, giggling and playful hitting were to no avail.

it didn't really bother you, the feeling of domesticity; despite how quickly it settled into your lives – living together for barely three weeks and the tiny four-room apartment already started to feel like home.

the early morning cuddles which soon turned into ruthless competitions of who stays under the blankets for the longest before developing the first clinical signs of hyperthermia.

the dim flames of the cheap candles playfully dancing as their sweet aroma of apple-cinnamon spreads throughout the entire apartment complex – it'd be the very definition of tacky if it wasn't for simon trying so hard – even preparing dinner, despite cooking being one of the activities he hasn't done in years, and burning his hand twice in the process.

showering together – because it saves water, of course.

the late-night chatters which followed; strangely enough, simon never makes any other environmentalist comments – what a bastard.

all the small pieces puzzled together into the safe and comfortable living space you two shared, and while he would never say it out loud – simon was utterly thankful for it. and for moments like these – when he had you pinned down on the couch, one hand pressed against your tummy as the other held your hips in place with his nasty mouth pressed flat against your cunt – he was thanking god. or whatever external divine force intervened with his dull life - where the wish to suffer was just a passive request of his subconscious mind – and brought you straight into his embrace. it all felt like a simple promise - a promise of something greater that life has to offer.

this was no rare occurrence – grabbing handfuls of his clothes, silently urging him to take them off, to allow your curious fingers to explore every inch of his body, ... all while he slowly leans back, as the gaze of his drowsy eyes pierces right through you – like a predator stalking his prey - watching your every movement, and studying each individual facial expression – he could sink his teeth into you and devour you whole at any given moment, but he choses not to. truth be told, he finds his own perverted pleasure in it – his body merely anything but a physical tool for you to experiment on - teasing him in all ways possible just to see which movement provokes which reaction in him – who would have guessed such a pure virgin would turn into such a filthy slut.

although, there was a specific thing you've been begging him to try out with you – deepthroating. it sounded fun and looked fairly easy too – seeming like a good time all around.

today, you've built up enough courage to take some of the control away from him – dropping down onto your knees, a hand stilled on each one of his thighs as your lips sank down on his dick,"you didn't- shit, darling" the adam's apple bobbed in his throat as his head fell back and he swallowed hard. "darling, hey- you don't have to" one hand rested on top of your head. "but i want to" he should've known by now - dumb comments get even dumber responses.

you hated admitting he was right – especially about things you've begged him for – but it was a bit too much.

your chin quivering as your throat spasmed around his cock each time he hit the soft palate at the back of your mouth? too much.

your knees burning as if you've been kneeling on fragments of shattered glass for the past ten minutes? too much.

your jaw growing sore as spit dripples down your chin onto your chest? too much.

the stifled moans cutting through his vocal cords up his throat, as the blackness of his blown-out irises consume the color of his eyes? too-fucking-much.

he noticed – warm fingertips crept behind your neck, traveling up to your hairline "hey now-". blood rushed to your face – tingling your cheeks and painting them a shy tone of red as your lips separated from him with a loud, wet pop.

the calloused pads of his fingers rubbed against your lower jaw, carefully easing the stiffness away right before his palm wrapped around your throat – constricting the airway just enough to get a giggle out of you – dipping his head down, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, swallowing the musky taste which spread throughout his mouth.

"just like that, lean back-" releasing his grip on your throat, his hand dropped down to your chest - pushing you away slightly. "and touch yourself" breath cycled inside your lungs – into your mouth, out of your nose – faster and faster with each weary moment.

"you know how i like it" lust streaked through you – from your veins into your bones, swallowing your being entirely. you do know exactly how he likes it – two fingers spreading the swollen folds of your cunt as the third one circles on your clit – and just how much he likes it.

so you did it – leaning backward on your heels, your right hand slipped past your tummy down to your sex – fuck, embarrassment burned hot inside you, but you couldn't deny just how aroused the entire thing made you – wetness was practically dripping out of your aching cunt.

your eyes bore into his before your stare dropped down from his lips to his collarbones - now glistening with a thin layer of sweat - to his stomach – muscles tensing up – down to his lap – he looked massive even as his own hand gripped around his length.

a part of you wanted more – to just hop onto his lap, to soak right through the fabric of his pants as you straddled against him.

the other part, the greater part of you, was frozen in place – paralyzed as you watched his hand move up and down, and up – his thumb teasing the leaky, sensitive tip – and down – his hips thrusting back against his palm.

bliss started to blur your brain's function and soon only a single thought remained in that pretty little head of yours – as he'd call it – to cum, to cum hard, and to cum right fucking now.

"faster, little dove – sing for me" pure carnality.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost headcanons #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #cod #cod mw22 #cod mw2 #ghost #cod ghost

[holylulusworld]

Biggest grump

Summary: Your best friend’s friend is not as annoying as you believed.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: banter, language, mentions of pegging and anal play (they play a game, okay), snowed in, enemies to lovers, fluff

<;< Part 1

“So…how does this game work?” Bucky tries to buy himself some time. He doesn’t want to answer your questions. Especially when it comes to the girls he dated lately.

“Barnes don’t act as if you never played truth or dare before,” you slap his thigh. “Because you tried to trick me, I’ll ask you first.”

“That’s not fair,” he grumbles. Bucky looks at the glasses you placed on the coffee table. Drinking is out of the question for tonight.

“I don’t care.” You lean closer and stick your tongue out. “Fight me!”

He sighs deeply. “Fine. Whatever. I didn’t want to play this stupid game in the first place.”

You giggle at his pained expression. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“When you first met Steve, did you already know you’ll become friends?”

“He was a weak and sick boy,” Bucky smiles at the memory. “But he had guts. I first saw him when he was in trouble. Three boys tried to rough him. Steve stood his ground. A damn tough boy. I knew we will get friends right away.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” You swoon. “I met him when he was all grown. I wish we grew up together.”

“My turn,” Bucky grins. You swallow thickly, fearing he will ask you embarrassing questions. “What's a secret you've never told anyone?”

“A secret? Hmm…” You ponder. “Oh, I know!” Bucky leans a little closer when you grip his arm. “I stole a lace panty when I was sixteen. It was red, and my mom didn’t want to buy it for me. I wanted to impress my boyfriend.”

“You naughty girl.” He grins. “Did he like it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “He broke up with me after I told him I wanted to wait a little longer. He was clumsy and I didn’t like how he groped me.”

“His loss.”

“What?” You blink a few times.

“What?” Bucky clears his throat. “I mean, if he messed up it’s his loss.”

“I enjoyed wearing it, though. I sometimes buy underwear only for myself. I love to feel sexy.” You run your fingertips up and down his arm.

Bucky swallows thickly. “Your turn,” he breathes out. “Shoot me with your best shot, doll.”

“Hmm…Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What's something you're glad your mum doesn't know about you?” You ask. “Tell me everything about your dirtiest secret.”

“You want the dirt, huh?” Bucky flashes you a smirk. He wrinkles his forehead. “I let a girl peg me once.”

“No!” You slap his thigh. “Really? Who was it? Was it good? Did you like it? I didn’t take you for a guy letting the girl take the lead.”

“If it’s the right girl,” he whispers lowly. His fingertips graze your cheek and instinctively lean into his touch. “I let her have control once in a while.”

“Did you like it?” You press on.

“It was…different.” He answers honestly. “Not bad or anything. But she was a little impatient and uh…it wasn’t that good.”

“I guess she didn’t do it right,” you nod to yourself. “I let a guy finger my ass while he fucked me from behind. It was hot, and I came so hard.”

“Y/N…we should talk about boundaries. No more questions about sex,” Bucky suddenly says. His pants feel a little too tight and he doesn’t want to cross a line.

“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport, Bucky,” you whine. “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” He asks.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever cheated on someone?”

“No. Never. If I love someone, I do it with all my heart.” You grab one of the glasses to take a large sip. “If the love is gone break up. Don’t cheat. If he doesn’t fuck you right, talk. Don’t cheat.”

“You’re a good girl too.” His eyes drop to your lips. He whispers your name as you are engrossed in watching his long lashes flutter.

“My turn,” you stop Bucky before he can ask more. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“What's the strangest dream you've had?”

“Dream…hmmm…” He closes his eyes and tries to recall the dreams he remembers. “I remember one dream. I had horns, and my skin was on fire.”

“You dreamed that you were the devil?” You ask.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Steve was there too. He was wearing a suit made of cookies. And then there was this girl. She was wearing wings and looked like an angel. But she begged me to kiss her.”

You lick your lips. “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What's your worst habit?”

“I fall in love with the wrong guy every time,” you dip your head to look him deep in the eyes.

“Do I need to break someone’s face?”

You laugh at his question. “No. I haven’t been with someone for a while. So, truth or dare.”

“Dare.” His reply surprises you. “Come on, challenge me, doll. Do you want me to jump from the rooftop or empty the bottle on ex?”

“No.” You scoot a little closer to Bucky. He watches you place your hand on his chest eyes widen when you whisper the words in his ear. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Doll…Y/N…I can’t. I…Stevie will kill me.” You smirk at his nervous state. Bucky wants nothing more than kiss you, but his best friend will flay him alive if he dares to put his hands on you.

“Bucky,” you whisper. Bucky gasps when you straddle his lap and cup his face. He tries to protest but you claim his lips, making a move before he can chicken out.

“Doll…” he mumbles against your lips. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Kiss me again.”

You wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. He slips his tongue inside, swiping over your tongue. “Stevie…will kill me.”

“Who do you think made sure that we end up stuck at his cabin?”

Bucky looks at you in his lap. “Stevie…”

“The one and only. Now...do you want to see my red lace panties or do you want to play another game.”

>> Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#Biggest grump #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #mobster!bucky barnes #mobster!bucky barnes x reader #mafia au #bucky barnes drabble

[baby-yongbok]

4:26 am

Best friend!Bang Chan × Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: You love your boyfriend Minho, but lately your best friend has been on your mind.

Warnings: Cheating, Chan is a tiny bit manipulative, Car Sex? (That should be all, sorry if I missed anything!)

A/N: This might might, be the last of Chan's birthday posts. I have one more that I prepared awhile ago but I might save it. Who knows lol. I hope that you enjoy! I'm trying to start writing again and it's been hard so I'm sorry if this is a bit rough 😅

✨️Masterlist✨️

 “Tell me again why we're parked in an abandoned parking lot at 4:26 am.” Chan asks quizzically. I sighed, running my hands over my face. 

“I needed someone to vent to.” My gaze stays fixed on my lap, I don’t know if I can look at him, I don’t know what I’ll do when his eyes meet mine. He’s my best friend and I know I can tell him anything, hell, he picked up the phone in the middle of the night and came running to me. So I know that I can trust him but right now the thought of looking him in the eye with these thoughts running through my head is dizzying.

“Well I'm here, start when you want.” He leans forward, crossing his arms and resting them on top of the steering wheel. I run my hands through my hair as I try to gather my thoughts.

“Okay so, uh, Minho came home early tonight and he surprised me with this really cute home date and ya know… we had sex and it was good, really it was, but I just don’t feel… I haven’t been feeling…” My heart is beating a mile a minute, Chan and I are extremely close and we talk about our sex lives all the time but this time it’s different. 

“Unsatisfied?” Chan asks with an eyebrow raised. I nod my head, thankful that he finished the sentence for me. Talking about Minho behind his back feels so wrong but I suppose it’s not as wrong as what I plan to confess next.

“Yeah, unsatisfied and I've been… thinking of someone else.” I swallow hard as I play with the zipper of my hoodie, desperate to pay attention to anything but the look on Chan’s face. I know him, I know that he’s looking at me with semi wide interested eyes and he’s waiting for me to look back at him but I just can’t. 

“Who do you think about?” If I were in a hospital right now the nurses would go crazy because I am almost certain that my heart stopped, exploded even. I knew that he’d ask me that question but hearing it actually come out of his mouth sets off a whole new type of panic. Should I tell him the truth? I’m in a relationship, a beautiful and loving one at that, I shouldn’t go around confessing these things. But on the other hand, the thought of my fantasy coming true is too inviting to ignore. It’s now or never and I choose now.

“Well, it depends on the day. It could be Hyunjin, Seungmin, but… I mostly think of you. I guess it’s because of our connection or some shit like that, I don't know” My nerves got to me half way through my confession, shit, he must think I’m fucking with him. The silence around us lasted far too long for my liking, causing me to look over at the man in the driver's seat. His eyebrows were slightly raised and there was a red tint to the tips of his ears but other than that he seemed completely cool and collected. 

“Okay, uh, you think about me in what way? Like, do you daydream about me and kind of dissociate from Minho or do you pretend that he's me?” His brows knit together briefly before relaxing again. He shifts in his seat, leaning back completely and bringing his crossed arms to rest over his chest. He’s clearly trying not to show the effect that my confession has on him.

“I imagine that he's you, that his hands are yours and that you’re the one fucking me, it's better when I pretend.” I look back down at my lap as a deep blush creeps onto my cheeks. 

“Do you come faster? More intensely?” My head jolts up quickly and my eye’s find his immediately, the look of disbelief written all over my features makes Chan grin. He chuckles a bit and that's when I realize that he's messing with me. I sigh dramatically, relaxing into my seat before flashing my middle finger in his direction.

“Fuck you, don’t taunt me.” He smiles wider, looking down at his lap.

“I just want to know for my own personal records.” He licks his lips before looking back up at me  “It's fun hearing what I do to you.” 

At this point I’m sure that my brown skin is as red as a rose. Why did he have to look at me like that? Is he trying to ruin me? 

“I called you because I need to vent.” I remind him as I turn to look out of the passenger window, anything to avoid his gaze for a second. 

“Sorry sorry, continue.” I clear my throat and unzip my hoodie just a bit, is it getting hot in here? Why does his car suddenly feel so small?

“He falls asleep after sex all the time, I mean how could I blame him? Three rounds every night for four or five days a week is a lot on top of working and all of the other stuff that he does in a day. But no matter how many times we do it I’m still not satisfied afterwards, I watch porn and use my vibrator on the bathroom floor, every time.”

“Did you do that tonight?” His eyebrows knit together in curiosity, I open my mouth to try to answer him but when I look back in his direction I get distracted by the sight of his strong arms. He leaned back in his seat a bit more than he was a minute ago, his fingers intertwined and tucked behind his head giving me the perfect view of his biceps and everything that matches it. 

“No, I called you instead. I just needed to talk to someone. I feel like I'm going crazy, I keep wanting more and more sex. This can’t be normal.” Chan chuckles lightly and I can’t help but to roll my eyes. Is he even taking this seriously?

“Well either you're a sex addict or you aren't satisfied because you want someone else. In this case that person would be me.” He moves his hands from behind his head and rests them in his lap lazily.

“So, what? I fuck you and it goes away? If anything I'll keep wanting it.” I scoff, shaking my head in an attempt to erase the thoughts.

“You'll never know unless you try.” My eyes meet his quickly, I open my mouth to reply but no words make sense in my head. Is he serious? He’s messing with me… right? 

“I couldn't cheat on… I can't.” 

“Haven't you already though? Thinking of another man inside of you while he is? Imagining that you're with me.. your best friend. If he were thinking of someone else while he fucked you would you call that cheating?”  I turn away from him as if I'm physically trying to run away from his words. This is all too much to handle. The man that I can’t stop thinking about is basically offering himself to me. But I can’t do that to Minho, he’s been nothing but good to me for all of these years, he’s loving and attractive and he shares all of my values… but so does Chan and right now my best friend has one up on my boyfriend when it comes to intimacy. Is this really worth it? Is sex really worth potentially ruining my relationship to start a new one with Chan?

“I'm single, Y/n, if I screw you no one will care. But you, you're in a relationship. If we fuck you'll either feel guilty and confess everything to him or you'll feel so amazing that you'll call me at 4 am every night, The choice is yours.” Silence surrounds us and it almost feels heavy on my skin. What should I do next? I could tell him to take me home or I could get in the backseat and let him fuck me until I’m satisfied. I glance over at Chan to find that he’s already looking at me, his relaxed gaze is raking over my frame slowly but that’s not what did it. It was the way he licked his lips as his eyes met mine, like he could already taste me. Like he already had me. 

“Fuck it.” I blurt out, making up my mind all at once. It’s like every system in my brain shut off at once. I'm not really even thinking anymore, every move is now driven by desire. “Let me see your dick.”

 I maintain eye contact so that he knows that I’m serious. A smirk plays upon his lips and his eyebrows raise instantly.

“That escalated quickly.” He chuckles and I try my best to hide my giddy grin, Am I really doing this? Maybe I can take it back?

“Show me.” Chan takes a deep breath, hooking his thumbs into the waistline of his sweats before giving me a glance. I can tell what he’s trying to say with his eyes, he’s asking me if I’m sure about this and to be honest that answer is no, I’m anything but sure. All I know is that part of me is desperate to see if he really has this effect on me or if it’s all in my head. I nod to him and without another word he lowers the hem of his gray sweatpants and his cock springs up, resting against his clothed stomach.

Fuck what I said before, I don’t want to take it back. The mere sight of his dick, makes my mouth water. It takes every ounce of control that I have in my body not to lean forward and take him in my mouth. I want to taste him, to feel him, to use him.

“No underwear?” I tease with a smile and he shrugs.

“You said it was an emergency, I rushed over to you. Threw on the first thing I could find.”

“Mm maybe that's a sign.” He furrows his brows slightly as he watches me with curious eyes. I unzipped my hoodie completely, revealing the lingerie that I had put on for Minho tonight and never changed out of. 

“Fuck.” Chan says in a breathy sigh, bringing his hand up to his cock.

“Is it still cheating if I don't touch you?” I slip off my silk sleep shorts and turn my body towards Chan so that my back is against the passenger door. I open my legs to give him a full view of my cunt, reaching down to spread my arousal over my folds. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, babygirl” His tone is a bit deeper than before, the soft and playful tone replaced with a deep and husky one. He holds his hand out towards me and I nearly moan at the words that follow.

“Get it wet for me?” A low hum vibrates from my throat as I lean forward, pursing my lips and spitting into his palm. He coos at me, a quiet ‘good girl’ leaving his lips as he watches me. His eyes don’t leave mine as he takes his hand back and spreads my spit over his leaking tip mixing my saliva with his pre-cum. Slowly, his eyes trail down my body until they fix on my dripping pussy. He slowly starts to stroke himself, exhaling heavily when he rubs over his tip.

“Play with yourself for me, yeah?” At this point the only thing going through my head is Chan. He’s all I can remember, all that I want, all that I need. I feel drunk off of the sight of him sitting across from me, cheeks flushed and his long fingers wrapped around his hard cock. How could I possibly want to do anything but please this man?

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through parted lips, my eyes stay trained on him as I slowly trail my hand from my neck to my stomach. I watch his expression as he grows a bit impatient from my teasing, his dark gaze warning me to give him what he asked for. 

“Does it look like I want you to tease me, baby?” The tone of his voice sends chills down my spine, his words are breathy and challenging and it makes me hungry for more. What would he do to me if I kept teasing? How would he punish me? 

“Why would I give you what you want right away?” I run my fingers along my inner thighs, smiling at him as his gaze drops from my eyes to my core, watching my hand carefully. “That would be boring.”

“Touch yourself or I'll do it for you.” A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine him getting impatient with me and taking control, using his long fingers to fuck me. Why do I feel drunk off of that thought? It hasn’t even happened and yet I feel like I’m on cloud 9. 

“Fuck.” I hiss as I run my fingers between my folds brushing against my clit and circling it. Chan strokes himself a bit faster as he watches me, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. 

“Put a finger inside.” He looks up from my cunt and my eyes follow his meeting for a second. My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for something, anything, him. “Pretend that it’s me” 

He nearly sounds like he’s pleading me to do it, like he’s desperate to see how I fuck myself. Desperate to see what the thought of him does to me. I nod, slowly obeying his command and slipping my middle finger deep into my cunt.

“Oh fuck.” My back arches up off of the passenger door once I start fucking myself, increasing the pace gradually as I start to become desperate for more. I pressed the palm of my hand against my clit, trying to add as much stimulation as possible. He watches in awe as my hips buck into my hand a bit. 

“Add another.” I quickly obey his command, adding my ring finger inside, eliciting a groan of pleasure to fall from my parted lips. I try my best to keep my eyes open, I want to watch him, I need to watch him. His strokes are much faster now, small grunts and sighs leaving his parted lips, his head thrown back in ecstasy. I take in the way that his jaw clenched as he builds himself closer to the edge, his right leg slightly bouncing, it's a masterpiece that I wish I could become a part of. 

“Chan.” His name passes my lips in a breathy moan and he looks over at me as he strokes the head of his dick, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sensation. “I need you so badly.” 

“Your choice.” He groans out as he throws his head back again squeezing his eyes shut. “ Better make up your mind, I’m so close, babygirl.” 

I sigh heavily as I try my best to fight the urge to climb over and ride him until I pass out. I focus on my own pleasure again, Imagining that it’s Chan rubbing tight circles on my clit while his long fingers reach spots that I didn’t even know existed. I imagine that it’s him bringing me closer and closer to the edge, I wish it was him. The wet sounds of Chan stroking his cock mix with my moans as we both draw closer to the edge. I watch his hand as he pleasures himself, I wonder if he’s imagining that, that’s me. I wonder if he feels that same way. Does he touch himself to the thought of me at night? Thinking of all of the times that we were play fighting and his fingers grazed my bare skin, all of the tight hugs that we shared, my chest pressed up against him. Does he think about me?

“Shit, oh my god” I squeeze my eyes shut and arch my back at the thought of him wanting me just as much as I want him, maybe even more.

“Fucking cum for me, babygirl.”  Chan groans “I'm so fucking close for you.”

Those words alone throw me over the edge, one of my fantasies is coming true right in front of my eyes.

“Oh my- I'm gonna..” Before I could get another word out my orgasm rushed over me, breathtaking and mind fogging.  I clamped my legs shut and arched my back off of the car door. My moans filled the space around us but I couldn’t hear them, the pleasure was deafening. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” My name fell off of his tongue in a sweet moan and my pussy clenched at the sound of it, sending another wave of euphoria through me. “Oh shit, I'm cumming.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, his strokes becoming shorter but still just as fast. A rush of adrenaline hit me and suddenly my vision changed. I felt like a rabid animal who was desperate for food. Suddenly, I forgot about everything that was looming over my head. All of my thoughts about Minho and saving our relationship were gone. All that I could think of was pleasure and I was absolutely driven by it, so much so that after the first stream of cum came leaking from Chan’s tip I leaned forward, getting on my knees in the passenger seat and running my tongue up his length. He moved his hand quickly, clearly surprised by my sudden confidence. I licked up to the head of his cock and then took the rest of his length down my throat. His seed spilled into my mouth in warm and delicious spurts, painting my throat with his sticky arousal. Every bit of him tasted like heaven and in this moment I swear that I would do anything that anybody asks as long as I get to stay here. As long as I get to feel him. 

“Y/n” His hand lightly lays on the back of my head, stroking my hair slightly. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” I bob my head a couple of times, milking his arousal from him until I’m sure that I’ve got every last drop. Once he’s come down from his high I sit up, releasing his cock from my mouth with a faint ‘pop’ and licking my lips. I sit back into my seat, settling in a bit while we watch each other. Chan’s chest is rising and falling heavily and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, once he seem to have composed himself a little the tiniest chuckle falls from his lips as he begins to tuck himself back into his sweatpants

“Do you think that fulfilled your lust for me?” 

“Not even close.”

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[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 2: "Of Drinking and Dishonesty"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: Enjoy the next little angsty installment for this series! I've been having fun writing a bit more about the college period than expected and our next installment gets angstier. Because who does Matt date in college? Yup. She's here. You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. Feedback is always appreciated if you're enjoying the series as well!

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @rotscinema

“Okay, okay, so I took Punjabi and didn’t learn anything. Big deal!” Foggy said, waving a dismissive hand. “At least I got to talk to that really hot chick in class.”

“But that’s all you did,” Matt pointed out. “You never even managed to get her number.”

Foggy let out a sigh, a faraway look on his face as he gazed just past Matt’s shoulder. You giggled at the sight; you’d heard the story about the girl Fog had taken Punjabi just to talk to many times before, but it never failed to amuse you how little he’d actually learned because he’d been distracted by her instead.

“So what about you?” Matt asked. 

He turned in your direction, leaning his elbows along the table and drawing himself closer to you. Your fingers were fiddling nervously with the beer bottle on the table in front of you, absently peeling the label from it. The way Matt was focused on you with that little grin on his mouth in the dimly lit bar had sent your heart racing, the weight of his sightless gaze on you behind his dark glasses making you nervous. For a moment your eyes lingered on his lips, wondering just how great of a kisser he might be. How it might feel if he just leaned a bit closer towards you and connected his mouth to yours. Or what it would be like to curl up with him in your bed after this, feel his tongue in your mouth and his hands roaming your body instead of someone else’s…

You cleared your throat, shoving those thoughts quickly away. You flushed when you realized you’d been staring silently at Matt, his brows having started to rise curiously onto his forehead at you.

“What about me?” you asked awkwardly.

“I never hear you talk about going on dates or taking classes just to meet a guy,” Matt said, that grin still on his mouth. “I think it’s your turn to spill some embarrassing stories.”

You met Foggy’s eyes on your other side, his smile faltering at Matt’s question. Swallowing hard, your gaze quickly dropped down as you focused on your beer bottle in front of you again. You shrugged in response.

“Guess no one’s caught my eye,” you lied.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Matt shaking his head. Looking back up at him, you noticed his grin had widened on his perfect mouth. Immediately you frowned at the sight.

“Come on, be honest here,” Matt pressed, leaning even closer to you as one of his dark brows rose up onto his forehead. “You’ve never taken a class just to talk to someone? Or anything like that?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes falling away from Matt. It’s not like you could be entirely truthful here. Maybe you hadn’t taken a class to get to know someone you’d had a crush on like Foggy, or asked for assistance to intentionally get some one-on-one time with someone like Matt had often done. But you had become best friends with the guy you had a thing for. Rearranged your entire schedule to fit his so you could see him almost every day despite how utterly pathetic it often made you feel. 

But you certainly couldn’t admit that .

“Don’t tell me there’s no one you have a thing for,” Matt urged after a moment. “I won’t believe you.”

His arm slid across the table to nudge yours in a friendly, playful gesture. Your eyes instantly dropped down to where he’d touched you, your arm feeling like that single, brief touch had sent a burning fire through your entire body. But when your eyes darted back up to Matt’s face, your attention was drawn to just over his shoulder. There was a young woman in a group of a few others back at the bar, and it was obvious how her attention kept shifting back to Matt, checking him out.

Shoulders slumping, your head dropped low as you focused back on your beer bottle. That jealous, dejected feeling washed over you. It was one you’d become familiar with lately, feeling it whenever Matt was flirting, or being checked out, or out on a date, or clearly out having sex with someone. 

“Not anyone who’d ever notice me,” you muttered.

“Oh well now I’m sure that’s not true,” Matt said good-naturedly. “How could someone not notice you? You’re amazing. Right, Fog?”

Your head flew up, eyes going wide at Matt’s compliment. He’d called you amazing. Matt had never said anything like that before about you. Your mind suddenly was spiraling in a different direction for once, thoughts quickly running through your mind one after another.

Could Foggy have been right? Was it possible Matt maybe did have an interest in you? Maybe all this time all you’d needed to do was just tell him how you felt. Maybe he’d never asked you on a date before because you weren’t forward with your feelings like all of the other women who’d very openly flirted with him. 

Maybe it was just as simple as that.

“I tell her that all the time,” Foggy agreed easily. “And I’m sure whoever this guy is sees it, too.”

He shot you a pointed look before his eyes darted meaningfully across the table to Matt. Slowly your gaze followed where Foggy’s had, attention returning back to Matt. He had focused back on you as well, that beautiful charming smile of his on his mouth. Biting your lip, you contemplated thinking up some way to just tell Matt how you felt here and now and put everything out there in the open. Especially before the girl making eyes at him could come over and steal him away for the night. But before you could open your mouth, Matt was continuing on.

“You should really give yourself more credit,” he told you. “Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.”

Hope was quickly rising in your chest, your body suddenly feeling weightless. “You–you think so?” you asked him cautiously.

“Absolutely,” he answered, one hand coming up to readjust his dark glasses on his nose. “You’re a sweet, intelligent girl. And you’re funny as hell. Honestly, I was not expecting you to be as hilarious as you are.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

Beside you, you noticed the way Foggy’s wide eyes were darting back and forth between you and Matt like he was just waiting for the moment one of you admitted feelings or something. It felt like your stomach was filling with hundreds of anxious butterflies all flapping about inside of you as that hope only bloomed further in you. 

“Oh, definitely,” Matt said with a nod. “You’re like a female Foggy. Which is high praise, because Foggy is the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.”

Instantly you deflated as if Matt had just punched you in the gut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

Mouth dropping open, you sat there dumbfounded and hurt. Every ounce of hope that maybe you’d misread the situation–maybe he didn’t see you as just a friend–immediately dropped into your half finished bottle of beer and drowned. Your chest felt hollow as Matt’s smile briefly faltered before you. 

Attention returning back towards Foggy on your left, you saw him shooting you that all-too-familiar sad smile again. You wanted to crawl under the table and cry at the sight of it.

“You’re both suddenly really quiet,” Matt pointed out, his tone a bit nervous. “Did I–I say something wrong?”

You couldn’t look at him, your gaze dropping yet again to the table before you. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to fight them back, clearing your throat as you blinked hard a few times. 

“No,” you answered softly. “Thanks, Matt.”

“You–you sound upset,” he pointed out. “What’d I say wrong?”

“Dude,” Foggy began immediately, “you just told her she was best friend material when you were supposed to be giving her encouragement that she is more than that.”

“What? No,” Matt said quickly.

Your eyes caught sight of how fast his head turned in your direction out of your peripheral. That hollow feeling felt like it was only growing in your chest the longer you sat here. Maybe you should just call it a night and head back to your dorm before it swallowed you whole.

“That’s not what I meant,” Matt said earnestly. 

He said your name, his hand reaching out and feeling along the table before it eventually landed on your wrist. Your eyes snapped shut, your jaw clenching at the contact of his skin on yours when his fingers encircled your wrist. It wasn’t helping.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you were just friend material,” he continued. “That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong.”

“It’s fine, Matt, I get it,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“No, hey, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot,” he said in a rush, his hand holding tighter to your wrist. “Please don’t get upset. I just meant you’re a really great person, one of the best I’ve ever met. I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“Yeah, alright,” you said with a nod, desperate for him to just stop.

“How about this,” Matt said, his tone picking up to something brighter, “you bring me with to meet this guy, and I’ll be the best wingman ever." 

You slipped your wrist out from Matt’s hold, no longer interested in sitting here and finishing your beer. Walking home in the cool evening and crying sounded vastly more appealing. Abruptly shoving your chair out, the legs of it making an irritating screech along the floor that was audible over the pop music playing, you slipped out of your seat.

“You heading back already?” Foggy asked, that knowing look on his face.

“Yeah, early class tomorrow,” you answered.

“Wait, hang on,” Matt said, pushing his own chair back as he turned in his seat towards you. “If you’re leaving because I upset you, I’m sorry.”

You sighed, pushing your chair back into the table so he wouldn’t end up tripping over it when he inevitably got up. “I’m leaving because I have an early class in the morning, Matt,” you deadpanned.

Your eyes caught the brief twitch of his eyebrows on his forehead as if he somehow knew you were lying. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could try to apologize yet again. That, too, wasn’t helping. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you said quickly, shooting Foggy a wave as you took a step back.

“Dining hall for lunch tomorrow?” Fog asked hopefully.

“Sure,” you answered, shooting him a tight smile. Turning, you muttered under your breath, “If I even have an appetite by then.”

Weaving your way through the fairly busy bar, you eventually made it to the exit. You pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly late spring evening. You felt a bit of the tension easing from your body already, the street noise of the city vastly preferable to you than being in Matt’s proximity right now. You couldn’t sit there any longer listening to him apologize to you for viewing you as only a best friend. 

You were an idiot to have thought there was hope for something more between you both. Of course he was only saying nice things that a friend would say to another friend to make them feel better and build them up. It was the same thing he’d probably say to Foggy if he was interested in a girl. How stupid you were to think of it as anything else. 

Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.

You laughed bitterly at his comment, your arms hugging tight to your chest as you made the short trek back to campus and towards your dorm. Any guy except for Matt would be lucky to take you on a date, that’s basically what you gathered this evening. Matt was probably going to be hit on by that girl at the bar in a matter of minutes. You were positive he’d end up in either her dorm or his shortly afterwards. But you were not someone Matt would take on a date.

A frown twisted your mouth downwards, tears stinging at your eyes. You didn’t want to think about yet another conquest for Matt. It felt shitty that Matt would sleep with almost any girl on campus except for you. Not that that’s all you wanted from him–because you wanted vastly more than to just fuck him–but it made you feel like there was something wrong with you. 

Why weren’t you good enough? What was so different about you that Matt didn’t want you like he did with those other girls?

A tear slipped down your cheek and you reached a hand up, wiping it away. Seconds later you heard your phone ringing in your pocket and your frown deepened. You reached down, pulling it out and looking at the caller ID. Matt’s name was on the screen. Your eyes closed as you came to a stop on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to talk to him, why the hell was he calling you?

For a minute you considered letting his call go to your voicemail and ignoring it. You could always just tell him later that you’d had it on silent and didn’t realize he’d called until the next morning. How would he know you were lying? 

But you felt guilty at the thought of ignoring him just because he’d unintentionally hurt you. It’s not like Matt could control who he was or wasn’t attracted to. That wasn’t his fault. With a sigh you flipped the phone open, bringing it to your ear.

“Hey, Matt,” you answered, trying to keep the waver out of your voice.

He greeted you with your name, his voice sounding a little out of breath. You frowned.

“What’s going on? Something happen at the bar?” you asked, brows furrowing.

“No, not exactly,” he answered quickly. “Fog saw this girl he likes there. I think her name is Marci? Figured I’d leave him to it and check on you, actually. Which is why I called. How far from the bar did you get? I was trying to catch up.”

Biting your lip, you turned on the spot, stepping out of the way of a small group of college kids walking past you. A little ways back you could make out Matt’s form heading down the sidewalk towards you, his cane tapping away in one hand, his other hand holding his phone to his ear. Shoulders dropping, you realized you were going to have to walk back with him. Which was the last thing you’d been wanting to do right now.

“You didn’t need to leave on my account, Matt,” you told him.

“You seemed upset, I didn’t want you to walk back alone like that,” he replied. “So how far away did you get?”

Sighing, you began walking back the way you’d come. “I can see you, I’ll just turn back around and meet you in a minute,” you said.

Both of you exchanged goodbyes before you hung up, slipping your phone into your pant’s pocket before you once again uncomfortably wrapped your arms around your chest. It took you about a minute to reach Matt and you greeted him once you did, watching as his head darted in your direction. That damn charming smile slipped onto his face instantly and you hated the way it made you feel.

“Was hoping I’d manage to find you,” he greeted you back.

“Congrats,” you muttered. “I can walk you back to your dorm, if you want.”

“Well now that defeats the purpose of me walking you back to your dorm,” Matt countered cheekily.

You rolled your eyes, unable to fight the small smile snaking its way onto your lips. Reaching out, you placed Matt’s outstretched hand in the crook of your arm. His warm fingers curled around you, that hollow pit in your chest suddenly growing larger as you began to guide him back towards campus. 

For a little bit neither of you spoke, your body tense as Matt held onto you while the pair of you walked back towards your dorms. His cane tapping along the pavement mixed with the noises of the city, the sound lingering heavily over the pair of you.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, eventually breaking the silence.

His question caught you off guard, your lips pressing together as Columbia came into view. Once again, it’s not like you could be truthful with Matt. You couldn't tell him you had feelings for him–had them for months–and that him calling you a female Foggy had deeply hurt you. You’d only embarrass yourself and ruin your friendship with him.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head turn swiftly in your direction. Your teeth ground together under the weight of his attention. 

“Can you be honest with me this evening?” he asked.

“Who says I’m not?” you countered.

“Because I know you,” he answered immediately. “You sounded close to tears earlier before you left the bar. You’re not telling your usual jokes or laughing. You’ve been pretty quiet most of this evening, especially during this walk. You’re just giving brief responses when I know you love to talk.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the sidewalk before you as you led the pair of you down a different path, one that would bring you towards the residence halls. Internally you cursed Matt and his astute observations. 

“Was it what I said at the bar?” he pried. “Because I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”

“Can we please stop talking about that already?” you snapped.

Heat flooded your cheeks immediately after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to snap at him, but you were tired of hearing his apology. And you certainly didn’t need to hear him offer to be your wingman again.

“So it was what I said,” he replied. 

His head turned, his attention once again on you as you both continued to walk. Your gaze remained fixed ahead of you, though.

“Why did that bother you so much?” he asked gently.

“Because I–” you stopped instantly, unsure of how to navigate this conversation without giving everything away. You sighed, shaking your head. “Because I’m always the friend,” you admitted weakly, tears stinging at your eyes again. “And I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Matt said earnestly. “Why would you even think that?”

You shook your head, glad when you saw your building coming into view. You were desperate for an excuse to get out of this conversation. Especially because you felt the threat of tears growing stronger.

"It doesn't matter, forget I said that," you replied.

Matt pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk instantly. Surprised, you turned towards him, beginning to blink back the tears threatening to spill forth.

"It does matter if it's got you this upset," he pushed. "I meant what I said earlier. Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date. And if whoever this guy is has got you feeling this down on yourself, he's probably an asshole."

You couldn't help the humorless laugh that fell out of you. Little did he know he'd just called himself an asshole and you couldn't help but see the humor in it. The sound of your laugh only caused Matt’s brows to furrow though, his fingers tightening their hold on your arm. 

"What?" he asked. "Why is that funny?"

Because it's you, you idiot.

"It's not funny," you answered instead. "I just feel stupid."

He said your name softly, shaking his head. "Hey, you're not stupid" he assured you.

You couldn't stop the tears that fell, that ache in your chest only deepening with every nice word from his mouth that didn't mean what you desperately wanted it to. Matt's head tilted to the side at your silence, but the moment you couldn't fight back a choked sob, he was quickly pulling you in towards him.

One of his arms wrapped around your back, the other gently drawing your head towards his solid chest, cradling you carefully against him as his fingers lightly stroked their way through your hair. Your own hands easily wrapped around him, holding tight to him as you cried into his shirt. His hand along your back began rubbing a soothing pattern, managing it somehow even with the cane still held in his hand. His comforting presence only had you fisting his shirt tighter in your hands as you became overwhelmed with your emotions, crying harder when you felt him rest his chin along the top of your head. Somehow his hands held you even closer to himself. 

You'd often imagined what it would feel like to be in Matt's embrace so many times before; what it would feel like to be in his arms, breathing in that warm, familiar scent of him. But you’d never pictured it like this. Never because you were crying over not being able to be with him while he unknowingly comforted you for it.

"Maybe he's not the right guy," Matt whispered. "If he can't see how great you are, maybe he's not the one worth feeling like this about."

"He's not an asshole though," you choked out, voice muffled against his chest. "That's the thing."

"You'll find someone," he assured you. "Someone who will see every wonderful thing about you. Someone who won't make you feel like this about yourself."

"He usually doesn't," you muttered. 

"Usually doesn't what?" he asked softly.

"Make me feel like this," you said, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. "Usually he makes me feel good. Happy." Your fingers tightened their hold around his shirt as you sniffled. "Special. But–but he doesn't know how I feel and I am positive he doesn't feel that way in return. And that's what hurts."

"How do you know if you don't tell him?" Matt asked.

Matt’s words at the bar ran through your mind again and your eyes snapped shut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

"Believe me, I know," you answered stiffly. 

Forcing yourself to release your hold on Matt, you stepped back as he untangled his hold on you in return. You wrapped your arms uncomfortably around yourself yet again, your attention on your feet. 

"Sorry, this was stupid," you mumbled. "I can finish walking to my dorm myself, Matt. But thanks for uh, trying to help."

He took a step towards you, concern clearly written on his face. "I can walk you the rest of the way. It's not–"

"I want to be alone," you told him firmly. 

He stared at you in silence for a moment before he finally nodded. "Okay," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow though, right?"

You sighed heavily, eventually nodding. Because you knew you were too weak to give Matt up. You knew that despite how much it hurt to see him with other women all the time, the thought of him permanently missing from your life hurt worse.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Matty," you whispered. 

Turning, you made your way down the path towards your hall, tears still silently streaming down your cheeks. You ignored the stares of passing students, wiping away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand as you walked. 

These feelings would eventually fade. They had to.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock

[runninriot]

written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Day 10

prompt: first kiss | rated: T | cw: underage drinking | tags: Robin, Steve & Eddie are friends, confessions, coming out

“What d’you mean you never had your first kiss?”

Oops. Did he say that out loud? Shit. Eddie knew he should’ve gone easy on the rum. But they’ve been running around town all afternoon to buy Christmas presents for the kids and when they finally made their way back to Steve’s, the idea of having some rum-spiked hot cocoa to warm them up from the inside sounded great. And it was - up until now.

Now, he’s being reminded of the fact that alcohol loosens his tongue, makes him say things he usually would keep to himself.

“Uh, yeah? It’s no big deal.” Eddie tries to play it down, tries to ignore the heat spreading uncomfortably in his cheeks.

“No. Hold up. Eddie, are you really telling me you’ve never kissed anyone? Not once?” Steve’s eyes are huge and Eddie searches for mockery in them, finds only honest confusion.

“Well, Steve. Not everyone starts their slutty era as young as you did,” Robin defends him. Maybe because she can sense how embarrassed Eddie feels. Maybe because she knows something about him that Steve doesn’t.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Keep making fun of me but- I can’t believe it, Eddie. You’re 19 and no one has ever been worthy enough for you to kiss them?”

The way he phrases it makes Eddie’s insides twist into a knot, makes his heart flutter at the notion of Steve actually thinking anyone had ever wanted to kiss him.

Because the truth is that no one has.

“What can I say? Maybe I’m just waiting for the right one.” Eddie laughs, makes it sound like a silly joke to hide the fact that in another universe, the right one would be sitting right next to him. Not in this life, though. He’ll never know what Steve’s lips taste like.

“I’d rather not had my first kiss at all than the one I got. Middle school, Jackson Hughes. Planted one right on me, wet and sloppy. Ugh, guess that’s when I knew I don’t like boys.”

Steve shoots her an alarmed look.

“It’s okay, Steve. He knows,” Robin answers his silent question, obviously referring to Eddie knowing about her being a lesbian.

“Oh. G-good. That’s good.”

“Takes one to know one.” Eddie chokes on a laugh.

FUCK!

Did he really just out himself in front of Steve?

As if his earlier confession hadn’t been enough to throw him off, the look on Steve’s face now is even worse. Not like- he doesn’t look disgusted or anything. More like, surprised. His facial expressions going from confused to… soft? So soft in fact, that Eddie suddenly has a hard time breathing.

“Oookay. That was awkward. Moving on. Who wants another?” Eddie quickly jumps up from the sofa, waving his empty cup at the others, not even waiting for their response before he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs to do something, needs to get away. Splash some cold water into his face to cool down, sober up. Maybe getting another drink isn’t a good idea, after all.

Eddie braces his hands on the edge of the counter, drops his head down and sighs.

Shitshitshit!

Yeah, nope. He should not get another drink. Not if he doesn’t cut out his own tongue first. He already said too much, already confessed too many things for one evening. What comes next? Telling Steve that he’s hopelessly in love with him?

Over my dead body.

No one needs to know that. Especially not Steve. So, yeah. Definitely no more rum for him. He should probably go home and hide under his blanket until the end of days or at least-

“Eddie?”

He turns around quickly, trying his best to steady himself.

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s eyes are warm and his voice is gentle and Eddie just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Yeah. Just needed a minute. That was not exactly how I planned on telling you.” Eddie laughs but it sounds strange even to his own ears.

God, you’re pathetic.

The other boy steps closer and Eddie feels like he’s frozen in place. His heart beats like crazy when Steve stops only inches away from him, so close now that Eddie can feel warmth radiating off Steve’s body.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, too. A-about me.”

Eddie thinks he can feel, hear, and smell the wires in his brain short-circuiting. His mouth drops open, eyes blown wide in disbelief.

What?

“I’m… bi. Apparently.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles shyly at him.

“Th- that’s. Cool.” Eddie stutters, doesn’t really know what to say when his mind offers nothing he can share.

Steve likes boys? Maybe I have a chance. Maybe he likes me too? Shut up, Munson! He’s so pretty. I want to kiss him so badly...

“And I-“ Steve bites down on his bottom lip as if he’s trying to prevent himself from talking.

“I wanted to tell you for a while that I-“

Eddie knows he’s being delusional but he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know.

“I like you, Steve. A lot. I-“

Steve's whole face lights up and Eddie's head is spinning.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t know how exactly it happens or who starts it but somehow he finds himself glued to Steve’s lips not even a second later - his hands in Steve’s hair, Steve’s hands wrapped around his middle, their bodies pressed against one another so close that he thinks he can feel Steve’s heartbeat in his own chest.

Eddie must’ve died and gone to heaven because he is kissing Steve and Steve is kissing him back and it’s nothing like anything he’s ever felt or tasted before. A tender brush of lips, a hesitant tongue asking silently for permission, Steve’s hot breath on his face, the sweet little noises they both make… it’s like a dream come true.

And yeah. If waiting 19 years got him this - he'd do it all over again.

#steddieholidaydrabbles #day 10 #eddie munson #steve harrington #first kiss

[cptnleviackerman]

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) / Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see) / I don't wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you) / Like the other girls do

eren jaeger x reader content - alcohol consumption, hangover mention, new relationship, friends to lovers, new relationship anxiety, gn but Eren has had ex-girlfriends, comfort words - 1.5k reputation event masterlist

You press the shot glass to your lips, shivering slightly, the cool glass sending goosebumps down your neck. You swallow with a shudder. Vodka. Your eyes narrow, scanning across all the faces surrounding the table of alcohol in front of you—Mikasa, Armin, Reiner, Jean, Marco, Sasha, Connie and Eren.

“Eren, that was your idea wasn't it?” You ask, but you know you're right. Everyone knows that you practically swore off all vodka shots after your last disastrous, horrendously terrible hangover, but only Eren would be cruel enough to suggest giving you one despite knowing this.

The group burst out laughing, solidifying your guess as correct. Eren has an oddly sheepish look on his face, but you know he doesn't regret his choice.

“It was flavoured!” He laughs. “You love raspberries!”

You roll your eyes, and as the group disperses—your go being the last in this round of truth or dare—you move towards where Eren is standing, giving him a light shove as he watches you with a gleam in his eyes.

“How come you didn't want to answer your truth? I thought it was a fair question.” He brings his cup up to his lips, and the smell of rum and coke wafts into your face.

He looks good tonight, oddly put together and well dressed for the occasion—a party at Connie and Jean’s place. He even texted you, about 3 hours before the party started, to ask you what you were planning on wearing. You'd told him something blue, probably a navy, and here he is, wearing a navy hoodie with a pair of black jeans.

“You know damn well why Eren, it's too soon. It's bad enough Mikasa caught us making out at her party last month, I don't want everybody asking questions about our relationship yet, we've barely adjusted to being more than friends.” Eren turns towards the table. “I can't imagine getting the third degree from Sasha every time I come back from spending a night with you. I don't want to answer all the questions people have when you go from friends to more. I just want us to remain in our little bubble for a while longer, before we start talking about us with the group.”

Eren turns back to face you as you finish your mini rant, and presses a shot glass into your free hand. It's pink again. Raspberry. You wordlessly accept it, and clink the glass against the one Eren holds in his hand—his is clear, likely the unflavoured version of what you're drinking.

“Cheers!” You both say, and you grimace as you swallow your second shot of the evening. Somehow it tastes even worse than the first one, and your face contorts in discomfort as the liquid runs down your throat.

You watch as Eren takes the glass from your hand, and he places both shot glasses—now empty—down behind him without looking away from you. Something stirs in your stomach, a familiar rise of want, and you try to squash it before it can take a hold of you—the last thing you need is to sneak off to some dark corner of the house and get caught making out, again.

“I'm sorry about the question.” Eren's face is flushed, whether from the alcohol or something else you're not sure, but there's a slightly guilty tone in his voice that makes you feel embarrassed for how you reacted.

“It's okay, really, I didn't mean to go so hard in that rant. Of course it's nice that people care about us, and our relationship. I just don't want to share those moments yet, those firsts, and the story of how we finally got together. I want to keep those things to myself, for us, a little while longer. You know?”

Eren nods, and silently grabs your hand, leading you towards the edge of the room, further from the music and the shouting coming from the latest round of cards against humanity—Connie's losing.

Eren brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “We're okay you know. It doesn't matter what the others think, the teasing from Jean and Connie, it's basically irrelevant. And you know they don't mean any harm by it.”

You let out a small huff, a half laugh, and Eren swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, catching a tear that you hadn't even realised you'd shed.

“It's the alcohol, I'm fine.” You say, mostly to persuade yourself. The tears surprised you, and you didn't want to make it worse by acknowledging it—the anxiety of a new relationship, the fear of ruining your friendship with Eren, the worry of making the friend group uncomfortable.

“I know you're fine.” You let out a surprised spluttery laugh as Eren wiggles his eyebrows. “But it's okay if you aren't fine. You can tell me, even if it's something silly.”

You take a breath, suddenly feeling like saying anything would be enough to cause your chest to crack wide open. Your palms are sweaty, the room is practically spinning, and your lip quivers. But your thoughts have been sat, festering in your mind for long enough, their weight pressing down on your chest. You need to set them free before they burst out of you of their own accord.

“I don't wanna touch you, in front of our friends, family, in private, whenever, if there's any possibility that this isn't going to last—that this isn't going to be serious. I'm terrified of our friendship being lost. What happens if we don't make it and then we can't be friends again?” You pause, and take a deep breath. Eren's eyes are locked onto yours, and he nods almost imperceptibly to encourage you to continue. “I don't wanna be just another one of your ex-loves that you don't wanna see. I don't wanna miss you like the other girls do. I want us to last, I love being with you and I don't want to lose that.”

Eren wordlessly brings you into his arms, securing you against his chest. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, and you can feel him gently running his thumb back and forth to help sooth you.

It's a while before Eren speaks, he weighs the options in his head, trying to decide how to phrase what he wants to say. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't had similar thoughts—ruining your friendship was not something he ever wanted to do—but he wants this. He wants you.

“I know how you feel.” You angle your head upwards to get a better look at Eren, his arms sit loosely around your waist now. “And although I’m also terrified of losing you, I don't think I want to stop dating you because of it. I'd never want that. I love that I get to see you tonight, laughing and joking with all of our friends, taking shots and dancing with Mikasa and Sasha, knowing that I get to go home with you. That at the end of the night I'm the one that you're going to be kissing. Me.” He says the last word in a whisper, almost as if he can't believe what he's saying. “You are not like anyone else I've ever dated, everything with you is different. It's more special, and I am going to do everything I can to keep you next to me for as long as possible. Does that sound good?”

You nod, and you're about to speak when Reiner runs up to you, seemingly out of breath despite only coming from the other side of the room.

“You guys good?” He doesn't wait for a response. “It's Eren’s turn in card against humanity and Connie is getting fidgety waiting—he's a terrible loser—will you be over soon?”

Eren turns to look at you, and you smile, nodding again.

“We are on our way.” Eren says, standing up straight and giving a mock salute as if this was the most urgent situation that requires the utmost seriousness.

Reiner heads back towards the table, and Eren moves to grab your hand once again. You hold him back from following Reiner, just for a second, and place your hands behind his head. You bring his lips down to meet yours, smiling ever so slightly into the kiss. He snakes his arms around your waist, and you're unable to stop yourself from giving the hair at the back of his neck a small tug. A low groan escapes his lips, but you pull away before anything more heated can happen—you know people must be watching, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the thought. But you couldn't resist.

“You're pretty cool, you know that?” You say, as you walk towards the table.

Eren smirks. “I know, but you can remind me anytime.” You roll your eyes, giving him a small shove as he pulls out a chair for you to sit on.

The two of you sit next to each other at the table, knees touching, as Connie tries round after round to play the best cards he has, desperate to win the game. (He doesn't win though, Mikasa does.)

#this is so:( soft actually #me when i have relationship anxiety but also love friends to lovers<3 #tehehe #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger fic #eren yeager fic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #sage.fics #reputation.event #eren x reader #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren yeager fanfiction #sage.event

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 18

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Trigger Warning: Mention of S.A./ Violence

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Early Terrible. That was the name of the swanky, bohemian restaurant Dr. Miller and I ended up at for dinner. When he pulled into the dirt parking lot, that was surrounded by low hanging trees, I was surprised.

“I have always wanted to check this place out,” I confessed, “I follow them on-”

“Instagram.” Dr. Miller finished my sentence. “I know. That's why I chose this place.”

I glanced over at him and just stared. “How do you know these things?”

“I'm sorry.” He stared directly at me, not rushing to get out of the car. Dr. Miller closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.. I know what I do is too much. It's probably wrong.” He opened his eyes and shook his head, “It is wrong. I shouldn't have been snooping on your social media before we started a relationship, or even now.”

I needed truths, and I knew now was a good time to get some information when Dr. Miller was voluntarily opening up. “Did you ever drive by my house? Before we really.. started all this?”

He looked me directly in the eye. “Yes.”

“More than once.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard. He looked like he was in the hot seat on trial. I had never seen him so outwardly vulnerable and easy to read.

“Why?”

His eyes continued to burn into mine. “I know the terrible people who are out there. I've seen it up close. And..” Dr. Miller shook his head. “I know this relationship is new, but with the murders on campus I've just taken it upon myself to look after you.. a little excessively.”

“Even before we were together.. if that's what we are?”

“I was immediately attracted to you,” Dr. Miller explained. “And almost right away into the semester the first woman was killed. No offense but I didn't think you'd be able to defend yourself if someone attacked you. So I just kind of.. looked after you from a distance.”

“That's a little-”

“Obsessive,” he finished and looked away. “I know. I just.. have experience with this kind of thing and I know, if I ever needed to, I could-”

“Experience with what kind of thing?”

Dr. Miller looked down toward the steering wheel and then back to me. “I have a story I'd like to tell you.. inside. It's a terrible fucking story, but it's something I want you to know. You'll probably want to run away afterwards, and I'll gladly drop you off back at your house with Tori if that's what you decide.”

“I'm not going to judge you.” I shook my head. “And if it makes you feel any better, I searched for almost an hour looking for information about you online.” I snickered. “I just couldn't find anything.” I added, “And I totally followed you from campus to the bar at the center of town. So I guess I'm just as weird.”

“I just feel very protective of you,” Dr. Miller told me.

I got goosebumps. We had only met that month and he already had this hold on me. It was a very willing hold, but it was so tense and so strong that I visibly shuddered. The connection was intense - and it was obsessively mutual.

“I want to listen to everything you have to tell me,” I explained, reaching for his hand, adding again, “I'm not going to judge you.”

His face remained serious. There was no crack of a smile. No hints of anything lighthearted or jovial. All of that disappeared when I asked him how he knew about my interest in Early Terrible.

Dr. Miller clicked open the door and I walked with him toward the restaurant. I purposely interlocked my fingers with his and he glanced over at me before looking down the rest of the way as we took the short walk inside.

The cozy, eccentric little restaurant was exactly like the pictures on their Instagram account had depicted. It was unique and dark, with leather couches and plants strung about in strategic places to create the motif they were going for. Behind a dimly lit bar with yellow flickering lanterns perched on the wall was a tree that appeared to be bursting through the wooden palettes where liquor bottles rested on shelves. 

There were chandeliers and odd shaped wooden tables, all seeming to be purposely spread apart so people could have their own private conversations.

A woman approached in a white dress with a see-through midriff and frayed sleeves with tassels. She smiled wide and adjusted a headband that matched her eccentric outfit.

“Two for tonight?” She asked.

“Please.” Dr. Miller nodded and adjusted his tie, putting a hand on my back as he encouraged me to lead the way to wherever the hostess was taking us.

We passed by other diners, who didn't so much as give a fleeting glance in our direction, before settling in at a table for two in a quiet corner of the establishment.

“The waitress will be right with you,” she informed us, handing over a set of menus before disappearing, seemingly, into the shadows.

I looked directly across at Dr. Miller and his face was pained. It looked like someone was literally stabbing him in the ribs. That's how uncomfortable he appeared. His vulnerability was freaking me out more than anything he’d revealed to me thus far.

The waitress came over and took our drink orders and then wandered off with a promise to return momentarily.

“There's been a little backstory that's kind of impacted my entire life,” Dr. Miller explained. “I haven't been completely successful with it and I've done some things I'm not particularly proud of in my lifetime.”

My hand topped his on the table, and I allowed him to continue without interruption.

“I told you I had an older sister,” he reminded me.

“Carol.” I half-smiled but let it quickly fade.

Dr. Miller finally managed a barely-there smirk. “That's right.”

The waitress returned with the set of beers we’d ordered and we decided quickly on a collection of tapas for dinner. When the waitress disappeared again, I returned my whole focus back to Dr. Miller, who took a long swig from his glass.

“I should've gotten something stronger.” He smacked his lips. “But I'm driving you, so I won't.” Dr. Miller’s thumb danced in circles over the top of mine.

“You don't have to tell me.”

“I want to.” His eyes lifted to meet mine and he swallowed hard. “Carol is six years older than me. She was a great big sister, still is.” Dr Miller smiled at the mention of her name but it quickly faded. “I, um.. when I was fourteen, she was twenty..” He scrunched his nose and I gripped his hand harder, “She was being attacked by a UPS man who had dropped off a package at our house.” He took a deep breath and looked back into my eyes, “I had been out playing ball with my friends and I just remembered her screaming for help. Our parents weren't home. It was the summer. They were at work, she was home from college. I was about to enter my freshman year of high school.”

“Oh, Joel..” I shook my head, naturally addressing him by his first name for the first time.

“I had a baseball bat in my hand and she was screaming for help.. crying a little bit.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard and I saw his eyes tear up as he spoke. “So, I hit him. And I hit him again.. and again.. and again.”

All I could do was listen. I didn't dare try to interrupt or idiotically tell him it was okay, or that I understood. I didn't. I couldn't imagine the trauma that lingered from everything Dr. Miller was explaining to me.

“He died from his injuries.” He wiped a stray tear that managed to escape the duct of his left eye. “We moved away not long after that. I went to a high school where no one knew me. My parents did the best they could for us. I had to sit on trial and answer questions. Lawyers tried to make it sound like I was some maniac.. but the jury found me not guilty of every charge they tried to bring me up on.”

I was speechless. I almost wished he’d saved it for behind closed doors so I could comfort him properly. What was I supposed to say? I had no words.

“I'm so sorry.” That was all that came to mind and it felt so lame. “I can't imagine what you must have gone through.” My second hand fell over the top of his.

“I'll never forget the details of that day. I think Carol was even scared of me for a while.  She’d never admit it and adamantly denies it now. But I don't blame her.” Dr. Miller looked off to the side, catching his breath and letting out a long, expressive exhale. “In time I think it brought us closer. And my parents did what they thought was right by moving us away from all the drama, and the looks and the constant questions. Some people thought I was crazy, others would pat me on the back and call me a hero. Both equally made me feel like shit for some reason. But as I got older, I realized that there was one less piece of shit on this earth because of what I did. He wouldn't be able to hurt someone else - and that helped me at least sleep at night.”

Dr. Miller scoffed and shook his head, almost appearing as if he was trying to convince himself of the next part. “I stopped him. He could still be out there today hurting other young women.” He took a sip from his beer and nearly finished it on a single guzzle.

“It's so unfair,” I finally said. “For you to have to go through that.. and at fourteen years old.” My mind couldn't even accurately comprehend what he had just told me.

“It's still better than what Carol had to go through.”

“I'm sorry.” My hand ran partially up his sleeve and back down. “I shouldn't have pried. You probably didn't want to rehash such a terrible memory.”

“You didn't pry,” Dr. Miller said, “I pried.. into your life. You just asked me why. And this is why. This is what I meant when I said I've seen this up close.”

“Have you talked to anyone about all of this?” I asked. “Professionally?”

He nodded. “It's helped. I just have very low tolerance for that sort of thing. And Alec Pryor was just another predator. He's no different than any of the others. I looked into you initially because of my interest, and then I went overboard when I thought you could be in some lunatic’s crosshairs.”

“You don't think this guy ever targeted me, specifically, do you?” The question suddenly popped into my mind.

“No, not particularly,” Dr. Miller added. “But I didn't want to take a chance.”

“Why me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you choose me? Of everyone in your life. Of all the women you could try to protect from.. the world. Why me?”

Dr. Miller stared at me intently and then finally shook his head. “I don't really have an explanation. It's just been.. a feeling. I shouldn't have even pursued you, being a student in my class.”

“I'm twenty-seven,” I reminded him.

“It doesn't matter.” Dr. Miller shook his head, “Like I said, I've done some things that aren't right. I shouldn't have entertained this. I shouldn't have followed you. I shouldn't have done any of the things I've done since I've met you.”

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the disappointment. For Dr. Miller to tell me it wasn't right for us to be together and that this was over. I didn't want him to have a sudden change of heart.

“But I can't stand being more than ten feet away from you,” he went on, making all of my instant anxiety subside. “And I’m praying that my story didn't scare you enough to make you want to run away. I know this sounds like a line and we haven't been together for long but I have never felt so organically connected to another woman in my life. And I've never told that story to anyone else.. not since I moved away in ninth grade.”

Why me? I still didn't know why Dr. Miller felt the way he did about me, or even why he trusted me so quickly; but I would never spill his secrets, and I would never outcast him or brand him as something terrible over what happened in his childhood. I also wasn't about to question what it was about me that drew him in. From my own perspective, I was just an average chick trying to figure out life. I had nothing over the top going for me, though I wasn't exactly unsuccessful either. I was average, at least in my eyes. Dr. Miller had this natural allure that pulled me in. I knew other students felt a fraction of that magnetism, too, and I could tell by Tori’s first expression when he walked through the door that she felt it. I didn't have that type of hold on people, and I knew it. So, I couldn't help but mentally beg the same question over and over. Why me?

“Why don't we get our meals to go?” I suggested. Immediately I could see a solemn expression plague his features and I was more specific about my intentions. “Not so I can go home. So we can go home.”

I rose to my feet and rounded the small, wooden table, positioning myself on Dr. Miller’s lap. I cradled his head against my chest and held him there.

“You've been taking care of me,” I reminded him. “Now, let me take care of you.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #joel x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x fem reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro #pedro pascal photoshoot #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x fem reader

[koy6na]

boy next door

“i guess you’re really the slut everyone says you are. that’s okay though, i kinda like that about you.”

shigaraki x fem reader

tags: loss of virginity, dubcon, paizuri, oral

being forced by your mom to befriend your neighbor’s weird kid is the worst thing to happen to you in a long time. you’ve always known shimura, the two of you had basically grown up together however, you were never close. you’d always been surrounded by friends or boys and he’d be alone, kicking the sand or doing something weird. it wasn’t until your mom caught you and your most recent fling laying horizontal on your bed, with his hands under your shirt, that she became dead set on fixing your behavior. she knew that tenko did good in school, but it was mostly because he had no social life. the guy was a practically a shut-in. 

tenko appeared at your front door, accompanied by his mother, who was holding a basket of fruit as a gift for spending time with her son today. your mom had relayed the plan for today, she would go to the pachinko parlor for a few hours with shimura’s mom while the two of you hung out at your house. you glanced at shimura with a fake, but friendly smile. he doesn’t react. 

“ok! we’re gonna head out so why don’t you two make a bowl of popcorn and watch a movie or something!” your mom’s shrill voice rang in your ears as you mentally rolled you eyes. shimura was wearing a black hoodie with dark wash jeans. the hood covered his head while his pale blue hair hid his eyes. he just looked like the type of guy who’d be ecstatic over this situation. as if any girl would willingly hang out with this creep. the truth is you’d caught shimura looking up your skirt a few times at school. you’d be lying if you said that didn’t get you going a little, having some creep probably jack off to your cotton panties, but inviting him over to watch movies in your room was something that you would’ve never willingly done. 

yet here he was, sitting on your bed watching some netflix movie you had randomly put on. when you asked shimura what movie he wanted to watch he shrugged and started unzipping his hoodie. his long sleeve shirt lay just under his collarbones, giving you a clean look at the defined divots. the film was dragging on, every moment was predictable. you paused the movie abruptly and scooted over to shimura’s side of the bed. “you don’t actually wanna be here, do you?” your eyebrows lifted as you asked him. he turned his head slightly to face you. “of course not, you think i really wanted to sit in your room and watch rom-coms for three hours?” his tone is flat. you laugh as you tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “why don’t we do something fun then?” you smile at him, genuinely this time. his face still doesn’t change. “like what?” 

you lean back on your left hand and undo the first button on your shirt. “like...i’ll let you touch my tits.” 

his eyes widen, you can actually see the deep red of his pupils hiding beneath his hair. “r-really? you’re really gonna let me?” his voice is different now. he’s still quiet but the excitement in his voice is hard to miss. you smirk, “yeah, i’ll really let you touch ‘em.” as you unbutton the rest of you shirt, shimura has turned to completely face you, crimson eyes stare intently at your chest. when your lace bra comes into view, his tongue darts out to hydrate his bottom lip. he reaches a hand out to thumb the thin material. he swallows thickly. “can you take this off for me?” his voice quivers. you remove your blouse as well as the pretty black bra you may or may not have purposely put on in case something like this might have happened. 

his eyes are on your naked chest now. “can you play with them first?” his question startles you. it surprised you that he would wanna see you touch yourself before him after his eager reaction to your suggestion. “sure.” you pinch your right nipple as your left hand grabs the skin of your left tit. shimura licks his lips again. his hand reaches out to press his index finger into your nipple. a poke turns into a pinch which turns into a greedy grope. his breathing is ragged and you can see his erection through the material of his jeans. both of his rugged hands are on the soft flesh of your breasts. you whimper softly at the feeling and he takes notice of what feels good and what doesn’t. 

suddenly, he reaches a hand behind your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. his tongue immediately slips in, it’s so wet and messy and so hot, unlike all the bland, boring makeout sessions you’ve had with other guys in this very room. you try to pull away but the intensity of his mouth on yours reels you in, along with his moans. all you’re doing is kissing and he’s moaning like a girl. it makes your body get all hot and tingly. your hand reaches for his pants zipper but he pushes you down onto the bed, straddling you. shimura pulls away to take a good long look at you, tits out, face red from the lack of oxygen his kiss just gave you. he palms his crotch as he gazes over every inch of your body. when he pulls out his cock it’s practically crying. the amount of precum leaking from his tip drips hot splotches on your stomach. 

“i wanna fuck those pretty tits, ok?” his voice is different again. this time it’s greedy. he settles right beneath your chest, dick stroking slowly. he pushes your tits together around his pulsing cock. his hips thrust aggressively against you. your tongue darts out to kiss the tip as it bump against your mouth. shimura’s moans are loud and needy, it makes your cunt weep. “i fucking love these tits. i fucking love you.” his eyes roll back into his head as he grinds his tip into your tongue. “fuck, can i fuck your pussy too? i swear i’ll pull out.”

he slides off your soiled panties, holding them up and getting a good look at the translucent fabric. “geez, you’re practically beggin me to fill you up, huh?” now you’re embarrassed. shimura’s not like other guys you’ve been with. they’re all greedy and nasty but shimura’s not afraid to show it, and that part of him makes him so much more desirable because you know how much he’s enjoying himself right now. he pockets your panties and rubs his leaky tip through your folds. the head of his dick snags your clit, sending shivers through your body. he’s taking his time rubbing himself along the outside of your cunt. “can you just put it in already?” he was right, you are begging for him. tenko laughs, “i guess you’re really the slut everyone says you are. that’s okay though, i kinda like that about you.” you scowl but loosen up once his tip prods your entrance. he kisses you sloppily one last time before thrusting his dick into you.

he’s so rough and his inexperience is showing through his erratic rhythm. his head is buried into the crook of your neck, he’s moaning into your ear, filling your head and making you weak. for a weird guy he has such pretty moans. his pace is slowing as he becomes surprisingly gentle. he’s kissing your neck and it starts to feel like the two of you are having more than a quick hookup. you know it’s not like that but when he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes are narrowed and his mouth is slightly agape, small moans and curses are falling right out. it’s making your face burn.

“you feel so good. it’s ok if i do it inside right? please. please.” he’s babbling as his dick twitches inside you. you know he’s about to cum even before he starts begging. “you said you’d pull out.” you whisper against his lips. “but you feel so good. come on, it’s just once. don’t worry i’ll fuck it right back out of you.” he smirks as he quickens his pace. your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, bringing his hips closer to yours despite your protest to his pleas. he’s deepstroking so intensely you can practically feel his tip kissing your womb. 

“fuck, gonna cum. let me see those pretty tits again.” he flattens his tongue against your sensitive nipple as his hot cum spurts inside your aching cunt. you snake a hand between your bodies and rub your clit, trying to follow his orgasm. tenko quickly replaces your hand with his, he rubs your clit with his thumb so slow yet so good. you’re cumming within seconds. you’re moaning his name as he finishes you off with his fingers. before you know it he’s kissing you again with the same greedy attitude as the times before. when he reaches down for your clit again you toss your head back. “i fucking love this pussy.” he says while kissing down your throat, leaving small hickies on your collarbones. his lips are at your stomach now and he leaves a kiss under your belly button. and then another underneath that one, and before you know it his tongue is lapping up your arousal. he’s about to go deeper until you hear the sound of the front door open. 

you quickly meet his eyes while hopping up to get dressed before your mom sees the two of you. you’re hastily buttoning your top when you notice tenko propped up on one elbow, pants still unzipped, staring at the length of your skirt. “what are you doing? my mom is gonna be in here any second.” you try whispering but your frustration comes through louder. he rolls his eyes and begins buttoning his jeans. you’re leaning over your desk, looking in the mirror trying to fix your hair and smudged mascara when you feel tenko kneeling behind you. you can also hear the sound of your mom’s footsteps on the stairs. “get the fuck up. do you want to get ca-” you gasp when you feel his tongue against your cunt again. you close your eyes feeling his hot mouth against your clit. his hands come up to put your lace panties back on, the ones he stole off you earlier. “thought i should give these back before your mom sees what’s leftover from what we did earlier.” he gets back up to turn the movie back on, leaving your legs shaking from his teasing. 

you’re about to turn around to reprimand him but your mom walks in. her eyes look around the room and she smiles. “i’m glad the two of you are getting along. tenko, your mom is waiting for you. thanks for spending the day with my daughter she could really use a good influence.” he smirks at her words of grattitude. “please, it was my pleasure.” 

#tenko shimura #shigaraki #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #tenko smut #tenko shimura smut #shimura tenko smut #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki smut #mha smut #mha x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #mha #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #my hero academia x reader

[viridianevergarden]

In Spite of it All (Part I)

A/N: I’ve been cooking again I fear. A new little fic I have made that will have multiple parts. I don’t know how many lol. The plan is for it to be Dual POV between Elriel. I hope you enjoy my madness.

Summary: Since Nyx’s birth, Elain has put herself forward as the family dinner cook as of late. Through the course of her long day’s work to prepare dinner for her loved ones, something unexpected happens.

Word Count: 5.7K

Key: sfw, Hurt/Comfort

Possible triggers: Not much, really. This one’s safe.

It was a family dinner night. A night that Elain had always looked forward to nowadays. Since Nyx’s birth, the occasional group dinners became more frequent. A few days a week where everyone in the Inner Circle gathered under the roof of the townhouse to laugh and dine together, and of course, to see precious Nyx.

And being one that enjoyed cooking and baking as much as she did, Elain had made an obligation out of it as she always had.

On days like this, she had to wake up early to begin preparations and plans in the kitchen. To decide what was on the menu for everyone and to set everything in motion, all for dinner to be finished at a reasonable time.

Ever the supporters they were, the wraith twins, Nuala and Cerridwen had also involved themselves in the hard work, claiming that a friend doesn’t perform that immense of a task all alone. Even if it was their job to help out in general just as they always had, Elain couldn’t find it in herself to thank them enough every single time. And so Elain spent most of the day in the kitchen busying herself with the twins by her side.

Here she stood, as she had been since dawn, flouring and kneading dough on the kitchen island. Elain kneaded the bread dough silently, focused entirely on her work. Nuala and Cerridwen were on the other side of the kitchen working on their own sides that they tasked themselves with.

Press and fold, press and fold, press and fold—

The words repeated in Elain’s mind as she worked, though she failed to realize that Nuala had called her name. Called her name again. Again.

“Elain?” A shadowy hand touched her flour-covered forearm. Elain flinched slightly, looking over at Nuala with wide eyes.

Her breath caught and then she swallowed in recognition. “Oh– Sorry, I was a little too focused. Yes?”

Cerridwen angled her head from afar, listening in silently as she whisked a pan of cooking lemon curd for one of the cakes that were to be made.

“Are you alright?” The half wraith gave her a comforting smile, minding none of the flour that now covered her hand.

“I am,” Elain reassured her with a smile of her own. “Was there something you needed?”

Nuala shook her head. “I was just checking in on you. Your face looked… Troubled.”

“I promise I’m alright, thank you for asking.” Elain beamed another smile at her before getting back to her kneading.

The twins exchanged a quiet look between one another when Nuala turned around. Elain had guessed that they didn’t believe her, though she wasn’t going to attempt to reinforce her claim.

Truth be told, news had indeed put a damper on Elain’s mood today. Feyre had forewarned that Lucien was coming to dinner tonight, just for the night. Per Feyre’s own request, she had guessed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t before, especially since he first showed up in the Night Court but—

Her beloved sister’s persistence had always troubled her. Regardless of what Elain had said in the past, what she had declared and tried so hard to make clear in the kindest way she knew how, she— they both persisted through it all in some weird hopeful way.

Perhaps it was because Elain didn’t understand. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she hadn’t experienced the magical level of love or the ultimate correctness that her sisters had felt with their mates yet.

The circumstances had made her question, well, everything. Question why her bond had snapped into place so suddenly. Questioned why the sensations were merely akin to a tug on a rib. Questioned the—

Visions suddenly flit through Elain’s mind, cascading across her vision and echoing in her ears.

Clock hands striking an hour before midnight, the groaning of wood, the deafening shatter of glass, the loud cries of an infant, the feelings of fear and confusion, panic and anxiety—

And then they were gone as fast as they came.

Elain’s movements slowed to a stop, her hands merely falling to rest on the floured wood surface. More damning visions that haunted her. But these— These were extreme.

The female quickly finished kneading the dough before placing it into a large glass bowl and covering it in order to allow it to rise. She then cleaned her hands at the sink and took off her apron to set aside.

“I’ll be right back.” The twins blinked at one another before giving Elain the okay. She then hurried out of the kitchen, beelining for the nearest bathroom.

Elain closed the bathroom door behind her and took a deep breath, focusing entirely on the intricately designed black and white tiled floor.

Nearly all of Elain’s visions were disturbing in some way. They had always foretold all sorts of things, be they as serious as an attack or as minor as who would show up at the townhouse. Even in her dreams, they plagued her. But this vision had seemed— Elain knew that it foretold something happening within the townhouse. An infant’s cry— Nyx. Baby Nyx.

Not her nephew. Her precious nephew. If any harm came to him, to Feyre, anyone here— She had to tell them, Rhysand and Feyre.

Elain pushed herself off of the rich wood door, stepping forward to look herself over in the mirror. She was a mess, or so she thought to herself.

Her hair was messily braided off to the side, the length of the braid ending at her hip. Her bangs were no better, messy as they were, barely hanging on to where they were tucked behind her pointed ears.

Flour had also somehow ended up dusted on her cheek, though that came as no surprise to her. Such things always happened when she was absorbed into her craft.

She let out a quiet sigh and took a few minutes to clean herself up and look presentable, although she knew she was bound to get messy again, possibly even more so later on.

As soon as they arrived, she’d decided, Elain would let Feyre and Rhysand know what she saw. At the very least, they should know.

Taking one last deep breath to calm herself, she walked back out of the bathroom and returned to the kitchen to continue her work. After all, there was much for her to do. Even if disturbing sights haunted her every move.

~ ~ ~

Read the rest on here (AO3)

Check out my other Elriel oneshot (AO3)

#acotar #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #elriel fic #a court of thorns and roses

[laundrybiscuits]

(continued from this snippet)

“You could—” Jonathan moves his hands through the air like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra.

“I don’t know what that means,” Eddie tells him. They’ve been smoking all afternoon, so Jonathan’s even more of a space case than usual.

“He means you could pretend, dude,” says Argyle, who is putting little braids into Eddie’s hair. It’s very soothing. “Like, fake it ‘til you make it.”

“I mean. It would be good for Will to see, like…happily ever after. But gay. You know?” Jonathan tips the last of the Dorito crumbs into his mouth and contemplates the empty bag with devastatingly sorrowful eyes.

“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” says Eddie. “Congrats, by the way, because I’ve heard a lot of bad ideas in my time, and I thought I knew all the major contestants. But lo and behold, dark horse Byers swoops in to steal the crown! The crowd goes wild.” He makes a raspy aaaaaah sound and wiggles his fingers to symbolize a packed stadium at the Bad Idea Olympic Games.

“That’s my boy,” says Argyle, reaching over to ruffle Jonathan’s hair. “Great job, brochacho.”

Eddie’s never totally sure whether Argyle’s doing an extended bit or not, and it’s the fucking best.

“So, you’ll do it?” Jonathan asks hopefully. He’s like a puppy dog, the way he perks up.

“Fuck no,” says Eddie. “Absolutely not under any circumstances. Fuck off.”

“Dude, I totally respect that,” says Argyle, starting on another braid. “Gotta honor your truth, Ed-head. Can’t shine a hella dope light from a flashlight powered by lie-batteries.”

“Every day I thank a god I don’t believe in for your presence in my life,” Eddie informs him.

———

Annoyingly, Jonathan doesn’t give up on the idea. What’s worse, he tries to be sneaky about it.

Eddie rolls up late to the next movie night, because he’s not always great with things like having a basic understanding of time and space. When he walks into the Byers-Hopper living room, Jonathan calls out, “Eddie, hey! There’s—you can sit here on the couch if you want. By Steve.”

Eddie gives him an unimpressed look. Jonathan doesn’t even have the decency to be phased by Eddie’s scorn, just shifts over to make room on the couch between him and Steve.

“Aww,” coos Eddie. “Did you miss me that much, Johnny-boy?” He drops right into Jonathan’s lap, slinging an arm around his neck.

“Why are you so heavy,” says Jonathan. “You look like if a stick figure had a baby with a mop.”

Eddie cackles. “It’s all the heavy metal. Weighs down my soul with whips and chains and demonic energy.”

“Jeez, you two, get a room.” Steve rolls his eyes.

The look of pure panic that crosses Jonathan’s face is pretty hilarious, all things considered.

“I’m not gay!” Jonathan blurts out. “Not that there would be—anything wrong with it. If I were. Because, um, gay people deserve love too. Because they’re just like us. I mean, people who aren’t gay. Which is me. I’m not. But it would be okay if I was.”

Will looks like he wants a rift to swallow him up where he sits, but Eddie thinks he looks a little bit pleased, too. It’s nice that Jonathan is trying so hard, even if Eddie has one or two notes on the execution.

“Okay, big guy,” says Eddie, patting Jonathan on the cheek. “Don’t have to throw a parade about it or anything.”

The movie’s okay, Eddie guesses. It’s Nancy’s pick, which means it’s a fast-talking political thriller that nobody but Robin can ever really follow. Afterwards, Steve leans over to him and says, “Hey, are you still out of Coke? I can pick some up on my way over after I drop Dustin off.”

Will gives Eddie a look, which is totally unjustified because this is a completely normal friend thing. Steve’s parents are in town, so he’s been spending a few nights camping out at Eddie’s, because everyone else has parents who’d probably object. It’s perfectly logical and completely normal. It’s not like he can bunk with Robin. Also, Robin kicks like a horse in her sleep.

But even though Eddie knows it’s a completely normal friend thing, he can also kind of see why Will might’ve gotten the wrong idea.

“Um,” he says. “Actually, maybe—not tonight? I just, Wayne’s been wanting to spend some more, like, uncle-nephew quality bonding time. You know he’s still kind of…” Eddie shrugs, grimacing. It’s true; Wayne’s been making a real effort to know what Eddie’s up to these days. Even though he hasn’t said anything, Eddie knows he’s traded some shifts to make their schedules line up a little better. So, everything Eddie’s saying is absolutely true and above-board, and there’s no reason for a weird squirmy guilty feeling to take up residence in his gut.

“Oh,” says Steve. “Sure, yeah, no problem.”

(ETA: yeah okay it's technically a series now)

#I KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT CONTINUATION pls do not perceive me and my clownshoes proclamations #sometimes I do just say some bullshit and I refuse to be held accountable for it #I just realized I've never written the Cali crew and wanted to give it a go #that being said I def do not have a handle on Jonathan's voice but alas I am not in the mood to rewatch ST so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #I do feel like Eddie and Argyle would either manifest matching BFF necklaces within five minutes #or be magnetically repelled by opposing vibes #like either they get each other on an astral level or they cannot communicate at all #this is pre-jargyle btw #fic: young man what do you wanna be

[renecdote]

I and love and you

Set post In Another Life so y'know. Spoilers ahead.

[Read on AO3]

The first SOS text comes two days after Buck is released from the hospital: help they’re driving me crazy. Eddie squints at it, waiting for more, and when it doesn’t come, he skips replying and hits call.

“Hey,” Buck answers, and he’s trying so hard to sound upbeat, but Eddie knows him well enough to hear the cracks.

“Hey,” he echoes, and it comes out softer than he means it to. “Your parents?”

The snick of a door closing—the balcony, Eddie guesses—and the scrape of a chair before Buck says, “Ugh. My parents.”

Eddie pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, then pulls out his own chair, making himself comfortable at the kitchen table while they talk.

“It was nice,” Buck adds, before Eddie can prompt him. “At first, I mean. They were… concerned, I guess. I mean, I know they were.”

Eddie hums. He thinks this is the part where he’s supposed to say, “of course they were concerned, they’re your parents,” but he doesn’t. They both know he wouldn’t really mean it.

“Buying me a couch is one thing,” Buck goes on, and Eddie gets halfway to wait, what— but he’s already moving on. “But I woke up this morning and mom was rearranging my closet? She said she wanted the clothes to be easier for me to reach, but it’s a closet, Eddie, isn’t the whole point that the clothes are already in reach?”

It’s too easy to picture Buck when he has just woken up, bleary eyed and fluffy haired, squinting against the morning sunlight because he always forgets to close the blinds. Probably pillow creases on his face too, whatever hoodie he wore to bed twisted up around him, one sock lost somewhere down the end of the bed. That little scrunch between his eyebrows that Eddie used to imagine reaching across the pillow to smooth away in those long months of quarantine. That he still imagines smoothing away some mornings, when he gets up and finds Buck still asleep on the couch because he didn’t want to drive home the night before.

“Rearranging your closet does seem a little overkill,” he agrees, probably a beat too late.

“It’s not just that,” Buck complains. “It’s everything. My meds, the food I eat—even when I got up to go to the bathroom earlier, they both tried to help me, like I can’t walk across my own apartment without collapsing or something.”

It’s too easy to picture that too: Buck collapsing. Buck not breathing. Buck’s heart not beating. Eddie swallows, then swallows again, holding his coffee mug tight against a rush of cold that makes him shiver.

“Why don’t I come pick you up?” he offers, and he doesn’t care if it’s selfish. “I’m sure Chris would love to see you when he gets home from school.”

There’s a smile breaking through the tiredness in Buck’s voice when he asks, “Just Chris?”

They used to joke like this. Eddie knows what his line is supposed to be, knows how he’s supposed to carry the joke, but that was before. Before Buck got struck by lightning, before his heart stopped beating, before Eddie cried over his hospital bed while Chris begged him to wake up.

“I’d love to see you too,” he says, and it feels like too much truth and not enough at the same time. It’s I and love and you, but they’re not fit together the way he wants them to be. The way he means them but can’t bring himself to say.

He wonders if Buck hears it anyway, with the way his voice catches before he replies, “I’d love to see you too.”

They stood on top of the fire engine together once, braced against wind and speed as they tried to catch a man hanging from a plane. Eddie still remembers the way the adrenaline tasted, the way they grinned at each other, the way he knew that Buck would catch him if he fell. He could fall now, he thinks, and Buck would catch him. Buck will always catch him.

But not today. Probably not tomorrow either. They still have time.

Eddie stands and pours his mostly untouched coffee down the sink.

“I can be there in twenty,” he says. “You can tell your parents you’ve got a better offer for the afternoon.”

Buck laughs, then groans. “Ouch. Don’t make me laugh.”

“It’s not my fault you think I’m funny,” Eddie answers, and it’s easier this time, to joke the way they always have. To hear Buck breathing on the other end of the line and take his own breath to match.

“I never said you were funny,” Buck protests, but he’s still smiling. Grinning, probably.

Eddie takes a second to close his eyes and picture it—Buck grinning, Buck breathing, Buck alive—then he grabs his keys and heads for the door.

He doesn’t hang up.

Buck doesn’t hang up either, even when he gets too tired to talk.

For the twenty minutes across town, Eddie listens to the sound of his best friend breathing, and the muted sounds of LA traffic in the background, and something else. Something that might be the sound of the wind whistling four stories up, or might be nothing at all.

“I’m here,” he says when he is pulling into a parking spot.

And Buck says, “okay, see you in a minute,” but he still doesn’t hang up the phone until Eddie is knocking on the apartment door. He’s pretty sure that doesn’t mean nothing. He’s pretty sure that, if he asked, it might mean everything.

(I and love and you, fit together in all the ways he wants them to be.)

But not today. Probably not tomorrow either.

They still have time.

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #911 Spoilers #fic

[revasserium]

Can you do #154 with Hoshiumi or Bokuto ❤️🥺

send me a prompt and a character, and i'll write you a drabble (or ukno, like a 2k fuckin fic)

154. Leap into my arms @thisbicc

diving into the wreck

bokuto; 1,815 words; angst in the beginning, but its honestly more hurt/comfort, and the ending is fluffy ;) ish.

he is a volcano, he is a thunderstorm — he is every natural disaster poets have ever tried to tame with language and still, the truth remains — bokuto koutarou is a force of nature. but the thing about natural disasters is that they end. they pass and, like shooting stars, all that remains is the wreckage they’ve left behind, the imprint of light across a moonless night.

“losing isn’t everything, y’know.”

you run a hand down the curved planes of his back, trying to sooth the tantrum building just beneath the surface.

“it is! and you know it is! you just — you just don’t know how it feels! you don’t know anything!”

the words seep through the house, oozing blood like an open wound, soaking the carpets and weighing down the curtains, staining them till neither of you are sure what color they used to be when you first got them.

(”look! look! these are on sale! and they’re the design i like!” “ah, well if they’re the design you like, then i guess we gotta get ‘em, huh?” “oh shut up, you big goofball.”)

you pull back your hand and sigh.

“you’re right… i don’t know how it feels to lose like you do but —” you bite down hard on your lips, swallowing down the words —

i know how it feels to lose you.

he looks up, his expression desperate. he wants to reach out, to pull you close to say no, i didn’t mean that or no, i’m sorry, let’s get some icream or some popcorn or some new damn curtains but he looks away instead.

(”how do you jump so high?” “huh? me? oh… uh… well, i mean… i just kinda do it… i guess.” “but… aren’t you afraid you’re gonna fall and hurt yourself?” “nah. like, the floor’s not goin’ anywhere, y’know?”)

“bokuto… i — i think i’m gonna go stay with a friend for a while.”

bokuto feels the world press in, the walls inching towards him, the ceiling pressing down. he wants to curl in on himself till there’s nothing left, he wants to crush you to him, to hold you so tightly you become a part of him but his body won’t move. his lips are still. and there’s a part of him that wonders if he does this to himself just so he’ll have something to fight for.

because the truth is — he doesn’t know how else to love you.

he doesn’t know how else to love but like this — with no training wheels, with his eyes closed and fists clenched and wild hope pounding in his heart. and he knows he’s not good at this — he’s never been all too good at this but he never thought it would hurt — he never knew that the floor could disappear from beneath his feet and that sometimes, just sometimes, you really should look before you leap but…

“for… for how long?” he asks.

“i… i’m not sure yet but… i think —” you take a breath like gasping for air in a vacuum-sealed space, “i think it’d be good for us,” another heaving breath.

“some time… apart.”

bokuto feels the air leave the room like a scolded child, slipping away through the opened doorway, disappearing into the darkness of the hall. he tries to breathe and finds that he doesn’t quite remember how.

(”so… its like a trust exercise. with the floor.” “w-wha?? you still talkin’ about jumping?” “yeah! like… in order to jump that high, you gotta trust that the floor will be there to catch you, right?”)

“okay.”

the word burns through him, a comet with a too-long tail, singeing his tongue. it tastes like cinder and smoke and all the words he never had the courage to say out loud.

“okay,” you echo, with a tiny little nod.

he feels the ground beneath him crack and crumble, and for the first time in his life, bokuto is afraid of falling.

“i…” he nearly chokes on the word, but he forces himself to his feet, his fists balled at his sides. like this, he towers over you, like this, he’s a huge, imposing thing, but like this — he feels the smallest he’s ever been.

i’m sorry.

“i love you,” he says, finally. after a long-held breath.

you look up at him with wide, sad eyes and after a moment, you let out a small laugh. it shakes your shoulders and breaks something inside him. because this, at least, he knows to be true. he might not be good at it but he knows that he loves you. he loves you strong, and he loves you hard.

he loves you like a thunderstorm might love a lightning sea, too much salt, and not enough water —

“yeah…” you say, “yeah… i know.”

(”ahh… there’s no fixin’ that, is there?” “what, the dish you broke cause you put it in the dishwasher wrong? nope. don’t think so.” “mm… but what if we keep it anyway?” “aww, you big baby, i always knew you were the sentimental type.”)

you run a hand through your hair, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a deep, heavy sigh.

slowly, the air trickles back into the room.

“let’s go swimming,” he says. and you look up, all sadness gone and replaced by confusion, but bokuto is smiling, a hopeful, indulgent sort of thing.

“what, right now?” you blink at him. he rocks on the balls of his feet.

“yeah. right now.”

for a second, you narrow your eyes, for a second, you wonder what this might be about. but years with bokuto has taught you that there are moments where you don’t ask why or when or how. it is only the who that matters — and it has always been him.

the pool is closed but bokuto manages to find the key tucked in the gym manager’s drawer and you bite back an exasperated sigh as he unlocks the door and lets you both in. there’s a triumphant smile on his lips and you can’t help but laugh. when he cannonballs into the water, whooping out in joy, you stand by the poolside and watch him — and for a second everything is fine. for second, everything is forgotten — all the big fights, all the long nights, all the things neither of you really meant to say — washed away by the chlorine-scented water dripping down the length of his spine.

“c’mon! come in! the water’s great!”

bokuto motions for you to join him, and you only hesitate for a second before pulling off your shirt and slipping into the cool, temperature controlled water. you let yourself sink beneath the surface and you feel the world above you slip away.

you open your eyes to find bokuto there, right in front of you, his eyes just as wide open as yours. his lips are moving, bubbles streaming from his mouth as he speaks but you shake your head, feeling the laughter curling up within you.

“b-bokuto — i can’t hear anything you’re saying!”

you break the surface and reach out to pull him up. but he only shakes his head and drags you under again. you shake your head too, about to break away when you see him mouthing the words —

i’m sorry.

don’t leave me.

you still, and for a moment, you both hang there, suspended by the weight of water, the sheer lack of air. and for once, bokuto is thankful for it.

(”i — i’m not that sentimental! i just… i like holding onto broken things, sometimes.” “bokuto… but… we can just get a new dish —” “no, like… i just think… that it’s worth a try is all.”)

this time, when you break the surface, bokuto comes up with you, gasping for air like a drowning man. he takes you by the arms and shakes you, ever so slightly. water droplets cling to his hair like gemstones, glittering in the refracted blue lights.

“we — we’re not broken,” he says, his voice a bit waterlogged, his chest heaving like some great beached whale, fighting for every breath, for every word.

you purse your lips, a wave of something cresting inside your chest.

he gives you another shake.

“and… and even if we are…” he gulps, “i — i think we’re worth fixing.”

you let out a tiny sob, the hot prickling behind your eyes bursting out in a maelstrom of salt and water and bokuto holds you at arm’s length and lets you cry. he lets you scream and struggle and tell him all the things you’d never have told him otherwise.

he takes it the best he can. he weathers the storm. he waits it out like a patient beach, knowing that eventually, the tide will recede. that eventually, even a hurricane will blow through it’s course.

“i’m sorry,” he says, finally, when you’ve cried yourself out, still hiccupping with his hands on either side of your arms, both your fingers pruning in the water.

“y-you better be.”

bokuto laughs, nodding, finally pulling you in for a kiss.

“i am… and… i’m sorry that i’m so bad at apologizing.”

you let out a watery laugh and make a half-hearted attempt to splash him.

“as long as you don’t make a habit of breaking into the gym pool at midnight just to say sorry.”

“i dunno, it’s kinda nice though, isn’t it?”

“what, a midnight dip? i guess it is…”

for a moment, the both of you are quiet. and you both know this isn’t the end, that there are still words to be said, new curtains to buy, old dishes to mend.

“hey, wanna try something?” bokuto’s voice is hopeful, but as you turn to look at him, you allow yourself another smile. because isn’t this what you fell in love with in the first place? the highs and the lows, the sunlight days and the stormy nights.

“sure, what do you wanna try?”

bokuto points at the diving board hanging over the deep end of the pool with a wide, wayward grin.

you hike your eyebrows.

“c’mon! try it! i’ll catch you!”

trust me.

you hesitate for a moment longer before swimming to the edge and heaving yourself out of the water. bokuto whoops as you walk onto the diving board and look over the edge.

he opens his arms and waits for you.

you take a breath, and —

you jump.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu drabbles #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou imagines #bokuto koutarou scenarios #bokuto koutarou fanfic #haikyuu angst #bokuto angst #angst mcgee #floofy floof floof #haiCUTIES #OKAY OKAY LISTEN LOOK LISTEN L I S T E N #i knOW we all like to think of bokuto as a giant talented goofball but like #his manic-emo modes made me think of how it would extrapolate into a relationship and i mean nOT TOO GREAT is the answer to that but #we're all super flawed and we all say things we dont meant esp in the heat of the moment and i think #bokuto would be ONE OF THOSE PPL but like as his s/o u probably know that too! #and rly its how quickly he picks himself back up that matters the most like... he's learning!! and hes trying!! #and that's what matters!!! Right?? #i feel like i keep on writing like... disserations in my tags LOL do yALL EVEN READ THESE. PLS LEAVE A COMMENT/MESSAGE IF U DO