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ariaste · 9 months

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The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2

(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code And Have You Dead To Rights*) (*Maybe)

***

Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off.

Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse?

Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended

In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB--

Proem

A dark theater. The rustling of the audience: clothes, breathing, whispers of anticipation. The lights come up. A man enters, stage left. He is a magician—a master magician—and he performs for you a magic trick so good and so subtle... that you don’t even notice you’ve seen it.

You know there must have been a trick—after all, you came to the theater to see a trick performed, didn’t you? And he claims to be a magician. So there had to be a trick somewhere. There had to be.

But maybe there wasn’t. Maybe there was just a man on a stage, talking to you, telling you a story with a strangely unsatisfying ending you didn’t quite understand.

I know. This is a weird beginning to an analysis essay. But hear me out, because I have to explain the mechanisms of the stage before I can show you what the trick was, where the trapdoor was hidden, and how Neil Gaiman pulled the whole thing off so gently and elegantly that you didn’t notice a thing. Ready? Here we go.

The Facts As We Know Them

Let us begin by establishing a baseline—some fundamental, logical assumptions that underpin the magic trick. These will seem obvious as soon as I say them, which is precisely the point: They are self-evident, loadbearing foundations for my entire argument, and if I don’t point them out, I’m going to sound like a crackpot conspiracy theorist. (Which! To be fair, I might be. I could easily be wrong about all this—but I don’t think I am.)

Our baseline, loadbearing assumptions that preface my Grand Unified Theory of Season 2:

1. Neil Gaiman is extremely good at his job.

2. Neil Gaiman loves these characters and wants with all his heart to do them justice; likewise, he has a great deal of respect, love, and admiration for Terry Pratchett and is striving VERY HARD to write the show the way Terry would have been happy with.

3. The devil, as they say, is in the details: Neil Gaiman and the entire Good Omens cast/crew are fully capable of doing extremely subtle detail work, as conclusively proven in Season 1 Ep 6, specifically the whole sequence of the body-swap scenes.

With me so far? Great.

The Elephant In The Room

Season 2 was... odd. It was odd, wasn’t it. This isn’t a matter of whether you loved it or hated it—there was just something odd going on.

I spent the entirety of my first viewing very much enjoying myself and being very happy to be back with these characters and this world, but I was also liveblogging to my groupchat as I went, and a theme soon began emerging:

“Neil, what are you doing? Where are you going with this?” “What in god’s name is going on here? I’m so lost lmao.” “What is going on with the music situation?” “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE NEIL” “zombies, ok, I trust u to pull this all together in the end, Neil, but I still don't know what you're up to” “What is going on LOL” “Incredibly what is going on here” “NEIL! WHAT IS HAPPENING!” “Literally what is happening” “Neil Gaiman why have you constructed a regency au for mystery VIBES reasons” “just????????? lesbians????????? dancing what's HAPPENING. just all the background characters are gay here ok sure sure sure NEIL GAIMAN WHAT IS HAPPENING--” “mmmmmmm neil what u doin”

All these are copied verbatim from my liveblogging, and apparently I am not the only one to have this reaction. And to be clear, I was having a good time! I came out to this theater to see a magic trick, and this Neil Gaiman guy on stage is a master magician—but I didn’t see the trick, even though there must have been a trick.

At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the season. I wanted to like it! Indeed, there were many things that I liked about it! But I felt a bit muddled and jumbled up and confused—I felt like there was something I didn’t understand about it, and so I couldn’t yet understand how I felt about it either.

I started chewing on this question in a friend’s DMs: Why is season 2 so fucking odd? What is going on here, Neil? What are you up to? The matter of whether he was up to something was never in question. I knew that he had to be up to something. Writers are always up to something, and as I watched season 2, it was as if I was watching Neil scamper around the room with a mischievous expression as he messed with things here and there and made little tweaks and adjustments to the arrangement of all the Chekov’s guns he’s stockpiling on the mantelpiece.

You see, Season 2 has some very bad writing in it. HANG ON, DON’T ARGUE WITH ME YET! THIS IS NOT A JUDGMENT CALL!! This is the rug that the trick’s secret mechanism is hidden under!!! This is the hidden mirror that makes the trick work!!!!! This is the trapdoor in the stage!

Yes, of course I will explain myself.

Neil Gaiman is a master magician, but I am a pretty damn good magician myself—I’m a professional fantasy author who has published nine books, and I teach workshops for apprentice writers online and at universities—and if there is one thing I have learned about the process of achieving mastery of your craft, it is this:

Regardless of what medium they’re working in, the apprentice artist is concerned primarily with achieving realism via an expansion of their control—control of their brush strokes as they paint a photorealistic eye; control of their deck of cards, the mechanisms of their magic tricks, and where the audience’s attention is being directed; control of all the little factors of voice, plot, character, setting, suspense and surprise that go into writing a good story. However, the master artist has achieved that control—so much so that it often looks effortless to an untrained eye—and sometimes the master artist returns to a messy, amateurish style simply because they have control even over this too.

As an example, consider Picasso and his entire body of work. He begins as an apprentice focused on achieving control, doing portraits of people that look like people—like what we expect a portrait of a person to look like. Then, as he grows in skill and gradually achieves mastery, he pulls away from realism. He develops a style, he experiments with faces that don’t look like any human alive colored in ways that do not appear in nature. He expands his control. His work becomes abstract. Towards the end of his life, he starts experimenting with what’s called “Naive art”, something that a 5 year old could theoretically draw... but you have to achieve mastery before you can do it on purpose and have it look good.

On one hand, Neil Gaiman is extremely good at his job. On the other hand, Season 2 has bad writing in it.

What does that tell us?

Well, we know from our Baseline Assumptions that Neil Gaiman is simply too good of a writer to fuck up through garden-variety clumsiness and lack-of-control the way an apprentice writer would. Additionally, he cannot fuck up by accident in this case because I am positive that the man is scrutinizing his work on Good Omens far too closely to let anything slide—for Crowley and Aziraphale’s sakes, for David and Michael’s sakes, and especially for Terry’s sake. The stakes are sky-high, and he cares too much to write a weird, kind of “bad” season by accident.

Which leaves only one option: He did it on purpose.

(Am I sounding like a crackpot conspiracy theorist? Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m gonna get SO MUCH MORE CRACKPOT.)

If he did it on purpose, then the natural question to ask is: WHY!?!?!??

It’s a great question. Not “Why?” in terms of why he as an individual person with emotions would decide to do that, mind you. More like, “What purpose does this serve for the structure of the narrative?” There is a story he is intending to tell, and out of all the choices he could have possibly made, for some reason this one was necessary and correct in order to achieve that end goal—so what was that reason?

See? Intentionality. He knows exactly what details he left in, and he did it on purpose. (Editing! It’s important!)

So there has to be a reason. It’s like when a master magician “casually” rubs an itch on his nose—why did he do that? What is he sneakily slipping into his mouth by hiding it under the excuse of this little gesture that does not even register to you as meaningful? (If you haven’t watched enough stage magic to know what I mean, watch this.)

This question is, of course, impossible to simply answer out of thin air without any further evidence. It is a dead end—so we must adjust the question and come at it from a different angle.

The one I settled on when I was chewing on this was: Well, okay, what do I mean when I say “bad writing”? What is it about S2 that makes it feel so goddamn odd?

The Pledge, The Turn, and... The Conspicuous, Expectant Silence

There are three parts to a magic trick: Pledge, Turn, Prestige.

First, the Pledge: You show the audience something ordinary. Second, the Turn: You make that ordinary thing do something extraordinary, like vanish. Third, the Prestige: You bring the ordinary thing back.

To quote the 2006 film The Prestige just after its explanation of the first two parts: “You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet, because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back.”

You have to bring it back.

When I teach apprentice writers, I call this a “setup-payoff cycle”. Achieving control and dexterity with this tool is crucial, because the setup-payoff cycle is the engine of the story—it’s what makes the story run. You can have a setup-payoff cycle at any scale—I have read ones that were a single sentence long; I’ve read ones that were two books long. Additionally, all jokes, no matter how long they are, are structured on a setup/payoff cycle. These cycles work precisely the same way a magic trick does:

You set up the audience’s expectations. (Optional but generally considered stylish and elegant: You give those expectations a firm jolt to throw the audience off-balance.) You pay off the audience’s expectations in a way they weren’t expecting, while saying “TA DA!!!!” really loud with your arms flung wide.

Audiences really like this. A setup-payoff cycle executed just right makes the audience’s brains light up like Times Square and hammers on their mental “reward” buttons like nothing else. It’s like you’ve personally handed them a cookie and a gold star. They go wild for this.

Here’s an example of a setup-payoff cycle, though it’s not a perfect one—and you’ve probably heard it before, so you’re not going to be throwing chairs and tearing down the theater from sheer glee:

The Setup: Knock knock. Who’s there? Banana. Banana who? The Jolt: (the joke starts over and repeats several times without reaching the payoff (aka the prestige) while the audience grows more and more annoyed and frustrated about the unfulfilled expectations, until finally...) Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? The Payoff: ORANGE YOU GLAD I DIDN’T SAY BANANA?

Good Omens Season 2 feels so fucking odd because the setup-payoff cycles are incomplete—nearly all of them are, and the ones that do close the loop do so in really weird ways which, as a professional author, make me feel kind of, “Bwuh?????? But where’s my cookie? Excuse me??? Sir???? Neil????? My cookie, tho???”

When I realized this, when I finally put my finger on why the whole season was giving me some uncanny valley heebie-jeebies, a chill ran down my spine. (The rest is here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ I’M GOING TO GO STARE INTO THE ABYSS NOW BYE)

#good omens #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman

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fairyofhee · 9 months

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ONE OF YOUR GIRLS.

PAIRING. heeseung x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS. It was difficult to contradict the rumors of you being obsessed with Lee Heeseung. But it was all true that you had a huge crush and a few wild fantasies about him. You were aware of his infamous reputation of how many girls he’s taken to his bed, yet you still wanted to be one of his.

WARNINGS. angst, fluff, contains smut! MINORS DNI. first time, fingering, unprotected sex, pull-out method. 7k words.

It started happening a few days ago when you heard the whispers of people making unsettling remarks about you. Apparently, you were obsessed with Lee Heeseung.

But the rumors were not true. You barely acknowledged Lee Heeseung’s existence, you certainly do not have the biggest crush on him, and most definitely didn’t have the fantasy to fuck him. These are wild statements to come out of someone’s mouth, but those were just rumors.

Well, that’s what you wanted people to think. It’s true that you have a crush on Heeseung, a huge one that gives you constant butterflies, in fact. It started off as small feelings in middle school because you just found him cute. Then in high school, you started to gain real feelings, an admiration for him. He was the smartest dude in school, the captain of the basketball team, and he was always soft spoken and sweet to anyone he talked to. It was impossible not to fall for him.

With all these years of having these feelings, you barely talked to him, even if being in the same circle of friends. Though, things started to change this school year. The friend group started to hang out often since ways would be parted for college next year. You and Heeseung started talking more and you even got to know each other better, which made you hopeful for something more.

But soon, you were met with bitterness, a feeling close to heartbreak. He started getting distant from everyone — especially from you. You overheard from the chatters around school that Heeseung was a major fuckboy now who slept with the girls at school. You never judged him, despite the aches in your chest that it caused.

The girls who slept with him would brag about how good he was. Heeseung, the sweet guy he is, was the sweetest in bed. And as much as it tarnishes your self worth and disregards the deep feelings you have, you didn’t mind the idea of being his just for one night, let alone a few hours.

You just wanted to be one of his girls.

You slammed your locker closed and was met with Heeseung who had a sly grin on his face.

“So, should I take you to my place tonight? Or do you prefer if I take you on a date first?”

You haven’t talked to him in a week and there was no doubt that he heard about the rumors — the rumors that he had no idea were true.

“What are you talking about?” You said with a hint of defensiveness. You quickly softened your expression to make up for your attitude, you were just tired of everyone talking about you.

“Nothing,” Heeseung shook his head, “I’m just teasing you. I heard what people are saying.”

“None of it is true,” You lied.

He let out a low laugh, which caused your heart to drop in fear. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they were.”

You gently push his shoulder and Heeseung quickly gets rid of the smirk on his face. “Stop joking around, a lot of people are already on my ass about it. And everyone knows you have a different girl in your bed every week, it just makes me seem twice as desperate.” You playfully say, taking the situation less seriously as Heeseung is.

You watched as his gaze fell to the floor. Were you wrong to bring up his reputation?

Heeseung scratched his head before meeting your eyes, “It’s just rumors and they will go away soon,” he spoke matter-of-factly.

“I’ll see you tonight at the bonfire?”

You scoff and shake your head. “I probably won’t go anymore because of what people are saying.”

He notices hurt evident on your face, but he smiles anyway. “If the rumors aren’t true then don’t let it bother you,” he takes a step closer and you start to feel your heart pound. “I’ll try to find out who started it, but I better see you tonight.”

At that he leaves, and there it was, the feeling of butterflies floating around in your stomach. His assurance makes you feel better.

It was impossible to hide how widely you smiled and how heated your cheeks felt. He was just being a kind and caring friend, yet it was impossible not to fall for him.

Bonfires were held by the school to celebrate the wins of the basketball team. You always had a great time hanging out with your friends, meeting new people, and supporting the team. Though, it also wasn’t fun to always watch the team captain stick his tongue down someone’s throat and completely disappearing before the night ended.

You decided to attend the one held tonight, although things would be different. There will be people who are constantly going to talk about you or maybe even say things directly to your face.

On the way to the bonfire, you thought about the last words Heeseung said to you at school before he left your locker. These stupid remarks that people are saying will eventually go away. But you still had no idea who would start these rumors.

You thought that you hid your feelings pretty well by not telling anyone, not even your closest friends. Maybe you were just too obvious.

“What if someone humiliates me tonight?” You walked down the beach with Hana, having a churned feeling in your gut.

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Hana softly says while wrapping a blanket around you. “The boys will literally kick someone’s ass, you know how protective they are of you.”

You thank Hana for helping you ease up. You let go of your uneasy thoughts, Heeseung is expecting to see you which matters right now.

“You guys made it,” Jake got up from his seat to hug you and Hana. You look around and take in your surroundings. There were more people than you expected. Sunghoon and Jay were sitting down around the campfire along with a few students from school that you recognized.

Noticing that Heeseung wasn’t here, you press your lips in a small frown, already thinking about the worst of where he may be.

“Where’s Heeseung? Did he already leave with someone tonight?” You ask Jake in a playful manner, preparing your disappointment if he already had disappeared with someone else.

“No,” Jake laughed, “The basketball team snuck in booze so he’s helping with that. He’ll be back.”

You nod and try to hide the evident sigh of relief that was let out. “Forget that I asked,” you laughed before going around the campfire to greet Sunghoon and Jay.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked. “I’m fine, I’m just gonna hang for now and probably get a drink later,” you said, taking a seat in an empty space. You recognize the person sitting to the left of you, he was definitely a player of the basketball team.

“Hey, aren’t you suppose to help-“

“Have you fucked the captain yet?”

You heard the boy say as his lips turn into a sneer, and you started to chuckle nervously, the question catching you off-guard but it was expected right? You and your obsession with Heeseung was the talk of the town this week.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” You groaned out. Before the boy could answer, he was lightly smacked in the head. “Hey, leave her alone,” announced a familiar voice from behind you.

It was Heeseung with an agitated look on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel your lips slightly upturn into a grin. You watched as Heeseung took a seat, separating you and his teammate.

The action made your heart warm.

“When did you get here?” The irritated look on his face changed as he smiled fondly.

“I just got here with Hana.”

Heeseung nods before initiating small tension of silence. You notice him carefully bringing his stare to you. It was as if he using his eyes to trace every detail on your face and this freaked you out.

“Is there something on my face?” You questioned anxiously, hoping that you didn’t actually have anything on your face because it would be embarrassing, especially in front of your crush that you’re trying to impress.

Heeseung shook his head and chuckled. “No, I’m just glad you’re here,” he softly said.

A shit eating grin appeared from his response and you were flustered, your face possibly super red.

“Am I missing something?” You giggled, in disbelief of the words coming out of his mouth.

You were happy to know that he’s glad to see you, you actually wanted to scream, but you were also a bit confused on why he suddenly felt this way.

He was a fuckboy and this was probably his way of taking his girls to bed, not that you minded because this is what you want — a chance to be his for one night, but something felt off.

“All of a sudden you’re happy to be around me,” you lightly shrugged while taking a moment to get lost in his wide eyes, “What’s going on?”

His throat bobbled before he forced out a laugh, “Nothing’s going on. I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay after what people are saying.”

You didn’t know why, but you had a hard time believing him. You had a feeling that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Thank you-“

“We’re gonna play truth or drink.”

You drew your attention away from Heeseung when Hana was in front of you.

“I’ll pass,” you tell her.

Hana crosses her arms and pouts, “Just play for one round then you can go back to- whatever,” she turned her gaze to Heeseung who was awfully sitting closer than you remember. Hana notices the close proximity but doesn’t comment on it, instead, she’s waiting for you to answer.

“Why are we playing truth or drink?”

Hana grins, “The boys suggested it because they’re bored and the booze hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“Fine, but just one round,” you warn.

Hana happily takes a seat next to you with Heeseung still on your left. You watch your friends and a few familiar people around the campfire get comfortable before the game starts.

“Heeseung,” Sunghoon managed to get everyone’s attention, “Can I ask you first?”

You turn to face Heeseung who swallowed as he sat up to unintentionally fix his posture. “Sure,” he said without hesitation.

“Alright, let me think,” Sunghoon muttered.

“When was the last time you slept with someone?” There was a hint of tease in his voice.

Heeseung eyes got a bit wider while the question caused the others to ‘ooh’ like children. You, however, felt your stomach twist. You were curious, but also didn’t need a reminder that the guy you have feelings for is sleeping around with most of the girls at school but you.

You feel your brows furrow when Heeseung locked eyes with you for a moment before he finally spoke out his answer. “A month ago.”

You tried to give out a quiet laugh, but Heeseung heard and quizzically tilted his head at your reaction. “You’re lying,” you murmured.

Heeseung peered intently at you, he was taken aback. “It’s the truth,” he cleared his throat.

You almost feel bad, but you skeptically stared at him, “I have a hard time believing that.”

His expression turned into a more serious one, and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you. Have you struck a nerve?

“I’m sorry,” you said as he went silent, “It’s just hard to believe that the biggest fuckboy at school would go a month without sex.”

You and the others who heard everything shared a look as Heeseung snickered. You turned to face him and this time he was closer. There was an uncomfortable closeness. He was intimidating, and you felt your breath hitch, regretting the words that came out of your mouth.

“How many times are you gonna mention me being a ‘fuckboy’ and the girls in my bed?” The change of tone in his voice was almost scary.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You shake your head and try to apologize. You acted out of jealously and bitterness. “Heeseung-“

“I answered. Who’s turn is it?” he interjected while looking around to continue the game. Thankfully, no one made a single comment to what was heard. Jake proceeded with the game by asking the girl next to him a question.

You cursed under your breath knowing that it was wrong to not believe Heeseung’s answer and to bring up his reputation about his sex life. Not wanting things to be weird, you attempt to apologize again but was met with hard silence.

After a moment of listening to your friends play the game that you forgot was occurring, Heeseung finally looks back at you and there was something in his gaze you had never seen.

“Are you jealous because you want to fuck me?” He mutters lowly for only you to hear.

You freeze completely.

The intensity in his stare and the sensual tone in his voice made you feel something that you have never felt before when he spoke to you.

“T-that’s not true,” you stuttered, trying to ignore how hot your ears and cheeks felt.

You felt as if you were caught and the truth of yours was finally going to come out. You weren’t ready to tell Heeseung about your feelings, you weren’t even sure if you’re going to confess.

“I know,” Heeseung softly lets out with a quick change of expression. He grins, noticing your flushed face. “I’m sorry, it was just a joke. I just like seeing you flustered,” he admits.

You playfully push his shoulder just as you did when he was at your locker earlier today. You let out a huge sigh of content that he wasn’t super pissed about the comments you made. But why was he always playing around with you?

“Y/N, your turn.” Someone from your class blurted out which caused your head to shoot up.

“What’s your question?” You uttered.

Your classmate took a pause to think of a suitable question to ask. “Are you currently seeing or dating anyone?” They finally spoke.

“I am not,” you said easily.

“That’s good to know,” a voice said and you swore it came from the left of you, but you weren’t certain. Suddenly, you notice everyone looking at the boy next to Heeseung, the one who spoke to you earlier, with faces of terror.

“What did you say?” You asked the basketball player with a slight anxious tone to your voice.

Along with everyone around the campfire, Heeseung had his eyes glued to his teammate.

“I said that it’s good to know you’re single,” He said with an exasperated voice.

The comment made you feel a bit irked, but your focus was on everyone whispering and some even laughing before they quickly moved on.

“She’s lying,” you heard another sudden voice blurt out. This time, the voice sounded clear and close. “She’s taken by me,” Heeseung declared, not sparing you a glance.

“What?” You exclaimed, feeling your heart beat rapidly to the point that you didn’t notice Hana trying to speak to you. “Heeseung, stop,” you urged, knowing that he was playing around again.

Heeseung ignored you and instead, nodded his head, “We’ve been dating for awhile now.”

“Stop fucking around again, it’s not funny,” You pleaded while grabbing onto his arm to get his attention. He finally met your eye contact but kept going with his act by appearing to be upset.

“Baby, come on.” He whined out, practically begging with his big doe eyes.

You would usually feel the butterflies in your stomach, but this was different. You started to wonder why he treated everything as a joke. And it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t aware of your feelings, but he was really torturing you.

“Is that why you made up those rumors?”

Heeseung glanced over your head as your eyes widened at the sudden statement. You turned around and surprise crossed Jake’s face.

“You made things up to soft launch your relationship?” Jake continued, directly speaking to Heeseung.

You take a second to process Jake’s words and the look Heeseung gave him. All you can do is inquisitively raise your brow at Heeseung, while trying to get rid of the huge lump in your throat.

“What is he saying?” You softly asked, trying to ignore the heavily feeling in your chest. Heeseung opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it.

“You made up those rumors?” You raised your voice, trying to get an answer out of him, but there was nothing so you get up from your seat and stand before him.

“Do you know how many people at school have humiliated me?” You choked out as the realization hits you. You were betrayed by your own friend who happened to be the one guy that you have intense feelings for. “Why did you do it?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Heeseung stands and attempts to hold your arm but you quickly pull away.

You shook your head fervently, “That’s all you have to say? Why are you doing this to me?”

Lee Heeseung always gave you a sense of what heartbreak felt like. The way most girls had a taste of him and how he betrayed you.

Was it wrong to not believe that he was hurting you? Maybe you were obsessed with him.

“I’ll bring you home,” Hana reaches out for your hand and leads the way to the car, both of you leaving the bonfire after saying quick goodbyes to your confused friends. You felt humiliated enough and just wanted to go home.

You hear Heeseung practically chasing after you, “Wait,” he pleads, voice cracking lowly.

“Why did you do it?” You let out, blinking back incoming tears because you weren’t going to cry.

“You’re always fucking around with me and I didn’t do shit to you,” the pain in your voice was so evident that Heeseung shook his head, an array of emotions flurrying across his face.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” he gently said.

As much as it hurts, you said nothing and got inside the car, leaving Heeseung feeling like complete shit. You repeatedly asked the same question, yet it was always dodged. To you, it wasn’t worth to fight for an answer anymore.

On the way home you confessed to Hana about your crush. She wasn’t all that surprised because yeah, you were just too obvious about it.

Now you were in bed, trying to forget all that is Lee Heeseung, but it was too damn hard. Your stupid crush as you call it, felt more than a simple crush. That invisible pull he had on you was too strong and it seemed impossible to move on.

You wonder if he were ever going to apologize, were you going to forgive him quickly?

The thought of moving on continued until you felt your eyes closed and drifted to sleep. But suddenly, you heard a few taps on the window which caused your eyes to snap open.

Surprised and super tense, you ran to your window and hesitatingly open your blinds to reveal Heeseung standing outside on your balcony. He had that same look on his face when didn’t spare him a chance to speak before getting inside the car. You open your window to let him in, praying that you weren't loud enough to wake your parents up who were asleep down the hall.

“You scared me,” you whispered, watching him enter your room through the window with ease. You quickly cross your arms, feeling a bit exposed in just silk pajama pants and a tank top.

“What are you doing here?” You panic as he scans your room. “My parents are sleeping and-“

“I’m sorry I made up those rumors,” he interrupts, face dropping in hurt as he stands before you. You narrowed your eyes at him, realizing how close he was standing. It was difficult to keep your heart steady, you didn’t even have time to process that Lee Heeseung was in your room.

“Why did you do it?” You ask the same question once more, hoping he answers this time.

“I did it because I wanted your attention,” his throat bobbles. “It’s actually really fucking stupid,” Heeseung sighs hard as you attentively listen, not fully understanding his words.

“I like you a lot and I thought that these rumors would bring us closer together,” he confesses. “It’s so stupid, I don’t know why I thought that.”

Your breath hitches as your arms drop. This new information is hitting you with surprise, causing you to take a tentative step forward, “You like me?” You couldn’t believe him.

Heeseung nods, “I’ve liked you for a while,” he huffs and glances away. “I started sleeping around to distract myself from you, and I tried getting rid of my feelings because I knew you wouldn’t like me back,” a laugh was let out.

Your mouth falls open, but you were speechless. The boy you’re practically in love with is reciprocating his feelings and he left you momentarily stunned as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through your veins.

“Heeseung,” you shake your head, having a difficult time comprehending what you’ve heard.

“Wait,” he brings both hands to each of your bare shoulders. “It’s true that I’ve stopped seeing other girls. Whenever I was with them I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he pauses and grins for a moment, “So I had to stop.”

“You sound insane right now,” you let out without thought and he sighed with a nod, “And you made me look like a fool and an obsessive freak.”

He nodded again while removing his hands, “I know and I’m really sorry for doing that to you. And I’m sorry for what I pulled at the bonfire, it was wrong to lie like that in front of everyone.”

You crossed your arms, “The rumors you said-“

“What I said about you was fucked up.”

A frown fell upon him as you stare into his eyes. You knew he was genuine with his words — he wouldn’t have snuck into your room and risk getting you both caught if he wasn’t.

You slowly step forward, cupping his face with a hand and taking the chance to finally close the gap between you two, capturing his lips in a kiss. You heard him let out a gasp when he felt your lips on his. Heeseung easily melts into you while returning your kiss, and you can’t help but smile, finally kissing him after wanting him for so long.

You were the first one to pull away when air became necessary, “What you said was all true.”

He furrowed his brows, unable to find words to say anything. The redness of his ears makes you giggle, it was cute to see how shy he was.

“I like you too and I thought about being with you,” you interlock your hand with his, never leaving his gaze. “I thought about it a lot actually,” you remove the hair in your face, “Whenever I heard that you were with someone else.”

Heeseung tried to gather the courage to speak. According to his words, he’d never thought that you would feel the same way. To express what he was feeling inside, he brought his lips to yours for a quick kiss before pulling away.

“What fantasies do you have of me?”

The question causes you to hide your face in embarrassment, but Heeseung quickly removes your hands, regretting his pestering remark.

“I’m truly sorry, I’ll make sure people at school will stop talking about you. I did something very shitty and you don’t deserve it,” he admits.

“I forgive you,” you bury your face in Heeseung’s shoulder, “Only because I’m an obsessed freak.” You joke hastily causing him to chuckle fondly.

After a moment of being in each other’s embrace, you stare into his vulnerable eyes, allowing yourself to act on your feelings. “I want to be yours. I always have,” you beamed.

Heeseung understands quickly, because he also has always wanted to be yours. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips against yours softly.

He kissed you gently and slow, until he’s suddenly attacking your lips, and you feel both of his large hands cupping your small face. He licks your bottom lip for permission to shove his tongue inside your mouth and you accept, both of you fighting for dominance. It was like a reflex with the way you grabbed onto his hair.

You felt his hand slip under your tank top and he grabs your breast, kneading it gently. A loud exhale leaves your mouth, his touch igniting you.

Heeseung quickly broke away from you and nuzzled your temple before taking a deep breath then sighing, “We don’t have to go all the way.”

“Lee Heeseung turning down sex?” You tease him and he laughs before kissing you once more.

“I didn’t come here expecting something to happen. You’re special to me.”

His declaration makes your hurt flutter and creates an uncomfortable feeling between your legs. “I want you,” you tell him.

Heeseung freezes.

“Have you done it before?” He takes your hand.

You hesitate before shaking your head, “I’ve did other things before, but I’ve never gone all the way with someone.”

Your response makes him pause.

“Then it shouldn’t be with me,” he says before withdrawing his touch and taking a step back.

You grab his arm, refusing him to walk away, “Hey, I want it to be with you. I don’t care about how many other girls you’ve had, that’s not important,” you tell him. “Heeseung, please.”

It felt like a long time waiting for him to say something. Finally, he speaks up, “If we do this then I want you to tell me to stop when you want me to,” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

“Okay,” You nod your head accordingly.

“But we can’t be too loud, your parents are down the hall,” he amusingly smiles.

You nod your head one more time as he searches for any last signs of you wanting to back out. His hot breath fanned on your face as you pull him closer by his shirt.

He leans further down to press a trail of kisses against your jaw as you take a deep breath before tugging at the end of his shirt while his hand slides under yours, cupping your breast firmly this time. Heeseung removes his shirt, revealing his exposed chest as you take off yours.

You watch him take a step back to admire you, which leaves your face flushed with heat.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and all you could do is smile because you notice the tent in his pants.

Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and shoves his tongue back inside your mouth. You rub your thighs together feeling yourself getting soaked, you wanted to feel him already.

When you wrap your arms around his shoulders, you can’t help the way your body reacts to him as you attempt to rub yourself against him.

Heeseung notices this and instead of letting you continue, he slides a hand inside your pants and between your legs to spread your slick while also pressing the heel of his palm on your clit.

“That feels good,” you groan out, still attempting to press against him. When you succeed, a small grunt leaves his lips. “Does it?” He says coyly while curling his long fingers inside you.

You don’t answer him and it’s because he’s hitting your sweet spot, making you unable to speak. He fastens his pace and you feel your orgasm approaching, “H-Heeseung, I’m so close,”

He relentlessly rubs circles around your clit, reveling in the pretty noises coming out of your mouth. You feel your thighs shaking as you continue grinding against him, and it was becoming too much until you let out your release, holding onto his biceps to steady yourself.

After retracting his fingers and wiping them clean on his pants, Heeseung easily picks you up from off the ground and props you on your bed. He grabs the band of your pants to pull them down before quickly slipping off your panties. You impatiently lay there, waiting for him to undress.

He starts to strip off his pants by unbuttoning the buttons, his boxers followed by it. The sight of his cock leaking with precum caused your eyes to widen. He was pretty, prettier from what you’ve seen before, and you can’t help but feel nervous as to how he was going to fit inside you.

But you trust him and give him a nod to continue because you want this so bad. Heeseung started to stroke himself, and with the copious amount of precum, he was able to glide up and down with ease. The view of Lee Heeseung looking gorgeous on your bed while naked leaves you breathless.

“Shit,” he lets out a panic grunt.

You sit up and notice the worried look on his face, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry baby, I-I don’t have a condom,” he mutters, and by the tone in his voice, you could tell that he was freaking out. “I have one in the car, I could run to get it really quick.”

You think about it for a second before shaking your head. Although a condom would be the safest choice, you don’t want him to get dressed just to undress again. Your parents were still in the house, and you were afraid that he’d get caught sneaking back inside.

You also wanted him now, you weren’t sure if you could wait much longer. “You can just pull out,” you suggest and he immediately refuses.

“It’s okay, I trust you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have a problem getting it.”

You reach for his hand and give it a tight squeeze before nodding, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Unless you aren’t?” You continue.

Heeseung shakes his head, “No, I’m sure. I want you too, very badly, but I want you to feel safe.”

You lay back down while pulling Heeseung until he’s hovered over you. “I trust you, Hee. It’s fine.”

Heeseung merely tilts his head and lets his smile deepen as he removes the hair in your face to see you clearly. He kisses the side of your mouth then your lips before taking his throbbing length to slowly slide inside you.

With his precum and your dripping core, he is able to slide in easily, but he deliberately takes a slow amount of time, not wanting to hurt you. Your hands desperately grabbed at his bare shoulders, digging your nails in as he slides in deeper. You feel full when he’s only halfway in, and as much as you wanted to him to bottom you out and fuck you relentlessly, it did hurt a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he halts and completely slips out, feeling you slightly shift and noticing the uncomfortable look on your face.

“No,” you grab him by the arm, “Don’t stop.”

Heeseung obliges, lining his cock up with your entrance and gently easing the tip inside. He inched inside deeper and your walls squeezed when inviting him in. Heeseung fully inserted himself into you, causing you to cling onto him and let out a loud whine. He allowed you to adjust as he stretched you out and the feeling felt better than just fingers, you were already addicted.

He grabbed your thighs and grinded himself upwards, placing his dick so deep inside you. Heeseung grit his teeth attempting to hold back his sounds before planting a weak kiss on your lips, never feeling like this with anyone else.

“Does it feel good?” He whimpers, gradually increasing his pace when thrusting inside you.

All he got as a response was moan and he chuckled, finding it cute. You were enthralled, feeling his movements become faster, more ragged and desperate. “It feels- so good.”

Heeseung was watching you with lustful eyes as you took his cock in ecstasy. Your lips met, exchanging warm breaths and loud moans into each other’s mouths as it echoed inside your room. “You feel good, perfectly made for me.”

“I’m glad it’s with you,” You accidentally let out, trying to contain your moan. After hearing your words, he groaned and firmed your hips closer. You feel him increasing his pace, hitting your spot as he slid in and out of you, almost tipping you over the edge. “Heeseung-“ You began.

He lets out a soft grunt before slyly sneaking a hand down to graze your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut and clench hard, his words and warm touch helping you to approach your release.

“Hee, I’m close,” you cry out. He continues thrusting sensually, causing loud sounds to leave both of your mouths at the sensation.

Simultaneously, you both cover each other’s mouths restricting the loud noises so that you wouldn’t wake your parents up. And you release just like that, moaning into Heeseung’s hand.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, “You’re perfect.”

You were dizzy and disoriented, barely making out the words that left his lips as he slows down his rhythm, still fast enough to chase his own release. “I’m gonna cum,” he whined, his fingers gripping your hips almost painfully.

His touch felt amazing and you were vaguely aware of Heeseung pulling out just in time. You groaned, watching as he gasped himself in his fist, pumping himself over your stomach as he painted you with his seed.

His weight gently pushed you flat against the mattress, his puddle of cum sticking on the both of you as you both shook from the intensity of your orgasms. Heeseung pressed small kisses to your shoulders before getting up from your bed and picking up his shirt to clean you.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asked before rolling to lay next to you. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, “It was perfect,” you then plant a small kiss on his lips while removing a piece of his hair that stuck to his forehead.

“You were very sweet with me.”

“I told you that you’re special to me,” he replies, pressing his lips against your forehead.

The corners of your mouth upturned into a huge smile, the butterflies in your stomach were floating around as if they didn’t leave. But in a matter of a quick second, your body language changes into a more stern and stiff manner.

“What’s wrong?” His voice trembled in concern.

A sudden feeling of insecurity hit. Heeseung knew how to make you feel good, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before and a reason might be because he is experienced, but you wonder if you were able to satisfy him — to make him feel good.

“You were so perfect, I don’t know if you could say the same,” you drop your head in defeat. “I’m sorry if it didn’t feel good to you-“

“Baby, stop talking,” he urges.

“You said that you don’t care about how many girls I’ve been with,” he reiterates. “I don’t care if you’re experienced or not, it was perfect because it was with you. I want to be with you.”

You could feel your voice caught in your throat. The look in his eyes as he declared his words made your heart pound hard in your chest. It feels unreal to finally win over your crush of how many long tumultuous years. After everything, you wonder how lucky you got with him.

And Heeseung was thinking the same thing. He felt lucky to be with you after all of his fuck ups, he was obsessed with you too.

“You’re with me,” you tell him.

“Okay then,” he looks satisfied, “You’re my girl.”

note — thank you for reading! please leave any thoughts or comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

#enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung angst #kpop smut #kpop fic #heeseung fic

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tojisun · 7 months

Text

“shopping for your brother?”

you trip at hearing the question, your lips parting in surprise as you whip to look at the clerk. she blinks at you amidst her own shock before turning her eyes down to your hands where a faux fatigued boonie dangled between your pinched fingers.

you watch as she glances back at you before shooting a look towards simon, having seen the two of you walk in together. he’s standing on the far side of the shop, attracting electric looks from everyone – you couldn’t even blame them because even your mouth is watering at the sight that he makes.

still, the insinuation that you couldn’t possibly be simon’s partner stung. forgotten insecurities are rising once again, rippling against the quiet elation that once filled you up.

“um,” you begin, clearing your throat at hearing your voice brokenly taper off. “it’s for, uh, my boyfriend.”

the clerk stares at you for a second before her cheeks fill up with red, the blush descending from her forehead to her neck.

“bloody hell,” she utters. “i’m so sorry.” she scurries away after that, disappearing into their storage room where you think she’s going to stay until you and simon leave.

and you’re willing to do just that. you drop the boonie and walk towards simon, trying to ignore the bitterness that is stinging in the back of your throat. simon uncrosses his arms – tattoos and muscles obscured by the expanse of paper bags that he insisted he pay and carry for you – and holds his hand out for you to take. you look at it, hesitating, before you shake your head and walk out on your own.

you can’t hear him follow you but you know he is there, quiet in his assessment of both the surroundings and of what happened to make you upset. you blink the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, trying to hide your distress as much as you can.

but it is futile because the next thing you know, simon’s pulling you away from the busy stretch of the mall and into an obscured exit point with dim lights and narrow halls. he drops the bags onto the floor before tugging on your wrists with firm gentleness.

“what happened?” his voice is gruff but worry is evident in his tone.

“it’s nothing,” you say, sniffing. “just tired.”

he hums, and you know that he doesn’t believe you. you sigh, turning away from him as you mutter, “i dunno why you like me.” you chew on your words, hoping he wouldn’t understand. but you feel him stiffen before you, his back tensing like he is preparing for a fight.

you know he is angry – not at you. never at you. and seeing his protective nature spark up just at the mere mention of your insecurity makes your lips wobble, your eyes blurring as tears pool once again.

you hear him let out a sharp curse before he’s pulling you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and engulfing you in his arms. he’s so big and all muscles, but he’s so, so warm. you nuzzle your cheek on his chest, letting out a content sigh when you feel his lips press on the top of your head.

“you know that i love you, don’t you, sweetheart?” simon asks, thinly-veiled desperation curling at his words.

you nod, shy all of sudden. he clicks his tongue.

“use y’r words, love.”

you peer up at him, your pouty lips quivering into a small smile at meeting his intense gaze, his beautiful eyes tracking the details of your face like he can’t get enough of you.

you see simon’s reverence and feel your heart melt.

“yeah,” you finally reply, swiping your tongue on your chapped lips and feeling your cheeks warm up at the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. “i know it well, si.”

he grunts before he is bending forward to press his lips over yours, your eyes fluttering close to savour the kiss. he is gentle as he guides you through it, prompting you to part your lips just enough for him to deepen the kiss – tongues swiping against each other and soft moans being engulfed by both of you.

you are panting by the time he pulls away, his eyes dilated in pleasure. you wonder if you look just as debauched, just as desperate for more.

“wanna take this somewhere else?” simon murmurs, just the sound of his grave voice already making you tremble.

you scramble to say yes, your words lilting together in your excitement. simon chuckles and presses a quick kiss on your lips before he’s picking up the shopping bags and herding the two of you out.

#suns.f #a little soft drabble bc well im pining and projecting and i cant even lie that im in luv w this man #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #suns

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dancewithdeath11 · 25 days

Text

Say Sorry

Pairing: Jason Todd X Reader

Summary: Jason reminds you nobody is allowed to talk bad about you, including yourself.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT- (but not really, very self-indulgent) talks of body insecurity (stretchmarks, cellulite (specifically on thighs)), talks of wearing a skirt, mentions of prep & cunnilingus but none,

Word Count: 1.2k

======

“Fuckin- Stupid- Saying shit like that..”

It was your fault. Entirely. But how would you know what punishment your best friend would come up with?

It started out when you were about to go out. Constantly going from your bathroom to the thrifted full body mirror in the corner of your room. Midway through you trying to figure out what you were going to wear, he showed up. Jason was going to give you a ride. He huffed and sat on your bed when he saw you were still trying to pick an outfit. From there he was commenting on them, trying to help you out so the two of you could get going.

One of the outfits you picked out had a cute skirt that went to your mid-thigh. It was a pleated, classic plaid pattern with a nice brown color. You were pairing it with a brown sweater as well. Only problem was that you couldn't find any nylons to go with it. “Shit-” Turning to look at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but focus on your own thighs. Hands tugging at the skirt to try and cover what you were focusing on. But that only made it look awkward causing you to pull it back up.

“I like that one. Why haven’t I seen you wear that skirt before?” Jason asks as he sits up on the bed, giving you his attention once more. You turned again, looking from the other side. Either way you hated how you could see the cellulite and stretchmarks that patterned your thighs.

“I hate it. I should’ve stuck with the jeans!” Your head shook back and forth as you went to go to the bathroom again.

He stood up and stopped you, a firm hand on your upper arm. “Hey- Why do you hate it? It’s a good look, just do your makeup and we can go.” The man chuckled lightly. Looking up at him, you hesitated slightly before shaking your head again. “No..talk to me. What is it?”

Your eyes rolled as he took your shoulders, clearly not letting you go till he got you to talk to him. Jason was just that kind of friend. He was sweet and tried to help you where he could. A shoulder to lean on, a trusted confidant. “I..My thighs and skirts just don’t go together.” You tried to laugh it off slightly. However, he did not like that.

“Your thighs are fine.” It was his turn to shake his head, a deep frown pulling on his lips. Looking like he didn’t believe it. Like he heard the most obvious lie spoken to man.

“No-”

“Why would you say that your thighs and skirts don’t work together? Is there some war between us and skirts I’m not aware of?” He joked slightly, head ducking down to catch your gaze as you looked away. It melted your heart a little at the way he said us. A frustrated huff left your pouted lips as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“It’s- You can see my stretch marks, and my cellulite, it’s just not a good look.” You once more tried to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But now his face hardened, an almost angry frown on his face and brows furrowed.

“Don’t say that.” He said, his voice stern as ever. This tone is unfamiliar to you, but even then you wanted to argue back, opening your mouth to do so. But he knew you well enough to not let you get away with that. “Don’t.” That was all he muttered as he took you by the hips and turned you, walking you back towards the bed. “You’re so blind, I swear, ma.” He grumbled under his breath as he made you sit on your bed.

But what started as a stern lecture from your best friend, quickly turned into more.

The evidence being the bites and hickeys on the insides of your thighs from when he ate you out till you couldn’t take it anymore. Slick coating them from when prepped you with his thick and long fingers. The pads of his fingers calloused from years of abuse, training, and killing. His grip on your thighs alone was enough to remind you what he was capable of. There would probably be bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck-” Was all you could hiccup as he bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder. Finally fucking his entire length into you making you feel impossibly full. If you thought he was big before, this was a whole new definition.

Jason was a brick wall of a man. That was clear. Tall and broad, biceps that looked bigger than your head. But now you know, he was big in other places too. No wonder he was so attentive with prep, but even now it was still a lot.

He was kissing and licking along your tits as he scolded you, waiting patiently for you to adjust. Your back arched as he hugged you around your waist and held you close to reach your chest. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you whined to him, trying your best to watch him past his dark curls.

He lowered you back onto the covers. Sitting back on his hutches as he watched you with hooded eyes that skated along your hickey littered skin. The same look you’d see when he’d read poetry or admire art. Large hands gently skating up your sides. Thumbs coming to rest just under the swell of your tits, fingers splaying out across your ribs. “Real stupid..” He comes back down and nips at the sensitive skin. Pressing a final kiss there before coming face to face with you. Resting on his elbows on either side of your head as he hovered over you, hiding you from the coldness of your own bedroom. He pressed a feather light kiss to your lips before staying there. Whispering against them, “Say you're sorry. Say you’re sorry for sayin’ something so stupid about my girl.”

God, his eyes were really intense. The way he was staring at you alone was enough to make your face flush more than it already was.

“S-Sorry..” You whispered out weakly between shallow breaths. He chuckled slightly and nodded in approval, pulling out the slightest bit before stuffing himself back in. Your breathing stuttered as your hands searched desperately for something to grip, quickly latching onto his back. “Jay-”

“I know, ma...” He cooed softly as he sat up again, pulling you along with him. Your thighs draped over his leaving you pliant for him. Hugging around your middle once more as he thrusted slightly, pulling your back down onto him. Quickly you hugged around his shoulders not wanting to fall back. His lips pecked your jawline quickly before he locked you into a kiss. It was messy, uncoordinated and searing. Teeth clashing, heavy breathing and moans shared between the two of you. “God.. S’pretty for me, Princess..” He whispered against your lips as you pant softly.

It was slow but hard. The push and pull, feeling the drag of his dick deep inside you.

You’d never doubt your best friend again…

======

Sorry, just another thing i wanted to clear out of my drafts ;)

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #dc fanfic #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd imagine

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iluvzaddies · 8 months

Text

meine liebe, mein leben

pairing: könig x wife!reader

warnings: pregnancy

summary: after spending months on the battlefield, könig comes home to find you with a swollen tummy.

könig couldn’t wait to get home to you, his beloved wife. his love, his life. he had been dying to see you, hold you, kiss you and make love to you again throughout the entirety of his mission.

he kept a polaroid of you in his pocket, in case he felt down or if he missed you. seeing your face always made his day better. and whilst he kept a polaroid of you, a heart-shaped locket with a tiny photo of him inside adorned your neck. it was old school and cute.

he was glad you were willing to stay by his side, despite knowing he was in the military and that he would always get deployed. he hated leaving you, but you reassured him about it, saying it was his job.

after what felt like a decade; staying in a town turned into a war zone, keeping civilians safe and protecting them from terrorists, he could finally go home.

on his way home, he felt giddy.

he didn’t notify you of the news because he wanted to surprise you. were you cooking or cleaning right now? should he surprise you by wrapping his arms around your waist? he could imagine your reaction. you would scream at first, thinking it was an intruder, but when you realized it was just your dear husband, you would hug him so tight he could barely breathe.

he opened his and your house with a spare key. unlocking the door, he stepped in and was greeted with a great silence. you weren’t vacuuming the living room, you weren’t cooking in the kitchen, you weren’t eating something in the dining room. he felt slightly disappointed the surprise didn’t turn out like what he imagined in his head, but oh well, you were probably sleeping in the bedroom.

so he headed towards the bedroom and there you were, sleeping soundly on the king-sized bed.

he dropped his gear onto the ground, including his helmet and mask, slowly getting on the bed.

“i’m home.” he whispered into your ear, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

you only hummed in response.

he chuckled.

“(y/n)… meine liebe… i’ve returned.”

you scrunched your face, eyes opening. you were met with the sight of your husband’s handsome face – which you had the privilege of seeing all the time – hovering above your own.

“könig?”

“ja, i’m here. i’m home.”

your eyes widened and you abruptly sat up.

“könig.” you repeated as if you couldn’t believe your eyes. you reached out to touch his cheek, moving your thumb up and down in a slow motion.

you missed him so much. so very much. every single day, you thought about him, if he was doing alright, when he would return, etcetera.

as tears began to well up in your eyes, könig, the ever so loving husband, began to worry and asked, “what’s the matter, meine liebe?”

“i’m just glad you’re home and safe.” you sniffled. “we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

könig was confused.

“we?” he pointed out.

you nodded. you took his hand, guiding it to your belly, where your child resided.

“y–you’re pregnant?” his eyes looked like they were about to pop out and his jaw about to hit the floor.

“yes.”

“how…” he trailed off, staring at your evident baby bump.

“how far along am i? four months. that’s how long you’ve been gone.” you caressed your belly.

you were worried for a second, thinking he didn’t want a child, but your worries washed away when he pulled you in for a hug and a kiss.

“my baby is having a baby!” he exclaimed excitedly. “i’m gonna be a father!” he was overjoyed with happiness. never did he ever see himself marrying someone and having a baby with them, but look at him now. he was a husband and a father.

you sighed in relief. “i thought you were upset. i was worried for a sec.”

“worried? why?” he was taken aback by your words. he grabbed both of your hands, pulling them towards his face and placing a gentle peck on them. “this is the best moment of my life. i would never be upset about this. you’re my love, my life. meine liebe, mein leben.”

“you’re my love and life too.”

after saying that, you shared one last kiss before dozing off in each other’s arms.

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chuluoyi · 5 months

Text

drunken angel

- nanami kento x reader

shibuya? what shibuya? nanami's picking me up right now!

genre/warnings: fluff, comfort

note: they did say... delulu is solulu

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

You giggled uncontrollably as you were seated in the backseat of a cab.

"Kentooo," you gripped his necktie with this ridiculously wide grin on your face. The world was a really happy place for you now, even if it was a little spinning and you felt a bit foggy.

Nanami sighed, resigned. It wasn't typical for you to get drunk, but when you did, you became quite a handful. “Come now.”

You let out a whine, and as he himself took a seat beside you, you wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into him.

—and clingy. You became at least thrice clingier than you usually do.

"Love you, mwah!" you slurred with literal hearts in your eyes, batting your lashes at him. Nanami maintained a deadpan expression while looking at you.

Still, he couldn't deny the thumping of his own heart when those words slipped from your sweet lips, thinking how absolutely adorable you were while at it.

He had been scheduled for a mission near Shibuya, anticipating a night of exorcising curses and returning to find you asleep in your shared apartment. But no, something seemed to have irked you tonight as you went and got wasted, and he found it out only after you called him in your drunken stupor, asking to be picked up.

Of course, he would come to get you. Finishing off those measly curses swiftly, he hurried to your location in no time at all.

You looked up at him with watery eyes, frowning at his lack of reply. “Kento, y'know that… right? Riiight?”

"I do," he gruffly replied, mindful of the taxi driver's amused chuckle. "Don't talk too much now. You're drunk."

"But I want to talk, Kento!"

Nanami shot an apologetic glance at the driver through the rearview mirror, and adjusted your position so that you could rest your head more comfortably on his shoulder.

"I love your smile," you sighed against the soft fabric of his suit. "You look most handsome when you do..."

“Hmm?" Nanami watched you, feeling his face getting warmer despite himself. Okay, you were a clingy drunk, but you were sweet.

"And I love... how considerate you are..."

"Mm-hm."

"But... I just wish... you would take care of yourself more."

Your words caught him off guard. "I already do, love."

"You don't," you spat petulantly, your gaze dropping with dejection.

"How so?"

You were no longer bubbly—you looked like you had been awake for three days straight and it finally caught up to you, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion. You had the appearance of a kicked puppy and Nanami swore you were the cutest girl he knew while being drunk.

"You're always rushing headfirst into danger. You'd do anything for kids. Especially that… Itadowi kid!" you pointed out with a deep crease on your forehead, clearly dissatisfied.

It wasn’t the first time. Nanami knew better—he didn’t miss the worry in your eyes as you saw him off, and the evident relief on your face as you hugged him whenever he came back. It was just that you didn’t voice it as much.

“I’m just… worried that…” you mumbled with a pout, totally heartbroken, “one day… you might…”

And the fact that you still felt like that even in your half-conscious state… his heart broke a little inside.

He waited for you to continue with somewhat of a bated breath, when suddenly you leaned back on the seat and pressed your eyes together, wincing, “Ah… my head’s spinnin’”

Nanami’s face flashed with surprise and then understanding as he clasped your hand in reassurance. “Soon. We’ll arrive at our place soon. You’re going to bed then, okay?”

Even when he knew that getting drunk warranted your current state, it still made something inside him churn with concern. Nanami never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort, no matter how trivial it was.

Upon returning to your place, Nanami took charge. He helped you change into your sleepwear, and gently removed your makeup as best as he could (he confused cleanser with micellar water). Even as your vision swayed and blurred, you recognized the way he lifted you and carried you to the bed, carefully tucking you in to ensure you were settled in as comfortably as possible.

You had this dopey smile on your face as soon as he slipped beside you in his own pajamas, blearily looking at him.

“Kento, you’re…” you whispered, still under the alcohol’s influence and yet sounded so incredibly sincere. “You’re s’good to me…”

Gods, so endearing, Nanami thought to himself. It felt nice to hear you say that, but more than that, you were completely vulnerable, trusting him entirely with your essence, and you were his—his cherished angel.

“Don’t go…” you added, the smile vanished into a sad frown. “Don’t ever leave me…”

"I won't," he replied firmly, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips on your temple. "I'm not going anywhere, yeah? You have nothing to worry about."

It was never in him to to say much, but when he did, he meant every word of it.

“Mmm, but…”

"Sleep now, love," he muttered, enveloping you in his embrace. He pulled the covers around both of you. Nestled in his sturdy arms, you fit perfectly. His hands rubbed up and down your spine, and you sighed.

“Mmm, wuv you so, so much,” you slurred for the nth time tonight, eyes closing and a step away from going to dreamland.

In that moment, Nanami made a silent vow to do whatever it took to ensure you remained safe and happy like this always.

You were the reason—the only person for whom he would set the world ablaze, even at his own expense.

Ah, but he wouldn’t let that happen now, would he? How was he supposed to put a ring on your finger if he was gone?

“I love you too… my dearest.”

. . .

and you thought then, that you just had the most beautiful dream—one where you were right where he was.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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sweetiecutie · 7 months

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🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

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thebimbopalace · 7 days

Text

ᡣ 𐭩 blurb: with your ‘lover’ going out of town on business, he leaves you under the watchful eye of his most trusted hitman toji fushiguro — who grinds your gears.

wc: 1.1k

ᡣ 𐭩 tags: mafia au, hitman!toji fushiguro x fem!reader, foul language, feminine pet names, allusions to sëxual encounters, reader's ‘lover’ referred to as ‘wallet’

authors note: inspired by a scene from the film scarface.

“fushiguro, make sure this girl is taken care of while i'm gone,” your ‘lovers’ scratchy voice instructs the man cloaked in black before you both. the man gives a curt nod to his boss as he stands straight with his hands clasped behind his back.

as you sit there, bored, your wallet comes over and gives a chaste kiss on your jawline as he warns you to behave while he’s gone for the next few days. you give him your signature sweet fake smile as he walks out the double oak doors leaving you and the dark-haired hitman alone.

silence. silence envelopes you both along with that tension. it seems nonexistent to the naked eye but, you and toji know all too well that this sexual tension is anything but new. that doesn’t stop you from ignoring his obvious hungry stares while scanning your body.

you stand from your seat bending down and fixing the strap of your saint-laurent heel before straightening your posture. “if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to retire for the night,” you speak politely to the man before you, wanting to get out of this stuffy tension-infested office.

“that’s so? alone?” toji teases with that stupid smirk gracing his oddly plump lips. you lock eyes with him, not breaking away from his irises. “well yes, who else would i bring to my bed?” you inquired knowing where this was going. the question you just asked opened the door for toji.

and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t walk through it.

“you’re lookin’ at ‘em,” and there it is. right on cue. you can’t even sneeze without this man making some kind of pass at you. not to say that you aren’t flattered. you recognize that toji is an attractive man. scratch that, a very attractive man. but, with you fucking his boss that means you’re basically off-limits to anyone. even to the infamous toji fushiguro.

“don’t get the wrong idea fushiguro,” the snark evident in your tone. a stark contrast to your modest demeanor towards your wallet's subordinates. toji doesn't flinch at the, dare he say, bitchy tone in your voice. this is expected from you. so predictable, so easy to tease. “call me toji, pretty girl,” toji drawls, that teasing lilt ever so present.

that fucking nickname. you hate it.

you hate the way it makes you feel. the slow spread of flush, making your skin sizzle with arousal, the beating of your heart knocking against your chest when he looks at you with his fiery indigo eyes blown with desire and longing. he's getting under your skin. and he relishes it. you swallow down the lust rearing its ugly head clearing your throat.

“fine . . toji, don’t get the wrong idea, i don’t fuck with the help,” you warn. you trying to remind toji of his place is cute to him. he knows who you are to his boss, you know who you are to his boss, and frankly . . . he doesn't give a fuck. “you look like you don’t fuck, period,” he mocks as he crosses his burly arms over his chest, cotton sleeves straining against his beefy biceps.

“excuse me?”

“ahh seems like those pretty ears don’t work either,” he chuckles as he takes one step closer to you. his expensive cologne rises to your nostrils making your mind all fuzzy. his hulking frame dwarfs yours as he invades your personal space creating a thick, viscous atmosphere simmering with heat around you both.

“what i said was you look like you don’t fuck. i mean c’mon, that hot body of yours hasn’t been fucked properly in a looong time, right?” as his eyes scan the tantalizing divots of your body so obviously.

you’re pissed. not only at his blatant lack of a filter but also that . . . he’s right. it has been a long time. but you’re not going to admit that to him of all people. “who or when i fuck is none of your business,” you spit with venom standing your ground, maintaining eye contact. he wants you to crack, to be shy in the presence of him and his nonsense.

too bad for him.

he chuckles. that damned sound that makes your blood pressure skyrocket from the vibrations. “guess i was right.” his mitt of a hand extends as his calloused fingers tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “a shame really, a stunning beauty like you not getting the treatment she deserves,” clicking his tongue.

you scoff as you slap his hand away, “what do you know about treating anyone right?” the words leave your mouth like a river of molten lava, hoping to burn him with each word you utter. you scan his features to gauge his reaction and you find nothing. not a wince at the low blow you just dished out to him.

toji isn't going to let you see him sweat. you both are alike in that fashion. “touché, but i do know about pussy. and yours is probably in need of a good fuckin’. hmmm?” toji muses as his dark brow lifts, waiting for your answer. “wrong,” you lie. you and him both know you're lying. that's why, like clockwork, a chuckle escapes the back of his throat. he leans dangerously close to your face, lips a millimeter apart from yours.

“oh? bet if i slip my tongue in that begging cunt, she’ll start cryin’ for me," his seductive whisper brushes over your lips and kneads itself into your core, chipping away at the wall you thought you created between you two. “doubt that toji,” you firmly state, making sure to hide your ever-growing thirst from his closeness.

“yeah? come to my bed tonight, and we'll put that to the test," he challenges. a smug bastard is what he is. he truly expects you to say yes to his offer. to drop your guard, letting him finally have a taste of your saccharine slick that he'll happily lap up like a dog to a water bowl. unfortunately for him and maybe you, your pride is still fully intact.

you glare at him, voice raising an octave, “look, even if i were stranded, needy, begging for cock on a deserted island, you'd be the last thing i'd ever fuck.” and with that, you storm out the office heading down the hall towards your lavish bedroom without sparing him a glance. toji is left alone mulling over what just happened. your words said one thing but the appetite in your eyes said another. that passion, that fire, it's what keeps toji coming back.

you're normally so docile, polite even, to his boss and the other men who worked alongside him. but with toji, the real you came out. and for that, is why his interest is piqued.

“atta girl”

@shokosprincess @shaguro @sttoru @chromimis — *mwah*

#✎ᝰ. ( signed your majesty ) !#toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen x you

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anton-luvr · 7 months

Note

Heyy could u do a fic where boyfriend!Anton makes out with fem!reader for the first time and is really shy but likes it and doesn’t want to stop, like really sweet and a little suggestive 🥹💖Tyy

# FOREVER.

𖦹 bf!anton x fem!reader | fluff & suggestive | college au 𖦹 note ; THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA ARGHH thank u anon i hope u like this + reqs are open!

You love being close to Anton.

You love how soft his hands feel in yours; you love the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at you; and you love how gently he kisses your forehead each time he says goodbye.

The evening had started out as usual: going back to your place after classes, Japanese takeaway for dinner, and an episode of your favorite sitcom, The Office.

But you could tell something was on Anton’s mind tonight. He seemed nervous, and he kept spacing out.

“Is everything okay?” You asked softly, concern evident in your tone. Anton immediately nods, flashing you a shy smile. “Yeah, just thinking about something," he mumbles.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Do you wanna talk about it? You can tell me anything.”

He bites his bottom lip nervously at this, glancing hesitantly at you.

“Anything?” he echoed.

"Anything." you repeated, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

The curly haired boy lets out a sigh, burying his face in his hands and groaning a small, “This is so embarrassing.”

“But you won’t laugh at me, right?” He asks. You chuckle at this, shrugging. “I’ll try my best.”

Anton nods, slowly scooting closer to you on the bed. “So. I was wondering if we could... m-make out?”

Now, you love your boyfriend, but the moment you heard his question, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh!” he splutters, his face burning a crimson red.

“I’m sorry!” You gasped, still laughing.

“I just wanted to ask because I’ve never done it before, but I also want to kiss you, but then again I didn’t know how to bring it up, and I-”

“Sure,” you giggled, cutting his rambling off and softly pushing him down on the bed.

“We can definitely make out.”

Anton’s heart was already racing a mile a minute, but the moment your lips connect, he feels like his heart could jump right out of his chest.

His eyes fall shut, and all he can feel is how right and how good it feels.

Your soft vanilla-flavoured lips against his, a shudder running through his body when you slip your tongue against his.

“Is that okay?” you whisper, slightly breathless. Anton nods readily, biting his tongue to hold back a whimper.

“Y-Yeah, keep going." he stutters.

He groans when your lips meet his again, his hands now under your shirt and caressing your waist.

Like puzzle pieces, your lips fit against each other perfectly.

Your bedroom fills with the sound of soft and airy moans, and Anton wonders why he waited so long to do this with you.

When you finally pull away from each other, you wish you could take a picture of how gorgeous your boyfriend looked.

His black unruly hair messy from your hands running through them, his lips swollen as he catches his breath, and his cheeks dusted a light pink.

“God, you look so pretty." you sigh.

He shakes his head as he tries to pull you back. “Don’t care, I wanna keep kissing you.” he mutters, drunk on the feeling.

You place your hand against his chest, stopping him. “If we keep kissing, you’re going to end up home by midnight.” you chuckle.

To your surprise, Anton tugs at you again. “Really don’t care,” he mumbles against your lips. “Wanna kiss you forever, s'feel too good.”

Your heart flutters at his words, smiling into the kiss.

“I’ll kiss you forever."

#anton-luvr asks!#kpop fics #kpop fluff #riize #riize anton #riize fics #riize fluff #riize smut #kpop #anton riize #riize eunseok #riize icons #riize moodboard #riize seunghan #riize wonbin #riize shotaro #riize sungchan

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oreosmama · 7 months

Text

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts.

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance.

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes.

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet.

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting.

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle.

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.”

You suck in a breath.

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.”

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead.

“I need you back.”

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing.

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek.

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was.

“I didn’t know…”

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return.

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly.

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache.

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time.

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow.

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull.

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears.

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his.

Were.

You were his.

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb.

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it.

“I need to see you.”

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face.

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.”

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do.

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys.

Then the sound of a door slamming.

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving.

“I need to see you.”

And the voicemail ends.

_________________________

Satori Tendou:

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief.

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond.

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it.

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs.

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker.

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg.

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something.

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months.

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day.

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went.

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done.

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke.

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon.

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking.

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh.

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time.

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue.

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself.

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled.

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyu x reader #satori x reader #oikawa tooru #tendou satori #satori tendou #tooru oikawa #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu headcanons

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illyrianbitch · 25 days

Text

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.

Warnings: males bein males about females (but theyre well meaning), brief mentions of sexual encounters, crack & friendship fluff!!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was one thing about Cassian that you’d come to know over the centuries you’d been friends: the male could talk.

He was on a new tangent now, describing the details of a strange dream he’d had a few days prior, casually laying across the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rests. How his wings weren’t uncomfortable being smushed underneath him and the couch cushions, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to ask and risk another hour long explanation of how nothing phases him because he's “just that male.”

“And the princess next to him looked exactly like Az-”

You let out a groan, pushing yourself to sit upright from your current slouched position, staring at Cassian with a confused expression. “Cass,” you said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stopped mid sentence, turning to look at you with an open mouth and a blank stare. “My dream. Were you not listening?”

You gave him a look. “No.”

He frowned. “Well, that's rude. I listen to all of your dreams.”

“No, you don’t.”

He stilled for a moment, holding your stare, and then a giant grin broke out on his face. “Ah, you got me. I don’t.”

You let out a small snort before shaking your head and taking another deep breath. “Can we get back to why you needed to talk to me in the first place?”

Cassian’s face lit up in acknowledgement, and then he was readjusting himself to a proper sitting position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Right, okay. I need your expertise on matters of the heart."

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay…”

"Alright, so you know that female I’ve been with?"

You raised your eyebrows. “You have to be more specific than that.”

He stilled for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grinned, “The one who I said tasted like honey?”

You grimaced at his description. But Cass didn’t notice as he continued, “She’s super pretty. Real nice too, she gave you those little treats, remember?”

You thought back to the previous weeks, faintly remembering running into a female in the kitchen. You were still hungover from the night prior, so you didn’t remember much about the small conversation you’d held with her, but you did remember those treats— and the way she stared at Cassian longingly.

“I remember,” you finally said. “What about her?”

“I like her. I think she’s really cool. So, I want to do something to impress her, maybe ask her out for real.”

You smiled at him, a small, gentle, upside down smile that formed a small pout as you said, “Aw, Cass, you softie.”

The male in front of you grinned again, offering you a small shrug. “What can I say, I’m pussy-whipped.”

Your smile fell and you rolled your eyes. Well, that moment was nice while it lasted. You took a deep breath before leaning forward more, matching Cassian’s posture.

"She really liked you, so I don’t think you can go wrong. Just do what feels right.”

Cassian’s grin grew as he nodded his head in contemplation. "Alright,” he said, “Hear me out. I'm thinking of making a grand gesture outside her apartment, something to really show her how I feel."

You nodded, intrigued. "Okay, go on."

"And get this," He leaned in closer, a childlike glee in his voice as he continued, "I'll do it butt-ass naked, with a ribbon tied around my—"

Your hand shot up in front of you, a single finger pointed to cut him off mid-sentence. A deep sigh escaped you as you brought the hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"So, I stand corrected,” you said with a disappointed nod. “You can go wrong."

Cassian's expression faltered, confusion evident in his features as he frowned. "What? You just told me—"

"Yeah, that was before you said that terrible idea," you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief. "Don't do that. Do anything but that."

He sat up straighter, his lips slightly upturned now, a glint in his eyes. "Anything?"

You paused, remembering your earlier encouragement. Then you let out a deep sound of frustration. "Dude, just get her some flowers."

"But that's so boring,” he whined, “Like, Rhys boring. I gotta go big or go home, you know?"

You let out a groan at the ceiling, letting yourself fall back into the couch with an exasperated flare of your hands. "At this rate, please go home. I'm begging you."

But then, just as Cassian was about to let himself fall back into the couch, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I've got an idea,” he said, quickly jumping off the couch.

He stopped midway, turning around to walk over to you in a few quick strides. He leaned down, managing to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before running away again.

“Thanks, Y/n. Love you!”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was a quiet morning in the townhouse, gentle rays of sun shining through the opened kitchen window. You rubbed your tired eyes as you looked outside, waiting for the remnants of your sleep to disappear with the new day. Your hands held onto the small apple in your grasp, running your fingers along the fruit as you stared outside. With a small hum of contentment, you turned around to head back to your room.

You bumped into a large mass as you turned around, a dark figure shrouded in shadows as it stood still before you.

“Holy fuck!”

The apple fell from your hands as you jumped back, eyes blinking rapidly as Azriel’s presence registered before you, a small amused smile on his face. You let out a deep breath, hands flying to your heavily beating heart. You glared at him, your gaze quickly flickering down to your waist, where a small black mass floated around your apple— suspended in mid air as it was caught during its fall.

You quickly snatched the apple back, watching as the shadows happily trailed back to Azriel, their black forms settling behind his back and above his shoulders. You brought your glare back to Azriel’s face.

He did this to you often, quieting the sound of hit footsteps with his shadows to make his entrances stealthy and unnoticed. It never got old to him, how often you’d get caught off guard and send a glare his way, usually accompanied by a string of curses he’d never heard put together.

“Footsteps make noise for a reason, Az,” you grumbled, “So you don’t make your loved ones shit their pants.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, and you didn’t miss the movement of a lone tendril moving towards you— you lightly swatted it away, redirecting it like a small, curious puppy.

“I didn’t mean literally, you ass.”

Azriel only grinned in response, a small laugh leaving his lips. “It just never gets old.”

His hair was slightly tousled, messy across his forehead. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, a casual, lazy look that he often adorned on quiet, slow, mornings like these— this version of Az, laid-back and comfortable, was one solely reserved for the townhouse, and only for you and your family.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. “What do you want?”

Az frowned slightly. “Good Morning to you, too, I guess.”

“It was a good morning, until you disrupted my peace. What do you want?”

Azriel’s face held a mischievous smile as he shrugged. “Why do you think I want something?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because I know you. And you’re wearing your I need a favor face.”

He scowled at this, letting out a small sound of offense. “That's not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” he protested again, “I don’t have faces. This is just my face.”

“Az,” you groaned. “Get to the point please. What do you want?”

He let out a sigh of defeat before he shifted on his feet. “Fine, I need your he-”

You pointed an excited finger in his face. “Aha,” you said loudly, “I knew you needed something!”

Yet again, he scowled at this, lightly knocking your finger out of his face with his palm. He gave you a flat look.

“Ow.”

“Can I speak now?”

You held your hands up in resignation, finally bringing the apple to your mouth as you took a small bite.

“Pierla won’t leave me alone.”

You frowned at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Who?”

Somehow, Azriel’s face fell even flatter, and he stared at you with an unammused look. “Y/n,” he said, almost scolding you with an exasperated tone.

“What?” you said. “I’m sorry I don’t keep track of every female you guys bed. My fault.”

He rolled his eyes, and you resisted the urge to either scoff in disbelief or mimic his movements. Sure, laid-back and comfortable Azriel was reserved for the townhouse and morning like this, but so was sassy Azriel and his impatience as well. You preferred the first— and only the second when it was directed at anyone but you.

“I slept with her like five days ago.”

“Okay,” you drawled, “And now she won’t leave you alone.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh.

You stared at him, brows still furrowed, a frown now on your face that crinkled your nose. “Well that sucks.”

He stared at you again, the same flat and unamused look on his face. A flicker of irritation ran through his hazel eyes. “Y/n.”

You lifted your hands up in exasperation, the apple still held in one hand, adorned by the lone bite you’d been granted to take. “What?” you responded, “The hell am I supposed to do about that? That’s a pp.”

“A pp?”

You pursed your lips, preparing yourself to hold back a laugh. “A personal problem.”

He let out a sound of frustration. “Really?”

You let your mouth fall open in response. “Again, I reiterate, what am I supposed to do in this situation?”

“I don’t know!” His hands flew out in desperation as he shrugged, his shadows bouncing to the edges of his fingertips. “Help me, or something. Please.”

“Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Vocally? No. Physically? Yes.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Azriel brought a finger to the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes, not waiting for him to respond as you added, “Why are you acting frustrated right now? You put yourself in this position, Az.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the conversation, Az scowled. “I’m well aware of the position I’m currently placed in, Y/n.”

You brought the apple to your mouth, taking advantage of the moment of silence to actually indulge in the sole reason you’d been in the kitchen in the first place. Taking a few seconds to chew, you mulled over the options at hand.

“Next time you’re with her, just stare.”

Azriel blinked. “What.”

“You have this stare you do when you zone out, it's creepy. And unnerving. It makes me want to apologize for things I’ve never done.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, a slight smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes before letting your face fall, as you frowned at him, arms falling lax at your sides. “You do it on purpose, don’t you?”

His smirk grew. “Never,” he replied, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “But good idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Y/n.”

As he turned his back and began walking out, you quickly sent a vulgar gesture to his back, angrily sticking up your middle finger in mockery.

“Saw that,” he sang over his shoulders. You casted your gaze down to a lone shadow that danced before you.

“Snitch,” you whispered down to it, watching as it began sliding to Azriel’s retreating form.

His voice rang out from the hallway, “Heard that, too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Velaris was extra lively this morning, and it made your day even better.

You always found it so special that despite his duties as High Lord, Rhys never missed the tradition of getting breakfast with you every other Wednesday. You couldn’t quite remember when the tradition started, surely centuries ago when you both were younger, deciding that Wednesday’s needed a specific pick-me-up to get through the rest of the week. But the tradition formed, and it stayed for centuries. And, truly, you loved it. It always gave you a sense of comfort— a reminder that things may always change around you, but never when it came to the bond you shared with your boys, and with Rhysand especially.

But Rhys was quiet this morning, absentmindedly picking at the flakes of the croissant on his table.

You let out a small laugh. “Okay, spill. What the hell happened to you?”

Rhys slowly angled his head to look up at you, face distorted in defeat. “Females,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”

You frowned, placing the croissant back down on the plate before you. You dusted your hands of crumbs. “Usually you say that word with a lot more excitement.”

He raised his eyebrows in response, and you watched as he rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

You lifted an eyebrow of your own. “What did you do?”

He brought his gaze back to you. “I’ve been fucking around with the twins.”

You frowned in confusion.

“...Nuala and Cerridwen?” You whispered, leaning closer to him, face scrunched.

You let your mind wander for a moment, thinking about the two twins that Rhysand had welcomed into your home. You loved the sisters dearly, and even you can admit they were beautiful— a type of beauty you didn’t really know how to describe, but beautiful nonetheless. But they were more shadows than they were form, not tangible enough to….have sex with, you assumed. You blinked.

“W-What?” Rhysand said, eyes widening slightly. “No. The twins from Rita’s last weekend.”

“Oh,” you breathed out with a relieved smile. And then you thought back to the two females Rhys had left with, a grin forming on your face.” Oh,” you said, amused. You leaned forward bumped his shoulders with a gentle fist. “Nice.”

“Not nice,” he grumbled, letting his back fall against the metal back of the chair. He let out an exasperated sigh. Your gaze trailed to the streets next to you, catching the sight of a few passerbys taking in the scene of their defeated High Lord. You cleared your throat, leaning forward in your chair to place your elbows on the table.

“Okay, I’m confused,” you said, “Why is this not a good thing? Seventeen year old Rhysand would be pissing in excitement right now.”

Rhys let out a small snicker at this, a small smirk on his face at the image. But then it quickly fell when he let out another grumble.

“Rhys, people are looking at you and making fun of you.”

He sprung up at this, eyes quickly searching his surroundings. He made eye contact with a few citizens, sprouting a large, charming grin on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. The groups hesitantly gave a wave back, opting for small smiles before they went on their way.

Rhysand then looked at you once more, leaning forward to grab your hands in his.

“I’m an honest male. I’m allowed to make mistakes, right?”

It was becoming suspicious now, and you narrowed your eyes at him with pursed lips.

“What did you do?”

He gave you a small, guilty smile, perfect teeth on display.

“I bought them flowers, right? Just a sweet, classic, gesture to show them I was interested.”

You resisted the urge to laugh. It was, indeed, a sweet gesture, but Cassian’s words from earlier in the week rang in your mind, his joke about flowers being a boring move-- a boring Rhys move. You didn’t hide your amusement well enough, though, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes at you, tapping your hands lightly to draw your attention back.

“What?” he said.

You shook your head, giving him a small, inconspicuous smile. Then you offered him a shrug. “Nothing. Keep talking.”

He kept his eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he gave up, letting out another dramatic-Rhysand sigh. “But apparently, I gave each of the flowers to the wrong twin. And now they’re mad that I can’t tell them apart. I mean, they’re identical, Y/n. As amazing as I am, I’m no god.”

You let out a small snort, staring at him with an amused smile. “You can literally read minds.”

He opened his mouth. And then closed it.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

You laughed, readjusting your hands so now it was yours that lay otop of his. You gave a gentle pat. “But that’s wrong. So you need to find a way to differentiate them, at least if you want to keep whatever it is you have going.”

“It’s fun,” he said, as a grin began to grow on his face. “One female is great, but sisters?” He let out a small whistle, “Whole other experience.”

You grimaced. “Rhysand,” you scolded, “Don’t be such a male. I was going to offer to help you. I take it back.”

“No, no,” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. He then gave you a pout, “Please.”

You held his stare for a moment, watched as he titled his head and gave you an innocent, charming, boyish smile.

“Fine,” you finally said, “But you owe me.”

Rhysand grinned, large and broad, as he sat back into his chair and picked up the small desert on his plate. “I always do,” he said with a gleam in his eye, bringing the croissant to his mouth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It took you a few days, four to be exact, before you were able to fulfill the promise you’d made to Rhysand. It was nighttime now as you finally returned to the townhouse for the day. From down the hall, you could see the dim faelight pouring out from Rhysand’s office, his door wide open.

Once you reached the doorway, you perched yourself in it, leaning against it as you cleared your throat.

“Leyra is slightly shorter and has two dimples. Kerala has shorter hair, one dimple, and a freckle on her chin.”

Rhysand looked up from his papers, sitting up right in his chair with a smile on his face. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”

You gave him a grin. “Add it to the list.”

Rhys laughed, tilting his head as he took in a relaxed breath. “Thank you.”

You gave him a small nod of your head as you began walking out. But before you took a step to leave, you popped your head back into the view of the doorway, wrapping your hand around the edge of the frame.

“Kerala also has a freckle on the inside of her right thigh. Kinda looks like a little heart.”

Rhysand’s face furrowed, and then his mouth fell open slightly. He narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

You grinned at him for the second time that night, giving the frame of the doorway a pat with your hands. Then you shrugged. “You never told me how you wanted me to help.”

Before Rhys could register your words, you were walking away, your figure disappearing from his open door.

When it finally hit, Rhys let out a small chuckle. Then, he shrugged to himself, returning to his work with an amused smile.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

bat boys tag list 🫶🏻: @willowpains @maevecrom @vansaddy

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lalunalando · 7 days

Text

The Love You Want - LN4

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, fluff (may make you cry a little), angst, swearing, slight degradation, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

songs referenced: The Love You Want - Sleep Token / Granite - Sleep Token

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

2 years.

It’s been 2 whole years since the love of your life walked out your front door after telling you it was over, he couldn’t handle the relationship alongside his career anymore, and that he never actually loved you.

So imagine the surprise you felt when you stepped out of your apartment elevator after returning from a long day of work, only to find him sitting at your door, a basket of dog toys and a bunch of your favorite flowers in hand…

“Lan? Wha-When did you get here? What are you even doing here?” You asked, shock evident on you face as you stood frozen like you’d seen a ghost.

“Oh thank god you didn’t move! I was hoping I wasn’t waiting outside some random apartment and about to scare a stranger” he chuckled, the sound that once felt like home to you now leaving your stomach feeling instantly nauseous.

“Lando, don’t avoid the question. What are you doing here?” You huff as you brush past him, opening your apartment door finally and stepping inside to put your belongings down knowing this probably wasn’t going to be a quick conversation by any means.

“Do you mind if I come in? This really isn’t a talk I want to have out here in the hallway..” he asks awkwardly, gauging your reactions and movements, expecting you to even slam the door in his face after the last time you both spoke. He deserved that, he knows it, but he really hopes you’ll let him in because he has so much he wants to say to you.

You move out of the doorway to let him through with a sigh that doesn’t go unnoticed, twisting at his heart knowing he’s at fault for how this is making you feel.

After closing the door behind him, you turn around and nod towards the dog toy basket with a confused look.

“Oh, I was hoping the pups were still here to give them to, I miss our kids…” he says as he looks down at the floor, suddenly wondering if it was still okay to call them “ours” as if he didn’t walk out on you all.

“They do, they’re just having a play date with the neighbors while I was at work, they’ll be dropped off in an hour” you respond as you head to the fridge, suddenly the bottle of wine in the fridge is seeming very tempting to crack open… “so Lando, I’m going to ask one more time, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can get out in the moment, he knows there’s a million other things he wants to say, but he froze, and that was the basis of why he was here anyway.

You freeze, halting the glass of wine you were currently pouring, and just stare at him blankly.

“Right, yeah, I should probably explain a little more than that” he laughs nervously while scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, well, I fucked up. I should never have walked out back then, I should have never said you were too much of a distraction to my career to be with and more than anything I should never have lied and said I never loved you.”

“Lan, it’s been two years, why now? Where is this suddenly coming from after two fucking years of no contact whatsoever? And why do you think I want to even hear it? What if I’ve moved on.” It all comes out before you can even stop yourself, the hurt and anger you’ve been keeping in since that day making you see red.

“I never stopped thinking about it, about you. I thought I couldn’t handle being away from you all the time and that you wouldn’t want to wait around for me all the time, but after every race I still just want to come home to you. And I know you haven’t moved on because the love we shared was once in a lifetime, I’m still full of the love you want, please just let me prove it to you. You can tell me you don’t still love me and I’ll leave you alone for good, and maybe you believe that in the end you will be better off that way, but I’m begging you to give me one more chance and I’ll be full of the love you want, no matter what, forevermore.”

By the time he’s done speaking, you both have tears in your eyes.

It was never truly over, you knew you could never stop loving him, no matter how much it hurt you.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re rounding your kitchen bench and closing the space between you both.

Desperate to feel his lips on yours and make up for the two years lost, to show him the love you harbored for him never left.

And boy, did he feel it all.

You needed more of him, you knew it was pathetic of you to fold so quickly but you’d already lost two years and didn’t want to waste any more of it, and when he wore that god damn playboy hoodie you always said you loved seeing him wear, there was no point denying how much you wanted him still.

“I hate that you still have this affect on me, I hate that I never stopped loving you, but most of all, I hate that you’ve still got me in a chokehold”

That confession is all he needed from you before he’s picking you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you down the familiar hallway to your room that he’s traveled so many times before, but with a newly found appreciation for all the pictures along the walls that you could never find it in your heart to switch.

As he throws you down on the bed and climbs over you, eyes blown and full of lust and longing, you can’t help but to admire him.

The gorgeous everchanging eyes, his adorable freckles and moles, and a slight beard he was finally able to grow after years of being teased by the other guys on the grid.

His lips are instantly back on yours, taking all the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his own as if it was the only way you could both live from then on.

You tug at the hem of his hoodie as his hands slide up your thighs to the edge of your skirt, both not ashamed of how fast you need the others clothes off.

Only pulling back for a second to take his hoodie off, his lips are immediately back on you, only finding their way down your throat this time.

Biting just hard enough to make you yelp, he’s instantly soothing the pain as he laps his tongue over the spot, causing you to whimper like the desperate little slut you always were for him.

Hands continuing their mission up your skirt, an almost animalistic growl comes from his throat as his fingers find the lace of your thong, completely drenched for him already.

“Always so ready for me baby, god you couldn’t be more perfect, you were made for me just like I was for you.” His voice filled with lust and love, reminding you that you will always be his.

Flipping you both over and settling you on his lap, he can’t help but want to draw it out a little longer, tease you a little more, make you beg for him.

You grind down on his lap, desperate for even a little relief, because as much as you hate to admit it, no one in the past two years has made you feel even remotely the way he does without even trying.

You’d had your fair share of fixes throughout the two years, using many men to your advantage to try and get over him, but none of them even came close to making you forget. No one did it as good as him.

“Someone is still just as needy and desperate as always huh?” You can feel the smirk even though his lips are against your neck, making you whimper again, just proving his point. “Do you want to show me just how much you missed me too? How good you can be for me?”

“Please Lan, need you, will do anything but I need you”

He laughs, and you know he’s got something sadistic and borderline humiliating in mind, but you don’t care because he knows you’ll do anything for him, you always will.

“Such a good girl, can you straddle my thigh for a second baby?” He says with a smirk you know means trouble.

You do as he says, and shift over to his thigh, giving him a look of confusion as you wait for his next instructions.

“Now baby, I want you to ride it.”

You gasp, this was new for the two of you but you couldn’t deny that it excited you a lot to try.

“I want to see how desperate of a slut you can be for me, I want to watch you get yourself off with nothing but my thigh.” He breathes into your ear as his hand hold your hips, helping you find a stable rhythm.

You can’t stop the sounds coming out of your mouth, and he wouldn’t want you to even if you could.

If Lando could listen to one thing on repeat for the rest of his life, it would be your sweet moans that only he can get out of you time and time again.

As you get louder and start stuttering your rhythm on his thigh, he knows you’re getting close.

“That’s my girl, come on, cum on my thigh and I’ll reward you for behaving so well baby”

That was enough to send you over the edge for what would be the first of many times that evening, screaming his name loud enough that you were sure the whole of Monaco could have heard you.

Still coming down from your high, he doesn’t give you a second to recover before he flips you back down onto the bed as he rids himself of his now ruined pants before pulling your own ruined panties off and climbing straight back over you, claiming your lips once again.

He doesn’t want to wait anymore, watching your angelic face as you came around his thigh was almost enough to make him finish right then and there. He couldn’t lie, he’d obviously been with a few women as well over the last two years while he tried to forget you, but he could never forget you, no one could ever compare to his girl.

Leaning over to your side drawer to find a condom where he knows you both used to keep them, he comes up empty and a little confused.

“I got rid of them, I never brought anyone over anyway.”

And it was true, you always went to your flings places instead, you couldn’t stand the thought of them ruining the memories shared between you and Lando in that apartment, in that bed.

“Do you want me to go grab some, i can run down t-“

“You don’t need it, i trust you.”

He stared at you in shock, he could count on one hand the amount of times you’d allowed him to go in raw before, and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He didn’t have to think much longer, your hand reaching down to tease his already painfully hard cock was all the confirmation he needed that you were serious about it.

Swiping his tip through your wet folds to help lube him up, he lines his tip at your entrance and slowly pushes in.

Seeing you slightly wince as you readjust to his size, he’s quick to worry.

“If you need me to stop at any point please just tell me” he says in a hurry.

“Just need a sec Lan, i forgot how big you are…” you said with a whimper, not missing the smirk that flashes across his face.

After a few seconds to get comfortable again, you’re urging him to move and he doesn’t hesitate for a second.

Slowly fucking you with more and more of his cock with each thrust until he’s bottoming out, he can’t help but moan at how you feel around him.

“Baby I’m not going to last much longer if you keep squeezing me like that, feel so warm and tight around my cock, this pussy was made for me”

This has you clenching around him again, drawing out the most feral growl you have ever heard from the man.

In an instant, he’s pulling out of you much to your disappointment, only leaving you feeling empty for a moment while he flips you over onto your front and pulls your ass up, digging his fingers into your hips so roughly that you’re sure there are going to be bruises in the morning.

Good thing he knows you love being marked up by him.

As soon as your ass is up, he’s quick to shove his cock back in, not giving you a moment to adjust as he starts mercilessly pounding you from behind.

This new angle somehow hits deeper, feeling him hit your cervix wall over and over again, mixing pain with pleasure and making you scream for him.

“That’s it angel, scream my name, tell everyone who’s making you feel this fucking good”

As he continues his brutal punishment on your pussy, winding a hand around your front to use his always skilful fingers to rub tight circles on your clit and help you chase your high, he feels your walls start to tighten again as your legs start to shake and knows his won’t be far behind.

“Where do you want me to finish princess? I want you to cum on my cock like the good girl you are but i won’t be able to last much longer” he grunts as he continues his rough pace, getting sloppier with each thrust as you tighten more and more with each one.

“Fill me please, need to feel you inside of me, this pussy is yours and only yours” you pant out, only fueling him to get rougher and faster, pushing you over that edge.

“Scream for me baby, i want all of Monaco to know who you belong to” and with that, you’re seeing stars. His name being the only word on your lips over and over again while you clamp around his cock, feeling his release only seconds after your own as he bites your shoulder to muffle his own moans.

You lay there for a while in pure fucked-out bliss, Lando having moved to be beside you and move your head onto his chest while his arm is around you playing with your hair.

“So, what does this mean for us now?” You have to ask, as the doubt starts creeping in again.

“I know i have a lot to make up for but if you’ll have me, i want to be yours again. I want to stay over whenever you’ll have me here, i want to fly you out to races with me when you can, but mostly, i want to show the world how much i love you, show them what I’m doing this all for at the end of the day”

Tears start welling in your eyes, and all you can do is nod before kissing him again, showing him all the emotions you can’t verbally say right now.

Just as the kiss starts heating up for another round between you two, a loud knock on your front door interrupts the moment.

“Cunt” is all Lando can say in frustration, making you laugh before getting up and pulling your panties back on and chucking his playboy hoodie on to cover you so you can answer the door to the intrusion.

As he lays there and waits for you to return, he can’t stop smiling and thinking about all the ways he plans to make everything up to you.

Maybe a ring in the near future, to show how serious he is and always has been about his angel…

Before he can think much longer, your two puppies come bouncing into the room looking for him, having smelt his familiar scent the moment they got home.

He can’t stop the wide smile from forming on his face, this was it.

This was home, and he never planned on leaving again.

As you stepped back into the room, you couldn’t help the smile forming on your own face.

The boy you loved with every fiber of your being, squealing while being attacked with kisses and jumped on by your fur babies. Your joint fur babies. Your little family was whole again.

Walking over to him you stop before him on the bed, him reaching out to pull you down onto his lap as you sigh happily.

You turn to look him in the eye and hold his face gently, you were glad he was back.

“What are you thinking now babe?” He asks, seeing the all too familiar look in your eyes

“I was more than just a body in your passenger seat, and you were more than just somebody i was destined to meet. I see you go half-blind when you’re looking at me. I love you Lan.” Kissing him again, sealing all your feelings and fate, giving yourself over to him for good.

572 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 5 months

Text

click! 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep, all ocs r black coded, crack, alcohol, arguments, more slut-shaming, bullying, disordered eating, brief mentions of sexual harassment/assault, sex for like a second, failed orgasms, masturbation, slight exhibitionism

one. three. four.

A/N: heyyyyy…. how yall doin🤭🤭 a little something before i go back to work kms

“So, lemme get this straight,” Abby pinches a lollipop stick between her fingers like it’s a blunt, adjusting the invisible glasses on her face, “The psycho just barged in?”

“With all of her shit! Didn’t even bother to say good morning or anything!”

It’s been hours since the squash-loving hermit took refuge in your home, and you’re sizzling with rage as you recall the events from earlier. You clocked out zoomed to Abby’s building in no time.

“Damn… why didn’t you call security… or the landlord? She can’t just move in without signing the contract.”

You pace around Abby’s rug-covered space, “Bitch, I don’t fuck with feds and rent’s due in two days!” You holler, “And she did sign the contract! I haven’t signed it yet because I didn’t know she was gonna show up and act like that. You’re not disrespecting me in my own house.”

Her head shakes, “What’d I tell you? If it were me… we wouldn’t have any problems.”

You point a scolding finger at the smirking blonde girl, “Yes, we fucking would. Don’t start.”

But she presses anyway, “I think we’d be a match made in heaven, actually.” She rises from the couch and hovers over you, the tip of your index connecting with her strong, covered chest. Your glare persists, but there’s warmth pulling in your gut from her scent.

Your skin is flaming; This is why you’ll never be able to have a serious conversation — or anything, for that matter — with Abby. Her raunchy remedies aren’t going to work in this situation; You’re too stressed.

“But anyway,” Her brow arches and she backs off. Slightly. “You’re an adult and main tenant. You gotta handle it soon.” She ponders for a moment, “But to be fair, you texted her first.”

“How many times do I have to say that I was lit as fuck! I don’t even remember— “

Abby’s taunting expression makes you pause, nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Don’t.”

Your hiss makes her snort, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not funny.”

Abby knows you and Dina’s history better than anyone. Knows exactly how you got caught up in “situationship” nonsense, all with liquor and a phone. You can’t fault Abby for recognizing the familiarity, but a burning sting rests in your chest. Embarrassment spreads all over your cheeks, and you announce your departure in a rush.

Her regret is evident in the way she calls out for you, but you’re out the door in seconds, slamming it as hard as the frame can hold.

The winter air hits your eyes first… You try to convince yourself, hastily wiping the wet trails off your face. You’re not fucking crying over Dina. Not again.

You snatch your phone from your pocket to ask Amaya for advice, but your heart swells when you see her messages.

You think back to all the times she’s coddled you through your emotions: she drops everything to tend to your needs, no matter how big or small. Guilt would put you in the ground if she ruins her opportunity for your convenience; You can’t tell her. She deserves to enjoy herself. You match your best friend’s excitement all the way back to your car.

Abby called twice during the drive back home, but you didn’t answer. You know she wasn’t being malicious, but you’re sensitive, especially when it comes to anything related to Dina.

You rip your apartment door open and find Ellie lounging on your fucking couch with Love Island playing from her laptop. And eating peanuts… with Chick-Fil-A ranch?

You slam her device shut, words sharp as nails, “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m telling you right now, you’re not fucking staying here.” You’re shredding through skin with your glare, but she’s not reacting. Just sitting there and crunching, eyes void.

“Don’t even think about unpacking. You’re getting out tonight, I can promise you that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What.”

She merely shrugs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What the fuck— “

More cracked shells, more munching; Your eyelid is jerking.

“Rent’s on the counter, by the way.”

You hold back a scoff before marching into the kitchen, eyeing the envelope labeled fake ass mortgage. You hear the contestants from the reality show resume their dialogue, but you’re locked on how thick the letter looks to bother scolding.

It’s torn open… and filled with hundred-dollar bills. Way more than half of rent. Ellie might’ve covered the heat bill for the rest of winter.

“I thought you were a fucking photographer.” The shock in your voice is clear as day, mindlessly returning to the living room.

“I am.” She calls dryly.

“No, you’re not.” You toss the money on the coffee table. “The fuck do you do on the side? Sell drugs to freshmen?”

“Sure.”

When your arms cross over your chest with an accusatory stare, she sighs. “I told you. I take pictures.”

“Of who? The fucking councilman?”

Another shrug. “Whoever asks. It’s how I make money…” A light pause. “At least until I secure this job.”

You squint at her, “I thought you got evicted. You’re clearly fit to pay rent on your own.”

That seems to shake her a little, staring back with hardened eyes, “And who the fuck are you to question me? The reason I’m here is because of you!”

“Exactly! This...” Arms waving around the living room. “…is my fucking space! You’re a straggler at best.”

A weighted huff escapes her before she tosses her snack on the table and stands, leaning over the table.

“You would’ve been in the same position as me if I didn’t show up. No where to fucking go,” She spits. “If you want me gone, fine. But when your landlord comes knocking on your fucking door asking why you’re two weeks late, don’t say shit to me.”

You waver slightly and she notices, smirk darker than her pupils. You’re steaming; Smoke is going to come out of your ears soon.

“The same goes for you. I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice, and don’t touch anything that I paid for,” You command, “Don’t even breathe in my space. Stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”

A condescending grin plasters onto her face.

“Where’d you hide that lease?”

Your heart is too weak for hatred… or so you thought.

Abby, Amaya… everyone you’ve fucking talked to about the bitch right across the hall thinks that she’s dangerous and sick and out for blood.

They’re all wrong. It’s you.

Ellie is conjuring up something villainous deep inside you; Her childish antics started off small: bumping against the wall in the middle of the night, leaving her dirty ass shoes out of place by the front door, not laying the rugs that she slipped on flat… Incredibly annoying, but fixable.

You took the time to construct a new roommate agreement that fit your unique situation the morning after your argument. It was sloppily scribbled on a crumpled piece of construction paper, but it was a symbol of peace. You taped it to her door before you left for your shift, only to return and see it ripped up and scattered in front of your door.

It’s been five days since then. Five, and you can already feel a bald spot forming at the back of your skull. To think that Ellie was your first option as a roommate just days ago is laughable now. You know that none of the tricks she’s pulling are accidental. You pride yourself in being observant, and you always catch that prideful look on her face when she nails one of your peeves.

You try to be here when Ellie’s not, but she’s always home when you are. Music blasting in the wee hours of the night knowing you have three upcoming shifts to cover, on the couch rewatching the same episode of Love Island over and over while you make your breakfast, pretending to talk on the phone to friends she doesn’t have as loudly as possible. You’re fucking tired and you’re holding your hand back from slapping her.

But the worst part is that she’s stocked your fridge with fucking squash. Top to bottom in all colors there is. Filled the drawers with one called cucurbita argyrosperma. You were torn between curling in hysterics and beating it over your new roommate's head; The petty side of your brain wishes that you were allergic so you could “accidentally” eat some, die, and get her locked up, but you hushed it. She’s fucking with you, but rent and some bills are paid for the month. What a sick turn of events.

You’re plotting, though. Something’s brewing, and Abby’s helping you. It’s finally Saturday, and college kids are fiending for a rager.

The only quality that you respect about Ellie is that she’s clean. She washes her dishes, does her laundry (separate from yours, thank God), and she’s deep-cleaned the bathroom twice already. Ellie despises large messes more than you, though, since you’re willing to sacrifice your tidy abode to piss her off. Let the ruckus in!

You heard her leave early this morning, and you’ve noticed that when she’s gone, she’s gone, which gives you all the time to plan. You skip to the bathroom like a kid in a candy store, showering, brushing your teeth, doing skincare. You whip up the hardiest breakfast you can before your mall venture with Abby; It’s been days since you’ve last nutted, and you need a new vibrator. And new paintbrushes.

“… Why haven’t you beat her ass again?”

It only took Abby buying food for you to forgive her. You slurp down your strawberry milkshake, “Fear of permanent imprisonment.”

“Does Maya know what’s been going on?” Abby asks, shaking her head.

“Fuck no, and she’s never going to. Have you seen her Snaps?” You whip out your phone and show her Amaya’s stories; She’s exploring and meeting new people. “She’s having a ball! The second I tell her what’s been going on, she’s gonna drop everything and come back. I’m not doing that to her.”

“You’re the only outlet I have, so suck it up and listen to me bitch and moan.” You continue, “Who’s coming tonight?”

She smiles, “As many as I could get.”

“Please tell me Armani’s coming.”

“She is, for sure.”

Your heart flutters. Armani… She’s everything you could ever want and need. She’s kind, smart, drop-dead gorgeous, and she bench presses with Abby on the weekends. She has your clit jumping like a salmon in the freshwater, and you’re going to see her tonight.

You jump awake at your alarm, eyes stinging as you glance at your phone. It’s a little past nine; Pregaming hours.

You throw your lazy body into the shower and conduct your special-occasions ritual, blasting your music as loud as the speaker would allow, scrubbing your body with exfoliant to your heart's content.

You exit, water cascading down your shoulders and back, towel engulfed around your body. You have no idea what to fucking wear; What color does Armani like? Do lesbians qualify for the red nail theory or is that something heteros made up for TikTok followers? What if she doesn’t like eucalyptus scented body wash?

You swallow your doubts with a shot glass.

Outfit prepping takes longer than expected, but you’re dressed, titties are out, and your thoughts are swirling like the liquor in your gut. You should call Amaya and tell her you love her—

Another shot, more dancing. You’re spinning around your small room to the bass of the beat, sloppily pulling every shot that you can, back arching and hips throwing in any direction they can.

The bass sounds louder the more you dance, every thud rattling the poster-covered walls of your room.

It’s not until the bass surpasses the song that you realize it’s not bass at all. It’s knocking… on your bedroom door. You snicker; Abby’s here with your girl.

You don’t know why she’s boxing with your door, though. Beating the shit out of it. When you yank it open, you’re instantly annoyed at who appears behind it.

A… gray sweat clad Ellie propped against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest and red hairs framing her face. You force your eyes upward, right in between hers. The dots on her face look like skittles. Since when does she have a fucking tattoo? Are you hallucinating or is it a fat ass leaf with eyeballs?

You barely registered what she said, “Can you turn that off? It’s almost eleven.”

“Why, absolutely-the-fuck-not.” You slur, and she cringes, nose wrinkling at the scent of liquor on you. “Where’s Abby?”

Ellie’s biceps are… out on the prowl. And the veins in her hands are still there. Just checking. Right between her eyes again.

“Who the hell is that?”

“My bitch.” You chuckle.

Ellie’s eyes widen and you correct yourself.

“N-Not bitch like whore. Bitch like… like, that’s my bitch! She’s great, love her. BFF… not over Amaya, though.”

Ellie’s getting annoyed; Her nose won’t stop twitching. “… Is she coming over?”

“She should be on her way.”

“Is she stupid?”

“What.”

“Is your… bitch stupid?”

“Um, no, she’s not fucking stupid. What the hell are you on.” You snap, offended for your friend.

“Tell her to stay the fuck home before she gets buried.”

… Did Ellie just threaten to kill one of your sneaky-links? Before she gets buried?

“And what the fuck are you gonna do? Just so you know, whatever you do, she’ll double it and send it back! And I’m jumping in, so— “

Your roommate’s gawking in disbelief. “… I meant buried by the snow, you fucking idiot. There’s a blizzard outside.”

You’re flatlining, you can feel it.

“There’s a what.”

“Check the damn news.” She pushes herself off the wall and turns towards her room, “And go to bed. Looks like you need it.”

Her door slams shut. She’s definitely poking fun at your eyebags. You thought you did a good job at concealing them.

A fucking blizzard? December just started. You check your phone, reading the influx of messages from your dad, Amaya, Abby telling you to stay safe and indoors and the party’s cancelled because of the storm and you want to fucking die—

You tear a slit in your blinds and… yup. Pure white is pelting from the dark gray clouds in the sky, the formerly black street painted ivory with ice. Not a car in sight, and if they are, they’re covered entirely.

The harsh reality hasn’t even set in yet. The girl you want to strangle is trapped inside with you; She’s not going anywhere, either. You’re going to be forced to see her everywhere in your two-bedroom apartment. And you’re not having sex tonight.

Plan PISS-ELLIE-OFF was a bust. You’re drunk and hungry—

Your eyes bulge; When was the last time you’ve gone grocery shopping?

You clumsily rush to the kitchen, nearly ripping your fridge door off the handle. When you're met with the pack of cream cheese and mini croissants you bought last week and all of Ellie’s fresh groceries (including squash), you almost start crying. You slept away all your pre-storm chore hours.

Ellie pads in the kitchen with an empty ice cream carton and spoon, headphones blasting in her ears. She doesn’t acknowledge you as she throws away the carton and grabs the unopened bag of salt and vinegar chips. Your mouth waters.

You watch as she rips the bag open, the salty, bitter aroma traveling into your nostrils.

“Ellie.” She can’t hear you over the fuckery penetrating her eardrums!

You tap her shoulder harder than necessary. “Don’t touch me.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS A STORM?”

Her veiny hand — fuck — pushes one of her ear cups over to the side, not even bothering to look at you as she fills her bowl to the brim with the crunchy snack; You never noticed how heavily pierced her left ear is.

“Who are you again?”

Alright. Your tongue gets loose, “You know, you don’t have to act like a fucking cunt all the time! I tried to be nice to you and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause shit talking me with your friends is so fucking nice.” She scoffs and turns, pointed glare set on you. Your stomach drops. How the fuck did she know that?

“Drop the fucking act already. You’re also a cunt…” Her eyes drag over your appearance. “Amongst other things, evidently.”

Ellie’s eyes hold so much disdain, and you instantly feel exposed and gross. Your face sears with embarrassment, arms mindlessly crossing over your chest in attempts to cover up.

“… What the fuck does that mean?” You know what she means.

“You think I’m a fucking freak and a loser and a bunch of other shit I’ve been called since forever?” She sneers, “Then you’re a fucking slut. How’s that for nice?”

Your body locks up, freezes, and you fight back vomit. Ellie grabs her bowl and exits the kitchen, door slamming shut, leaving you to simmer in her spite.

You don’t feel hungry anymore.

You didn’t drink enough last night. You’re awake, and you remember everything. And you’re so fucking hungry.

Guilt festers in your chest like rats, and anxiety is building in your fingers. Your head hurts so bad and your mouth is dry, but you refuse to move from under your blankets to get water. You didn’t even have the energy to take your make-up off last night, mascara and small sparkles smeared all over your pillowcase.

You wallow, using the heavy wind outside as stress relief. People really think you’re a whore with no self-respect, even after a year. Your heart’s hitting against your ribcage at an alarming pace. Deep breaths, that’s all you can do.

Tears jerk in your eyes as you recall every unwanted stare, every cat-call, every grope and dirty text message you’ve received from people you both know and don’t. You freeze and… that’s it. You just don’t move and hope they can read that you’re scared.

Does Ellie feel the same way when people talk poorly about her?

Your breathing techniques aren’t working so you sit up, shaking your hands and digging your palms into your wet eyes. You’re suddenly too hot for blankets.

Your clock reads near noon; You’ve been awake for hours. Your feet plant on the cool wood and sigh in relief before standing and snagging your new paint brushes off your dresser.

Your hands tremble as you fill a water cup and grab a black canvas, setting up your workspace on the floor. You squirt hues of blue, green and white on a dried paper plate and let your brush do the work; You’re not thinking, just painting, smudging, trapping yourself in emptiness. The scene you’re creating is drying your tears; You wish you could escape into the grass field, even for a second.

Your water cup is brown by the time you finish; How long have you been sitting here? The needles in your legs tell you long enough. Your vision will have to wait.

You unlock and quietly open the door… It doesn’t matter, though. Ellie’s awake and silently sitting on the couch. You pay her no mind and venture to the fridge for your croissants and cream cheese, throwing your pastries in the microwave.

Eyes are on you. You feel them in your back.

When the microwave dings, you spread cream cheese all over the buttery dough. Ellie’s hoarse voice freezes you. Not again.

“The blizzard… isn’t stopping.”

You finally inspect your roommate: leg bouncing and brows furrowed, nails between her teeth, eyes locked on the window that shows the heavy snowfall.

“Usually how they work.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t move her, “They said it would pass after a couple of hours yesterday! It hasn’t let up yet!”

“Never listen to weathermen. They make shit up as they go.” You keep your voice curt while you make your plate. It looks a hot mess; You wish you had blackberry jam.

“They can’t make shit up when there’s money on the fucking line!” You hear footsteps from behind you; Ellie’s pacing. “I have a client today. Their photos were supposed to go in my portfolio before I submit it!”

Her statement makes you pause. You didn’t think about that; It’s impossible to travel anywhere at the moment. How the fuck are you going to get to work? You can’t afford to miss shifts. It’s almost that time of the month.

“This was one of the biggest bookings I’ve gotten and I’m gonna miss it because of the fucking weather!”

You don’t know why she's talking to you, so you cut the conversation short. “You’ll figure it out.” You enter your room without another word, slamming the door as hard as noise complaints would allow.

After a few minutes, Ellie’s door slams, too.

Hours pass and you’re covered in paint. Your one flower field turned into three, one with detailed butterflies, one with raining rose petals, one with your mother’s name spelled out with clouds.

Your fingers are sore, but you feel lighter. Those croissants wore off a long time ago; You’re starving. What you’d give for grilled eggplant and shrimp with Greek yogurt and lemon juice—

A soft knock lands on your door, and you stiffen. You stand, legs popping and arms stretching over your head as you wobble to your door.

The second it opens, you're hit with the smell of garlic and herbs and your mouth waters. Ellie stands over you, playing with her fingers. You don’t register that you’re missing pants until she gawks at your bare legs; Warmth spreads across your body and you maneuver so she can’t see them behind the door.

A moment of awkward silence before she chokes, “There’s, uh… there’s soup on the stove.” You scoff, ignoring the growling in your stomach.

“I don’t like squash, Ellie.”

The door slams in her face and she sighs behind the wood.

…

Later that night, you sneak into the dark kitchen, the big pot of soup still on the stove. You open the lid and inspect its contents: shredded chicken, carrots, fucking… green leaves of some sort. You grab a spoon and taste it to be safe. It’s good, and there’s no squash in it. You eat two warm bowls.

The storm calms when you wake the next morning. Thank God; You haven’t had coffee in days.

Ellie’s gone for the day, so you blast music while in the shower. You dry and dress in silence, yanking your underwear and jeans up your legs, throwing on a pair of earmuffs over your earphones and a puffer.

You almost slip on the ice from the sidewalk on the way to you and Abby’s coffee shop before heading to class like normal. You go grocery shopping before your first shift.

Work drags on like normal, legs numb from standing and throat dry from sale attempts at checkout. Who the fuck wants to apply for a credit card for a coffee machine website?

It’s not until your shift is on its last limbs that your heart stops in your chest. The bell rings to the hardware store, and you instantly rush to the back to retrieve your other coworker. It’s Dina. What the fuck.

You burst into the break room, “Raja, Raja, I need a favor.”

She slurps her ramen, exclaiming what around her soggy noodles.

You search for any heads and whisper, “There’s someone I used to fuck outside! Can you take care of her, please, I can’t— “

“Okay, okay, damn. I got it— “

The service bell rings, “Go, go! Hurry up!” Your coworker swallows her noodles and plasters her smile on her face. You hide behind the cracked door and listen to everything.

“Hey, ladies! Sorry about the wait!”

“No problem!” Dina’s laugh sends a pain in your chest, “I just needed a new bike lock. Someone tried to steal mine, like, what the fuck.”

There’s an unfamiliar laugh that melds with Dina’s. “No problem! Would you like to sign up for a Coffee Brewers credit card with your purchase? They’ll repair all filter baskets and decanters for 45% off!”

You almost smile; Dina doesn’t drink coffee. Raja checks them out, and you peer out the small opening of the door. Dina and… whoever the fuck that is are snuggled up behind the service counter, her head resting on the random’s shoulder. They’re whispering and laughing and you’re disgusted. And sad.

They depart with a small bag and Raja almost smashes the door into your face.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Mourning.”

“Damn… sorry, man.”

You shrug and thank your coworker before returning to your position. What could’ve been.

It’s late when you get home.

Ellie’s on the couch; You feel her watch as you unlace your boots and unravel your scarf. You set your bag on the floor and grab your Cheesecake Factory brown bread loaf for your grilled PB&J. Ellie clears her throat; You say nothing.

She coughs louder when you butter your bread.

“Are you sick or something?”

Ellie whips her head around, “No, why?”

“You’re coughing like you’re gonna die.”

Your roommate doesn’t reply, so you turn and toast your bread on the stove.

“How was the soup?”

Your eyes bulge, “Huh?”

“Did it taste… like, decent?”

You stare down at your sizzling toast, “I dunno what you mean.”

Voice flat as ever, she says, “The soup… you had some— “

“No, I didn’t— “

“Wha— I know what was in the pot when I ate. You had some—”

You face her, skin boiling, “Okay, and what about it? Yes, I ate some! I would’ve had three bowls instead of two if I wasn’t so fucking tired! It was good as fuck! I slept like a baby!”

She calls your name but you ignore her, “Sorry, I got my disgusting, slutty germs all over your stupid chicken noodle soup! Is that what you wanna hear! What, are whores not allowed food, either?! Why’d you offer it to me then?!”

Another rushed call of your name, but you press on, “Y’know, you’re actually weird as fuck! Who calls someone a filthy, bottom of the barrel gutter rat then offers them soup the next day! What kinda limbo fuckery are you playin’ at— “

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP… BEEP—

You gasp when the fire alarm sounds. When you turn, your toast is charred black and surrounded by dark smoke. You cut the heat off and push the pan over. Ellie’s running with a towelette, waving it around the beeping alarm.

You grab a washcloth and help her, and eventually it cuts off. Ellie rushes over to the front door and switches the ceiling fan on.

Your sandwich is fucking ruined. Great!

You don’t know why you’re sobbing, but it’s loud. You just want to go to fucking bed. Ellie’s just standing there with a towel in hand, fiddling with her earlobe. How embarrassing.

You push yourself off the counter and turn to go to your room, but Ellie calls for you.

“What?! What now, Ellie!”

She cringes, “I— You’re not a… slut?”

Your teary eyes squint at her. “Are you asking me— “

“No! No, I’m… Sorry? You’re not a slut.” This is the weirdest apology you’ve ever received in your entire goddamn life.

“Well, fuck me! Thanks!” You snark between sniffles. You yank your bedroom door open.

“You’re good at painting!” She shouts, and you stop.

For some reason, you sob harder, and she panics, “Uhh… I mean, like, for an amateur! Like, you’re decent enough!”

Now you’re… laughing? You need to sleep now. Ellie chuckles uncomfortably, and you snicker darkly to yourself, “Life is a fucking joke, oh my god.”

Your fingers dig deep into your wet eyes, and Ellie’s sock-covered feet pad closer.

“Look, I’m not… I don't know what to say.”

“Then don’t talk.”

“‘Kay.”

She stands there in silence and watches you wipe your face on your sweater sleeve, mascara smearing all over the fabric.

“Why didn’t you use squash in the soup?”

“Uh… you wouldn’t have eaten it if I did.”

You nod and stare at the wall. “So, what? That was a peace offering?”

Ellie contemplates what she should say.

“Not really… I mean, I was hungry, but I didn’t care if you ate… some of it, if that makes sense.”

It doesn’t. “Whatever, I’m going to bed.” Her lip curls like she wants to add something, but she doesn’t.

“… Alright.”

“Don’t worry about the pan. I’ll get it tomorrow.” And just like that, you shut the door on her again.

You don’t have the energy to shower, so you undress and tuck yourself in. Your room is warmer than usual.

Ellie’s been acting differently since then.

For the past three days, she’s been greeting you whenever you’re in her line of vision. She even mumbled hi before she took her seat in stats yesterday. It’s awkward and stiff, but there’s always a wave somewhere in her movements. You nod back at her every time.

You’re not sure where your relationship lies with your roommate, but it’s not as… bad? Seeing her doesn’t bother you as much as it did; You suppose it’s the same for her, too.

You’re exhausted; Finals are around the corner, and you’re busting your ass. You had to get another job for the holiday season since it’s you and your dad’s first Christmas together since you were little, and you want to get him something nice.

All you need is a good nut and you’re set for the next two weeks. You miss Abby. She’s been just as busy with nonsense as you have, but you found time to see her later tonight.

You’re stuck in the library trying to make the concept of categorical variables stick, but it’s not working. You’re in a block because you’re thinking about Abby. She should be here to pick you up soon.

You slam your book shut when your phone goes off, a message from… Ellie.

You set your phone down with a small smile. What a weirdo.

You force yourself to study for another hour. Heavy hands clamp down on your shoulders and you shriek, other students looking up in confusion, your hand clasping over your mouth.

Abby’s laughing behind you, warm breaths hitting your ear before she kisses your cheek.

“Hi.” She whispers.

“Hi yourself.”

“Pack that shit up.” Abby points at your books and messy stacks of paper. “Let’s roll.”

You don’t hesitate, shoving everything in your bag in anticipation of your nut. Your clit’s cheering; She’s finally happy.

You’re warm, well-fed, and Abby’s drilling the fuck out of you, but you can’t cum.

Your face is shoved into your friend’s pillow; She’s hitting exactly where you need her to, and it feels good. You’re tipping, but you haven’t tipped. You’ve been on the verge of orgasming for the past ten minutes and it’s driving you crazy.

Your voice is barely there, “Just cuuum, just cum, just cum—“ You’re begging… yourself into her pillow.

Abby sounds so sexy behind you; You’re shocked you’re not convulsing at the sound of her voice alone.

After some time, her hips slowed into a stop, tip nudged inside you.

“… You good?” She exhales.

You throw her two thumbs up. You’re not good at all.

Abby snorts and pulls out, gently patting your hip, “Sit up and talk to me.”

Your legs give out from underneath you and you lay flat. Abby hands you a washcloth and you wipe between your legs while she unstraps her dick.

“I think I’m broken.” You muffle into her slobbery pillowcase.

“You’re not broken, you’re just not feeling it. It’s fine.”

She’s too sweet. You want to cry, “I’m sor— “

“Don’t you dare. Finish your Wingstop.”

“Okay.” You grumble.

Abby drops you off after the movie finishes. The red string that connects her clit to yours snaps as you waddle back up to your apartment.

You enter your shared home and you’re instantly freezing; Ellie’s not here. She hates sleeping when it’s cold.

You and your pussy sigh in relief. Just five minutes by yourself; that’s all you need. Your shoes and backpack are thrown to the side in the nick of time, bursting through your bedroom door and rummaging through your drawer. Your cunt screams eureka when your vibrator turns on. You don’t remember charging the son of a bitch!

Your pants and panties are lunged across your bedroom and you leap into bed. Your toy’s buzzing in your hand, and your walls squeeze in anticipation. Foreplay be damned.

Your eyes shut the second the vibrations hit your clit, trying to imagine a sweaty Abby on top of you, fucking you deep, choking you out. Your orgasm is right there, walls desperately trying to milk the brisk air around you. You shove two free fingers inside, and your muscles latch onto them, pulling them in deeper. It’s right there, just a little more.

“Please, please, c’mon, fuck— “

Your pleas go ignored. Your imagination has never failed you, so why can’t you fucking cum?

Desperate sobs combine with your moans, brain filled with Abby, and Dina. Even Armani slips her way in there and you’ve seen her twice in person, but it’s useless. Your peak never comes.

You’re seconds away from shattering your window with your fucking vibrator. You and Ellie can’t afford to get that shit fixed—

Your clit jumps at the brief image of your roommate, pissed off and berating you about breaking a fucking window. You hate that you don’t fight it, the visions of her and her strong arms, her twitchy nose, her dot-covered face. It’s stirring something vicious in your tummy, and you can’t keep your mouth shut.

You see her on top of you instead of Abby, her short hair loosening from her bun and framing her blushing face. Pretty, moss-filled eyes stare back at you, annoyance and bother replaced with something darker. Needier; She wants you to take from her.

“Fuck, fuck, mmh— “

Your hips buck when your positions switch in your mind, a blushing, spent Ellie, reaching for you, pulling you close, begging to touch her.

You’re so loud when your orgasm splits your brain in two, your stress melting away in an instant, nasty, unspoken visuals of your pouty and weird housemate fluttering beneath your eyelids. You ride your high until you can’t, vibrator clattering to the floor, walls flexing around nothing.

You’re so tired that you don’t bother moving. You pull the covers over your trembling form and knock out, not even bothering to turn your shaking toy off as it rattles on the hardwood.

It’ll be dead by the time Ellie comes home. If she does.

…

Ellie lays on her side in her bed, knees pulled to her chest, her tattooed arm wrapped around her tummy and a hand covering her mouth. Her face is burning hot and her stomach is swirling. Whenever she blinks, she can see you, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you surrender to your release.

Her heart is racing and minutes away from crawling up her throat.

She completely forgets to put in that maintenance request for your broken heater; She’s warm enough under the covers for tonight.

A/N: hi again its finna pick up LEMME COOOOOK LEMME COOK

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