#I suck at drawing benches I noticed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

#i just love the thought that Eddie used to secretly enjoy basketball ‘for some reason’ ❤️#pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #implied homophobia

2K notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 2 months

Text

Signs of Affection (kiss)

Part 2 of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Mammon x gn!MC) (Satan x gn!MC) (Asmodeus x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,100 (we aren't going to talk about the size difference between these shorts okay?)

Mammon

“Geez, that sucked. Two hours of silent studyin’ for an F? I got a different F for that guy: a big ‘fuck you,’” Mammon grumbled to himself with his hands folded behind his head as he walked out of his mandatory extra lessons – or rather, they could have been classified as lessons if he had actually learned anything. Instead, Mammon spent the first 5 minutes trying to read one paragraph four times and the next 3 minutes trying to read the following paragraph before he became acutely aware that the supervising professor for today was watching him. He was clearly disappointed and judgmental of Mammon’s ongoing failure to turn the page. For the rest of his lesson, Mammon alternated between daydreaming about you – twisting your image in his head into a variety of different scenarios from innocent dates to the most depraved acts – and counting how many times he could spot the first letter of your name on the page. At least with the latter, it looked like he was reading.

“Mammon! How was delinquent rehab?” you teased him from your spot on the bench outside of the class.

Mammon shrieked and jumped. “W-what the fuck are ya doin’ here?!”

“MAMMON!” The supervisor poked his head out of the door. “Stop yelling in the hall and go home before I decide to keep you for another hour.”

“Sorry, that was my fault, Professor Amy. I startled him.” You stood up and bowed slightly, hoping the astronomy – and somehow, simultaneously, art – professor would go easy on Mammon if you took the heat.

“Oh, it’s you.” You were right to hope; Amy’s tone instantly softened. “If you’re on your way home, please take this loudmouth with you.”

“Who ya callin’ a loudmouth, man?” Mammon growled. You cupped your hand over his mouth; better late than never.

“Yes, I’ll be on my way now. I was just waiting for Mammon to finish his lessons.”

“Does being an idiot pay off after all?” Amy mused aloud – mostly to annoy the muzzled Mammon. “Very well. Be safe on your way home.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.” You smiled at him and began to drag Mammon down the hall. You only uncovered his mouth once the professor had gone back inside, and you were safely out of earshot.

“’Thank you, sir,’” Mammon mocked you. “Fuck was all that? You ain’t fuckin’ that teacher now are ya?”

“No, you pervert. It’s called being polite. You’d probably get in less trouble if you tried it with a few of your professors.”

“What’cha doin’ bein’ all polite to him for, anyway? Guy’s not even a good teacher, and he clearly has a human kink. Just stay away from him.”

“I almost never talk to him outside of our classes.” You rolled your eyes at Mammon. His jealousy had been excessive recently. As a slight punishment, you decided to tease him. “And why do you know so much about human kinks that you can recognize it in someone else?”

“Shuddup. It ain’t like that!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t have a human kink or nothing,” Mammon yelled. His cheeks burned, and he blurted out, “it’s only you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” you teased, biting back your smile.

“I didn’t say shit. Forget it.” Mammon crossed his arms as he picked up his speed just enough to walk ahead of you, hoping to avoid showing you the blush that stained his face.

“Okay, Mammon.” You dropped it, allowing him a bit of his dignity.

You both walked in silence for a minute until, finally, Mammon slowed down and started to walk beside you again. His blush had calmed. He glanced to the side briefly, trying not to draw your attention, but you noticed and smiled at him. Why do ya always look so cute ‘n happy when you’re walkin’ home with me, huh? What gives? Mammon wondered. If something as simple as walking home could make you smile like that, you were going to start charming demons left and right, and Mammon had no intention of sharing any more of you than he had to. That’s why he was so annoyed by you being nice to that professor. Just thinking about the way that demon’s face softened around you was pissing him off.

Suddenly, Mammon remembered what you had said, and his cheeks reignited in a faint blush. Nervous and masking his shyness with aggression, Mammon asked, “Hey, were ya serious about that back there – about just waitin’ for me to get out?”

“Yeah, of course I was.”

“For real? Ya waited two whole hours?”

“For my favorite hole? Yeah.” You smirked.

“Shuddup!” Mammon’s face burned. “Now who’s bein’ a perv?!”

“At least we’re even.” You smiled sweetly, as if you hadn’t just said something so vulgar – on a public street, no less.

Mammon stopped in his tracks, confidence surging in him. You stopped and looked back, confused. He grinned. “Ya must really love the Great Mammon, huh?”

“Sure do,” you readily agreed.

“I knew it!” Mammon pronounced – as if the occasional doubt had never wandered into his head. While he still had the courage to act, Mammon grabbed the sides of your face and quickly placed a kiss on your cheek. He whispered in your ear, “Thanks for bein’ so sweet to me, MC.”

Before you could register what had just happened, Mammon took off running towards the House of Lamentation. He pulled out his phone, skillfully dodging random obstacles and other demons as he appeared to start typing something. Seconds later, your D.D.D. buzzed.

Mammon: First one home gets a real kiss from the loser. Deal?

You laughed and stared down the street, watching as Mammon increased the distance between you. There was no way you were going to catch up to him.

MC: Deal. 💛

Satan

Satan was utterly thrilled when he found out the library had finally received the book that he requested two months ago. He insisted upon checking it out immediately after class, and since you had studying to do anyway, you went along with him.

With his new book acquired, Satan joined you at the small table you had settled into and began to read. However, his attention’s lifespan was uncharacteristically short despite his initial excitement. Satan’s eyes wandered away from the page, drifting up to you. Each time he tried to refocus on the book, his gaze punished him for a failure to indulge himself by lingering on you.

Few things enticed Satan more than you – especially when you got that serious look on your face. He had tried to keep reading too many times to keep track of, and now he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from you again. So, he just sat there, watching you read over your notes, recopying the most relevant points on a fresh sheet of paper. You were being so diligent.

One of the awful things about demons is that the alarm bells that go off in your head when you think someone is watching you are stronger and scarier when that someone is a powerful demon – and the fear your innate human senses created under the predatory gaze of a demon like Satan, whose sin was a destructive and devastating wrath, was intense. It sent a shiver up your spine, and when you looked up to find Satan’s eyes locked on your face, you jumped in your seat slightly. He didn’t need to look so hungry.

“Please stop staring, Satan.” You looked away, trying to turn your attention back to your studies.

“You don't want me to stare at you?” Satan got out of his seat across the table and took the spot right next to you. He propped his chin up in his hand and stared at you up close, eyeing you up and down with a smug grin on his face. “I want to. What's the problem?"

“It’s a bit distracting to have your eyes on me.” That was at least mostly true. There was no need to mention he was also turning you on in public. “I’d rather you not just stare at me.”

“Is that all?” Satan laughed. “You don’t want me to just stare? Very well.”

Satan leaned in, slowly shutting his eyes, and kissed your cheek. His warm lips lingered on your skin and his hot breath tickled. You could feel another chill run up your spine when his eyes fluttered back open. Even when he pulled back, his mouth hovered just over your cheek.

Another set of eyes landed on you. From a few aisles away, another library regular was stunned in their spot, mortified to have witnessed the Avatar of Wrath kissing a human in the library – not that they hadn’t seen worse. They gave you an awkward wave before turning and walking in the opposite direction, abandoning the book they had been searching for.

“Satan,” you chided him.

“What?” Satan hummed, inching closer to your ear, and whispered, “Do you still want more?”

“Someone saw.” You felt a bit guilty about it, too. Their embarrassment matched yours; in fact, it may have been even worse. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to. And who cares if someone saw? What are they going to do about a kiss on the cheek? It’s fine.” Satan placed another kiss on your cheek before returning to whisper seductively in your ear, “Besides, we’ve done worse. Don’t act so shy and innocent now. Do you need a reminder of all the things we’ve done – or perhaps you’d prefer a physical demonstration?”

What did you do to deserve this? You were just trying to study.

Asmodeus

“You weren’t waiting too long for moi, were you?” Asmo rushed to the table that you had grabbed when you arrived. He had a grin on his lips, but that charming smile was a cover for the guilt and anxiety he felt about being fifteen minutes late for your date. He couldn’t figure out which pair of socks to wear to complement his boots and skirt – and in the end, he just ended up pulling on a pair of lace stockings. Usually, Asmo didn’t care if he was a little late, but the idea of leaving you all alone in a demon-infested night café didn’t sit well with him.

“I would have happily waited much longer – especially when you show up, looking this cute.” You smiled at him sweetly, and every inch of Asmo’s body burned.

“Ooh, you little charmer.” Asmo giggled. “Did you order yet?”

“Of course not; I wanted to wait for you.”

“Such an obedient human,” Asmo teased, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand. He stared at you affectionately.

“I’ve never been called that in my life.” You laughed, and that only made Asmo happier to have said it.

“Want me to go up and order? Just tell me what you want – other than me, of course.” Asmo got to his feet and waited patiently for you to relay your order. With a smile and a wink, Asmo booped your nose. “Excellent. Now make sure to enjoy the view.”

Before you could question him, Asmo spun around and walked toward the register. Each step was a deliberate effort to draw your attention to his legs and ass. Oh. That view. Asmo was a hopeless flirt, but he was awfully sweet, too. Besides, you couldn’t deny that it was a good view.

Unfortunately, as Asmo returned from placing the order, he was faced with the irritating realization that he was not the only view in the café. He caught a handful of demons leering at you – and one of them appeared to be approaching. Not on Asmo’s expensive, crystal watch. He hurried back to the table just in time to cut off the tall demon, placing his delicate hand over your shoulder possessively. With a haunting smile, Asmo stared them down. He announced – more to the other demon than to you, “I’m back, hun. Did you miss me?”

A shiver ran up the demon’s spine, and their eyes went wide. They weren’t about to square up with Asmodeus over a human – not after all the rumors they had heard about bloodlust being stronger in lust demons than those ruled by wrath. The demon awkwardly tried to escape by blurting out, “enjoy your date.”

The demon scurried away quickly, and you looked up at Asmo just in time for his menacing aura to dissipate. “That was weird, right?”

“Some people just can’t act right around cuties.” Asmo dismissed your worry with a lighthearted laugh.

“So, you get that a lot?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t mean me.” Asmo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re so cute it’s drawing attention.”

“I’m not as cute as you, though.” You smiled. “Now, sit down with me.”

“Actually, I was hoping we could snap a few pictures first. Do you mind?”

“Sure, I guess.” You shrugged and started to stand, but Asmo used his hand that was still resting on your shoulder to push you back down into your seat.

“No need to get up,” Asmo cooed. He took a step back and leaned over your chair so he could get right next to your face and drape his arms over you. “This position is perfect.”

Asmo snapped a few pictures. With each one, he seemed to get closer until his cheek was pressed to yours affectionately. He asked you to make a half heart with your hand and completed it with his own. Then, catching you off guard, Asmo kissed your cheek tenderly, waiting a few seconds before finally snapping a picture. He immediately pulled his phone back and stood up to discreetly examine the photo. The shit-eating grin on his face spoke for itself. He was all too pleased with it.

“What was that?” You scoffed. You probably should have anticipated that level of physical affection from Asmo, but sometimes, he still surprised you.

“Hmm? Isn’t it obvious?” Asmo looked down at you, innocently tilting his head. “I had to mark my territory.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. Sure, Asmo was always teasing you and flirting, but you hadn’t quite expected that answer. Asmo giggled and bent over, getting indecently close to your neck.

“I had to mark you,” he repeated in a low, seductive tone. “Would you rather I leave a hickey on your neck right now instead? I’d be happy to.”

“Just be a good boy and sit down.” You sighed. It wasn’t that embarrassing, but all you could do was imagine Lucifer’s voice scolding you for indulging Asmo too much in public.

“Ooh, I do want to be your good boy. Okay.” Asmo grinned, biting back the urge to call you one of a myriad of unacceptable titles, and returned to his seat across from you. He pulled his phone out and started messing with it. “See, I’m behaving.”

You laughed. Something told you that he was not, in fact, behaving. It only took a few minutes of mindless chatting while he continued tapping away at his phone – a habit you were so accustomed to that it usually didn’t strike you as rude – for your suspicion to be confirmed.

Your D.D.D. buzzed with an alert from Asmo’s Devilgram. He posted the picture of him kissing your cheek with a pink heart emoji covering your face – for the sake of your privacy. That was decent of him. You smiled softly, certain that Asmo was watching you. It already had over 6k likes by the time you scrolled down to read the caption: Ugh. My date is so cute that they’re attracting all sorts of attention. No one else deserves to see that cute face tonight but moi~ What do you think, everyone, should I mark them for myself?

Asmo was spared a playful lecture when his name was called at the counter. You got up to help him carry the drinks and food back to your table. The barista seemed to be staring at you, but when Asmo put his finger up to his lips, they got flustered and looked away, returning to their work. Covering your face in the picture served another purpose: Asmo was hiding the gloss mark he left on your cheek. You didn’t need to know about it yet.

Belphegor

Belphie was lucky that you had chosen to sit in the back of the lecture hall where he could comfortably lean up against your shoulder and fall asleep without immediate repercussions. At least he was polite enough to nap on the shoulder for your non-dominant hand so you could continue to take notes as you listened to the lecture. Occasionally, you glanced down at his sleeping face; he looked so sweet, peaceful, and adorable.

The clock ticked down the few remaining minutes of the lecture, which was your cue to begin the wake-up process. Although Belphegor seldom cared what his brothers or the professor thought about him using you as a pillow during class, you found that it was easier to just wake him up before the complaints came rolling in. You set your pen down, pet Belphie gently, and whispered his name so that only he would hear you. A soft moan left him, and he nuzzled into your arm before leisurely opening his eyes with a content smile.

“Good morning, MC.” Belphie whispered into your ear.

Reluctantly, Belphegor forced himself upright and away from the warmth of your body just in time for the lecture to be dismissed. The professor and other students gathered their things and collectively made their way towards the doors. You, however, waited on Belphegor to shake off his nap and get to his feet.

“C’mon, MC. Catch up,” Mammon shouted from the front of the class.

“Give us a second,” you replied at a lower volume.

“Man, you two are so slow. I ain’t waitin’ around forever.” Mammon groaned and made his way slowly towards the door.

“He would know slow,” Belphie muttered just loud enough for you to hear as he stood up.

“Belphie,” you chided him, but your tone went ignored.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes later? Maybe we could review together.” There was a soft, sweet neediness in Belphie’s voice.

“Didn’t you catch the lecture in your sleep like you usually do?” Sometimes Belphie’s ability to remember things that happened around him while he was asleep creeped you out. He was like an unassuming monitoring device if he wanted to be.

“Indulge me.” Belphie knocked his shoulder against yours playfully.

“I always do, don’t I?” You sighed. That was the unfortunate effect he had on you: you always found yourself spoiling him, even when he didn’t deserve it – or rather, especially when he didn’t.

You were just about to walk into the hall when Belphie grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the classroom before the others spotted you. He played with your hand, caressing you with his thumbs. His cheeks were stained light pink as his eyes flitted from your hand to your face.

“What’s the matter, Bel?”

Belphie closed the distance between you, springing forward to kiss your cheek. The sudden movement surprised you, but it wasn’t especially shocking; Belphegor had always been physically affectionate. He inched closer, causing his hot breath to ghost over your skin. His lips curved into a precious grin as he whispered in your ear: “Thank you for always spoiling me.”

The honey-sweet tone of Belphie’s voice was undercut by a sharp yell from the corner of the room. “I saw that.”

It was Solomon. He stopped shoving his books into his bag to glare at the back of Belphegor’s head. Unfortunately for Solomon, Belphie wasn’t bothered; he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Cool shit, bro.” Belphie replied in a condescending tone and lifted his arm up in the air to flip Solomon off. You watched Solomon’s jaw drop slightly as he physically recoiled. Sometimes Solomon forgot how rude Belphegor could be. It was hard not to laugh, but you really shouldn’t encourage his bad behavior by laughing. “Come on, MC. Let’s go.”

Belphie grabbed your arm and dragged you into the hall. He was attached, and he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. In fact, he planned to stay glued to your side until his desire for your attention was fully satisfied.

Solomon

The warmth of Solomon’s hands as he caressed your cheek was nothing compared to the warmth of his praise and your own pride swelling in your chest. Solomon hummed, “You did such a good job.”

You had successfully used a heating spell on the first try, evidenced by the warmth in Solomon’s previously cold hands. It had been a while since you got a spell that Solomon taught you perfect right away – let alone one that required you to manipulate another person’s body (and you could worry about the ethical dilemma involved with that later). Neither of you had expected you to raise his body temperature at such an ideal rate and stop at the perfect temperature. Of course, Solomon trusted you not to hurt him, but he was impressed by your control. He wanted to test you further.

“Excellent. Let’s try something similar.” Solomon began to search his shelves for the right ingredients. He continued to talk as he scanned, “I want to see if you can cool down an external object with the same level of control. If you can do it, I’ll reward you.”

“Bring it on,” you accepted. Solomon offered you plenty of praise when you did well, but he so rarely gave you an actual reward for your work. It was exciting to imagine what you could earn. Maybe he would teach you a cool, secret spell or give you a magical item. But more motivating than a reward was the idea of making Solomon proud.

“That’s my apprentice – so eager,” he mused, grabbing a bottle of glowing red liquid.

“Oh, but no home cooking as a reward,” you added, sparing your future self from potential suffering.

Solomon whipped his head around with a pout before returning to his search. He found a beaker and brought everything to his desk. By then, the pout had reshaped itself into a smirk. “I didn’t have cooking in mind when I offered you a reward, so it looks like we have a deal.”

Solomon poured plain water and the glowing red liquid into the beaker. They failed to mix. You asked, “What do I have to do?”

It was simple – or at least that was what Solomon said. All you had to do was cool the contents of the container between 32 to 36 degrees below the freezing point of water. If the red substance dipped under 36 degrees below the freezing point of water, it would become unstable. If you failed, the ice and glass would break open. Solomon didn’t tell you anything about the red substance or what “unstable” meant for it. All you knew was that you had a four-degree margin of error.

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t put my favorite apprentice in danger for a game, would I?”

With that reassurance, you focused your magic into the beaker. As the water slowly solidified, the red liquid became concentrated at the center until it was encased in ice. You just had to keep lowering it until something felt right. You stopped and nodded. Solomon inspected the beaker.

“A beautiful job,” Solomon praised you.

“Really? What did I do though?”

“I’ll tell you once the ice melts,” Solomon waved off your curiosity. “For now, it’s time for your reward. Close your eyes.”

You did as he instructed and listened to him moving about the room. His presence got closer until you could feel his warmth. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, causing your eyes to shoot open and your face to burn. Solomon chuckled at your response.

“I could feel your cheeks getting warm. Did I embarrass you?”

“No. I was just surprised.”

“Really?” Solomon leaned in and kissed your cheek again. “I don’t know. Your face burns under my lips.”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” you retorted. That wasn’t what you were expecting, of course he flustered you.

“Oh? That can’t possibly be true. My adorable apprentice seems to be doing quite well,” Solomon laughed, all too pleased with his successful attempt to tease you. “You learn so quickly. Should we try something even harder? Think you can handle it?”

There was a seductive tint to his words, and you narrowed your eyes at Solomon. “Same shady reward system? Pass.”

“Nope,” Solomon leaned close, trying to entice you. How were you just now noticing how sweet he smelled? Was he wearing perfume or cologne today? You didn’t have time to linger on the thought. Solomon dropped his voice, and through a wicked smirk, he added, “even shadier. If you succeed, I’ll do whatever you ask for a full day.”

“And if I fail?” you asked cautiously.

“I get to punish you.”

(gift version - Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles)

A/N: These ones got really flirty. . . oh well. Uhm, leave me nice comments or something. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting to say something. . .

#requests #gn!mc #mammon #satan #asmodeus #belphegor #solomon #obey me short fic #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #oh and enjoy a new OC. . .don't let me bring him back unless y'all have a teacher kink or something...

402 notes · View notes

star-suh · 5 months

Text

The Jock and The Horny.

Choi Jongho x Male Reader.

cw: college au, top jongho, katoptronophilia, size kink, uniform kink, sweat kink, blowjob, cum eating, facial, hickeys, shower sex, exhibitionism, cruising(?), established relationship, pwp, reader is a bit taller than jongho.

—

jongho is one of the top football players of the university and his boyfriend y/n was always supporting him, screaming when he scores a goal. the thing is that everytime y/n sees jongho in his uniform the little pervert gets aroused, he loves how his boyfriend's bulge swings as if he was freeballing.

the football game had already ended and all the players were in the locker room changing and bathing, the smell of sweat and musk filling the place.

“hey jongho? you are not going to shower, you stinky ass?” one of the players mocked, drawing some laughs from the rest of the players. “of course i'm gonna shower but after everyone else is gone, i don't want to make you all feel bad when you see me naked” he blurted out. the whole room was busy laughing at the joke that no one noticed a figure entering the room and hiding itself.

“ok see you in the next game mr. big dick” they all waved goodbye while jongho was sitting half naked, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“you can come out now. everyone's gone” he spoke. “fuck you smell so good” was the only thing y/n said before jumping on his boyfriend and eating his mouth with a desperate kiss.

y/n's hands were exploring every part of jongho's body feeling all the sweat of his body “you looked so fucking hot while you were playing” said the horny guy while jongho's mouth was leaving dark spots on his neck.

a big tent can be seen under the towel covering jongho's bottom half “someone's eager” he whispered, sending shivers down y/n's neck.

the shower was on, the water falling and splashing everywhere when it falls on the bodies of the pair of lovers. jongho is slamming himself inside y/n's tight hole while he is standing, hands against the walls. “you fuck me so good jongho” blurted out the bottom. “and you take me so well too” complimented the top.

y/n was getting railed dumb by jongho, the tip of his cock reaching that sensitive spot every time it enters. “so deep~” slurred y/n, his insides squeezing jongho's cock. “i like how you choke my dick” the smaller grabbed the taller's chin, turning his head so they could make out. a mix of water and saliva dripping down their intertwined tongues.

later y/n knelt down and started sucking jongho's cock, moving his tongue up and down, licking every vein and then his balls, putting each one of them in his mouth. all that while jongho was moaning and saying things like how good of a cocksucker y/n is.

“that's right my boy leave it nice and wet” spoke jongho while slapping gently y/n's cheek and then making him suck his thumb. jongho turned off the shower, then he made y/n stand up and open his ass, letting jongho see his delicious hole "i can't believe that all this is mine. just for me" and with two strong spanks, jongho put all his cock in at once, getting a big moan from the bottom.

jongho lifted y/n with his strong arms folding him in a cannonball position and railed him like there was no tomorrow. “fucking shit jongho.. i.. i think you might break me if you keep fucking me like this” he pleaded.

“perfect” it's the only thing coming out of the top's mouth accelerating his pace. jongho walked while still fucking the taller until reaching where there was a mirror, grabbing y/n by his chin and forcing him to look into the mirror.

his cheeks, ears and the back of his neck were tinted pink, it was embarrassing for him to see how that thick piece of his boyfriend entered and left his greedy hole.

jongho pulls out and went to bring a bench, positioning it in front of the mirror and commanded his boyfriend to ride him, all while jongho looked at the mirror. the mere idea of looking at his boyfriend taking him makes him so horny.

“it feels bigger” moaned y/n feeling the cock throbbing inside him. “it's because you're so hot” murmured his boyfriend.

after some spankings and the constant riding y/n was getting ready to cum “i'm gonna cum” he blurted out. “try to shoot it directly in my mouth. come on score a goal” he teases rubbing y/n's balls with one hand while playing with his right nipple with the other. “fuck” cried the bottom trying to aim straight at his boyfriend's open mouth to fill it with his thick warm semen.

after riding his high y/n stared at jongho while he licked clean the rest of the semen that landed on his chest and chin “yummy” he said smacking his lips and licking them.

y/n knelt down again while his lover was stroking his cock very hard and fast “get ready to receive my seed on your pretty face”, moan after moan jongho finally came painting the face behind him in white, the gooey cum covering y/n's lashes and dripping down his cheeks “a masterpiece” laughed the top rubbing the tip of his cock on y/n's lips as a sign for him to open up and lick him clean.

“now let's shower for real” y/n grabbed jongho and went straight to the showers again, both started kissing again not realizing that all this time there was someone hiding in the showers with a rock hard thing between his legs.

#choi jongho x male reader #jongho x male reader #jongho smut #choi jongho x male reader smut #ateez x male reader #ateez x male reader smut #ateez smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

448 notes · View notes

myseungsunglove · 6 months

Text

All you had to do was ask | Lmh

Pairing: Lee know x Reader

Warnings: Smut, you won’t find any plot here

Word Count: 2.6k

𖠫Summary: Some days you just can’t stop staring at Lee Know. Something about the way he moves draws you in and makes you ache in ways that should be embarrassing. Today, in one of the practice rooms of all places, you’re just bold enough to finally do something about it.

✎A/N✎: I don’t know where this came from. It just popped into my head and begged to be written. Here you are. Hope you enjoy my totally and completely pure thoughts.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© November 3, 2023 by mysweethannie」

Smut warnings: piv sex, unprotected sex (maybe don’t do this one, folks), semi-public sex

“You know, if you would actually fuck me instead of with your eyes, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to stare so much,” Lee Know snarks, jolting you out of one of your shameless staring sessions.

You couldn’t help yourself sometimes. During dance practice, Lee Know was often dripping with sweat and you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering. When he rudely interrupted your train of thought, you were contemplating what the sweat running down his thick neck would taste like and what those thick thighs would feel like between your legs, bringing you to the sweetest release.

“Or maybe,” you deadpan, looking him in the eyes. “I’d stare more because then I’d know what it’s like to have your dick inside me.”

If the other guys had been around, you would have held your tongue, but they’d all left an hour ago and Lee Know had stayed behind to help perfect your dance.

You hold his gaze, not daring to look away and you notice the barely imperceptible jaw clench from Lee Know before his eyes rake over you, as he processes what you said. You can see him considering your words, his tongue poking out of his mouth to run over his bottom lip and immediately pulling it in between his teeth, subconsciously biting it in contemplation.

“Do you want me inside you?” he asks, slowly walking towards where you’re seated on the cushioned bench of the practice room.

Your cheeks heat up, the warmth spreading down your neck all the way down your body. The moment Lee Know sits down beside you, his thick thighs pressing against yours, your brain short circuits but thankfully your legs spring into action. You stand and move away to give yourself some separation before your body has an opportunity to betray you.

He doesn’t let you get far, grabbing your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He guides you to stand between his legs, boxing you in with his thighs.

“Don’t get shy now, jagiya,” he teases, a smirk appearing on his stupid handsome face.

He grabs one of your legs, running his hand along your thigh and brings your knee to settle on the outside of his leg. You don’t resist the contact but instead, follow his lead and place the other knee on the other side of him, effectively straddling him. It’s not exactly the daydream he rudely interrupted, but it’s close enough to make you want to internally combust.

He guides you to settle on his lap, and immediately your aching core is met with his hard bulge. And from the feel of it, he is big.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your hands linking together behind his neck as you try not to grind against him. His hands are hot on the skin of your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“We could, you know,” he says, looking into your eyes. His eyes are piercing and serious. He pokes his tongue between his teeth and you can’t help but want to suck it between your soft pink lips, absolutely devouring him and pulling a sweet moan from his throat.

Your brows knit together in confusion at his words, not following his insinuation.

“We could fuck,” he supplies frankly when he realizes you don’t understand. “Maybe you aren’t the only one with a staring problem. I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about fucking you senseless right here in this room,” he admits. “The idea that I could be the sole reason you're dripping with sweat and panting… hmmmm,” he swallows thickly before he continues. “Though I do wonder if you could take me. It’d be a tight fit if that pussy is as tight and warm as I’ve imagined.”

You can’t believe his audacity, but his words spur on your movements, your hips moving against him. Lee Know’s hands slip under your shirt to your bare back, guiding the movement of your hips against his. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, the pads of his fingers dancing along your now overly heated skin.

You run your hands along his firm chest and down his bicep, grabbing him by the wrist and bringing it in front of you. You hold his hand momentarily as you admire the veins that run along his arm and hand, your hips still mindlessly rutting against him. You momentarily think about sucking his fingers into your mouth, but your aching cunt has different ideas. You clench around nothing just thinking about him being inside of you.

Lee Know watches you closely as you place his hand on your stomach underneath your shirt, and inch his fingers just into the waistband of your shorts. From there, the next move will be his to take.

Leaning forward, you whisper into his ear. “How about you make sure I can take you then,” you challenge, nipping at him slightly before soothing the bite with your tongue.

He moans obscenely, deep and guttural, and his hand pushes into your shorts. His fingers cup your heat as his palm presses firmly against your clit. You're already wet when he runs his fingers along the hem of your underwear and pulls them to the side, his thick fingers immediately coming in contact with your wet folds, swiping between them greedily and circling your opening.

“I knew you had a slutty side,” he growls, as he slips his middle finger inside you while simultaneously crashing his lips against yours in a messy and tongue tangling kiss. His tongue prods at yours in the same way his thick digit explores your cunt, his ring finger sliding in beside the first and scissoring you open, causing you to moan into his mouth.

As if trying to prove him right, you grind your hips against his hand desperately, the heel pressing deliciously against your clit with each tiny movement, allowing a jolt of pleasure to course through you.

“More,” you pant, your fingers digging into his shoulders, “Please,” you beg between heavy breaths.

He tilts his head curiously, smirking at you.

“Kitten sure is needy isn’t she?” he teases, but obliges your request, slipping a third finger into you, pulling a sinful sound from your lips. One you didn’t even know you were capable of uttering.

His plump lips find your pulse point and he plants an open mouth kiss there, happy to leave a trail of wet kisses along your neck and jawline. Each time your hips undulate against him, you're reminded of the sizable cock that is hiding in his sweats. Without giving yourself a minute to second guess it, you slip your hand into his gray sweatpants finding that he is wearing no underwear at all.

“Who’s the slut now?” you smirk at him as your dainty hand wraps around his cock.

You were right, big doesn’t even begin to describe Lee Know’s dick. He feels hot and heavy in your hand as you squeeze him, running your hand up and down his shaft languidly so that you feel every ridge and vein. His head falls back against the wall at your ministrations and it’s your turn to kiss along his neck, moving up behind his ear and sucking a small mark there.

“Mine,” you groan in his ear, squeezing his cock with a slow stroke, running your thumb over his warm tip, precum already seeping from him.

You stroke him again, causing his breath to hitch in his throat momentarily. “Take your pants… “Fuck. Off. Take em off, now,” he tries to demand but it comes out sounding more like begging. His fingers slip out of you and he pushes you away a little.

You take the hint, release his cock, and stand, quickly shedding your shorts and underwear. He lifts his hips and you yank his sweats down past his knees. He kicks them off in a rush as you lay eyes on his cock for the first time and man is it pretty, standing tall and proud, the tip an angry red and leaking steadily. The red reminds you of the shade his ears turn when he gets particularly embarrassed in front of the members. He pulls his legs up onto the bench, leaning back on his hands and holds your gaze without hesitation.

“Fuck,” you moan, sounding absolutely fucked out and he hasn’t even gotten inside you yet. “I’m gonna suck that pretty thing dry next time, but right now,” you say, moving to straddle him, “I need it filling me up,” you moan, aligning the tip with your entrance and sliding down on him slowly, not giving him the opportunity to argue one way or the other.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut, as you inch down onto him. It’s slow moving at first as you take slow, deep breaths, allowing your walls to clench and unclench, letting him in bit by bit until you realize you're pressed against his balls, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” he speaks for the first time in a minute.

You open your eyes to see a shit eating grin on his face. “Take it for a ride,” he teases, moving his hips up into you, the tip of his cock pressing that soft spot inside you, causing your legs to quiver slightly. “And next time, if you’re sucking me, I’m definitely getting a taste of this pretty pussy,” he says, looking down between you where your bodies connect.

You can’t help but look down too, a small gasp slipping between your lips as your eyes land on the place where you are now intimately connected with Lee Know.

You lift yourself up slowly, his cock slick with your arousal as it reveals itself, only to lower yourself down quickly, punching the breath out of you both as you grind against him, your hands gripping his shoulders fiercely as you ride him just like he suggested.

He wraps his arms around your waist and up your back, pressing your bodies close together as your movements quicken. Your clit meets his pelvic bone with each thrust forward, and you can feel Lee Know’s hot breath against your neck, your name falling from his lips like a desperate prayer as you fuck yourself on him.

In a completely brainless moment, he reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt over his shoulders, tossing it to the side. Desperate to have him pressed against you in earnest, you do the same, your need to feel close to him dominating any rational thought in your brain and forgetting that you are in a very public place where you could be discovered at any time.

“You’re definitely more than a slut,” he utters the minute he sees you bare before him. There is a hint of teasing in his voice before he continues. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he moans, his lips kissing along your clavical and down between the valley of your breast.

You lean back to allow him better access to you, your hands landing on the bench behind you as you continue to ride him relentlessly, that knot in you tightening quicker with each erratic movement. His arms are wrapped around your waist as he helps support you, his lips latching onto one of your nipples and biting down gently before sucking the nub between his plush lips.

“Lee Know,” you breathe, your chest heaving as your hips start to slow, completely overwhelmed with pleasure.

He pushes you back onto the cushioned bench, slipping out of you momentarily, causing your head to spin. Quickly, he is hovering over your body, his hand wrapped around his cock as he guides it back into you. Your body arches against him, and he presses your bodies together, his lips finding yours in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue moves slowly against yours, in much the same way that his hips move into you.

Each time he bottoms out, he presses himself against you, creating a delicious friction on your clit that leaves you chasing after that electric feeling that it creates.

The knot that had been building before, quickly returns, your legs closing in around Lee Know’s hips in an effort to keep him as close and as deep as possible. Your hands are wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as his movements begin to get sloppy and more erratic.

“Make me cum,” you moan. Beg. “Fuck, Please!” you cry with one particularly sharp thrust.

He renews his efforts with your begging.

“All you had to do was ask, jagiya,” he smirks down at you, leaning back and grabbing your hips, crashing them together once maybe twice before his fingers reach between you and press hard against your clit, rubbing circles around it.

That’s all it takes for your walls to descend upon him, fluttering wildly against his hard length, a burst of white pleasure lighting up behind your eyes. Your body quivers as you border on overstimulation from the pleasure. Just as your release ebbs, Lee Know presses himself firmly against you with one heavy thrust, and releases into you, pulling a cry from your lips as your orgasm renews and your legs shake wildly. A weak laugh falls from you as you try to escape the overwhelming pleasure, pushing against Lee Knows chest, but he keeps you pinned beneath him as he empties into you. You find your gravity in each other, your lips meeting once more.

“Fuck,” you say, exhausted as your arms fall on the bench above your head, your chest heaving dramatically with each breath.

“Yes,” Lee Know smirks down at you. “Yes we did.”

You shake your head at him and slap his chest playfully, and he catches your wrist in his hand pulling you close to him for a searing kiss.

“Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve got a lot more I’d like to do to you if you’re willing,” he offers, standing and bending over to grab his sweats from where they had been shucked and forgotten earlier.

“Oh I’m willing,” you laugh as you sit up and grab for your discarded clothes, slipping everything back on. You’re hot and sticky, red and breathing heavy, but to an outsider that could all just be dance practice. “I’m definitely gonna want a shower,” you grimace as you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to stand.

He chuckles low as he side eyes you.

“I can help with that too,” he smiles teasingly at you.

You hold his gaze. “Maybe then you can show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

“Bet,” he agrees, seriously. “My mouth will be the only one you ever want again, jagiya,” he adds as you head for the door of the practice room.

You turn around and kiss him hard as his hands grab your hips and hold you close to him.

“Too late for that,” you smile against his lips. “These lips are mine and mine alone,” you growl possessively, and he reaches down and gives your ass a firm squeeze.

“All you had to do was ask, jagiya,” he smiles at you, slipping his hand into yours and pulling you out of the room, eager to get you home and have his way with you.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know x you #Lee know smut #lee know fanfiction

237 notes · View notes

somekindofpoet · 1 year

Note

Hear me out. I low key think that Vada would form a fear of thunderstorms after what happened at school. So when she goes to call R, who happens to be her crush, she hears knocking on her window. It’s R and they’re holding a bag of snacks and movies. They knew that Vada hated thunderstorms since the last time they talked.

Just overall fluff with lots of cuddles and corny flirting on both ends. Vada is smol and needs to be protected. Even if she will throw a Big Gulp at someone if she needs to 💀.

Since we’re on a Vada kick, have this adorable fluff.

The crashing of thunder rouses you from the short sleep you’d fallen into. You squint at your clock. It’s only 10, you’d been asleep for an hour.

A flash lights up the night sky, drawing your attention to your window. Bright fingers of electricity race across the black sky, and the rumbling that woke you follows it soon after. You admire it, blinking bleary eyes at the raging storm, appreciating the way the rain falls in fat droplets against your window.

Another clap of thunder brings your mind to Vada. She would be terrified right now, you think, remembering how she blushed when she told you she was afraid of lightning. It makes your heart clench, to think of her alone, hiding under her blankets, shaking.

You can’t bear the thought of it.

You roll out of bed and tiptoe down to your kitchen, careful not to wake your sleeping family. You gather the essentials; a bag of smart food cheddar popcorn, a bag of reeces pieces (your favorite) and a bag of sour patch kids (Vadas favorite), leftover from your last movie night. You snag two cans of root beer, throw your loot in a backpack, and sneak out the back door.

Luckily, Vada only lives a block away, so you’re only half drenched, instead of soaked through like a wet dog when you throw your bike down in her driveway.

Another crackle of lightning pierces the sky, so you hustle to Vada’s window and knock softly. You hear a yelp from inside and a thump. She probably fell off her bed, ever the graceful one, Vada was. You can see her figure creep into view, the moonlight hitting her hair and cheeks as she nears the window. With an awkward smile, you wave at her, pointing to her window lock. she squints, trying to see you more clearly.

You probably look something close to a horror movie murderer, standing in the rain with your hood pulled over your head at her window, but she smiles when she recognizes you. It sends a battalion of butterflies charging through your stomach.

She slides her window open and you hand her your bag before hauling yourself over the threshold and flopping inside. You stand, comically dusting your soaked arms off before grinning at her. She laughs through her nose, shaking her head at you.

“What’re you doing here?” She asks, her voice just above a whisper.

You shut the window, saving her bench from the torrent of rain outside.

“I came to watch movies with you,” you gesture to your backpack, “laptop and snacks are in there.”

She looks confused, her brows furrowed. Thunder cracks outside and she flinches, closing her eyes and sucking in air between her teeth.

You take the bag from her and walk it to her bed, unzipping it and turning back to her, “I know you hate thunderstorms, so I thought I’d keep you company until it passes.”

She blinks at you, her expression softening as she understands. You catch the little smile that pulls at the corner of her mouth, and the butterflies conduct all out warfare inside of you.

Your eyes follow her as she goes into her closet, and comes back out, throwing a pair of sweats and a tshirt at you.

“Put these on. You didn’t have like a rainproof jacket or something?”

You shrug, “I was kind of in a hurry.”

She jumps on the bed and takes your laptop, opening it to Netflix and choosing a movie while you change. You toss your clothes into a sopping pile under the window and crawl into bed with her, your shoulders brushing. She leans into you, just slightly, but enough for you to notice.

Butterflies, sound the cavalry charge!

She picks a comedy. It’s stupid, but you enjoy it because it makes her laugh. Halfway through the movie, the storm outside worsens, lightning striking every few minutes and wind screaming outside the window. Vada jumps and inches closer to you every time the skies crack open.

Eventually you stop pretending to not notice and open your arm to her, offering her a closer spot to your chest. She smiles as takes it without hesitating, tucking herself under your arm and into your side. After a short time, her head droops onto your chest, her breathing evening out. The storm keeps clashing outside, but she stops flinching at every strike.

She mumbles in her sleep, her fingers twitching over your shirt. You close the laptop when the movie ends and slide down the bed, letting her stay cuddled into you. You close your eyes, deciding you’ll get up when it stops raining and bike home. For now, you figure it’s the chivalrous thing to do to let her sleep.

The butterflies are victorious another day.

#vada x reader #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #drabble #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader

562 notes · View notes

zmediaoutlet · 13 days

Text

"So how was it?" Dean says.

Sam squints at him. Crazy-bright day, light reflecting off every car, bouncing back from the license plate frame on the Buick in front of them. "How was what?"

He gets a significant look but then there's a honk and Dean waves irritably at the guy behind them, moves forward a half car-length like that means something. Sam said they should've just taken 87 instead of the state highway, but apparently that wouldn't have been as good a drive, so here they are, bumper to bumper. Some accident they can't see up ahead.

"Dean," Sam says, when they're essentially parked again. "How was what?"

Dean stretches back, knees spread wide around the steering wheel. "Uh, let's see," he says, and sucks his lower lip like he's really thinking. "The tonsil hockey? The tongue tango? The vertical v-grab—"

"You're the worst," Sam says, loudly, and Dean grins whitely out at the traffic. Relaxed. Probably more relaxed now that Sam feels blood rising in his cheeks, like he really did something. The dick. They roll forward another few feet and Sam braces his elbow on the open window, looking out at the growing green, the budding trees. Springtime in upstate New York, not the worst it could be.

"Sarah seemed like she'd be good at it," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, smacks vaguely to his left, catches leather jacket. Dean swats his hand away. "Hey, that ain't a dig. I admire a chick who'll really go for it. And, buddy, the way she was looking at you."

Sometimes it's like he thinks Sam's blind. Like, the only reason is that he doesn't notice. He sucks the inside of his cheek, squints out at the random field out past the highway. Cows, in the distance. "She was good at it," he says, finally. Soft where it counted, confident in the way that a lot of gorgeous girls are. Curving into his body but not limp or just opening her mouth for it and waiting for him to be done. Her tongue tasted like earl grey tea. He can taste it now, and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

Dean's been quiet, letting off the brake and rolling forward a carlength at a time. "You want to…" he starts, but what goes there? They weren't going to stay. They never were. Even an extra day didn't make sense, because what was going to happen—Sam taking the open invite, letting himself try, knowing that in the motel across town Dean was cooling his heels with motel porn and a takeout pizza, waiting for Sam to shoot his load so they'd be ready to pack up and leave the state? No, that wasn't going to happen. Not fair to Sarah, no matter if Sam explained the score, and it wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair, either, to…

More honking, somewhere behind them. They check the rearview at the same time, annoyed, and Dean mutters, "Like that helps?"

Sam turns on his side of the bench, putting his back to the window. Dean glances at him and then looks back out at the cars, frowning. "What do you think I'm missing?" Sam says. "With this stuff. Perfume? Long hair?"

"Perfume I can do, but I draw the line at wearing a wig for you," Dean says. Sam huffs and Dean glances over at him again, smiling. Kind of smiling anyway. "Not trying to—to be weird about it, or pick a fight or anything, Sammy. I just know you wanted…" He shakes his head, slouches back on the bench with two fingers hooked low on the steering wheel. "I don't want you to be—missing anything. I know, we got a job, and it's important. I'm not, like, trying to get you to move into a two-bedroom in New Paltz. I just don't want you to hate this any more than you do already."

Traffic judders to a halt again. Sam nods, looks out at the blinding chrome. His eyes smart. He sniffs, and drags his hand over his face, and then leans over the bench seat and gets his hand on Dean's jaw and turns his face and kisses him. Dean's lips startle open and Sam closes his eyes and licks in, pressing deep, Dean's hand gripping his jacket and Dean's breath filling his mouth. Coffee, salt. Sam tips so his forehead's against Dean's, their noses brushing. "Don't worry about what I'm missing," Sam says.

Dean's knuckles against his chest. He breathes in, shaky.

Honking. Dean takes a quick deep breath and pulls back, doesn't look at Sam. Traffic opening maybe, a little, ahead. They slide forward a car-length and then another. "Might make it to Allentown before dark after all," he says. His ear's pink. Sam sits back into the corner of the bench and smiles at the side of his head. "Shut up," Dean says, and Sam smiles out the window instead, the grown-grass verge starting to blur as they pick up speed. He wasn't going to say a thing.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 19 #fun fact: I Hate Sarah So Much #but in an established wincest context she's at least interesting

76 notes · View notes

hydrngea · 1 year

Text

before the party

request : omg I was looking through your blog and I saw you listen to Rauw Alejandro, who is one of my current obsessions! Can I request an imagine with Rafe where the reader is listening to Rauw while getting ready for a party and he just loves watching her sing along and dance to the songs without having any idea what they mean?

a/n : i’m so glad i got this request bc i’ve been so into rauw lately!!! hope you guys enjoy this kinda smutty fic 🫣 this is a repost bc for tumblr was being annoying w it!

notes / summary : rafe didn’t realize your spanish playlist had such horny lyrics. reader is spanish speaking, but i left race/ethnicity to interpretation! pls be 18+ when reading!!

——-

rafe remembers absolutely nothing from high school spanish.

well, with seniora baldwin as a teacher for four years in a row, there’s no way he remember more than two percent of what he learned.

kinda ironic that his girlfriend is fluent in the language.

there’s no reason for him to be annoyed that you speak spanish. your knowledge comes with a bunch of perks.- acting as a free translator during deals down in florida and mexico. makes navigating vacations much easier too.

there’s one thing though; he can’t understand for the life of him what you’re saying when you start speaking it. or in this case, when you’re singing it.

your voice echos from the bathroom into your shared bedroom while you sing along to your playlist which is mostly consisted of some latin party music. b

rafe walks into the restroom to grab some hair gel when he finds shaking your hips and dancing along as you draw on your eyeliner in the mirror.

he lets out a chuckle, panning his eyes over your figure. “what’s he saying about the party?”

your reflection tenses at his question, and a flush begins to pool over the face of your skin.

“he’s saying…things.” you drag your response while you clean up your eyeliner.

“sure.” rafe rolls his eyes before exiting into the bedroom, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

he sits down onto the bench in front of your bed and searches up “party” by rauw translation. he clicks the first link and starts reading the translated lyrics line by line.

he has to hold in the laugh that grows in his throat while he takes in the absolutely vile lyrics.

“i’ll smack that ass” he repeats outloud, and the music from the speaker immediately pauses as you push your head out the doorway with a confused look on you face.

“what?”

rafe almsot chokes at the next lyric, eye widening and brows lifting. he gets up and walks towards you while reading it out, “that booty is for me to use.”

you relax once it clicks in your mind that he’s reading off something, letting out an annoyed sigh before stepping back in front of the mirror.

you notice rafes hand approaching the backside of your skirt from the reflection of the mirror and you swat at it before he can touch it.

“uh uh! vamos a llegar tarde a la fiesta por tu culpa!”

rafe blinks at you in confusion. you turn around, facing him “it’s your fault we’ll be late to the party.” you reiterate so he can understand.

“i didn’t realize this rauw guy sung such horny songs, baby.”

you roll your eyes, unpausing the music on your phone and resuming with patting on your blush. “well, if you’d learned spanish by now you would’ve known.”

rafe gets closer behind you, putting a hand on your hip and forcing you to turn around and face face him. your back leans against the edge of the vanity and you set down your compact onto the counter.

“you’re going to ruin my clothes!” you squirm as his hands begin to run over your bare thighs, trailing up under your skirt.

he leans forward to bring his lips to your neck, pressing kisses down to your collarbone “i don’t care.”

“rafe,” you shudder when his lips reach the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

he shushes you, his breath grazing over your skin while he starts pulling down your bottoms.

you lean your head back which allows him greater exposure to your skin, giving into his actions.

“we need to make this-“ a gasp cuts off your words, two fingers slipping up your entrance and hitting deep against your walls. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and use them to keep you steady while he plunges them in and out and a deteriorating pattern, slowly cracking down on the tension in your body.

“you like that, y/n/n?” he questions as he quickens his pace, thumb grazing over your nub. rafe’s lips catch yours in a hard embrace, and he swallows the moan that falls from your throat. you tighten your grip on his biceps and arch against his fingers, enjoying the sensation of his slender digits pumping into your core.

a familiar burning feeling forms in your abdomen, and your begin to writhe on-top of the counter, bucking your hips up to meet the him as he curls his fingers inside you.

you let out another moan into his collarbone and he smirks, pulling his fingers out right before you cross the edge. “baby, please-“ you cry but he retreats from you, walking away while lapping at the wetness left on his fingers with concerning nonchalance.

rafe shrugs, walking out of the bathroom into where he came from. “we’re gonna be late to the party,”

he abandons you on the vanity with your skirt pooled on the tile floor, your chest heaving and wetness dripping down you leg into your calves.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

of course rafe would do this—he loves teasing and making sure that you know who you belong to, even though he knows he has no competition.

——-

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!) : @maybankslover @mrsstarkey1 @a-aexotic @penny4yourthoughts @poguesworld @tee-swizzle @sangytv

masterlist / recent fic

473 notes · View notes

bbobpul · 10 months

Text

being with you doesn't feel like drowning — lmk

PAIRING. bff!mark lee x bff!reader SUMMARY. reader tries to confess to mark in hopes that their feeling will disappear once they let it out of their chest. GENRE. angst, unrequited love, best friends to strangers, reunion W/C. 3.4k NOTE. i love boygenius so it's mandatory to listen to cool about it while reading FOR THE FEELS (0.0)!→ my other works

certain people from our youth leave an indelible mark on us, whether they are senior role models, acquaintances who brighten our days, or individuals who meant so much but eventually drifted apart. their presence, guidance, and impact shape our experiences and stay with us long after we part ways, reminding us of the significance of human connections and the lasting effects they have on our lives.

surely one of the saddest experiences but the best stories to tell.

mark lee is undoubtedly an incredibly lovable person. many people who know him would agree wholeheartedly. he embodies kindness and provides a comforting presence that draws people towards him. mark is like a ray of sunshine, approachable and warm.

in my personal experience, he has been a significant source of support during my college journey. his friendly demeanor attracts people, and many individuals wish to befriend him. some are too shy to approach him directly, so they often approach me as a way to connect with him, like a bridge to his vibrant social circle.

when i first entered high school, i had certain expectations of what mark lee might be like based on stereotypical characters from tv shows—cocky and popular. however, i quickly discovered that mark was different. despite any changes that high school brought, he remained the same kid i had grown up with.

i vividly remember the times when he would run to me for support when kids from our neighborhood were being mean to him. he trusted me enough to confide in me when his first crush rejected him, not knowing that i was also on the verge of tears myself. mark lee is someone who is so easy to love, and that's what makes him incredibly difficult to forget.

his genuine and vulnerable nature, his loyalty and trust in our friendship, have left a lasting impression on me. mark's authenticity and ability to connect on a deeper level are what set him apart. despite the ups and downs, he remains a constant presence in my life, a person i hold dear in my heart.

i consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been noticed by mark in a way that felt truly special, surpassing the attention he gave to others he met during high school. it was a privilege that should have brought me immense gratitude, yet i couldn't help but harbor a conflicting desire for something more. in my heart, i battled with feelings of self-doubt and yearning, torn between appreciating the unique connection we shared and longing for a deeper bond that seemed just out of reach.

sitting on the benches near the school gates with my friend donghyuck, i couldn't contain the overwhelming emotions within me any longer. "i really love him, hyuck. so much," i confessed, my voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and excitement. it was a quiet moment between the two of us, as we had been dismissed early from school due to our lazy professor. as we waited for mark, who had some errands to run, i seized the opportunity to confide in donghyuck, trusting him with my deepest feelings and hoping for some guidance or understanding in return.

his response took me aback. "that sucks, man," he said, his words carrying a sense of sympathy. i stared at him in disbelief, hoping for some encouragement or guidance, but his straightforward suggestion caught me off guard. "just tell him," he continued, his voice laced with conviction. "it probably will disappear once you get your feelings off your chest."

"it won't. i know it won't work," i replied, my voice tinged with a sense of resignation. i recalled my previous attempts to convey my feelings to mark, even if it was in a lighthearted manner, and the lingering affection that persisted throughout the years. graduation was approaching, yet this feeling had taken root long before i even set foot in the halls of our school.

as the weight of my unrequited feelings continued to burden me, i added another layer of complexity to the situation. "i also can't tell him right now," i confessed, a hint of frustration evident in my voice. "he's apparently involved with this girl from stem."

"did he tell you that?" he asked, his voice filled with skepticism.

"no," i replied, realizing that i had simply heard it through the grapevine without any confirmation from mark himself.

"then it's not true," hyuck asserted, his words resonating with a sense of certainty. i looked at him, a glimmer of hope flickering within me.

"you are his best friend, y/n," he continued, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "if he likes someone, you'll be the first one he'll talk to. sadly." his words struck a chord, emphasizing the closeness of my friendship with mark and the trust we shared.

hyuck's words resonated deeply within me, stirring a newfound determination. "try, y/n," he urged, his voice filled with encouragement.

and try, i would. i made up my mind to release the weight of my unspoken emotions, regardless of whether or not mark would reciprocate my feelings. it was no longer about seeking validation or hoping for a specific outcome. instead, it was about freeing myself from the burden of unexpressed affection, allowing my heart to find solace in the act of honesty. i realized that true liberation lay in the courage to let my emotions be known, even if it meant accepting the possibility of unrequited love.

as fate would have it, just as i resolved to confront my feelings and open myself up to vulnerability, the universe seemed to conspire in its own mischievous way. "y/n," a familiar voice called out, capturing my attention. there he was, mark lee, waving at me with an infectious smile adorning his face.

my heart skipped a beat as a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through me. it was as if the universe was testing my newfound resolve, presenting me with an opportunity to seize the moment. with a deep breath, i mustered the courage to meet his gaze, ready to embark on a journey that would reveal the truth of my emotions and pave the way for whatever lay ahead.

"hey, man," mark greeted donghyuck with a warm smile before his attention shifted towards me. his eyes locked with mine, and he uttered those words that sent a surge of anticipation through me, "let's go home?"

his invitation caught me off guard, my heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him. it's not like this is the first time we are walking home together. without hesitation, i nodded, my own smile mirroring his. "sure, let's go," i replied, unable to conceal the excitement bubbling within me.

as we bid farewell to donghyuck at the school gates, mark and i ventured further into the outside world. the sun gently kissed our faces as we strolled side by side, our footsteps creating a harmonious rhythm. in that moment, mark's words washed over me, his voice filled with a warmth and sincerity that melted my heart.

"let's just walk, hmm?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a hint of playfulness. "i didn't see you much today, so i want to spend more time with you." it was a simple request, but it held profound meaning for me. this was the side of mark that had always made me swoon—the one who sought my company, who cherished our moments together. the tenderness in his words enveloped me, igniting a sense of belonging and significance.

as we walked side by side, heading towards home, i couldn't help but wonder if this would be the moment to gather my courage and express what had been weighing on my heart. it was a chance to lay bare my feelings and discover where our paths might converge. with each step, the anticipation grew, filling the air with a mix of hope, apprehension, and the promise of a newfound chapter in our intertwined lives.

as if synchronized by an invisible thread connecting our hearts, the words escaped our lips simultaneously, "i want to tell you something." a moment of lighthearted surprise passed between us before a shared smile graced our faces.

with a gentle nod, i urged mark to speak first, my curiosity piqued and a warmth of anticipation spreading within me. i wanted to hear what he had to say, to immerse myself in his world of thoughts and emotions.

"hmm, i'm sure you already heard about the rumors," my heart sank as mark began to speak, his words hit me like a wave of disconnection, momentarily distancing us. despite my own hopes, i forced myself to listen, desperately clinging to the possibility that he would deny it.

"and before you scold me, i'm sorry, okay?" he interjected, a touch of remorse coloring his words. "i'm sorry for not telling you first. it's just that you've been so busy with your debate stuff. but yes, the rumors are true." his words were filled with a sense of happiness, but inside, i felt a pang of sadness. i wanted to push my own feelings aside, to let him speak and find solace in his words, even if it meant disregarding my own desires and wishes.

in the brief silence that followed mark's confession, my mind raced to process the reality of his words. one, two, three seconds passed as i grappled with a mix of emotions. however, before i could fully retreat into my thoughts, mark's voice broke through the haze, calling my name and snapping me back to reality.

"that's cool, mark," i managed to say, mustering a tone of enthusiasm, despite the conflicting emotions swirling within me. his smile widened, and for a fleeting moment, i allowed myself to believe that i had successfully masked my true feelings. in that instant, his happiness became my focus, setting aside my own desires to ensure his joy remained undisturbed.

"what was it that you wanted to say?" mark inquired, his curiosity urging me to share my thoughts.

"ah," i stammered, desperately searching for words to divert the conversation. "you know, i just wanted to mention that my debate commitments have been overwhelming lately, and i feel like i need some rest." i fabricated an explanation, my mind struggling to conjure up plausible details. but as the words left my lips, my thoughts turned into a blank canvas, drained of any creative energy. mark continued speaking, presumably attempting to uplift my spirits, but his words became distant and muffled as my focus waned.

lost in my own internal turmoil, i unknowingly made my way inside my house, the outside world fading into the background. the weight of my unspoken truth settled heavily upon my shoulders, leaving me to contemplate the consequences of my silence and the disconnection i felt in that moment.

the vibration of my phone jolted me back to reality. retrieving it from my pocket, i discovered a message from mark. the words on the screen were like a lifeline, a gentle reminder of his unwavering support.

from mark

you will do great, i just know. there's nothing you can't do, y/n.

lying on my bed, i attempted to convince myself that everything was okay, that i could handle this situation with composure. it was just a simple crush, i reassured myself, something that could be dismissed and forgotten. i resolved to force myself to let go, to erase the thoughts of him from my mind.

deep down, i yearned for him to kindly leave my thoughts, to release his hold on my heart. with these conflicting emotions swirling within me, i drifted off to sleep that night, whispering to myself that one day, perhaps, i would forget about it, though uncertain if that day would ever truly arrive.

as ten years elapsed, bringing us to the present, the time had come for our high school reunion, an event i had initially considered skipping. donghyuck, however, was relentless in his insistence that i attend. inwardly, i grappled with my own reservations, questioning the root of my hesitation. after all, they were just old friends, right? well, except for mark. but it had been a decade since we last saw each other, and i reminded myself that everything had changed. including my feelings.

with a deep breath, i resolved to face the reunion head-on. it was an opportunity to reconnect with familiar faces and witness the transformations that time had wrought upon us all. i steeled myself, ready to navigate the evening with a newfound sense of confidence, curious to see how the passage of years had molded us into the individuals we had become. and in the back of my mind, a flicker of anticipation remained, wondering what the encounter with mark, the person who once held my heart, would bring.

as i arrived at the reunion, i was greeted by the familiar voice of donghyuck. a smile crossed my lips as i took in his playful remark. "y/n!" he exclaimed, his playful tone resonating in the air. "wow, you smell successful." it was a lighthearted comment, one that instantly brought back a flood of memories and reminded me of the bond we shared. i couldn't deny that i missed him, our friendship, and the easy banter we once had.

donghyuck then reminded me of the gathering, informing me that everyone was already seated and eagerly awaiting our arrival. it was a gentle nudge to set aside any remaining hesitations and fully embrace the moment. with a renewed sense of excitement, i followed donghyuck, ready to reunite with old friends and embark on a journey of reminiscence and rediscovery.

amidst the flurry of greetings from both familiar and unfamiliar faces, a part of me remained focused on one person. as i exchanged pleasantries and engaged in small talk, my heart quietly longed for the presence of that one individual. amongst the laughter and conversations that filled the room, i found myself eagerly awaiting the moment when our paths would cross once again.

time seemed to stretch as i scanned the room, searching for that familiar face that held so much significance in my life. each passing moment heightened the anticipation, the longing growing stronger with every passing second. it was as if the reunion revolved around the hope of reconnecting with this particular person, and i couldn't deny the depth of emotion that coursed through me.

in the midst of the gathering, surrounded by old memories and new conversations, i patiently held onto the belief that this encounter held the potential to reignite a flame that had flickered in my heart for years.

"hey, y/n." the sound of my name, uttered in a familiar voice, sent a shiver down my spine. i turned around, my heart racing, and there he was—the man i had loved for years and spent a decade trying to forget. as my gaze met his, i couldn't help but notice the changes that time had wrought upon him. he exuded a sense of maturity, yet his smile remained as captivating as ever, instantly evoking memories of our shared youth.

in that moment, a flood of emotions washed over me, overwhelming yet undeniably familiar. it was as if time stood still, and the weight of our past connection resurfaced with an undeniable intensity. the years apart seemed to fade away as we stood face to face, and i found myself drawn back to a time when his presence had filled my world with warmth and excitement.

as we locked eyes, an unspoken language passed between us, encapsulating a history of shared experiences and unspoken feelings. the passage of time had only deepened the significance of our connection, and in that instant, i couldn't help but wonder if the lingering embers of our past love had the potential to reignite into something more.

"it's nice to see you again," he said, his words carrying a hint of longing, as if he had missed me deeply. the sincerity in his voice echoed through my being, reigniting the familiarity of our connection.

"wanna catch up outside?" he asked, his eyes flickering towards the serene seaside just beyond the venue, as if beckoning us to a place where we could find solace in each other's company.

a surge of anticipation swept over me, my heart yearning for a chance to reconnect and unravel the mysteries of the past decade. "mark, it's so nice to see you here," i replied, a genuine smile playing on my lips. "sure, let's go."

with each step we took towards the peaceful seaside, it felt as if we were embarking on a journey to rediscover the unspoken words and unfulfilled promises of our youth. the possibilities lay open before us, as the waves whispered tales of past memories and the sea breeze carried the promise of a shared future.

"you suddenly disappeared after we graduated, why is that?" he asked

"i'm sorry, mark. something personal came up that we had to move." i answered and then silence engulfed us.

"how have you been?" i asked, my voice filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of apprehension. his response held the power to shape the course of our conversation, and i braced myself for the unexpected.

a faint smile graced his lips, revealing a glimmer of excitement and anticipation. it was a smile reminiscent of a child eager to share a significant achievement with their parents—a smile that hinted at something significant he wanted to convey. i couldn't help but notice the contrast between his current demeanor and the person i was ten years ago. back then, i would have approached this moment with unguarded optimism, but the passage of time had taught me to temper my expectations, shielding myself from potential hurt.

deep down, i acknowledged that there was a part of me prepared for disappointment, a defense mechanism against the potential pain that might follow. however, despite the self-imposed caution, i couldn't deny the flicker of hope that ignited within me, yearning for a connection that transcended the confines of time.

"i'm getting married in december," he said, his words cutting through the air with a bittersweet tone. his smile remained, but it was now tinged with a mixture of joy and sadness. "i'm so glad to see you today, y/n. you could be a part of my big day."

those words hit me like a wave, crashing against the fragile walls i had built to protect myself. the shards of my shattered heart from ten years ago seemed to reassemble, piercing me once more. the pain i thought i had long left behind resurfaced with an intensity i never anticipated.

the conflicting emotions within me waged a silent battle. on one hand, i wanted to be genuinely happy for him, to embrace the joy of his upcoming union. but on the other, a deep ache echoed within my soul, a longing for a different outcome, for a future where our paths intertwined.

as i absorbed the weight of his announcement, i mustered a smile, my voice trembling slightly. "congratulations, mark. i'm truly honored that you would consider me to be a part of your special day." behind my polite words, i hid the remnants of a broken heart, the realization that the pain of unrequited love had found its way back to me once again.

"and it's really nice to see how good you're doing. how far you've come. i am so proud of you, mark."

a heavy sigh escaped my lips as i grappled with the weight of my emotions. in that moment, i yearned to be selfish, to put my own desires and feelings first. but deep down, i knew the truth—i never had any rights to claim. i had been living in the shadows of unrequited love, forever playing the role of the understanding friend, while my heart silently yearned for something more.

method acting had become my expertise, allowing me to wear a mask of indifference, concealing the turmoil that raged within me. i mastered the art of pretending, adept at hiding the fact that being in his presence felt like a constant struggle to keep my head above water. i told him it was nice to see how well he was doing, but beneath the surface, the truth lingered, like an unspoken ache.

in the depths of my soul, i acknowledged the bitterness that threatened to consume me. it was a bitter truth that whispered in the recesses of my mind—i still loved him, and witnessing his happiness with someone else was a constant reminder of what i could never have. but i couldn't allow those feelings to tarnish the moments we shared, so i continued to play the role of the supportive friend, my true emotions concealed beneath the facade.

#Spotify #yo0nzino #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct dream angst #nct 127 x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct 127 imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee angst #mark lee #nct drabbles

192 notes · View notes

ken-dom · 5 months

Text

Make You Worse

Henry Letham x afab!reader

2.1k words

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Summary: Henry doesn't want someone to fix him.

Author’s notes: I've been promising Henry smut for a while, so to everyone who asked for it, here it is and I hope it suits! This was hugely inspired by a conversation with @silverlynx87, supported by @heresthestorymorningglory and @webbo0 who read my first draft, and then beta read by my husband. Thank you to everyone on Goosecord who has been excited for this, I hope it is worth the wait!

Warnings/content: NSFW, blood, biting, bruisng, intentional cigarette burn, cum play, oral (Henry giving), kind of rough sex

‘You don’t wanna do that.’

Henry didn’t look at you when he gave you his warning, glancing around as though he didn’t want anyone else to notice you’d tried to touch him with tenderness.

‘Yes, I do.’ You kept your hand over his, your knee pressed to his thigh, and your voice even as you turned to him.

His jaw twitched at the warmth of your gaze on him, and he dared to steal a quick glance.

‘No,’ he repeated firmly, ‘you don’t.’

He shifted away so abruptly then, your hand dropped into the space that suddenly appeared between you.

‘Why not?’ you pressed, sliding a few inches along the bench to give him space.

Henry took his time before answering you, nodding his head as though he were thinking through a long list of possible responses. In the end, he looked you dead in the eye and settled on a counter question. ‘You’re not afraid of me?’

‘No. Why would I be?’ You furrowed your brow with a bewildered smile, excitement bubbling beneath it. ‘Is there something I should be afraid of?’

Long strands of greasy hair fell over Henry’s eyes as he hung his head and huffed out a heavy breath. ‘Maybe. You don’t know me like I know me.’

‘I’d like to.’

‘Well, then you really would be afraid.’ Bouncing his leg nervously, Henry looked up, glancing around skittishly.

‘No one else needs to know, if that’s what bothers you. I won’t judge you, Henry.’

‘You won’t judge me?’ he spat.

‘No. I won’t judge you.’

Another incredulous huff. ‘You can’t fix me, you know.’

You smiled. ‘I don’t have any intention of fixing you.’

Henry smirked. This was new, and he couldn’t deny it was getting kind of interesting. Exciting, even.

‘Then what exactly do you want to do?’

‘I want to make you worse,’ you shrugged casually.

The air shifted between you immediately then, and Henry groaned, ‘Kiss me.’

Your eyes widened as though you might have imagined the neediness lacing his weak command, and while you hesitated, he impatiently repeated it; ‘Fuckin’ kiss me!’

You pushed forward, lips crashing onto his, and his long fingers immediately pushed into your hair, possessive and intense. He tasted like cigarettes and not much else; you wondered when he’d eaten a proper meal last, but the thought was fleeting, melting away when his tongue pushed entirely between your lips and forced itself against yours. As you were getting into his rhythm, he shifted his head and bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood, then lapping at it so softly the change of pace was jarring.

He pulled away then, leaving your head spinning and his own chest heaving.

His leg began to bounce again, and you bit your lip, sucking at the blood he’d drawn, patiently waiting to hear whatever he was thinking. You did that more than he knew, hung on his every word, fascinated with the way his mind worked.

‘You wanna… come back to mine?’

He didn’t look at you as he asked, and his voice cracked the way it might if he were about to cry, but no tears fell.

‘Yeah,’ you agreed simply, and he shook his head again in disbelief, wiping your blood from his lips and examining it on the back of his hand.

‘You want the real me?’

‘Yeah.’

****

The moment his door clicked shut he was on you, hands grabbing at your clothes and teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, almost sharp enough to draw blood there, too.

The cigarette between his fingers smouldered, threatening to set your sweater alight, but somewhere between sucking at your throat and hastily lifting your clothes over your head, he remembered it and offered it to you.

‘I don’t smoke,’ you panted, pulling him back to you.

It wasn’t what he was offering though. He knew you didn’t smoke. He’d paid enough attention to you to know that small fact, but he shouldn’t have assumed you knew what he actually wanted you to do with the remainder of his cigarette. Why would you? He’d have to try it another way.

‘Touch me,’ he breathed, and you slipped a hand between your bodies, palm sliding eagerly over the bulge in his trousers.

Jaw dropping, he buried his face against your shoulder, humming against your clothes at the delicious friction of you rubbing him through the fabric. He lifted an arm, pulling up the sleeve with his free hand and passing himself what remained of the cigarette.

The hiss he let out as he pressed the burning end into his pale forearm was pure relief, and it made your core clench. Henry bucked his hips into your touch as the searing pain reached its peak, feeling his cock leak and twitch against your palm.

He wondered what it would take for him to cum now he’d already used up one of his favourite tricks. Perhaps just the knowledge that you’d witnessed it and stayed would be enough.

You were still massaging his cock, and although weak at the knees, he stopped grinding against your touch and lifted his head. His eyes were cloudy and half closed as he slurred, ‘Y-you still want me?’ His breath was hot against your throat and his voice hazy with the thrill he’d just chased. ‘Now you know I’m a freak?’

‘More than ever.’

Henry’s blood boiled.

He spun you around, throwing you down onto the bed behind him and crawling over you as though he were possessed, tearing your clothes away and sliding down your shivering body to dip his head between your thighs and get a taste of you, lapping at your clit and thrusting a long finger inside so eagerly it made you jolt.

He moaned when he registers just how wet you were for him. Soaked, even when you knew he wanted to be hurt, that he might want to hurt you. Knowing that you didn’t need him to hold back on his darkest thoughts to get you aroused. Quite the opposite, and in turn that made his cock ache with desire.

His moans vibrated through your core, and your hands flew down to fist desperately in his hair. He seemed to like that, too, groaning against you with every tug of those soft strands. So you tugged harder, and he moaned louder, and the heat pooling at your core grew hotter. It was building so quickly, the heat in your gut and the sparks between your thighs, that you thought you wouldn’t last another minute like this.

But you felt cold in the sudden absence of his mouth when he moved up to face you, his handsome chin shiny with your slick. You let out a whine of protest, but his finger was still pumping fast inside you, curling against the spot you needed it most over and over until it was almost unbearable.

‘Wanna fuck you now,’ he mumbled in your ear, delighted with the way you were writhing under his touch and the lewd, wet sound his finger was making inside you.

‘Please-’ you begged, and before you’d even finished that one simple word, his lithe hips were between your legs, freeing his cock burying inside you.

He didn’t bother undressing properly, kicking his legs free of his trousers and underwear, with one sock still on and the other dropping from his foot.

Your back arched as he stretched you on his cock, hips snapping hard and relentless, hip bones driving sharp into your thighs.

‘That was so hot,’ you managed, breathless, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

It had been obvious you’d liked it, you wouldn’t be soaked like this if you hadn’t, wouldn’t be digging your heels into his back to spur him on, but Henry still let out a guttural little moan to hear you confirm it.

Perhaps next time you’d let him burn you while he has his hand down your trousers, maybe he could bring you to orgasm at the exact moment you scream out from the pain. He wondered if you’d like that. The way he liked it.

‘Take it off?’ you begged, pulling at his jacket and bringing him back to the present. ‘Wanna see you-’

He nodded hurriedly, too overcome with the idea of hurting you to form words, hips stuttering as he shrugged off his jacket and pulled his sweater over his head, ruffling his hair a little more.

The moment your hands were against his skin, you clawed your nails in, harsh and sharp, leaving crescents around his shoulder blades and scraping all the way down to his waist, relishing in the contours of every rib you dragged over along the way.

As you stung a deep trail of fresh red lines into his pale flesh, Henry gasped as though what you were actually giving him was a soothing massage.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and you knew he was close, that he was trying to figure out what would tip him over the edge.

‘What do you need?’ you asked in a whisper, and instead of answering, he slid himself out, kneeling back on his heels between your trembling thighs.

You whimpered weakly, your core throbbing and hot and so painfully close to release, only to be left cold and empty and untouched as Henry’s eyes raked over you as though he were admiring a work of art — his own, one he was proud of.

He leant down to drag his fingers roughly through your folds, dipping inside far too briefly to collect your slick, chuckling as you shuddered, and then wrapped his coated fingers around his leaking cock, pumping frantically as he watched you, breathless and flushed and desperate beneath him.

Your gaze wandered to the marks on his body; there were plenty of other cigarette burns that you couldn’t help wondering about. Were they from previous encounters? Had he scared them off the way he thought he would scare you off?

You landed on the fresh wound he’d inflicted in the centre of his left forearm, the small, slightly swollen circle still glowing red, that would eventually fade into a scar like all the others. But first, you could make the memory last.

You pulled his arm closer, and he collapsed over you, watching carefully to see what you would do to help bring him off. You pressed your lips gently to it first, and Henry hissed, feeling a swell of arousal.

A drawn out, strangled moan ripped from his throat when your eyes met his and your tongue slipped out between your lips to circle slowly around the burn, sparks of pleasure-pain sending heat rushing to his core, spilling his release over your chest and stomach in thick spurts.

‘Fuck… fuck-’ he panted, sliding down to lick up his mess in sloppy, needy laps.

He was moaning into it, tongue painting patterns against your skin with his seed, and then his head was between your thighs again, mixing your slick with his own, focussing entirely on your pleasure.

‘Fuck!’ you cried, squirming under his intense ministrations, his hands pressed to your hips in a bruising grip to hold you down. You hoped it would bruise; another work of art that would linger on your body, something you hoped he’d come back to admire, and to recreate.

Henry was good with his tongue. He’d been a needy kisser, which, as it turned out, made for exceptional skills between your thighs. Only a few precise flicks of his tongue he had your back arching off the bed, fingers tugging at his hair again as wave after wave of pleasure flooded your body and his name slipped from your lips like a prayer.

Henry dragged another orgasm out of you before he resurfaced, satisfied and slightly dazed. He laid beside you, smirking to himself as he found and lit a cigarette.

‘You know,’ he mumbled, as he exhaled a long stream of smoke, ‘someone once said to me it’s worth sticking around because there’s just too much goddamn beauty. And I think I understand what that means now.’

You knew he didn’t mean you specifically. You could sense he was attracted to you, but what you’d just shared hadn’t simply been about attraction. It had been about him using your bodies as a canvas, painting you with your blood, his seed, his bites and bruises, marking him with your nails and the cigarette he’d burned into his arm while you pleasured him.

The beauty was in the act, and the way he was able to share it with you. It was in the way he had felt able to open up and it hadn’t scared you away.

You were still here, after all.

#not s f w 💀#henry letham #henry letham x reader #henry letham smut #stay (2005)#ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #henry letham x you #henry letham fic #henry letham x y/n #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

114 notes · View notes

yeoosaangg · 7 months

Text

Touch My Body || Kinktober - Day 9

pairing ▸ seo changbin × f!reader

now playing ▸ touch my body - mariah carey

⤷ ❝i just wanna make you feel like you never did.❞

genre ▸ non-idol au, established relationship, smut

warnings ▸ body worship, praise, fingering, semi-public sex

--------

Your boyfriend hums, inspecting your outfit.

Y/n: I think if I get this in black, it'd look more fitting.

He scoffs, pulling you in for a kiss.

Changbin: You're crazy for thinking such things, darling. You're beautiful in every color.

You giggle, running back into the dressing room.

Y/n: Thank you, Binnie.

He sits down on the soft chair, waiting for the next dress. He's going to buy everything for you, he just likes when you show off for him.

He hears you whine and perks up when you call his name.

Changbin: Yeah, baby?

Y/n: The zipper's hard to pull up on this dress. Can you help me?

He carefully opens the dressing room door and slips inside.

Changbin: Wow! You look gorgeous.

Y/n: I don't think so. The yellow makes my tummy more noticeable.

He rolls his eyes. It's getting ridiculous how much you're putting yourself down when you rival a goddess' beauty.

Changbin: Stop being so mean to yourself, baby. I love everything about you and more. Do I need to give you a reminder?

You suck in a breath when he starts to kiss the space between your neck and shoulder. His big arms wrap around your body, feeling you up wherever he can touch.

You lean into his chest, head resting against his broad shoulder.

Y/n: What if- Mm- What if we get caught?

Changbin: Don't worry about that, love. Right now, this is all about you and your beautiful body.

He removes the dress, letting it pool around your ankles. He sits on the bench and pulls you to sit on his lap.

Changbin: Never take your eyes off the mirror. I want you to see how gorgeous you can truly get.

He spreads your legs, rubbing your clit through your panties. You hum, his finger drawing circles as a wet patch forms from your arousal.

Changbin: Want to know what I see everytime I look at you? I see a woman that isn't afraid to speak her mind even if people hate her for it.

He pushes the thin fabric to the side, his finger sliding up and down your folds. You bite on your bottom lip, whimpering as quietly as you could.

He shoves a finger inside of you, pumping slowly.

Changbin: When other women tried their hardest to come in between us, you shut them down and staked your claim. You never once let them make you feel inferior.

He adds another finger, increasing his pace.

Changbin: I don't get why whenever you're with me, you repeat those awful things they tell you. Have I ever made you feel that way?

You shake your head. He's done nothing but love and cherish your existence.

Changbin: Then why, my love? Why do you keep saying such mean things about your body? You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever got the pleasure to meet.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, hand covering your mouth as you clench around his fingers. He doesn't stop until your orgasm hits you hard.

Changbin: Look at yourself, baby. This is when I find you the most beautiful. When you let your guard down and let me take care of you, worship your existence.

He pulls his fingers out and licks your juices clean. You catch your breath, clenching on nothing at the sight.

He pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. He aligns himself and slides inside slowly, the stretch making you shiver with pleasure.

His hand is still covering your mouth, muffling your quiet moans. He guides your hips up and down, slowly fucking up into your pussy.

Changbin: The look on your face tells me you love it when I talk about your beauty. Need me to reassure you how much I love you? I'll gladly be here to do so.

You steady yourself, bouncing on his cock a little faster. He looks down in between you, loving the way his cock disappears into your swollen cunt.

All for him.

The sound of your ass hitting his pelvis can be heard, but you don't care. You love the way he makes you feel, the way he loves you.

He never fails to remind you of how beautiful you are.

Changbin: So perfect, baby. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. The only thing that matters is you. My love for you is real and forever will be.

You watch him from the mirror. He's smiling at you fucking yourself on his thick cock. He isn't doing this for his pleasure, but yours.

Y/n: I love you, Seo Changbin.

His smile widens, grabbing your hips amd slamming into you.

Changbin: I love you more, angel.

You both cum at the same time, covering your mouth as your juices run down to his balls.

Changbin: So fucking stunning, baby.

You stay sitting on his cock, legs twitching from the intense orgasm you just had.

Y/n: So... Get the dress?

He laughs, kissing you on the cheek multiple times. He finds you so adorable, even if your face was flushed out from getting fucked by him.

Changbin: I'm buying you everything, love.

He helps you up, dick sliding out. You grab your purse and hand him tissues. He cleans you both up, helping you into your original clothes.

Y/n: Thanks for everything, Binne. I'm sorry for always needing to be reassured.

Changbin: Nothing to apologize for, darling. I love telling you how much I love you. Even if it means I gotta fuck some sense into you with my-

You kiss him to shut him up.

He smiles, pulling you close to him.

Y/n: Let's go home, babe.

Changbin: Good thinking. I hate when you have to hold back your pretty sounds.

Y/n: And who's fault is that? Always fucking me in public.

Changbin: Can't help it. You're perfectly mine and I love appreciating you.

You giggle, feeling giddy from his words.

You know, without a doubt, that this is the man you're going to marry one day.

---

a/n: he's slowly climbing the ranks... i already bias danceracha, imagine adding changbin to the mix? i'll forever be delusional! thanks for reading ‹𝟹

92 notes · View notes

l-e-e-woso · 1 year

Note

120 & 72 for Mapi

Couple Goals - Mapi Leon

Prompt 120 - “Take my jacket, it's cold.”

Prompt 72 - “You’re so fucking cute.”

_________________________

Even though Spaniards are known to be very touchy with others there was something about how Mapi touched and treated you that got a lot of Barca fans speculating that there was more going on that you both let on.

The both of you weren’t going out of your way to hide the fact that you were in a relationship with one another but fans always wanted you and Mapi to confirm it which is what you were trying to figure out how to do.

Unfortunately your thoughts got caught short by Mapi who had placed herself in your lap making you wrap your arms around her waist and cuddle into her chest. She runs her hands through your hair as she swayed back and forth to the music that was playing in the apartment.

You manage to look up at Mapi with a loving gaze without her noticing. You just sit there for a while just looking at her as she holds you in her embrace.

“Oh shit…I almost forgot the reason I came over here. We need to get ready to go, the game starts in like two hours.” Mapi says as she starts to remove herself from your lap but you hold onto her waist and pout up at her in annoyance.

“Stoppppp…you know that i can’t resist that face. You’re so fucking cute.” Mapi groans as she looks down at your face where you were looking up at her pouting with puppy dog eyes and she just leans down to kiss you causing you to smile into the kiss.

“Fine let’s go.” You say standing up and heading towards the bedroom to get a hoodie which was actually Mapi’s but you claim it as your own.

After a while the both of you are in the car heading to the game. Currently you are injured so you have to sit on the bench which isn’t the worst thing in the world but it definitely does suck.

_________________________

The girls were currently warming up on the pitch as you were sitting on the bench next to Alexia who was more than happy to keep you company.

“How is living with Mapi going?” Alexia says trying to make conversation with you but not wanting to talk about football because she knew that you were quite sad from not being able to play and if anyone understood that it was Alexia.

“It’s great. I mean I thought she treated me really well when we weren’t living together but now it’s like she tries to be even more romantic and charming as before which I didn’t even know was possible. She has even cooked for me, multiple times!” You start to ramble on about living with Mapi and honestly Alexia loved it because she was so glad that both of her best friends were in a very happy place in their relationship. What you and Mapi had was rare in Alexia’s eyes.

“Mapi has always been a huge teddy bear when it comes to relationships but then again I have never seen her act the way she does around you. I don’t think that Mapi has ever once cooked me a snack let alone a whole meal and we’ve known each other for years before you joined.” Alexia chuckled as she thinked back to some of Mapi’s past relationships, I mean sure she had been romantic but nothing like she was when she was with you and Mapi cooking for you? Alexia didn’t even know that Mapi could cook so to find out that she cooked for you regularly is quite shocking.

“I never even thought I’d have such an amazing relationship, I mean being with Mapi has made me think of the future. Which I’ve never done. I just take it one step at a time but I can see myself marrying her and having a family with her some day.” You say as you think of all the times you have seen Mapi interact with kids, they all looked up to her and she was amazing with kids whether they were a baby or a ten year old fully grown child. You knew that you would definitely marry Mapi either some day soon or in the future, either way you just wanted to be with her for the rest of you life.

“I can just imagine little Mapi’s running around breaking peoples ankles.” Alexia laughs which draw the attention from some of the fans behind the bench which causes you to look at them and give them a wave.

_________________________

Barca had won, not that anyone expected them to lose and you could tell from the atmosphere in the stadium.

You and Alexia had walked over to celebrate with the girls which is when the cold hit you causing you to shiver which doesn’t go unnoticed by your very caring girlfriend.

Mapi walks over to you while she takes off the jacket that she was given by one of the trainers and holds it out to you. “Take my jacket, it's cold.” Mapi says as she stands as close as she can to you without stepping on your feet with her cleats.

This action from Mapi makes you blush as you slip on her jacket then pull her towards you into a hug while wrapping the open jacket around her and then all you can hear is the fans chanting yours and Mapi’s names.

Deciding to give the fans a show, Mapi leans in and kisses you on the lips with so much passion it almost takes your breath away.

_________________________

Taglist: @sofakingwoso @dutch-gay86 @gt713 @mmmmokdok @xxforeverinadayxx

#mapi leon #mapi leon imagine #mapi león x reader #barcalona #barca femeni #womens football #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #my fic #requested

494 notes · View notes

batterygarden · 1 year

Note

If you do sub denji stuff could you ever done one about him and reader doing some semi public stuff?

study session

Cw: MDNI! Denji x F!Reader, established relationship, she wears a skirt, semi public sex, unprotected sex w the creampie 💘, slight subby Denji, college age/college setting! Wk: about 2k

thanks so so kindly to the lovely @akicore for beta read!!!

m.list

On Friday nights, the last place you’d choose to be is the library, trying to wrap your head around calculus concepts. And yet here you sit, the clock just reaching 8pm and with enough work remaining to bury you here the whole weekend. You’re proud of how much progress you’re making though, with the help of a new lo-fi beats playlist you found on spotify to keep you focused. Your boyfriend, believe it or not, is also quite focused beside you. Only instead of the research project he came here to work on, Denji’s attention is fixed on the little scraggly flowers he’s been doodling on his notebook margins for the past five minutes.

Suddenly your music cuts off anticlimactically, and the song that was playing is replaced by the dull buzzing of the library lights above you, and the soft hum of a few other people talking and moving about the big room. You sigh—your headphones must have died.

You shift your eyes off of your laptop screen for the first time in too long, feeling them burn slightly from the uninterrupted staring and peek at Denji, finding him absorbed in a drawing he’s making.

“How’s your progress?”

Denji jumps, this is the first time either of you have said anything in almost an hour.

“God. You scared me. Uhh,” he looks down at his brainstorming, “honestly, i’m pretty checked out for the day! Researching stuff sucks. This essay’ll just have to write itself some other time.”

“Essays don’t tend to do that. But i’m sorry—I didn’t even notice you were done here, you must have been so bored!”

“Nah don’t worry about it, I only gave up just recently. Wasn’t bored.”

“Want me to look over what you have? I could try and give some tips.”

Next thing Denji knew, you were sliding up next to him on his bench, sitting unnecessarily close to look at his laptop and notes.

Not that I’m complaining though, Denji thinks as he scoots closer against your plush thighs. The neckline of his tee shirt you were borrowing droops lower on you than it does on him, and somehow when you lean close to talk it opens to a perfect view of your braless chest. He can’t focus on a word you’re saying.

“Denji? Denji!”

He slow blinks back up to your eyes. When you raise your eyebrows he shakes his head to clear it.

“What was that?”

You huff and then, to Denji’s utter astonishment, grab his hand and shove it under the waistband of your skirt, sliding it over your panties. The fabric is sticky and soaked.

“Woah.” His cock twitches in his pants. He looks around quickly at the near-empty library, you both are sitting in a corner and no one seems to be paying attention to you. He automatically starts rubbing you slow through your underwear.

“Didn’t expect you t’be this wet right now.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his.

“You didn’t even-hhh-hear me. Said I was ready to leave,” you inhale shakily, “but now I'm not so sure.”

Denji gives you stupid eyes.

“Ya want me to keep touchin’ you out here?”

You turn your head to bite his shoulder, keeping yourself from moaning when his finger starts circling your clit a bit faster.

“No.”

“No?” Denji’s hand freezes. Then you point a shaky finger at the study room nearby. Denji purses his lips and raises his eyebrows, you can practically hear the silent for real? he’s asking. When you nod in response, you’re both quickly shuffling papers, closing laptops and throwing your things into backpacks.

Denji throws them both over his shoulders and takes your hand, biting his cheek to keep from smiling too much while you grab a few straggling pencils.

When the door to the study room closes you immediately pounce on him—knocking his legs against the table while he tries to carefully set down the backpacks. You’re impatient though, barely letting the straps leave his shoulders before you’re pushing him down, accidentally forcing him to fall back against the hard surface. “Ow!”

There’s a wide-eyed pause while you both listen to see if a librarian’s coming to yell at you for the noise. When there’s only silence, you crawl on top of him, interrupting whatever remark he was about to make with a rushed kiss. He leans onto an elbow to meet you easier, pulling your hips down so you’re straddling his hard cock. And instantly you’re rocking, grinding desperately against him while your skirt rides up and he whines into your mouth.

“Need you so bad,” Denji groans against your lips while he sits up fully—unable to stop his hips from bucking upwards or his needy hands from squeezing and kneading their way to your sides.

“Yeah?” You start grinding more slow and deep, moving careful so the table legs don’t move.

He nods against you, fast and eager, and the next buck of his hips makes the wood beneath you creak.

You put a finger to your lips and pause your movements—a reminder to stay quiet.

Then you’re pulling apart to undo his pants, trying to slow your heavy breathing while he does the same. He’s still a bit twitchy while you work on his belt buckle, accidentally moving his hips towards your touch then blushing when you smile at him.

You successfully unzip them though, and then you have to crawl off the table to help him pull the pants down, fumbling with the denim to come loose. Everything’s hurried, you’re both suddenly so desperate for more that going slow isn’t an option.

So when his pants are finally pulled down, then his boxers too, you’re immediate when you push him back to sit on the table.

You could pause—you might have if you were in one of your rooms. You could worship his thick cock and tell him how pretty it is, you could touch it nice and slow at first and then lick his precum, you could make him go crazy. But you’re in the library and you’re desperate to feel him inside you already; you don’t even know when it closes.

So your panties are ripped off before he can situate himself, then you’re lifting your knees onto the table around him and straddling his hips. Denji’s hands are frozen, he’s so turned on he can barely think let alone move, and he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re about to fuck him in the library. He thinks he must be dreaming—he’s certain of it when you spit in your palm and start stroking his dick, getting him ready for your pussy.

“Denji,” you whisper, breaking him out of his trance.

“Hm?” His hands find your thighs.

“S’this… okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.” He nods while he talks, making eye contact with your lips. So you line him up with your entrance, sighing when you feel his tip start to slide in. You’re wet—enough that the initial stretch barely hurts—Denji’s size usually always takes some adjusting to. Then you’re both shakily inhaling as you slowly slide yourself down, and Denji whimpers when you bottom out.

“Y’okay?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his back to pull him close. Denji wraps his arms around you too, dropping his head over your shoulder and breathing in your comforting scent.

“Soo okay.”

You sit still for a moment, heart melting in Denji’s big embrace. You’re so warm now, despite the heavy air conditioning; you love holding him like this—snugly connected in every way. But when you shift a little you’re reminded how stiff his cock is inside you, and how sweet every movement feels. So you roll your hips. Gently at first, but gradually picking up speed. It feels so right, he feels so right. Soon your hands are tangled in his hair while Denji’s lips find your neck, kissing then licking then sucking, likely leaving bruises. You have to bite your lip to keep quiet—your senses overwhelmed.

And so are Denji’s. For him, everything is you, you’re in his lap, in his arms, around his cock, on his tongue. It’s the kind of feeling that makes him wonder how he was functioning without it. When you pull him into a messy kiss, never ceasing the steady movement of your hips, he can’t stop himself from moaning, slurring how soft you feel against your lips.

“Shhh, Denji. I know it feels good but I need you to be quiet.”

You’re panting and holding back moans yourself, trying to maintain enough restraint for the both of you. It’s so easy to forget where you are when he’s hitting all the right places inside of you, sighing sweet words against your skin. It’s easy to get lost in the feeling of his hand sneaking under your shirt, palming your breasts, and then tugging one of your nipples. It’s easy to start slamming down hard the way you know makes Denji Dizzy, forgetting that you’re perched on an old table instead of his bed.

A particularly loud creak of the wood makes you freeze your actions, face heating up. You look at the door again, but then Denji’s lifting your shirt more, stealing your attention when he leans down to drag his lips across your chest.

“Ngh. Denji,” you whine, holding him close and arching your back when he captures a nipple in his mouth. His big hands find your hips again, pulling you up and down, helping you resume your movements.

He has to work to keep his voice quiet when he says “Please don’t stop. Want you to keep goin’.”

What Denji doesn’t realize is that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. At this point your body is moving without your command, chasing a high that only he can bring. So you pull him up into a new kiss, your lips frenzied against his while his cock hits you perfectly over and over.

Each stroke is more intense with Denji helping you, making him struggle to kiss you back. You can tell he’s getting close the more his lips falter, his jagged breaths filling your ears. So you use his shoulders for leverage, pushing yourself up and down more quickly with their support. At this point you don’t care if the whole library can hear squeaking from the study room, all that matters is that both of you can get each other off soon.

“M’gonna cum.” Denji’s struggling not to groan when he talks.

“Good boy. You’re doin’ so good for me,” you say, gripping his neck and rubbing your thumb over his cheek. You want to burn this image of him in your brain forever—his messy golden hair and lidded eyes, his glossy parted lips. You actually like how the fluorescent study room lights capture him, how you can clearly see all the cute details of his face.

But you like how he looks when he’s cumming best of all, throwing his head back while his eyes scrunch up—the bridge of his nose wrinkling. So you force yourself to keep your eyes open when you reach your high too, riding it out while his hot seed makes a mess under your skirt, watching Denji spasm below you. You barely notice his grip on your sides has become bruising, only feeling the waves of orgasm wash over you, electrifying you in the way that would have rendered you silent even if you were in the privacy of your own room.

Denji has to lean forward again and bury his face in the crook of your neck, pressing his mouth to your skin to keep his noises at bay as his cum is pushed back into you over and over. It’s too much, he’s so sensitive, but he’s not confident he could tell you that without losing control over his voice completely.

When you finally slow your movements around him, and your cunt stops clamping down so tightly, Denji is able to lift his head from your shoulder and meet your eyes. He doesn’t expect to find lust still swimming within them. But then-

“I’m so glad our schedules finally lined up to get this project over with.”

“Me too. Should we find a room?”

You hear other students outside the door, their voices getting closer.

thanks so much for request anon! I also got one for fucking him in a study room so i combined prompts <3

#denji x reader #denji x you #denji/reader #csm x reader #subby Denji #bf denji #boyfriend Denji #denji fanfic #denji fics

728 notes · View notes

kiwwia-wiwwia · 6 months

Text

We'll Be Alright - Matt Murdock x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Takes place post- s3 so i can do whatever i want hehe. The oh-so-overdone pregnancy trope with lots of fluff and hurt/comfort. I didn't proofread this and honestly I kinda hate it but whatever. NO USE OF Y/N because i hate it.

Series warnings: Discussion of vomit, blood, medical procedures, pain, mentions of miscarriage, pretty much all the pregnancy stuff.

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 1

Matt sighed as he waited for the elevator, anxious to get home to you. You’d called him earlier and told him that Ellison had sent you home early from work, claiming you looked dead on your feet. You’d been overworking yourself recently at The Bulletin and Matt had noticed the toll it was taking on your physical wellbeing. You were exhausted and often felt nauseous, although he knew you were trying to hide it. The elevator finally arrived and he stepped in, hitting the button of his floor and listening impatiently to your heartbeat above him as the elevator ascended. He made his way down the hall and paused when he heard an unusual sound coming from his apartment. He tilted his head in concern when he heard a soft groan leave your mouth, quickly moving towards the door of your shared apartment.

The door was unlocked, despite him constantly getting on you about locking the door when you were home alone. He made a mental note to bring it up again later. He set down his keys and cane on the bench by the door and made his way towards where you were in the bathroom. “Sweetheart?” He called out, alerting him to your presence. He heard you swear under your breath before you shuffled around on the floor. He cocked a brow at that. Why were you on the floor? “I’m home, is everything alright?" He paused, listening as you whimpered quietly in response. "You don’t sound great,” he said softly against the bathroom door. Another discontented noise left your mouth as the door swung open, revealing your form slumped over the toilet bowl.

“Threw up,” you bluntly stated. Your hands gripped the toilet as you gagged, leaning forward. “Might do it again. Ellison made me go home because I almost puked on him, which would’ve been bad. But I gotta finish-” You gagged again and Matt could hear the way your stomach was churning angrily. “-Gotta finish the article,” you mumbled miserably. Matt hummed sadly, settling down next to you on the floor.

“Love, don’t worry about that right now. You’re obviously not doing well, maybe you need a break from work, hmm?” He traced his fingers over your arm, earning a pleased sigh. The bliss was abruptly cut short as you violently retched and emptied the contents of your stomach. Matt winced at the sound, drawing your hair away from your face with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. The scent of your tears mixed with the sour smell of your bile, a horrid concoction in his nose. You sighed and flushed the toilet, the scent gradually receding as you shakily got up to wash your face. “I don’t know what’s going on,” you sniffled. “My back hurts and I’m nauseous and my boobs are sore, I can hardly stay awake, and-” you stopped, your entire body going rigid. Matt shot up next to you and cupped your face in his hands. “What? Sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a shaky exhale and silently pushed past him, entering the living room with panic evident in your gait. Matt confusedly followed you, concern flooding his body. You fumbled around the couch until you found your phone, quickly tapping through your health app. Your eyes widened and you sucked in a sharp breath. Matt was only becoming more and more alarmed at your silence and he tentatively reached out to put a hand on your shoulder. You glanced at him, his face asking you a silent question. “I’m late,” you whispered. “I’m two weeks late, Matt. Oh my god.” His eyes widened as he realized what you were saying. “Do you think you’re…?”

You shrugged helplessly. “It would make sense. Fuck, Matt. I don’t…” you took a shuddering breath, tears pricking your eyes. Matt wrapped his arms around you, anchoring you to reality. He could hear your heart hammering in your chest, your unspoken fears consuming you. “We’ll be okay, love,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll be alright.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, quiet sniffles escaping as you pressed yourself against him and he trailed his fingers comfortingly up and down your spine.

-*-*-

“Fuck.”

The two of you were seated on the couch, three pregnancy tests displayed in front of you on the coffee table. All three had that god-awful word that you’d feared since college, too many scares embedding this reaction in your mind.

Pregnant.

Matt exhaled loudly, his mind obviously racing. “Okay. This is okay. We… we didn’t expect this so soon.” Your head whipped in his direction and you snorted involuntarily. He tilted his head, one brow raised in confusion. “What?” You shook your head, an amused smile ghosting your face. “So soon? Were you planning on having children with me, Mr. Murdock?” He flushed at your words and you laughed again, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. “I mean, you moved in with me, didn’t you? You couldn’t have done that without some kind of thought about the future.” You hummed in response, leaning against him. “I thought about it, yeah. Just…” you chuckled softly. “Like you said, not so soon.” The two of you sat there silently for a moment before you remembered something and gasped, smacking him on the knee.

“Matthew.”

“What? What did I do?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you know what day it is?”

He stared at you, confusion etched across his features. “...Thursday?” His eyes widened in realization. “Oh my god. It’s Thai food Thursday.” You nodded sagely. “The time-honored tradition of Thai food Thursday mustn’t be forsaken on this day.” Matt snorted, causing you to break character and giggle. He groaned dramatically as he stood, reaching out a hand to haul you up with him. You sighed and looked down, placing a hand on your abdomen. “Let’s hope pad see-ew is something you like, little nugget. Because honestly, that’s the only food that doesn’t make me want to puke at the thought of it.” Matt’s hand joined yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your knuckles.

He knelt in front of you, the expression on his face soft and reverent as he spoke. “I’ll make you a deal,” he whispered into your belly. You smiled softly. “If you let your mother eat her beloved Thai food without puking,” he continued, “I’ll tell you about how she tripped up the stairs after our first date when you’re old enough to laugh at her with me.” You gasped in mock offense as he smirked up at you, mischief coloring his features. “Matthew!” You scolded, earning a bark of laughter from him. “I did not trip. I just- you were-” you sputtered in exasperation, playfully smacking him on the head. “That’s cheating,” you mumbled. “You can’t bribe our unborn child with tales of my misfortune.”

He grinned as he stood, pressing a quick kiss into your hair. “Not even if it means you can have pad see-ew?” You shook your head with an amused huff. This is how things were supposed to be. You and Matt bantering, laughing and poking fun at each other. You’d be alright. After all, there was no one you’d rather be doing this with.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Again, definitely not my best work but I promise it'll get better with more installments. I plan on having this series show reader and Matt throughout the pregnancy, labor/delivery, and with the newborn. Of course, it wouldn't be exciting without some angst in there, so look forward to that :) like and reblog so I know I'm not just screaming into the void

#matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil netflix #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #pregnant!reader #dad matt #charlie cox

128 notes · View notes

oatmealcrisp-freak · 7 months

Text

here's the first part of the break up fic cus idk when/if this'll be finished :3

“I really can’t stand,” Aren growled out between knitted teeth. “Dishonest people.”

Those words hit him like a truck.

Kusuo looked at his lunch tray, seated right next to Aren’s, with a hollowness rising in his stomach. Across the table, Kaidou laughed and the conversation turned to the newest release of SiCy but Kusuo barely heard it. His ears were ringing. He was nauseated. Shame welled up in his mouth - it tasted like acid.

It wasn’t directed at him.

It didn’t matter.

He closed his eyes and did his best to breathe.

Perhaps sensing his unease, Aren’s hand slid around the small of his back and attached itself to his hip with thoughtless demeanor. Kusuo looked upon it, upon its wide and scarred expanse on the green of his slacks. Took note of the heat where it pressed into him.

He clenched his teeth.

Who the hell was he fooling.

He reached down and took the hand from his hip then stood and grabbed his lunch tray. He was done. He couldn’t eat anymore. He couldn’t sit here anymore. He couldn’t let Aren touch him anymore.

Not after hearing that.

He was done.

“Kusuo?” Aren asked as Kusuo stepped out from the bench.

He could feel Aren’s eyes burning into his back.

He sucked in a breath, clamped it all down and back, and walked away.

For the rest of the day he tried to put it out of his head, but it refused to stay gone. It scratched at him, a scraping scalpel digging relentlessly at his composure.

Who had he been fooling? Seriously? Getting together with Aren, having hope for once for the future - he’d been stupid. Aren had gotten into his head somehow and made him forget the very pertinent reasons for avoiding relationships. For two glorious months he’d deluded himself that he could have something human.

Aren made him stupid.

Aren made him selfish.

He wanted to keep this, Kusuo thought as he stared out the window during a lecture on economics. He wanted to keep going like he’d never heard Aren say that. He wanted to keep pretending to this sweet normality that he’d been walking in as though his powers didn’t exist.

He really, dearly wanted to.

It would be more convenient that way too. This was the new status quo that he’d foolishly agreed to. Could he afford to disturb it?

He looked over at Aren, and could tell right away he was doing his best to pay attention as well as he could. His leg was jiggling furiously and his brows were mired in concentration, his sharp eyes purely focused on the board as he took his notes. How good those notes were was debatable. There was a zit on his chin. Kusuo had noticed it this morning. He knew it was rude to stare at zits, because normal people didn’t like them for some reason, but he couldn’t help but be a little enamoured of it. Aren’s nose scrunched - he was having trouble wrapping his head around a concept. There went another doodle of his motorcycle, joining several more and a medley of Dragonball Z characters because Aren wasn’t Aren if Aren could concentrate on a lesson without drawing. That in turn made Kusuo look at his hands. The cuticle of his thumb was frayed. His nails were clipped short. Kusuo was a big fan of Aren’s hands. He liked it especially when they were on him.

He liked holding onto them too.

Aren liked it when he did that even, which was the real shocker. For some reason Kusuo couldn’t divine, Aren liked him. Aren liked touching him. Worse, Kusuo had found he didn’t actually mind being touched if it was Aren - something as simple as holding hands, or a kiss on the cheek, or a cuddle, he’d warmed quite quickly to all of those things that Aren enjoyed too. It felt safe.

He wanted to keep that.

He remembered the way it’d felt when Aren had touched his hip in the cafeteria after saying what he had - how polluted it’d felt. How he suddenly hadn’t been able to stand it. How he’d run away.

Aren hated liars.

How could Kusuo let him touch the single biggest liar of them all? It’d felt so wrong. It’d made him sick.

How had he deceived Aren into loving him?

Him, of all people?

Kusuo looked back out the window, heart beating a sluggish, sick pace.

‘Everything looks so normal.’ He thought as he took in the blue sky.

Funny, that, given it felt like the world was crumbling.

It sayed with him for the rest of the day. The school doors opened ahead of him and Kusuo looked up. Aren’s purple bangs shifted over his sky hewn eyes as he looked down at him, and he smiled.

There wasn’t a single miserable thought in his head. He couldn’t sense it. How strange. Usually his instincts were so keen.

Something inside Kusuo trembled. It was a miracle it didn’t reach his hands.

“Want to get some coffee?” Aren asked, and reached up to scratch at his cheek as it blushed red. “We can go to the usual place.”

“Ou, the lovebirds are gonna make smoochy smoochy faces at each other,” Nendo jeered then yelped as Kaidou elbowed him.

Aren blushed deeper but laughed. “If he’ll let me, sure.”

“Come on you big oaf, leave them alone. We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Kaidou asked, trying to pull Nendo away and failing.

“Yeah.” Aren waved, then looked back at him and held out his hand.

Kusuo looked at it, feeling as though his heart was dripping right out of him.

It would be strange to ignore it.

He took it, and it made him feel like a monster.

Kusuo knew what he had to do.

~~~~

Aren had a boyfriend.

His first, he thought as he looked down at the pink head next to him, and his last, because this was the man he was going to marry someday.

He squeezed the hand in his, hoping that Kusuo would look up at him instead of staring at the ground. Kusuo didn’t look at him, but did squeeze back. His fingers were laced around Aren’s firmly, firm enough that it’d take effort to pull away.

His eyes seemed shadowed.

Aren wasn’t a fan of that.

It was hard, granted, to see the exact nuance of Kusuo’s eyes through his glasses and hair, but something about his face reminded Aren of that disturbing moment at lunch when Kusuo had taken his hand off him and left without a word.

Mind, Aren was used to Kusuo simply leaving a conversation when it suited him. It was one of his more endearing charm points.

This had felt different.

But now they were holding hands.

So it was fine.

Right?

It didn’t feel fine. Some instinct in the back of his head was telling him that something was wrong here, something very difficult not to listen to because Kusuo so rarely shied from his touch. In the two months they’d been together, he’d had the joy of witnessing a steady dripping thaw in the other boy, a reciprocity, and a deep fondness for cuddling that Aren was really enjoying. Most of the time if Kusuo was in a mood, all Aren had to do was hug him, and that was all it took to make Kusuo feel better.

It was a privilege to be able to do that. It was one Aren held close to his heart.

With school he hadn’t really gotten the chance for a good snuggle since lunch, however, and Kusuo was touchy about public displays of affection besides. Best to secret his boyfriend into the privacy of a booth and give him a good cuddle there.

If Kusuo would let him.

Aren would admit, Kusuo shying from his touch had really taken it out of him.

Something was clearly not okay. But it would be okay. He was certain of it.

After all, they had each other, and that was what mattered.

Aren pulled Kusuo’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. When he opened his eyes again, Kusuo was finally looking back at him with something shattered in his eyes.

Aren felt his gut curl in concern, and tried to smile.

Kusuo looked away, and Aren’s concern mounted.

Fortunately, Cafe Mami was found in short order. Aren settled his arm over Kusuo’s shoulders and led him to a booth, a nice private one toward the back. Cafe Mami was Kusuo’s favourite cafe. If there was anything that could cheer him up, it was some of their coffee jelly, and a good snuggle. Aren was certain of that.

Hell, it’d cheer him up too. He was worried.

He just wanted Kusuo to feel better.

Kusuo wasn’t loosening up into his touch. It was like holding a cardboard cut out. They settled into the booth, but Kusuo sat away from him on the other side. Aren stared at the other boy, trying to make out any expression in his face and finding none - an eerie blank wall was looking back at him.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Aren swallowed and opened his mouth to ask, but it was at that moment that a waiter came to their table and cheerily asked for their order.

“Uh.” It took Aren a second to recalibrate. He tried for a smile in answer to the waiter’s own. “Coffee please. Black.”

“Sure thing. And you, sir?”

Kusuo stared at him with empty eyes. “Nothing. Please.”

A stammer of goosebumps swept up Aren’s back. Heart in his stomach he stared back at Kusuo, then flicked his eyes to the waiter, then looked at Kusuo again and tried to figure out why that was so unnerving. Kusuo wasn’t getting coffee jelly? He was getting nothing?

He was staring…

Even the waiter seemed confused. “Ah. Alright. But if you change your mind let me know.”

He wrote it down on his little pad then nodded at Aren with a customer service smile. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

“Thanks…” Aren said, not looking away from Kusuo.

The waiter walked away from their booth and they were left in the remote silence, the soft happy music playing on the crescendo of Aren’s nerves with awful, sticky, contrast. He swallowed it back and gave his head a shake. What the hell, dude. What was he so afraid of?

This was his boyfriend.

Aren put on a smile. “So that’s-”

Kusuo sucked in a breath that rode his shoulders up to his ears. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“-not,” Aren blinked. “...What?”

Had he heard that right? No. No there was no way he’d heard that right. His smile cracked and expanded around the edges. “What’d you just say?”

But Kusuo just looked at the table, his eyes round and his lips pencil thin rashes of paleness on his face. He turned his head to the right. To the left.

He shifted, and started to slide out of the bench.

No. Hell no. Aren quickly got out and slid into the opposite bench, blocking Kusuo in. He reached out and grabbed the other’s hand but it wouldn’t budge into his, staying firm and tightly laced to the seat.

“Kusuo,” He lowered his voice, doing his best to catch Kusuo’s eye. “Look at me. What’s going on?”

Kusuo said nothing. He wasn’t exactly given to talking to begin with, granted, and Aren had loved that about him, had loved his quietness and the way Kusuo could turn even that companionable. Cohabitation of space was a symptom of his trust and affection, Aren was pretty sure - slicing that up with mindless chatter simply wasn’t Kusuo’s style. Aren had experienced that so rarely before, a peaceful quiet, but with Kusuo it felt like his life was made of it. He was hooked. He was addicted.

He couldn’t lose this.

“C’mon, babe,” Aren hissed and pressed in closer, his heart pounding in his ears as he gripped the wrist tighter. “Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong. You can’t-not just like that, you gotta-”

Fuck, what the hell was he even saying?

“Your coffee, sir.”

Aren flinched and whipped around, his fist slamming into the pleather backrest.

“Can’t you see we’re having a moment here?!” Was out of his mouth before he could even try to claw it back, and the startled expression on the waiter’s face only made it worse.

“S-Sorry,” Aren stammered. “Just. Uh. Th-thanks.”

The waiter put the coffee down and left. Aren turned back. Kusuo still wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t fucking looking at him.

Aren thought he was going to be sick.

“Kusuo, come on.” He said and reached out, pulling Kusuo’s chin to face him and begging to see his eyes. Fuck, he was pathetic. “Tell me what this is about so we can fix this-”

Kusuo finally looked at him in the eye but it wasn’t a comfort because his gaze was empty and cold, stealing Aren’s breath and plowing right through him. This wasn’t a friendly, familiar look - this wasn’t the Kusuo he was used to. This wasn’t even the Kusuo he’d met on his first day at P.K., this was something different.

Worse.

“It’s not you,” Kusuo said, pulling at his wrist and jaw both to take them from Aren’s hands. “It’s me. Let me out.”

What-

What the fuck was that?!

And just like that, Aren was fucking enraged.

“What the FUCK are you talking about?!” Aren didn’t even try to keep his voice down. “‘It’s not you, it’s me’?! That’s some bullshit people say when they don’t give a shit and I know you, I know that’s not you! You CARE about me, Kusuo.”

Kusuo’s jaw seemed to twitch for all of a second before it was gone, barely a wobble then it was tensing up tighter than Aren’s fists and he was lifting his chin in that confrontational way that drove Aren fucking nuts.

“No,” Kusuo’s eyes were chillier than an arctic blast. “I don’t.”

Aren saw red.

He couldn’t fucking stand this.

He grabbed Kusuo’s chin again and shoved their mouths together in a sharp clack of teeth, his fingers crunching down on jaw bone and the smooth clavicle of Kusuo’s shoulder. He had to make him see sense. He’d kiss it into him if he had to-!

Kusuo groaned under his mouth and a warm hand clasped down onto his wrist. It wasn’t working. Kusuo wasn’t softening. What was this?

Where had the boy he thought he’d known gone? Where was the Kusuo who would sigh into him, who would search for him with his lips, who’d confessed to him during a quiet night that he’d used to hate kissing until it was just the two of them, where was he?

Where had he gone?

The fingers on his wrist turned in tight and with a surprising show of strength wrenched his hand away from Kusuo’s chin, and Kusuo shortly ripped his mouth away. There was a searing gaze haunting behind spectral green shades for a second and then Kusuo was stepping onto the booth, stepping between Aren’s legs, and jumping down from the bench.

He was-

He was leaving him-

Aren’s body moved before he knew it, his hand grabbing Kusuo’s wrist.

“Don’t-” He gasped through his buzzing, fumbling lips, his eyes desperate upon Kusuo’s face. “Don’t go.”

Kusuo gave him one more cold, searing stare, and then slapped his hand away. He turned. He walked away.

Aren’s legs were too numb to go after him. He stared after the departing back of his boyfriend, collapsing slowly into the bench. And then Kusuo was gone.

Aren stared at the doors for longer than he knew before it hit him.

Kusuo was gone.

Kusuo had broken up with him.

Aren scrubbed his hands through his hair, leaning over the table, completely numb and broken through to the quick all at once.

‘He didn’t even tell me why.’ God. All he could see was those blisteringly cold eyes boring into him. Kusuo had said he didn’t care. Kusuo had said it wasn’t Aren, it was him, like it was all some fucking joke.

Kusuo, Aren shut his eyes and tried to reach for the memory of the soft and pliant boy he’d just been getting to know, could be a real fucking asshole sometimes.

Fuck.

What did he do now?

Right now, Aren barely felt like he could move.

It wasn’t fair, he thought as he buried his face in his hand and sucked in a harsh, stuttering breath. It wasn’t fucking fair.

‘He didn’t even tell me what I did wrong.’

Leaving the cafe was an exercise in humiliation, when Aren finally got his legs under him. It felt like every eye in there was staring at him, and after that little fiasco why wouldn’t they be? It pissed Aren off, which was good, he fucking needed it.

“Fucking staring at me, square up to me homey and I’ll show you all what’s good,” He hissed as he slammed the door shut behind him. He stomped as he walked, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he furiously rattled his brain for what the fuck to do now.

It took him seven blocks to realize he was crying.

That just pissed him off even more.

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and threw back his head, giving a loud yell of fury to the sky. Of course that meant everyone stopped to stare at him again, and he barked, “What the fuck do you think you’re looking at!?” before he could begin to think of stopping himself. The people on the sidewalk around him quickly went back on their way and Aren stared around himself, seething.

Where did Kusuo get off?

Where the FUCK did he get off, making Aren feel this way?

He started back on his way, to where he didn’t know but away from here was fucking grand, and clenched his fists tightly.

He didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t live without Kusuo in his life. That was the man he was going to marry someday.

The desperation was tearing him apart. It couldn’t end this way.

It couldn’t.

#freaks fics #i've never gone from being excited about something to pure apathy so fast.#saiki k #kubosai #does it count if theyre...yknow? well anyway

62 notes · View notes