#but first i would have to find a roommate and also an apartment with space us both for $1000 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannieehaee · 5 months

Text

18 + / mdi

content: pantysniffer!mingyu, pervert!mingyu, the unexpected return of this mingyu, established relationship, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), face-sitting, etc.

part 1

wc: 1384

a/n: i randomly thought abt a continuation to that one mingyu fic i wrote like a month ago and now here we are

masterlist

you thought he would've been done with this by now. i mean, you were dating; exclusively. you had been dating for about a month, so it was quite strange for mingyu to still have this habit.

when you'd first met your boyfriend, you had only been roommates. he was clean, he kept things tidy, he was respectful of your space, and most important of all, he was really hot.

you hadn't known him very well until first moving into his shared apartment, only having ever heard your best friend vernon mention him in passing. which wad why you were in utter shock upon moving in with vernon and mingyu, now realizing that your best friend had been gatekeeping this muscly hunk from you.

admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but you were an adult and you also appreciated the friendship you had quickly built with mingyu, deciding to not act on anything, or even give off any type of hint of your school-girl crush on him. this platonic dynamic, however, did not last long. but its demise was not your doing.

it all started some random afternoon, in which you had headed over to take a shower at the usual time you tended to. having roommates, it was just easier to have a schedule, so you'd always abide by it. except today's routine was quickly interrupted by the unexpected sighting of your panties in mingyu's hand, pressed against his nose while he breathed in the scent. you had only wanted to ask him for extra conditioner, not bothering to knock on his door (your bad), but absolutely not expecting to find the culprit to all your misplaced panties from the past month.

like any reasonable girl, this interaction ended with you letting mingyu fuck you into next week, but only after being thoroughly eaten out by the man as he lost himself between your legs. in very predictable fashion, this resulted in a relationship arising between the two of you, immediately informing your friend vernon that he would now have to third wheel as the three of you continued to be roommates.

you had thought that was the last of it. the last time mingyu would let his depraved tendencies thief you of yet another pair of panties. i mean, he had the real thing now, so there was no need for a washed out scent of your cunt for him to get off to, right? wrong. you had forgotten your boyfriend was obsessed with you, and by result, the lacy panties he knew you wore day after day.

that's why it shouldn't have been surprising when you walked into his room (which was pretty much yours by now) to find him in the same position you had a month before. you wanted to be scandalized, but much like last time, you were incredibly turned on at the thought of mingyu being so addicted to you he'd seek your panties if he couldn't have you immediately.

he noticed your arrival, not stopping his movements even as you neared him, closing the door behind you.

"baby ... left me all alone. 'm sorry, just needed you so fucking bad ..." his movements on his dick sped up, whining and pouting at you for fulfilling your adult duties and leaving him on his day off to go to work.

"gyu ... baby. wanted me that bad? couldn't wait for me to get back?", you were close enough now to caress his cheek, making him lean into your hand as he moaned at your condescending tone.

"mhm," he nodded, "can i have it? want the real thing, baby. wanna drown in it."

"how can i say no to you, pretty? c'mere, let me-"

"my face! sit on my face, baby, please!", it wasn't too common for him to beg for you, only ever happening when he was overly pussydrunk for you, so you were taken aback for a moment.

surprisingly, you had never sat on his face to date, despite his constant insistence on eating you out almost every day that allowed for it. to be fair, you two worked a lot, and had only been dating for a month. there hadn't been enough time to explore more positions or even explore each other as much as you'd want to.

"gyu? are you sure? what if i-"

"its fine!", he was suddenly not as dizzy from the arousal the scent of your panties had given him, all focus now on the thought of your thighs encompassing him as he licked at you from below their weight, "i can take it, baby, i promise."

it took a bit of enticing from him to convince you, with him beginning to kiss your neck and sneaking his hand under your shorts to run his fingers up and down your already-wet panties. he succeeded too quickly, knowing you had as little power to resist him as he did you.

and so now you were sitting on his face, worries buried deep in your brain as your boyfriend's tongue delved into the farthest depths of your cunt. you couldn't help yourself in holding onto his hair and begin riding his tongue, too blind on pleasure to even think.

what you hadn't realized was that your boyfriend was off even worse than you, constantly moaning against your cunt while his hand remained occupied on his own dick. he had never felt more turned on, falling in love with the weight of your thighs on his face.

"gyu ... feel so- so fucking good, shit! please ..." you had no idea what you were begging for. there was nothing more mingyu could do to make you feel better than he already was. he had managed to render you senseless, with no coherent thought left in you.

"so fucking good .. shit, so tasty, baby. ride me just like that ..." that was what you could make out of his mumbled words muffled by your cunt, but regardless, knowing he felt pleasure from the simple act of sucking on your clit made you even more aroused.

you began to ride him at an animalistic speed once you realized your orgasm was approaching, face now wet from the tears of pleasure he had pulled from you. mingyu was in no better state, humping his own hand at a similarly inhuman pace, cumming halfway through your own orgasm.

you fell limp on the bed, wearily removing your weight from his face and letting yourself become boneless while he somehow managed to get himself up to get some wet wipes to clean up the mess, but not without attacking your mouth with his tongue for a few seconds before actually getting up, moaning at the whine you let out at your taste on his tongue.

"shit. we have to do that again. we have to do that every time from now on. we-"

"okay, slow down," you giggled as he cleaned you up, "i need to recover. you're crazy, gyu, jesus christ."

"what? is it illegal to love pussy?"

"as much as you do? it should be. also, you're still stealing my panties? gyu, i-"

"listen!" he interrupted you again, now having thrown away the dirty wipes and wordlessly positioning the two of you so you could lay against each other under his covers, "it was an emergency, okay? i was so horny, you have no idea. and your panties were right there! it's like crack, baby. i couldn't help myself. are you mad?", he was pouting by the end of his explanation, paying no mind to how ridiculous he sounded.

"of course not, gyu. it's actually kinda, uh, i-"

"oh my god. you still like it?! you like when i sniff your panties and i'm the perv?", he gasped, now facing you as he berated you.

"shut up! i'm not the one going around sniffing people's panties, okay? you're the perv!"

"nuh uh, baby. can't turn this on me. gonna be stealing your panties even more now. i dont care if i can have the real thing, want both. gonna make you sit on my face every day too. cant even pretend you dont love it anymore," he was smug about it, knowing he was completely right.

"fine. you can steal my panties. happy?"

he dared giggle in response, "very."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenario #mingyu smut

1K notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means, the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world.

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.”

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated.

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do.

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while.

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is.

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment.

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something.

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light.

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate.

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck.

"I was just looking for.. uhh…"

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed.

" Shit. Sorry, let me-"

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly.

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-"

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-]

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen.

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless.

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples.

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early."

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge.

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it.

So naturally , you were sent to kill him.

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer - particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable.

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower.

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside.

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry.

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange.

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily.

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?"

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold.

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view.

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial.

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought.

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him.

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you.

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression.

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-"

He shrugs, noncommittal.

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt.

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile.

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes.

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter.

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time.

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile.

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?”

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky.

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong?

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #eventual smut #angst #kat_writes😼

1K notes · View notes

quin-ns · 11 months

Text

Fake Blood (Ethan Landry x Reader)

Word count: 5.6K

Summary: spoiler: the blood isn’t fake. alone in your apartment after your friends had been attacked, you ask ethan to stop by. he does in an unexpected way and you get more than you bargained for

Tags: (18+), friends to lovers, minor violence, knife tw, flirting, making out, virgin!ethan, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, the ghostface robe stays on during sex, denial ab ethan being a murderer :) (if bad why hot?)

A/N: just watched scream 6 for the first time only a few days ago and couldn’t get this psycho out of my brain (tiktok edits didn’t help lol). timeline might be a little wonky but tbh it’s not relevant. also this follows the theory that ethan did the big apartment attack. I really wasn’t expecting this to be this long but it’s worth it yall I promise

cross-posted to ao3 • scream masterlist • main masterlist

As much as you liked Mindy, if you knew becoming friends with her would lead to you being integrated into her friend group of past and present serial killer victims, you might’ve thought about asking someone else to partner up with you for a presentation in your film studies class.

When you’d asked her, it was mostly to avoid having to accept an offer from a guy named Jason, who had always stared at you during that class and brought up the ‘Stab’ movies whenever he could (this was before you knew your friends knew him, but you still got a weird vibe from the guy).

She’d been excited to hang out with you after you two gave your presentation, and that’s how you wound up spending most days with her and her tight knit group of friends.

You were probably closest with Mindy, but you liked her brother too. For a guy named Chad, he was actually pretty chill. You got along with Tara as well, who was in a bit of a rebellious phase after being attacked and nearly killed, which you only learned about once they trusted you enough. Her older sister Sam was mostly cool too, but a bit overprotective. There was a gloomy aspect to her, but you supposed it made sense given that she was betrayed by her murderous boyfriend and now the internet peddled theories that blamed her for a series of killings in their home town of Woodsboro.

They had a tight bond, and even though you grew close with each of them, you knew you’d be an outsider. Like Tara and Sam’s roommate Quinn, Mindy’s girlfriend Anika, and Chad’s roommate Ethan. You all had shared multiple conversations about their trust issues. It must’ve been hard to even start to trust people after all that.

Out of all of the other “newcomers” as Mindy once put it, you got along with Ethan the best. He was a little quiet and sorta dorky (which your friends would tease him about a little—all friendly, of course) but he was fun to talk to. You guys liked a lot of the same stuff, including horror movies, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute.

In your opinion, with his curly dark hair and eyes to compliment, the whole “shy guy” thing was part of the appeal.

You wondered if he’d ever make a move, or if he even knew you were curious about him in that way. You wouldn’t go so far to say it was a crush for your ego’s sake, but you wouldn’t send him running off with his tail between his legs like you did with most guys.

Like that guy Jason from film class, who, just before Halloween, was killed alongside his roommate by a masked killer.

“Didn’t he have a thing for you?” Mindy asked you as you were all gathered around the TV, finding out the news together.

You were sitting crammed in a chair next to Ethan since the others had all taken up the couch space. He didn’t seem to mind, but it did unfortunately make it easy for them all to look your way and stare. You didn’t like the attention.

You were in shock at the news, especially when the anchor revealed Jason had also killed your film professor. Ethan pointed that out, saying if the guy was crazy enough to do that he might’ve even gone after you.

“Maybe the killer who killed him did you a favor,” Quinn suggested in response to Ethan.

The thought terrified you. You looked around the group. “Do you guys think he really would’ve hurt me? He seemed weird, not psycho.”

“We talked not that long ago, nothing seemed off,” Tara revealed with a grim look. “He asked if you and Sam were gonna come to the party.”

You hadn’t planned on going—what the hell would’ve happened if you had?

You exchanged a look with Sam, who seemed to have the wheels in her head turning.

You zoned back into the news as the reporter explained the mask found was a ghostface mask—like from the Stab movies. And of course, the actual Woodsboro killings.

“Pack a bag,” Sam told her sister, springing up to move around the apartment building.

Sam and Tara argued, which was a little weird to witness. You tried to sink back into the chair, while Ethan looked at you like he wanted to say something.

Hopefully it wasn’t “get out of the chair” because you didn’t think you could move.

The night ended with you going back to your little apartment alone. Your roommate was out of town and so your anxiety was on high alert.

A lot had happened that night apparently, including Sam and Tara getting attacked in a convenience store and them being questioned by the cops.

As much as you cared about them, you feared what would happen if you were with them.

That’s why the next night when you were invited over, you had been hesitant. A government paper was the perfect excuse, but you had FaceTimed with them so you all could keep an eye on each other.

You sat at your little desk, your laptop opened to work on your paper, and your phone propped up on your cup so you could talk to them hands free.

Apparently everyone was together at the apartment except Ethan, who told you he was studying in the library when you texted to ask him. You responded that you were working on a paper and that if he wanted to come over to keep you company, he could.

You’d spent some time alone with him, but not a lot when you really thought about it. It was always in the group—who were all murder suspects, according to Mindy’s movie rules.

You knew you weren’t the killer, and you had absolutely no motive. The others were still suspicious of you so that hurt a little (maybe that was another reason why you were keeping to yourself), but you did your best to understand that they weren’t just suspicious of you.

Everyone was a suspect, and no one was safe.

You felt even less safe when Mindy said she’d call you back. You didn’t know why she had to hang up so urgently, but you had a feeling it had to do with the emotional conversation Tara and Sam had been having in the background. You couldn’t make out most of it clear so you avoided mentioning it.

You sighed and checked your chat with Ethan. He hasn’t responded to your text. You were getting nervous now that you weren’t video chatting with your other friends anymore and the thought of being home alone didn’t bring you much ease.

You thought about just going over to the Carpenter’s (and Quinn’s) apartment, not wanting to bother Ethan further. Maybe he was ignoring you on purpose.

However, it was a far walk there. You didn’t feel safe making it alone at night—especially with a killer on the loose, likely targeting your friends. If you had a car, maybe, but you were a broke college student who could barely afford a place to live.

You sucked it up and double texted Ethan, this time asking if he could come over and that you were worried.

When he didn’t respond right away, you gave it a few minutes.

A little while longer passed and since you now couldn’t focus on your paper, you tried to call Mindy back. Then Tara. Then Chad. Then Sam. Then Quinn. Then Anika.

Not a single one of them answered.

You took a deep breath. Then, you went to double check that your door was locked.

You tried to call Ethan, but his phone went immediately to voicemail. It must’ve been dead or powered off.

That left no one else to call, and you felt more alone than ever.

You sat down at your desk and tried to focus.

You ended up going to your bedroom, putting on sleep clothes, and watching a comfort show under all your blankets instead, paper completely forgotten.

Your phone dinged from your bedside table and when you looked at it, you saw a message from Ethan. Only a few hours late, but he said he was on his way up.

That was sudden. You tried to not overthink being alone with Ethan too much.

A few moments later, there was a knock at your front door.

You climbed out of bed, not really caring that you were wearing sleep shorts and a baggy shirt. Your friends had seen you go to class in about the same when you had all night study sessions.

When you got to the door, you got a little nervous. But you knew it had to be Ethan, so you tried to push the anxiety aside and unlocked then opened the door.

You were met with shock and horror.

Towering over you in your doorway stood a figure in a black robe… and a ghostface mask.

You tried to slam the door, but the person caught it. You choked on a scream when they shoved their way in, holding a knife. There was a small stain of red on the metal blade and a darker, bigger mass on the robe.

Blood. Blood was red.

You scrambled back and tried to think of where to go. None of the doors in your apartment locked, not even the bathroom door.

Your heart and mind raced and suddenly you were spewing words.

“I don’t know what to say to make you not kill me, but I please don’t,” you rushed out.

The person—the killer—moved closer to you after shutting and locking your front door.

You ran, but there was really nowhere to go. The killer ran too. You tried to lure them to the bathroom and shove them in, but they dodged and had you almost within their grasp.

They didn’t slash the knife, though.

You ran for the front door, but the killer grabbed you by the arm. You were shoved back against your hallway wall and pinned. Your back slammed against the wall, but not hard. They held the knife to your throat—not too close, but it was still there and still kept you frozen.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

The words came out before you could stop them. You internally scolded yourself. That’s the kinda shit the girls who got murdered asked.

There was a laugh, and then a familiar voice.

“I’d never do that.”

By the time the killer reached for the mask and pulled it off, you still hadn’t processed your shock.

“Ethan?” you gawked up at him while he gave you a cheeky smile. He let the mask drop and the hand holding the knife fell to his side.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he said through a smile, excited eyes scanning your face for realization.

“Is this… is this a fucking prank?” you questioned, finally comprehending. “Ethan, what the fuck!?” You shoved him back by his shoulder, admittedly a little pissed. “You’re covered in blood!”

He stayed standing in front of you.

“It’s fake, I promise. It was just a joke,” he reasoned, looking a little guilty. “Y’know, cause Halloween and… alright, maybe my timing isn’t great.”

You scoffed out a laugh at that. “It’s terrible timing. There really is someone after us.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Ethan apologized with a small, apologetic smile. You stared at him, still surprised. He looked so innocent for someone that could pull off, let alone come up with, such a messed up prank.

“Is this where you’ve been? Dressing up to mess with me while there really is a killer after us?” You questioned, raising your brows and crossing your arms.

“Y’know, if there really is a killer after us, we probably shouldn’t let each other die virgins,” Ethan stated in a flirtatious way he easily could’ve played off as a joke. Maybe it was entirely a joke, but you played along in a different direction.

You scoffed. “And you’re just assuming I’m a virgin?”

He shrugged, the long fabric of his costume rustling. “I see how you are with guys. They want you, you never want them.”

“So what, I’m a tease?” you guessed, used to hearing that but a little disappointed to think it would come from him.

“No,” he clarified quickly. “But they’re just never good enough for you and you know that. Like that jerk Jason.”

You cringed a little at the mention of him, and then felt bad about that. The guy had been murdered, after all.

“Don’t say that, he’s dead.”

“So what?” Ethan asked plainly, surprising you a little. “He was a killer too. He could’ve gone after you, you should be grateful to whoever did it.”

You furrowed your brows. He was starting to sound like someone else. “Grateful?”

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be.” Ethan’s expression as he spoke was one of reassurance. “You could’ve been next, you never know. He was one of those guys who couldn’t take a hint that he was beneath you.”

You had no idea he thought that way about you—that there were men he deemed unworthy. It was enough to distract you from the shift in his demeanor.

“And what? You’re saying you’re one of the guys who’s good enough for me?” you couldn’t help but wonder. You never thought about your dating history (or lack of) like that.

“Hell no,” he said, surprising you yet again. You were expecting a ‘yes’ with the way he was coming onto you all of the sudden, but what he said carried even more of a self-depreciating brand of charm. “But I’m hoping maybe you’ll pity the loser who’s had a hopeless crush on you for a while now and give him a chance.”

“You’re not a loser,” you said before you registered the rest of his words. When you did, you were taken aback at the confession. “But you’re not usually this… bold, Ethan.”

You wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but there was a lot wrong these past few hours.

“What can I say? I’ve been feeling more confident recently.”

You hummed, understanding that in a way.

“Maybe it’s the whole ‘we could die any second’ thing,” you ventured a guess.

He smiled to himself, like you’d just referenced an inside joke you weren’t a part of.

“Could be,” he agreed. He laughed a little and looked down at himself, then met your eyes again. “Sorry about scaring you. It was in poor taste. We both like horror movies… I don’t know, it was stupid.”

You scoffed, but you weren’t really mad anymore.

“I like horror movies, I don’t want to be in one,” you told him, eyeing the knife he held loosely in his right hand. “Is the knife real?”

“What?” Ethan asked, feigning confusion. He lifted the knife and examined it. “This knife?”

“Yeah, that knife,” you parroted back his playful tone. “You said the blood is fake, but is the knife real?”

A devious look crossed Ethan’s face. He held it to your throat slowly, holding it horizontally. You didn’t flinch, much to his pleasure. He seemed almost impressed.

“Gotta be authentic, right?” he mused, eyes flicking to your parted lips as you breathed steadily. “Can I kiss you?”

When his curious eyes looked back at yours, you couldn’t help but notice he still held the knife. The rush of excitement you felt scared you more than the fear of him letting it slip forward.

“What’s the knife for?” you asked with a surge of confidence, taunting him a little. “If I say no?”

Ethan laughed at that. He pulled it back and let it drop to the floor. It clattered against the wood, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. But it wasn’t from fear—it was from anticipation. Maybe your curiosity was a little more than that after all.

“You’re safe with me,” he assured. “Promise.”

His words felt layered, but in a way you couldn’t define.

Perhaps it was his way of saying he’d protect you. Maybe it was strange, especially given his entrance, but you found yourself feeling exactly that with Ethan. Safe.

Nothing was going to hurt you, certainly not him.

“About that kiss…” you started, giving him the indication that he was looking for.

Ethan took the hint and ran with it, lips crashing into yours in the blink of an eye.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was needy and hungry. You tried to move your lips in sync with his, but he was much more dominant.

A joke that you’d never say flashed by about him practicing.

It was easy not to laugh when Ethan’s hand threaded into your hair and his tongue began to explore your mouth.

The leather glove felt strange. It made you pull back a little, which you almost couldn’t do with the way Ethan eagerly chased your swollen lips with his own.

You glanced over his costume again. It looked really legit—when did he have time to get it? Was he actually gonna wear this for Halloween? You swore you remembered him and Chad talking about some other costume he made out of cardboard for the frat party.

Before you could spiral down that path, Ethan pulled the leather gloves off quickly and cast them aside. It was like he could read your mind. Both hands went to your face, pulling you to meet him halfway in another searing kiss.

You didn’t know what was coming over you, but whatever it was was causing arousal to stir in your belly.

You figured out the answer to that pretty quickly.

It was want. You wanted Ethan.

“Is the other offer still on the table?” you uttered softly when you and Ethan had to part for air.

He grinned, unable to contain it.

“Thought there was no way in hell that would work,” Ethan admitted a little breathlessly. “Thought I never stood a chance with you, but I liked you anyway.”

Ethan had a boyish charm about him usually, but now that was combined with a streak of deviance that you finally now noticed.

You weren’t expecting to be as intrigued by it as you were.

“Give yourself a little more credit,” you told Ethan, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch a little. One hand rested on your shoulder and the other fell to hold your hip, tucking under your baggy shirt and rubbing your skin beneath. “You are pretty cute.”

Ethan’s smile only grew, but when you leaned in to kiss him again his lips met yours.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and guided the two of you to the ground with your back leaning against the wall. He was in front of you, on his knees, with you in his lap.

You ran a hand through his curly hair and you guided his lips back to yours. From what he’d revealed, Ethan hadn’t had a lot of experience with girls. It was a damn shame, because the boy was a great kisser.

His hand caressed your thigh as he trailed upward. You gave him a soft sound of encouragement when his fingers found their way to the waistband of your shorts.

“Is this okay?” Ethan asked, which made you want to grab him and kiss him again.

“Yeah.”

His hand slid into your shorts and your underwear.

One finger—you guessed middle—pushed inside of you. A small gasp escaped you at the intrusion and he watched your face.

Ethan was making sure the sound wasn’t of pain, which it wasn’t, and you appreciated that.

He withdrew the digit, then pushed in again. He repeated the motion a few more times before adding his index finger.

Ethan’s breathing grew heavy as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. He thrust and curled them inside you with rhythm. He managed to find one pretty quickly. That plus his thumb rubbing at your clit, you were falling apart in mere minutes.

Your brief orgasm rocked your whole body, leaving you clenching his fingers and quivering.

Ethan muttered things to you, but you could hardly hear over the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Your head rested back against the wall as you caught your breath, still trembling from the aftershocks. Ethan withdrew his hand from between your legs and out of your shorts.

Your eyelids felt heavy, but in between slow blinks you saw him lift his fingers to his lips. You watched breathlessly as he placed them into his mouth and moaned at the taste of you.

No words would come out of your mouth, but he took rendering you speechless as a compliment.

“I’ve thought about that,” Ethan started, voice a little ragged. He was watching you, but his hand had moved off to the side. “What you’d look like… what you’d sound like… what you’d taste like.” The awe in his eyes as he spoke left you swooning.

“And?” you managed, sitting up a little straighter.

With the change in your angle, you could feel the bulge in his pants, even though the added layer of the costume he had yet to remove.

“You’re better than I ever imagined,” Ethan finished.

A scrape against the floor alarmed you. You looked to the sound and saw Ethan grabbing the knife off of the floor.

You watched as he brought it between your bodies. He first tucked it through the leg of your shorts, the cold metal sliding against your skin as it caught under your underwear as well. Then, he pointed the sharp side facing out. Finally, he sliced up through the fabric. You gasped a little as the cold air of the room hit your newly exposed skin. He did the same with the other leg, then pulled the tattered material away from your body.

You did the honors of pulling off your shirt. You didn’t have a bra underneath and you almost laughed at the way Ethan gawked at your fully naked body when you cast it aside.

“Your turn,” you told him. You were completely undressed, while he still wore the long, black disguise.

“Actually,” Ethan said a little eerily. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I was thinking I could leave it on?”

It was a question, there was room for you to say no. Maybe you should’ve, it was a little weird. But you weren’t really thinking about that. You were more focused on how badly you wanted Ethan to fuck you, and that clouded your brain.

“As long as you don’t put the mask back on,” you relented in a joking tone.

“You’re so fucking cool,” Ethan rushed out before slamming his lips into yours. The knife was cast aside again—you didn’t see it happen, but both of his hands were on your face.

You laughed a little against his lips, dazed and drunk on arousal. You didn’t really care about the logistics of it.

His hands moved down, but you were distracted by his lips dominating yours.

You heard the sound of his zipper being undone and he moved a little—you guessed shoving his pants down his thighs.

There was no time to look down because in a rush, Ethan was pinning you back against the wall with his body. One hand gripped your waist, holding you in place for him. The other was presumably guiding his cock to your entrance.

You gasped a little against his lips when he started to press forward while simultaneously pulling you down into his lap. The fabric of the costume draped over your thighs, blocking your view.

The stretch of his cock pushing into you was more intense than you could’ve predicted, but your whole body trembled with pleasure at the feel.

Finally, he either got too excited or lost his patience, and guided you down the rest of the way until he was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ethan cursed to himself, body straining to keep from moving. His head dropped to your shoulder, heavy breaths hitting your neck. He leaned against you, forcing you against the wall.

His cock twitched inside of you and his body tensed, trying to hold back.

You panted slightly, trying to get your breath back. You ran a hand up his back and you felt him shiver. Your hand moved up the back of his neck and into his mess of curls.

You always liked Ethan’s hair.

You gave a small, barely qualifiable tug, but it had an effect. His body jerked, causing him to move inside of you. You gasped a little, but the motion felt good.

He lifted his head to look at you. His face was a little flushed and the lust blown look in his eyes made you quiver.

“You can move,” you whispered out, not trusting your voice.

Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He secured the arm around your waist a little tighter and he put the other hand on the wall, giving himself leverage.

The slow drag of him moving out of you made you gasp for breath. The thrust back in knocked the air out of your lungs.

He set a quick pace after that, hips slamming eagerly into yours as the pleasure and excitement overwhelmed him.

It felt good, really fucking good.

Neither of you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were sure you’d figured it out because your whole body tingled with pleasure.

You cried out his name, which only spurred him on.

In a jarring movement you could hardly track, Ethan dragged you from the wall to the floor. He put himself on top of you, never once withdrawing from inside of you.

He watched your face as he pounded into you. Ethan had more leverage this way, able to grip your hip in one hand while the other held the top half of him off of you by being planted on the floor near your head.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, which you couldn’t see because the bottom half of your body was covered by the black costume. You hardly paid any attention to that aspect. You didn’t care that he wore it, not when you were this caught up in pleasure.

(In hindsight, you should’ve).

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Ethan breathed out, hips starting the stutter with every thrust.

The knot in your belly started to tighten as he buried himself into you over and over.

You couldn’t speak, your breathing was so labored as you reached to cling to him.

His head dropped down to your shoulder as he allowed more of his body weight to fall onto you. You found yourself enjoying the feel of him truly being on top of you.

You hardly noticed the fake blood smearing onto your bare skin. When you did, you were too gone to care.

You bucked your hips, meeting his stuttering thrusts. He was getting close to his edge and so were you. You moaned beneath him as his forceful thrusts sparked pleasure through your entire body.

“I’m close,” you managed to moan out against his ear.

“Oh, fuck,” Ethan groaned out, cock pulsing inside of you at the thought. He lifted his head enough to be able to watch your face. “Come again for me, please,” he panted out, nearly falling over the edge at the mere anticipation.

The begging was hot, and your body was already ready to give him what he wanted.

You noticed his eyes flicking down your body, seeing the red stains on your skin. That was quickly forgotten by you when your whole body began to tense and quiver. You held onto him tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

You didn’t see his eyes linger.

Ethan couldn’t hold it together, not with the way your body tightened around him as your orgasm rocked you.

He collapsed on top of you, holding you against him as his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were clenched shut as he frantically shoved his hips against yours, burying himself deep. His cock twitched, his whole body shivering as he spilled himself inside of you with a moan.

The sound of him alone was enough to prolong your pleasure as you rode it out, but the extra movement and the feeling of him filling you was an added bonus.

He kissed you hard on the lips, effectively pulling the air from your lungs.

After a moment, he found the strength to roll off of you, only to then drag you to his side.

“I can die a happy man, now,” he joked morbidly.

You shoved him a little by the shoulder like you had before, but not enough to actually make him go anywhere.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you argued weakly.

He flashed you a brief grin. “I meant it as a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes and did you best to laugh it off.

You lost track of how long it took you to move from the floor to your couch. The same thing happened between the time it took for you to get from the couch to your shower.

It was a tiny shower that couldn’t fit two people, so you rinsed off as quick as you could. You were tired, and your legs felt weak, and you knew you’d be sore in a way that would make it hard to keep calm tomorrow.

Whatever he had used for the blood, at least it washed off fast. You were able to finish up in a matter of minutes.

You threw on new pajamas and crawled into your bed, managing to tell Ethan to take however long he wanted and that he could stay over if he wanted.

You found yourself hoping he would.

You were nearly asleep when the shower shut off and Ethan finally joined you in bed. He was only in his boxers and a black t-shirt, which he must’ve been wearing under the costume robe.

A thought nagged at the back of your mind about the costume, wondering why he’d gone through all of that just to mess with you for a minute—albeit a terrifying minute. It didn’t seem like him, but then you remembered you’d only met him a few months ago.

You were so exhausted you fell asleep in his arms, not awake enough to care about all of the weird details. In fact, the only thing you could think about was how much you liked falling asleep with Ethan’s arms around you.

In the morning, you found out your friends had all been attacked.

You showed up with Ethan after the feed on your college’s chat app blew up with images of cops swarming and ambulances outside of Sam, Tara, and Quinn’s apartment.

Mindy seemed relieved to see you, but not so much when she realized Ethan was with you. Maybe she’d cleared you as a suspect in her head.

She yelled at him to stay back, accusing him of being the killer. Nobody was taking Quinn’s death well, but Mindy was especially heartbroken over Anika.

“Stay back!” Mindy yelled at Ethan, who did as she commanded.

Everyone turned on him then, even Chad. Everyone except you. They demanded his alibi.

“How do I know you’re not the killer, roomie,” Chad spit at him, amped up.

“I was with Y/N last night,” Ethan defended, holding his hands up in a small show of innocence, before you could say a word. “We were… preoccupied, alright?”

You wanted to elbow him for how he worded it, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. It might’ve been on purpose, you weren’t sure.

He wasn’t close enough to do that, though, and now all eyes were on you.

“Yeah, he was with me,” you backed Ethan up.

You weren’t going to leave him hanging because it was the truth, but you knew what that implied, and so did your friends. They all shared subtle—but not unnoticeable—looks. Your face felt warm, while Ethan bit back a prideful smile.

“So you guys, um…”

“Chad, stop,” Tara scolded him before he could point out the obvious.

“Point is, we had nothing to do with this,” Ethan stated.

We?

They were suspicious of him, and now he was lumping the two of you together. There were always two killers in the movies—you began to doubt if the alibi would ease their anxiety or only spike it.

You thought back to when he had showed up to your apartment in that costume. He’d scared you, but you accepted it when he told you it was a joke that he mistakenly took too far.

It made you wonder. What if it was him?

If he wanted to hurt you, he easily could’ve. That didn’t seem to be his intention. What was? Seeing how much he could scare you? Get your heart rate up? Seeing if you wouldn’t believe him?

Or was it seeing if he could put the evidence right in front of you and have you ignore it because of a crush?

Fuck. Maybe it was some weird combination of all. Were you that gullible? Or were you overthinking it now?

Your brain struggled to come up with a conclusion.

You wanted to believe Ethan was innocent. You really, really did.

It was easier than believing you had slept with a killer. Or potentially worse, that you had feelings for one.

Ethan gave you a slight, assuring smile.

Your head told you one thing, but your heart told you another.

Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you kept your mouth shut and gave him one back.

#quin-ns writing #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry smut

1K notes · View notes

lalacliffthorne · 8 months

Text

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto one of the two very comfortable couches, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there's still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished the tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously wide shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, with dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos scattered over them, some peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a couple of days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them pretty easily

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and making you help him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet

cheek kisses as greetings

and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

and pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

and always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but still, don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

he works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then that one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

and it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of or behind you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you're upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from inner organs and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned out for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time instead of just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater -

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum Saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper-hissing fun facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

Azriel is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

you quickly realise that beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

he reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the man has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

he captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swimming and laying in the sun

have game nights

evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

and afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

or get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he cracks a grin

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

1K notes · View notes

tastesousweet · 5 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#this took way too long #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #tattoo matt n yn

675 notes · View notes

neostrayteez · 1 year

Text

DANCE ALL DAY

PAIRING. jung wooyoung x female reader

WORD COUNT. 6.4k

SUMMARY. you couldn’t have asked for a better roommate than Wooyoung. until he asks you to stop bringing guys over.

WARNINGS. smut, profanity, brief alcohol use

PLAYLIST. “say so” by doja cat

LIKE IT LOVE IT NEED IT BAD TAKE IT OWN IT STEAL IT FAST

Sharing an apartment with a guy that was not your boyfriend always got you some weird looks, but you wouldn’t trade having Wooyoung as your roommate for anything.

That changed last night.

You had a bit of a system when it came to boys and it was foolproof. Your commitment issues and daddy issues banded together to make you totally undateable and so, you were sticking with the casual thing.

Which was a nice way of saying you were in a friends with benefits situation.

Up until now, it hadn’t been an issue. You mastered a balancing act of three guys - each of them a friend you trusted implicitly with your body and very rarely your need for affection. When you had an itch that needed scratching, you called up whichever boy was available and sent him home with a kiss after.

You weren’t noisy; you were very discreet. You never paraded your booty calls around your roommate. None of them stayed for breakfast or dinner.

And that was why you were stunned when Wooyoung asked, “Can you please stop bringing guys over?”

You blinked and immediately assumed the worst. “I’m sorry. Did one of them say something to you?”

Though given detailed instructions on how to behave when in your shared apartment, it would be just like San to say something snarky on his way out. Even Hongjoong wouldn’t pass up a chance to let your roomie know you were getting railed. Only in Seonghwa did you trust. He wouldn’t utter a word about what happened in your bedroom.

“No,” Wooyoung said, and you breathed out in relief. “It’s just… I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

You sidled closer to him on the sofa and put a comforting hand on his arm, insisting, “No, this is your space, too. I won’t bring anyone into it if you’re uncomfortable.”

Wooyoung could barely look at you, which was definitely out of the ordinary. He glanced down at your hand on his arm like it unnerved him and that made you feel horribly out of place. Usually, you and Wooyoung were touchy with each other, like inseparable besties as well as roommates.

Most evenings consisted of you molded to him on the couch in front of the television, his arm around you and his hand on your waist or hip. Both of you were cuddly. There was nothing wrong with that.

Or so you had been led to believe.

“I’m uncomfortable,” Wooyoung said, making you worry even more.

“Oh. Okay.”

Wooyoung apologized again and quickly retreated to his room.

To say you were miffed would be an understatement. You cared deeply about Wooyoung. He was a great roommate and an even better friend, and you weren’t ready to lose him.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, you took out your phone and messaged each of your hookups and asked, Did you say something to my roommate the last time you were here?

No, was - thank goodness - the unanimous answer.

San, however, was the only one to ask, Why?

You knew better than to respond, because San would find a way to tease you for this. He was playful by nature and loved to get a rise out of you any way he could. He also had some rivalry with your roommate. They played the same sports, were in the same dance club, and had mutual friends on campus.

You couldn’t help yourself. San was unfortunately very easy to talk to and you were at a loss when it came to Wooyoung.

He doesn’t want me having sex in the apartment anymore, you replied.

San responded with a bunch of laughing emojis.

You frowned. For once, couldn’t he take things seriously? It’s not funny, you texted rapidly. He says he’s uncomfortable.

Yeah. Uncomfortable that he’s not the one giving you dick.

Your jaw dropped and you exclaimed aloud to an empty room, “What?!”

You called San and he picked up after the first ring, chuckling as he said, “You really didn’t know?”

“You’re serious?” You lowered your voice, mindful of your roommate in the next room. “Wooyoung is into me?”

“God, you’re dense. I don’t haul ass out of your apartment because I want to get away from you - I’m trying to avoid getting murdered by your roomie!”

You slumped back against the couch, shaking your head. Of all the bullshit, this was the one you didn’t anticipate. Wooyoung never hit on you. Not once. Sure, he flirted with you and you flirted back. It was harmless. If he had ever made a romantic move on you, you would have stopped it, but he didn’t.

“I really don’t know what to do with this information,” you whined, rubbing your brow.

San replied without missing a beat, “Bone him.”

“San…”

“It will break the spell! You’re this beautiful girl that doesn’t hide that she likes sex. He’s got you up like an angel on a pedestal. If he actually gets to touch you for once, maybe he’ll chill the fuck out.”

“Or it will completely fuck up our roommate dynamic,” you shot back. Running a hand through your hair, your imagination immediately went to images of Wooyoung. Having sex with him had crossed your mind before. Intrusive thoughts, but mostly just plain curiosity.

He was handsome. Duh. And that gorgeous smile? Whew. Naturally, you never voiced either of these opinions, because Wooyoung’s ego already struggled to fit into the apartment.

Rustling in the background brought you back to the phone call. It sounded like San was at the gym, as to be expected for someone with his physique. Wooyoung hit the gym a lot too. Lately, you noticed its effects on his arms and shoulders, leading to more intrusive thoughts you stifled down.

“Maybe,” San said in a cute voice. “You won’t know until you try.”

You pursed your lips. “I keep forgetting you get off to me fucking other people.”

San laughed loudly at that. “Do it or don’t do it. I’ll still come running when you call me.”

“Good to know. Bye, San.”

San, the little shit, had ruined your entire evening. You avoided Wooyoung like the plague, because you didn’t know what in the actual hell you were supposed to do now.

Talking to him would be the first step, obviously, but where would you even start?

You decided to get a second opinion, hoping this one would settle all of your doubts.

Hongjoong answered your call with a low, “What’s good?”

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Okay?”

You whispered, “Does Wooyoung like me?”

There was a short pause followed by Hongjoong giggling.

“Joong!”

“Calm your perfect tits,” he chided playfully, then his tone took a dive. “But leave me the fuck out of it.”

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t say anything?!”

“What did you want me to say exactly? ‘Hey, your roommate is jacking off to us fucking.’ It would have killed the mood.”

“Not in San’s case,” you deadpanned.

Hongjoong chuckled.

You smiled at the sound of his laughter, but your lips slowly lowered into a frown. You sighed. “I guess I have to talk to him.”

“I guess you do.”

Hongjoong, of course, was no help, but this did mean that two out of three boys confirmed Wooyoung liked you as more than a friend. But you needed more than that. You needed more than reassurance.

You needed someone to tell you what to do. Matters of the heart were a foreign language to you.

That left Seonghwa, the feelings expert.

“Just talk to him,” he said sweetly, but with urging. “You know him. You’ve been living together how long?”

“Over a year.”

“Exactly.”

You glanced at the clock. You’d been on the phone with Seonghwa for almost an hour.

“Done stalling yet?” Seonghwa teased. He knew you too well.

You nodded, looking at a strip of pictures of you and Wooyoung taken in a photo booth last summer. “Almost.”

Seonghwa snickered.

“Thanks, Hwa.”

“Do you love him?”

You sucked in a breath like he just socked you in the stomach. “That’s a strong word.”

“As a friend?”

You chewed on your lip, glancing down at the photos again. “Yeah, I love him. He’s my guy.”

Wooyoung was the first person you saw in the morning and the last person you saw at night. He was always willing to study with you for hours on end, pulled his own weight in keeping the apartment tidy no matter how much he despised cleaning and complimented whatever you cooked. Even the food you burnt to an accidental crisp.

He made you laugh till you cried, cried freely with you during sad movies, and covered you tenderly with a blanket when you fell asleep on the couch. There were a few times you crashed at the dining table, your head on an open textbook and your neck at a very uncomfortable angle, but you woke up the next morning in your bed, because Wooyoung had carried you to your room and tucked you in.

Your roommate never overstepped your boundaries or made you feel like you owed him in any way. He was just there - always; a steady, reliable presence in your chaotic life.

The more you sat and thought about him, the more you accepted how much love you had for Wooyoung.

“I think you answered your own question,” Seonghwa said and you could tell by his tone he was smiling.

You thanked him again and said goodbye, wallowing in the silence and your conflicted feelings, and weighing your options. And what you decided to do next.

In the evening, when Wooyoung came home, his hair still damp from a shower after soccer practice, he immediately let out a loud approving sound. “What is she cooking?” your roommate exclaimed, practically kicking off his shoes.

You grinned from ear to ear. “Get in here and find out!”

Wooyoung hung up his things before rushing into the kitchen, eyes darting toward the crackling on the stove. “Fried rice?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You held out a spoonful to him, hovering your hand underneath to catch any falling pieces, and shoveled it into his mouth.

“Mm!” Wooyoung was dramatic as always, making a bunch of noises and smacking his lips together. Though, in his defense, it was very good. “Delicious!”

“And lots of side dishes,” you said, pointing at the collection of bowls on the counter full of seasoned vegetables and the like. “I know how you get after practice.”

“Like a bottomless pit,” Wooyoung quipped as his stomach rumbled, leaving the kitchen to set the table in the living room in front of the television.

As you ate together, you asked about his day and he asked about yours. You both spoke casually about upcoming assignments and exams, then switched to spring break which was looming.

All the while, you caught yourself staring at Wooyoung. You were waiting to see that look in his eyes - the unmistakable sign a boy was into you. But all you saw was affection. Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled like stars whenever he looked at you, but that was what you had come to expect from him.

He always looked at the world around him like it was one big playground for him to explore and conquer.

And in that moment, you realized you wanted your body to be added to that list.

After clearing the table, bellies full, you set out two glasses and filled them with red wine.

Wooyoung watched you top off his glass and joked, “Trying to get me drunk?”

You snorted. “Me first.”

That had his attention. “Oh?” Wooyoung took a sip. “What’s bothering you?”

Feeling his eyes on you, you gulped down some of the wine and asked, “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

You propped your head on your hand, studying him. In the past day, you had become hyper aware of Wooyoung, desperate to know if he felt something for you before you made a fool of yourself.

He watched you with that same adorable smile, an extra twinkle in his eyes courtesy of the soft buzz setting in from wine. But hadn’t he always looked at you like that?

Yes.

Wooyoung mirrored you, holding his head on his hand, making you smile bashfully.

You took a breath and finally said, “Why don’t you want me bringing guys over anymore?”

Your roommate frowned and his pretty smile dropped, every feature of his face shifting to fear like a spooked animal. He sat up and fiddled with his glass. “I told you. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Can you hear us? I’ve always been careful to be quiet and not disturb you.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I can hear a little bit, but…” he trailed off.

“But?”

Wooyoung turned to you sharply. “Do you like those guys?”

You shrugged. “They’re my friends. I like having sex with them. I trust them.”

Blunt and to the point. Wooyoung always respected that about you, but it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “Why don’t you date them?” he pressed.

You pretended to wince and said, “Sorry, Woo. Only my therapist is welcome on that conversation.”

Wooyoung was flustered and lowered his head to hide it. He so badly wanted to understand you. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

Your first instinct was to comfort him, but you couldn’t understand why this was difficult for him to talk about. Wooyoung had always been open and fearless about everything. Why did that stop with you?

“I feel like I’ve made things awkward between us now,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Yeah, you thought, but you didn’t voice that because you didn’t want it to be true. You decided your friendship with Wooyoung was far more important than getting laid and you would make arrangements not to fool around in the apartment anymore.

But that wouldn’t solve the real issue. If Wooyoung liked you, as your trio of fuck boys were certain he did, things would only fester.

“Answer me one thing and answer honestly.”

Wooyoung nodded. “Okay.”

“If me bringing guys into our apartment bothers you, I won’t do it anymore. I’ll respect your space.”

Wooyoung thanked you.

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger to let him know you weren’t finished. “If you want me to stop bringing them over because you’re jealous I’m having sex, then we need to talk about it.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened and he became understandably defensive. “I’m not jealous. I hook up with people, too!”

“Alright then.”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

Wooyoung scratched the back of his head. He wanted to be honest. It was in his nature, but he regretted the words the moment they left his big mouth. “When you’re with them, I know what you’re doing. I’m not an idiot. And… it turns me on.”

You made a face. Damn you, Choi San.

It was just about the sex. There were no deeply rooted feelings. Wooyoung was just a boy and you were just a girl, and knowing you were getting fucked aroused him. It was basic biology.

“You could always ask to join in, you know,” you said dryly, hoping it would put him at ease.

Wooyoung did the last thing you expected - he visibly bristled. The idea infuriated him. His brows stitched and his nostrils flared as he snapped, “No. Hell no. I would never share you. I wouldn’t let any man touch you but me.”

Your lips parted. Damn it. You were wrong. The fuck boys were right, after all.

Wooyoung realized what he’d done - what he admitted to you - you, his best friend, his roommate and his unrequited crush. A secret he had successfully hidden for months and just spilled all over you.

“I… fuck!” Wooyoung stammered, knowing damn well there was no recovering from this humiliation. “I’m so fucked now. Aren’t I?”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Only if you want to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stood up slowly and told him, “I’m going to my room now. Do you want to come with me?”

Wooyoung stared up at you in disbelief and there was a cute crack in his voice when he said, “To your room?”

“Yes.”

Your roommate was on his feet in the time it took you to blink.

You grabbed him by the hand and led Wooyoung with you into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You stopped at the foot of your bed and turned around, smoothing your hands up his chest and to his head, winding your fingers into his hair.

Wooyoung held onto your waist, his eyes glazed over like he couldn’t believe this was happening. He stared at your lips before scanning your face, searching for any sign of hesitation.

He found none.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, tipping your head back and closing your eyes.

Wooyoung met his lips to yours slowly, sending a pleasant heat rushing through your body.

You couldn’t help but smile. He kissed you gently and intimately, and tightened his arms around you to bring you flush against him. You hummed a little as you melted into the warmth of his body and deepened the kiss.

Wooyoung broke reluctantly from your lips to search your face again, hoping you liked kissing him as much as he liked kissing you, and smirked when he saw the daze in your eyes.

“Wow,” you said, looking at him hungrily. He had just opened a well deep inside you and you were ready to have it filled.

“Yeah.” Wooyoung swallowed the lump in his throat. The tension in his chest was almost painful, the ache his body had for you was even worse.

“Keep going.”

Wooyoung didn’t need to be told twice. This time, when he kissed you, it was scalding and heavy, causing a catch in his breath.

You held onto his arms as he moved forward, legs bumping into yours. When the backs of your knees felt the edge of the mattress, you fell back and took him with you.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung groaned before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You fisted a hand in his hair and hooked your legs around his hips. That got Wooyoung’s attention, because he grunted and pressed himself against your clothed sex in a heat-seeking thrust.

“You wanna get naked?” you asked, nibbling at his lips.

Wooyoung chuckled. “Is that a trick question?”

You batted your lashes at him coyly. “I’m just following your lead.”

With a shake of his head (because he still hadn’t accepted you were actually beneath him), Wooyoung sat up, your legs still wrapped his waist, and stripped off his shirt.

You helped him get it over his head and immediately brushed your hands over his toned chest and abs. He was hard to the touch, and hot as hell. Like he carried the sun inside him. It would make sense, considering the way his smile always lit up the room.

Wooyoung snickered as your hands bumped into his, hurriedly trying to undress each other, stealing kisses in between. You shimmied his jeans down his legs and Wooyoung lost his balance, landing on you. He distracted you from teasing him for it by slotting his lips back to yours, swallowing your laughter.

Dragging your fingertips down his back, you hummed into his mouth, trying not to think about how crazed he made you, how badly you wanted him to touch you until he’d felt every inch of you. Wooyoung was trying and failing not to think about your breasts against his chest, but the brush of your perked nipples on his skin made him buck his hips into you.

You gasped for breath when Wooyoung trailed wet kisses down your neck, finding a sensitive spot to suck and bruise. You rocked into him, feeling his clothed cock rubbing against your sex, and whimpered. Your pulse was out of control, thundering through your body. You wondered if he could hear it.

The little noises you made as he nibbled at your neck and palmed over your breasts, teasing your nipples, had Wooyoung endlessly swearing. Fuck’s sake, every single thing she does is so fucking pretty.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wooyoung purred in your ear, smashing his lips on yours before you could answer with a kiss that made your heart stop altogether.

You were running out of patience at breakneck speed. You wanted him inside you then and there before you lost your mind. If he only knew that you were aching for him, but you were too busy kissing him to admit it. Instead, you drifted your hands down his body and grabbed at his cock.

Wooyoung finally tore himself away from you to strip out of his boxers. You licked your lips the moment his hard cock slipped free and got on hands and knees, reaching for his dick and fisting the head.

“Shit,” Wooyoung whined, staggering out a moan. You’d wasted no time and leaned forward, steering his cock into your mouth and sealing your lips around it.

Don’t come, Wooyoung told himself. Repeatedly. But it was probably in vain. The girl he liked since the moment he met her - you - who was always in the room beside his, but felt like worlds away, was touching him.

And not just touching, but sucking the soul out of him.

Wooyoung said your name shakily, getting a handful of your hair and pushing on your head in an attempt to slow you down, because fucking hell, you were relentless. You chuckled, sending vibrations down his cock and to every corner of his body and kept bobbing, taking him deeper into your throat.

“Oh, fuck. Baby, please,” Wooyoung cried, knees buckling and thighs trembling. At this point, he didn’t care how much noise he made. You deserved to hear every damn note.

You worked him up with your saliva, using your tight fist at the base of him while your mouth focused on the head. You watched the lines of his abs flex with restraint and his rapid breaths. Next on your to-do list would be leaving hickies all along his chiseled stomach and chest. You wanted to mark up his perfect skin and see what other sounds you could get out of him for it.

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. His hips thrust forward no matter how badly he fought it, shoving his cock further into your throat. A wet choking noise was his reward and it made his dick twitch with arousal. Your roommate quickly looked down to see if he’d gone too far, but instead, he saw you staring up at him, sinking toward him until you had swallowed every last inch of his cock, gagging loudly and making tears glisten in your eyes.

Fuck.

Wooyoung tipped his head back, lips parted with pleasure, and moaned at the top of his lungs. His eyes rolled. All the blood in his body rushed to his cock. He felt light-headed and shaky, imagining you sucking every drop of cum out of his dick until he was spent.

“Damn it,” he whined, both hands in your hair now. He held on tight, matching your pace and slowly thrusting into your mouth. His moans pitched higher with desperation. “I’m gonna come,” Wooyoung warned, panting, chest heaving, pleading your name to either finish him or have some mercy.

He would get neither for now. You pulled away from his cock with a wet pop, rocking back onto your knees, his fingers falling out of your hair. Wooyoung looked at you worriedly, his face flushed with heat and an adorable red staining his cheeks, and swallowed to wet his throat.

Tantalizing slow, you laid back, propping on your elbows and spreading your legs apart. “Condoms are in the top drawer,” you said offhandedly, cocking your head toward the nightstand beside your bed.

Wooyoung’s eyes were on your folds, his mouth watering at how they glistened with need. Blowing him did that to you? I’m screwed, he thought.

You were more than ready for him to fuck you and you weren’t sure you could make it any more obvious than holding your thighs wide open for him, but when Wooyoung suddenly dropped to his knees at the end of the bed and buried his face in your cunt, you cried out in surprise.

Pleasant surprise, that is.

Oh, fuck, you thought, biting your lip to keep from saying it like a mantra. Your head fell back and your eyes winched closed, a moan escaping on your exhale.

Wooyoung got your legs on his shoulders, his hands anchored to your hips, and found your clit with his tongue. He wanted to drop comments about how wet you were and another comment about how good you tasted. Both of them very horny and lewd, of course. But Wooyoung would have to take his tongue out of your pussy to speak and that just wasn’t worth it.

You started squirming and Wooyoung knew he was on the right track. Your hands flew to his head and your fingers winding into his hair tightly made a groan rumble in his chest. He wanted you to pull his hair as hard as you could, right on the edge of being painful.

A hungry, persistent suck of your clit did just that. You arched on the mattress, your body bowing at the pleasure between your legs and you tugged on Wooyoung’s hair at the roots, making him break from your sweet cunt to let out a loud raspy moan, sneaking an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh before diving back in.

“Shit. Shit. Fuck,” you cried, writhing beneath him, squirming in his arms. Wooyoung was finally using a little pressure to keep you in place and you were suddenly very aware of how much stronger he was than you.

Wooyoung could feel his cock twitching. Your sex was overloading every one of his senses, making his cock so hard he began thrusting his hips, trying to find some friction. He loved that you were trying to escape him; it meant the pleasure was almost too much. Kinda like when his dick was lost in your throat.

We’re even now, he thought with a grin.

You turned on your side and Wooyoung let you, latching onto your clit, out to ruin you for anyone else. Your body tensed, coiling and coiling, about to snap. Your breaths were loud, your chest heaving with them. Clamping your thighs on Wooyoung’s head - much to his delight - your voice cracked when you said, “I’m coming. Wooyoung, I’m coming.”

Wooyoung reeled his hand back and landed a palm on your ass, sending a loud smack through the room and a vicious sting across your skin. And it finished you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you moaned his name, shuddering with orgasm. Wooyoung kept toying with your clit, his lips wet and warm, and you thrashed in his arms.

“Stop! Please,” you begged, yanking on his hair.

Which only turned Wooyoung on more, but he obeyed. He parted reluctantly from your pussy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared down at his handiwork, having felt your sex gushing and clenching with release.

“Goddamn, baby,” Wooyoung said with a growl, giving your ass another slap. Before the night was out, he was going to make your body want him and him only.

You blinked to clear the fog in your eyes, still panting harshly. Hongjoong was an expert at eating pussy, but Wooyoung was going to give him a run for his money at this rate.

“Put a condom on,” you said bluntly.

Wooyoung rushed over to the nightstand, cursing himself for looking so eager. He grabbed a packet from the drawer and ripped it open with his teeth.

You followed his every move with your eyes, salivating over that stiff cock curving toward his abs. Your walls were still pulsing from the orgasm he’d given you and you shamelessly wanted to fuck his brains out in retaliation.

As Wooyoung finished fitting the condom on his length, you pulled him onto the bed by his shoulders and straddled his lap. Your roommate grinned, getting off to how badly you wanted him, and held onto your waist for dear life.

Rising up, you steered his cock into your entrance and starting sinking down on him. You were so wet with release, he slid in easily at first, but the fit was tight and made Wooyoung moan with his whole chest.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, lifting up and down, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him. You underestimated just how big he was and sucked in a breath when his cock rubbed against your sweet spot.

Wooyoung took your reaction to mean you were in pain. “Slow down,” he whispered, running his palms over your sides and breasts to soothe you. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I want it,” you said breathlessly, working your pussy on his length until he was finally sheathed inside.

Wooyoung wondered if you wanted the other boys this badly. Did you talk like that to them too? Did you take them as eagerly as you took him? Did you have that same euphoric look on your face when they were inside you?

But he dared not ask. He was too afraid of the answer. If you said yes, then Wooyoung was just another boy to you. If you said no, then he was different. Maybe even special.

The last thing he needed was hope that you returned his feelings.

Wooyoung exhaled loudly, releasing the breath he’d been holding, and let his hands fall to your hips. He grinded his teeth and felt his lashes fluttering, his eyes wanting to roll back in his head at the hot vice of your perfect cunt.

He was definitely ready to square up with the other boys if they came knocking at your door again.

You hummed at how full you felt and rocked your hips a little, making a tiny circle. Combing your hair out of your face, you glanced down and locked eyes with Wooyoung.

There was no word that could describe how he was looking at you. It surpassed lust and worship and landed closer to nirvana.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled, but everything in your face and in your voice screamed that you didn’t mean it. You wanted him to only look at you that way for the rest of your life.

“Like what?”

“Like this is the best pussy you’ve ever had.”

“Well…,” Wooyoung said, lips spreading into a grin. “You’re not wrong.”

You snickered.

Wooyoung softened and reached for you, cradling your face in his hands and gently pulling you down until you were chest to chest and pressing your lips to his. You propped yourself over him and sucked on his tongue in your mouth, tasting your release.

Mm. This was a little too good.

Wooyoung broke from your lips and ran his thumb affectionately over your cheek. Then he trailed his hands down your back and got a hard grip on your hips, and said, “Fuck me.”

You fully intended to. Sitting back up, you braced your hands on his abs and started to ride him. The rest of the world faded away. There was only you and Wooyoung and the pleasure you took from each other’s bodies.

Every time you wondered if you were going too hard or too slow, or if your pace wasn’t making him feel good, you peered down at Wooyoung and saw only lust. His hands on your hips kept you steady, kneading you almost in reassurance.

Ironically, Wooyoung was grateful for the condom. It kept him from blowing early. A grunt left his lips now every time you dropped back down on him, using his cock to stroke yourself to another orgasm. Sweat cast a pretty sheen on your skin.

“I can’t,” you whined, grinding yourself on him. “I’m so close, baby. I need you.”

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, rolling over with you underneath him. He slapped his hips into yours, thrusting hard and deep in your slick cunt, and buried his face in your neck.

He would get you the rest of the way if it was the last thing he did.

You wanted to chant his name, but no sound came out. Instead, you dragged your nails down his spine and found purchase in his hips. Wooyoung didn’t slow down as he reached for your hands, pinning your arms to your sides and gloving his cock in your pussy at a desperate pace.

The weight of him on top of you sank you deeper into the mattress. He was all you could feel, taste and smell. Your bodies were damp with sweat, his and yours mixing, and a wet slap echoed through the room each time he drove inside you.

Every stroke of his cock made you more and more crazy and restless, drunk on him. “You feel so good,” you whispered, grazing your teeth over the curve of his shoulder. “You’re so deep. I want to come with you. Please. Wooyoung…”

Wooyoung let out a pained groan muffled against your neck. He couldn’t remember the last time he fucked a girl this hard. If ever. And you were eating it up, that wet pussy sucking him in and clenching when he was balls deep. Her body loves me, was all he could think.

If only your heart would follow.

Wooyoung lifted his head and, crumbling at the pleasure on your face, crashed his lips on yours, flicking his tongue in your mouth and kissing you hurriedly. You couldn’t really kiss him back - you were too busy panting - and Wooyoung inhaled every sound you made, branding them into his mind forever.

Because he knew this could be the first and last time he would get to touch you.

So, Wooyoung kept stroking you to the edge, never letting up for a second, his pace fast and his thrusts hard, perfectly rough. You bounced your hips to meet him, hooking your legs on his, your toes curling as your walls kneaded his cock.

“Come for me,” Wooyoung hissed, pinning you to the bed. “Love me.”

You met his eyes, opened your mouth to answer, and lost yourself to the force of his body, screaming his name. It was more intense than the first, making your vision blur and your ears ring.

The moment Wooyoung felt you clamp down on his cock, he swore in his mother tongue and his pace turned ragged as he started releasing into the condom, moaning endlessly through his pleasure. He worked both of you through the aftershocks, letting your walls milk every last drop out of him.

He was so fucking loud and noisy. You loved it.

With one more satisfied groan, Wooyoung collapsed beside you. Other than both of you gasping for breath, the room was eerily quiet, filling with a stiff heaviness.

Post-nut clarity. Right on time.

Wooyoung got to his feet, disposing of the condom. His legs felt boneless, wobbly even. He scratched the back of his head, thinking about how hard he came. How hard you came.

You stared blankly, still reeling. Sex with your roommate was not supposed to be that good. You were only going to fuck him to break the spell like San suggested and instead, you were drowning in just how good your body felt after he touched it.

Sex with San was fun, but not like this. Sex with Hongjoong was vicious, but not like this. Sex with Seonghwa was passionate, but not like this.

No one had ever made you feel like you did at that moment.

When you looked at Wooyoung, from his soft cock to the pretty flush on his cheeks to the bulging veins in his arms, you instinctively spread your thighs a little. You wanted him again and again. Your body was begging for it.

To your relief, Wooyoung joined you on the bed, flopping onto his back at your side, though there was an obvious tiny gap between your bodies.

“Wow,” you said, winded.

Wooyoung shot you an amused look, crooking his brow. “Surprised?”

“A little.”

He chuckled.

Once you caught your breath, you staggered into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you were suddenly mindful that you were naked and considered covering yourself.

Had the spell been broken? Was Wooyoung done with you after he’d finally gotten what he wanted?

Love me.

You remembered Wooyoung said that. You almost missed it on the edge of your orgasm, but it hadn’t been a dream. Wooyoung had whispered, “Love me,” into your open mouth.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Wooyoung, and it took you a moment to realize you were looking at him affectionately. Seeing he hadn’t bothered dressing, you decided not to either.

Wooyoung turned to you, feeling your attention on him, and propped his head on his hand. You could tell he was studying you as he always did, reading you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

“Are we… okay?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“I, um,” you hesitated, biting at your lip like you always did when you were nervous. And being vulnerable. “I’m not really used to having someone stay after.”

Wooyoung knew that. The boys got kicked out pretty quickly once you were done. He smiled softly and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

You blinked. It surprised you that everything inside you screamed for him to stay. That was a strange feeling for you, to say the least.

“I can go to my room,” he said playfully, sitting up and moving to the edge of your bed. “But if I’m being honest, I really wanna cuddle the living shit out of you right now.”

You fought a laugh, but it showed on your face. You walked over to your roommate, stood between his legs, and braced a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart underneath. You liked how it felt.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said, “I don’t want you to go. Stay. Please.”

Wooyoung was over the moon, landing somewhere between the stars. That was what he hoped you would say more than anything. He put his hand over yours on his chest. “Did you think I’d be over you if you slept with me?”

You nodded.

Wooyoung shook his head. “Nah, baby. I’m even deeper now,” he whispered, drawing you into his arms with a mischievous grin.

You smiled, cradling his head in your hands, and kissed him.

Your roommate pulled you onto the bed, molding himself to your back and managing to drape a blanket over your naked bodies. You decided to turn over and face him, smiling when his arm tightened around your waist.

“This is nice,” Wooyoung said, leaving a sweet kiss on your brow before closing his eyes contentedly.

“Yeah.” You snuggled deeper into his warm chest and tucked your head beneath his chin. “It is.”

END.

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut

2K notes · View notes

ham-st4r · 1 year

Text

𝓛𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓻𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝔂 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

🧺Pairing: heeseung + female reader🧺

Warnings: male masturbation, cursing, dirty talk, cum eating.

Genre: smut, roommates, smut without plot. Not happy with the way this turned out :/

Summary: it wasn’t every day you caught your roommate pleasuring himself, and well, the sight wasn’t exactly easy to look away from, not to say he wanted you to anyway.

Number of words: 1.9k

Find your way around!

Hi, thank you so much for showing interest in my works. I’ve already surpassed 500 likes! Also, I decided to write smut instead of fluff this time. I hope it turned out okay, enjoy!

There are a million ways your day could have gone, but somehow out of all those ways, it ended with you standing outside your roommate's door with his cum stained underwear in the palm of your hand.

You're probably wondering what the fuck, right?

Yeah, I know me too, so let's take it from the tippy top,

shall we?

Ahem!

Before the incident…

You had gotten home a bit earlier than usual it was a slow day at the sandwich shop you worked at, and your manager let you take an early leave.

Normally you would have stayed the entire shift, but then you remembered you had some chores to get done, so you took him up on his offer.

After walking the short distance to your shared apartment, you unlocked the door and immediately hung up your coat, and took your shoes off.

You decided to go ahead and get started with the laundry first so you could relax a bit while the clothes were washing. After gathering up all your items, you headed towards your roommate's door. It wasn't unusual that you'd wash his clothes as well. You both took turns with things like laundry, washing dishes, and cleaning up.

It was just an unspoken thing you and him started when you first moved in together.

Carrying the clothes basket on your hip, you knocked softly on his door, looking up confused as you heard a tiny creak and saw the door swinging open.

You could have sworn the door was closed.

However

It wasn't

And you definitely were not expecting to see what you saw.

Heeseung, your roommate, took this perfect opportunity to relieve himself of some pent-up frustration, and what better way to do that than by giving himself a much-needed orgasm? He'd been too busy with his studies and a part-time job that he didn't have much time to get around like he used to, but finally, he had some free time, and luckily, you were at work for another two hours, so he had the apartment all to himself.

At first, he hated the idea of sharing an apartment cause. Obviously, he wanted to be able to do whatever he wanted freely without having to consider anyone else, but that all quickly went out the window when he saw you.

He remembered the day you moved in with him like it was yesterday. It was nearly ninety degrees outside, and you were wearing the shortest of shorts and a white top that was see-through, and since you were sweating while struggling to move all your stuff in, the thin material clung to your body, showing every last dip and curve which left nothing to his wild imagination.

Of course, being the gentleman he is, he helped you with your boxes, and he also shamelessly eyed you up and down the whole time.

It was probably all in his head, but every time you went to grab more stuff from the trunk of your car, it was as if you were intentionally sticking your ass out just for him.

And god, just the thought of you could have him riled up in seconds, but in his defense, he hadn't had any in months.

As soon as he found out it was you he'd be sharing a living space with, he was happy, to say the least, because who wouldn't want to share an apartment with the hottest girl to walk the earth? To him, anyways.

Since that day, not a second went by, where he didn't think about how cute you looked in your pajama set or how amazing you looked in the morning and especially right before work when you tied your hair in a messy bun. That look was definitely his favorite.

When he caught a glimpse of you leaving for work today, it was impossible for him to contain all the lewd thoughts he had about you, the things he would give to have your soft tiny hands around his cock and to feel your sweet pussy sucking him into your wet walls.

And right now was no different as he stripped himself down to nothing but his grey boxers and relaxed in his gaming chair, palming over his tent that had formed just from thinking of you.

Before he met you, he'd pull up some random adult videos on his computer, but since he laid eyes on you, literally no girl had his interest, and with his vivid imagination, it didn't take long for him to fantasize about you being the one palming him over his underwear right now.

He teasingly rubbed his tip through the thin material, and a wet patch had already soiled the front of the fabric. From the first touch, he knew he wasn't going to last long. He impatiently pulled his hard dick out from the little hole in front of his boxers and stroked himself up and down slowly.

"Shit, that feels so good," he groaned at the contact, resting his head on his chair.

He focused on the tip with his left hand and used the other to massage his entire shaft twisting his wrist every now and then, abdomen tensing from the overwhelming stimulation.

He heard a quiet noise in the distance, but he paid no mind to it. You weren't coming home for hours, so he figured it was just something outside and continued to stroke his hard thick length.

But when he heard a loud gasp and the sound of something hitting the floor, that's when he stopped and opened his eyes to be met with a very wide-eyed you standing in his doorway.

You were too shocked to even move, let alone speak. How could you when you just caught your roommate jerking off with his door open? And on top of that, you kinda liked what you saw even though it was so wrong to think like that.

But now that your brain had fully registered just how wrong it was to watch him masturbating, you quickly covered your eyes, but only after staring for nearly a whole minute.

"I-I'm sorry I-I was just doing some laundry a-and you know uhh, never mind, I'll just come back later!" you laughed in the most awkward way possible, but before you could turn on your heels and leave him to his business. He spoke to you and stopped you right in your tracks.

"Or you could stay," He chuckled. "and isn't it a little bit too late for that? I mean, you've already seen everything," he looked down at his lap, grunting softly when he took his hard cock in his hand once again, pumping it very, very slowly.

Yeah, sure, it was too fucking late, but that didn't mean you had to stand there and watch that extremely beautiful sight any longer.

You felt like a creep.

But how the fuck was he so unfazed by you catching him in such a compromising position?

Why wasn't he yelling at you to get out?

And more importantly, why was he smirking when he saw you?

Truth be told, he really didn't mind you watching him get himself off. If anything, he was flattered, besides it's not like you were spying, so why not give you a little show to add even more excitement to his current situation.

"You must have liked what you saw, no? because it sure took you long enough to cover your eyes" he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, and there's no denying his dick got impossibly hard ever since you walked in. You'd think it would have been the opposite, but no, it wasn't. He was enjoying every last second of this.

Of course, you liked what you saw. How could you not drool at the sight of your very hot sexy beautiful handsome stunning gorgeous roommate pleasuring himself?

Impossible.

Still, you lied.

"N-no," you stuttered out.

"Oh? Well, maybe you should look again just to be sure, yeah?" he cocked his head to the side with a teasing smile on his face running his fingers along his shaft.

You were ashamed of how fast you dropped your hands from covering your eyes, but he was offering, so you couldn't say no, could you? I mean, maybe, but wouldn't that be rude?

Since you weren't a rude person, you accepted his suggestion, And it was just as surprising as the first time. You knew he was big cause you may or may not have eyed his print one too many times when he casually walked around in grey sweats, but to see it on full display like this was absolutely breathtaking.

He put one hand behind his head, smirking while he watched your eyes become darker with lust the longer you stared. "So? Is it still a no?"

What kind of fucking question is that? It was never a no, to begin with, and you were pretty sure he knew that. Any woman or man would be crazy not to appreciate such a beautiful cock.

"Y-yeah, I mean, no," You stammered over your words, clearly not able to coherently respond because you were too focused on what he was doing to himself. He just smiled at the effect has was having on you. "I like it," you clarified for him. He nearly let out a moan when the words breathlessly fell from your lips. His cock involuntarily twitched in his palm at the sound of your shy tone.

"Yeah?" He asked and added just a little bit of urgency to the movement of his hand. He was desperately trying to hold off cause there was no way he was going to put on a short show, not when he had such a beautiful audience.

You nodded and discreetly rubbed your thighs together from the almost painful throbbing between them.

"Stay" he ran his thumb over his slit spreading the precum on his shaft while watching every last expression you made. "Watch me cum for you," he said with a shaky breath.

You accidentally moaned, and as fast as your hands flew to your mouth, it was far too late to cover it up. He had already heard it loud and clear.

"Fuck y/n," he moaned, and he literally never moaned, but something about the way you were watching him had him so riled up that he was doing things he'd never do, such as using his free hand to flick over his hardened nipples. "You like watching your roommate touch himself? He teased. "Hmm?" Does this get you off?" He grunted and fastened his pace, quickly getting impatient, but he couldn't control himself when it came to you.

You could only watch in silence save the sticky sounds of his palm colliding with his wet base and breathy moans.

His toes curled into the carpet beneath his feet, Head falling back, and his eyes rolling in the back of his head. "Oh god, fuck, y/n, you're gonna make me fucking cum” he moaned out, and it was the hottest thing ever to hear him moaning your name so breathless and whiny.

This time you didn't even try to hold back your whimpers and moans. You couldn't help but imagine how good he'd feel inside of you.

A gush of wetness stained your panties at the thought, but you couldn't care less; besides, you were doing the laundry later anyway.

Your eyes were glued to him, tightly gripping his cock while he jerked himself off, faster and faster, quickly nearing his end. Unfiltered moans slipped past his lips as the first rope of hot cum spilled from his red tip. "Y/n, look at me, please look at me," his voice sounded so whiny and desperate. He hunched forward as more long strings of cum stained his carpet chair and boxers, but he couldn't be bothered with that right now.

You locked eyes with him fulfilling his request with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He looked even sexier, like this all sweaty chest heaving up and down and his face twisted in nothing but pure pleasure.

"Shit, that felt so fucking good" he let out a breathy chuckle, eyes still very much hazy and filled with lust while he rubbed out the rest of his high.

He dipped his two middle fingers in the puddle of cum on his stomach and held them to his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to clean his digits of his release, something else he had never done before, but he was so glad that he did when he saw how you bit your lip in the most suggestive manner ever and rubbed your thighs together.

He leaned back, catching his breath. Your eyes raked over his Adam's apple as he gulped.

A few beats of silence passed, before he stood up, letting his underwear fall at his ankles, He stepped out of them and made his way over to you.

You used every ounce of strength not to look down, but you failed so miserably.

"Sorry to keep you from your laundry," he whispered, and you felt his warm heavy breath fan across your face making you shiver as he handed you his underwear with a smirk on his face while purposely brushing his hand against yours.

You stood in place, frozen outside of his room. Even after he shut his door, you still didn't move one inch.

So yeah, that's basically the story of how you ended up with your roommate's cum stained underwear in your hand.

Pretty cool, right?

Well, one thing you knew for sure was after that, you were going to be doing something, but it definitely wasn't going to be the laundry.

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #kpop smut #fanfic #enhypen hard hours

1K notes · View notes

atinystraynstay · 2 months

Text

Double Take - Lee Chan

Synopsis: Dino was convinced dating was just swiping on a dating app, going out for a diner, and maybe getting further than that before being ghosted. It was just the perils of dating as a young adult. There was just something different about you though.

Pairing: Non-idol!Lee Chan x fem. reader

Genre: "her first everything" girl meets the "first nothing" boy

Inspired by @aaniag - thanks for tagging me in this post ♡

First Encounters Mini Series: #1: #2: #3: #4: Wonwoo #5: Jeonghan #6: #7: #8: Dino

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: does contain descriptions of anxiety - please make sure you are taking care of your mind, body, and soul. If you ever need someone to vent to, my DMs are always a safe space 🩷

Dating in your 20s is not as glamorous as they make it seem in the movies. First dates sometimes flourished into second dates but quickly fizzled out. Or it sometimes was someone you were interested in that just turned into a one night stand.

While sure, there times that Dino wished he had a more solid connection with someone. But he was in no rush to settle down and get married.

Going to college helped Dino not only helped him find his passions in life but also found confidence in himself.

Maybe that was one positive to come out of dating apps? It made Dino feel good when he could swipe on someone and it was an instant match. He hated the moments where he would swipe on someone he found attractive, but would be stuck waiting to see if there was a mutual attractive. And sometimes, he would forget about who he swiped on because there would no ping indicating they swiped on him.

He never thought of himself as the most attractive guy. Honestly, he thought was more average than anything else.

But the moment he found himself in the bed of someone, he felt more reassured in himself. The more that people wanted him, attempted to gain his attention, he felt better about who he was as a person. I mean, college is all about self growth anyways, right? Dino's learning just happened beyond the classroom.

"Trying to find another date?" Seungkwan teased. "More like he's trying to find someone to fuck since he's getting lonely at night," Jeonghan added in.

There were times Dino regretted signing a lease with Seungkwan and Jeonghan. This was one of those times. The two of them thought fondly of their younger roommate, so they often lurked over his shoulder.

"Oh! She's cute," Seungkwan commented.

Hearing his friend, his head turned and narrowed his eyes at the culprit. He suddenly moved his phone close to his chest to gain some sort of privacy. But that was a big ask in this house especially with how close the three friends were. Jeonghan, being the menace he is, moved his hand around to move the phone away from Dino's chest which caused Dino to jump.

"Can I never have anything to myself?" he whined. "She's normally not your type, but maybe we could use a change?" "We?!" Dino gasped.

The two guys laughed before they moved away from the younger boy to go elsewhere in the apartment. Now alone, Dino did take a moment to look at your pictures closer. There were a few photos just of you. He found himself smiling at the way your eyes nearly closed when you were smiling wide. You also had a few pictures with friends at different events.

His thumb then pushed upwards on his phone screen, so he could look deeper into your profile. I have to know who she is.

The first thing he noticed was your name, 'Y/n," he murmured under his breath. It rolled off this tongue so eloquently. He also noticed that you were only 2 miles away from him.

Part of him wanted to stop and just swipe. There was always an element of mystery that came to first dates. Dino's favorite part was when he got to ask questions, got to learn about the other person. Yet, there was something urging him to keep going. After all, looking over your profile could give good talking points.

What sold the deal was your bio - "looking to experience something new 👀"

Intrigued, Dino swiped right on your account. And automatically, fire emojis skyrocketed from the bottom of the app and covered the screen. It's a match! was written across the screen as it brought up your profile with the ability to message you now available.

His fingers typed at lightning speed. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face at the presented opportunity to get to know you.

"I've never done this before. Wanna grab dinner tonight?"

You were at home, binging the reunion of Love Is Blind with your roommates. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon which of course required getting snacks from the grocery store, doing face masks, and a bottle of wine. All of your phones were placed on the table to minimize distractions

While all your roommates and you had different schedules, binging reality TV seemed to be the way you were able to come together. Everyone's eyes were watching the confrontation between two of the contestants when suddenly all eyes shifted to the coffee table once someone's phone lit up.

Specifically, your phone.

"Oh my god, guys! Y/n matched with someone on Tinder," one of your roommates called out. "And they messaged her."

And just like that, Love is Blind was forgotten about. Your third roommate reached for the Amazon Fire Stick remote to pause the Netflix show. All eyes then flickered from the coffee table and you. Never before had you been glad for a face mask to cover your face to hide your rouging cheeks, knowing that will only result in further teasing.

"Relax, you hyenas," you called out. It was as if they were holding their breaths until you read the message.

You typed in your password since your Face ID was not able to recognizing your face with the sheet mask on. The extra stop practically caused your roommates to shake with anticipation. You couldn't deny. You shared the same excitement, as you have decided this year, you were intentionally investing more in dating.

It's not like you had chosen before to not date. It was just something that settled on the back burner. You had always hoped to meet someone more organically, like at the coffee shop or on public transportation. Something out of a Hallmark movie. But that's not how reality worked. When you did meet someone, it was always overwhelmingly flirty which made you instantly retreat from the situation.

Yet, you couldn't deny the happiness you saw from your own friends and roommates when it came to their dating life. Oddly, even if it were a bad date, you wanted to feel the rush of getting ready for someone. You knew that in order to date that would require you putting yourself out there and being vulnerable. Your own saving grace was knowing your morales and not falling victim to social pressures.

Even if it meant not matching with many people because you wanted to take things slow, you would be content as you search for your perfect person.

Dino sent you a message

And maybe that was Dino.

There was no denying the smile that curled onto your lips at the name. You found the name adoring, peaking your interest. Your clicked on the message to read it.

"I've never done this before. Wanna grab dinner tonight?"

Your eyes widened which caused your roommates to lean in closer. The two right by your side let out a gasp, as the other two were practically going to pounce on you. However, you were too preoccupied with looking through his profile.

It took everything within you to maintain your composure, even if you wanted to squeal and kick your feet at the potential date. There were a few photos taken when he's been out to dinner. One in particular that caught your eye was him in a black tee shirt with a silver chain around his neck. Hello big arms! He had a softer face with a sharp jawline. Something about him seemed so friendly, making you even more willing to take the leap of faith.

"Come on, y/n," your one roommate begged. "We want to take a peak on tonight's bachelor."

You rolled your eyes before giving in and showed them his profile. One by one, your phone was passed around. Yet, after each person, there was a wide smile which indicated a sign of approval from your roommates. They knew that it took someone special for you to say yes, but it seemed like Dino had unlocked it just by sending a simple message.

"So what's the verdict, y/n? Are you extending a rose to Dino?"

What can you say? You guys really do love reality TV shows.

Without responding, your fingers went to work on the keypad of the app.

"Yeah, that sounds great! What's your favorite type of food? You can pick the restaurant as long as you meet me there at 7pm."

6:55pm

Dino had a routine when it came to first dates. Of course, he would shower first. He then would pick out an outfit that looked good but also one that was comfortable. Sometimes, after sitting for a while, he disliked the way certain jeans felt and he didn't want to be too squirmy in the chair across from his date. But he didn't want to dress too casually that might give the impression he was putting in little effort into this date.

For tonight, he opted for a pair of baggy jeans, a white t-shirt, and a tri-color cardigan. It was approaching that time of year when it might be a bit warm when the sun comes out, but gets a bit chilly still when the sun sets. Plus, he suggested going to a Mexican restaurant in between the two of you, so he knew while it might be a laid back setting, that he still looked presentable.

He had driven to the restaurant, since taking public transportation would take a bit too long especially since the restaurant was not even 20 minutes away. It was still light out too, but he knew when it was dark, he also had the opportunity to drive you home in the event you opted not to drive.

With his wallet and keys in his pockets, he approached the front entrance of the restaurant. It was a bit crowded for a Sunday night, but honestly, Dino didn't mind either way. He was admittedly excited that he was going to go out with you. Before leaving, Jeonghan and Seungkwan hyped him up and warned "she seems like a good girl, don't scare her."

There, indeed, was something different about you. Dino just couldn't put a finger on it, but that also made this date exciting. He's never had this level of interest in someone before.

As he approached, he noticed you were standing up front waiting for him. He couldn't help but smile at the gesture but also pick up his pace, not wanting you to be left waiting for long. Your thumb double-tapped your home screen, showing the time. Your noticeably let out a sigh before picking up your head. With a slight turn of your head, you made direct eye contact with him.

Dino couldn't help but notice the way your shoulders relaxed. Was she nervous? That's adorable. He wouldn't be rude and comment on it. He was just meeting you after all, and he wouldn't be so mean to embarrass you. Talk about a bad first impression.

"Hey y/n," he said as he approached you. "And you must be Dino," you smiled.

Gosh, her voice sounds angelic.

He never knew of someone who's voice matched so well to who they are as a person, but that wasn't the case with you. You were dressed so elegantly. Nothing too outlandish - just a pair of jeans and a rainbow colored sweater that looked light enough to be worn in any type of climate. You looked cute and breathtaking at the same time. A real life angel.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," Dino apologized.

He reached behind you to open the front door, nodding his head for you to step in first. Your cheeks flushed quickly which caused Dino to smile brighter. "Thank you," you said before walking in. Dino let you take a few steps ahead of him before he joined in behind you. He kept a respectful distance, so you didn't feel uncomfortable but enough to indicate to any patron you two were together.

"Hi! I called earlier for dinner for two? The name is under Lee Chan."

The hostess nodded before looking down at the booklet, her finger acting as if it was guided to her name. Once she spotted his name, she grabbed the sharpie and crossed it out. She then proceeded to grab two menus before turning towards the two of you. "If you will follow me."

You glanced behind him with a wider smile this time. "You made reservations?" "Of course! I wanted to play it on the safe side."

It was such a tiny gesture but one that surely made your heart flutter. You never knew of anyone calling this particular restaurant for reservations, let alone anyone make reservations for the two of you. Knowing that Dino had been that thoughtful made you feel special. That had to be a tell-tale sign of the type of person he was. It just reassured you that this indeed was a good decision, even if it was spur of the moment.

You two were led to a booth along the wall. You were able to people watch if you desired, one of your favorite things to do. But it also offered enough privacy for the two of you to really get to know each other.

"M'lady," Dino said jokingly.

And he's funny! You giggled before accepting the menu from him. Being a bit nervous, you did look over the menu online before the date. You weren't trying to put too much weight on this date and all that it could potentially lead to. However, you still wanted things to go well.

"So? I gotta ask, is your name Dino or Chan? Or is there some secret third option?"

Dino couldn't help but laugh at your question. It was a fair question, and he knew that he would have to provide some context eventually. Lowering his menu, he wanted to be able to make eye contact with you. He didn't want to be rude!

"So, my full name is Lee Chan, but my friends call me Dino." "Dino," you said to yourself, smiling. "Why do they call you that?"

He smiled fondly at the memory of how he gained his nickname.

The menu was fully resting on the table, not only because he had made his dinner selection but because ehe was now fully invested in the conversation with you.

On the receiving end, the attention was a bit overwhelming. You were not so accustom to someone you were interested in making such direct eye contact with you. It only intensified the butterflies you felt in your tummy by his conscious choice of body language.

Yet, it wasn't something Dino just knew to be good manners. Plus, after one date when he looked all over the restaurant instead of just focusing on his date, he learned that's one way how you don't secure a second date.

"Well, believe it or not, y/n, I was a shy guy. Especially when I first was starting college? I could barely say hi without feeling nervous. But I guess as I experienced what it means to be in college, put myself out there, I started to gain more and more confidence. Eventually, my friends started to notice and said I was like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park, just bursting into the room and getting everyone's attention with my loud energy."

You nodded gently as you listened to him, smiling. You wanted him to keep talking to you, about himself. It helped take some of the pressure off of yourself, but you also were genuinely interested in Dino.

"Well, it is a very fitting nickname. Cute, I like it." "Cute like me?" Dino winked.

Immediately, your cheeks turned bright red as you tried hiding behind your menu. Dino couldn't help but chuckle more which only made you want to sink further into the booth, to hide. Was it a pitiful laugh or did he find it attractive?

God, what have I gotten myself into?

The waitress was your saving grace. You didn't have to come to some lame excuse or be subject to Dino's line of questioning quite yet. The waitress also coming around to take your order allowed the blood to subside from your cheeks. You wanted to try to be this cool and mysterious, to leave a good first impression. But honestly? You felt like a fish out of water. This was a brand new experience for you, and you were beginning to think you were too over your head.

Were you even ready to date? How does one even know if they are ready or need more time?

Once your orders were placed, Dino and you handed your menus to the waitress before she left you two alone. Here we go.

"So, y/n, tell me about yourself," Dino asked before taking a sip out of his water.

Okay! An easy question! Perfect.

You sat up a bit straighter in the booth, becoming a bit self conscious of your posture. At least from everything you've heard and seen about dates, even the tiniest things can make or break the date.

You told Dino about how you recently graduated college in the winter. Recently, you took the leap to move the city as your job was switching from remote to a hybrid model. You also needed the change of scenery, which has helped you want to put more roots down in the city.

Dino was impressed with your sheer perseverance. It's never easy to say goodbye to what you now and venture into the unknown, but you proved it was possible.

"Wow, that's really incredible. Good for you, y/n. I moved here with two of my best friends, so I cannot not imagine just making such a big move. Do you live alone?" "Oh no, I have like 5 roommates in our three floor apartment. It really helps." "So like a little family?" "Definitely feels like that sometimes," you laughed.

Truly, you held your roommates close to your heart. Not only did things work out for a good living situation, but they were the first friends you made in the city. They helped you through the homesickness you felt by letting you openly talk about life back home, or push for you to cook some of your favorite meals for them to try.

They also were big supporters in your venturing into dating. They offered many tips into how to date safely and allowed you to ask questions without judgement. They also were clearly very excited you took a chance of Dino rather than running in the opposite direction.

"So is that why you're on the dating apps? If you don't mind me asking, do you find yourself ready to date in a new palce?"

Well, he was half-right.

"Yeah, I think I'm ready to finally open myself up in that way. Moving and getting used to my surroundings really took a large chunk of my time." "No, that's completely understand. I've come to learn you need to be satisfied with yourself and other aspects of your life before being vulnerable with someone else because someone can really shake things up." "Well, for better and for worse."

He smiled at your optimism before nodding in agreement.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, when was your last relationship? It sounds like you have some past experience."

Dino couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't really at the question himself, but the experiences he has had with dating were a bit comical. You frowned a bit, worrying that you asked the same question. He quickly stopped though to offer a gentle smile.

"Sorry, it's not you. Some memories of past dates came flooding in," he explained.

Well, that's more than I have, so you couldn't wait to hear them. Maybe they were just as funny as some are on the sitcoms you liked to rewatch?

Yet, you couldn't help but wonder if your very limited experience would be a deal breaker.

"What about you though? If you don't mind me asking," Dino said, restating the exact words you said to him.

It was meant to be comforting, but it made you all the more nervous. I guess it was the moment of truth.

"If we're being honest, I haven't been in a serious relationship before."

As you spoke, your tone was softer than from how you had previously carried it throughout the conversation. Dino couldn't help but frown and feel his heart chip a bit. Going on dates and then dating someone was always exciting, so he felt empathetic that you hadn't quite experienced that type of emotions yet. And he also felt sad that people had done you wrong.

"People suck," he murmured. "I'm sorry that you've been out with people who didn't take the time to realize how lucky they were for meeting you."

Your eyes widened at his words. You opened your mouth to clarify but you were so thrown off by his words. Luck? He thought it was a good thing meeting me? A complete stranger? You bit the inside of your cheek to try to rid of the creeping blush on your cheeks. This guy was too sweet to you.

"I mean, I felt like I was lucky when I found out you swiped on me," he confessed.

Now it was Dino's turn to blush. Your eyes widened but you couldn't help but smile wider. It was endearing to see him get a bit shy, almost like he was revealing the past version of himself. You were truly the lucky one that someone had just wanted to spend their Sunday evening with you.

"Trust me, I felt the same way. Even more so when you asked me. It was an easy yes."

Dino's ego came soaring back a bit. He knew the hardship of dating in college and trying to form authentic relationships. What he found himself wanting to do now was give you the best that he could offer to you.

"So is that what you meant in your bio when you put that you are looking for something new?"

It was as if in that moment you could hear glass shattering. Reality had come back into full swinging, shattering any sense of hope you had. There was no fighting the truth because it always finds a way to reveal itself. God, I just want to be eaten by the floor.

"Actually, yes and no?"

You sounded unsure of yourself. Yet, not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Dino kept a smile curled onto his lips. The way he sat was relaxed yet he was leaning in slightly, showing you that he was ready to listen to you. It was a silent way of encouraging you to speak, if you wanted to that is. Honestly, Dino just appreciated that he was with someone who seemed genuine rather than someone looking for a free meal or just to sneak off to the bedroom afterwards.

"So yes, this," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "is new to me. I've never gone on a date with a guy I matched from Tinder."

As if Dino's ego could grow anymore. You took a chance on him? You decided to try something new, to experience something different from your day-to-day all because you saw his profile? And that himself decided to take a risk and message you? Damn, he just won the damn lottery.

"But dating in general is new for me."

Woah, pause. You've never dated someone before? His eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly.

All you could do was sit there as began to panic. Oh no. Everything around you felt like it was coming tumbling down. And to make matters worse, the waitress showed up with your dinner plates. She set them down in front of the two of you respectful. The awkward tension literally being cut by the sound of sizzling meats from Dino's fajitas and the steam rising into the air.

"Let me know if you two need anything else!"

I need you to help me get out of this nightmare.

"Sorry," Dino said, clearing his throat. God, he felt awful. He could actually see the way your heart shattered at his reaction. And the thing was that he didn't even think it was a bad thing. He was just surprised because he was under the impression that everyone his age just dated around and that it was awful.

Time to do some damage control.

"I'm just surprised. I know it can't be because guys weren't throwing themselves at you. I mean, you are absolutely breathtaking," he vocalized. "But you really never have been on a first date? Ever?" "Never ever," you said, laughing nervously.

Now he felt the need just to get to know you, but also be protective of you. You truly were an angel in every sense to him.

The remainder of the date was smooth. It was as if disclosing your little secret helped you feel more relaxed. It also helped that Dino didn't come from a place of judgement. You did end up asking him what all he had experienced, and he admitted that it was quite a bit more.

But it seems like the thing you two were searching for was an authentic love connection. It was something Dino has gotten close to experiencing, but only scratched the surface of discovering.

Dino was the absolute gentleman during the date. He made sure you had enough water, that you were enjoying your meal, and that he even paid. That was something he wouldn't let you dispute. You weren't expecting it either, which also took Dino by surprised. He figured it was just first date etiquette that the man pays. Yet, you've heard too many horror stories from your roommates and TikToks were the guy doesn't even over to pay his half.

He even offered to drive you home. You were hesitant, for which Dino than at least offered to order you an Uber back to your apartment. But feeling guilty of him spending more money, you agreed to a ride back to your apartment. He allowed you to put in your address into the GPS before you relaxed in the passenger seat.

Never before did Dino think there was something special about a person riding passenger seat. Now, he wanted you always to be by his side in this sense. He loved glancing over whenever he rolled up to the stop sign or stopped at a red light that he could see you.

There indeed was something different about you, and Dino felt it. You were unlike any other woman he's been with as you seemed to want to invest in someone, to create something unique. You made him feel as though all those trials and tribulations of dating were all worth it if it meant it led all to you this whole time.

Coming up to your apartment, Dino parked the car. You raised an eyebrow as you watched him get out. It all clicked though when he walked around to open the passenger side door.

"You really are a gentleman, huh?" You said teasingly. "Hey, I'm just making sure you get to experience everything you've missed out on."

You smiled brightly at him before gently getting out of the passenger seat. And this time, you didn't hide your blushing cheeks. Dino loved knowing that he could elicit that type of reaction out of you, and he wanted to do it more often. Hopefully he's done enough to get you to consider a second date.

Once he made sure you were on the sidewalk and away from the door, he closed it. Slowly, he began walking you to the front door of your row house apartment. It was as if he didn't want the night to end. Neither did you.

"So," he began. "How was your very first date?" "It was everything I could have dreamed of and then some. Thank you for your kindness, Dino." "Anything for you, angel,' he confessed in a hushed tone.

Angel. I could get used to that.

Sooner than you two would like, you arrived at the steps of your apartment. Turning towards each other, you seemed like a lost for words. Especially you. What do you say to a guy that seems too good to be real? While you were hopeful he would want a second date, you wanted to be realistic. You couldn't fight the thoughts of your anxiety creeping in - what if he was only kind because he felt bad for you?

"I had a great time tonight, y/n," Dino began.

You were more than happy to let him take the lead on any sort of closing statement. Your racing heart and mind just was anticipating a 'but' to slip in.

"I don't want you to feel pressured to say yes to a second date. I know that there are a whirlwind of emotions that comes with any first date, let alone your very first one. All I'm saying is that I hope you consider seeing me again?"

The man in front of you was not the confident man you just had dinner with. He was biting his lip gently, his hands were in his pockets as he tried his damn best to keep eye contact with you. But, you could tell that he was anticipating a rejection.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Gently, you took a step towards Dino. His eyes widened slightly but he couldn't fight the smile on his face. Leaning up gently, you pressed your lips to his cheek lingeringly.

"And miss out on experiencing a second date? No way."

241 notes · View notes

nvnvmi · 3 months

Text

little secrets ᡣ𐭩 minors dni

cw: smut!!! fem reader, mentions of oral (f), fingering, overstim, (and they were) roommate!nanami, not proof read (pls be nice)

an: my first jjk fic <3 pls enjoy my word vomit

It was smaller than the length of your pointer finger. Tiny, pink, easy to tuck between your fitted sheet and the bed. Stowed away, hid so that nobody would ever know about it other than you. The hiding spot was also convenient — easy to grab while you’re kicking the comforter off. Too hot. Too pent up. Just stretch your hand back behind your pillows and there it is. The tiny pink toy in a gold silk bag. Charged, happily humming in your hand with the click of a button.

Your perfect little secret. A reliable one, something you know that is always there for you.

Until it’s not.

The bed frame, four posts and all, shakes as you tear it apart. Pillows scattered across the ground, sheets crumpled up and thrown at the foot of the bed. You’ve lifted the mattress, shone a flashlight in the spaces underneath. Not a single glimpse of it.

Panic starts to set in your chest. It weighs heavily on your stomach, which has started to flip. Could you have left it in the bathroom when you went to wash it? Was it accidentally thrown in with your laundry? Though you know all these possibilities are unlikely, you find yourself desperately trying to cling to them. To justify the disappearance.

There’s no point in destroying your room even more. It isn’t here. It had to have been misplaced. There’s no other explanation for what could have happened. It seems in your frantic panic and annoyance at what could have been, you forgot an important fact.

You’re not the only one that knows about your little pink secret.

But don’t worry — you’ll be reminded half past midnight, a hand clasped over your mouth and core vibrating violently.

It did end up in your laundry basket, tangled in your sheets, tagging along for the weekly wash. The second you had everything set up is when your phone buzzed. How could you have forgotten that you were supposed to meet a friend?

“Kento?” You called the second you hung up the phone, completely abandoning the sheets. The golden bag that didn’t catch your eye.

“Hm?” He responded, not bothering to look up from his book.

“I have to leave, like, now. Can you start my laundry for me?”

With a huffed laugh, he rolls his eyes. You couldn’t just toss it in quickly — no, he knows once you’re set on something, all other tasks cease to exist. It’s endearing. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” You’re not projecting your voice anymore, passing by where he’s sat in the living room. “I owe you.”

It was careless not to notice the golden bag against your white sheets. How did you miss that? Such a stark contrast, it should have been easy to catch your eye. Kento clicks his tongue, gently grabbing the bag by the drawstrings and pulling it out of the heap of sheets. He places it on the dryer, trying to figure out where he should put it. On your bed? Maybe back in the basket, once the sheets return?

The tension in your house was thick all the time. An obvious attraction between roommates that shouldn’t be there. For months, you both lived with it, ignoring the feelings that would bubble up when he loosened his tie after a long day, large hands flexing around the knot. Or when you would walk out of your room in the morning, stretching, tee shirt hiking up your thighs. The day Kento caught a glimpse of your panties — white and sheer — was when he realized he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. Though his expression remained neutral, eyes flicking up quickly, he knew he was weak. Unable to resist.

It wasn’t until one night. Too many glasses of wine, giggles in the living room as you both watched some shitty movie after a shitty week. You watched the lights from the television dance on his face, sharp nose more prominent than ever. What must it be like to sit— “Ken?”

He hums softly, head rolling towards you. “Yes?”

“I’m really hot.” You say. It’s true; the alcohol went straight to your cheeks, and the blanket you’re under felt suffocating. But god, there was this heat in your lower stomach. The one you feel every time you touch the gold bag, butterflies scattering as the sun pounds down on them. You get that feeling when you look at Kento. When he’s this close, the smell of red wine and a woody cologne makes your body feel like summer.

Eyes flicker to your lap, his hand following. He pulls the blanket away. “Better?”

You shake your head. “No. Not at all.”

“I can see what the thermostat is set on—“

Thank the heavens for wine, and the unbridled confidence that comes from it. That night you straddled his lap, fingers carding through his perfectly styled hair. That night he got to taste you, words slurring when his tongue worked over your folds. That night was a pivoting moment, and Kento wasn’t just your hot roommate that you fantasized about anymore.

It’s been almost a year since that night, and you two have found yourself craving each other far too often. He’s stopped dating, noticing nobody holds your attention quite like you. It’s hard to acknowledge anyone else when you’re around — and he doesn’t want to, either.

The bag ended up in his room. He knows you haven’t been using it as often anymore. Just like him, you’ve found yourself far too enamored to even want anything other than him.

He walked by your room as you were searching for that toy. Mumbling in frustration, huffing and puffing as you came up empty again and again. Maybe it’s time to return it.

You like the third highest setting. Intense, but not overwhelming, pressed right to your clit. He watched as your eyelids fluttered at the first brush of it, a hand softly placed over your mouth. Thumb stroking your cheek. Only a few more seconds before he gets to see your pretty eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. Blinking up at him.

It’s an alarming sensation. Rem ripped away, you wake with a gasp. The inside of your thighs are already quaking a bit, held apart by his knees. Keeping your legs nice and spread for him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He says in a low whisper. The distress starts to melt once you recognize it’s him, sinking into the feeling. “Sleep well?”

You moan against his hand, eyes rolling back just slightly. God, the knot in your stomach is so tight already. Has the vibratior been on you that long? Or was it being woken up like this that’s rapidly pushed you to the edge of your cliff.

Either way — you can’t guarantee you’ll last much longer.

“You’re so pretty when you sleep.” Kento whispers, pressing a gentle kiss in between your brows. “I couldn’t spend another night away from you. I hope you don’t mind.”

It’s impossible to argue with Kento even when he doesn’t have a fucking toy pressed to your clit. The feeling starts to get more intense when you feel a hand on your inner thigh, slowly working its way up.

“You must have gotten hot again. Sleeping in only your panties? It’s like you were trying to provoke me, darling.”

The hand ghosts over your folds, tips of his fingers barely even touching you. Even in your tired, dizzy state, you quickly realize what he was going for. Your hands come up to his arm, nails digging in as you shake your head. If he presses that button—

Too late.

Not one click. Not two. Three. The second highest setting, the vibrations ripping a raw scream from your throat. He chuckles a bit, fingers going to plunge inside you.

“Oh my.” They slid in with ease. His pace is brutal off the back, quickly moving in and out. Brushing against every part of you that craves him, that needs him. “See, this is why you should stay in my room. I’d never let my girl go to bed so worked up.”

Tears sting. Sweat forms at your hairline. Ecstasy building so fast and so relentlessly that you have no time to think. The world is Kento — nothing else matters.

You grunt against his hand, panting pathetically against it. Your nails draw blood, bruises sure form. Good. You hope the marks never fade.

A fat tear rolls down your cheek, quickly brushed away by his thumb. His smile is gentle, warm. A contrast from how roughly he’s treating your cunt. He’s filthy, rough, treating you like the little pink vibrator stuffed against your clit. A toy. His toy.

But, god, it’s the affection in his gaze that sends you to the brink. Raw screams, tears that are quickly wiped away. Your body twitches as you soak the clean sheets, his sweatpants. Everything covered in you.

Kento quickly withdraws his fingers, moving the vibrator from your clit. His hand properly cups your face, unrestricted moans filling the apartment. You’re fisting his white shirt, hands so small compared to his large frame.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He peppers kisses across your cheeks, licking the salty tears away. “There you go, there’s my girl.”

His girl. You’re hoping that one day, you truly will be — Kento knows you are already.

You look up at him, the waves of pleasure finally starting to numb. With a smile, you hit your bottom lip out. Silently asking for a kiss.

He beams at you, very happy to fulfill the request. Lips pressed against yours, you hum happily into the kiss. Content. Wonderfully achy. A feeling that only comes when you’re with Kento.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, he reaches for the little pink toy, and clicks it on again.

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

299 notes · View notes

rthko · 3 months

Note

Hey so here's a conversation you might or might not be interested in having but if you'd like to, it's been my understanding that you participate in the time honoured tradion of cruising (TM), so I was curious about how/why you first started engaging with that? Was it an intentional choice? Are there still live spots around where you live? Natural continuation from the grindr life? Feels like it isn't really a natural part of gay life for a lot of people these days and more of an active choice.

I do like having conversations like this! Now I do cruise, but not in the ways that first come to mind with the term "cruising." My experience is limited to bathhouses, bars, and parties with play spaces, but I haven't done it in, say, a park or a highway rest stop. Cruising refers to looking for sex in places known for the practice. Said sex does not have to occur there, so finding someone at a cruising spot and going to a second location is cruising, but a couple arranging to have sex in a park is not. There are definitely gray areas--is Grindr cruising, or is it an existential threat to the culture? What's the line between a plain old bar hookup and cruising? Is going to a cruising spot only to have sex with people you already knew cruising? Maybe someone reading this knows better than I do.

Knowing spots is and always has been a matter of word of mouth, but sites like squirt . org and Sniffies have made it a lot easier. People looking to cruise might look at these sites, or look for advice for their city in forums, or just know the right people who know their way around the "pickle parks." The spots I've been to are the easiest to find--obviously people are going to be having sex at a bathhouse. But there are other options--informal, discrete spots that don't (or can't) require an entry fee. You'd be surprised just how many there are, and not just in the cities you'd suspect. I just don't know much about this world, aside from the "official" brick and mortar spots.

I started going first out of curiosity, but then I kept finding more and more reasons. It wasn't a natural continuation from Grindr life but rather a reaction against it. I was sick of Grindr. I wanted to work on people skills, like dishing out and taking rejection respectfully, and without the ego-preserving move of a block button. I had a roommate and felt awkward inviting people over. I didn't have a car and had a hard time even getting to other people's places, and by the time I got there I'd lost my sexual appetite. I found being naked or in a towel in a space full of equally naked people helped me be at ease with my body. The men I had sex with couldn't find and contact me after the fact unless I deliberately gave them contact information. I felt more freedom to say no or change my mind in a place full of sexual possibilities than I would at someone else's apartment. I found a lot of reasons beyond finding voyeurism and exhibitionism hot--which I do.

I have learned not to focus too hard on the why. A lot of different types do it for a lot of different reasons, and that's part of the appeal for me. There are closeted and experimenting men, out and proud gays who view the baths as part of their identity, disrobed white collar professionals visiting my city for a conference, locals who can't host, and nobody's really asking who's who. This is the sort of contact that Samuel R Delany wrote about, overcoming the guiding rule of cities that we "don't talk to strangers." Michael Warner also has great writing on cruising and public sex, and challenges the idea that gay victory will look like normalcy and the end of cruising. Cruising is not as popular as it used to be, and I think it's important to acknowledge a lot of this comes down to policy and not a change in the gay conscience. Ironically, the very gentrification that scrubs away these spaces has made them necessarily through a tightening housing market where fewer people can host. I would not be surprised if I heard it confirmed that more gays lately are choosing to cruise--or already are and don't realize it. At the risk of over-simplified sentimentality, I'd be glad to hear it.

161 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader [917 words]

Living in a trailer whilst pregnant wasn’t exactly what you had planned out. Living in a trailer whilst pregnant and having your boyfriends uncle as a roommate wasn’t all that great either.

But then again, having a baby at twenty three hadn’t really been all that high on your to do list. But condoms split, conversations were had in Eddie’s arms under bed sheets and life got a little more exciting.

You weren’t far off from being able to afford a place of your own, a little apartment that you and Eddie could call home. A space for a crib, a little room for Eddie’s guitars to hang, your desk and books underneath. And until then, Wayne tried his best to help in every and all ways, bringing home pregnancy books that Janet, the garage’s secretary gave him to loan to you, helping Eddie save up some more cash by giving him extra shifts.

You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but you liked it best when Wayne took off for a day or two, spending his weekends out of town on fishing trips with his old college buddies, four of them leaving in the truck with their lines, two tents and a cooler full of beer.

Those were the days you knew you could come home from work and really relax, the less clothing the better, ‘cause as the weeks went on your stomach grew, going from pudgy to hard, faint lines stretching over your skin as if to say, ‘look! Look at what I’m making!”

And as incredible as that was, your jeans didn’t really fit anymore.

You were only around two months, almost two and a half, but the whole job of growing a little human inside of you whilst you also worked your actual job was starting to take its toll. Your feet ached, your muscles hurt and you spent the best part of the morning eyeing the bathroom door, wondering if your breakfast was going to be rejected by what you assumed was going to be your very fussy child.

So by six o’clock, you were walking through the door and you wanted to cry at how the whole trailer smelled like lavender and honey, the sound of the bath tap bubbling into the tub.

Eddie appeared at the sound of the door opening and closing, head poking out of the bathroom and grinning at your watery eyes.

“Baby,” he greeted, knowing how to read you. “Baby.”

“You’re running me a bath?” You sniffed, eyes wide and lips pouting. You were very happy about that, Eddie knew, despite the way your voice wavered. “And you tidied the kitchen?”

You almost hiccuped. The boy was trying his best not to laugh, knowing that it would only set you off even more, pregnancy making you emotionally susceptible to kind gestures and light teasing.

Eddie called you his little minefield.

“There’s even a little somethin’ for you in the fridge,” the boy hummed, greeting you properly by cupping your warm cheeks in his hands, squishing them fondly before dropping a kiss to your lips. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“M&M’s?” You asked softly.

“The biggest bag I could find,” Eddie answered. But he was coaxing you past the fridge and towards the bathroom, where sweet smelling steam was melting out of the door. “But first, your bath, princess.”

Bubbles and foam almost overflowed the tub, sweet smelling and making the air warm. Eddie whistled as you stripped, grinning when you flushed and tried to frown, holding your outstretched hand to help you in.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Eddie,” you said mournfully as you sank into the hot water, sighing at the way it nipped a little, wrestling out the knots in your back. “I look like someone stuck a bike pump in me.”

You were exaggerating, you knew that. You were nowhere near as big as you knew you were going to get, but your ankles were swollen and your tummy felt tighter than it did last week, your belly button sticking out for the first time ever.

The boy tutted, moving to sit on the tiles by the tub, an arm dropping into the suds to find a leg. His fingers curled around your calf, soft and affectionate as he traced lines along the tired muscles there.

“Don’t make me argue with a pregnant lady,” he commented mildly, “you’re fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty, pretty girl.”

You sunk a little further into the bubbles, eyes turning softer at his words. Eddie was gazing down at you, brown eyes doting.

“You spoil me,” you told him and he could hear the thanks there, the sweetness, the sincerity.

The tap dripped, some bubbles fizzed and Eddie hummed, a low soft laugh.

“You’re carrying my hellspawn, baby,” he told you, his palm soothing it’s way up your leg. He found the dough of your inner thigh and squeezed, hand moving upupup until it cupped the swell of your belly. “Runnin’ you a bath is the least I could do.”

You snorted, foamy bubbles blowing into the air at your huff. “S’not a hellspawn.”

Eddie’s brows rose into his curls, a smile stretching prettily over his face. He looked at you disbelievingly. “No?” He mused. “I’ll be sure to remember that when little Beelzebub is kicking your bladder at four am.”

You pouted, hand reaching out to poke at the boy’s chin, smiling when he pretended to bite at your finger.

“Fine,” you relented. “They’re not a hellspawn, right now. They do want M&M’s though.”

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

2K notes · View notes

2hoothoots · 4 days

Note

So I was going through your blog (again) and found some of your stuff mentions fsau Raz having ADHD, as somebody with adhd I’m intrigued, may I have some of those headcanons (canons??) related to that? Also, I would give “a penny for your thoughts” but I’m out of pennies, so here’s various images of a drawing of ur blorbo I put next to my animals, note that a rock had to be added in one picture to keep him from flying away (BONUS: his now permanent place with the wifi guardian frog)

NOTHING brings me more joy than seeing physical drawings of these guys, like, out and about. in situations. thank you for this gift, and ALSO for the great ask because it's a perfect chance to ramble

so first of all, canon Raz having ADHD is very real to me. he's constantly fidgeting and moving around, getting distracted by sidequests and scavenger hunt objectives, always talking to himself out loud, gotta write everything down so he remembers it because there's so much to DO!, running away from home because his dad yelled at him one time and now Raz assumes he must hate him forever... i could go on, but i think there's a lot of room for interpretation there!

in my headcanon, he never got diagnosed as a kid. maybe there were some notes about it in his reports each year, sure - but a little hyperactivity and distractability never seemed to slow him down. he excelled in lessons and on missions, and when he was with his family their performances gave him something to focus that energy into. it was only really when he turned 18 and graduated to a full agent that the cracks started to show.

because there's a big difference between the responsibilities you have as a minor, and the responsibilities you have as an 18-year-old living away from home! one who's expected to cook and clean for themselves, and take care of adult life stuff, and also work the 9-to-5 office job he's just graduated into that involves sitting in front of a computer and write reports all day.

short-term, he found he could get himself to power through a deadline with energy drinks and psi-pops (a lot of psi-pops...)

long-term, something had to give. he was working himself to exhaustion, constantly stressed, swinging between days spent staring at his computer screen doing nothing and all-nighters desperately trying to finish his paperwork before the deadline. it just didn't make any sense to him. he'd finally started his job as a Psychonaut, he was living independently like he'd always dreamed, he'd gotten top surgery after planning it for so long. he should have everything he ever wanted. why wasn't he happy?

following a deep post-surgical depression, about a month before his 19th birthday Raz was living out of his car, couch-surfing or sleeping in his office. he got kicked out of his apartment after falling behind on bills and rent. it wasn't that he didn't have the money, it was all just too much for him to stay on top of.

he'd probably have stayed in that misery hole for a lot longer if Frazie hadn't marched into his life and demanded he let her help him move into a new place, or she was telling mom that he was homeless. together, they sorted through all of his possessions from the last place - everything that had been hastily shoved in his car, or tossed in a box in his office, piled in a heap that was giving him anxiety even looking at it.

things do get better for him from there.

when he eventually explains things to Hollis, she gently suggests that he should get a roommate. he ends up moving in with Phoebe, and they become pretty good friends after a couple months! something about having another person around to help do the chores and wash the dishes and share the space helps, even if it takes him a while to admit it.

he gets his ADHD diagnosis, and finding the exact right medication and dose is a journey he's still on years later - but they're a huge help in getting him to actually knuckle down and finish his work on time. and the whole thing ends up being a chance for him to take a step back and really think about what he wants to do with his life. he'd always assumed that being a Psychonaut was his dream, but he'd never really reckoned with what that dream would look like before.

in the end, he sticks with it, but also decides to follow Lili's example in branching out. he applies to study a part-time Bachelor's in Psychology on a remote course, and gets accepted. juggling missions and paperwork and study and relationships (because the whole thing made him realise he also wasn't setting aside any time for himself, and wow, dating is a thing) is a lot - but he manages to figure it out, day by day.

(Lili comes back to the Psychonauts after graduating. she and Raz have both changed a lot over those four years, but on their first mission together they hit it off like a house on fire - and the rest is history!)

#psychonauts #future superstar agents au #i really want to go more into this period of their lives for all three of them honestly #Raz and Phoebe's friendship is really sweet to me and i'd like to explore it more #and Lili's adventures at college! finding herself in an environment where for the first time in her life people /don't/ know her family nam #and Dogen finally realising he /has/ a life to live ahead of him. that it's not just isolation and tests and pills that don't work #young adulthood is a weird time! lots of ups and downs #but they all make it through okay #fsau raz #fsau frazie #babyfaced 18-yo raz is so funny to me. why are you making him experience the horrors he's literally just a little guy #ask #ALSO your pets are all wonderful. please give them kisses from me

57 notes · View notes

laenordeservedbetter · 1 year

Note

Just idea to look over for if/when you feel like doing requests.

Sam and reader have always been close. The two grew up together. But after everything that happened in Woodsboro and them moving to New York, the two have grown even closer. Closer to the point where Sam sleeps in Readers bed because of her nightmares and one night when Sam thinks reader is asleep, she confesses her feelings to rs 'sleeping' figure.

Sweet Nothing

Words: 1.2k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of nightmares, cussing, fluff, humor in things that are supposed to be serious

This is set before the events of Scream VI. Reader is Tara and Sam’s roommate here, not Quinn.

Title is based on the song ‘Sweet Nothing’ by Taylor Swift :)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

Sam sleeping in your bed had turned into a customary routine pretty quickly after you moved to New York. It was no surprise, really. The two of you have stuck by each other your whole lives. Though, given everything that befell the town of Woodsboro, it’s safe to say that you and Sam had gotten closer.

However, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Moving to NYC helped, sure, but that did not fully erase the remnants of the trauma it has given all of you. Especially Sam.

The nights were often hard to endure because of the nightmares. It was why Sam didn’t get much sleep. You found that out when you saw her on the living room couch staring blankly at the television with bloodshot eyes. She was barely moving when you saw her. That was when she opened up about her nightmares, how she couldn’t sleep well. In turn, you invited her to rest in your room.

It seemed silly at first, but it proved to be fruitful when Sam admitted the next day that because of the sleepover, she had had the best sleep she's gotten in months since the murders.

From that day onwards, Sam has been staying in your bed and is rarely found in her own room to the point where Tara suggested that the three of you should get a new roommate who’ll occupy Sam’s space since the older Carpenter sibling doesn’t sleep there anymore.

But as much as your sleepovers are helping Sam, it is also torture for her.

It was no secret that she harbored feelings for you. How could she not? You grew up together, went through so much shit together, and left the fucked up town of Woodsboro together. Still, those things can’t encompass how she feels about you. Every minute you spend with each other singularly adds fuel to an open fire. Even if you spend time apart, it won’t matter. The feelings are still there to eat her up. But she’d rather take that any day than losing you.

“Are you awake?” Sam glances at you over her shoulder. You have your back turned, eyes closed. She sighs when you don’t reply. “Guess not.”

She tries to fall asleep as well, but it is proving to be difficult since this is one of the nights where her affection for you threatens to eat her alive. If nightmares aren’t her problem, it’s her feelings. No matter what she does, there’s always something keeping her up at night. Although if you were to ask, she’d say that she very much prefers the latter. Looking at you brings Sam a calmness that pulls her back to reality when the darkness is trying to drag her away.

In a split-second decision, Sam attempts to impart a description of how vast her love (it took her a long time to agnize that it was no longer a stupid crush) is for you to your sleeping figure.

“I didn’t find a safe space until I met you. To other people, I’m strong, despite all the fucked up shit I went through. Only in your arms do I allow myself to break. You see who I am and not who I appear to be. You are who I look forward to seeing at the end of the day. It is you who I would do anything for. You’re who I… love.” Sam breathes out, smiling at her own words. “Feels good to finally say that out loud.

“Loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. Though it took me a long time to understand what I feel, I am grateful because I finally found a name to the crazy storm of emotions that I experience whenever you look at me. And, fuck, I’d do anything for you to keep looking at me the way you do. But I’d never have the guts to say that when you are awake because what if you stop? That would certainly change things. I don’t want to lose you . . . It is enough for me to love you from afar. I don’t want to be selfish, pining for someone I can’t have. So, I’ll settle for this, hoping that that would be enough.”

Sam feels an invisible weight lift off of her shoulder. She did it. She finally confessed her feelings despite knowing that it doesn’t count since you aren't conscious to hear this. If Tara saw what is happening, she would likely call Sam out on being a chicken. The Carpenter girl closes her eyes, sleep creeping up on her before…

“You know, out of all the confessions I had imagined I would get from you, I would’ve never expected hearing that.” You turn to your side, facing Sam and you look on with amusement as her eyes widen in fear. “Not complaining, by the way. What you said was sweet.”

Sam looks away, her hand covering her eyes as if that would make this situation any less embarrassing. She waits for the ground to swallow her whole, but that moment never comes. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow, “For what?”

“I’m sorry I feel this way.” She clarifies, “I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I ruined everything. I’m so sorry.” Tears start to prickle in her eyes.

You seem to think ahead, considering how you sit up, gingerly pulling Sam’s hand away from her face before she can hurriedly wipe out the tears. “Sam, you didn’t ruin anything.” You assure her. It hurts you to know that she thinks that she is ruining what you have by falling in love with you, as if you haven’t made it obvious that you feel the same.

“I didn’t?” Sam appears confused, half-expecting you to turn away and leave.

“I love you too.” You admit, sheepishly. “I had a whole plan to declare it. I was gonna take you out tomorrow to your favorite diner. Then, I would have asked you to walk with me and confess my feelings while watching the gorgeous scenery, including all that sappy shit that we’ve only ever seen in movies, but I guess this works too.”

Sam blinks repeatedly (you would’ve thought she was malfunctioning if you didn’t know her) prior to getting on top of you to hit you with a pillow. “So you’re telling me that we could’ve gotten that instead of whatever this is? Why. Did. You. Pretend. You. Were. Sleeping. This. Whole. Time?!”

You put your hands in front of your face to shield yourself from the attack. Laughing, you manage to say, “In my defense, I didn’t know you were going to say that! For all I know, you could’ve been planning to tell me you have diarrhea or something!”

“Unbelievable.” Sam scoffs, getting off of you. She stands up, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.” She answers, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “You’ll make it up to me tomorrow by taking me to that diner.”

“We’re not even gonna kiss?” You pout.

Sam shakes her head indignantly, “Nope. Not until you take me out to dinner.” Seeing how affected you are, she chuckles teasingly, “It’s not the end of the world, Y/n. Be patient.” Then, she disappears, leaving you in your room alone with your thoughts.

You slump back into the bed, giggling like someone with a school girl crush.

And to think that this was only the beginning.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #scream franchise #scream

719 notes · View notes

webcorelino · 1 year

Text

what you like [2/2] | lee know.

After your roommate walked in on you and offered a helping hand, you couldn't quite get him off your mind. Soon enough you would find out that avoiding your attraction to Minho will only result in bubbling it's accumulation up to the surface.

Roommate!Minho, female reader. ~3.1k words

WARNINGS: smut, fingering (female receiving), minho calls reader bunny (he's projecting), tiniest bit of orgasm denial, mention of reader being in sub space. MDNI.

Author’s note: this was requested!! thank you anon, i hope you like it :) as always, thank you for reading!! reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated c: also, i just moved accs! please follow this one if you'd like : )

Don't interact with my work if you’re a minor or have a ageless/default/empty blog.

Golden hour paints the living room of your shared apartment. Minho was too lazy to get up and close the curtains, and you ignored the man's advances to try and get you to do it for him, "you should be the one to shut them if it's bothering you so damn much" you'd say, a thin veil of fake annoyance covering your lovesick gaze. Both you and your roommate aren't fond of sunlight, but ever since that afternoon in your bedroom you've been leaving curtains open on purpose–just to get the chance to see him bathing in a warm, engulfing, comfortable feeling. Maybe it'll remind him of something, you'd think. Maybe if he allows the sun to linger on his skin for a bit, it'll take him back to that day, to an overwhelming feeling of heat taking over his skin, to an epiphany. Maybe he likes me back.

His light brown locks shine blond in the sunlight and it's impossible to look away–he sits directly parallel to the window, manspreading on the couch with his head thrown back–you were laid on your back beside him, his sole hand on your ankle providing double times the heat the sun ever could.

It's been a couple of months since your encounter, since your dirty mouth wouldn't settle for his hands on your throat and shamelessly verbalized you craved him elsewhere. "I love that you're into dirty talk, but I can't help but wonder how it's like when your mouth's busy." You'd cringe at your words if they weren't responsible for getting Minho on his knees, making you cry later that day. He had gotten up from your bed, kneeled beside it, and guided your hips towards it's edge–your thighs spread open over his shoulders.

As expected, at first, Minho was experimental. He started with gentle kisses along your slit, wetting his pouty lips in your arousal and gently sliding them through your core. You saw stars every time he kissed your clit, allowing his tongue to touch your bud the slightest bit as he sucked it into his mouth. With time, when Minho was satisfied with your whispered pleas, he eased his tongue into you. He'd lap your wetness and smudge it all over you for hours on end, you begged for his fingers multiple times but he didn't comply–said he liked to watch how greedy your cunt was, squeezing around nothing, begging for his sympathy. The sun was still beaming through your bedroom window when Minho walked in on you, but by the time he left you sweaty and breathless and alone in your bed, the moon hanged high in the sky.

Needless to say, Minho didn't leave your mind since that day. You were too spent and embarrassed to leave your room after he left that night, and by the time you joined him for breakfast the morning after, he acted as if the ghost of his touch on your neck was nothing but fruit of your imagination. For a while, you convinced yourself it really was. It was easier to live in a reality where your roommate didn't drive orgasm after orgasm after that orgasm out of you, not only beating your own record but spoiling you so bad that bringing yourself to climax never felt quite right again. That was only until a few weeks later–he threw a quick joke about how his knees were still ruined after "that one time", complaining about not being able to keep up with his dance routine–a daring smirk and raised eyebrows adorning his always so teasing countenance before walking out of the living room, leaving you to deal with the fact that that night did happen, and you were no longer able to gaslight yourself into believing that it didn't. If only Minho allowed you to doubt your own reality, you wouldn't have to sit with a twisted stomach and increasing heartbeat as you watch him watch TV–the bright sun darkening most of his features but highlighting his striking profile.

You wish you could blame the butterflies solely on lust, but the swell of your heart objected infatuation. It has been happening for a while, if you were honest. No one could quite get on your nerves like Minho, no one understood and bounced off of your sense of humor like he did. The tension always grew thicker with each snarky remark of his, an unspoken battle of who would land the last blow. Maybe it would've been fine if he allowed you to pretend that was all your relationship was–a fun, superficial build up of tension, annoyance hiding desire. But of course things couldn't be so simple. Minho had this thing of being able to read you like his favourite novel–he became a master of interpreting each bait and switch of your gaze in your otherwise (to people not fluent in you) neutral expression. You liked it the most when he simply knew you were feeling down, albeit you tried your hardest to not let it show. Like a emotional support cat, he would sneak in your room if he noticed you've spent way too long in isolation and sit at your desk. Sometimes on the floor. Sometimes he would even fold the pile of clothes by the foot of your bed and store them back in your closet. He wouldn't say a word–not until you started the conversation. Minho would cook your favourite meals and shit talk every single one of your favourite shows. He always binge-watched every single one of them with you, though.

"I'm sitting here watching the most bullshit show in existence because of you and you can't do me the favor of getting up and closing the blinds?" He groans, slightly shaking your ankle.

He forces you to stop eyeing him when his attention switches from the TV to you, your eyes instantly glueing to the screen when you replied. "Well if it's so fucking unbearable why don't you spare yourself a few seconds of torture and actually get up and close the curtains?" Your voice is laced with false sweetness, "I'm really enjoying this episode."

"Doesn't look like it." He mutters, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the window.

Your eyes follow him back to the couch. "What do you mean?"

"You spent the last forty five minutes staring at me."

You laugh as if he's wrong. "Your ego is getting way too big."

"And your little crush is getting way too obvious."

You eye him up and down from your spot on the couch, furrowed eyebrows and a challenging smirk plastered on your lips. "Says the one who got his knees fucked up because he couldn't bring himself to stop eating me out."

He shrugs as a chuckle leaves his lips, bored eyes fix on the screen before you. "Says the one who was screaming from just getting my tongue. You came like eight times."

"You were going at it for hours."

"You were begging me to keep going."

"Whatever. Shut the fuck up." Laughter echoes through the room when you playfully push him with your feet, Minho quick to cage your legs on his lap again.

Minutes of comfortable silence settle in the room, the low volume of the show you both seem to be engulfed in barely covering Minho's low voice, his words getting muffled by their breathiness.

"I haven't been able to get it off my mind, you know." His gaze follows the patterns his thumb draws on your skin. "How you were begging for me."

You humm, heart thundering in your chest as your tired eyes fix on the screen–they didn't budge, but you couldn't tell what was going on in the show to save your life. You let him sit on his words before replying. "I think about that day too." A sigh escapes your parted lips, "All the time."

Minho's eyes turn to you, holding a gentle spark that seemed foreign to them–it reminds you of a spider slowly approaching it's prey, watching it struggle to escape it’s web. You wonder if he knows how long you've been patiently tangling yourself in his strings, waiting for him to swallow you whole.

"All the time?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. You nod, watching as Minho spreads his thighs, tapping the space between them. "Come here, then."

You feel your heartbeat in your cunt as you crawl to sit between his legs, relaxing your back on his chest. Minho's hand wastes no time finding it's way under your spaghetti strap shirt, palm caressing the awakening goosebumps on your skin as his other hand moves your hair, exposing your neck to him. His tongue leaves a wet trail from your collarbone to just under your ear, Minho humming lowly when he chooses a spot to suck onto. You shudder in his hold, resting your head on his shoulder as your eyes began to loose focus, eyelids fluttering shut. "Missed your mouth so much."

He chuckles, "Could've ask for it. Didn't I mention how much I like it when you beg?"

You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat when his palms find your breasts. It's the first time you've felt his touch there–lightning running through your veins as Minho moans on the skin he sucked into his mouth, your hand instinctively pulling his soft roots. Still, your eyes roll at his remark. "I don't even know what I liked the most about that day..." He grinds against you, making you trail off to a moan. "If it was how good you made me feel, or that you couldn't say anything the entire time."

His teeth bite into your skin and you can feel his smirk against you. "If you like it so much when I'm quiet you should try keeping my mouth busy."

You pulled Minho's hair harsher than you intended, but his loud moan when his lips clash into yours indicate you shouldn't worry about it too much. He feels lightheaded when you pull it again, lust slowly blinding his senses as your tongue pries his mouth open, his hands groping your breasts rougher each time your ass massaged his cock–your hips moving in slow, circular motions on his lap.

Saliva mounds in the corner of Minho's lips when one of his hands make their way down your torso, your sigh giving him a quick moment to inhale before your hunger envelopes him again. The constant moans of both parties fill the room, Minho's cock growing harder in his shorts the more you press against him. He smirks against your lips when his fingers find the soppy spot on your underwear.

Your shudders mess with Minho's mind as he presses his palm to your cunt, rubbing you throughly through your underwear. He inhales your warm pants against his mouth when his middle finger nudges your clit. "Where did all that attitude go, huh?"

Suddenly, your brain found it difficult to grasp words to your sentences. "Still have it." You moaned out, unable to break eye contact with the man.

"You better lose it if you wanna cum." His thumbs hook on each side of your shorts, swiftly pulling them down as you raise your hips off the couch. Minho wastes no time in throwing both your legs over each of his knees, promptly spreading you out for him. You don't even think of the fact that he's still fully clothed when he raises your shirt, resting it above your breasts–one of his hands palming your needy cunt being more than enough to distract you from the embarrassment.

You're too addicted to Minho's kiss to reply, seeking his mouth as soon as oxygen fills your lungs again. He swallows each of your loud moans, the restricted sounds lighting his skin on fire. His other hand spreading your lips open, giving him space to properly massage your clit–tips of his fingers dipping in your entrance ever so slightly just to circle back to your nub.

Your hips uncontrollably raise off the couch, your hands gripping the cushion for support each time his fingers flicked rapidly on your cunt. With your climax so close your eyes were already squeezed shut, you can't help but whine loudly on his face when Minho takes his hand completely off of you. Helpless, you're unable to hold yourself up when your knees stutter, falling back on the couch with a thud–Minho's hand immediately cupping you again, palm massaging it thoroughly as he chuckles at your whines.

"I was close, Min." You whine, mindlessly, rolling your hips to meet his hand.

"Hmm? Were you, baby? I'm sorry, I didn't know." His voice sounds so sweet, so genuine it melts your heart a little. Even after you open your eyes and take in his smirk, you can't help but being putty in his hands when he knows how to use them so well.

Minho's hips stumble back to life when he rolls them, pressing his erection against your ass and moaning into your mouth–tongues growing hungrier for one another with each sound leaving your lips.

Minho's entire body lights up in flames–he's sure every inch of his skin is burning red with the way you're grinding against his painful erection, your loud moans right next to his ear, and your soaked core ruining his hand–his palm so wet the sounds of his skin against yours were audible even if the loud moans demanded his full attention.

He knows you, and he can tell when you get too lost in it. You get into sub space rather easily, at least with him, and you get so whiny and squirmy it makes Minho's heart thunder in his ribcages, swelling with the need to have you all to himself. You would think the awakening of this feelings would make Minho go easier on you, but you're just too cute when you don't get what you want for him to cave so easily.

It's really out of your control at this point–your mind is no longer with you when goosebumps spike all over your skin, hips instinctively lifting off the couch again, seeking Minho's hand, seconds away from release. He entertains you for a few more seconds, moaning back in your mouth before sliding his hand off your core to your inner thigh, spreading your wetness through your skin as he kneads the soft flesh. You whine his name, throwing your head back on his shoulder with a grunt, grinding harshly against him.

"Minho, be nice to me, please."

"I'm being nice, bunny. Are you not feeling good?" The fact that his condescending tone seems to be going right over your hazed head entertains him. Dumb little baby's feeling too good to keep up with his teasing.

"I'm not feeling good enough." You argue, eyes now on his. He can't help giving a quick peck to your pout.

"Hmm? Not good enough? Look down, bunny." You both do. It just hit you that you're doing this in broad daylight, right in your living room. Your cunt, your inner thighs, the couch beneath you and Minho's hand all glistening with your arousal. The sight makes embarrassment catch up to you, hiding your face on his neck.

"I made a mess, sorry."

He lets out a soft chuckle, hand leaving your breast to massage the nape of your neck, his other palm gently rubbing your core. "Don't take full credit now, pretty. I made a mess out of you. Isn't that right?"

You nod against him, hips shyly beginning to move again.

"Are you gonna come for me now?" That makes you open your eyes and look at him, nodding with purpose. He wonders if his gaze looks as lost as yours, pupils blown with desire for him.

His hand leaves your hair and snakes down your body, spreading your lips with his pointer and index fingers as his other hand finds your clit. You start moaning as soon as his wrist starts moving, setting a fast pace with clear purpose.

You seek his lips again and he relents to your urgency, open mouths clashing with one another. Minho uses his hold on the hand that's spreading you open to try and keep your hips still, you grow more and more restless the closer you get to your climax, your moans getting louder and goosebumps violently creeping their way back under your skin, your hips trembling uncontrollably under his hold. Minho's movements screamed experienced.

"Tell me whose is it." His voice is low, breathy, as if he was as close as you were.

You struggle to reply, voice sounding shaky through moans. "It's yours. Yours, yours, Minho."

"This pussy is mine?" You nod, lips hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. "All mine? I can have it whenever I want?"

"Fuck, please, yes, Minho. It's all yours."

Your limbs shake in his hold, pleasure running hot through your veins as your walls pulse around nothing. Minho's fingers move in an addictive pace–overwhelmingly numbing you to the feeling of anything else besides his touch on your abused bud. The buzzing in your mind is so loud it desensitizes your ears–all you understand is your mouth is hanging open, you have no grasp over how loud your moans have become, too drugged to try and hold them back.

"Sweet little cunt. Miss your taste so bad." He purrs against your mouth, lips touching yours. "Come on, come on my fingers so you can clean yourself off of them. You want that? Hmm?"

It takes a while for your orgasm to ride off completely, the man behind you keeping his hand leisurely playing with you until your body relaxes on him. You stare, eyes sleepy as you watch Minho licking your arousal off his fingers. When his eyes bore into yours, you lips open instinctively.

"Tastes good, hmm?" You nod, looking at him as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. "Can't be too selfish, gotta share with you too."

Your body is buzzing with satisfaction, low humming settled in your throat as Minho stares into your eyes. Both his hands now soothe the goosebumps in your skin.

"Hi." You laugh at him, pretty smile plastered on his lips.

"Hi." Your reply grants a quick peck to your lips.

Minho hugs your waist, inhaling sharply before hiding his face on your neck, mumbling against the skin. "D'you wanna go out sometime?"

#skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee minho smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

682 notes · View notes