#for a moment its like the movie stopped and all that’s left for us to see are two figures dancing

[pennyserenade]

wish you were here.

chapter five - fade into you | ao3 link | previous chapter

pairing: javier peña x female oc, javier peña x named female oc (mariella) rating: t (teen) tags/warnings: angst, brief mention of infidelity, alcohol word count: 2.1k summary: Mariella and Javier continue to feel their way through a friendship. a/n: sorry this is taking me so long to write. love you

A tattered floral scrapbook of Mariella’s sits, face up, on the table. She stands in the corner of her kitchen, looking at it as though it has wronged her in some way. And in some ways, it has. 

In one hand she holds a glass of water and in the other, her telephone. Henry Rath’s number has been typed in, and her fingers hesitate to dial it. The trip down memory lane has proved to be a bitter one. So much of her life had been documented in that scrapbook, from graduations to weddings to the first house, to the very last birthdays she and Henry would spend as a couple together. It was hard to ignore him when he was all there—a little piece of him merged forever with a little piece of her. 

She knew it wasn’t fair, what she did to him. Or rather, what she’s doing to him. In the past three months, he’s left a handful of voicemails she’s deleted before even finishing. She screens most of her calls, just on the offhand chance that it might be him, and each time it makes her feel wrong. At first, it started off with good intention—she wanted to leave him alone, to let him go back to his life. But eventually, the more she thought about what they had done, the more ignoring him became less altruistic. Every time she hears the phone ring, she thinks of him in that hotel room and that little girl that hung on his hip, and she wants as far from it as possible. 

She places the telephone back in its cradle. The excuses are endless: it is Tuesday and she works tomorrow, so she shouldn’t start something she doesn’t know she can’t stop; he probably isn’t home from work yet; he’s likely forgotten about it and to call and remind him now would be cruel; his wife could pick up; closure isn’t the sort of thing either of them are particularly good at. 

Mariella picks up the telephone again. She waits patiently as it rings. 

“Hello?” Chucho answers. 

She leans back onto the counter, swirling the water in her cup. “Hey, Chucho. I was wondering if Javi’s home.”

“Javi?” he asks, sounding surprised. 

“Yeah, Javi. I never thanked him for helping me with my classroom last month and I’d like to.”

There’s a beat of silence before Chucho speaks again. “Javi’s always home, just never know where,” the man laughs. “Would it be alright if I had him call you back? I gotta go find him.”

Mariella glances over at the scrapbook on the table. “That’d be lovely, Chucho. Thank you.” 

When he hangs up, she moves over and closes the book shut. If she wasn’t so goddamn sentimental, she might throw the whole thing away but she is, so she can’t. Instead she tucks it away in the cupboards over her oven, where she’s stored a lone bottle of tequila for about two years now, and then she sits back, waiting. The phone rings a few moments later and she doesn’t hesitate to answer it. “Hello,” she picks up. 

“Mariella?” Javier asks. His voice is low, almost a whisper. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you sooner. I wanted to thank you for the classroom. I’ve been using it for about a week now, and it looks wonderful.”

On the other end, she can hear him shift with the phone. “It was no problem,” he replies softly. Then, after a pause, he says, “How are you, Mari?” 

“I’m good, Javier.”

“That’s, uh, that’s good.”

“How about you?” 

More some less movement. “I’m good too.” 

“My dad says he hasn’t seen you in the movie store as of late,” she says. Javier coughs awkwardly. 

“No? I guess I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy avoiding me? ‘Cause if so, I assure you that’s a safe zone. I don’t work there during the school year, remember?” It’s meant to come out teasing, but, at the current moment, she lacks the exact humor needed to pull off the weight of that sentence. She punctuates it with a laugh that is more of a huff than anything.

He protests. “I—That’s not why.”

“No?” she asks simply. 

“No, not really. There’s just been a lot to do around here. We got new horses. There’s a fence that needs to be built. Chucho just needs me more than the television does.” He attempts to laugh, but it sounds forced. She doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Think you could spare an hour or two to go get dinner with me?” 

“You want to get dinner?” he sounds in disbelief. 

She can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. One of my new student’s parents owns the bar downtown. They gave me two coupons for a free dinner.”

“Oh,” he replies. “Well, I’ll have to get cleaned up. Can you wait?”

“Sure.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you there at, uh—“ Another pause, “—how about seven?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright, see you then,” he replies. 

“Yeah, bye,” she adds awkwardly, hanging up. 

Slumping her shoulders, she lets out a deep sigh. Why must everything feel so fucking hard lately?

—-

“Thought you didn’t go to bars,” Javier says, bringing his beer to his mouth. He’s teasing, she can tell: that slanted brow, the pursued lips working hard not to press into a comely grin. She takes a sip of her own drink, and shrugs her shoulders. 

“I don’t,” she hums in response. 

The dinner crowd at the bar is surprisingly large, but conversation is easy to have. It’s nicer, really, in a place like this - too busy to have to worry if the table next to you is listening in. Not that she and Javier have ventured to any topics unsafe for public consumption. They’ve been good, drinking their beers, making small talk the way one might with a friend they’ve grown apart with. It’s got an intimate air to it, but it’s stilted for a strange, heartbreaking reason. 

They don’t talk about all that happened weeks ago, or why they’re sitting here now. Mariella doesn’t mind, really. This is the thing she enjoys about Javier, what she has seen in him since the beginning: he isn’t interested in brewing in the past. If she were a better woman, this might worry her, but luckily enough she isn’t. She understands all too well the temptation to look forward and never backward. 

The beer is making her feel warm and pleasantly buzzed. In the corner, there is a jukebox playing soft country songs and some people are dancing slowly in the middle. She and Javi watch them curiously, resting back in their chairs. 

“How’s the teaching going?” He looks back over at her. 

“It’s going well. The kid’s are as brilliant and witty as ever,” she smiles softly. “How’s the farm?”

Javier shrugs his shoulders. “It’s work. For the first time in months, I’m finally getting a full night’s rest, though, so I won’t complain too much.”

“I’ve always loved that piece of land,” Mariella says, looking back at the dancing patrons. “Miles upon miles of greenery. And the horses! I love driving up and watching them run.”

This makes Javier smile. “Chucho is proud of it and he should be, I suppose. I certainly appreciate it more now than I used to. In Colombia, it was like that—beautiful, I mean. And so green. Standing out in the fields sometimes reminds me of being back there.”

“Do you miss it?” she asks, before she finds the sense to know better. 

Javier’s eyes rake over the crowd, too. He watches a young couple in the corner for a bit, smiling as the boy’s hand gradually works its way lower on the girl’s back. Before he touches her ass, Javi looks back to Mariella, his smile faint but present. “Sometimes,” he answers. 

“I’d love to go someday.”

“You should,” he encourages. “It’s magnificent, really, unlike anything else. That shit they say in the news—it’s true, but not nearly that bad. Not for regular people with clean hands.”

Mariella shakes her head. “Just when I thought you had me sold, you had and go say that.”

“What, your hands dirty?” he narrows his eyes. 

She holds her palms out. “Red,” she nods, though they aren’t. He breathes out a quiet laugh. 

“I think you’d be alright—but go to Mexico first.” 

“You sound like my mother,” she laughs too. 

Looking over at Javi, Mariella debates whether to ask him if he wants to dance or not. The beer has made her feel a little more relaxed, but she’s not without her reason. She remembers the first day they met - really met - and how he said he didn’t know how to dance anymore. She also remembers the kitchen, and the incident that has driven them apart for a month. 

Before she’s given the chance, a woman stops in front of the table. She’s pretty — big blue eyes, an endearing grin — the kind of woman for whom the country accent was made to be spoken by. “Javi,” she says, someplace between shocked and amazed. 

Mariella feels bad at first, thinking this is going to be another one of those small town run-ins he hates, but when she looks over at him, she can tell it’s not. Something softer takes hold of him, something almost tender.  Mariella feels almost like an intruder as he says, “Hey, Lorraine.”

Lorraine’s eyes meet Mariella’s, and then go back to Javi’s. Javi understands. “Mariella, this is Lorraine. She’s my—“

“His old friend,” she finishes for him, extending her hand for Mariella to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve known about you for years. You’re all your Daddy talks about on Sundays sometimes.”

Lorraine can’t be much older than she is—maybe five or six years—and yet she seems so much more mature. She looks like what Mariella feels she’s been trying to attain her whole life: this perfect, well-rounded, soft-spoken girl who says words like ‘Daddy’ and manages not only to sound sincere, but sweet. 

Mariella shakes her head and smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

Lorraine glances over her shoulder, holding her finger up to a man standing by the entrance. “My husband,” she supplies, looking back at them both. “Listen, I better get going but I just wanted to say it’s nice to see you out and about, Javi. A lot of people here missed you.” Lorraine looks over to Mariella. “And really, it’s lovely to meet you, Mariella. I wish I had more time to sit and chat, because so many people have been telling us about your school. I’ve got a little one about school going age, and I’d love to put her in it.”

“Oh,” Mariella says, “Well, I can give you my number if you’d like.”

“Could you?” Lorraine smiles. “Oh, that’d be lovely.”

Mariella reaches into her purse and rummages around for a pen. When she finds it, she takes one of the napkins from the table and quickly jots down her information. “I wrote down my home number and the school’s. I wouldn’t mind answering any questions you have, but if you’re interested in enrollment information, the office number will be most helpful.”

Lorraine nods. Her hair bounces with her head, and Mariella can’t help but feel like she’s encountered a real life Barbie of sorts. She can imagine that she and Javier must’ve been real good friends, but it doesn’t do anything more than amuse her. 

“Bye, Javi,” Lorraine says, throwing up a hand. She pats Mariella on the shoulder on the way out, “Thank you again,” she says softly. 

Mariella rushes out an “Oh, you’re welcome” and Javier offers a wordless smile. They both watch her return to her husband, but Mariella returns her eyes to Javier long before he does to her. She watches the way a frown takes over his lips. 

Javier brings his beer back to his lips, seemingly shaking the encounter off. The tenderness is replaced by whatever was there before. It’s no less kind, but certainly not as intense. 

“She was my fiancée, once upon a time,” he explains. Mariella wouldn’t have asked, but she’s happy he’s willing to give her that information freely. She nods her head, not saying anything in reply. 

Her eyes return to the crowd, and they both settle into an introspective silence. Mariella forgets she ever wanted to ask him to dance in the first place. For a little bit, she even forgets her own troubles, too. 

She didn’t entirely know why she had called for Javier like she had earlier. He’d been on her mind, sure, but no more than Henry. In fact, a lot less than Henry. Something inside of her had told her to do it, so she had. She’s happy she did, now. 

Misery loves company they say, and she thinks she might’ve found herself a companion in one Javier Peña. 

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena x you #javier pena x female oc #javier pena x oc #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female oc #javier peña x oc #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic

[sailortongue]

someone help me name this fic

pairing: choso kamo x reader

summary: a simple movie night with your best friend turns into something more when his older brother joins your weekly ritual

wc: 3.3k

warnings: smut, nsfw, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, yuji is asleep in the same room briefly

an: why is smut so hard to write. feel like i put in so much effort just for it to not even be good

an 2: also the "title" is not a joke. this fic has been sitting in the docs for a few days and i'm still stumped. so if anyone has suggestions the floor is all yours

--------

Movie night was definitely your favorite night of the week. It always involved plenty of snacks, jokes, laughter, and was just generally a great time with your best friend. There was never a boring moment as long as Yuji was around. So no matter what, you could always expect to have fun.

What you didn't expect, though, was Yuji’s older brother, Choso, joining your weekly ritual. You liked him well enough, for what little you knew about him. For as long as you've been friends with Yuji you don't think Choso has ever said more than three words to you at one time. Not that that stopped you from harboring a small crush on the older male. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Crushing on your best friend’s brother. How cliche could you get?

But fuck Choso was pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. Especially now, when he was fresh out of the shower, his hair down from its usual space buns. You also noticed that he had removed the copious amount of earrings he usually had in his ears, giving him a softer look than you were accustomed too. You watched him run his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. You bet his hands would feel so good on your-

“Y/N!”

You snapped back to reality to see Yuji looking at you expectantly. “What?” you asked dumbly, heat spreading across your cheeks, embarrassed that you had accidentally ignored your friend in favor of thirsting over his brother. Get a grip you thought to yourself.

But Yuji only chuckled. “Rough week?” he asked.

You groaned as you dramatically flopped backward to lay on the couch, which was answer enough for Yuji. Always the optimist, he said, “Maybe next week will be better. You got this.”

“No, I don’t. This degree is eating me alive. I have not one, not two, but three exams next week!” you exclaimed, holding up three fingers for emphasis.

“You’ll be fine. You did well on your last exams and you’ll do well on these too. So like I was saying, I wanted to know if you had a particular movie in mind.”

You thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. How about we let Choso pick since it’s his first time watching with us?”

Both you and Yuji looked over at Choso, whose eyes widened at finding himself the center of attention. He hummed, trying to think if there was anything that piqued his interest before settling on a movie he’d been meaning to watch but never got around to.

“Perfect! Hey, Yn, can you pop some popcorn while I set it up?” asked Yuji.

You hummed your agreement and stood from your place on the couch, padding your way over to the kitchen. You dug in the pantry for the popcorn, finally finding the box shoved way in the back. You grabbed two of the pouches and placed one in the microwave. While that was popping, you decided to go ahead and get a large bowl for the snack.

Naturally, it was on the top shelf, which left you on your tiptoes and stretching your arm as high as you could all in vain. As if summoned by your plight, Choso walked into the kitchen to see your struggle.

“Hey, Choso, could you-”

Before you could even finish asking, he placed himself right behind you, his body flush to yours as he placed a hand on your hip for stability and reached up with the other arm to grab the bowl. He handed it to you with a simple “here” before walking back into the living room.

You couldn't believe that just happened. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you briefly considered splashing cold water on your face to cool it down. Luckily for you, Choso remained in the living room with Yuji, allowing you to have a small meltdown in peace. 

When you returned to the living room with popcorn in hand, you found that Yuji had made himself comfortable in the recliner, which left you with no choice but to share the couch with Choso. There was ample room on the couch for the two of you, but just being in the same room after his stunt in the kitchen felt too close, much less on the same couch.

You did your best to avoid looking at Choso, knowing your face would erupt with heat the moment you made eye contact. You placed the popcorn on the coffee table and took your seat on the opposite end of the sofa as Choso.

“Everybody ready?” asked Yuji excitedly, eager to watch a movie with two of his favorite people. When both you and his brother gave the affirmative, he started the movie. But for all of his excitement to watch it, you guess the exhaustion that comes with the end of a school week caught up to him, and he was asleep before he even made it halfway into the movie.

This left you to watch the rest of the movie alone with his brother, the man who had flustered you so terribly a mere hour ago and the one you thought about late at night. You silently cursed Yuji’s name for leaving you in this situation, even more so when the characters on screen ended up in a bedroom. You could feel Choso’s gaze on you, and when you glanced over at him, you were right, he was looking right at you.

You furrowed your brows into a questioning gaze, silently asking him what. He shook his head and returned his attention to the screen. You followed suit, but the graphic imagery was getting to you. You shifted in your seat, feeling the stirrings of arousal that first began with Choso pressing himself against your backside. You couldn't but imagine that the couple on screen was you and Choso: how it would feel to kiss him, be held by him, be fucked by him.

Why is this scene so long? You thought to yourself, rubbing your thighs together as discreetly as you could. But not as discreetly as you should have, apparently.

“Are you cold?” asked Choso. Now, Choso knew damn well you weren’t cold, but he wanted to see how far he could push you, how desperate he could make you. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you insisted.

He frowned at your response and scooted over next to you anyway, extending his blanket to cover you. You weren't so naive to think that this is a normal and friendly interaction. Especially not when Choso’s large hand slid over your thigh and rested just below the hem of your shorts. You stiffened in your seat, and a warmth began to spread through your lower belly. “Choso,” you started, but the words caught in your throat as soon as he glanced down at you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand continued from behind your ear and migrated to cup your face, pulling you closer to him. You glanced at his lips, heart practically pounding out of your chest. Before your lips could connect, he paused. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered breathily. He’d never forgive himself if he was making you uncomfortable with his advances.

Rather than answer, you mirrored his actions, cupping his face and pulling him closer, finally pressing your lips against his soft ones. He inhaled roughly, but melted against you as he returned the kiss. He licked the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. 

But it wasn’t enough. Not for Choso. His hands moved to grip your hips and pull you into his lap. Now straddling him, you could feel how hard he was beneath you. You gasped into his mouth, and as soon as you did you regretted it. Choso pulled away from you, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. You wouldn't want Yuji to wake up and see us, would you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide and pleading for him to keep going. He mockingly pouted at you, but it morphed into a patronizing grin, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He leaned in and licked a stripe from the base of your neck all the way to just below your ear. You shivered in his grasp, and he chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He blew on the wet stripe, pleased at the way your body reacted so deliciously to the stimulation, your hands balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. But you stayed quiet. He hummed. “Good girl. Let’s go somewhere you can be a little louder. What d’ya say? I want to hear all those pretty sounds.”

You nodded fervently, not trusting your voice at the moment for fear that you’d disturb Yuji. Choso tutted at you, and nipped at your earlobe. The sudden sharp pain caused you to wince, but it was quickly forgotten as Choso placed feather-light kisses along your jawline before returning where he started, his soft voice tickling the shell of your ear. “Come on, baby, use your words. I need to hear you say it. Need to hear you say you want me to fuck you.”

You were about to assert that yes, you wanted this, wanted him, but you hesitated, wondering what Yuji would think if he ever found out.

He could see the indecision in your eyes, that you were unsure if you truly wanted to continue this or not. He pulled away from you, terrified that he had overstepped and you were just too scared to stop him. “If you don’t want this-”

“No!” you cut him off. “I do. I really want this. I’m just worried about what Yuji will think when or if he finds out and mmH-” Choso smashed his lips against yours, effectively silencing every racing thought as all you could focus on was the way his tongue intertwined with yours and how good his hands felt as they smoothed up and down your waist.

He reluctantly pulled away before he completely lost himself to bliss. “God, you're just too perfect.” His eyes scanned up and down your heaving body, which was tense with anticipation. All it took was the soft “please” falling from your kiss-swollen lips to have Choso groaning, all of his restraint crumbling within him. Your hips gyrating over his was just the nail in his coffin. He slid his hands from where they rested on your hips down your thighs, smoothly lifting you up with him as he stood from the couch. From over his shoulder you could see your best friend still sleeping peacefully in the recliner, none the wiser that the relationship between his best friend and older brother was about to be forever changed.

A pang of guilt went through you, but was smothered by the overwhelming lust and attraction you had been harboring for Choso since the first moment you saw him. What Yuji didn’t know wouldn't kill him, right?

You lost sight of Yuji as Choso entered his room, using his foot to softly close the door behind him. He approached the bed and placed you atop it gently, reverently even. Seeing his face hovering above yours, having him between your legs, it felt unreal. You never even entertained the thought that your fantasies would become a reality, but now they were and it was so much better than you could have ever dreamed.

In the privacy of his room and without worrying that his brother would wake any second, Choso became bolder. He was seemingly unable to decide where to place his hands now that he finally had you under him. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and guided his hands to your chest, prompting him to cup your breasts. He got the message loud and clear, giving them each a soft squeeze. He trailed his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slid his hands under the material, pulling it above your head and tossing it to the floor of his bedroom. He returned his hands to your covered breasts, kneading them through your bra before he hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it down.

He let out a shaky breath, entranced by the vision you made beneath him, the very picture of beauty and femininity. You watched him as he drank in the sight, resisting the urge to pull him where you wanted him. Unable to resist any longer himself, Choso lowered his face to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and tweaking the other between two fingers. You gasped as he suckled at the tender flesh, and your hand flew to the back of head, winding your fingers in his dark hair. He released your nipple with a pop, and tilted his head up to see you already looking at him. “Don’t stop,” you whined, already missing the warmth of his mouth on your body.

“Don’t worry, I'm not stopping til we both feel good.” As he said that, he switched sides and continued his ministrations, dragging his free hand down to the hem of your shorts. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” You lifted your hips to aid in his efforts, and they soon joined your shirt on the floor.

Choso placed his hands on the outside of your thighs, using the thumb of one hand to toy with your clit through your panties. You moaned at his touch, his name slipping from your lips. The sweet sound of your voice was music to Choso’s ears, and he was determined to hear as much of it as possible. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing every gasp and moan, his lithe fingers bringing you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible. All too soon, he removed his hand, but you quickly realized he was true to his word and far from done as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

He chuckled against your lips, “You're so wet and I've barely done anything.”

You turned your face to the side, using one hand to cover the blush spreading across your features. As endearing as your bashfulness was, Choso wanted you to be as comfortable with him as possible. He took your wrist in his hand and pulled it from your face, instead placing it atop the painfully throbbing bulge in his pants. “You don’t need to be shy with me. I want you just as bad, if not more. Wanted you since the moment Yuji first brought you home.”

“Really?” you asked, wondering if both of you had been ignoring your feelings for each other all this time.

He nodded. “Really. Still remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing that cute little skirt with the laces in the back, and all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you in it. You’ll have to wear it for me next time, hm?”

Next time.

“Only if you put in your piercings.”

He laughed at that. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You were both there gazing at each other like fools, the distance slowly but surely closing between you. The kiss was searing, and you were abruptly reminded of the need you felt as Choso made quick work of your bra and panties, leaving you bare beneath him, despite the fact that he was fully clothed. He attached his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks that Yuji would surely see tomorrow morning, and dragged two of his fingers through your folds, gathering slick with his fingers before pushing in. You moaned at the intrusion, your walls clamping down tightly on his fingers. You could feel Choso grin against your throat as he curled his fingers into you, pulling them in and out slowly. Your gasps and moans increased in both tempo and volume until he removed his fingers altogether.

Your protests died in your throat as you saw Choso prop himself on his knees as he removed his shirt, revealing the toned body you had no idea he was hiding beneath his usually baggy tees. He removed his sweats and boxers next, his stiff cock slapping against his stomach. He resumed his position between your legs and stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushed in slowly and you would have screamed from the pleasure of him stretching you out if it wasn't for the hand that swiftly covered your mouth. “I know, baby, I know, but you can’t be too loud.”

He continued to push into you, and every time you thought you had taken all of him there was more. Just when you were sure you couldn't possibly take any more, you felt his balls press firmly against your ass. You were so full, more than you ever had been in your life.

Choso sighed as he filled you completely, the velvety softness of your walls sucking him in greedily. “Oh God you feel too good,” he whispered, the words strangled as he struggled to keep himself still, giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched the way your chest heaved up and down with every labored breath, the way your eyes were glazing over in ecstasy, and the way your sweet cunt fluttered around his cock.

He couldn't take it anymore when you thrust your own hips upwards, the involuntary movement all it took to snap Choso’s composure. He pulled out almost completely, before sinking back in a single thrust. The way your cunt swallowed him so eagerly had him on cloud nine. How had he gone for so long without knowing the bliss that was being inside you.

His cock continued to drill in and out of you, his grunts of pleasure mixing with your moans. The delicious sounds you made spurred him on, and he quickened his movements. He no longer cared if Yuji heard. Let him. Let him know how good Choso made you feel. You were his best friend, but as of now you were also Choso’s girl.

You felt yourself going stupid with the pleasure of having him inside you, his name the only word you were capable of saying. He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything to feel you clench around him as he brought you to the height of pleasure. He brought his hand down to rub circles against your clit, doing his damndest to make this the best you’ve ever had. “C’mon, baby, cum for me. You can do it. Cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.”

Those words were all it took to have you falling over the edge, pussy clenching tightly around Choso, whose own orgasm was triggered by yours. He moaned loudly, feeling too good to worry about volume. He continued to thrust into you as you each rode out your highs, his cum leaking out around him with every push into your used hole.

As soon as the waves of pleasure died out, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Your pants mixed together as he lay with his head on your chest. You brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he hummed at your soft touch.

You continued to do so until he propped himself up on his elbows, his face mere inches from yours. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asked nervously.

A broad smile spread across your face, ecstatic that he wanted more from you than just sex. “I’d love to.”

A smile of his own mirrored yours as he surged forward to capture your lips with his own, the happiness exuding from him almost palpable. When he broke the kiss, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling you into his chest as he did so. With Choso’s arms wrapped securely around you, you both drifted off in the comfort of each other’s presence, unaware that it was the exact position a younger brother incapable of knocking would find you in in the morning.

#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ YOU LOOK SO PRETTY / PRETTY LIKE THE SUN

sweet moments with fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuuta

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), first jjk reaction post !! this was so hard to write ngl, header from pinterest, title from tom odell - black friday

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI is in love with you.

dusk is filled with golden rays and city lights. you walk side-by-side with megumi in a comfortable silence. these quiet moments with you had always been rare but cherished moments - a small amount of time when you both could finally breathe. 

years of fighting curses had taken its toll on you. with death always just one wrong move away, megumi had grown accustomed to cherishing the little moments with you: when you made him coffee in the morning before he woke up; when you waited at his bedside after he was injured in a fight; when you forcefully put some of your food on his plate after noticing that he wasn’t eating enough.

megumi had never grown up with a view of a real romantic relationship - all of his experience came from side plots in manga and being dragged into watching movies with yuuji - but he was smart enough to realize why his heart beat so fast around you. why he blushed so easily when your hand brushed against his. why he desperately wanted more.

megumi stops when you pause in your steps, stretching out your shoulders. a content sigh escapes you as you look out towards the shore. “the sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?” you say, your eyes trained on the hues of pink and blue filling the sky. 

megumi glances at the skyline, only taking in the sight momentarily before he turns back to you. all the beautiful things he’s heard about “golden hour” seem to come true. the sun peeks out from behind various buildings, illuminating your silhouette. you softly smile as you look up at the clouds above.

“yeah,” he smiles; his gaze remains trained on you. “beautiful.”

fushiguro megumi is in love with you. now, he just has to tell you.

ITADORI YUUJI is - surprisingly - not a bad cook. over his months at jujutsu high, he had become the unofficial chef in the dorms. so when you fell ill, it was no surprise when he took on the responsibility of nursing you back to health.

your body is little more than a mound of blankets when yuuji creeps into your room; a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. he moves with the utmost care as he makes his way across the room before setting the bowl down on your bedside table. despite your puffy eyes and red-tipped nose he smiles, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair away from your face.

you stir awake at his touch before slowly blinking up at him. “hi y/n,” yuuji whispers. “feeling any better?”

he receives a groan in response. “i feel like death,” you rasp out. 

yuuji reaches over, resting the back of his hand against your forehead. “you’re still really warm,” he mumbles. “i don’t think your fever has gone down at all.”

his cheeks flush slightly when you reach over, taking his hand into your own. your skin is overly warm and slightly clammy, but yuuji doesn’t mind. instead, he intertwines your hands together. 

“here,” he says, using his free hand to hold up a spoonful of the soup he made. “try it. maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

the metal spoon burns your tongue and the broth is a little too salty, but it soothes your throat all the same. “thank you,” you murmur. “it’s delicious.”

yuuji simply smiles brightly, holding out yet another spoonful for you. “of course.”

“do you know japanese sign language?”

INUMAKI TOGE stares at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden question. it shouldn’t have been all that surprising, but it was something no one had bothered to ask before. 

finally, after a short period of silence, he nods. “salmon.”

toge had grown accustomed to being left out. even while around the most supportive people, he often found himself struggling to be heard - both literally and metaphorically. after all, it was difficult to communicate with others through origini ingredients. 

that didn’t make it any less hurtful, though. 

you smile brightly, hesitantly signing along to your words as you speak. “i’ve been practicing a little. i wanted to surprise you.”

toge’s face flushes; his jacket does little to hide the way his blush spreads across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. your movements are a little sloppy and you’re clearly nervous, but he doesn’t comment on it. no one had ever put in this much effort to speak to him before. to not only listen, but understand what he means. 

“thank you,” he signs in return. he pauses for a second, hesitating slightly before he continues. “i love you.”

“i don’t think i know that one.” toge simply smiles, leaning in to pull you into a kiss. he’ll tell you what it means soon enough. but for now, his flushed cheeks and soft smile tell you everything he means to say.

the safest place in the world is within OKKOTSU YUUTA’S arms. you can’t remember when it became a routine for the two of you. he would return home and immediately seek you out; his fingers curl around your waist and tug you closer until your back reaches his chest. 

a soft sigh escapes his lips as he rests his chin against your shoulder. the pieces of your bodies fit together like a puzzle - from the way yuuta intertwines his fingers with your own to how seamlessly his arms wrap around you. 

messy strands of ink black hair brush against the side of your neck when yuuta nuzzles himself even closer against you. his breath ghosts against your shoulder as he leans down, pressing a few lazy kisses over the fabric of your shirt. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too.” your fingertips trace along little cuts and deep bruises decorating yuuta’s hands. “do they hurt?”

he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. it feels trivial to be in pain over such minor injuries, but yuuta has never been the best liar. “only a little,” he murmurs.

you frown slightly, raising your intertwined hands up to your lips. the soft kisses you press against the fresh wounds leave him breathless. with a flushed face and a soft smile, yuuta presses a chaste kiss against your cheek in return. “thank you.”

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[sarahghetti]

moving day; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how marc and steven learn to live together, how you come to live with them, and how jake finally lets himself live at all.

warnings: basically a BIG character study into our boys, fluff, hurt and comfort, angst, insecurity, mentions of marc's childhood, mentions of violence, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

word count: 9.9k

notes: this one got away from me and might also be the best thing I've ever written (i'm very proud of it 😭). part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'is that my shirt?'”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Even though it was (and still is) under Marc’s name, the flat was Steven’s first. Marc just helped set it up a little.

He rented out the first decent unit he found in the city and kept every piece of mismatched furniture the previous tenant left behind. The essentials had to be filled in himself—a bed, couch, and desk. A table to go with that rickety stool to eat meals on, a coat rack near the doorway. The only belongings of his own that Marc left behind were his old Egyptology texts, unceremoniously shoved into a corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that he hoped Steven would like.

(The fish was unexpected, though. Steven already had everything he would need, and it was Marc’s mistake to be scrolling through Facebook Marketplace on one of his last days before he handed it all over to his alter. A complete aquarium set was being offered for next to nothing; attached: a photo of the original poster’s late goldfish. Backlit from the tank light, blank faced and innocent.

He just couldn’t move on.)

But it was Steven who then took Marc’s—their—card and ran with it. Every free surface was prime real estate for another journal, another tomb. The used bookstores of London never stood a chance; it was almost impressive to watch him scour the shelves for the most esoteric topics and still come out with his arms full of what he was looking for. Marc would wake up in the body to find Steven’s collection a little bigger than before and ghost his fingers over the spines during those brief moments of respite before having to put on the suit.

It didn’t stop at the books. Of course, it didn’t. Steven’s always had an affinity for oddities. Marc wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the new paper lantern hung over the living room, or the pumpkin-esque footstool that was coloured as though it was plucked off the vine just a tad too early.

The pieces were quaint at best. If there were any psychological meaning as to why his alter gravitated towards dingy, threadbare upholstery instead of an IKEA like a normal person, it was beyond Marc.

However, he couldn’t not admit that it all kind of worked once put together; the clashing mix of materials and colours sort of became its own style when combined under the wooden rafters. Even when the books started overfilling the storage capacity and ended up in piles on the floor—it only added to the charm.

Marc was sure to erase every trace of his presence around the flat to avoid interfering with Steven’s life, but that didn’t stop the sense of longing to return to their—Steven’s—home during missions.

It was still a mess. A mess where everything has its place, yes, but there was no way that Steven could trip over several odds-and-ends in one day and claim that he was any degree of neat or tidy. Marc silently griped to himself about it all the time, but he’d sooner eat that dusty-ass rug Steven got for free before he saw anything get thrown away.

(It was like this back when they were kids, too. Marc’s childhood bedroom in Chicago—a room he never finds himself thinking about outside of his nightmares—was filled with joy. Medals from peewee baseball. Posters from his favourite movies, carefully smoothened out and taped to the walls by his dad. Drawings by him and Randall piled at the corner of his desk.

Right after the—the accident, all his stuff remained, immortalized in place. As if keeping everything the same would somehow also make Marc’s life the same as it was before, and Randall would come bursting through his door at any moment to ask him to come play. It was an overarching belief in their household. Even on her worst days, his mother’s anger never touched their home. Only him.

But then things began to change. His old action figures, collecting dust, would be strewn about the floor, waiting for someone to continue the battle. A collection of particularly smooth rocks began appearing on his windowsill despite the fact that he hadn’t gone outside in days. He’d wake up to grass-stained jeans and a scraped knee which Marc didn’t know how he got, for once.

Steven has always been like a crow, bringing all these little gifts for Marc to enjoy—these signs of life—even when he wasn’t aware of it.)

-

Coming back from Cairo feels like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was, but after the dust settled on Harrow and Layla decided to return stateside alone—a decision that seemed a long time coming, if Steven’s being honest—there was nothing else to do other than to go home.

They have one blissful, uninterrupted day of sleep. Steven was the one to wake up sixteen hours later, mouth dry, and instinctively panicked at the thought of losing days again before realizing that Marc was also (and still is) out cold.

When he finally woke up a few hours later, half-asleep even in the reflection of the mirror, Steven couldn’t help himself from asking, “What now, Marc?”

Because Marc was the original. Marc was the one with a real life and legal status. He might never want to walk the streets of Chicago again, but that didn’t change the fact that he only came overseas to run away. Everything around them was a temporary measure.

Marc straightens. “I won’t bother you too much, I promise.”

“You still have your own life,” Steven reminds him.

“Still—”

“Oh, don’t start—”

At least they agreed on one thing: they were going to stay in London.

Marc cleans out his storage unit, bringing home an array of bins and duffel bags and that shitty fold-up cot that he still refuses to toss. Steven immediately got him his own dresser when Marc tried to insist that he ‘didn’t have much’; that was a blaring warning that he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial, and Steven had to put his foot down before a nearby charity got a donation of some well-loved button-downs.

It’s almost funny, how predicable Marc was when unpacking. Steven watched as he pushed all their new furniture against the walls then methodically unpacked bin by bin, stacking the empties inside one another like Russian dolls. Like Steven, everything he owned had a place, even after months spent stored away. Marc was just a lot more neat about it.

“Move my stuff if you want,” Steven pipes up. Marc doesn’t react, only continuing to store his notebooks on top of a filing cabinet. “Really, I’ve already read everything on that middle shelf there—we can put them somewhere else.”

Marc glances around the bookshelves. “Aren’t these alphabetized?”

“Well, mostly, but give me an hour or two and I’ll free up some space.”

It’s like a puzzle, and Steven’s always liked puzzles. Marc’s gone quiet in their head, out of excuses as to why he can just shove all his belongings out-of-sight so that Steven wouldn’t have to go through the effort. Now, if he would just believe Steven, then he’d know that reorganizing his books was hardly any effort at all.

And even if it was—he’s been meaning to do this for a while. An alphabetized collection is great until he gets a new book, because then everything has to be shifted over, and—well. There’s a reason why there were so many books languishing on the floor.

They pass off the body like that for the rest of the day, moving things around in the flat in order to accommodate Marc. It looks no less hectic in the end, despite Marc’s best efforts to tidy up a little, but it also doesn’t look any worse, which Steven sees as a win.

There are still so many things they need to talk about. Scheduling, routines, the fact that they’re currently both out of a job—either one would be lying if they said that this new life didn’t make them a bit nervous. But when Marc finally flops down onto their bed, a movement as easy as breathing, the pieces begin to settle into place. The last of his bins have been put away. His jacket hangs beside Steven’s as if it’s always been there.

In the headspace, Steven beams. Whatever comes, however hard—they’ll face it together.

.

.

.

Somehow, Steven wakes up one day and feels great.

There are a few minutes more until his alarm goes off, but he turns it off early. The usual grogginess that accompanies him this early is completely absent, and he rolls up to a seated position without a single mental or physical protest. He feels so good, in fact, that he even considers skipping his morning cup of tea.

(He doesn’t, of course. They quickly figured out—well, Steven did, Marc already knew—that they differed in their caffeinated beverages of choice. Steven, a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold with a healthy splash of milk and a teaspoon or two of sugar. Marc, a simple drip coffee, black, made from the most generic-looking brand of medium roast beans.

Not to say that he wishes to be separate from Marc or anything of the sort, but Steven imagines his feelings to be like that of a sibling who was always dressed in matching clothes as his brother. Marc might’ve graced Steven with an interest in Egyptology from his mercenary work and Gus from his—their?—brother’s drawing a lifetime ago, but as far as they know, his preference for tea was just a quirk.

Steven likes having something just for him.)

Marc had the body last night—he must’ve gone to bed early. Must’ve drank camomile tea and avoided blue light the entire time he was fronting because Steven could run a marathon like this and still go into work afterwards. He’s about to ask Marc for his secret when he spots an unfamiliar rumple of fabric on the pillow where he laid his head.

“What’s this now?” Steven murmurs, gathering the soft material in his hands. A woman’s sweater, obviously, with its feminine cut and style and faintly sweet scent that short-circuits his brain for a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize how it got inside their flat, what with how there’s a whole other person living in his head, and it would explain the strange marks he found on his neck the other day—

Heat blooms in his face and Steven nearly drops the sweater back onto the pillow in embarrassment. Distantly, he knows that he should’ve seen this coming. Marc is Marc; Steven’s witnessed the quiet confidence the man extrudes from inside their headspace and the resulting, ah, attention it attracts.

In the corner of his eye, his reflection stills. Steven doesn’t even bother turning around—just holds up the offending sweater and asks, “Fun night?”

Marc, strangely, is quiet. It’s not like he’s one to talk about his romantic pursuits, but Steven at least expected a dry comment or two. He shakes the sweater like a bag of treats until Marc scowls. “Stop that.”

“Not judging,” Steven says, “but don’t suppose you got a number? Should I make a run to the donation bin for you?”

“No.” There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, and he purses his lips when he realizes that he responded a little too fast; Steven’s questioning look is pointedly ignored. “Just leave it on my desk for now.”

“Is she coming back or is this just like a—” Steven makes an ambiguous gesture, full of innuendo “—thing for you?”

“What? No—what?”

“Okay, okay,” Steven finally lets up because the groove between his alter’s eyebrows has become something fierce. He slips out of bed to place the sweater on Marc’s desk as requested, then throws one more comment over his shoulder for good measure, “Bring her home for dinner one day, would you?”

“Steven!”

-

“Is that my shirt?” You move towards the armchair, a smile tugging at your lips as you pick up the folded garment. It’s been freshly laundered. Marc wouldn’t burden you if he could help it.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t stir from his seat on the couch, tracking your movements with fondness in his eyes. You’ve been to their place plenty over the past few months and quietly, he relishes in the domesticity.

They’re simple things, like knowing your preferred spoon in their drawer or how you like your toast; the ease in which you curl into the cushions next to him—your spot, he can’t help but note—draws a contented little sigh from him. “

You know, if you want me to do your laundry, you can just ask.”

He would. Steven would prod endlessly as he does with all things related to you, but Marc’s managed to get this far with vague explanations and stubborn hand-waving. He’d endure the nosiness if it were for you.

“Although,” he continues, giving you a once-over. His eyebrow quirks at the familiar cotton long-sleeve enveloping your torso. “I’m not even sure you have laundry anymore.”

“Well, maybe if your clothes weren’t so comfortable, I’d stop stealing them,” you tease.

(His clothes aren’t boring, Steven, just—utilitarian. Between Khonshu and his mercenary work, Marc needed plain, flexible pieces; ones that made him blend in anywhere and ready for anything. Nothing that he could get too attached too, either. Everything he wore was at risk of getting ruined by grime and/or blood and/or tearing from various weapons. Of course, he doesn’t own anything ‘nice.’

Not like Steven. Not with his hodgepodge closet filled with colours and patterns, everything just a tad too large on their frame. Marc groans about it every time he takes over in the middle of the day—just a size down, just one. But the issue is that Steven likes it like that, likes the comfort and roominess he finds in his thrifted pieces, and so Marc dropped it as a serious topic, even though he still doesn’t quite get it.)

“This why you had to wear my jacket the other day?”

Steven’s sudden appearances don’t phase Marc anymore, even when you’re around. He just gives him a slight nod without missing a beat. “At this rate, I won’t have any clothes left for you to take.”

“Guess I’ll just have to borrow something from Steven then, hm?”

Before Marc can even begin to think about what to say to that— “I think my white jumper would suit her really well.”

He shoots a glare into a nearby mirror and just barely catches a glimpse of Steven’s grin in the reflection. Part of him wants to tell Steven to stop hitting on his girlfriend, but hesitates when you look at him expectantly, still waiting for his response.

He’s not ashamed of Steven, far from it. Still, a sliver of self-consciousness worms its way into his chest at the thought of talking to him in front of you. He’s done it before, but—he knows how it can look.

You’re more perceptive than he’d like. Marc sees the moment when it clicks in your head. “Is he here right now?”

Excitement bleeds into your voice. You’ve been wanting to meet Steven for a while. Marc showing up to a date with tousled curls and a colourfully-printed button-up instead of his usual streamlined style, a slew of scribbled papers piled onto the armchair you like to lounge on, a sticky note left on one of your books (‘oooh good choice! x’)—all these things that sent panic strumming through his veins were only ever endearing to you, for some reason. It’s lessened his worry by orders of magnitude.

Still. Letting you meet Steven is one step closer to talking about his childhood. His mom. His brother. He’s given you a high- high-level view of things (“It wasn’t great.”), but the thought of going any further makes his throat tighten. There’s a whole failed marriage that proves his inability to be vulnerable.

So, it must truly be a bout of madness that makes him say, “The white one.”

“What?”

“What?”

“The white sweater,” Marc continues, because he’s already thrown himself off the bridge—there’s no use trying to backtrack now. “He says you’d look good in his white sweater.”

Your face slowly morphs into an expression of pure joy; you do nothing short of jump off the couch to bolt to their bedroom. Steven chatters excitedly in his ear, only pausing momentarily when you slip off Marc’s shirt.

“Oh! Um! She’s—she’s very—wow—" Marc feels the strangest urge to punch himself in the face again—

—And then you reappear into their field of view, a dream in fine knit. Steven’s sweater be damned, your beaming smile is more than enough to render them both speechless.

“How do I look?”

The sweater isn’t his, but it stirs the same syrupy feelings in Marc anyway. You’ve spoken about it before—and him privately with Steven—where Steven stands in your relationship with Marc. All he’s ever let himself hope for was for you and Steven to be cordial, maybe even friends. Of course, he’d have to actually let you guys speak to each other for any of that to be possible, but you two seem to have grown comfortable with each other regardless.

Now, he sees you in Steven’s clothes and his thoughts run rampant. Ours. He tests out the word and his heart skips a beat. It’s always been a possibility; one you all were open to if it ever happened. But he could never ask either of you to try to love each other on his behalf.

God, that word does something stupid to his brain—Steven’s rattling off compliments and other things of his you should try on and invites to go thrifting—and Marc just sits there, dumbfounded by his own hypothetical scenario. “Come on, Marc, say something!”

You move to stand in front of him, and his thighs part automatically to have you close. It takes your hand on his cheek, gentle as you stroke your thumb over his skin, to pull him back to reality. “You okay?”

“You look incredible.” His voice dips in the way he knowsmakes your stomach swoop, and is promptly rewarded with your flustered smile. The moment doesn’t last—not with Steven cooing in his ear over you.

A pang of possessiveness runs through Marc. That smile was for him, thank you very much.

His mouth works faster than his brain. “Steven has something to tell you.”

You light up. “Really?”

“Wants to tell you himself, actually.”

Steven splutters, nerves coming on in full force. Marc bites his tongue to keep a straight face. “Well, now, hang on a minute—”

Steven’s introduction was always going to be a well-thought-out but casual event, as to not make a circus out of it. It was just who they were, after all. They wouldn’t switch in front of you—Steven would change into his wardrobe and ‘do’ his hair beforehand; Marc worried it might be too much for you to see him but hear Steven. He would’ve prepped you both plenty in the preceding days, regardless of how necessary it was.

It definitely would not be the stunt he’s pulling right now.

Your eyes narrow at the placid look on his face, too casual to not be suspicious, but meeting Steven must outweigh the want to catch Marc in the act of whatever he’s planning because you don’t call him out, hands frozen on his face. It’s cute, watching you struggle between overt enthusiasm and not wanting to pressure them into anything.

Marc would even enjoy it a little longer if it weren’t for the confused and alarmed word vomit spilling out in his head.

“Stop messing about—I mean, it’s not—not odd, yeah? For me to front a little? Just a little chat, can’t be all that bad. Please be messing with me, but I can do it, s’not a big deal. Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever—oh, boy."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Marc quiets him with a steady glance into the mirror. “You sure, buddy?”

Slightly shrill but no less serious, “Are you sure, Marc?”

And then Marc’s fun little charade teeters on its head—is he ready for this? You and Steven wouldn’t hold it against him if he pulled the plug on it all right now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. The band-aid has to come off, lest he lets this fester for the length of another relationship.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his flare of panic comforted by the patience in your eyes. More confidently this time, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steven’s smile is clear in his voice. It mirrors your own.

“About time, innit?”

-

Moving into their flat isn’t a decision you make all at once, but rather a slow, steady conclusion that you’ve been unintentionally working towards ever since you first visited.

The clothes were just the start. It’s not like you didn’t have perfectly good clothes before you met Marc, but his were just better somehow. Soft and simple, all in that neutral colour scheme he seemed to gravitate towards. The warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric, making you want to bury your nose into the garments and go right back to the source—

You just couldn’t help yourself from borrowing something whenever you came over.

(That pleased, half-lidded gaze you receive each time you slip on his shirt, or his heated touch whenever he drapes his jacket over your shoulders during chilly morning afters—well. Those are just a bonus.)

So, maybe you left a shirt or two behind in the process. And maybe you realized that you should probably have a pair of sweatpants there as well, and a good book to read during quiet nights in. Once, you forgot your toothbrush only for Marc to pull out an extra from their medicine cabinet; now you have a toothbrush in their bathroom.

After you finally met Steven and his adorable, eclectic self—all bets were off. You bond while scouring vintage shops and finding new pieces for the flat. A little basket of throw blankets gets added to the living room (always neatly sorted by Marc, without fail). Candles—tall and stout, festive and fruity and spiced—start to litter the shelves. A particularly good haul at a used bookstore, a bit heavy for you to carry home, is instead slotted amongst their collection; the contemporary fonts and colourful covers are a stark contrast against the yellowing older texts, and you love it.

Your fingerprints are all over the place by the time Marc officially empties some space in his dresser for you, uncharacteristically avoiding your eyes as he speaks, “Just in case you wanted to keep some more stuff here.”

You were already using their closets before then (in both the storing-your-clothes sense and the stealing-their-clothes sense); you’ve practically taken over one of his drawers. But to give you one outright, to admit that he’s carved out some space just for you instead of silently accommodating your things as he always has—

“Thank you, Marc,” you whisper, brimming with emotion that you wonder if you’ll ever be able to fully express. He’ll flit about and clean and care for you because words will never capture the depth of his feelings. You see this for what it is, like all the gestures that have come before: a declaration.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and press a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

It’s not much long after when Steven comes home from work grinning like a madman, one hand held behind his back. He beelines towards you, not even bothering to put his bag down.

“Hey, you.” You peck his lips and feel his smile stretch impossibly wider. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The words come out in a rush. “Havesomethingforyou.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.” You can’t help but laugh a little as you follow the direction; Steven’s excitement is utterly infectious. “Okay, now hold out your hand.”

“If you give me a bug, I swear to God—”

“I would never.” His seriousness is a bit too heavy-handed, and you get a feeling you’re going to need to be on guard for a while.

You’re distracted, however, by the brush of his skin as he places something small and rigid into your palm. The metal is warm from being clasped inside his hand, but the shape is so familiar that you recognize what it is immediately.

“You can open—”

You’re already looking down—at the silver key to the flat nestled in your hand. Lonesome without the Koala plushie on Steven’s keyring, without the little charm you got for Marc’s—no, it’s meant to be your copy.

“We were thinking, right,” he starts before your heart has the opportunity to beat right out your chest, “Marc and I—well, you’re here with us most of the time. You should have your own key. Beats having to come grab mine from the museum, right?”

You let out a choked little laugh, too caught up to remind him that the only reason why you went to the museum was because else he would’ve dropped everything to deliver the keys himself. Spent his entire break and then some to commute back home so that you wouldn’t have to wait for his shift to be over, even though you could’ve amused yourself just fine outside until then.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to get out before stepping forward, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steven’s love is unbridled; he holds you close, going on about how glad he is—how glad they both are—to have you, how he was practically bouncing off the walls at the locksmith, waiting for the key to be cut.

They’ve been your home for so long now that while the new addition onto your keyring makes you giddy and smile stupidly whenever you get to use it, it also just feels right. You go grocery shopping with Marc and watch him scrutinize apples like they personally offended him. Steven tangles your legs together as you wind down in the evenings, and always always smiles whenever he catches you looking at him. You rank the restaurants around the neighbourhood and line your favourite mugs beside each other on the shelf; you sit in the comforting quiet of the flat and wonder how you got so lucky.

When it’s eventually time to renew your lease, there’s no decision to be made. You’re relieved from dinner prep to write the email to your landlord on their couch. It’s sent off with no fanfare and quickly forgotten about when Marc’s voice rings out, asking what you want to eat.

“Anything,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips; he hates it when you say that. Marc grumbles a little, but you mean it this time. You have them and they have you. Curled up in one of Steven’s sweaters, Marc’s playlist on low in the background—anything is just fine by you.

.

.

.

You are the bane of Jake’s existence.

First, you meet Marc. Terrible. Khonshu is riding his ass about a mission in Liverpool—they’ve now been geolocked to stay under the radar—and Marc plans a date. An actual, Godforsaken date with a set time, throwing a wrench into their plans because Steven’s been scheduled to work on the surrounding days as well. How is he supposed to sneak off to the other side of the country now?

Even worse, you stick around. There are more dates between the two of you. For how much he hates texting, Marc responds promptly whenever you send him something. He frets over what to wear before picking you up. You stay over at the flat and he holds you in his sleep like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; Jake has been unluckily enough to wake up in the middle of the night, planning to slip away, only to be hit with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Then—and then—Marc has the bright idea to introduce you to Steven. The hope that this is just a casual, temporary thing is dashed away the second Jake sees that lovesick expression on the idiota. It’s more overt than Marc’s, but still the same blaring warning sign that Jake’s life is only about to get harder from here.

Keeping a low profile has become incredibly difficult since the others decided to be normal. Marc never questioned whenever Jake took over in a tight spot, too hyped up on adrenaline and too stubborn about their condition to follow up on his blackouts after the fight was done. Steven was clueless about everything for those first few months, then just blamed his blackouts on Marc.

But now? They talk to each other. They have a year-long calendar on the fridge with a magnetic pen holder to keep track of their schedules, colour-coded blue (for Marc) and green (for Steven). They’ve gotten distracted and added another consciousness for Jake to deceive in order to do his thing. He can’t take the body for more than a few hours, and certainly not by force, without drawing suspicion.

Jake’s happy for them. Really, he is. They’ve finally begun to move on from the trauma of their childhood into something that resembles a normal life. Steven’s gotten rehired at the museum as a tour guide. Marc’s taken up security consulting. And despite their respective anxiousness and ten-foot-walls, you bring them peace.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Khonshu’s avatar now. That a lifetime ago, when the work began to wear down on Marc in all the worst ways, Jake was the one who cut a deal with the god for his release. All he had to do was take his place.

(Foresight might not be his strong suit, but he refuses to take responsibility for what happened next. He could never have imagined all the puppetry that’d occur with Layla in the mix, or that they’d actually divorce one of these days and end up with someone new.

Except this time, you know about their system and not about Khonshu. He wonders how well you’d take that whole mess.)

In short—Marc and Steven still need him. He can’t just up and disappear into the recesses of their mind; he has a job to do.

So, when Steven presses that fucking key into your hand, Jake’s so frustrated he could scream. Unfettered access to the flat—as if you weren’t there enough already. As if he weren’t already jumping through every hoop imaginable, just to keep his existence a secret. He would’ve made them drop the copy down the nearest gutter on the way home if he didn’t know that they would simply go right back to the locksmith and ask for another.

Steven watches as you slip it onto your keychain; that all-encompassing, vibrant burst of joy in their chest be damned—you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jake, even if you might be the best thing to ever happen to them.

-

Steven had the flat, Marc had his storage unit, and Jake?

Jake has his car.

Multiple, actually, but the limousine is the legal one (thanks for your identity, Marc) and serves as his homebase. Supplies are stashed in compartments around the cabin—weapons, clothes, cash—and with its heavily tinted windows, he can do anything he wants inside and passersby would be none the wiser. When Khonshu’s booming voice echoes around his brain about some new target, at least Jake can recline into a soft leather seat.

The only issue is that he can’t keep everything there. No, the parking garage is a fair distance away from the flat and sometimes, he doesn’t have the opportunity to make the trip before setting off. This means that he has to keep a change of clothes in the flat to avoid accidentally ruining some of Steven’s or Marc’s. He’d never actually wear anything of Steven’s to begin with (at least, not on a mission), but Marc’s wardrobe is minimal by choice—if something went missing or got a new, unexplained hole in it, he’d notice.

That’s why Jake is currently slinking through their living room, ready to change back into Steven’s pajamas before hiding his clothes on the loft above their bed. Nothing up there but empty bins and poster tubes. Marc regularly dusts the area during his monthly deep cleans, so Jake doesn’t even have to worry about leaving behind any tracks.

It was an easy job tonight, done in little less than an hour and not a speck on Jake to show for it. He could take a shower if he wanted—you’re staying over at a friend’s place right now, as noted in red on the calendar. But he shouldn’t keep the body for longer than necessary; they still need sleep, after all.

He slips off his flat cap, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. God, they’re getting old. Even this stolen hour will be felt by whoever wakes up in the morning, slightly slower and groggier than usual.

(Jake doesn’t think about the future—has never needed to. The only future that exists to him is the next minute, and the minute after that, and what he has to do to ensure the body makes it there. Him and Marc were similar in that aspect for a long, long time.

That calendar on the fridge, while helpful to his vigilantism, stirs something uncomfortable in his gut. He’s seen them flip through the months to mark down birthdays and reservations. Vacations, work events—Marc’s going on a completely normal, non-violent work trip, which Jake still can’t quite wrap his head around—and it’s all so far ahead.

How can they be so sure that nothing will change between now and then? That their life won’t blow up again, and force them on the run? Everything they add is just another handful of salt to be pressed into the wound when it all goes to hell. But they still write things on that stupid calendar. Confident, excited even, about the plans they think will come to pass.

How do they know?)

There’s a rustling in the bedroom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—

“Marc?”

You shift a little under the covers, trying to peer at him through the darkness. Jake’s never been more grateful for Marc’s sensible taste in fashion; with only a silhouette to go by, of course you’d mistake him for Marc—straight-cut jeans, a collared jacket. His flat cap would tip you off though, and he presses it into his chest to hide it from your line of sight. Marc would never wear a flat cap.

He forces a casual tone. “Hm?”

A small sigh of relief escapes you as your head falls back onto the pillow. Still watching him, though, you mumble, “Bad dream?”

You know about Marc’s time in the military and as a mercenary. Not everything, obviously, but enough. Jake nods, and can imagine the worried purse of your lips in the shadows. In the best impression he can manage, his accent turns Chicagoan. “Just had to take a walk.”

If he were really Marc, he’d already be in bed by now, letting you brush curls away from his face and press a kiss against the furrow of his brow. If he were really Marc, he’d ask you why you were back here instead of with your friends as expected, and you’d talk things out until dozing off in a tangle of limbs, comforted by each other’s presence.

But Jake’s not Marc. He brushes off the subtle tightening of his chest as just a lingering remnant from his alters. The body knows you, even if Jake doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

You whine, a sleepy and pitiful but inviting noise from the back of your throat as he continues to stand in the living room. Alarm bells go off in his head; he has to placate you before you get up and try to drag him over yourself.

“Just need to change,” he says, soft and low, warmth injected into every word. Nausea courses through him, to his own confusion, as he continues to play Marc. This should be easier—he’s been hiding for as long as he can remember. This is probably the tamest thing he’s done to keep his cover. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

He takes two steps towards the kitchen then stops, feigning—feigning something, fuck if he knows—waiting for your breathing to level out again. Silence falls over the flat, but Jake’s mouth runs dry.

There’s no way you don’t bring this up to them in the morning, and there’s no way they won’t immediately suspect another alter. They know he exists, have seen the aftermath of when he fronts. It’s only his secrecy that has kept them off his back for this long, and it will all come crashing down in a few hours.

For better or for worse, he’ll have to meet the others soon.

-

Marc will never tire of waking up beside you. Even though there’s a heaviness weighing him down, body aching for just a few more minutes, he pushes through because you’re already awake. With one hand on his chest, the other tracing over his jaw—the small, lazy smile on your face has already made his day.

You turned over while he was asleep, but his arm is still slung over your waist; he pulls you closer to press a kiss onto your forehead. Lips moving against your skin, “Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” you murmur. “Feel better?”

Mind hazy from sleep, Marc doesn’t question the odd wording. He just let’s himself settle into the lingering fatigue, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter shut again. “M’tired. Stay with me a little longer?”

Concern laces your tone. “Was the dream that bad?”

That breaks through to him. He peers at you curiously, more alert than before. “What do you mean?”

You blink, confused. “Your nightmare last night. You left to take a walk?”

Marc sits up, furrowing his brow. Reality seeps in, and he checks the date on his phone. Aren’t you supposed to be—? “I thought you were staying over at a friend’s place.”

“I was going to, but she had a family emergency—I came back here around three. Don’t worry, they walked me home,” you explain with a soft pat of your hand at the end. That—that is one mystery solved, and he is glad to hear that you weren’t walking alone at night, but his shoulders remain taut with tension. His mind gets caught on a detail.

“Three?” He’s a light sleeper, he would’ve woken up when you came into bed. But—your words replay in his mind. He wasn’t here when that happened, was he? “I went on a walk?”

His stress begins to spill over to you, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, fiddling at the blankets. “Um, yeah. We spoke a little when you came back—I was already in bed, remember?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, and the words die in this throat. Marc does not, in fact, remember. He apparently went outside in the middle of the night, long enough for you to come home and settle in without him, then had a whole conversation upon return—and none of it is familiar to him. Not even a hint of déjà vu.

He throws off the covers, on his feet in seconds despite your protests. All hisblackouts, the ones he thought were finished after traversing the Duat—

That third sarcophagus—

Is this what it was like for Steven? To wake up, not knowing what your body has done, where it’s been—if it’s hurt someone?

Marc might actually puke if he thinks about it for too long. And God, you live with them now: him, Steven, and what Marc wishes was a complete unknown. But the truth is—they aren’t an unknown. No, Marc is fully aware of what this alter is capable of.

“Oh, bugger, what’s going on?” Steven must feel his panic, reflects it in kind. He must be expecting bloodshed with how fast their heart is racing.

Marc says nothing and flings open the tri-mirror on the wall, bracing himself with both hands on the sink below. He sees himself in the center, a bull primed to fight. Steven’s to the left, so fearful he’s nearly frozen still. And to the right—

To the right—

-

So. Jake hasn’t really prepared for this situation, to be honest.

He’ll face anything head-on to keep the body safe, but imagining himself as the threat? Never crossed his mind. There’s anger in their blood, and Marc’s liable to cracking the porcelain with his grip. If looks could kill, Jake would be dead ten times over.

The few times he wondered what it would be like to actually meet Marc and Steven, the worst that could happen was that they disliked him. Unfortunate, but he’d live. He didn’t need their approval to do his job.

But through the blood rushing in their ears, he can hear you; still in bed, barely breathing as you watch everything unfold. And that’s when he remembers—

You are the bane of his existence.

Because Marc and Steven aren’t just thinking about their own self-preservation. No, now they have you to protect, and the lengths that they would go to do that, well—Jake begrudgingly has to admit that they might rival some of his own efforts for them.

He’d let them stare at themselves forever in the mirror if it weren’t for that fact. They would never give up on trying to talk to him. Steven was clever enough with the sand and tape and ankle restraint; he doesn’t want to think about what sort of traps they’d create with Marc in the mix. Jake would probably still evade them all, but they’d drive themselves crazy in their attempts.

They’ve really left him no choice. For the first time, he lets himself be seen.

-

You’ve watched Marc and Steven talk to each other plenty of times. It’s really no big deal. They’re just normal conversations where you can only hear one side, and usually taken through the nearest reflective surface.

But this? This is an interrogation. Marc slackens his jaw for just a moment before everything in him tenses again. He speaks through clenched teeth, as if barely controlling the severity of his thoughts—you can’t help but brace yourself for impact. “Who are you?”

The pause as he waits for the other alter, whoever they are, to respond is maddening. It wasn’t quite fear that gripped you when you realized that it wasn’t Marc last night—to be honest, you don’t know what to feel—but the scene in front of you has you reevaluating your initial reaction.

That initial reaction being, well—the same thing you felt when you Marc told you about Steven: curiosity. You wanted to meet Steven. Almost begged for the chance near the end. Whoever this is—

“Jake.”

The name grates itself out of Marc’s throat, and you cling to the information like a life raft.

“Jake.” You can’t help but test it out on your tongue, squinting a little as you look at your boyfriend and try to see yourself calling him that. Marc looks towards you. There’s a storm of emotions in his eyes, but there’s no time to decipher any of them—a moment later, he turns back towards the mirror with a scowl.

“Why should I believe you?” The lines on his face deepen; Marc grits his teeth so hard you yearn to hold him, but you’re frozen to the spot.

“I don’t know that. After you—” his eyes dart between you and his reflection so fast, you might’ve imagined it “—after what you’ve done?”

A wave of dread washes over you.

He’s not talking about last night.

No, Marc—Marc has interacted with Jake before, and whatever happened must’ve crossed a line. Must’ve crossed several lines because of how he’s acting right now, and you want to bury yourself under the covers, still fisted tightly in your hands.

He laughs bitterly. The sound rakes through your ears. “You call that protecting us?”

Your blood runs cold. With no real context and spiked with adrenaline, your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, connects all the worst dots.

There’s no way—

“Lay a hand on her and I swear—”

You want to run and you want to hide and you want their arms around you, assuring you of—of anything. You need to leave this building and also never go outside again, because your head begins to pound with each thought that passes through.

You can still see the worry flare in Marc’s eyes when you accidentally grabbed the handle of a hot pan, the dutiful and tender way he held your hand under the tap for no less than fifteen minutes—

You can still hear Steven’s babbling when your new shoes rubbed your ankles red and raw while on a walk, distracting you from the pain the best he could until you got back home—

You are just so acutely aware of their love—that Marc and Steven would never dare hurt you. It’s impossible to reconcile your memories of them with the picture that’s being painted of Jake right now.

No. You can’t believe it.

You’re not even hearing their conversation anymore, your heartbeat is too loud. Breathing returns to you in a rush—you never even realized you stopped—and your vision swims with light-headedness.

None of it makes sense.

It—it can’t—

The mattress dips beside you, but you barely feel it. Someone’s cupping your cheeks, grounding you back into the flat, your home, and you know these hands. You know this voice, soothing in your ear, even as you shut your eyes.

They say that they’re sorry. They say that you’ll be okay.

They call you princesa.

-

It feels strange walking around the flat, knowing that he’s welcome there now.

Jake’s seen every nook and cranny through Marc and Steven, but to actually be able to explore the place himself—he’s like a kid in a toy store. He can’t help but run his fingers over everything. The spines on the bookshelves, the mismatched dishware in the cabinets. That velvet throw pillow, which you are so fond of playing with during movies—yeah, he gets it.

He’s not going to be talking to you for a while, though. After his rocky first meeting with Marc and Steven, which also coincides with the absolute worst possible first meeting with you—

It’s best to steer clear for a while.

Jake let the other two do the explaining. He watched silently as Marc told you about his past—told you about why he was discharged from the Marines and the scenes he’d wake up to after Jake had fronted—hands shaking as they held onto yours. He watched as Steven took over when it got to be too much, adding in the finer details and clarifications, steadier but no less genuine than Marc. Their arms were gentle as Steven held you in their lap, patient as you stumbled through how you felt.

“Marc seemed so mad at Jake.” You clutched at Steven’s shirt, sniffling into his neck. “I didn’t know what was happening, I—I was scared.”

No. Jake furiously shakes his head as if it would jostle the memory out of his brain. Just thinking about it threatens to unravel him, and he has to keep it together. He’s on thin ice as is.

You had been the one to temper their emotions—the sight of you panicking on their bed grinding all other issues to a halt. The conversation couldn’t continue until you were okay, and this time, Steven kept you in the loop.

Steven is wary. Steven needles him about what he’s been doing all this time, asks him what he’s going to do now with short little mhms. Steven is also the one to buy a new set of pens (because black is already used for non-individual specific events) and designates him as orange.

Marc doesn’t trust Jake at all and admits it outright. It’s—it stings more than he thought it would, but he understands. He always knew that Marc would take a while to come around, especially with you to consider—

Jake doesn’t know why he worries so much about your opinion. Protecting you is an extension of protecting the body, but he never used to care about what Marc or Steven had to say. He hates the caution in your voice when you talk about him and can’t help but appreciate you trying anyways.

He pinches himself. You’re not his to think about, period.

Acknowledging his existence also, sort of, comes with accepting it. Steven somehow finds the space for another dresser in their already cramped bedroom. Jake doesn’t even have enough possessions in general to fill that thing—not counting all the weapons and ammo that Marc would definitely have their head for if he brought them into the flat.

It’s an olive branch on both sides, though. They’re committing to having him around. He’s committing to being around, instead of lurking in the background of their lives.

His clothes only fill up the first drawer but—it’s nice. Jake stares at the thing a lot more than a used, scratched-up piece of furniture probably warrants. He can barely admit it to himself but this, all of it—going outside during the day, eating a freshly-cooked meal, even just relaxing in bed without immediately trying to go to sleep in order to Protect the Body—it really is just nice.

(Since when did he describe anything as nice?)

Then—your keys turn in the door.

.

.

.

Jake hits the eject button so fast, Steven’s probably going to get whiplash.

“Nice reflexes,” he grumbles as you enter the flat. It was funny the first few dozen times. Now? That twat’s just being a coward.

“I’m home!” You call out as Steven rounds the corner to greet you, tote bag nearly bulging in your hand. He pecks your lips as he helps you out of your jacket, then hangs it up beside the three others on the rack. “There was a little creators’ market in the park—you should’ve seen it!”

“Think I’m seeing it now,” he chuckles, moving to help you with your tote. You slink past him at the last second, grinning. “Come on, love, show us what you got!”

“They’re gifts! Just hang on.” You place the bag on the dining table and enraptured, he pulls up a stool. His head rests on his chin as he waits for you to unpack. “Okay, first, for Marc—”

You reach your hand inside and reveal a pair of black leather gloves. Not driving gloves like Jake’s—there’re far less embellishments all around. But they’re warm and flexible, perfect for colder weather. Inside, the lining is made with a material so soft that when trying one on, Steven can’t help but laugh a little in disbelief.

“Treading on my territory, pendejo?”

Marc snipes back, “Like you own a monopoly on leather gloves.”

Steven lets Marc pull to the front. An easy smile spreads on his face as he flexes his hand, testing his movement. “Thanks, baby. I really like them.”

He takes your chin into his gloved hand to thank you properly, slotting his lips against yours with no shortage of appreciation. His grip is an anchor, holding you in place as he kisses you, deep and languid. Like you have all the time in the world despite the heat flickering across his skin. When Marc gets like this, it’s not long before you start squirming under him, and your hands paw at his neck for something more.

That’s his cue to finally pull away, smirking as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Whether it’s the leather or him or both, he can see the effect on you, the dazed look you give him when you bat your eyes open.

Let Jake try and beat that.

“Oi! Share!”

Marc sighs. Drops his forehead to yours and reluctantly doesn’t continue any further. “Steven wants his gift now.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in. “Maybe I should’ve done Steven’s first.”

Marc steals one more kiss before retreating again, and Steven is back, clearly eager for many different reasons now. After putting Marc’s new gloves to the side, you don’t make him wait a second longer; you pull out a stunning new button-up, deep navy with a pattern of large teal palm leaves and hints of salmon accents all over.

All traces of joy disappear from Marc’s voice. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“She’s an enabler. I can’t believe it.”

Steven gapes, amazed. “How did you—”

“I had to go digging,” you admit, gesturing widely. “There were so many racks, we need to go back! I only had my one bag!”

“There’s no way people actually buy this stuff.”

“Ahh, well, it’s not that bad—"

“Are you kidding me?”

Ignoring the fashion police in his head, Steven immediately switches shirts and tosses the old one somewhere behind him. Based on Marc’s grunt, he missed the couch, but also can hardly find himself to care.

He doesn’t even bother doing up the buttons, because he knows where you’ll put your hands when he descends upon your face. Kiss after kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and nose, and soon enough you’re giggling loudly into the air. Your hands are warm against his bare torso, pulling him closer even as their stubble tickles your skin.

“Stevie—Steven! There’s one more!”

He’s not letting you off that easily, though, and finally captures your lips with his. That does buy him a few more blissful seconds until you manage to push him away; breathing heavily, you point sternly in his direction—behave.

Steven schools his expression into one of perfect obedience, teasing, but you barely even react. With one glance back down at the table, it’s like the tote bag sucked away your excitement, leaving shy uncertainty in its wake. You’re biting your lip as you reach for the last gift, quiet.

Marc hums, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Steven offers you an encouraging little smile and is about to say something when you produce the last gift in a rush, still not meeting their eyes.

It’s a simple wool scarf, colour-blocked in soft browns and greys. He waits as you fiddle with it in your hands, trying to find the words.

“He doesn’t have a scarf,” you blurt out. When Steven doesn’t respond immediately, you continue. “Jake, I mean—I don’t think he has one. I thought it would be nice.”

He follows your gaze to the coat rack near the door, filled with four sets of outerwear. It clearly doesn’t fit all the jackets owned in the household, but his favourite is hung up next to Marc’s, which is hung up beside your overcoat and Jake’s collared jacket. Various cold weather accessories are layered onto the hooks as well, multiple pairs of gloves, hats—but there are only three scarves.

Come to think of it, Steven hasn’t seen Jake ever wear a scarf either. “You’re right, love. Doesn’t his neck get cold? I know our neck gets cold.”

The corners of your mouth tug up a little and he grins, triumphant. He tunes into his head, making sure he doesn’t miss any of Jake’s reaction, but nothing comes. That’s odd. It doesn’t feel like he’s gone, more like—holding his breath.

“Think he’ll like it?” You tilt your head, though your true question is clear on your face.

The words can’t come out of Jake fast enough. “I’m not here right now.”

“Jesus, man.”

Steven huffs but covers for his alter; they’ll press him about it another time. “Once he sees it, I don’t think he’ll ever take it off.”

The gloves and scarf are added to the coat rack, which is liable to falling over one of these days due to the heavy load it’s carrying. With no shortage of complaining from Marc, Steven picks up his discarded shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket. It’s almost full—he makes a note to do a load later this week.

He must look ridiculous, parading around in an undone button-up, but you have nothing but fondness for him when he returns to cuddle with you on the couch. You’ve changed into Marc’s sweater and have to move no less than five decorative pillows in order to make enough space.

Marc makes a distressed noise when Steven throws one of them to the side. “It’s fine—”

It hits the standing lamp and you both freeze as you watch it teeter on its base, creaking ominously. After a moment, it steadies again.

“It’s only fine because of your weak throw.”

Steven splutters as he pulls you into his side. “We have the same arm!”

They bicker about the mechanics of their body, whether muscle memory crosses over when they switch or not. Marc is squarely of the opinion: No. Steven reminds him of when he punched the Jackal, and the conversation continues to devolve. Jake refrains from getting involved but spurs them on regardless with a well-placed snicker here and there.

It’s an aimless argument that has you burying your face in your hands because you’re laughing too hard; one of many that have taken place and one of many that have yet to occur.

In the morning, Marc will cook you breakfast and throw an eggshell into the bin from across the kitchen just to prove a point. Steven will go back to the market with you to buy armfuls of his favourite clothing and home goods, and he’ll add one more to his bag for every snide comment Marc makes. And Jake—

Jake will take a little while longer until he feels ready to speak to you, but you see the scarf gather raindrops and the warm, woodsy smell of their aftershave as he wears it every time he goes outside. Always see it hung up neatly on the rack, on top of his jacket so it can properly dry.

And with all four of you settled in, their cluttered little flat in London—long overflowing with books and clothes, your favourite comforts and some truly unique furniture—finally started to feel complete.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

[lunarmoves]

indirect continuation of this sun kiss drabble

you were being tailed for quite some time now.

you noticed by accident—a strange shadow in the corner of your eye as you made your way through the pizzaplex after hours for your nightly tasks. it was gone almost as soon as you'd turned your head to look at where it'd been. at first you figured you were just seeing things—maybe the shadows cast by the bright neon lights were playing tricks on you. maybe the late hours walking around the massive mall were making you tired.

but when you started to feel the prickle of your hairs standing straight—the burn of a gaze watching your every move—you realized exactly what you were dealing with. or rather, who.

"moon, why are you following me?" you sighed out sometime halfway through your shift, stopping in your trek to the arcade room to fix a few broken machines. hands placed on your hips, you looked up at the ceiling and tried to make out any odd shadows or faint gleams of metal. but when moon didn't want to be found, well... you could spend your entire night looking for him and you wouldn't be able to catch even the smallest of glimpses.

you waited patiently for a few moments, surveying around you in case he'd reveal himself. "moon, i know you're there." silence, complete and utter silence. you gave him another minute, then let out a huff. fine, if he wanted to mess with you tonight, whatever. it wasn't like you weren't used to it.

just as you took another step in the direction of the arcade, you heard it. the faintest, faintest jingle of a bell somewhere to your left. your head snapped in that direction, eyes moving from the polished floor of the pizzaplex to the darkest corners of the ceiling. there was a supply closet not too far from you, its door closed. you squinted at it suspiciously for a moment, then turned to make your way back t—

"boo."

you yelped—of course you fucking yelped—and swung at moon's upside-down face out of instinct more than anything. he was directly in front of you—nearly nose to nose in a way where you only really saw the redness of his eyes swallowing you whole. he dodged your punch easily, lifting himself up into the air with his wire so that your fist passed harmlessly under his dangling hat.

you exhaled harshly, your heart pounding away in your chest and your ears. it felt like you'd gotten the life sucked out of you. "you—!! gah! stop doing that!!" you huffed and straightened up to glare at him. you didn't think it was all too intimidating in his eyes.

he chuckled, a low thing that always made something in your gut feel strange, and said no more. only watched you from where he hung upside down in a pose reminiscent of a past spiderman movie. you eyed him, waiting to see if he'd say anything else. but when he didn't—his head clicking side to side ever so minutely—you frowned.

"what's wrong?" you asked bluntly. his head cocked to the left. "why have you been sulking around me all night?"

moon grumbled something indecipherable. "wasn't sulking."

"was too. what gives?" you pressed further, crossing your arms across your chest. he looked away, avoiding your gaze, and you knew something was bothering him. "you hadn't done that in a while. i thought we were past the 'stalking' part and on the, y'know, 'hanging out like friends do' part."

he only hummed shortly and turned his faceplate to look somewhere off to the side—at the door of the closed storage closet. your foot tapped against the smooth floor for a bit, waiting once more to see if he'd say anything. he didn't.

"moooon, c'mon use your big boy words." you approached him, popping back into his view so he wouldn't have any choice but to look at you. "i can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." your words were gentle like a soft, spring breeze.

there was the slightest flicker of his optics as he glanced at your face. then he made a low sound—a groan of sorts—and seemed to struggle with saying something. your patience knew no bounds, so you were willing to wait however long it took for him to spill those pesky feelings of his. but when he only fell silent once more, you decided that this wasn't going to go anywhere.

"okay, fine"—you threw up your hands and turned on your heel so you could return to your actual job—"you don't wanna tell me, that's fine. i'll just go back to—"

you barely got a few steps away before your words were cut off by the back of your shirt being tugged on. your head craned back just in time to see moon flip himself down from his wire—landing nimbly on his feet, quiet as a mouse. and then he was dragging you towards the supply closet.

"hey! moon what—" you were crowded into the closet with little flair, tripping and stumbling over yourself no thanks to moon's tight grip on your shirt. the door closed behind you with a small snap. and suddenly you were in darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of moon's ruby eyes. you blinked widely in the hopes of getting your vision to adjust faster.

your foot accidentally kicked a bucket somewhere to your side, sending it rattling onto the floor. it was cramped in here, especially with moon's lanky figure pressing against your front. his hands gripped tightly along your upper arms. you could feel shelves stocked with cleaning supplies pressing uncomfortably into your back. there was hardly any room to move.

you felt small—overpowered. caged in with the only exit blocked off by an unrelenting robot.

you stared up at moon with what you hoped was a flat expression, his face and upper arms just barely visible to you in this absolute void of a closet. "what are you doing." it felt like you couldn't speak any louder than a whisper for fear of breaking something you could not see.

moon's gaze trailed over your face, cataloguing every feature, before it landed on— on.... your mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton, dry and unpleasant.

"you..." he suddenly spoke up in a quiet, raspy murmur, leaning himself down further into your space. it allowed the strain on your neck to abate slightly. "you and sun..." you slowly nodded your head, maybe as a way to encourage him to continue when it was obvious how hesitation lined his voice. "...you gave him a kiss."

your heart picked up its pace, thrumming in your ears. you did give him one some time ago—saved only from his strange pestering when the daycare's lights had switched off and you were able to escape during his painful-sounding transformation into moon. you hadn't seen him since, too rattled by his intense insistence. it made you feel... weird. "i did. and?"

"i... would also like one." the words came out in a rush—like he was forcing them out in a hurried exile.

something burned ferociously at the sides of your face and neck. you wondered if he could hear how erratic your pulse was. you hoped not.

"is that why you forced us into this dinky closet?" you whispered, refusing to let yourself sound anything but casual. like his request wasn't causing something torrential to swarm around in the pit of your stomach. you were suddenly reminded that their dual A.I.s allowed them both to see what was happening no matter who was in control. that moon had been watching sun demand a kiss from you before. and that sun was watching now.

you swallowed heavily and moon's gaze followed the bob of your throat in a manner that made you suppress a shiver.

"yes," was his simple, hushed reply. closer and closer, his face was but a hair's breadth away from your own.

your breaths bated. you closed your eyes for a short moment in a vain attempt to collect yourself. his request was simple. you didn't need to make a big deal out of it. it was just a kiss, and he was just a robot. it didn't mean anything. the words became a mantra in your head.

you exhaled, low and slow. "okay." an agreement that weighed more than you realized at that moment.

curiosity is not a sin, you reminded yourself. but yet— you were being forced to face something you knew would have repercussions. you only hoped it wouldn't be anything strong.

after bolstering yourself with as much courage as you could, you raised yourself up on your tiptoes to close that minute distance between you and moon. to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope that it would be enough for him.

but moon— moon had learned from sun.

and before you could realize what he was doing, he shifted himself forward in a rather fluid manner—towards you. so that your lips would land soundly in the middle of his static smile instead of where you'd intended. something leapt up in your chest.

you weren't sure what you'd expected. fireworks and confetti? the soft plushness of another person's lips pressing back against yours? had your mind been tricked into thinking it would be something familiar with his facsimile of a mouth? but no, there was just the cool solidness of a metallic smile. it was like kissing a wall—immovable and unyielding.

and yet... and yet it wasn't.

for the grip moon had on you was tight. tight tight tight. unwilling to let you go. his hands had shifted so that one pressed hotly (hotly? your hazy mind registered distantly) against the small of your back while the other wrapped around your shoulders. and he held you so fervently. like he could press you into him and meld you both into one. like he was scared to ever let you go.

and that was enough, you think, as you lose yourself not to a kiss, but to a hold. that was enough.

#if it wasnt obvious im placing a lot. more weight on the fact that theyre robots lmao #creates sum good fckin drama YUM #dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #moon x reader #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf moon x y/n #moon x y/n #moon x self insert #damn this wouldve gone crazy with liek 20k of buildup #if u see me reusing some of these lines in a future wip... no u dont #i went crazy #moondrop x reader #moondrop x y/n #some #sun x reader #if u squint #shay scribbles daydreams #fnaf dca x reader #no one look at me #mounty look away #dca x y/n

[vainvenus]

⌲;꒰ Favorite boy in the Valley ꒱

Pairing - Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Synopsis - Eli's doubting your relationship so you have to confirm some things for him.

Includings - S1!Eli no Hawk, insecurities, crying, embarrassed and blushing Eli, lots of kisses, words of affirmation, small bits of angst, a bunch of fluff

An - First post back with a new fixation! All tags used are fandoms I write for so feel free to request anything

And if anybodys interested I'm currently writing a Scream Au!Cobra Kai on quotev under the same name I use on here

Eli had been a bit off lately and it was starting to worry you.

Eli was generally a quiet person, he had been that way since you met him and he still was. But even given his quiet nature if there was a topic he was interested in and the right people were talking about it he would add in an opinion or two.

And he would be more than happy to rant to you of all people about a new series he had started up or to talk about one of the movies you recommended to him so that the two of you could gush about it and share opinions, but recently he had been a lot quieter.

You shut your locker, smiling over at the dirty blonde. "So, have you watched clueless yet? The fashion in that is-"

"Uh..no, sorry. I was...uhm...busy." He interrupted, staring down at his feet at the lie he told, he watched it twice and wanted nothing more than to go on and on about it.

You rose a brow, head tilting slightly as you stared at him with a look that almost made him call his bluff. "Busy?"

He just nodded quietly.

Then about a week ago, when you asked him if he wanted to come over after school to do a Marvel marathon he had quickly declined, saying that he had other plans and before you could ask what those plans were he went to go talk to Demetri.

He would usually walk you to class, everybody saying that wherever you were he had to be somewhere close by but recently as you waited outside your classroom for him he would be nowhere to found and that made your heart sink a little bit.

"Hey, you weren't outside my English class to walk me to culinary today." You frowned, setting your lunch tray next to his and taking your seat. "I wanted to tell you that I aced my essay..."

Eli glanced over at you and moved his nail from between his teeth. A nasty habit you had been trying to get him to stop doing for months and you were real close until he started becoming distant.

"I was just...just rushing to get to Chemistry. I had a really important test and wanted to get some extra study time in." He explained and you slowly nodded, deciding not to bring up the fact that his test was tomorrow.

He also stopped holding your hand, the first thing he could make the first move on, something he could confidently do if he was feeling nervous or just wanted to touch you. Normally he would hold it as he walked you to your classes or even when the two of you were sitting together at lunch but he started to pull his hand away or shove it into his pocket.

And what really got you was when he started denying your kisses. At first you thought it would just be by accident or he didn't want a kiss at the moment since he was still getting comfortable with PDA but you soon realized that he was dodging your kisses, tilting and moving his head when you leaned in.

It was all really confusing. You didn't understand why he was acting like this and it left you wondering if you had did something wrong. Maybe you had done something that made him upset with you?

You sighed, leaning onto Demetri's shoulder. "Its like when we first met all over again, Dem. He's just been so distant and I don't know whats the matter. Has he been acting different with you?"

"No, he hasnt." Demetri bluntly answered, shaking his head while his eyes stayed focused on the homework you let out a long sigh. "Then it's me, I have to be the problem."

The brunette sighed, putting his pencil down and turning his head to look at you, nearly giving you a death glare. "Look, you just need to talk to him, alright? He's probably going through another one of his slumps and needs some reassurance."

You had groaned, rubbing your hand along your face. "Of course, why hadn't you thought of that before? "Thanks, Dem! You're so good at giving advice, can't believe I didn't think that. God I'm dumb sometimes."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know I am and I know you are. Now, can we please finish our homework now that you're done moping?"

"[Y/n], Eli didn't tell me you were coming."

You smiled up at his mother as you held a new copy of the comic book Eli had ranted about a while ago along with a bag of some of his favorite snacks. "Yeah, I wanted to surprise him."

"Well he's upstairs in his room." She hummed, closing the door behind you as you walked up the stairs and down the hall to the boy's room, lifting your knuckles up to knock on the door.

There was a bit of shuffling before the door opened and Eli's eyes were wide with surprise upon seeing you. "[Y/n]? What..What are you doing here?"

"I just really need to talk to you. Can I come in, please?"

He seemed hesitant at first before reluctantly nodded and opened his door all the way. You set the things you brought for him on the table then walked over to sit across from him on his bed.

You looked at him, staring into his eyes as you reached out to grab his hand and rubbed your thumb over the back of it. "Eli, talk to me. What's the matter? What's going on?"

"It's nothing-" He started but you weren't buying it, obviously. "Eli we both know that's a lie. You haven't really been yourself lately and I just need to know why. I'm here for you. Is it something that I've done or anything I can fix?"

"Unless you can fix me being a freak, no, you can't."

Your face softened as you held onto his hand a little tighter. "Eli, you're not-"

He shook his head, pulling his hands away from yours. "No! Don't. Don't say that! I don't wanna hear this whole 'you're not a freak' talk again I'm so sick of it!"

The way his voice started to crack made your heart sink as you saw that his eyes were starting to water, fresh tears threatening to spill.

"Kyler said something that...that just really got me thinking. Saying that he didn't know how a girl like...like you gave a nerd with a weird lip...lip a chance." Eli swallowed the lump starting in his throat because he was going to start crying rethinking of the conversation.

"He started talking about how much better you could've done. Better like somebody like...like him." He sniffled, his fingers brushing against his scar as he looked everywhere but you when he spoke.

"And then I started to think he was...was right. You could do so much better than some nerd with a freaky l..lip." His voice wobbled as he stared down at his bedsheets.

"Eli. Eli, look at me." While the boy shook his head you reached up to grab the sides of his face, wiping away the tears with your thumbs that were starting to fall down his cheeks.

You sighed, frowning softly. "Look, I don't care what anybody else says, okay? Kyler was wrong because there's no better choice. I mean, is there any other boy at school who would listen to my constant complaining about Mrs.Carter?"

Eli had stayed quiet as you continued. "Would any other boy let me ramble about [f/superhero] and not call me a nerd?"

Silence.

You weren't done though. "Would some jerk like Kyler deal with my long shopping trips and help me carry all my bags around?"

Continuing you had smiled softly up at him. "Oh and I'm one hundred percent sure none of those guys would watch silly chick flicks with me and actually like them."

He shrugged his shoulders and you smiled, pressing your lips against the his cheek in a short yet sweet kiss and he winced, feeling the stickiness from your lipgloss. "And no other boy here is as breathtaking as you."

Your smile grew more as you saw the tips of his ears turning pink and he turned his head away slightly, looking up and away at his ceiling. "[Y/n].."

"I'm serious, Eli. You're so very pretty. I love and adore everything about you."

He avoided eye contact with you, trying to pull his face from your hands but you only hummed while pressing kisses all over his face and leaving shiny kiss marks along it.

"Your eyes alone just make me melt, y'know? I'm real jealous of how your lashes look better than mine." You giggled, placing a kiss right above his brow.

"[Y/n], stop..." He mumbled, his cheeks now being a color that would put any blush set to shame and you shook your head.

"You have a beautiful nose. I love staring at your side profile, it's just perfect." You complimented, kissing the bridge of his nose before your eyes trailed down.

You reached up, tracing your finger along the scar. "And like I've said before I love your scar. I could kiss you a million times and never get grossed out by it.

At that you leaned forward, pressing your lips right against his scar and you could feel his hands squeezing at the bottom of your shirt, fists squeezing tightly around the fabric before you moved down and captured his slightly chapped lips with your own. While you leaned into the kiss you could feel Eli's grip slowly lighten as he leaned into the kiss.

Eli was a burning mess in a the face when you kissed his scar, closing his eyes at the feeling while holding tightly onto your shirt as if you would go anywhere. Feeling you place felt your soft lips on his own partially chapped ones he was like putty in your hands, practically liquefying.

When you pulled away you giggled at the residue of gloss that came from your lips and that was now all over Eli's face and his own lips, smiling as the boy rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, his shoulders rising and falling while he panted softly.

"So no, there's no boy in this valley I'd rather be with." You confirmed, wrapping your arms and he laid back allowing you to lay your head against his chest, finding a sort of comfort listening to his heartbeat.

You hummed softly, reaching a hand up to play with the tuffs of his hair and the two of you laid there in comfortable silence and you peered up to stare at him to see that he was already staring at you.

"You...You really mean it? All that stuff you said earlier?" He questioned, his voice coming off as a whisper and you lifted your head up.

You sat up on his lap, furrowing your brows at him while staring at him with an incredulous expression. "Do I need to repeat myself? Kisses and all?"

"I...I don't know...I don't think I really got it." Eli gave a sheepish smile, messing with the hem of your shirt."

"Maybe...uhm...a couple more kisses and it might click?" He quietly suggested and stared up at you through his eyelashes, his lips parting a bit.

And how could you say no to such a pretty face like that?

#eli moskowitz #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk moskowitz x reader #hawk x reader #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai #stranger things #the outsiders #it 2017 #karate kid #the black phone

[norrizzandpia]

Lacy (Part 2) (Oscar Ending) (LN4 and OP81)

Summary: It might not be the happy ending he was expecting, but it’s a happy ending nonetheless.

Warnings: language, sexual conversations

Note: guys… this might be the most beautiful thing I have ever read and while I usually dont like to gloat, THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD GRAB THOSE TISSUES BECAUSE I WAS EVEN TEARING UP DURING THIS bro good luck to yall this is so rough

Note (part 2): ALSO this is the Oscar endgame ending, the lando ending will be published tmrw!!! I just wanted to get this one out first because i know the majority of people are waiting for the osc ending BUT ITS COMING TO THE LANDO GIRLIES I SWEAR <3

Note (part 3): also i will be posting screenshots of the anons I used for this whole storyline in a seperate post so be on the lookout for that after the lando ending comes out

There was never quiet. Quiet entailed her mind not racing with thoughts of Lando and her body to rid itself of the physical pain she was feeling. It was numbing, how hard the hurt hit her. Nothing had ever hurt her in that way. It was a sinking feeling, something that felt so incredibly serious and dark, she was too distraught to get out of bed.

The first few weeks were incredibly hard. She had a hard time eating, sleeping, and everything in between. If it hadn’t been for Lando telling Oscar to go check up on her, probably no one would have thought twice about her. The first time he saw her, the Australian quietly knocking on her door, he was terrified.

Y/n had been the first friend he made at McLaren. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Lando or his engineer, it was Y/n. Maybe it was because she was lonely herself, but the two had grown closer over the time he had been driving at McLaren, getting close enough for her to learn the real reason why he left Alpine in the way he did and him getting to understand the deep mess that was her and Lando. He never agreed with the way Lando treated her, but who was he to say anything? All he could do was sit off to the side and try to subtly comfort her when he made her feel unimportant.

Nevertheless, to walk into her apartment and see the state it was in as well as her dark eye bags and frail frame, Oscar was concerned. That morning he had coaxed her back to bed before making her breakfast, sitting with her on her mattress and making sure she ate every last bit. He had been so worried for her, he canceled his plans that day and cooked her every meal, fed her every snack, and, in between, watched the most outrageous reality TV he had ever seen.

Then, it became a routine.

He would show up at her apartment early in the morning to make breakfast with her before going on a long walk. Then, they’d come back, watch a movie and he’d have to leave, saddening, but not too much seeing as they both knew he’d be back in the night to make her dinner and lay her back in bed when she fell asleep on the couch after their reality TV show binge.

Then, somehow, feelings arose.

Oscar wasn’t sure when they developed, but one moment he was watching her laugh and thinking how happy he was to see that pretty sign of happiness on her face. After he recognized that, he continued to recognize how he always stayed late enough, no matter what time, that she fell asleep on his shoulder and he had to pick her up, wrap her in his arms, and lay her back in bed. He recognized how his hand constantly reached out for hers on walks when cars would fly so quickly past them and, for a split second, he became protective.

He wanted his feelings to stop, to not be real, because of Lando. However, the boy continued to date Luisinha even after everything that happened with Y/n, something Oscar was completely filled in on one night when Y/n began to sob to him about her inner turmoil.

It wasn’t until their feelings truly came out that Oscar realized there was no way he could push them down any longer, not when she loved him too.

It had been a peaceful Sunday night, one without the stressors of racing or work, just the two of them with full bellies glued next to each other on her couch, watching another stupid episode of Love Island.

Her head had been laying on his chest and his arms had been slung around her body, pulling her into him so unbelievably close. When a particular scene came on, the two girls and one guy yelling at each other because he had manipulated both of them into thinking he loved them both, Oscar noticed his shirt getting a bit wet. His eyes averted away from the TV, down to her, only to find her cheeks wet and her hands quickly wiping away the tears.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He whispered, hands rubbing her back gently.

She shook her head, sitting up to rest her elbows on her knees, “It’s nothing. Just their situation.”

It took him a moment to realize, but once he did, he was quick to wrap his arms back around her, “It reminds you of you and Lando.”

“Yeah, but not in the way you think.” His eyebrows furrowed at her response.

“What do you mean?”

She pulled away, eyes staring back at him deeply, “It’s just that- I feel so bad for the girl that had to go through all of that. I feel sad for the girl I was six months ago. I’ve moved on from the pain he caused, but I haven’t moved on from how broken that girl had been. She didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve any of that.”

He shook his head, his eyes watering at the thing he had been trying to convince her of all this time, “No, you didn’t. You never did.”

Their faces had been so close, with his arms still strongly wrapped around her and hers curled up in his chest. It was inevitable, truly, when he leaned in slightly, silently asking her if he could. When she nudged her nose against his, he let his body do the one thing he had been wishing for for as long as he had known her.

Kissing her was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was soft and needy, but greedy at the same time seeing as this had been something they both had clearly been suppressing for so long. His hands tangled in her hair, he pulled away just a bit, “I don’t think we should do this.”

She tilted her head, “Why?”

“Because of him. I mean, you’re in a fragile state. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, Oscar. You’re not. I got over what he did to me and the feelings I had for him months ago when I realized everything I ever wanted was right in front of me.”

Her eyes bore into his, inferring that he was everything she had ever wanted, yet he still seemed hesitant.

Sighing, she linked her hands around his neck, “Do you love me? Because I love you.”

Her words took the air out of his lungs, nodding vigorously, “Of course, I love you.”

Nudging her nose against his once more, “Then kiss me, Osc.”

It was the way she said his name. So gently, with so much love, that pushed him to throw caution to the wind and get his girl. He kissed her fervently, giving her everything he had, as she reciprocated every feeling. It was euphoric, the way they accepted each other, and when they had sex that night, slow and passionate, it was the exact same.

Waking up next to her, Oscar knew that he could never go back.

Lando’s opinion would never matter because the girl curled up in his chest deserved the world and the fact that Lando never saw that, well, that was on him.

—

LANDO’S POV

I had done this. I had pushed them together. I asked Oscar to check up on her because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.

Oscar’s voice rings in my head like a fucking reminder of everything I missed.

“I love her, mate. I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, but me and her are going to give it a try. Whether you like it or not.” His words spit out, the image of them together the only thing in my head as he tries to break the news.

Putting on my best smile and hoping the regret doesn’t seep through, I say, “Nah, it’s good, Oscar. Have fun with her.”

He’s immediately visibly taken aback.

“That’s all you have to say?” He questions, suddenly my answer feels too informal, as if he hadn’t just taken away the one thing I’ve needed my entire life.

I nod, “Yeah, what else should I say?”

He scoffs, standing up, his demeanor shifting to something I have never seen from him, “Lando, you’re a fucking dumbass. ‘Have fun with her’? That’s fucking slimy. You talk about her like you didn’t almost cheat on your girlfriend with her. You talk about her like you didn’t take advantage of the feelings you knew she had for you. How do you not care about her?”

Standing up, I yell, “What do you want me to say?! Of fucking course, I care about her, Oscar! But, do you want me to say that to you?! You just told me you’re going to date my ex whether I liked it or not! There’s nothing to say!”

He shook his head, “First of all, she’s your ex-best friend, dickhead. Don’t get that shit twisted. You never got to love her like I do. Second of all, there should be something to say. In fact, I reckon you haven’t even apologized to her yet. Where’s the fucking apology?! You toyed with her for years and dropped her like that shit was easy. You completely ghosted her after almost telling her you loved her!”

I exhaled, so fucking tired of being reminded of the ways in which I lost her, of how I treated her. I’ll never be able to articulate it well, the shit mess I created and why, but, at least, I can understand it. I know I loved her. I know I love her. I know that will never change. And I know that I had been so stupidly confused on how in love with her I was, I pushed her away to the brink of loss.

“I’ve taken your relationship announcement well. Now, please get out of my apartment. I’m not interested in hearing another person's disappointment in the way I treated her. I hear it enough from myself.”

Oscar shook his head, keys jingling in his hand as he typed a quick message on his phone and walked to the door, “It’ll never be enough. You can’t be blamed for what you put her through enough. It’s fucking absurd you sleep at night.”

With that, he shut the door.

“I don’t sleep at night,” I mumbled.

—

THIRD PERSON POV

Oscar’s hand yanked open the driver’s seat door. Crouching down and getting in the car, he leaned over the console and kissed his girlfriend.

His hand gently on her back, she smiled, “How’d it go with him?”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her the fight he and Lando got into, simply smiling and kissing her again, “It went as well as it could.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she let out a giggle, “So, not good?”

Detaching from her and starting the ignition, he smiled, “That doesn’t concern you, love.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, looking out the window as he drove away, “I think it does considering it revolves around me.”

He laughed, his hand on her thigh, “The world doesn’t revolve around you,” He said in a singsong voice, joking along with her.

Her head reared to look at his side profile, faux astonishment, “Yes, it does.”

He glanced at her, his charming smile making her blush, “Yes, it does.”

—

LANDO’S POV

I had to find an escape somehow. I needed a way out of here. I couldn’t be here any longer and watch his hands on her, them being glued to her hips, as she laughed at his jokes and kissed his cheeks. I hate how perfect they are together. I hate how much more he makes her laugh and how much she smiles around him. I loathe how much better of a driver he is, how much everyone loves him, how much she loves him, I hate him because there’s nothing to hate about him, yet he has her, the one thing I had but stupidly lost, so I just detest the sight of him. He has everything I don’t have and more, it plagues me at night. He can give her so much more than I ever could’ve, and yet, I still find myself trying to figure out ways to get her back.

She was mine first, that should count for something right?

Nonetheless, I can’t stand it in this garage anymore. Their happiness, especially after having just broken up with Luisinha, makes me sick.

Walking the paddock, I try to spot the infamous red. Maybe Carlos can talk me out of this deep hole I’ve dug myself, maybe he can bring me back, even though no one has. The only person who could have the capability to build me back up again is her, it’s Y/n.

She’ll always be my lifeline.

I’m close to his room when I hear my name flood through the cracked door of Charles’ room.

“I just don’t understand how Lando fucked up so bad,” He says, words coming out quickly as if they had been on his tongue for so long.

Suddenly, Max’s voice pops through and the Red Bull driver says the sentence that I never wanted to hear out loud, “Yeah, exactly. It was so clear she loved him and he just threw it away because of another girl? Luisinha was sweet, but she wasn’t Y/n, and I sure as hell preferred Y/n to her. Y/n was perfect for Lando and I’m sad they didn’t work out, but have you seen how happy she is with Oscar?”

Their hurtful words continue as Charles lets out an agreeing hum, “Oh yeah. She’s been through so much, specifically with everything between her and Lando, you can tell she really loves him. You can tell he’s really good for her. I think it’s the stability and gentleness he’s showing her that makes the difference. With Lando, it was all up and down like a rollercoaster, but, with Oscar, it’s so apparent he just loves her and shows her everyday, something Lando never did.”

I feel the tears welling in my eyes as I take their analyses in.

He can’t be better for her than me. Y/n and I have always been destined for each other, how can one guy swoop in and change all of that? I will always love Y/n harder, that has to count for something.

Right?

—

It’s the expensive dates. That has to be the reason she’s so enthralled with him.

The pictures I scroll through on his Instagram of their quiet date night make me want to dig my own grave. A photo of his hand in hers; a photo of her smiling at the camera so big it looks as if he had said something sweet to her and caught her genuine reaction, a beautiful candid of a beautiful girl; a photo of them kissing in front of a fountain, her hand on his shoulder as she leans up to meet his lips.

It’s all too much.

I hate how much they mesh together and how big he makes her smile. I hate the fact that he has bigger muscles than me and a nicer car.

I hate it all.

As if to add salt in the wound, Oscar’s smiling face walks through the door, his body plopping down on the couch across from me as he sits next to Andrea and the two start talking.

“How’s Y/n?” Andrea asks, completely unaware of how sensitive I am to her name.

Oscar nods, “She’s great! I dropped her off at work this morning after we had breakfast in her apartment.”

Andrea wiggles his eyebrows, sexual innuendos on the tip of his tongue and I want someone to come take out my brain, so it could stop picturing him pleasuring her like he knows her body better than I do.

“So, you sleep at her house now?” Andrea says, chuckling.

Oscar laughs along with him as my heart tears straight down the middle, “We jump around between each other’s places. Some nights I sleep at hers, some nights she’ll sleep at mine. Really, it just depends on where we go for dinner the night before. If the place is closer to my house, then we end up there and vice versa.”

Andrea nods and smiles, oblivious to my presence, “That sounds like a good time.”

Oscar side eyes him and they both fall into a fit of giggles, Andrea waving his hands in the air as he says, “Not what I meant!”

Oscar nods, “No, I get what you mean. My mind is just dirtier now after spending so much time with her. My girlfriend is not for the pure. Every two seconds, she has some random sex joke ready.”

The words “my girlfriend” out of his mouth is what sends me over the edge.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” I say, standing up and causing a scene.

Oscar’s face hardens as he meets my position, “What’s with you?”

I shake my head, “You’re rubbing it in my face and you know it.”

He shrugs, “So, what if I am? A little guilt does you good after the shit you pulled.”

Finally, after the emotional build up, I yell, “I GET IT! I SCREWED THE FUCK UP! I UNDERSTAND I RUINED HER LIFE AND I RUINED MINE! YOU DON’T NEED TO SIT HERE AND MAKE IT KNOWN EVERY FIVE SECONDS! I CAN’T FUCKING STAND IT ANYMORE!”

Oscar fires back, “YOU DIDN’T RUIN HER FUCKING LIFE BECAUSE YOU NEVER HAD THAT HOLD ON HER. YOU FUCKING HURT HER. THAT’S IT. ALL ANYBODY EVER WANTED FROM YOU WAS AN APOLOGY AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING GET IT OUT. SO, YEAH, I’LL RUB IT IN YOUR FACE. MAYBE THAT WILL GET YOU TO REALIZE WHAT YOU LOST.”

Pushing him, “I DO KNOW WHAT I’VE LOST.”

He pushes me back, my feet stumbling when he yells, “REALLY? BECAUSE IT SURE AS HELL DOESN’T SEEM THAT WA-”

“ENOUGH.” My dad’s voice cuts through, his hands coming to rest on both of our chests.

His gaze is fiery as he levels us, “This has gone on for two long. You two are supposed to be a team. It’s not good for anyone when you fight this way. So, do everybody a favor and grow the fuck up. Act like the professional adults you are.”

The two of us seem to be scared enough to comply and, as my father walks out of the room, he stops in the threshold to turn around and stare at me.

“And, Lando?”

“Yes, dad?”

“Fucking apologize.”

—

THIRD PERSON POV

The knocking at Y/n’s door has her smiling. Feet pattering quickly against the floor, she flings it open.

“Osc! What are you doing he-” Her voice cuts off when her eyes land on Lando.

Her gaze turns icy and she closes the door slightly, “What are you doing here?”

“Please, just hear me out.”

The urgency in his voice has her sighing and opening the door, letting him in yet not letting him back into her heart.

He sets down the flowers he got her on the counter, twiddling his thumbs as his nerves swallow him whole.

“Just say it, Lando.” Her arms cross over her chest as his eyebrows furrow and he truly meets her gaze for the first time since he’s been there.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head.

“I know you love me and I know you came here to tell me that, to see if you still had a chance.” She says slowly, flashbacks of that night out on that Monaco street falling back into their brains. However, now, the tables have turned.

He nods, “Of course, I love you. I always have, Y/n. So, do I still have a chance?”

A silence falls over them as she stares at him, her eyes seemingly challenging him for whatever reason, before she exhales a breath and says, “Instead of stringing you along like you did to me so cruelly all those years, I’ll be 100% transparent with you. I do not love you anymore. I finally have found someone who cherishes every moment with me, who loves me no matter what. I don’t feel scared everyday that Oscar’s going to wake up one day and decide he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and I know I’ll never have to be scared of that. That’s what love is, Lando. That’s what I wanted with you a year and a half ago, but you screwed that up. None of that was ever on me. You knew I loved you and instead of talking to me about it, you harbored that information, got a girlfriend, shoved it in my face, and then tried to tell me you loved me when I was at my most vulnerable. How fucking fucked up? It doesn’t matter if you’ve always loved me or if you continue to. I’ve found someone who gives me everything I’ve ever wanted and more without ever having to ask. I won’t take that for granted like you did. I never had any of that with you and I never will, which is okay because, frankly, I don’t want it with you anymore. So, I’m going to do what you should’ve done that night when I was drunk. I’m going to tell you that I don’t love you and that it’s time to move on because we both know our friendship never would’ve worked as anything more than that. You always wanted me to be your friend, there when you needed me, however you needed me. I was never going to be that for you long term and it’s crazy you ever thought I would’ve. But, that’s not the point anymore. The point is I don’t feel the same way about you and, instead of trying to cheat on the man I love the most, the man who never deserves that, I’m going to tell you to get out of my apartment because we were always destined to be over.”

Lando stands, speechless, on the other side of her kitchen table, taking in the words that completely destroyed his being.

He seems to drown in his tears as his mouth opens and closes, searching for something to say.

“How can Oscar be better than me?” He questions, the inquiry falling from his lips before he has time to realize he doesn’t want to know the answer.

Her answer is quick, “He loves me openly.”

Nodding, Lando leaves the flowers he knows are her favorite on the surface, opting to make his way toward the door as quickly as possible seeing as he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

When they reach the door, she opens it and gives him a soft smile, “I’m sorry for what you’re about to go through. It’s absolute shit, but you’ll get through it. I did. And, maybe, you’ll be as lucky as me to find your soulmate in the healing process.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.” He states, genuinely.

She smiles back at him, “Thank you.”

His tears freely fall down his face as he memorizes her face. It’s so at peace, he finally sees why Oscar is perfect for her. In the time he was with her, Lando never saw her this calm, this happy. Oscar brings out a side of her, a healthy side of her, that he never could have, something he would just have to come to terms with.

His walk back to the elevator after she gently sent him away is heavy. His chest feels constricted and his hands feel sweaty as the steel box takes him down floors. When he reaches the first one and steps out, his eyes catch the infamous papaya colors to his side. What he finds is Oscar standing, waiting for an elevator a few ways down with flowers in his hands. Her favorite ones, the ones Lando had just brought to her. His leg bounces as he eagerly waits for it to open and, when it does, he bolts into it.

No matter how hard Lando finds it to breathe, the knowledge that that is the man he leaves Y/n to is comforting.

Truly comforting.

End.

A/N: Thank you for all the love on Lacy. It truly means everything to me when it comes to the support you guys show my writing. I want to become an author, so the love helps build my confidence with the idea of showing the other, non-fanfiction works I have to publishing companies. Truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, thank you.

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[nevernonline]

✧.* he's not into you; hvc

synopsis: curious what the problem is in your dating life where you just can’t seem to get guys to commit fully to you beyond a second date, your work associate offers his help.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: vernon x fem! reader.

genre: co-workers2friends2lovers (? lmao)

warning/s: mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, sexy time (y/n has female genitalia!) pls no minors!!

word count: 6.3k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. y/n and vernon work at a bar.

note: our next stop in my fav little movie inspired writings is he's just not that into you!! a true classic in my eyes. and who better to be our male lead than bernon himself, a perfect silly goofy man. i acc tried to edit and be good?? for once.. lmao. love u xo. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Waltzing around your co-workers behind the bar like a choreographed dance, handing out drinks to some of your familiar customers, soaking cherries in alcohol, and stuffing your tips inside of your folder for the night it was a perfect distraction from the thoughts running through your mind about that awful date you had gone on the night before. 

You were convincing yourself all the guys you’ve been out with just weren’t for you, maybe to make yourself feel better, maybe just to put blame on someone else for the reasons you can’t seem to surpass a second date. 

“Y/N, could I get two vodka martinis. One dirty and one with a twist, twice shaken please.” 

“No problem, Som.” 

Somi was one of your co-workers and someone you’ve become close friends with working with her over the course of a year when the bar first opened. standing by your side on  the busiest night of the week, the other was Vernon,  he was slightly newer and unfamiliar standing next to you behind the bar, girls flirting with him left, right and center hoping to crack open his quiet yet charming exterior. 

Taking orders upon orders your body was craving a moment to yourself, being an introvert and working in a high volume environment with the type of company that spends hundreds of dollars a night just to sit at a table and feel important takes a toll on you. 

“Vernon, would you be cool if I stepped outside for a second?” 

“Yeah, no problem. I’m good.” 

“Alright, thanks I’ll be back in five.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Nothing more than his simple answers, for the most all you know about him is he’s your age, in college not sure what major he could possibly be studying, and he lives decently close to the bar, coming in on his days off with groups of his friends to have a drink of his own made at your own hands. 

Stepping outside the employee entrance into the back of the building, feeling the cool air light up your body, you decided to light up something of your own, a small perfectly rolled cigarette wrapped up in its signature strawberry flavored paper and vanilla tobacco inside. 

Three minutes into your first break of the night, the door slid open revealing the quiet boy standing in its frame. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, I actually need your help. A big group of finance dudes came in.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll save it for later.” 

Dipping the pastel candy like cigarette into the ashtray, basically kissing it and saying you’ll see it soon, you stepped back in with Vernon to your front strolling through the back room full of fresh liquor bottles. 

“This is a weird question. But what were you smoking? It smells good. Actually, normally cigarettes make me nauseous as hell.” 

“Oh. It’s a vanilla tobacco, but my rolling papers are strawberry so it’s kind of sweeter that way.” 

“No wonder. I always thought you smelt like vanilla musk, but I knew it was something different. I just assumed it was perfume. I like it.” 

“Thanks, Vern.” 

“Yeah. Want to take the table? Or wait for them to come up to us?” 

“I’ll go.” 

“Alright.” 

Cutting around the marble countertop, trying to avoid the patrons sitting at the end of the bar. You spot the group of men wearing their fancy suit jackets, and various colors of button down tops. One of them in particular was your date from a few weeks ago. The one who left you a post it note on your nightstand to wake up to basically telling you he wouldn’t call but thanks for the fuck. 

Swilling your pride, you stayed walking towards them, now with the pretty smile usually wiped across your face lost and turned into a closed lip grin. 

“Hey, what can I get for you guys?” 

“I’ll take you with a side of bourbon on the rocks please.” 

“Clever. I’m not on the menu. Anything for you.” 

Your fingers pointed towards the rest of the helm just patiently waiting for more unusual comments and weird flirting tactics. 

Your date though, kept his head buried in his menu, avoiding making eye contact with you out of his own embarrassment making you decide to fuck with him a little in front of his annoying crowd of friends. 

“And anything for you, Chris? Jack Daniels and Coke with a splash of cherry I presume? Or are you going to write your order down on a post it note?” 

His crowd erupted in laughter, clearly aware of his tactics when he leaves girls and decides to not call them back.

He muttered back it was fine as you walked off back to Vernon watching on with a smirk on his face. 

“You know him I assume?” 

“Unfortunately I do.” 

“Can I ask how?” 

You contemplated telling him a lie, just something simple like he was an old friend or an ex-boyfriend, but in order to keep him from opening up to you, you chose the real reason. 

“Actually we went out a few weeks ago. In the morning I woke up to a note taped to my pillow saying how he wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore but thanking me for being a good fuck and being so accommodating and sexy.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“I’m not kidding.” 

“Want me to spit in his drink?” 

“Yes. But I don’t want you to lose your job. It’s alright, not the first time for me unfortunately and actually maybe one of the nicer ones.” 

“Not the first time a dude you’ve fucked wrote you a note saying he’s not into you?” 

“There’s been worse believe it or not.” 

“You’ve piqued my interest.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“How do you meet dudes like that?”

“I’m a lucky girl, now do me a favor and take these drinks to them, because if I do I’ll probably say some shit I’ll regret.” 

“Alright. What’s his name?” 

“Who?” 

“Asshole over there.” 

“Chris” 

“Cool. Thanks.” 

“Vernon why?” 

“No reason, keep working.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“My whole vibe is stupid, be back in a second.” 

Watching the boy out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he placed everyone’s drinks for them, reaching Christopher last, pretending to trip over his chair, spilling the alcoholic concoction over his pants. 

“Dude what the fuck?” 

“Oh shit, my bad. Let me get you a new one.” 

“Why the fuck are you so clumsy, how am I going to get a girl here when I look like I pissed myself?” 

“The girls that come in here don’t want some bitch who drinks cherry whiskey and Coke, they like real men. But I’ll be back in a second.” 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

“You heard me, man. One second alright I’ll be back with your bitch drink.” 

Chris’s friends seem to be enjoying watching his night being turned into a shit storm, assuming they maybe don’t enjoy his company much either. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“He seems like a tool, he’ll be fine.” 

“Well thank you. It was funny, I had to hold my laughter in so he doesn’t think I made you do that for me.” 

“Safe bet.” 

Your night continued on until midnight when all the happy and drunk patrons exited the restaurant and you got to cleaning up the bar space, leaving you, Vernon, and Somi alone in the dimly lit room. 

“Vernon? Want to stay and have a drink as a thank you for helping me out. Somi would but she has to get back to her ball and chain.” 

“Are we allowed to do that?” 

“Well my dad owns the place, I don’t think he cares much.” 

“You’re dad? Wait what the fuck, I never put that together.” 

“Yeah. Him and his friends.” 

“Holy shit.” 

Laughing along with Somi at his amazement, you bid her goodbye before sliding into a bar top table, holding the glass of vodka in your well manicured fingers. 

Much to your surprise your more than shy coworker decided to stay with you sliding in next to you holding his own glass of beer. 

“So wait. I’m confused. Your dad and his friends opened the bar. Why do you want to work here?” 

“Easy. I always liked the idea of being a bartender and my parents would kill me for being a kid who didn’t have a job or work ethic and just using their money.” 

“Got it. Aren’t you in school?” 

“ I haven’t decided what to go for yet so I’m taking some time. Not sure yet. You?” 

“Journalism.” 

“For real? That’s cool as hell.” 

“Yeah.” 

Your phone lit up on the table blasting the ringtone really loudly in between you and Vernon, flashing the name Matthew on the screen. 

“Hey. Yeah, this is her. Oh really? Can you hold on just ONE second. Thanks.” 

Vernon waved you along letting you go on with the conversation with the guy who's been taking you on dates for the past week, curious why he’d be calling you late. 

 “Wait since I’m out of the loop, who was that?” 

“You really want to know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so his name is Matt. We met at the coffee shop a few weeks ago. He was cute. He paid for my drink and we just sort of hit it off.” 

“Have you guys slept together?” 

“Yeah. The first day we met.” 

“Y/N no. You’ve got to make these guys wait. Like they’re getting exactly what they want from you before you even know if they’re fucking idiots or not.” 

“Really? Does that actually work though? I mean you heard him say he likes his ex there’s nothing I can change about that?” 

“Did you ask when his last relationship was before you guys started dating?” 

“Yeah he said he’d been single for two months.” 

“Two months? And he’s already back with her? Or was he always seeing her when you guys were together? What kind of dates did you go on? Dinner? Or?” 

“Coffee sometimes, then he’d just come hangout at my place most of the time.” 

“So you never went to his?” 

“No.” 

“So he was cheating on his girlfriend with you?” 

“What? No, he said he was single.” 

Vernon ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh before looking back at you. 

“You guys met for coffee, you’d have him over to your place during the day, you’d have sex and he’d leave? You never saw his apartment? He just confessed that he’s been seeing his so-called ex over the phone the whole time you guys were quote on quote dating. He definitely lives with her and was fucking you for fun. You weren’t dating.” 

“Speaking from experience, Vernon?” 

“No. I’ve only ever dated one person seriously.” 

“So why are you giving me advice about my dating life?” 

“Because I had a successful five year relationship and you’ve had none? And you seem to need it.” 

“Wow. I would normally be pissed, but you’re right. I can’t seem to tell what I’m  doing wrong actually. Maybe I'm destined to be single.” 

“Not true. You’re pretty, nice, and you’ve got a cool ass life. You’ll be fine, you just need some editing maybe.” 

“So what? You want to be my relationship guru? Or?” 

“Yes.” 

You outstretched your hand to his and he shook it for you, confirming your now partnership where he would help you with your dating life. 

“Wait, before we go further. Try this.” 

Lifting the straw to your lips for you, Vernon offered you a sip of the drink he made.

“Wait, that's good, what is that?” 

“That assholes drink.” 

“I hate that I actually fucking like it.” 

“Me too.” 

You and Vernon spend the rest of your night together shooting the shit and getting to know each other more, once two am rolls around you both decide to head out and walk home. 

“This is me.” 

Much to your surprise Vernon swipes his key card to enter the same building as you. 

“Wait, you live here? How come I’ve never seen you in the building?” 

“I just moved in like three weeks ago. I spend most of my time in my apartment with my cat if I'm not at school or work.” 

“What floor?” 

“Seven.” 

Pressing the number seven on the elevator button before you tapped number thirteen, you and Vernon rode silently up to your separate homes. 

Before stepping off onto his floor, he pressed the hold door button.

“Come over tomorrow around six? I know you have the night off so we can hangout or whatever.” 

“Okay. What should I wear?” 

“You’ll figure it out. You always look nice. Casual is fine.” 

Rolling your eyes to his back as he strode off to his front door, you yelled a goodnight out of the door before they clocked shit and ran you up to your own place. 

Waking up the next morning you stepped out of your bed and pulled out all the ingredients to make a perfect cup of coffee, something that was like a religious ritual for you to clear your head before starting your day. 

After the brew was finished dripping though your pour over carafe you decided to take in some sun on your balcony and prepare your mind for the rest of the day until you were set to get ready to hangout with Vernon. 

The unexpected invitation to go on a quote in quote fake date with the boy had your head confused. What should you wear? What should you do with the little information given to you about what’s going on? 

After spending a few hours outside with your coffee and disconnecting from your phone, you decided to head back inside and go through your closet in search of the perfect casual outfit. 

Placing options on your bed, you hopped into the shower and spent time under the hot steam scrubbing your body from head to toe. After you were satisfied with your cleanliness, you stepped out and sat at your vanity, drying your hair and curling the front two pieces of your perfectly done up-do, painted your nails a perfect cherry red color, and put on your typical makeup look. 

Sliding your slippers back on you stood now in front of the three tops hanging in front of you feeling them for the perfect vibe. Eventually selecting a simple white button down top to match your gray pleated short skirt, slipping up a pair of simple tights and black heeled knee high boots. 

Finally the time came for you to run down seven floors and step off to find Vernon, knocking on the door to the left of the elevator a woman who you’ve seen around the building once or twice answered. 

“I’m sorry, I think maybe I have the wrong apartment. Excuse me-“ 

“You’re y/n?” 

“Yes. Hi.” 

“Hi, I’m Vernon’s friend Chae. I like your outfit, it's super cute.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

Stepping into the similar shaped apartment to yours, you notice the colorful paintings all over the walls, the beautiful soft blue couch, and the cozy smell of fresh linen hitting your nose, as you walked in further you saw a group of various people sitting around in his living room, some pouring themselves drinks, some standing around eating snacks and talking. 

“Would you like water or a beer or anything?” 

“Oh no, I’m alright for now thank you.” 

“No problem, I’ll just go see what he’s up to. Excuse me.” 

“Sure.” 

After waiting five minutes in the threshold of Vernon’s front entry, he peeled around the corner, dressed in an oddly similar outfit to yours, minus the heels and mini skirt. 

His crisp white shirt and matching gray coat and pants, a black leather bag, carrying a pair of nice black sneakers in his hand. 

“Hey, sorry I accidentally spilled cola on my other shirt, I had to change.” 

“That’s alright. I like your outfit though, you look cool.” 

“Thank you, I like yours too. I told you about casual dress though.” 

“This is casual?” 

“If you say so. Want a cocktail or something?” 

“Uh, sure? Wait though I thought we were going out or something, I didn’t know you had company. I can leave?” 

“No. Well, we’re going out a little later to a party,  I wanted to invite you, come on.” 

You stepped into his kitchen where he had various types of alcohol scattered on the counter, next to slices of pizza and a couple bags of chips. 

You looked around the room at the new faces, some of them you recognized from Vernon bring them to the bar with him. 

“Want the asshole special again? I actually made myself one.” 

“Weirdly I do, yeah.” 

Vernon laughed as he mixed you the same concoction he spilled the night before, handing it over to you gracefully. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem. This is a weird question, but did you roll any of your cigarettes or have any of those cute papers you use? I told my friend about them and he wanted to find some to roll a joint with.” 

Digging through your bag you pulled out the small case full of tobacco and papers from inside, holding out the pack to him to give to his friend, someone who you’re sure you’ll meet at one point or another. 

“Wow. Thank you.” 

“It’s cool, I have a bunch anyway. So, what does this have to do with you being my relationship guru anyway?” 

“Nothing actually. Just wanted to hangout with you more.” 

“Oh, right.” 

Something about Vernon being so kind to you and sticking up for you last night and today was making you see him in a different light almost like you were starting to have a crush on him. But he could never be into you that way, especially seeing how he interacted with his friend Chae. 

Walking around his apartment and saying hello to his friends, you chose a seat adjacent to the couch, one that was unoccupied and slightly out of the way. 

Some of his friends knew who you were without you even having to mention it. Talking and getting to know them. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but stumbled upon a room adorned with movie posters and music equipment. 

“The bathroom is right here.” 

Vernon pointed to the unlatched door down the hall, the same position as yours. 

“I know. I live here too. I was just being nosy.” 

“Oh. That's cool, you can check it out if you want.” 

Stepping into his office space, you smiled looking around at his various media and collectables, staring at the framed record on the wall signed by an artist you like yourself. 

“This is yours?” 

“Yeah. I got it as a birthday present when I was like eighteen. I love it.” 

“Sick.” 

“Sick? You’re so weird. Do people say that shit still?” 

“Fuck off. People definitely still say that.”  

“Not cool people.” 

“You literally told me I was cool yesterday?” 

“I spoke too soon.” 

As you and Vernon were standing in his room laughing, Chae appeared behind you both without your knowledge and gripped Vernon’s side, scaring the both of you with his reaction and finding her laughing her ass off. 

“You should have seen your guys’ faces. It was too easy.” 

“You’re such an asshole, I almost hit you.” 

“I’d like to see you try, big boy.” 

You just smiled, feeling a little awkward watching Vernon flirting with his friend.

“We want to head out, are you guys ready?” 

“I’m good, I think Y/N had to use the restroom though?” 

“Yeah. It’s okay, I think I might just head back to my place. I have a headache, but you guys have fun.” 

“No way, come on, take some tylenol and let's go.” 

“Chae. Let her leave if she doesn't feel good.” 

“She obviously wants to leave because she found your weird collection of fucking disney vhs tapes, not because of her headache.” 

“Not true.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll come, just let me use the restroom fast. I’ll meet you.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaving you to do your business, Chae handed you two small white pills from her bag, and a swig of her beer to wash them down with before heading behind Vernon as they got ready to leave for the next location. 

After a few minutes  of walking you and Vernon’s friends  pulled up outside a bar you’ve never been to but heard a lot of your friends enjoyed, amply titled Love Bites.  

Vernon held onto your shoulders and walked you into the front door of the bar, pushing you towards a table where he told you to sit down and wait, as he walked away and left you with his friend to order everyone a round of drinks. 

The seat next to you that you’d hoped Vernon would fill was taken by a dark haired boy you hadn’t recognized from earlier back at the apartment. 

“Y/n? Hi, I’m Joshua. 

“Oh. Hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Vernon’s friend just so you don’t think I’m some random dude.” 

“Right. I figured.” 

“Actually I was the one who asked for the papers, thank you by the way.” 

“Yeah, no problem. Do you smoke? Like weed or?” 

“Yeah, just weed. I used to smoke cigarettes and vape for a while or whatever, but I stopped for a while. I just realized it was a boring habit.” 

“How’d you know I had strawberry papers, did Vernon tell everyone?” 

“No, no. He just said you were cool. Very friendly, but you didn’t talk about yourself enough and that you have nice smelling cigarettes that you smell like sometimes. Nothing too much really.”

“Oh. No dirty details about my weird dating life he pressed me about?”  

“Nothing about that, but he knows about my awful habits too. He always tells me I need serious help.”

“Yes. Me too, I called him a relationship guru.” 

“He thinks he is, but he’s had a crush on the same girl for a while. I'm not sure who she is, he never told me anything more about it. I’m not sure he’s the guy I’d trust to set me up that's for sure.” 

“Oh really? Is it, you know?” 

You pointed with your eyes across the table to Chae who was seated next to Vernon’s side. 

“I don’t think so. She’s definitely been in love with him forever, they were friends when they were kids and rekindled a few years ago when she moved back to town. She's really obvious about it, but he never said anything.” 

“Ah, I don’t know he seems to flirt with her alot.” 

“He’s just like that with everyone, overly friendly, kind of dorky.” 

“I see that.” 

You spent the entire night talking and getting to know Joshua, surprisingly finding out a lot of things that made you more and more intrigued about him. 

When the night finally came to a close, you left with his number and a plan to go out with just the two of you a few days later. Maybe Vernon being your friend was going to pay off more than you knew and his relationship guru advice brought you right into the hands of his very good friend. 

In the next few weeks you continued working and getting to know the pervious shy boy you thought Vernon was and going on actual good dates with his friend Joshua, who much to your surprise wasn’t the type to fuck you and forget you on a first date. 

Months passed by as your casual dating with Joshua went on and on, thinking that while it was good something with him was missing. But, you kept giving him a chance anyway. Unaware what that something was. 

On a night where you were getting ready to go out for a date you found Vernon outside of your apartment door, knocking on it wildly waiting for you to come and answer. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Y/n.” 

“Want to come in?” 

“No. Yes? Is that alright?” 

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird as hell.” 

Vernon just nodded his head and sat down on your couch. 

“Are you getting ready to head out? You look really nice. I feel like I’m interrupting something.” 

“No. I just got home from a date actually. Why?” 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

“It would help if you stopped saying sorry and told me what was wrong.” 

“Chae.” 

“Oh?” 

“She was over at my apartment. We were just playing video games and having some beer or whatever, but she tried to kiss me. And I let her at first, but I didn’t want to kiss her. I never have. I know she’s pretty and whatever, but like..” 

“Wait. So why did you come up here?” 

“Because I didn’t know what else to do? She’s still downstairs, she said she won't leave until we talk about what happened and she’s crying. I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested in her romantically and I liked being her friend, but she won’t take no for an answer. I just didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry I interrupted your nice night like this.” 

You walked over into the kitchen and poured Vernon a glass of water to hopefully settle him from rambling so much. 

“Can I ask you why you aren’t interested in her? I always assumed you guys had something going on.” 

“No. Never. She’s not my taste, I mean she’s really cool. But we’re really similar and I don’t want to date someone who reminds me too much of myself otherwise I’d get bored, but never break it off maybe because I’m too nice or maybe because I feel too comfortable. Does that make any sense?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Plus, I told her I liked someone else anyway and she got even more upset. She started accusing me of being a liar and leading her on.” 

“I’ll be honest and when I first met her I thought you liked her too, but the more I got to know you I realized you pretty much act that way around everyone you’re comfortable with.” 

“Right.” 

“Want me to help you get her out of your apartment?” 

“You would?” 

“Yeah. I still owe you for spilling that drink a long time ago.” 

“My god, no you don’t” 

“Shh, in my heart I do. Are you staying here or coming?” 

“I’ll come.” 

Heading down the elevator still in your nice date outfit, you grabbed his keys and unlocked his front door to find Chae still sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come home. 

Looking her up and down you found her dressed in shorts two sizes too small with Vernon’s T-Shirt draped over her body. Clinging to his pillow and looking you up and down. 

“What the fuck is she doing here, Vernon? She’s not a part of this at all.” 

“Actually, I’m here to ask you to politely get the fuck out of his apartment and stop making him feel bad for not liking you.” 

“You’re such a bitch, he does like me. The person he doesn’t like is you, so maybe you should get the fuck out of here. He just feels sorry for you.” 

“Chae, that’s not true and don’t talk to her like that.” 

“You’re actually defending her? She hasn’t been nice to me once since she met me. She just acts like an entitled brat around me all the time, making me feel stupid. She’s not a part of this conversation at all, don’t you understand how insane this is?” 

“She is a part of it actually, because she’s the girl I have a crush on and if I wasn’t so focused on making everyone else around me happy at the price of myself I would’ve been able to tell her that already instead of doing it like this.” 

“Verno-” 

“Her? You fucking like her? Seriously? She told me she never would date someone like you and that you’re dorky and a loser.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s never happened. You’re the one who parades around making me feel like an idiot and that I'm not good enough to be friends with Vernon. You know who’s being an entitled brat? You. You’re kicking this poor guy out of HIS apartment for not liking you back like a child, you’re sitting on his couch in HIS clothes, waiting for him to come back to you to try to pressure him into being with you when he told you he likes someone else. If you’re such a good ass friend to him like you constantly claim to be, then maybe be that good friend and get the hell up, give him his shirt back and get the fuck out or you can talk to him like the adult that you are and try to understand how he feels and continue being his friend. If you don’t like either option I don’t know what else to tell you. So, what will it be?” 

“If I talk to him, you need to get the fuck out of here, I don’t want you around.” 

“Fine with me, but stop being such an insufferable bitch and maybe have some compassion. Goodnight.” 

Not wanting to wait around for the elevator, you slammed Vernon’s door shut leaving them to have their conversation and walked up the seven flights of stairs back into your cozy home untainted by her bad energy. 

Hours later after you were showered and ready to destress from the absolute chaos your night has been, you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat on your to smoke a nicely rolled joint as a treat to yourself, leaving your phone inside your room and out of your eyesight. 

Suddenly mid-inhale another knock came to your door, half of you wanted to pretend you were asleep, but another part of you assumed whoever it was must have an issue with you smoking inside your home. 

Looking through the peephole of your front door, you saw for the second time in the night Vernon standing outside, now in his plaid pj pants and a hoodie pacing around waiting for you to answer. 

Taking in a deep breath you opened the door and took one look at his messy hair, realizing he must have been trying to sleep, but couldn’t. 

“Yes?” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Be my guest. Sorry I’m smoking weed inside, it smells weird.” 

“Can I have a hit actually?”

“Sure.” 

“Thanks.” 

Handing over the pink flower, Vernon took an incredibly long hit of the weed, exhaling it creating a cloud over the two of you. 

“Wine?” 

“Uh, not yet. Can I confess something to you?” 

“Is it about the girl you like?” 

“Sorry you had to find out like that. I was planning on telling you, but then you started seeing Josh and whatever else it just got away from me, it wasn’t the right time I know. I just let it slip.” 

“It’s okay, Vernon” 

“It’s not, especially when you’re not single. I feel like I ruined any relationship we had with saying it, even our platonic one.” 

“When you talked about ruining my nice night before? Didn’t you wonder why I was coming home from a date at 7:00pm? It was because I actually just broke it off with Joshua. He was really nice about it of course, but I just felt like we were friends and nothing more.” 

“Oh. So you’re not?” 

“Dating him? No.” 

“So I didn’t ruin it?” 

“My night? Not at all, it wasn't that great anyway.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” 

Vernon took the opportunity to steal your glass of wine and downed it right then and there whispering a small sorry to you for doing so. 

“Okay, so. I knew I liked you the moment we started working together. I wasn’t sure how to tell you ever, I wasn’t even sure how to talk to you because you made me feel so awkward, not because you were mean or anything, just because I knew I’d sound like a fucking dumb ass. But, that night we first walked home together and had a drink. I found out so much about you, I liked you even more so I asked you to come and hangout with us at my place, I figured I could get some courage to finally ask you out, which ultimately I failed at again and it just spiraled out of control. It’s just gotten more and more bad for me, like bad in the sense I just can’t stop falling for you and you didn’t know. Until I essentially fucked it up further telling you I like you infront of Chae, which was a mistake too. I keep fucking it up.” 

“You're doing pretty good if you ask me, but you should’ve just told me a long time ago then none of this crazy shit would have happened.” 

“That's charming, no?” 

“Only because it's you.” 

“Look, I don’t need an answer from you now or ever, just know I wont be fucking weird about it anymore. I’ll let you go to bed. I’ll see you in a few days at work and everything will be good.” 

Vernon got up and tried to walk towards your front door for an exit, but you caught up to him in time, grabbing him by his shoulders and spinning him around just in time to plant a perfectly placed kiss on his pink lips. 

“I like that you’re fucking weird and for your information I admire your dumb vhs tape collection.” 

Vernon took his opportunity to kiss you again, even longer this time than the first one, pushing his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as his hands snaked their way around your body. 

“You taste like vanilla too.” 

“Nice?” 

“Perfect.” 

“Would us having sex count as us fucking on the first date?” 

“This would be considered fucking before the first date.” 

“Ah, I see. Is that a no-no?” 

“I’ll let it slide.” 

Vernon lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his long torso, and carried you onto your couch, setting you down to be perfectly face to face with his enclosed penis, now beginning to grow inside of his pants. Dipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants you grazed the tips of your fingers over the head of his dick, making him shiver from the cold touch of your hands. 

Unwrapsping him like a present, his penis flew from his waistband and you quickly wrapped your lips around the soft pink skin, slightly creating a suction cup with your lips as his hands found their way to the back of your head and he fucked your face gently. 

As his speed picked up, the head of his dick was pounding its way to the back of your throat making him weak in the knees and unsure how much longer he could go on like this without relieving himself inside of your mouth. 

In order to savor this moment further, he against his better judgment pulled you off of him and got on his knees in front of you, running a finger down your neck, placing soft kisses on your lips and all the way down to your sternum, his fingers following along. 

Pushing over your panties to the side he ran those same fingers up and down your wet center, making you moan and push onto him, begging for him to put them inside of you without many words. 

When he was finally done teasing you, he placed his first two fingers at the entrance and ran his thumb over your clit making you squirm and let out a small moan, trying to grind your way further onto him. 

With the same speed as before he started pumping his fingers into your wet center, crawling his way into your body and making you overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Suddenly he was four fingers deep stretching you out as a preparation for you to be comfortable fucking his much larger dick when suddenly you squirted all over his bare chest, slinking back onto the couch in a fit of heavy breathing. 

Vernon didn’t let you off the hook though, he grabbed onto you hips, carrying you onto the floor under him. Finally fucking you through your previous orgasm, riding into the sensitive waters of your clit, softly sucking on your nipples as he slowly thrusted himself onto you, almost like it was the only way to cure the aching in your center. 

As the sweat and your bodily fluids mix their way together, the heavy breathing slowed to near silence, watching him in ecstasy fucking into you, noticing the beauty of the way his eyelashes ran across his cheeks and the small light gold flecks in his eyes. He’s never been more beautiful to you than he was tonight. 

Suddenly in your daze his lips came onto yours before he slightly lifted them off of you to whisper while they still grazed over the top. 

“Can I come inside?” 

“Please.” 

And with your verbal confirmation Vernon filled up your body with his semen and rode into his very own orgasm as well. 

Kissing you once again he got up and ran into your bathroom to grab a clean towel for you both to clean up with and laid back down next to you on the floor. 

Suddenly the two of you erupted into laughter, just thinking about how stupid you both were to see chemistry between you was about as hot as the sex you both indulged in. 

“I can’t believe you were going to leave.” 

“I can’t believe I thought you weren’t into me.” 

“Who said I wasn’t lying?” 

“The way you were moaning and fucking into me told me all I needed to know.” 

“Ok, hot shot.” 

“So about that first date?” 

“It’s on.” 

#❃ - duffytalks #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #svt reactions #seventeen imagines #svt fic #svt texts #seventeen smut #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #seventeen vernon x reader #seventeen x oc #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #svt x oc #svt x you #svt x y/n #svt ff #seventeen oneshot

[bettyfrommars]

Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.

I’m over summer, sue me.

🧡🖤

Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k

I'm just a sucker (for you)

“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face.  “I knew I felt its presence.”

Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat.  “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”

You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name.  You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick.  Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.

You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention.  It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was.  His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.  

“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter.  You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.

But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him.  Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.  

The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van.  The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.

Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention.  He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively.  “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”

His mannerisms made you chuckle.  “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”

Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”

The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.  

“Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment.  You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.  

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed.  “Wouldn't you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Please, you have about as much game as I do.  There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”

“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter.  “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.  

You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you.  It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.  

It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead.  “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too.  No one I know has ever even heard of it.”

“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it.  It’s a masterpiece.”

You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything.  As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.  

“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look.  “I guess you do like spending time with me?”

“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.  

There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again. 

With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat.  “Do you, um,  have any plans for Halloween?”

“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh.  Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns.  “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb.  “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”

You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.  

“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air.  “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene.  I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”

“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart.  “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”

 “Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans.  “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”

“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead.  “Hold on, I love this part.”

You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t.  You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand.  The distance was suddenly too far.  

It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”

“You come from Pennsylvania

I’m from Transylvania

And I’m a pain in the neck...

When I kiss and fondle her

It’s like making love to a 

Colander”

You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.  

 “Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks.  “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #October #Halloween #drive-in movie #fall #eddie x reader #requests

[oh-meretseger]

part 4 - Tease

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

summary: the sexual frustration between you gets to its peak when your first kiss happens (🥹), starting a game of brutal teasing on both sides

notes: 18+! although not so much of a smut (some public touching and groping, making out hehe), mainly fluff, some cute moments before posting some disgustingly dirty smut in the next chapter lmao

word count: 4,6k

"Sasha, stop calling me pookie bear or I'm going ballistic" Jean calmly blinked in her direction after setting the empty box of pad thai down. Sasha was already on her third portion, mercilessly stuffing her face full like she's been starving for a week.

"But you're my pookie bear, what do you mean?" Sasha's jaw stopped chewing, stunned for a moment by hearing such astonishing nonsense, as she stared back at Jean. She notoriously got addicted to every single silly nickname she made up for her friends, and used it uncontrollably until she discovered a new one.

Jean let out an exhausted sigh, but still leaned back on his bed with a chuckle as he shook his head.

"And what about me?" Connie complained loudly from the other bed with a mouth full of noodles. None of the three were giving any more fucks about the movie playing on Connie's notebook in the background.

"You're my pookie pie"

"Yeah, I like pie" Connie shrugged, giving his blessing as Sasha nodded diligently.

"I know"

"Yeah, but I'm not a bear, so how does that work?" Jean huffed, holding back a smile at how Sasha's expression instantly turned outraged, just like he guessed.

"You are!" Sasha snapped at him and Jean laughed out loud. "You're a big ass hairy animal, but still cute and huggable"

"Ah right, thanks" Jean's ironic tone did not faze her in the slightest.

"I'm deeply sorry bro, but I wouldn't say you're cute, at all" Connie's eyes were back on the movie, although his attention was fully on the brilliant, highly knowledgeable conversation in the background.

"Y/N thinks you are" Sasha shrugged carelessly while ruthlessly devouring her last bites of dinner, and Jean's heart started pounding in his chest all of a sudden.

He cleared his throat to avoid choking on his own saliva, and tried to reply just as casually as Sasha spit out this small little information.

"What do you mean?" Jean couldn't believe how flustered he became by simply hearing your name. He didn't like it. The hell is his heart beating so fast for?

"She has the biggest crush on you, don't tell me you didn't notice" Sasha giggled to herself at Jean's honest, dumb expression. She found you two idiots adorable, pretending you didn't absolutely have the hots for each other.

"The hell are you on? They're at each other's throats all the fucking time" Connie turned his head at hearing such nonsensical gibberish.

"I truly feel sorry for you men sometimes" Sasha blinked at two of the most imbecile faces she's ever seen. "Are you really that slow?! Why in tarnation do you think I left you two alone?"

Jean felt heat spread through his body as images of you popped up in his memory, your warm body against his, teeth sunk into his skin...

"They fucked?!" Connie yelled out in shock and Jean couldn't help cracking up at how serious he sounded.

"Not YET" Sasha looked at Connie with a nod of true wisdom as Jean huffed in disapproval. Although deep inside, a feeling of excitement started to make him tingle.

"Shut your silly mouth, Sasha" Jean snapped at her, holding back a smile trying to climb up on his face all the way from his heart. "You've been acting a fool since you started latching onto that canteen guy"

"My brother in Christ, you're in denial" Sasha gave up. She already knew you were bound to be together anyway. "And I've always been silly, Niccolo just brings out the best in me"

"I love that guy, he makes the best risottos" Connie agreed in his own way, still pretending to watch the movie.

"He cooks me his secret special meals" she added, her eyes literally sparkling with pure bliss as she said those words, and Jean rolled his eyes. "I'm bringing him to your party, Consuelo"

"That's literally not my name" Connie stated, not even moving his eyes from the screen in front of him.

"Okay, Conrad"

"I'm texting Marco to come" Jean grabbed his phone, verbalizing his actions as both Sasha and Connie turned their head in excitement.

"Yesss, I miss Marco!"

You were rather anxious about this party. Connie's parents lived close to the campus, and the group of people Connie invited over to their house sounded fun when Sasha listed them all to you in detail. But still, there was something unnerving about a night of careless fun, coming out of your little shell and letting yourself go in front of such new people, in front of Jean.

"C'mon, we're gonna have an amazing time!" Sasha encouraged you after seeing a small anxious frown form on your face.

"I know, it's always an amazing time with you guys" you smiled, your heart pounding hard at the thought of seeing Jean at the party. "But what should I wear?"

"POOKIE, let me help you with that" Sasha jumped up from your bed and shot straight to your closet, as you watched her with an entertained grin.

You walked down the hallway on the way to your afternoon class, Friday leaving a freeing bliss in your chest as you listened to your playlist. The always busy corridor was now almost empty, everyone having left the stress of weekdays behind to finally enjoy their free time. Anxiety turned into a small glimpse of excitement in your stomach the past few days, and you couldn't wait for it to be tomorrow night.

Your headphones suddenly flying off of your head jerked you out of being in your own thoughts, and before you could even react, a strong hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a narrow passageway with an overwhelming force.

Your body crashed into a much larger frame, and a familiar sense of warmth flowed through you as Jean's smell hit your nose before you could even get a look at your kidnapper.

"Hey! Give it back!" your hand shot towards his immediately, but of course with one movement of his arm your headphones were instantly removed far from your reach, as he held it up above his head. A grin grew on his face as he looked down at you, his other hand still squeezing your wrist, and once again, you felt your cheeks get warm under his intense stare. That stupid cocky grin of his...

"D'you think I should?" Jean's voice was smooth and low, enough to make your mind go hazy. You couldn't believe how fast it all could get too much. His intoxicating scent, the warmth of his body as he towered over you, his fingers' touch on your skin, his voice and beautiful hazel eyes melting you into a puddle...

You felt weak.

"Can you stop doing that? My arm is getting all bruised up from you pulling on it" you sneered up at him, not even trying to get further away as your bodies pressed into each other. Jean's eyes slipped down to your plump lips as you mockingly smirked. "And kidnapping me"

"Kidnapping you? You could definitely not move your little hands around like that, if I were to kidnap you" Jean's raised hand inched lower and lower to slowly put your headphones around your neck as your eyes desperately pierced into his. You felt yourself melt into him, his look deliberately making you go soft and mindless, as his delicious-looking lips were so dangerously close to you...

As Jean's other hand became free, it slid down on the sleeve of your hoodie to grab your other wrist. The hard grip of his hands restraining yours was enough to make you soaking wet.

And that strangely made your confidence bounce right back.

"Why are you stalking me anyway?" you stared into his eyes with a self-assured smile slightly curving your lips.

Jean felt blood rush right to his crotch at the devilish sparkle in your eyes, almost visibly turning dark as you looked up at him. What a naughty girl.

Although weakness was palpable in the air between both of you. You both knew you would fold the moment your hips pressed into each other just a tad bit more.

Jean's hands gripping your wrists moved them behind your back with a swift motion.

"Don't think so highly of yourself, Miss Important" he smiled and you felt yourself blushing again as his arms pulled your body more into his, cuffing your hands behind you. Being controlled by Jean's big arms felt... Heavenly. "You want me to stalk you, don't you?"

"Unlike yourself, I'm not a pervert, dumbass" you let the magic word slip from between your lips, and warmth filled your chest as Jean cracked up. You felt like you could stay in his embrace forever, looking at his handsome face and beautiful smile endlessly... If your pussy didn't ache from the tension of being restrained by his tall frame. "You're lucky you have such pretty eyes, otherwise I would be kneeling on your back right now"

Your obvious joke of physically overcoming him flew right over his head as your words of praise reached his ears - and a slight tint of pink immediately dusted his cheeks. From ear to ear.

You couldn't believe your eyes.

"Jean" your smile grew into the widest grin as the rarest species on planet Earth, flustered Jean hesitated momentarily, looking into your eyes. "Are you-"

You stopped your own words. Instantly wanting to tease him was like a natural instinct, but in a matter of moments, your urge to deepen that adorable blush on his face became overwhelming. You wanted him to know how much your lips desired his at that very moment. You wanted to make him feel good, you wanted to feel good.

Jean felt your body rise onto tiptoes under his arms as your heels parted from the ground and in a second, your face reached his, your lips connecting in a soft kiss.

You immediately melted at feeling each other's lips, sensitive nerves making your hungry minds explode with pleasure. Jean felt all tension leave your body, and let go of one of your wrists to catch you from collapsing. You literally felt your knees give out. Jean's arm felt so strong as it snaked around your waist, you barely audibly whimpered into the kiss - and Jean felt himself grow hard at the sweet sound.

"Mmph y- your lips feel so good" you mumbled against his soft lips and Jean was seeing stars. He never imagined your honeylike voice to be able to make him crumble even more in real life, than on the phone the other day. Your body so hot against his, the touch of your lips so plump and sweet on his, your scent making him feel like he was drunk out of his mind.

Jean let out a quiet moan as your tongue danced along his lower lip, then slipped into his mouth eagerly. Immediately after you granted access, his tongue answered, sliding against yours, and you felt warmth flooding your pussy at the wet sounds you two were making. Jean's one hand gripping your wrist, the other one slowly sliding on the side of your waist, finding its way under your hoodie, making contact with the sensitive skin close to your breast...

It all felt so filthy, you were turned on beyond belief.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Jean grunted quietly after your lips parted, looking into your big, pleading eyes, but you already missed their warmth, so you softly pressed your lips back to his.

“What?” you whispered against him, your eyelids low from the heavenly feeling, and you felt Jean’s lips curve into a smile.

“You make me want to rip this off of you, right here, right now” Jean pulled on the sleeve of your hoodie, then with that same motion he grabbed your hand, removing it from its comfortable place on the side of his neck. You quietly whimpered as you felt one of his large hands gripping both of your wrists behind your back, his now free hand starting to slowly roam over your clothes. “You seem like the type of bad girl that likes the danger of getting caught”

“And you seem like the type to talk big, but do nothing” you knew exactly how bratty you sounded trying to tease Jean, but you also knew he had complete control over you. Your words were snarky, but your eyes blinked up at him with desperation, cheeks flushed with arousal.

Jean let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re right” he smiled, but a sinful light flashed in his hazel eyes. Oh, you’re in for it. His free hand skimmed down to the brim of your hoodie, lifting it to expose the jeans tight on your butt. You unintentionally let out a sigh as his fingers gripped into the fabric and he started groping your ass without any shame. “I wouldn’t have the balls to touch you like that”

You felt wetness soaking through your panties at his firm touch, his breath hot on your ear as he looked at his own hand’s movements over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t dare to pull these down” the groping stopped as a long finger creeped under the waist of your jeans, sending chills up your spine as he lightly dragged his fingertip along your skin. “What would we do if someone caught you with pants around your knees, moaning like a whore?”

“Jean” you quietly whined his name, losing your mind as his palm slid up your waist, over that stupid hoodie preventing his skin from touching yours.

“Getting desperate, are we?” he spoke softly, his hand stopping right at the underwire of your bra. Jean’s fingers moved carefully around the curve of your clothed tits, earning another whimper from you as you felt your pussy clench around nothing. “How outrageous would it be to grope your naked tits…”

You wanted him to grab them, feel the soft tissue with his hand, but Jean’s thumb just gently brushed over your nipple getting hard under the multiple layers of clothes.

“Or to take them into my mouth… Suck on them” Jean felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his groin as he pressed his thumb into the plush of your breast. Feeling you against himself, watching your eyes close in pleasure and your pretty swollen lips form an O made it extremely painful to hold his composure. Your flushed cheeks made him want to press you against the wall and do exactly what he just described. “A coward like me wouldn’t wanna get caught licking you, fingers buried in your wet little hole”

Jean felt his hard cock twitch in his pants as you pressed your hips even harder into him, desperate to feel his growing erection. His hand slid onto your delicate neck, fingers gently pushing into the sides.

“Holy-“ you mumbled, your head falling back as Jean leaned closer, his scruff scratching the sensitive skin as he earned access to your neck. His lips grazed over your skin, sending tingles down your body, and he deeply inhaled your sweet scent...

Then everything got cruelly ripped away from you in a matter of seconds.

“See ya tomorrow, smartass” you heard Jean’s voice and your eyes shot open, only to be met with his self-assured, cocky grin. He let go of your wrists and your neck, hands sliding into the pockets of his denim jacket while he stepped back, depriving you of the blissful heat of his body.

Jean felt so satisfied, so pleased with himself. You stood there for a moment, left utterly confused, your big eyes still eager, blinking towards him, swollen lips parted as if you wanted to say something, but the feeling of surprise made you catch your breath. You were so adorable, he had to hold back a chuckle.

He liked how confident sexual tension seemed to make you, but he just couldn’t help himself teasing you, making you go weak under his control.

“Je-“ a fragile little sound tried to break through the shock gripping your throat, but Jean’s reply cut you off as he turned his back to you, simply walking away.

“Tomorrow!”

You just stood there, astounded, your heart still racing, warmth filling your cheeks and panties damp from your wetness. Jean’s grip still burned the skin on your wrists and neck like a phantom. Your mind was so confused, you couldn’t even be mad at the man arrongantly strolling away from you like this was the most entertaining walk of his life.

And you completely forgot about the afternoon class you were originally headed to.

Frustration quickly turned into confidence as you stood in front of the mirror in your dorm after your little ice cream date with Sasha, getting ready for the party. It was a rare occasion, so you let your hair down, to Sasha’s biggest delight.

"You look sooo good, dear lord!" she exclaimed with an enthusiastic smile, encouraging you to do a little spin and she howled like a wolf.

"C'mon, it's not that special" you laughed at her excessive reaction. "But you do look breathtaking in that dress, emerald suits you"

"You think so?" Sasha looked down at herself, hands soothing the thin fabric. It was quite short, sleeves off the shoulders, showing off her delicate, pale skin. She truly looked beautiful.

"Niccolo's gonna pee his pants seeing you" you nodded and Sasha cracked up.

"He better pee his pants" she slipped her arms into her bolero. "And Jean better jizz his pants, to be honest"

"Sasha!" you chuckled as you shook your head, trying to shake off the thought of Jean orgasming, in any way, before your blushing could give any awkward feelings away. Sasha jumped to you and leaned over to pull your dress in all the right places to make it look even better. It was black and tight, its length ending right above your knees, but a longer slit letting one of your thighs be seen.

"What? You're a goddess, you better start believing that" Sasha threw her oversized leather jacket on your shoulders. "C'mon, grab your phone, let's go"

Connie's parents must be delighted to let a bunch of kids trash their house, you thought, as Sasha closed the door of your Uber and caught up to you waiting on the pavement. It seemed like a nice and quiet neighborhood, now muffled thuds breaking the silence of the street as you heard the bass of the music coming from inside.

"Bruh, Cornelius told me he invited twenty people at max" Sasha noted as you walked past a few unfamiliar faces sitting on the stairs of the front porch, drinking and cackling loudly. She swung the front door open like she owned the place, and the brutal noise hit you in your chest.

"Who the hell is Cornelius?" you asked with an amused laugh, but Sasha couldn't hear you anymore, the sound of loud music, people shouting, laughing and just generally being intoxicated deafening both of you. Sasha grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

Bumping into a bunch of strangers in a dimly lit room and loud noise overwhelming your senses was not how you imagined Connie's "friendly get together" to go.

"There he is" Sasha let go of your hand as you reached the kitchen, the lights brighter and the noise slightly less disturbing than in the crowded living room. You leaned against the doorframe where Sasha left you as you watched Sasha punch Connie's arm without a word being spoken between them.

"AARGH, are you out of your mind?" Connie jumped back from the open fridge in shock, his hand shooting towards the painful shoulder.

"You told me it was gonna be a small party! How are we supposed to order pizza for so many people?" Sasha yelled at him, absolutely infuriated about the food situation.

Non-existant food situation, may we add.

"Why should we order pizza for everyone?! I don't even know them, who cares?" Connie yelled back at her, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. "Did you come over to ask brainless questions, or will you let me have a fucking break?"

"Hi Y/n!" you suddenly heard your name from behind and your head snapped towards the familiar voice. You were met with Berthold's smile and his usual peaceful expression, not even minding Sasha and Connie killing each other in the background.

"Hi Bert" you smiled back, happy to see him. You rarely got to talk to him at the one single class you had together. "How are you?"

"Uh, good thanks, barely holding on inside this hell of a house" he replied and you chuckled, perfectly understanding his struggle with crowded, loud places.

"You're telling me! I feel like exploding and we just arrived" you shook your head. "Where's Annie?"

"We're sitting outside on the patio, you should join us. It's a lot more quiet out there" he suggested as a large hand slapped on his shoulder. You looked up at the tall man appearing next to Bert, broad shoulders towering over you, fingers running through his blonde hair, bright eyes and a charming smile glistening towards you. "This is my friend, Reiner, by the way. I don't think you've met"

"Nice to meet you, Reiner" you nodded with a friendly smile and he accepted your hand reaching towards him, shaking it gently.

"The pleasure's mine, Y/n" Reiner softly returned your smile, and you started to feel flustered at the intense eye contact. "How come I've never seen you around campus?"

"She's pretty lame, looks like a grey little mouse most of the time" an unmistakable voice appeared next to you, and you turned to Jean sticking out your  tongue in an instant. Bert rolled his eyes with a laugh and went over to the fridge, probably getting the drinks he originally came there for.

"Who asked the blockhead?" you snapped back as Jean stopped close to you, one arm pressing to yours, grinning down at you.

Your heart secretly started racing just by seeing him.

"Dunno man, looks like a gorgeous mouse to me" Reiner said winking at you, then turned and went to join Bert pondering in front of the open fridge. Warmth spread on your face as you watched Reiner grab a beer, and you deliberately avoided looking at Jean. "You want one, Jeanbo?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks" Jean replied casually, but clenched his teeth as he looked down at your face, blushed from his compliment. The hell are you blushing for? Is this buff jock what you're into? Reiner, really?

Jean's jaw relaxed at the thought of how you'd probably clown him for being jealous. Jealous, good lord... It was like you sensed his eyes stuck on you, you raised your face to look at him with those big, sparkling eyes.

How could he not be jealous?

"Big man's not wrong" Jean said softly, so only you could hear, his eyes glancing over your outfit, then back to your face, and you felt your cheeks burn under his look. "You look beautiful"

Your heart fluttered at his words and you couldn't help the smile instantly widening on your face. You turned your whole body towards Jean and felt your stomach flip at how his hazel eyes glistened right back at you with a warm smile.

"You look pretty handsome yourself" you grinned, moving to hold both of his hands. Jean's heart fluttered to the same rhythm yours did as the sight of your pretty smile and the touch of your fingers combined started to make him melt. "This shirt looks so good on you"

Your fingers ran along the collar of his dark button-up shirt, the fabric soft, comfy and smelling of his delicious scent.

"Don't try to make me blush, you little rat" he grunted with a low voice, making you laugh out loud, and he lifted his hands to grab both sides of your face, long fingers reaching into your hair at the nape of your neck. Tingles ran down your spine as your arms moved automatically to hug his waist as he stood so close to you. "Where are your glasses, smartass?"

"I'm wearing contacts" you blinked up at him as he stroked a few strands of your hair to tug them behind your ears.

Your stomach doing a backflip once again.

"I like the glasses" he brushed his thumb over your cheek, then looked back to your eyes, making your body burn with the familiar sense of warmth. "But you look pretty regardless"

You swallowed your reply as Jean's eyes shot to your lips. So plump and invitingly glistening with gloss. He wanted to kiss you so much.

"I like the earrings, too" Jean swiftly shifted his eyes to the little silver figures dangling from your ears. He  thought they wonderfully emphasized your delicate little neck.

"Thanks, they're ladybugs" you grinned and Jean chuckled.

"Are they your little magical ladybugs? I knew you were a witch" he watched with a smirk as you bursted into laughing. He also noticed the shimmery eyeshadow on your eyelids, and how the makeup and your jewellery complimented your look so well. Although he knew exactly how gorgeous you were without them.

"You're very attentive tonight, Jeanbo" you sneered at him and Jean rolled his eyes at your smug smile. He hated that nickname.

"He's my teammate, your ass is not allowed to use that name"

"Will I be allowed if I start beating you with a stick as well?" your smile widened at making Jean crack up.

"The hell do you think we do while playing hockey?" he laughed, one of his hands moving to grab your chin. "It's not just beating each other with sticks, believe it or not"

"Sure" you borderline didn't even know what you were talking about. Not even having a sip of alcohol yet, you smiled up at Jean drunkenly, intoxicated by how good he felt to all of your senses at that moment.

Sasha's loud sounds of excitement snapped you both out of your own little world.

"WHAT, they're filled with cherry cream?!" she covered her mouth with a hand, in a state of complete shock as Niccolo held out a tray of cupcakes in front of her.

Niccolo nodded with an enthusiastic smile in your direction, and you waved at him with an amused chuckle as Jean let go of you and walked over to them. You've already met Niccolo countless times, but you could never get enough of their emotion-filled interactions with Sasha - strong emotions about food, mostly.

"Hey!" Connie yelped as Sasha slapped his hand trying to steal from the dessert. "This is my house, give me a cupcake!"

"It's your father's house, Constance" Sasha stated seriously, and you bursted out laughing as Connie's low-lidded stare met your eyes. He was so tired of the names.

"Are you pulling these names out of your ass?"

"I'm pulling the cupcake out of your ass, if you dare to steal any of- HEY!" Sasha practically jumped on Connie's back as he rapidly grabbed one of them from the tray, trying to get away and stuff it into his mouth before Sasha could stop him.

A few people, unfamiliar with this otherwise very usual situation, quickly left the kitchen before they found themselves in the middle of a physical altercation, and you and Jean were in absolute hysterics.

"Eat it then, you fucking piece of pie!" Sasha shouted at Connie, still riding on his back, smearing the cherry cupcake around his face with her palm.

"Uh- Yo-" Connie's desperate attempts of yells were muffled as Niccolo tried to pull Sasha from him with no success. "Y'suff- You'll suffocate me!"

"Ah, feels like I never left town" a voice laughed loudly next to you, and you raised your teary eyes to look at the stranger. The tall, brunette man stepped straight to Jean, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he snatched his head in his direction.

"MARCO!"

#attack on titan #aot #attack on titan fluff #aot fluff #attack on titan smut #aot smut #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x y/n #aot x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan x you #aot x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #jean #jean smut #jean fluff #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein x you #jean x you #jean x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein fluff #jean kirstein x y/n #jean x y/n

[mysaintkitten]

Keeping Composure | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: neil teased you like crazy at a work-related gathering, so you decide to get him back (NSFW, no minors)

WARNINGS: public sex, oral sex (m receiving), brief facefucking, both reader and neil are a bit pervy lol

word count: i really don’t know. not too long. but it’s all smut. 🤷‍♀️

that little fucking slut. neil just couldn’t keep his hands off you the entire time you were at the gumshoe employee gathering. everyone knew you were a couple, but never in your nearly 11 months of dating has he ever shown the level of PDA he did that night. you didn’t know if it was maybe hormones, boredom, or just neil trying to get ballsy, either way- you didn’t appreciate it.

while talking to coworkers, he’d innocently place his hand on your back, but then not so innocently- would sneak it down and grip your ass, even sometimes slipping his hand directly under your skirt and between your legs from the back, applying slight pressure to your clothed pussy. the little touches throughout the night progressively got you more and more hot and bothered. but he was sneaky about it, he made sure to do it at times where no one could see, but he’d consistently do it when people were around.

then when you and your coworkers sat on the couch to watch some old, niche movie. you snuggled up with neil, thinking that this torture may be put on pause for now, but you had clearly spoke too soon. with the lights down low, and a couch all to yourself with neil, he made his boldest move yet. while everyone’s eyes were fixated on the screen, and the loud sound effects from the movies blared from the speakers, he snuck his hand into your panties. occasionally rubbing your clit softly, but for the most part just running his fingers along your folds. your eyes go wide and you grip his wrist, attempting to stop his movements. he persists for a few moments before finally giving in and removing his hand, then proceeding to bring the fingers up to his nose while smirking at you.

you smack his hand down lightly and shift your body back to face the screen “you’re such a fucking pervert” you whisper.

after you two had left, the build up from his touches had you both so desperate that you barely made it to his car before both started to attack each other with hot, needy kisses. you weren’t even in the car for 5 minutes before you slipped off your panties and rode him in the drivers seat. in retrospect, you wished you could’ve punished him for the teasing that night, but you have needs too. now, though, you feel like you have the perfect opportunity to get back at him.

it was a friday afternoon, soon to be evening, and this was one of your busiest days of the week. jonathan and lucien were so tied up in their own little business-related worlds that you knew you could pull some shit on neil and easily get away with it. so, you decided to wear a skirt to work. the same one you wore for the gathering. but this time, you skipped the panties all together. neil didn’t notice anything at first until he noticed you lean over to rummage through a box of old tapes, where he got a clear view of your pussy and ass.

you hear him gasp quietly, before quickly making his way over to you and pulling you up to face him,

“y/n what the fuck are you doing?” he growled, brows furrowed and a clear mixture of anger and arousal bubbling inside him

you just shoot him a confused look and go about your day, continuing to do your work. you made sure to do what he did to you, bend down in front of him, make sure others are around but can’t see. after each time returning to your feet, you’d glance back at him. watching as he’d shift his pants awkwardly, or use his hands or whatever movie was near by to try and conceal his growing erection. just before gumshoe was about to have its peak traction of the day, during the calm before the storm, you crawled over to neil who was working behind the counter. it isn’t until you’re almost directly beneath him that he realizes.

he sighs, frustrated, “what the fuck are you doing now?” he whisper yells, trying to not disturb the lone customer that’s inside the store. “since you were just sooo desperate at the party that you just couldn’t keep your hands off me, i’m doing the same.” you say softly, palming i’m through his pants from beneath the counter

he feels his face become flushed as he shoots nervous glances around the room, “y/n .. there’s people here .. we can’t-“ he starts before you grip him through his pants, stroking the now distinct out line of his dick.

“there were people around when your paws were in my panties, too. if you wanna play slutty, let’s play slutty.” you whisper, your tone sultry and sweet. you lean yourself forward and begin to place small kisses on his bulge. he gulps hard and continues to shoot glances around, his breathing becoming more laboured.

you start to unbutton and unzip his pants before he attempts to stop you, to which you quickly swat his hands away.

“be good and let me suck you off, you can’t let the customers know what a filthy boy you are.”

he starts to melt a bit, you can see it in his face. he’s still nervous, he thinks his heart may have made its way up to his throat, but he’s also painfully hard.

after unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, you tug his boxers down just enough to let his cock free. his head is a flushed rich pink colour, matching the colour of his lips. his cock flexes up slightly at the sudden cool air making contact with his sensitive member. after placing one of your hands firmly at his base, you begin to place wet kisses on his tip.

his knees buckle slightly and he places his palms flat on the counter for stability. you run your wet lips along his length, pumping the rest with your hand. he’s breathing very hard. any bystanders would probably assume he was about to drop from a heart attack. then, while looking up at him, you suck his tip in. swirling your tongue around it before focusing on placing small licks on his slit. he whines quietly, looking down at you. his eyes are filled with anger, embarrassment, and most dominantly, arousal.

he brings his head back up and begins to try and push you down and away, but you don’t move an inch.

“y/n, there’s a customer, stop!” he whines, you pull your mouth off him but continue to pump him, “well answer them, silly, we can’t risk losing business.” you tease.

he looks furious now. as you hear the customer getting closer and you hear them begin to speak, you slowly slide neil back into your mouth.

“would you guys happen to have blue velvet?” the faceless customer asks, you watch neil’s expression as he tries his hardest to hold himself together

“would we-uh, have ..” he begins, swallowing hard while bringing a shaky hand up to try and fix his hair, “do we have what?” he asks, the blush on his cheeks growing stronger

“blue velvet .. 1986 .. i thought your guys thing was having the hard to find movies?” they retort, you can’t see their expression, but you can tell in their voice they know somethings up. this only further enabled you though, as you sucked him harder, sloppier, twisting your hand around him in a way that you knew drove him over the edge

“no no, w-we do .. we just um ..” he starts before exhaling sharply through his nose, his shoulders dropping as he starts to feel himself becoming close in front of a customer, he glances down at you and watches as you rub your clit while continuing to suck him off. if he could, he’d drag you up to the counter and fuck you right there, but until this customer left- he had no choice but to muscle through.

after a few moments of silence the customer speaks again, “are you okay, dude?” a clear sense of confusion in their voice.

“oh yeah, yeah, i’m just, just not feeling too ..” he starts before he feels you grip his balls gently, having to cut himself off or else he would’ve moaned directly at the customer. you hear them scoff before they leave, mumbling something about how weird film dudes are.

now that you two were essentially alone, you could put a bit more of an effort sucking him off without fear of a customer hearing. you hum around him, and glance up at him with the most whorish puppy dog eyes. he brings his hands down and forcefully pushes his length all the way in, groaning at the sensation. his fingers lock into your hair as he begins to face fuck you, completely dismissing your need to breathe.

he doesn’t last long though, because after less than a minute of this rough throat fuck, he holds your head directly to his pelvis. he wraps his hands around the back of your head to prevent you from pulling off as he comes, hot and hard, down your throat. releasing quick breathes and those pretty little high pitched moans that he only lets out on occasion, he rides out his orgasm in your mouth.

once he feels himself becoming soft, he releases his grip as you gasp loudly, feeling your burning lungs finally be filled with the oxygen they were begging for. he looks down at you while tugging his underwear back up.

from beneath him, with watery eyes and red plump lips, you wipe your mouth and your eyes before returning to your feet, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“i’ll consider us even, for now”

—

uuuuuh so far all of my prompts have included public sex in Some way so .. apologies. unless you’re into that. then you’re welcome.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives

[fromchaostocosmos]

We Need To Talk About The Oscars

Or more like I a Jewish person need you non-Jewish people to listen and actually hear me and other Jewish people when we talk about Jewish representation and utter lack of it in media.

I know that you think there is Jewish representation is media and I know many of you think that is probably an over abundance of Jewish representation in fact.

But having characters occasionally say oy vey, or kosher or mazal tov even though they are not Jewish is not representation. Saying schmear or a yiddish word here and there again usually by non-Jewish characters is not representation.

Having characters who we only know they are Jewish because it comes up during xmas episodes and they mention Hanukah like once is not representation especially if they are not played by Jewish actors.

Having canon Jewish characters stripped of being for tv shows or movies is not representation. Having a canon non-Jewish character made Jewish, but by doing so it plays it really harmful stereotypes and tropes abouts Jews is not representation (i.e the penguin in the animated Harley Quinn Series being made Jewish even though he is not all while not having Harley be Jewish even though canonically she is).

Having Jewish actors play villainous roles all the time especially ones with certain overtones is not only not representation it is actively harmful.

Having non-Jewish actors play Jewish characters and people is not representation, no matter how far back they may or may not have some Jewish ancestry perhaps.

There are three movies nominated for multiple Oscars about three real Jewish people. Not one of those films bothered to get a Jewish actors to portray these very real Jews.

Maestro has Bradley Cooper portraying Leonard Bernstein, Golda has Helen Mirren portraying Golda Meir, and Oppenheimer has Cillian Murphy portraying J. Robert Oppenheimer.

All three actors are not Jewish and yet all three portrayed Jewish people in their films.

All of three films are being awarded for their antisemitism, because that is what this is, with a bevy of award nominations from the Academy. Even if one does not go home with Oscar to be an Oscar Nominee still comes with prestige and seal of approval.

Both Maestro and Oppenheimer are being awarded with the Best Actor Nomination for their choice of non-Jewish men to play Jewish men.

Golda and Maestro have been awarded with the Best Hairstyling and Makeup Nomination despite both films heavy use of prosthetic makeup of their non-Jewish actors in order to make them "look more Jewish".

This is disgusting. This is antisemitic point blank. Hollywood as an industry has always been antisemitic and continues to be so. And now it rewards itself for its antisemitism. Once again it is left to Jews to shout into the void about this shameful injustice and hope that others will hear us and help make our voices heard.

This should not be happening still. This should be a wake up call within Hollywood and should a moment to course correct and do better.

Clearly it is not. I do not hold my breathe. I can say what I feel needs to be said and hope and that others see it and understand the truth in what I am saying.

It is time to stop erasing from our own stories and narratives. It is time to start giving us true and meaningful representation.

#antisemitism #hollywood antisemitism #antisemitism in media #jewish representation #lack of jewish representation #jewish erasure

[mournings-stars]

Hello I hope your requests are on and if they are can I have angsty and alittle platonic headcanons for Lucifer

Where him, Lilith and Charlie run into he's ex wife who he left because he lost feelings for her and started liking Lilith after years his ex wife has movied on from him and her personality has also changed to the point its like a new person and that she has gone from a soft Naive woman to a more independent and emotionally stronger one

Thank you ignore this if you like

hello im back to writing!!! … with a bit of an angst warning

i like to think the marriage with lucifer was a lot like adam and liliths, you were basically created to be his wife. despite having free will, you were made for a purpose, so you understood lilith. you probably talked about it with him, saying you felt for her. “if i didn’t love you, i don’t know what i’d do,” you say and he smiles before telling you he loves you too

“if you ever feel how she does, and didn’t want to be with me anymore, you could tell me,” he’d say one day, and you dont think much of it

but back then you were too passive. like him, you were full of beliefs, but you were much more credulous and naive, and that led him to find someone else to share his dreams with. he used them to help comfort her and cheer her up, even telling you about it

then one day he stops

you piece it together, though — even if you’re naïve, you’re not an idiot, and you just let him go on until he plans to give eve the fruit

“don’t do this,” you tell him and he feigns like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about — or he really doesn’t because you feel like you have to say, “you must think i’m stupid,” when you see the shocked look on his face. “i know what you’ve been doing. i know what you’re about to do. don’t.”

but even if he didn’t think you were stupid, he certainly knew you didn’t think about the world the same way the other angels did; he convinced you, no matter what you knew was right, that this was the right thing to do. everything would be okay! humans would have free will, and everything would be fine

of course, that was the last time you spoke. you weren’t exactly sure if you’d ended things on good or bad terms, but in his mind you absolutely hated him, never wanted to see his face again, and were glad he fell

so, of course, once he ran into you — in hell of all places — at a high society event with his wife and daughter, he was floored. his only reaction, logically of course, was to turn the opposite way and drag his wife over to one of the princes to introduce her to

“where’s charlie?” lilith would ask him after a moment and he already knew

you were an angel, one of the only angels to swallow their pride and come to this event when invited, so it only made sense that his daughter wandered over to you and your small group of other angels — probably only there on a formality, he thought — and of-fucking-course she was drawn to you

lilith was already going over to you before he could stop her, so he went after her

you already recognized charlie; she looked so much like him, but you didn’t turn away. instead, you bent to her level and talked with her, listening as the tiny child talked about her parents and toys, and anything she could think of while you nodded along and conversed with her about her fantastical stories as best you could

“charlie, honey, let’s not bother…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say your name, prompting you to look up and introduce yourself

you didn’t know if he never told lilith about you, or if she was just being kind, but it seemed like she didn’t know your name or who you were. she introduced herself with a smile and you easily understood why lucifer fell for her

“it’s been a while,” you say to him and he can’t help but smile, relieved that your voice didn’t hold any contempt for him

but he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or ashamed when you introduced yourself to his wife as an old friend

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel heaven #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader

[dreamermonica]

BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

#my bllk phase is THRIVING #and it's all because of this fruity german twink named michael jackson #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #har❗fiction

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

brie, think about it for a sec: soft morning sex with jeonghan, he calling his s/o "angel, honey, baby" and a very heavy praising. like, please 😩 i can't stop thinking about it 😮‍💨

Hi anon, think about this for a sec: IM A JIHOON BIAS STOP POISONING MY BRAIN WITH THESE JEONGHAN THINGS. What are you expecting huh? Warnings? Like, mostly gender-neutral y/n minus anatomy, unprotected sex, Jeonghan is a tease, light begging, soft!dom Jeonghan if you squint, praise!kink, morning sex, pet names, as vanilla as it gets with me Is that what you want? (In this possible scenario, minors are not welcome to interact with this post)

…

.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you jjongjjongie's fans win... Here you go:

also i'm kidding. Keep poisoning my brain with these Jeonghan things as long as we all keep it a secret between us on this blog 🤭

You turned onto your side to look over at Jeonghan, who was propped up in bed, writing in a notebook of his. You two had been dating for a while and you still didn't really know what he wrote in it. Maybe it was a dream journal or just something to busy himself with as he waited for you to wake up in the morning.

You weren't really sure, and you never asked. Instead, you took this time in the morning to look at him.

When Jeonghan woke up in the morning and was sitting in your bed like this he always looked so... Perfect, angelic even. You loved to watch as his eyes searched the pages of the notebook he was writing in. You loved the way he would hesitate before writing something. Raising his pencil to briefly tap his lips before seeming to remember what he was writing.

He was usually so focused that he didn't even notice you staring at him.

When he woke up so early too, he tended to open the curtains that covered your window, letting in the morning light, to cast its golden rays over his soft skin.

It was moments like these in which you wondered how you could have possibly gotten so lucky as to date someone as beautiful as Jeonghan.

"It's not really fair, now is it?" Jeonghan voiced, dragging you out of your thoughts. As you refocused your attention on him and his actions you noticed him tucking away his notebook, securing the page he was on with a small movie ticket.

You recognized it. The flimsy stub from the first date you two went on together. A smile flickered across your face.

"What isn't fair?" You asked him softly. He hummed and patted his lap lightly. You obediently shifted your body, climbing out from under the sheets and straddling his lap. He smiled at you, and then his lips turned down into a small pout.

"You can stare at me all you want but when I get to look at you, you get too shy and turn away," he said softly. Your cheeks reddened a little.

"It's different when you're looking at me," you said softly. Jeonghan appeared skeptical, his hands coming to your hips so that he could rub small circles into your sides. You decided you needed to distract him from the topic at hand and leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

He hummed at the action, raising one of his hands to the back of your neck to keep you pressed there.

"Are you trying to distract me?" He asked you after breaking the kiss. You gave him a wide-eyed look in order to feign innocence. When he held his skepticality you let the look drop.

"Is it working?" You asked him instead. His eyes flickered down to your lips and he hummed again.

"I might be persuaded," he agreed softly. You draped your arms over his shoulders and tilted your head forward again, your lips catching his. At first he let you lead the kiss. His hand left the back of your neck in favor of slipping under your shirt.

His fingers trailed lightly up your sides, sending shivers through your body until he found your boobs. He cupped your boobs, giving them a small squeeze, and when that elicited a moan from you into his mouth, he began to massage your breasts.

He continued to let you lead the kiss, every now and then letting his thumbs flicker across your now hard tits, sending electricity through your body with each flick.

You were sure he meant for it to be innocent. Just something to do with his hands as your hands found their way into his dark strands of hair, your fingers tangling themselves in it, your hips beginning to lightly roll down on him as your core started to burn.

As it went on like that however Jeonghan began to lead the kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, forcing them open, practically demanding submission from the act alone.

As you relinquished control Jeonghan lowered his hands back down your body, one of his hands dipping into your panties, reminding you of the fact that you had stopped bothering to wear pants to sleep.

For easy access? You couldn't quite remember. You did faintly remember coming on Jeonghan's cock last night, however... What a way to end the day.

Jeonghan's fingers found your clit and he began to rub it in small circles. You whined against his lips, a pleased sigh escaping them against his mouth.

He chuckled at your reaction, briefly breaking the kiss to place his forehead to yours.

"You're going to be the death of me," he mumbled, tilting up a bit so that his nose brushed yours in that of a butterfly kiss. His fingers dipped lower and you raised your hips a little for him.

"How so?" You asked him, your breath catching when Jeonghan's fingers began to rub between your slick folds. You shivered and ducked your head into his neck.

"Just... This," he asserted softly. "So pliant and willing to let me fuck you so early in the morning."

You groaned slightly at the mention of the time of day.

"Oh god don't even m-" He slipped a finger into you, making you arch your back slightly in surprise. "-ention the time. Am I going to be late?"

Jeonghan slowly worked his finger in and out of you.

"We have time," he said back. You raised your head, small pants leaving your lips.

"For what?" You asked him lightly, a smile flickering across your face.

"For this," he asserted, crooking his finger inside of you and eliciting another soft moan. "And for breakfast too, probably."

The thought of breakfast had your mind drifting away for just a second, wondering what you should make, only to be dragged back into reality by the addition of a third finger.

You squirmed a bit, but it only dragged his fingers deeper inside of you. You ended up just rolling your hips down on him, knowing that it was teasing his trapped, and hardening cock.

"I should do this more," Jeonghan mumbled, his voice becoming a little strained. "Fucking you in the morning? You're so warm... And soft... And plenty stretched out for me."

As he spoke he pulled his fingers from you. He made you watch as he sucked your wetness from his fingers, and only let you taste it through that of a kiss that he let you lead.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, throwing your whole body forward as you kissed him, rolling your hips down more insistently as the kiss dragged on until finally, Jeonghan was pushing you back by your shoulder.

Once you had relinquished your grip on him he had flipped you over, your back hitting the soft mattress, and your head falling in between two pillows. He wiggled you out of your panties, watching as a string of wetness clung to them before tossing them aside.

He dipped his head down between your thighs and pressed a kiss to the inside of one, the other, your clit, and then teasingly made a mess between your folds.

You were already ready for his cock, tired of the teasing, and let out a whine to vocalize your frustration. He laughed against your pussy... fuck.

"My baby is so impatient in the morning," he murmured affectionately. He left you for a moment, in order to ditch his underpants, before joining you on the bed again. He situated himself between your legs, letting his fat tip slide between your folds.

"Jeonghan," you bit out impatiently. Another soft laugh from him.

"What? You want me to just fuck you raw?" He asked you as if it hadn't been months since he fucked you with a condom on. "Do you have any condoms in that bedside table?"

His tip slipped into you and for a second you forgot how to be normal.

"R-Raw," you managed to get out. "Fuck me raw Jeonghan. Want to feel you... All of you."

You didn't have to look up to feel his satisfaction. He slowly began to slide his cock into you, bending over you so that his whole body was covering yours. His lips found the corner of yours so that he could leave soft pants of breath there.

"You're so perfect," he mumbled softly as his cock slid to a stop fully inside of you. You raised your hands to his hair again, only really feeling steady with them there. You moaned at him as a way to acknowledge his words, and luckily it satisfied him.

He began to fuck you slowly, lazily, the warmth of his breath on your cheek matching the warmth of the morning sun as it bathed you two in light.

You were admittedly a little desperate, tugging at the strands of his hair as he took his time with you. Your toes curled, both at the pleasure of feeling his cock press the perfect spot inside of you and at the frustration that it was so brief.

As Jeonghan set his lazy pace, he lowered one of his hands to your clit, only enhancing your pleasure. It was still gentle, and slow. Clearly, Jeonghan was in no rush this morning. But you weren't upset. With his thrusts came his praises.

One of his hands carded fingers through your hair with his thrusts, little murmurs of so perfect for me, and so beautiful, and the always dearly coveted i love you so much, bringing you closer and closer to an orgasm as it went on.

Suddenly, Jeonghan shifted, placing the palm of his hand over your mouth muffling your moans in a way that had you whining all over again. You put your hand over his wrist, silently begging to be let to moan freely. A smile flickered across his red face.

“Sweetheart, you’re being so loud,” he whispered. “Do you want your roommate to wake up to the sound of you getting fucked by your boyfriend?”

The vulgarity of his words had you arching your back, your eyes fluttering shut as you shook your head, no.

“Then you gotta promise to be quiet,” he whispered. “Or I’ll have to keep your pretty little mouth covered.”

A frown flickered across his face.

“Even though, I love those little sounds you make. You sound perfect… My own little angel.”

You looked back up at him, nodding. He seemed amused.

“You promise to keep quiet?”

Another nod and his palm shifted from your mouth to the side of your face. At first, you let your moans leave your mouth just the way that you had let them before, but after a few moments, you remembered your promise and bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet.

Maybe that would have worked earlier, but it wasn't doing anything at this point. His cock kept hitting that perfect spot inside of you, and his fingers felt perfect on your clit.

"Play with my tits," you begged. "Kiss me," you added shamelessly. "Wanna come Han, wanna come on your cock."

Jeonghan's hand slid under your shirt, and obediently began to play with your boobs again, small squeezes, massaging them really as his thumbs flickered across your tits. When his mouth found your lips it was over for you.

You came apart under Jeonghan, desperately deepening the kiss, pulling him down on you. As you shook under Jeonghan, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts he fucked you at that same pace, but you felt his cock twitching inside of you as you came down from your orgasm.

The pain of being sensitive was practically null at the thought of Jeonghan coming inside of you. You broke the kiss a little, your voice broken.

"Want you to come," you begged against his lips. His breath was coming in short pants. You could tell he was close, his pace becoming just a little bit less even.

"Yeah?" He asked, ever the tease. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you begged lightly. "Please inside Jeonghan, wanna be full of your cum all day, please."

"Will it make you happy sweetheart?" Jeonghan asked lightly. "For me to come in your cunt? Fill you with my seed?"

You nodded eagerly, but he was still holding back.

"You have been so good for me," he mumbled softly, and his voice was hitching. You became a bit more insistent as you rolled your hips against him. "You sure you want to be so full of me? So perfect... So full."

You nodded excitedly.

"Please Jeonghan, please."

Your begs were a bit useless, Jeonghan's cock twitched and then he had pulled himself out of you, shooting sticky shots of cum all over the inside of your thighs, and at the base of your stomach.

Once he had finished painting your thighs, he leaned down on you again, pressing faint kisses to your lips as you both came down from your orgasms.

"You're the worst," you complained softly, once a few seconds had passed. He let out a soft laugh.

"Now that's not what you were saying-"

You pushed him off of you and he landed in the blankets with a small thud and a small laugh.

"You knew how badly I wanted that creampie," you whined, but Jeonghan just patted your head lightly.

"Oh did you? I couldn't really tell."

You let out another vocal protest, knowing that he was just teasing you but still not super happy with it. You squeezed your now sticky thighs together and sat up, pouting down at him.

He laughed again, the menace, and sat up as well. He scooped your cheek in his hand and gave you a brief, but deep kiss.

"I promise if you are that desperate to be fucked full of my cum-" Suddenly you were feeling very hot. "- Then I will fill you up nice and full tonight. Is that good enough for you, love?"

You held a stubborn silence for a few seconds before relinquishing to him a soft: "Fine."

Again he laughed at your attitude, and you got another soft kiss.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips. The corners of your lips twitched up.

"I love you," you echoed. He seemed happy with that.

"Eggs for breakfast?" He asked you lightly. You nodded excitedly.

"Just let me shower first."

#b: 익명 #Jeonghan drabble #jeonghan #jeonghan smut #soft jeonghan #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan seventeen #kpop smut #… #LOOK AT WHAT Y’ALL HAVE ME DOING #started writing this on break at work…. #i’m being corrupted by y’all

[prishdish]

˖˚˳⊹"i really do love you.. im sorry"˖˚˳⊹

-warnings: Angst, depress!on, su!c!dal thoughts, detachment, scars, body dysmorphia, disassociation, not proofread, chubby reader. -chars mentioned: Scaramouche -wc: 0.6k -a/n: i dont even know what to say.. Um this is .. something.. enjoy?

masterlist

as someone who felt every emotion more intense than others, it also meant feeling more sad. it should've been fine but you simply couldn't feel happy.. you have friends and family but still felt so lonely..

“helloooo” scaramouche waved his hand infront of your face to get your attention.

Suddenly looking up, you see him frowning at you. “what’re you thinking so hard about.. do you not wanna watch the movie?”

“sorry.. i just spaced out” you said embarrassed.. “just continue the movie, ill pay attention this time”.. Scara simply muttered a small ‘fine’ and resumed it.

Scaramouche is your best friend, the one you share everything with. But.. he could never understand the depth of your emotions.. The void you feel inside.. The aching loneliness that consumes you at every moment.

“Yes lets go to the beach!! itll be perf....”

“ooh i just bought a new bikini…..”

“wont it be too sunny? ill get tanne….”

you drowned out their conversation and thought of excuses to skip… you had no other choice.. a bikini wouldn't cover your scars, stretch marks or tummy fat.. it would be on display for everyone to see your insecurities and then they'd hate you.

“guys im sorry but i have to study this weekend.. exams are close”

“again? but didnt you say the same last week…”

“oh come on! itll be so fun…”

“ugh she does the same everytime…”

Ofcourse they wouldn't understand.. They had the perfect body..

The words were blurred as you tried to read them.. Nothing made sense to you anymore.. Your exams were near and you have to study but the words together don't make sense anymore..

Sighing, you went to splash some water on your face to wake yourself up. Looking up into the mirror, you saw failure.. Someone who cant study.. Someone who wouldnt be able to make a living..

You sat back down at your desk.. You can study and change your future right? its just a book..

But.. you cant make yourself read the words anymore.. you felt so tired..

Why cant you also be like others?.. Everyone else is so successful and perfect.. They have good grades, perfect body and happy lives..

You sat on the edge of the roof.. This used to be your hang out spot with Scara but eventually you both stopped meeting there.

“where the fuc- YOURE HERE?” Scara dramatically sighed, huffing. “Ive been searching all over for you. Come on, ive made dinner.. you have to eat something”

You chucked softly at his caring nature and nodded silently.. “Scara?” he was about to leave but turned back to look at you “yeah?”

“I love you”

He chuckled in confusion “yeah yeah i get it, i love you too. no need to get all sentimental with me, its just dinner.”

You turned back to the sky once he left. He probably went to your kitchen to fill a plate for you..

You smiled at the thought. He was the best person you could've asked for..

And it hurts. He cared for you so much but you couldn't appreciate it..

Leaving never had to be this painful.. But a tear fell down and you closed your eyes, recounting your memories..

There were so many happy moments you never got to enjoy.. Sad moments you stayed numb.. And the huge gap in your memory.. and nobody knew how you felt because you never let them.

‘Im so tired… Im so tired..” You looked at your feet, dangling off the roof.. ‘i hate this .. i dont wanna do this.. but theres nothing else to be done’

You took a deep breath in.. “i really do love you.. im sorry”...

…..

tags: @rubywonu @stygianoir @unsavoy-melon @kashiiwi @babbledabble25

#scara x reader #depressing shit #su!cidal #genshin angst #angst no comfort #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara angst #scaramouche angst #genshin impact angst #angst #heartbreak #heartache #angina #tw disordered eating #dissociation #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #Genshin Impact #genshin impact #prishpublish♡