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whore-era · 1 year

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infatuation - part 1

☁︎ delinquent!ellie williams x preppyfem!reader, enemies to lovers trope ☁︎ smut, angst, tiny bit of fluff ☁︎ summary: don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your girlfriend. ☁︎ warnings: 18+ only. kissing, fingering & oral (r!recieving), masturbation, mentions of weed and smoking weed, mentions relationships w/ men, feelings, kinda mean ellie but then shes nice again, arguing and yelling kinda (let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes) ☁︎ a/n: i wrote this in like one day. hope u all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it! ya nasties ;) ☁︎ word count: 4,347 ☁︎ 1/2 - part 2

you swore to yourself you’d never let yourself get involved with the university’s infamous delinquent— ellie williams. but you should’ve known that’d be hard to avoid, knowing she was just in reach as your roommate’s best friend.

ellie was always, and i mean always, there in your dorm. either chilling with dina, talking with dina, or, much to your disliking, smoking with dina.

ever since you ran into her on the first day of dorm move-in, she was constantly there, bickering with you, poking at you, and judging you for every little thing you did.

ellie had this image of you; an image of this perfect, high maintenance, always put-together, prissy, goody-two-shoes. it was far from the truth, well, kind of.

you did pride yourself on being one of the smartest girls on campus, and being very active in numerous extracurriculars at school. you were in the student body, the recycling club, the campus book club, the health club, the cooking club— you were just in a lot of clubs.

but it would be an understatement to say that ellie williams is everything opposite of you. she was on the other side of the spectrum you were on.

ellie williams was aggressive, a smartass, foulmouthed, risky, and usually up to trouble. always going to the dean’s office for a fight she probably started. the only reason why she hadn’t been kicked out from campus was because her stepdad is the dean's brother. don’t get yourself wrong, she was brilliant being an engineering major. but she was always doing something she wasn’t supposed to as if it fueled her drive.

you unlocked the door to your dorm, greeted with a fog of smoke. hacking out a cough, you switch on the lights, “dina!! what’d i tell you?” you lecture, stomping over towards the window to open it, “if you’re gonna smoke in here, at least open the window!”

“sorry, roomie,” dina coughed out, “we were just hotboxing.”

you turned towards the pair, criss-crossed on dina’s bed, and furrow your brows, “what? hotboxing?”

“yea, you know, smoking weed ’til the room fills up with smoke, so the high is more enhanced.” dina explained, you tilted your head to the side, still not fully comprehending whatever hotboxing was.

the brunette girl leaned against the wall, giving you a smirk. “c’mon, dee. don’t waste your breath explaining,” ellie retorted, “i’m sure lil miss perfect here never smoked or drank before.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms, “for your information, i have drank before.”

“oh yea? when was the last time, princess?” god, you hated that nickname. you hated the way it made you red in the cheeks.

“….at church.” you muttered quietly, sending ellie and dina into a fit of laughter.

“did you hear that, dee? at church! she said the last time she drank alcohol was at church!” ellie let out a boisterous laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“good one, princess.”

you huffed, rolled your eyes, and rummaged around your side of the room to search for what you were looking for in the first place.

was it so wrong for you to not drink or smoke weed? you didn’t think negatively about anyone who used it, but you just didn’t feel comfortable using something that had such an effect on you. you wanted autonomy over your body at all times.

bingo. you found the cropped white baby tee you wanted to change into, finding it more comfortable than the scratchy sweater you had on currently. turning away from the chatter of dina and ellie, you lifted the sweater above your head, tossed it in your laundry bag, and slipped into the more fitted and more comfortable white tee.

standing in front of your mirror, you checked your outfit. you thought a simple t-shirt and black yoga pants were cute enough to hang out with jacob in. you fixed your hair, and looked up at the corner of your mirror, your eyes meeting green ones.

ellie bit her lip, watching the beautiful yet stubborn girl in front of her. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. you just looked so goddamn beautiful. she couldn’t help but take a peek at the way your bare back curved or how soft your skin looked as your sweater slid off your body. ellie definitely didn’t complain about the yoga pants either and how they hugged your ass and thighs in all the right places.

knowing she was staring at you, you hiked your yoga pants higher and bent over a little, reapplying your favorite shimmering lipgloss in the mirror. you weren’t sure what came over you, but the feeling of knowing ellie was watching you, gave you butterflies in your belly.

you see her smirk and break eye contact with you. picking up your backpack and your ‘Organic Chemistry 101’ textbook, you bid dina a goodbye.

“i’ll be back later tonight dina, don’t wait up for me.” you said, slipping your shoes on.

ellie cleared her throat, “where you headed off to?”

“pi kappa alpha frat.” you met ellie’s eyes. they looked disappointed, but then quickly rolled to the side, masking whatever sadness you thought you saw.

“hm, i see,” ellie commented, “gonna go blow some frat dude’s cock, huh?”

you groaned, “ugh, no, idiot. i’m just gonna go study.”

“mhm, whatever you say, princess.” you open the door and leave, hearing the sound of dina yelling ‘be safe’ right before you left.

walking down the corridor, you thought to yourself ‘jacob isn’t that bad’. i mean, you both aren’t in a relationship by any means. you would describe it as ‘situationship’. jacob was nice, funny sometimes, cute, had a nice body, and was cool. him as a boyfriend though? you weren’t sure about that. he was good company, provided mediocre sex, and was nice to talk to, well, usually he’d talk about hockey and you’d listen. but that’s beside the point. you’re content with this situation, right?

walking back to your dorm from what was probably the worst sex of your life was, quite frankly, embarrassing. you spend time changing into a cute outfit, fixing your makeup, and spritzing on a little bit of your favorite expensive perfume to show up to this dude’s room with him reeking of sweat and ham. you were disappointed, to say the least.

yet, you stayed anyways, unsure of what even compelled you to do that. you stayed for the company, and that company starts rubbing on your ass and tits not even 5 minutes into the netflix show. eventually, you give in, feeling in the mood from a little making out, and you were met with 3 thrusts and cum on your stomach.

needless to say, you left in a hurry. currently cuddled under your pink duvet with your earphones on, you end up scrolling about on instagram, tapping to like and swiping up to comment on your friends posts.

while aimlessly scrolling, a picture from @e.williams pops up on your timeline. you study her picture in fascination.

it was a mirror picture of her in the gym, she had her hair up in her usual half-up half-down style with a tight tank top accentuating her physique as she was flexing her arms. gosh, how could someone so annoying be so gorgeous? your eyes trail to her arms and hands. and so fine? you double-tap on the picture, looking at it for a second more before scrolling past to the next post.

your phone vibrates, and you check the notification from your instagram dm’s.

@e.williams: you checking me out or something ??

you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. luckily, ellie wasn’t here to see that, or else you would’ve never heard the end of it. you type back.

in ur dreams idiot

you lay in bed closing your eyes, and somehow, your mind drifts off to that annoying green-eyed girl.

your mind goes to the way she looks at you when she thinks you don’t notice, or how even though she comments on everything you do, she’s so attentive about it. your mind plays in your head the way she calls you those stupid nicknames, and as much as you claim to hate them, you can’t deny the way it makes your heart flutter.

then, your mind floats to the corner of your brain that you keep locked away. you think about the way ellie bites her lip when she gets anxious, how better her lips would feel pressed onto yours. you think about the way she flexes her arms and hands, wondering how they would feel stroking your most intimate parts.

you find your hand inside your panties. luckily, dina was in the communal showers, doing her 25-step skincare routine. knowing you had the time, your hand goes down to your wet heat, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

you close your eyes, picturing her in your head, imagining her fingers working on you instead. you think about how perfect she’d look above you, looking down at you with adoring eyes. you knew she’d take good care of you. you suppress the need to moan by biting down on the duvet.

even when she wasn’t here, ellie had a way of drawing out unrecognizable responses from you. your finger still rubbing circles on your clit, an orgasm began to bubble in your stomach. you picked up the pace, legs beginning to shake, “fuck, ellie..” you manage to moan out as you finish on your fingers.

gosh, what was this girl doing to me?

it was saturday night and you had managed to get another date with jacob. you rejected him at first, but he was very persistent and promised ‘mind-blowing sex’ and takeout from one of the best restaurants in town. you obliged, clearly in it only for the takeout.

you thought it’d be a good idea to hang out with him. his hockey stories distracted you from the real person you had your mind stuck on, ellie.

you thought about her all the time, it gave you a migraine. you couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore without feeling nervous. luckily, you managed to avoid her all week, hanging out at one of your good friend’s dorm room ’til you knew the coast was clear.

you didn’t let yourself think about what it would be like being in a relationship with ellie williams. she didn’t like you at all, not in that way anyway. she’d probably make some comment like ‘hell would freeze over before i even look at you like that’. the two of you together would be a recipe for disaster. you literally despised each other.

smoothing down your dress, you smiled at the mirror in satisfaction. you went over to your desk and sat down, getting ready to apply some light makeup.

hearing the door open and close, you assumed it was dina.

“damn, who died?”

your head turns and meets those stupid green eyes and that stupid smirk adorned with those stupid freckles that make your stupid heart race a little faster. god, you were so stupid.

“ha ha, very funny,” you snapped, “what are you doing here, anyways?”

“dina doesn’t get off work for a couple of hours and i didn’t have jackshit to do, so i thought i would wait for her here,” ellie plops down on dina’s bed.

“hell, no. get out,” you demanded, pointing to the door. you really just wanted her to leave so you could let go of the breath you’ve been holding. it made you anxious being alone with her and the fact that she wore that stupid blue button-up that made her look so good didn’t make anything better either.

“chill out, princess,” ellie said leaning back against dina’s head board, “you won’t even notice i’m here.”

you huffed in frustration, trying to hide the crimson creeping up on your cheeks. you proceeded to get your mind off the brunette by continuing your makeup, intently dabbing your concealer in, and carefully curling your lashes. you pat your face gently with some powder and brush out your brows, once in a while looking to the side of your mirror, catching ellie looking at you before she quickly looks away, pretending to be on her phone.

“gettin’ all dolled up for your lil’ boyfriend?” she asks dryly, still looking down at her phone.

“wouldn’t you like to know?”

“please, do enlighten me, princess.” you swallow hard, “i’ll have you know that i’m going out with jacob anderson tonight.”

“no fucking way, is that the shithead you’re seeing from pi kappa alpha?” she says, surprised with wide eyes.

“mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, still rummaging in your makeup.

“why am i even surprised, you did always gravitate towards the assholes.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”, you paused and raised a brow.

“you go for assholes,” she stated, “do i need to spell it out for you?”

“jacob is not an asshole, he’s really nice.” you muttered, patting on some blush. “he’s hell of a lot nicer than you.”

okay, you knew that was a lie. but you had to think of a way to get her off your back.

“m’yeah, i highly doubt that. he’s a fucking tool,” she says nonchalantly, “where’s he even taking you anyways?”

“he asked me to meet up with him at the frat house, we’re gonna watch netflix and eat takeout and stuff,” you admit.

“you fuckin’ with me?” ellie looks surprised and almost pissed.

“no, why would i?”

“are you serious? it’s pouring rain outside and he asked you to come over,” she points out, “the asshole didn’t even have the decency to come over here and walk with you himself.”

your eyes look out the window, barely registering the pitter-patter of the rain hitting your window. you didn’t even know it was raining and you wore a dress. your mind was so consumed with classes, ellie, clubs, ellie, student body, ellie, and ellie. the small details just flew right over your head.

you stay silent, and she just gives you a look. a look you couldn’t decipher.

“you’re a real piece of work, y’know that?” ellie retorts, crossing her arms. jesus, why did she have to look so good like that?

“what’d i do this time? please, share with the class.” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“you just go for guys who treat you like garbage or who’re way out of your league.” she argues, “they’re either too stupid or don’t give a fuck about you.” ouch. that kind of stung.

you close your eyes, waiting before answering back at her, “can you stop it?! just for once. stop judging every single thing i do.” you yell, exasperated.

ellie’s eyes widen and she lets out a laugh, which sets you off even more.

“you think this is funny? you always make some snide comment about me. i’m too high maintenance, i’m a teacher’s pet, i’m spoiled, i go after horrible guys—“

“because you do!” she yells back.

“and why do you care, ellie?!” you yell, becoming out of breath, partly due to the hard pounding of your heartbeat in your chest, “why do you care so much?

she goes silent.

“god, you infuriate me, ellie williams.” you breathe out. you felt almost as if fire was igniting inside of you and your slow breaths were releasing the smoke. you close your eyes, attempting to calm down before opening them again and putting on the last finishing touches on your makeup. as you stand up grabbing your purse, and you hear ellie let out a heavy sigh.

“you’re seriously still gonna go out with that fucking frat bro prick jacob anderson? after everything i said?” she snarks, “i thought girls like you were supposed to be smart.”

“yea, as a matter of fact. i am still going,” you give her a mocking smile.

“why? so, he can fuck you missionary in the dark while he finishes in 3 seconds?” she lets out a harsh laugh, “how fucking romantic.”

“again, why do you even care? you don’t even like me,” you counter, her head spins in your direction.

“who told you that?” ellie appeared angry, her eyes sharp and a serious tone in her voice.

“no one that matters.”

there’s a pregnant pause in the air as if she’s hesitating to say something.

“well, whoever the fuck they are, they’re wrong.” she confessed, her voice wavering.

“what do you mean?”

she sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair before standing up in front of you.

“i’m infatuated with you.”

“huh?” you manage to croak out in shock. did you hear her correctly?

“yea. you heard me. i’m infatuated with you. you fucking consume every corner of my mind. every capacity of my being.” she comes closer to you, backing you up against the door, “you drive me absolutely insane.”

“then why do you treat me like this?” you ask, looking up at her with big, curious eyes. ellie’s eyes soften at you.

“because— i hate seeing you go on dates with those dicks who don’t deserve you. i hate seeing the way you dress in those short-ass fucking dresses and skirts for them. i hate knowing that they don’t even make you feel good. i hate that you waste your time on those assholes instead of—,” she breathes, “—instead of me.”

you look at her, searching for any sign of doubt in her face. nothing. no. she couldn’t do this. she couldn’t spring this on you. she couldn’t act one way to you for months and then tell you something different the next.

“so what? you think you deserve me? you deserve my attention?” you snap ungraciously.

“as a matter of fact, yes. yes i do.” she whispers, getting closer to you. “you and i both know it,” her breath fans your face, “i’d make you feel better than any of those assholes could.”

you shift uncomfortably in your spot, pulling your eyes away from hers.

“i can give you everything you deserve. i can give you everything you want.” she swears. “i can make your pussy feel so, so good, baby,” you can feel your wetness pool in your panties.

“can make you whimper and moan,” ellie suddenly grabs you by the bare flesh underneath your ass, her warm hands hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around her waist.

“jus’ give me a chance to show you.” she whispers lowly. you smash your lips onto hers, your hands holding onto the nape of her neck. you knew this was probably a bad idea, but god, the way her tongue felt in your mouth felt ungodly. her tongue rubbed against yours, exploring your mouth like it was something she was destined to do.

walking towards your bed, your frame still wrapped up around her, she bent down to lay you on your bed. ellie pulled away from your lips and looked down at you, scattering gentle kisses below your jawline towards your neck, your legs still firmly wrapped around her figure.

with your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of her lips all over your neck, you attempted to put an end to this. “el, we can’t,” you nearly moan out.

“why? ‘cause of jacob?” ellie lets out an amused laugh, before pressing her lips against the weak spot of your neck, sucking on it.

another moan vibrates through you, “god, ellie,” you let out meekly.

“tell me to stop,” she commands, her lips moving to suck on the spot above your collarbone, the tip of her tongue gliding against your skin. don’t stop.

“tell me that i’m wrong,” ellie murmured, “that i don’t deserve you.” you deserve me.

her fingers lift up the hem of your dress, exposing your stomach. her lips pepper sloppy kisses against the supple skin of your stomach, “tell me you don’t want me,” i want you, “that you don’t feel the same for me.” i do feel the same for you.

“tell me, baby,” ellie kisses in the space between your breasts, “tell me you’re not mine.”

your heart was beating in and out of your chest. this was it. this was your chance. getting an opportunity to be with ellie williams was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and you weren’t passing up your dream girl.

you grab her face, lifting her lips up to yours. “i’m yours, ellie,” you cooed, “i’m all yours.”

leaning her forehead against yours, her lips curled into a smile, before pressing onto yours one more time. her warm hands rubbed against the skin on your waist, exploring every inch of warm, flesh. you whined against her mouth, wanting more. you needed more. you needed her.

ellie’s hands trailed upwards, lifting the dress off you and discarding it somewhere in your room. she took this opportunity to pull away from you for a second, her eyes grazing your body. ellie found it hard to believe she was in this situation, with you underneath her, nearly naked and looking angelic. she took a mental picture of this moment, never wanting to forget how you looked at her— with love.

her fingers went behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall and tossing it to the side.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “you’re beyond anything i could’ve dreamt of.”

your stomach erupted in butterflies, flushed at this newfound sweet side to ellie. her mouth placed sloppy kisses on your chest, sucking on the soft skin and leaving maroon-colored marks as a reminder of where she had been and where she belongs.

she took your breast in her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around your hardened nipple. “oh my god, ellie,” you hissed. she smirked up at you, letting one of her hands massage and pinch on the other nipple.

“please, ellie,” you begged, “touch me, please.”

she let out a sickening chuckle, the heat of her mouth fanning your skin, sending shivers up your spine.

“where, sweet girl?” she said bringing her lips down to suck on your nipple again, “use your words.”

you bucked your hips up, “please, el, touch my pussy. pretty please.” you breathe out.

“ah, ah, ah, can’t hear you, baby.” she mocked, pulling her lips away from your now sensitive nipples.

“ellie, please,” you whined out, “i want you to touch my pussy. please.”

she smirks, satisfied with where she has you. “that’s my good girl. how obedient, hm?”

she stands up, still in between your legs, and pulls your body to the edge of the mattress. her hands go to the waistband of your panties, using her fingers to ever-so-slowly peel them off of you. she was intentionally moving agonizingly slow. her hands caressed your inner thighs and calves, finally chucking your panties somewhere on the floor.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting so long to do this,” ellie said, crouching down on the floor in front of you. you could feel her hot breath against your pussy, and you couldn’t bear it any longer.

“please, i need you, el,” you beg, hoping for some relief. her hands lifted your thighs and placed them on her shoulders, her lips pressing soft kisses in between your thighs. she presses a kiss against your inner thigh, on your pussy lips, and then finally on your clit.

ellie works slow and patiently, using her fingers to steadily spread your pussy lips apart and gather your wetness with her tongue. she uses one finger and inserts it inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

you throw your head back, “oh my god, ellie, yes,” you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“look at you, getting what you want, you spoiled girl,” she mutters against your pussy, before putting her lips on your clit again, sucking on your sensitive core. her finger pumping in and out of you easily, the slick sound of your wetness reverberating throughout the room.

“you taste so fucking good, baby,” ellie hums against you, slurping up every drop of your juices. she adds a second finger, stretching you out a bit, but still sliding in and out of you with ease.

her tongue flicking against your clit combined with her fingers fucking you was enough to almost send you over the edge, you cover your mouth with your hand, suppressing a loud moan that was tempted to come out.

“no, let me hear you, sweet girl,” ellie orders, “let everyone in this whole goddamn hall hear how good i’m fingerfucking you right now.”

you let your hand drop to your side, relishing in the ecstasy, and letting out a moan you were holding back.

“that’s my girl.”

you hear your phone ring, knowing it’s jacob, probably wondering why you haven’t shown up by now. but here you were, with ellie, knuckles deep inside your pussy.

she grabs your phone from the nightstand with her free hand, while the other is picking up the pace with her fingers, eliciting another moan from your parted lips, “hey fucker, leave a message. she’s busy right now.”

you should’ve scolded her about how she answered your phone, but right now, any consequences you thought about vanished as she continued licking circles against your swollen clit while simultaneously curling her fingers up inside your leaking hole.

“el—“ you barely choked out, “m’gonna— gonna—“

she kept the same pace, not for a second slowing down, “you gonna cum, baby? huh? you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded weakly, clenching your pussy around her fingers and tightening your thighs around her head.

“go ‘head, angel,” her pace never misses a beat, “show me who you belong to.”

your back arches off the mattress and you cry out, riding out your orgasm and letting your juices flow out of you.

after cleaning your thighs with a wet wipe and towel, ellie comes up to hover above your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“is it too late to ask you to be my girlfriend?” she asks, letting out a sincere laugh.

“i thought we already established this, idiot.”

read part 2 here

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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a-spes · 5 months

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T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room.

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath.

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long.

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place.

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of.

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture.

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart.

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life.

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs.

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes.

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much.

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey."

One.

Two.

Three.

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet.

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open.

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears.

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness.

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again.

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want.

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs.

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom.

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek.

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable.

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded.

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful.

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words.

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin. “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman.

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to.

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory.

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears.

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it.

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say.

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure.

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything.

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that."

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't.

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away.

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach.

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #mob boss natasha romanoff #reader insert #mcu women #mcu fanfiction #angst #angst with comfort

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shiny-kaibernyte · 4 months

Note

Could you do a Drayton x GN!Reader, where reader is rather clingy,

(and possibly trying to avoid Carmine by sticking w/ Drayton, knowing that she hates him? This is opt but it'd be p cool if you added this)

Ooo this is so adorable! I loved writing this so much! And I did include the Carmine request for you, I love my girl Carmine. I got a bit carried away though so i do hope you like it 💜💜

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After a long and ruthless day of training, Drayton wants nothing more than to just lay down with his s/o and chill. And his s/o wants the exact same thing but there seems to be a road block between them.

SPOILER WARNING AHEAD (Indigo Disk Main Story and a little bit of The Teal Mask)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just this once | Drayton x Clingy Reader

“Is it just me, or is Kieran even more snappy today?” Lacey questioned as the door to the League club room opened. Drayton just sighed in response, holding the door open for the group, still feeling the strain from his training battle with Kieran.

Crispin was still fired up when he rushed into the room, hitting his hand against his pan. “What is his deal? Why can’t he get over himself!? I'm burning up just thinking about it. Who does he think he is? Revives aren't allowed, even in training battles!? Let alone two max revives.”

“Calm yourself, Crispin. Yelling about it won’t solve a thing,” Amarys calmly responded, pulling out her pocket watch and examining the time carefully.

“Sounds like you four had a fun time out there." Your voice chimed from the corner. A smile on your face when the group jumps from your response. Well, all except Drayton, who went from being stressed and tired to happy and tired. "Kieran giving you a hard time again?”

Drayton rubbed the back of his neck as he stretched his other arm up. “Hard time isn’t the word for it; I've never been so against Pokemon battling in my life. Apparently, a simple double battle isn’t good enough for our almighty champion. "Rolling his eyes as he says champion before making his way over to you.

“I'm still all fired up from the fight! And I didn’t even fight Keiran,” Crispin chimed, crossing his arms in frustration, his fiery rage still burning. The whole place would be on fire if his rage continued.

“Crispin, I think you should get some fresh air. Come on, let's go find some Pokémon to battle.” Lacey calmly placed her hand on his shoulder before ushering him out of the room. Waving to her fellow members before her quick exit.

Finally putting the pocket watch away, Amarys sees herself out as well, giving nothing more than a simple farewell. Leaving just you and Drayton in the League club room. Drayton finally sits down for the first time in hours, pulling you onto the sofa with him. “I am beat... and not just mentally either; think Kieran landed one to many Super Sonic's. Ears are still ringing!” A small laugh escaped your lips as he banged his hand against his ear, acting as if he's trying to get something out, getting a bit too aggressive in the process.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to hurt yourself." You smiled, taking his hand away from his face and into the grasp of your own before moving to sit on his lap, which he happily accepted, putting his free arm around you to hold you there. "Okay, so tell me everything that happened!”

Half way through his very long explanation about how Kieran decided to test the strength of him and Lacey to 'see if they were still worthy’ along with his max revive cheating when they began getting the upper hand on him, Carmine suddenly burst through the door, almost taking the poor thing off its hinges. “I WILL KILL HIM!”

“That’s one way to make an entrance... Are you okay over there?” Drayton questioned, his arms still around you, tightening when you jumped closer to him at her sudden entrance. You could see the steam coming off of Carmine as she paced aggressively around the room, mumbling something to herself.

“No, I am very much not an okay captain obvious! Kieran has crossed a line today, and I need to blow off some steam! Amarys won’t battle me, and I can't find Crispin or Lacey, so one of you two will have to do it, and I'm not taking no for an answer!” She demanded coming over to you both, not even questioning the fact that you're just sitting on his lap.

Drayton shook his head and sighed. “I'm all battled out for today, so you will be taking no for an answer!”

"Fine, then I’ll battle you!” Before you could even protest, Carmine grabbed your arm in a non-aggressive way and practically yanked you away from him, much to your dismay. Letting go once you were by the door. Immediately, you stepped away, wanting to head back for Drayton, who was now standing up, flabbergasted by the audacity. "Hey, no walking out on me; we're battling!”

“Carmine, maybe you should take another look around for Crispin or Lacey? I mean, they have to be somewhere, right?” You respond, hoping she will just decide to go find them and use wild Pokémon as her victims of battle rage. As much as you loved her, you really just wanted to spend time with Drayton; he was your boyfriend, and he needed you as much as you needed him. And now Carmine has burst into the room like a wild Rhyhorn and pulled you away from him.

“No way! You’re here; you aren't doing anything important, so let's battle! I need to battle you so I can go talk to Kiki with a calmer mind. "She pleaded, fists clenched, as she finally gave her reason for being mad. “He can’t just blame me for one of his Pokémon fainting just because I was watching! I didn’t distract him from that fight; I didn't even say anything!” She continued to rant after that, not even noticing you weren't near her anymore.

Slowly continuing to back away, you somehow manage to make it back to Drayton's side as you hook your arm through his. Finally, You managed to get a word in through Carmine's rambling. “You know... maybe just this once you could go battle some wild Pokémon? I heard there was a Scizor outbreak going on in the canyon."

“Huh? A what? No, I don't care about any stupid outbreaks. I need a real challenge! And you are going to give me that challenge. "Carmine once again protested, " If she's anything, it’s determined. “And why do you keep hiding behind toothpaste? I'm not that angry!”

"No, you are; I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” Drayton mocked crossing his arms as he stepped forward, leaning against the wall beside him as you continued to stay almost glued to his side.

“Zip it, Colgate! You’re not a part of this.” She snapped, staring daggers into his soul when he began laughing. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, you shush it!”

“Carmine, breathe; you are stressed. Take a moment to cool down and just think about my offer; who knows, maybe you could find a shiny Scizor there. That would definitely be one up, Kieran, huh?” Once again, you make an attempt to sway Carmine’s favour, hoping she will take the hint that you really don’t want to leave Drayton right now. Yeah, the fight will be short-lived given the team differences, but all you really wanted to do was just cuddle up to his side like a Komala.

Completely unexpectedly, Carmine stops abruptly and places her hand on her chin, thinking intensely. The way she can just switch off her rage so quickly is scary but hilarious at the same time. “A shiny one would be cool... Plus, Scizor is a pretty tough Pokémon, so I would get some good training done. And Kiki doesn’t have a shiny, so when I talk to him later, I can use it if he gets too pushy again. ALRIGHT! I’m going to get a shiny Scizor!”

Without another word, she just bolted out the door as fast as she came in. Drayton is just confused as he chuckles to himself. "Well, that was something. I’m honestly surprised that it worked; you certainly have a better way of calming the beast than I do love.”

“I'm also surprised that worked! And don’t call her a beast. "You respond by laughing along with him. “Though I'm glad it did work, I was worried I'd have to battle her and miss out on my cuddles.”

“You know I'd never let you miss that! I’d be too lonely. Besides, what's gonna keep me warm when you’re not around? A blanket I think not.” He teased, pulling you against his chest with a smile, your hands resting on his chest. “Though just once, I'm actually glad Carmine interrupted us... Her yelling probably cleared off the whole corridor, so why don’t we head up to my dorm before the swarm files back in? I rented your favourite movie this week.”

“If I get to stay with you, then I am so in!” You cheer. Taking his hand into yours as you drag him out of the room, rush back to his dorm for the peace and quiet you both desperately want. So much yelling for such little time.

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thecolorblockcurator · 4 months

Text

I want to talk a little more on this topic of TERFs in art history.

Back a couple of years ago when I came out as trans on here I was surprised at all the hate messages I received. From terfs calling me the usual gender traitor, a confused woman- too old to be trans lol & a lot of other worse things. & a bunch just flooded my inbox announcing how they were disappointed in me & were unfollowing. 🙄

And I was confused why there were so many following me in the first place - after all I was queer- I loved & supported trans folks like how could they have found a home here?

But I unknowingly had been entrenched in terf & radfem ideology in art history I couldn’t see through it. I realized very quickly that Art History is home to a ton of TERFS.

My beloved professors (a few but not all) told us without a doubt that women artists were abused, they were denied, they were ignored, because they were women. They women artists were innately better artists, they had more complex things to say in their art and were more talented at saying them. They were pure, perfect, their stories mattered more than male artists. And history forgot about them so it was our duty to learn and share their work.

These professors would also say that male artists were innately violent, and their art could only ever objectify women. That you could tell an artists gender from heavy aggressive brushstrokes (if they were cis male) or if they were reclaiming their feminine voice with powerful strong brushstrokes (if they were a cis woman) - despite looking like the same exact brushstrokes

How women in art had an almost mystical like understanding of color and form in ways that her male colleagues couldn’t understand

One of my professors who was the loudest radfem taught feminist art history, art in the mid-century, and a couple other classes I forgot. (It’s been like 10 years now) She gave lecture after lecture that the art world was a boys only club. And therefore innately bad and malicious towards women artists. She worked for Helen Frankentaller!! Of course I was going to believe her!! I was paying to learn things from someone who should have been a trusted source why would I have to question them

It wasn’t until I critically listened to what I was repeating that I understood how wrong her views were. How deeply seeded terf ideology was in the art history world.

So those of you persuing art history- think critically & know that the field has unfortunately been a magnet for terfs for a while.

#art history

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berryhobii · 10 months

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My Person(knj x reader)

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x black!female!reader

Word Count: 8K+

Warnings: fluff, established relationship but the first part is how you met, I’m not very good at dialogue but I tried to make them have funny conversations, (18+ but I don’t control what you consume.) Smut, unprotected sex(please stay safe and have conversations with every sexual partner you have!), vaginal sex, slight anal play(he sticks his thumb in readers-), squirting, rough sex, soft dom Namjoon, slight breath play, strength kink(bc look at Namjoon), spanking(he’s obsessed with reader’s ass), reader is dark skinned and curvy, reader also has piercings(ears, belly button) and dark stretch marks, mentions of micro aggressions and discrimination but not much. I didn’t have a specific Namjoon in mind for this except that he’s buff so imagine him as whatever you like!

A/N: Hi! This is my first time posting on tumblr. I don’t know how to work it very well but I’m getting there. If anyone has any tips, please tell me! This story is for all of my black army’s, more specifically my dark skinned ones. I love fan fiction but I hardly see myself in the stories. I don’t blush, my hair is tightly coiled, I wear braids, I have dark stretch marks and I know that’s true of so many army’s out there. No hate to any writers. I hope to be a voice for all of my melanated readers out there. Please enjoy my first attempt! Any criticism is accepted and feel free to pop in to talk! Thank you💜

Namjoon met you at a popular club in downtown Seoul. It was his birthday and his friends wanted to take him out to get “shit faced drunk”. Jimin’s words, not his. He wasn’t much of a drinker. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t a lightweight or anything, his college years had built his immunity. He just wasn’t very interested in risking his liver every weekend like most of his friends did. It still baffled him how Jimin was in perfect health. He’s seen that guy pound back shots without flinching and he could still stand up straight.

Instead, he enjoyed quiet nights in reading while sipping tea or cultivating his small garden. Call him a nerd or a homebody, he didn’t care. It’s what he enjoyed and that was perfect for him.

Still, he was young so of course he liked going out with his friends. He was turning 26 and not getting any younger. These were his prime years to go out and party like no tomorrow before his mother started pushing him to settle down and get married. Not that he didn’t want to but he wanted to find love naturally, not by some meet up that his mother would arrange. She’s already sent a few young women his way but none of them worked out. They were all nice women but they just didn’t click.

The music was bumping, speakers shaking the ground underneath his feet. The atmosphere didn’t feel like the shoddy bars they used to go to back in college. This one was more sophisticated. Honestly, Namjoon was expecting something more…..unhinged. Considering Jimin and Taehyung planned this, he was fully expecting strippers or maybe tigers in cages.

“Come on, I got us a section upstairs.” Jimin yelled over the music, guiding them through the bodies and past the multiple tables and other sections filled with other club goers. The club was packed with people dressed to the nines; Rolex watches, Gucci purses. And was that someone wearing a Givenchy necklace? He swore he heard Taehyung saying just how expensive that thing was.

“How did you get us a section? Isn’t this place super exclusive?” Jungkook asked as he checked out one of the bottle girls that sauntered past.

They reached the top of the black carpeted staircase—there were multiple sections up on the balcony, most already occupied by other groups. They all seemed to be having fun taking shots, dancing, and snapping videos on their phones.

The section Jimin reserved was behind a black curtain. Hoseok let out an impressed whistle at the decor. “This place is awesome. Nice work, Jimin. Who’d you have to bang to get us here?”

Jimin just winked and held a finger to his lips. “Don’t worry about that. This is about Namjoon. Let’s order some bottles!”

The night was in full swing. A few rounds of “necessary” shots served by scantily clad bottle girls, including the one Jungkook checked out earlier. He made sure to slip her some extra cash along with his phone number just in case.

“Make sure you girls give the birthday boy here some extra attention.” Taehyung said, clapping Namjoon on the shoulder. Those words immediately made Namjoon feel nervous. While it was his birthday, that didn’t mean he wanted all eyes on him, especially from a lot of attractive women.

One of the girls leaned over to pour him a drink, her mascara coated eyelashes fluttering at him and her red stained lips lifting in a flirty smile. He gulped down a block in his throat, suddenly feeling shy. This woman was very beautiful but he doubted she was actually interested in him. It was her job to act this way and he didn’t want to assume anything just because she batted her eyelashes at him.

He threw back a shot of tequila given to him by Hoseok, the liquid burning as it went down and his face turning but he felt himself loosen up a bit.

Hoseok must have noticed his facial expression because he let out a laugh. “Hey, remember last time you had tequila?”

Yoongi, who had been expectedly quiet during this trip, suddenly slammed his hand down on the table. “Don’t bring that up.” He glared, dark eyes staring right into Hoseok’s soul. Hoseok mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. He was not about to poke that sleeping bear.

Namjoon laughed at their interaction. They all knew about that and no one ever mentioned it. Being a law major, Yoongi knew a lot of things about the legal system. A lot of things…..which probably meant he knew how to effectively get away with a crime….

He’d never do that though….right?

“Hey! Are you drinking tequila?” Seokjin exclaimed, drunkenly stumbling over to them. He was such a lightweight. Hoseok was too but the difference was that where Hoseok got quiet while drunk, Seokjin got loud.

Loud and loose lipped.

“Remember in college when both of you compared your dicks” a hiccup broke up his words, “took photos, and then accidentally sent them to Ms. Choi? And then she sent a nude back?” He guffawed a laugh, throwing an arm over a fuming Yoongi’s shoulder. If bodies could generate explosive heat from anger, Seokjin would be on fire right now. And if he didn’t die from that, Yoongi’s ice cold glare would surely freeze him.

Yoongi stood up, brushing his hyung off, mumbling something about whiskey before exiting the section.

Namjoon and Hoseok looked at each other before bursting in laughter—a confused Seokjin whining for his buddy to return.

All that laughter must have pushed his bladder to its limit. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

He made his way down the stairs, almost bumping into a girl carrying a tray of drinks on the way. Whew, that tequila must be getting to him. Ah, who is he kidding? He would have fully crashed into that girl completely sober. Does alcohol straighten out his normal clumsiness? He could test that theory later.

For now, bathroom.

After relieving himself, quickly since he accidentally walked in on two men incredibly close to penetration, he tried making his way back to the stairs. He passed the dance floor, seeing all of the packed bodies dancing and having a good time. He wasn’t much of a dancer but it looked like fun. Maybe when he got back to his friends, he’d suggest it. He knew Jimin and Hoseok would be down, Jungkook too. Yoongi had probably disappeared to the bar but they all knew he’d be against it.

Seokjin would……

Wow…

All thoughts about his friend’s willingness to dance were cut off when he caught sight of you.

You were absolutely stunning, a stand out in this overcrowded place full of drunken rich kids. The shiny decorations and strobe lights seemed dim in comparison to your effervescent beauty.

The silky expanse of your golden sepia brown thighs made him clench his fists, fingers tingling to sink into the plush fat. You crossed one knee high boot clad leg over the other, your ass practically smothering the little bar chair under you. Your cheek rested on your palm, deep brown eyes staring listlessly into the fruity drink in front of you. You were scrolling through your phone, manicured finger slowly tapping on the screen. Now that he looked more closely, you seemed…..down.

Were you alone? Why did you seem so upset in a place like this?

You must have felt eyes on you because you turned your head, locking eyes with him. His breath got caught in his throat. Your front profile was even more ethereal than your side; your skin was dewy and glittery, sparkling under the lights. Full lips outlined in black with a clear gloss over them, smokey eyeshadow made your eyes look even more captivating, and your hair was long and in braids he’s only seen in old school hip hop videos he used to watch.

You tossed your braided hair over your shoulder, the tips ending just below your thighs, eyes focused solely on him.

Your staring contest was cut short when someone threw an arm over his shoulders. He startled, quickly whipping his head around. His pounding heart calmed at the sight of Jimin.

Jimin leaned closer to almost yell in his ear. “Why are you just standing here? Let’s go dance!”

Namjoon nodded, about to follow Jimin but he couldn’t help but look back towards where that mysterious person was just sitting. Only to find you gone. He felt a slight pang of disappointment. Where had you gone? Did you leave? His eyes searched the crowd but he didn’t find you. He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it before Hoseok and Jungkook joined them, dragging him to the dance floor, their laughter almost as loud as the music.

Dancing had pretty much made him forget about you. While you were very gorgeous, he doubted you’d ever cross paths again. It was just a small connection in a club, it wouldn’t go anywhere.

He made his way off the dance floor, sweat rolling down the back of his neck and throat dry. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, letting out a breath once he made it to the bar.

“Can I get a water please?” He asked the bartender who nodded and moved to take another order.

As he waited, his eyes scanned the other people at the bar—the counter was a large circle that took up a lot of surface area, tall shelves held most of the alcohol, a draft beer tap area just in front of him.

Something moved to the left of him so he innocently looked to the side. And the alluring eyes that stared back at him caught him by surprise.

It was you again.

He almost couldn’t believe you had appeared before him once again, closer and looking directly at him. Now that you were so close, he could appreciate just how absolutely striking you were. Your lashes were long and delicate, a helix piercing in your right ear, a chain hanging from it that connected to the second piercing in your earlobe. He also spotted the cutest little mole under your left eye.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until the bartender placed his water in front of him, the feeling of the cold glass pressing against his hand breaking him from his frozen state. He blinked his eyes frantically, averting his gaze to his glass of water.

How embarrassing. He must have looked like a creep staring at you and the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.

“Can I get a strawberry virgin margarita please?”

He was surprised at how light and airy your voice was. It didn’t quite match your dark clothes and leather boots but he guessed that was just one surprise about you. He wondered if you had any more.

“Water, huh? You a lightweight?”

He didn’t answer at first. Were you talking to him? You must be. He was the only one with a glass of water across this entire bar.

Chuckling, he shrugged his shoulder, not noticing how her eyes focused on his muscles. “My throat was dry. Alcohol actually dehydrates you.” He instantly regretted saying that. Bore you with random facts, that’ll keep you interested. Clearing his throat, he motioned to the drink the bartender had just placed in front of her. “How about you? Drinking something that looks like alcohol without any actual alcohol seems more like lightweight behavior.”

That made you laugh, the sound hitting his ears and itching his brain in the best of ways. The sight of your sparkling teeth and the way your eyes crinkled at the ends made his heart speed up. You were captivating, he almost couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

It was your turn to shrug, index finger twirling the straw. “I guess I just like to feel adventurous while still keeping my inhibitions. Alcohol affects the prefrontal cortex first, the part of the brain that controls impulse, judgement and reasoning.”

His mouth dropped open in shock. Did you just….?

You bashfully giggled, eyes focusing on the designs on your oval, manicured nails. “Sorry. That was kind of weird to say, huh?”

He shook his head so hard that his neck could have cracked. “No! Not at all. I didn’t even know that. That’s really interesting.”

Your shy smile made you all the more endearing. “Is it? My friends say I’m kind of a bore.”

He smiled back at you. “Mine do too but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a healthy dose of knowledge. Facts like that can save lives.”

“I’m y/n.”

“Namjoon. It’s a pleasure.”

Sitting and talking with you, Namjoon learned a lot about you. You were a 24 year old foreigner who moved here 2 years ago to attend Seoul University, a full ride scholarship under your belt. You taught yourself Korean through books and the nice lady at a grocery store from your hometown. You loved mangoes and hated ketchup, your favorite number was 4—and when you were 5, you accidentally walked followed the dolphin trainers at the aquarium and almost drowned. Now you were afraid of open bodies of water.

Namjoon also found you to be incredibly optimistic, charismatic, and sweet. He was absorbed in every word that passed your glossed lips, falling a little deeper with each shy giggle and tug of your ear that you did whenever you said something embarrassing. You were so adorable and Namjoon found himself wanting to hear more about you.

Currently, you two were laughing about a story Namjoon was telling you.

“No way!”

He nodded his head. “It’s true.“

You wiped a tear from your eye, laughter reducing itself to little giggles. “How do you fail a driver’s test 6 times? There should be a limit.”

“Yeah. The driving instructor knew me by name. My mom even invited him over for dinner when I finally passed. Apparently, he also had a bet going on with his friends on how many tries it would take me.”

Your laughter picked up again. “I’d make that bet too.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad.” He pouted. “I’ve never gotten pulled over or a ticket. I even keep both hands on the wheel.”

You leaned your cheek against your palm, much like how you did when he first laid eyes on you. This time, however, your eyes weren’t bored or sad—they were filled with mirth and light. He wanted to see you like that all the time.

“So what are you doing out tonight? Did you come with friends?”

He noticed how your eyes kind of dimmed, fingers lifting to tug at your ear again. A sense of panic immediately flooded his stomach. Oh no, had he offended you? And the conversation was going so well too.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Your eyes lifted to his, mouth slightly dropping open. “Oh! No, you didn’t offend me.” You waved your hands around. “It’s a honest question. I did come here with friends but I think they ditched me.”

He didn’t know these so called friends but right now, he wanted nothing more than to give them a piece of his mind for leaving you alone.

“What assholes. They don’t sound like very good friends.”

Your eyes casted to the watch on his wrist and then up to meet his eyes once again. “No. I guess they aren’t.”

“I’d never leave you alone like that. I’d at least have the courtesy to leave a text or something. It’s dangerous to go anywhere alone this late.” He didn’t even realize he was rambling or the frustration that was building in his chest.

A soft hand on his arm stopped him from his rant, his eyes meeting yours. The brown irises sparkled, a gentle smile on your face that made heat rise to the tips of his ears.

“Thank you, Namjoon. You sound like a really good friend. I’d love to have a friend like you looking out for me.”

The sincerity of your words made him feel all warm and dizzy. He didn’t even remember why he was upset anymore, not when you were looking at him that way. Not when you were touching him so softly and definitely not when you were so close.

A sheepish smile crossed his face, dimple indenting his cheek even deeper. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, gaze going to a random spot on the bar. “Um….yeah. I just….friends should be like family. They should look out for you. I’d…..I’d look out for you like that.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” Your hand moved from his arm, your warmth leaving at the same time and causing him to feel cold. “But enough about me, how about you? Why are you out to tonight?”

“It’s my birthday. My friends took me out. They thought I needed a night to let loose. I normally prefer to spend my time indoors or out in nature but they thought I needed to go out and party. It is my 26th after all, not getting any younger.”

You hummed. “Well, happy birthday. I hope you’re having a nice time.”

“I am.” He looked deeply into your eyes when he said that. Your eyes widened a little, fingers twitching to rise to your ear but you pushed it the feeling down. After a few seconds of staring, you coughed, reaching for your drink to sip down the remainder of it.

He offered you another smile. “May I buy you another?”

“It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t I be offering you a drink?” That little teasing smile and tone came back. You were too cute.

“You can offer next time.”

“So there will be a next time?”

“If you allow it.”

You bit your lip, trying to force down the smile that threatened at your lips. Damn, he got you.

Namjoon didn’t even realize how much time had passed until his friends came searching for him. Jungkook was balancing a sleeping Hoseok on his shoulder, Seokjin and Taehyung not too far behind and stumbling all over the place.

“We’ve been looking all over for you. Where’d you go? It’s almost 3AM.” Jimin said, the only one who looked normal but judging by that glassy look in his eye, he was wasted too.

“Ah sorry. I was just speaking to someone. Got caught up.”

You gave all of the conscious men a wave, flashing a smile as well. “Hi. Sorry I hogged your friend.”

Jimin and Jungkook’s eyes almost popped out of their heads at the sight of you. They looked at each other and then at you and then at Namjoon.

Namjoon coughed, noticing the looks on their faces. Jimin was the first to smile, shaking his head at you. “No, no. It’s cool. Hog him all you like.” He flashed a look at Namjoon that read “later” before smiling again. “Yoongi hyung’s waiting outside. Can you drive your car or do you feel drunk?”

Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok definitely weren’t driving anywhere. And he’d feel bad if he let the others haul the family drunkies all the way home.

And then there’s you….

He turned to you, your eyes lifting to meet his and instantly smiling.

“Do you need a ride home? Or an Uber? I’d be happy to take you or request one.”

His offer gave you a weird feeling behind your rib cage. Shaking your head, you stood to your feet. “I drove here. I’m not drunk either. I’m pretty sure I can get back.”

“Are you sure? At least let me walk you to your car. The bar’s are emptying out and I want you to be safe.”

“I’m sure. Your friends look like they need you more than I do.” You looked behind him, seeing how the broad shouldered one was trying to lay a kiss on the pierced one who was balancing a sleeping one.

Namjoon waved his hand. “They’re big boys. I’m pretty sure no one would kidnap them. They’d bring Seokjin hyung back for sure. He’d talk their ears off.”

An indignant, “hey!” came from behind Namjoon.

You let out a giggle. “I think I got it. I’m a big girl. I cross the street all the time by myself.”

Namjoon ran a hand through his hair. He was sad you had to go. He really wanted to talk to you more.

“Do you think…..I could have your number? I’d love to see you again.”

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, leaning forward a bit to crowd his space. Like this, he could smell your perfume—fruity and feminine and oh so you.

“I’d like that. Maybe you can show me what helped you succeed on try number 7.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling. Fuck, you were amazing.

You exchanged numbers, you putting his contact as Namjoon 10 And 2💜. Him putting you down as y/n🐬.

You followed him and the others outside into the breezy Seoul air. Summer was just getting ready to leave but thankfully, it was still pretty nice outside.

“I’ll see you around, Namjoon.” The way you said his name made him want to hear it more and more from your lips.

He gave you a little wave. “Bye. Get home safe.”

“You too.” Tossing your braids over your shoulder, you gave him one final look before bidding his friends goodbye and starting your walk down the street. He watched you until you disappeared from his sight, letting out a dreamy sigh when he could no longer see you.

“Well, look at you, Casanova. Didn’t know you had it in you.” Jimin teased, clapping a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Yeah. She was…..amazing.“

Taehyung stumbled over, almost falling if not for Namjoon catching him. “Awwwww, our Joonie hyung’s in loveeeeeee…”

Rolling his eyes, he helped Taehyung stand a little straighter, bearing his weight. “Come on. You can crash at my place.”

And as Namjoon laid in bed that night, he thought about just how memorable this night had been. He’d spent time with his friends, celebrated his birthday, and met the most wonderful woman ever.

His phone pinged from his bedside. Leaning over, he grabbed it and unlocked it, a smile rising to his face at the name.

y/n🐬: made it home and in bed. I tried driving with both of my hands on the wheel. I felt lame

He rolled over, arm tucking under his pillow, phone illuminating the doofy smile on his face.

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

Not yet.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

He looked up from his phone, attention going to your body as you climbed on top of him. You both had finished dinner and having a shower and were now getting ready for bed. He was scrolling through his social media, timeline bringing up memories from 2 years ago. It was a photo Jungkook posted, a candid shot of them—Yoongi and Namjoon were raising their glasses to the camera, Taehyung and Jimin cheering while clinking shots together, Hoseok was staring blankly at nothing and Jungkook was cheesing hard. He doesn’t even remember this picture being taken but he can remember how he felt that night. He felt so free and happy, being with this best friends and partying like there was no tomorrow. It was great.

He connected eyes with you. God, you were just as gorgeous as the first day he met you, maybe even more. Dressed down and barefaced, he thought you were the picture of beauty and allure. Everything you did enchanted him—even something as simple as when you’d put your chopsticks in your hand one by one or the way you’d shake your arms because they’d get tired when you braided your hair.

You were perfect to him. Everything he could ever want and need. You completed him. You gave him what he lacked, supported him wholeheartedly and genuinely, and loved him in a way that he’s never felt before.

You were his person.

He showed you his phone. You observed the picture for a moment. “Isn’t that from your birthday 2 years ago? But your birthday was last week, why is it just now appearing in your memories?”

He placed his phone on the bedside table, hands going to your bare thighs since you hated wearing pants to bed. Weird since you wore socks to bed, only to take them off in your sleep but adorable nonetheless.

“Jungkook posted it a week later. It was that week after he dropped his phone in that pond.” His fingertips lightly grazed over the dark stretch marks that stretched over your thighs and love handles. He loved every inch of you. You were so confident and sure of yourself, never letting anyone’s comments diminish your glow.

You let out an “ah” of recognition. “Oh yeah. He would carry his iPad everywhere.”

Namjoon chuckled. His friend was so silly.

“That was the night we met. Has it been two years already?”

He hummed and exhaled a deep breath. “Yeah. It went by so fast.”

You leaned down to press your foreheads together, one hand coming to rest on his collarbone. Your thumb gently stroked the skin there, playing with the silver chain that sat around his throat. You remembered when he had broken the clasp on one he had before and he was actually really upset about it. He said it was a gift from an old friend that had passed away a while back. While he tried to act like it was fine, you could see just how broken up about it he was so you wanted to do something to make him happy again.

So while he was away, you took the necklace to a jewelry repair store and got the clasp replaced. You surprised him with it the next day and the look of absolute elation on his face was enough to move you. That was the first time you had seen him cry. He hugged you so tightly, his warmth seeping into your bones and tears soaking your shirt. And you held him until he had fallen asleep, the repaired necklace clasped around his neck.

It was also the first time he said he loved you, the three little words sending you to cloud 9. You loved Namjoon too. He was really the first actual friend you made since coming to Seoul. Being a foreigner, people treated you differently. If not by their micro aggressions or blatant rudeness, it was how they ignored you and treated you like you didn’t exist.

The “friends” you went to the bar with that time were classmates of yours. They were nice at the start, always asking questions about your hair and about America. You were just happy to have friends so you didn’t mind. You felt like there was a bit of a gap between you and them. Your Korean wasn’t that good when you arrived so that language barrier often made things a little awkward.

And when they invited you out to a high class bar in the nicer part of Seoul, you were happy to tag along. You didn’t leave your apartment much aside from school and work. Mainly because you were still a little uncomfortable being in a new country despite living here for close to 2 years. It kind of felt like you were just drifting around and biding your time until graduation.

But you didn’t want to do that. You were in a new country! You could make new experiences and learn new things. You should be getting out and having fun.

So you dressed in one of your most adventurous outfits and you met your friends at the bar. At first, everything was going fine. They were taking shots and pictures and you were trying to loosen up. Eventually, your friends went to dance while you went to go to the bathroom. They were gone when you returned and you couldn’t find them in the sea of people.

That’s why you were sitting alone. You were waiting for them to come back but after about an hour and a half with no update, you were getting ready to leave.

That was until you saw Namjoon. Just from across the room, you felt a connection between you both. When you saw his friends come up to him, you sighed and got up to go to the bathroom. At least his friends looked like they wanted to be around him.

A few Korean men had approached you throughout the night while you sat alone and while you tried to be nice, they were much too imposing and forceful. That’s what led you to the bar. You wanted some space and maybe one more mock tail before going home.

Seeing Namjoon again was a complete coincidence. You didn’t even notice he was at the bar until you stood next to him, your eyes instinctively looking over.

And wow….

He was so much more handsome up close—tall, broad, and those biceps looked like he could throw you around a room without breaking a sweat.

Whew…you were repressed.

Those thoughts ceased from your mind the moment you two started talking. Namjoon was wholesome and intelligent, a little bit goofy and very very lovely. Unlike most of the men you’ve encountered so far, Namjoon wasn’t pushy or sleazy—he was a gentleman, he listened to every word you said, and he kept you engaged. It almost felt a little too good to be true.

But it wasn’t. You deserved it. And so did he.

“That’s okay. At least we know we cherished every single day.”

“And I’ll cherish each one after that.”

He reciprocated your wide smile, love and adoration flooding both of your gazes.

“I love you, Namjoon.”

“And I love you.”

Your lips met in a sensual kiss. You melted further into his hold, your chests pressing against one another. His thumbs rubbed at where your panties sank into your plush hips, tilting his chin so that he could kiss you deeper.

It didn’t take long for you to start moving your hips cover his crotch, sweats being your only barrier.

He pulled away from you, both of you panting, gazes locked and stirring with desire.

“You aren’t tired from my birthday weekend? We barely made our reservation.” Namjoon recalled.

You snorted, lifting back up. “If I remember correctly, it was you who couldn’t keep it in your pants right before we walked out of the door.”

“You looked absolutely ravishing in that dress. Did you see your ass?” Delivering a swift smack to one of your cheeks and then squeezing the burning skin. He was obsessed with your ass. It was perfect for your hips and thighs, perfectly round and it rippled in the most delicious of ways whenever he slapped it. Not to mention, it filled out whatever you wore; skirts, dresses, jeans….You in jeans should be considered a world wonder. For his eyes only though.

You didn’t try to fight down your grin. “Me? Did you see your arms in that dress shirt? I was ready to ride you the moment you buttoned it up.”

Biting his lip, his fingers went under the band of your panties. “Why don’t you ride me now? Give me a demonstration.”

Your eyes darkened at the feeling of his hardening cock pressing into your covered heat.

“I’ll give you more than that.”

Leaning forward again, you placed a sweet peck to his lips before trailing down to his throat. You sucked and nipped at the skin there, careful not to leave any marks too high that would show over his collar. Good thing the base of his neck and his collarbone were open and safe for marking.

He let out a sigh at the feeling, body shivering when you ran your lips over his soft spot. Lifting up to study your work and feeling satisfied at the darkening marks across his chest, you began kissing your way down his body. He’s been spending more time in the gym so the flat expanse of his tummy was starting to harden, light abs beginning to form. You loved feeling the hard muscle, your manicured fingertips ghosting over them. He sighed again, stomach seizing up a little at your touch.

Finally, you reached your destination. Eyes hungrily taking in the large bulge in his black briefs. Your hand raised to rub over it, feeling his cock jerk slightly from your touch. Reaching for the band of his underwear, you tugged them down, him lifting his hips to help you. Once the stupid fabric was tossed to the floor, you got to take in the thick and throbbing cock in front of you—a lush pink tip with veins running all over it and precum leaking from the tip. Delicious.

Licking your lips, you ran your tongue over the underside, all the way to the tip where you sucked him into your mouth. His legs tensed up, sighing at the feeling. Finally.

Your tongue flicked under the head of his cock, his most sensitive spot. His hand lifting to rest on your head, making sure to be gentle since he knew your scalp was still a little sore from your new hairstyle. He remembers coming home from work to find you in the bathroom laying down your baby hairs. When he left that morning, you were in your natural hair, the tight coils refreshed and bouncy. He loved any hairstyle you had and he thought it was amazing that you could transform it into so many ways. Throughout the summer, you had been wearing it more naturally and on his birthday weekend, you installed a beautiful honey blonde wig that he really liked.

Now, you were in shoulder blade length boho braids. You had sat in the bathroom for hours following a YouTube tutorial, arms constantly getting tired and a few of the braids turning out a little wonky but in the end, you thought they looked good. It was a good try. And when Namjoon came home, his eyes brightening and compliments flowing, you felt even more beautiful.

And much like right now, you had given him the blowjob of his life that day.

One hand grabbing his shaft, you pursed your lips to drool spit on his tip before sucking him back into your mouth. You did that a few more times to fully slick up his cock, hand pumping up and down his shaft.

“Fuck. Come on, baby. Stop teasing.”

Humming around his cock, you took him all the way down, relaxing your throat to swallow him all the way. His back arched, the warm heat of your mouth feeling absolutely amazing. Lots of practice made you a master at deepthroating his cock. Before, you could barely go down halfway without gagging but now, you could take him to the hilt without flinching.

You bobbed your head up and down his cock, both hands digging into his strong thighs as a balance. You hollowed your cheeks when you came up, cupping your tongue along the underside of his cock. You wanted him to feel absolutely every sensation and god damn, he did.

His eyes he didn’t realize were even closed finally opened, head lifting to look down at you. Breath hitching when he saw you were already staring up at him. If there was one thing you loved, it was eye contact. The way your brown irises stared directly into his made him feel fuzzy all over.

That feeling in the base of his tummy began to form and he knew he had to stop you. “Shit, stop baby. Stop.”

You pulled off his cock with a pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Trying to regain your breath, you crawled back up to straddle his stomach, leaning over him again to kiss him. His hands grabbed at your hips, rubbing the skin there before traveling up your sides under your shirt. He tugged at the fabric, you releasing his lips to take it off—your body now revealed to him and it was the picture of perfection.

From your deep brown nipples down to the pudge of your belly where a pink belly button piercing sat to the swell of your hips. You were dazzling, the picture of femininity, goddess like. So many words yet not enough to describe you fully.

You were just perfect.

His hands ran up to your nipples, tweaking the buds and squeezing your breasts. You sighed, eyes fluttering closed at the little sparks of pleasure you felt. That pleasure went right to the space between your thighs, dampening your already soaked panties even further.

“Get up here and sit on my face, baby.” Namjoon’s deep voice ordered and who were you to deny him?

Climbing off his lap and to the side of him, he lifted up to help you out of your panties. The grey fabric was now almost black with how soaked they were. He lifted the clothing to his noise, inhaling deeply.

“Fuck.” He tossed them to the ground, dragon like eyes staring deep into your soul. His gaze sent shivers down your spine. He was so fucking sexy—hair messy and thick lips bitten red. “Get the fuck up here.”

You barely had time to move before he was grabbing your thighs and hauling you up to his face. You moaned from the movement. Okay so maybe you had a bit of a strength kink. Who wouldn’t when your man was 6’1 with biceps bigger than melons and thighs thick enough to crush your head.

And Namjoon knew it.

Now with your glistening pussy right above him, he could show you another part of his body that you loved.

Tongue swiping through your slit, he hummed at the taste. You were dripping, a single strand of wetness dripping down to hit his chin.

You grabbed the headboard once you felt his tongue graze over your clit, a light moan coming from your lips.

His lips wrapped around the bud, sucking it with enough pressure to send you reeling. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs, one hand on your ass to hold you closer. His tongue lapped over your clit, the little bud pulsing under his ministrations.

“Ahhh, Joon….” You moaned out. He hummed against your pussy, the vibrations striking right through you.

A swift slap to your ass made you squeal. “Ride my face, gorgeous.”

Always a good girl, you adjusted your knees before you started rocking on his tongue. The rough texture stimulated your clit in the best way, the feeling of Namjoon’s hands slapping at your ass fueling you on.

Your mouth was dropped open, head tossed back as hot pleasure sparkled all across your body. That band in your stomach beginning to wind itself tighter and tighter.

Hand coming down to wrap in his hair to pull him closer, you humped against his tongue, clit feeling so sensitive yet so fucking good. Namjoon knew you were close so he moved his head with your hips, hands gripping at your ass hard enough to leave bruises.

“Oh my god! I’m cumming! Fffffff-uhhhhh….”

Your orgasm crashed into your body, pleasurable waves radiating down your spine.

He flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit until you shivered in overstimulation, sitting yourself on his chest. Both of your chests heaved, gazes locked as you came down.

“Ready for more?” You asked, eyes squinting and a teasing smile on your face.

He smirked. “I believe a demonstration was in order?”

Working your way down, you straddled his hips once again, feeling his cock press against your sopping heat. Your lips locked in another kiss, this one a little more desperate.

Reaching under yourself, you grabbed his cock in your hand, stroking him a little.

A hand came down on your ass, the burn making you moan.

“Sit on my fucking cock. Right. Now.”

His voice sent shivers down your spine but you obliged. Lining his cock with your entrance, you slid down his shaft—thick girth stretching you open in the most delicious of ways, your walls constricting around him.

Namjoon’s hands gripped at your ass, feeling like he would float away. Your pussy was so warm and squeezed around him so tightly. He’s had sex in the past but no one would ever compare to you. The way your body reacted to him, how your pretty eyes crossed a little at the feeling of his cock filling you up. He was obsessed with you.

And he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life.

Once he was all the way inside, you let out a breath.

“You feel so good.” He sighed.

You kissed him again, loving the feeling of his lips on yours. “So do you. So big.”

Your hips began moving against him, gaining a comfortable rhythm. His cock rubbed against your walls—you could feel him pulsing inside of you, the head of his cock reaching deeper inside.

His head fell back against the pillows, eyes closing as he focused on the way your pussy felt around him.

“Feel good, baby?” You whispered in his ear, sucking the lobe into your mouth. You moved back and forth against him, your breasts pressed against his chest.

“Yeah.”

Adjusting yourself, you began bouncing up and down on his cock, the wet slap of your ass against his thighs filling the room.

He slapped your ass again, using his hands to help you move against him. “That’s it. Bounce on that cock, baby.”

You moaned. “Your cock feels s-so good.” Mouth dropping open in pleasure, you began to move faster on his cock. The head was rubbing right up against that soft spot inside of you. That band was starting to tighten again. Only Namjoon could push you to orgasm so quickly. Just as much as you knew his body, he knew yours. You two were perfectly in sync.

“Turn around, baby.”

You whined from having to stop but you did what he asked, secretly loving how he bossed you around. Keeping him inside, you turned around on his cock so he could get a view of your juicy ass.

You started your rhythm back up, ass jiggling as it met his hips. Your back arched, sweat dripping down your spine and making your melanated skin glisten. His eyes were mesmerized by it, cock throbbing at the sight. Namjoon could watch you bounce on his cock forever. If he could frame it, he would. But this was for his eyes only and he liked to keep it that way.

Your hands found stability on his knees, leaning forward to bounce even harder on him. Namjoon’s hands spread your cheeks to get a full view of your pussy. He groaned at the sight of your sweet cunt wrapped around him, your viscous wetness soaking his cock, a ring of cream starting to form at the base.

“Pussy’s so good, baby. So fucking tight.”

You clenched around him at the praise, basking in his attention.

“Mmmmm. M’gonna cum again….baby….” You breathed out, head falling forward as pleasure consumed you. His cock was scrambling your brain, your entire being consumed by him. He made you feel so good, so beautiful, so utterly loved and adored that you could burst.

“Me too. Do it. Cum all over my cock.”

Thumb swiping over your puckered hole, he barely stuck the tip of it in before you were cumming all over his cock.

The feeling of your walls gripping him like vice was enough to push him over too. He spilled into your warm heat, moving you back and forth against him to ride out both of your orgasms.

But it wasn’t enough.

Before you could even come down, you were being tossed onto your back, legs being thrown up until you were folded in half. You could barely react before his lips were wrapped around your clit. His head moved side to side, slurping up all of the juices you offered.

“Ohhhhh f-fff-uhhhh! Namjoon!” Your head kept lifting to watch him and falling back into the pillow. You wanted to watch but just the sight of him between your thighs was enough to propel you to another gut wrenching orgasm. Your hips jumped against his face, his hands holding your thighs to keep you still.

He pulled away from your cunt, juices all over his chin and cheeks. The sight made your pussy clench, more wetness leaking out of you.

Keeping your legs up, Namjoon brought his hard cock back to your opening, pushing inside with no hesitation. You screamed at the intrusion, walls sporadically clenching and unclenching around him. Your lungs burned, trying to suck in air but he was punching it all out of you.

The connections in your brain were going all haywire, all of your thoughts absorbed by him and the feeling of his cock bullying your walls.

Namjoon set a punishing pace, hips pistoling in and out of you until you could almost feel him in your throat. His eyes found where you were connected, your juices and his cum spilling out in a messy mixture. Everything was so wet. He was slipping in and out of you so easily and it felt so good.

Your eyes crossed, mouth open as screams and chants of his name left you. His right hand came up to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly—not enough to cut off your already sparse air but just enough for you to feel it. Your hands scratched at his arms, the burn fueling him further.

Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were truly a sight to behold. He almost wanted to tattoo this image on his eyelids. Your pleasurable state was one of his favorite sights, right next to you smiling, your ass, and that confused look you got on your face that first time you saw a pink strawberry. Strawberries were red, right?

He could feel your walls suffocating his cock once again. You were close. Incoherent ramblings fell from your lips, chants of how good he felt and how close you were. His hand released your throat, both coming up to hold onto the headboard and hips slamming into you even harder.

“N-Namjoon!” Tears welled in your eyes, overwhelming pleasure and love filling your veins. You loved him so much. He was everything to you. He was your person.

Your orgasm hit you so hard that your vision went white, ears ringing and toes curling. This orgasm was stronger than your others and it felt slightly different but very familiar.

Your walls forced Namjoon’s cock out of you, a short burst of liquid leaving your pussy. He used his cock to slap at your clit, prolonging your pleasure.

“Good girl! Squirt all over my cock.” He praised, a slightly sadistic smile spread across his face. He loved you like this—when your pleasure absolutely consumed you to the point where your body reacted this way.

A few tugs to his own cock and he came as well, spurts of cum landing on your pussy and dripping down your ass.

He slowly let your legs down, massaging your thighs. Leaning over you, he pressed a few kisses to your temple and cheeks, whispering sweet words to you as you came down.

After a few moments, you let out a hum, lifting your weak arms to wrap around his neck and pull him into a kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asked after pulling away.

“More than okay. I haven’t squirted like that in a while.”

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Mhmm. I love when you do. It’s so hot.” His softening cock rubbed against your ultra sensitive clit, your body jumping and a whine falling from your lips.

“Stop.” You whined. “I feel like my pussy is going to fall off.”

“Well, we can’t have that. Why don’t we go shower and have some cake?”

Your smile was dazzling. “That sounds amazing.”

After you were done using the bathroom and cleaning up, you went to cut the cake, not trusting Namjoon with a knife.

“Don’t want you losing any fingers. I won’t be able to live if you lost those.” You winked, giggling when he gave you a playful slap to your ass.

While you did that, he sat on the couch and went back to his phone. It was still open to the photo of his friends. Liking it, he closed out his social media and went to the page he was looking at before he opened Instagram.

The bright colored logo stared him him in the face, that feeling of anxiousness rising in his chest once again.

“I sliced some strawberries too. All fully red, as they should be.”

At the sight of you, that pressure alleviated, adoration swelling at how adorable you were.

Why was he so nervous in the first place? He couldn’t remember and for now, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was you.

“Pink strawberries are valid.”

“They’re confusing! It’s like, why are strawberries red but strawberry candy is always pink? Then do they use pink strawberries for candy? It’s ridiculous.”

Yeah. You.

Staring up at the building, Namjoon inhaled a deep breath, palms feeling sweaty. The drive here had been full of nerves. He swore his hands were on 11 and 3 this time.

Calm down. Deep breath. Everything would be fine.

A kind woman greeted him at the door.

“Welcome to Euphoria Jewelers. How can I help you?”

“I want to buy a ring.”

#bts smut #kim namjoon #bts #bts fan fiction #bts imagines #black representation #bts x black reader #namjoon smut #rm #bts fic

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reqxxyt · 1 year

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"Are you ever going to settle down" p.g

pairings: piere gasly x f!reader

warnings: rushed ending, sexual interactions mentioned

masterlist

“Are you ever going to settle down?” my middle-aged aunt sat across from me and asked with the same passive-aggressive smile she gave the rest of the family. I could feel my own mother tense at her words knowing a relationship is the last thing I want and I expressed that very proudly. But instead of trying to get into another stupid argument on how I don’t need a guy to fulfill my needs and wants I just shook my head and smiled the fakest I’ve ever gave.

“I’m content on my own” I summarized my speech that wanted to itch out of my throat. Her smile dropped before being replaced with one that leaked sympathy, something I hate being the reciprocate of. She turned to my mom, hoping to hear some words from her but all she got was a shrug.

“What about having children?” I had clearly seen that question coming, being nearly 28 and having most women figures in my family start their family in their early twenties, it's strange to hear someone claim they don’t want kids. At least any time soon.

“Not in the plan right now,” I said with the urge to leave, hating the interrogating questions. I’ve had my fair share of relationships and I figured out they just aren’t for me. Plus, I am terrible with kids. All the kids I’ve approached just see me as a quiet, intimidating person that stares down at them because they refused to go down on their knees as they have a sensitive backs.

Later on that same day, I was on a call with my friend of nearly a decade complaining about my aunt and her unnecessary sympathy.

“Maybe you should consider going back into dating,” she said on edge because she knew how much I hated when people suggested the option. Instead of declaring the same thing I did with my aunt, I simply stared her down until she rolled her own eyes. “Just saying. You can’t live your whole life in a club and hook up with the first person you deem attractive”

“Doesn’t sound so bad” I shrugged but knowing it was a terrible life path. “Besides, I just don’t think there are people out there who want the same things as me. To not have kids right away, to be lenient and just let the relationship be itself until it either ends or feels right.”

“There are lots but okay,” she said and I wanted to groan, starting to become frustrated at the entire situation. “How about I set you up with someone?”

“You?” I asked already hating the idea of that happening. She nodded before saying “Hear me out. I have this distant friend who lives near you, I think you’ve seen him at my boyfriend birthday. Really nice, definitely your type”

“Type? Are we in high school?” I said judging her choice of words making her now the one to give me a blank stare.

“Shut up. Besides, it will give you a chance to escape from the whole relationship talk with your aunt”

The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t sound so insane to me. Doesn’t hurt to give it a chance, right?

“Fine,” I said and she smiled brightly. “If this doesn’t work, you have to name your kid after me”

“Never happening. But, if this does work, you have to allow me to make a speech at your wedding” and like that, we made a deal.

I dressed in a simple outfit, figuring it was going to be cold wearing a blazer with a black long sleeve and dress pants. I hated going on dates because of the first impression and since I had never met this person before, their first impression is visuals. Not like I had much of a choice either way.

I entered the coffee shop not spotting anyone that stood out and looking as if waiting for someone. I walked up to the cashier ordering a simple latte already imagining the worse as I frantically texted my friend, asking her when he would arrive.

“Y/n?” I heard my name being spoken from a familiar french accent. I turned around and my movements froze.

Well he’s definitely my type. I had seen him at the party my friend mentioned. I’d even talked to him, ending up at his place before leaving the next morning without exchanging another word to each other.

My eyes widened, immediately recognizing him while he searched my face with a curious gaze, trying to recognize me before finally remembering.

“Well, I finally got your name” he said with a small smile, finding it comical while I wanted to die internally. The one time I hooked up with a guy at a mutual party turns out to be my blind date my friend set me up with. We stood in silence for a moment before I finally looked down, no longer being able to look at his colored eyes. “Pierre”

“Y/n” I said out of pure habit before realizing he already knew my name and face palmed myself, ready to dig my own grave. He only laughed assuring it was fine, ordering his own coffee while I stood on the side waiting for him to finish.

We sat next to a window, a small booth forcing to face each other. He was the first to speak “I honestly didn’t think I would see you again. Especially like this”

“Neither did I” i mumbled, barely heard by him. I immediately felt terrible for leaving without not saying anything. “I’m sorry for just leaving, I-”

“It’s fine” he shrugged before I could finish my excuse. “Want to start over?”

Hearing those words with his small, comforting smile somehow made me want to stay. I didn’t feel the need to run away like many other situations, I felt okay being here. I wanted to stay.

“Sure, Pierre” testing out how his name rolled off my tongue, loving it myself. I caught his cheeks getting pinker, whether from the freezing degree whether or my two words, I’ll never know until I would ask months later. “What do you like to do?”

“Well…” and the conversation flowed from there. After the first couple of dates, he asked me out and I without much mental debatting, agreed allowing the relationship to flow on its own.

After a long 3 years, he asked me to marry him. Again, no hesitation needed. No questioning myself whether this was for the best.

I didn’t settle down for him. I settled down with him.

#pierre gasly #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine

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cherriko-art · 1 month

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I haven't even started Leah's romance route yet but I've already got their entire relationship and dynamic mapped out in my head.

Rambling into the void, but my female farmer OC, Mili, is basically a female himbo. I'd like to think that she doesn't really get all the passive aggressive jabs Leah makes to the farmer in the beginning of the game, and it makes Leah feel kinda bad abt it later on. As they grow more familiar with each other, I'd believe Mili's tenacious attitude eventually wears down Leah's defensive walls and she starts to grow fond of Mili and her lil' antics (much to Leah's own horror).

And since Mili is kinda airheaded but kind, she's easy to take advantage of, even if others don't exactly have any ill intentions. This would start to annoy Leah as she sees Mili running around helping everyone and their dog around town, and she starts to get kinda overprotective of Mili, and chastises her for never being able to say no to anyone (both farmer siblings are like this tbh). I kinda headcanon that Leah hates Scott bc 1. She's lowkey jealous that Mili and Scott hang out a lot in the mines (but she can't bring herself to go to there herself, its gross and dirty and also there's no reception) but mainly bc 2. She thinks Scott is absolutely full of shit with his museum that exists purely due to all the donations Mili makes to it, but he essentially takes all the credit for. Mili disagrees, but regardless, Leah and Scott don't get along.

After they start dating, Leah becomes an overprotective but proud gf who loves showing Mili off to her followers. The only thing is that she despairs over Mili's lack of fashion sense, esp since Mili's older sibling, Lu-Ran, is perfectly well-dressed themselves. So it becomes her hobby to dress Mili up in cute but practical clothes.

On Mili's end, she's just a simple girl with simple thoughts. Leah is a drop-dead gorgeous gf with a heart of gold (according to Mili, disagreed with by many others). She doesn't really get all the influencer stuff but she's supportive and likes to chat with Leah's followers on livestreams. She doesn't know that Leah's followers have basically formed a Mili Fan Club/Protection Squad.

I also like to think that Leah is a lifestyle influencer and environmental advocate. She donates the money made during livestreams and sponsorships towards environmental research and causes. My headcanon is that she's one of Ling's main sponsor (anonymous of course) for her coral research.

Overall, I'm a big fan of "opposites attract" tropes, so I am obsessed with my OC Mili and seeing how the relationship dynamic with Leah would work out. Mili would help Leah become more emotionally vulnerable and be less rigid, while Leah would be a solid rock in Mili's chaotic life who helps keep her grounded and remind her to take care of herself and not just others. Leah is a bit antisocial though, despite being an influencer, so being together with the social butterfly that Mili is would be quite interesting. With Mili as the bridge, Leah would eventually open up to other villagers too and become friends with Mili's friends too (other than Scott of course). From the get-go, Leah would get along very well with Mili's older sibling (my other farmer OC), Lu-Ran, as they're very down-to-earth, quiet and acceptably-dressed (to Leah's standards).

Anyways, if you actually read my word vomit, thank you for entertaining my 2am brain ramblings.

#cherry draws #coral island #coral island ocs #coral island farmer #coral island fanart #leah coral island #long post #character analysis #sorry I really got into dissecting this #yet I haven't even played Leah's route yet alds;jfad;kl #I wrote all this based on the limited knowledge I have of Leah from the game and knowing previews of Leah's heart events #I know she comes off as a shallow influencer kinda but based on her reactions to the in-game plots I rlly think she's one of the good ones #she's just kinda curt is all #and antisocial #she's pink but she's coded like an edgy goth boi

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chokchokk · 9 months

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2/2

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 [𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬] | choi san x fem!reader

PART THREE of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser

“Be mine tonight, Y/N.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: The hour is twisted. You’re not at a club, you’re not sober, but most importantly, you’re not with him. Will Seonghwa do? No, of course not.

But he leaves you no other chance.

“You’re so pathetic, it might actually be worth a try.”

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst, smut

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 2nd half of PART THREE

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 13.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): drug-use, drug abuse, alcohol, mdma (ecstasy, molly), vulgar language, just a lot of vulgarities and profanity, hate-fuck?, aggressive, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, sex with feelings but no love, sex with no respect, cumming inside; reader cant stop thinking about san, writer is a bit stoic, seonghwa is a hot bitch, hwa and writer are liars lmao

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: the border looks that ugly on purpose btw not that you think otherwise LMAO

on ao3, this chapter is called “insanity” and i can’t promise it will be the only seonghwa-centred part throughout the series, but do please enjoy for the filth and angst of it all hehe!! <33 if you're asking “does san even make an appearance here?” i won’t tell you :P i know it's intimidating since there's just about like 10k build-up (because i'm a bitch LMAO) so if u wanna skip just find the second border i guessssssss

also, i really recommend listening to KLOUD's ESCAPE HALLOWEEN set (it's a soundcloud link) or any other hard tekno for the whole immersive experience lmao !!! <33

and also, thank you all very much for 100 followers and over 1000 notes ! ! ! wtf it's all happening so fast i can't catch up with yall....

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @brown88 : @svintsandghosts: @hanniebeesworld : @downbadreading : @shingsoluvely (kissing all of yall <33)

Didn’t Seonghwa say “club” or are you being some conservative narc flaking out?

You’re standing in front of a white, slightly burnt industrial building that is barely holding on by itself, and taking into account how many people are smoking around here, the likeliness that it will catch on fire again is not too low. You can’t believe that you’re going to meet Seonghwa inside here, let alone San, let alone anyone with a healthy sense for flight or fight, but here you are, walking up to the line with confident steps.

Yes, it has made you very anxious that even the taxi-driver had no idea where he was heading. He promised to drive you back home if anything happened, so the taxi-hotline is on speed-dial— just in case— and you just thought, holy fuck, hopefully Seonghwa won't leave me alone here.

But once you’d seen the seemingly endless line of people, you knew you have arrived at the right place. Or at least something like the right place. It all seems off, this building in the middle of nowhere outside the city, but you told the driver the vague address and he found you this hidden ware- and clubhouse, both of you hesitating to confirm that this was the correct location.

Nothing here seems legal, smells legal, looks legal— oh well.

The only thing you can say with certainty is is that you are looking and smelling the best you have ever looked and smelled this entire semester, and even if you have no fucking clue who these people that are whistling at you are, you know you’ve done everything right tonight when they wave at you to join them. You just skipped a whole chunk of the line here, but nobody seems to mind it. What a democratic party, maybe it’s not all that foul play and people do appreciate good things, eh?

It’s not an exaggeration or empty self-boast: You, in your skin-tight, revealing black body-con dress, skin glowing under the harsh night-light, are absolutely ravishing. There are looks on you— uncountably many of them, and usually, you’d fold under their heavy gaze, but having taken a few shots of the cheap rum back at home, you reciprocate their curious eyes with a sleek, cheeky smile, down-right inviting them to bathe in your appearance.

While the group of people take in the presence of you, blurting out their first thoughts immediately upon thinking, your confidence only grows bigger. Thank god drunk people say the truth, because “damn, she’s hot” is the ego-boost you needed to face whatever awaits you in that cubic building.

“ARE YOU FUCKING READY?”, booms out of it and it seems like a voice sample that’s been altered that hellishly deep. The crowd outside cheers. They're not even a part of the shenanigans yet, but still, they’re screaming and already moving their body in anticipation, throwing funny looking candy (you’re very sure that’s molly) inside their mouths. They’re ready, but Y/N, are you? It is an honest question to ask yourself, and as you inhale the smell of people smoking the devil’s lettuce around you, you draw out how the night might progress for them.

You don’t know about San’s whereabouts, only that Seonghwa and him are going separately, which is a big plus if you want to fuck him today.

Uh-huh. Fuck Seonghwa. You’ve made it up in your mind because he just wouldn’t stop hinting at it in the car this morning. He is going to buy you drinks, going to show you his dancing, but most importantly, going to “make you enjoy yourself”, which of course, could just be wishful thinking from you iterating the conversation, but Seonghwa wouldn’t have bought the tickets for you for free if he wasn’t expecting some type of reward, would he?

At the minimum, the hinting painfully reminded you of the way you talked to San the very first days you first insinuated that he could stay over at your house and — oh, golly! — sleep there. Coming to think of it, your talk actually never worked, and it still ended up being San who made the first sexual move. You’re going to save Seonghwa from this embarrassment, and if not, you’re going to save yourself from your own embarrassment for if you do see San and his volleyball-“date” or whatever here.

Anyhow, at the maximum, you have a brain and are fully aware of the fact that people don’t “meet” at the club to just have a chat, whether it's him or San. People “meet” at the club to get crazy and fuck, and that’s exactly what you’re doing with Seonghwa — End of story. San is not going to write this chapter today. He won’t even end up in the epilogue, that’s how much you’re going to focus on Seonghwa. Go down. Get him on. Get on with him.

You bop your head a little bit to the deep bass that’s vibrating through the walls of the warehouse and the line is taking a painfully long time to move forward. You watch the people in your group chug down their self-mixed abominations and how they're throwing the remaining glass on the floor, whiffing their stimulants through their joints or gulping it down by tablets. Letting out a huff to exhale the sharp smell of weed, you try to become as detached as the ones around you, at the very least assimilate to their mood. You’re going to be with these people tonight, and just by putting one and one together, you get the feeling that it will be a long, ruthless evening. You can hear intoxicated screams leave the front door, the deep voice continuing to hype up their cheers.

It's all a hivemind of pure madness and … well, you're here for it, it seems like, no? Seonghwa is not going to be an exception, and you brace yourself to be meeting your date here.

Show you his dancing, he said…

You don’t know whether the DJ playing some extraordinary remixes or whatever to be deserving this much of screaming feedback, but it’s definitely music to get your mind lost to, you'll give this guy Mingi that; Splurging, ear-numbing beats and basses, inviting you to rock your body. You don’t hate the music, not at all. It just makes you question how Seonghwa was imagining to impress you. Here you are imagining body-rolls or whatnot, but this hard style techno isn't really the tune for that, is it? Okay, let's just say it's not music you'd turn on to get yourself into the mood on a Saturday night, that's what's there to it.

It’s ironical, really. Usually around this time you’d be fumbling around your phone on your couch to ask San if he’s free or not, and sometimes he is, but most of the time he’s not. Those days where he just comes over on your mark have been over long time. Now, he’ll either show up at your house unprecedented or ask you to show up at his house in an ungodly hour.

Huh, isn’t that one funny butterfly effect. You woke up early because of San's mistress and here you are, lining up to become Seonghwa's. Is this right? "I heard you were going to be at Mingi’s party. Meet me there." Even now, you’re trying to convince yourself that this contact name “volleyball” could be anyone, maybe even just a friend that is trying to link up at this not-so party-looking party. Hm, you think, would a friend text him so intimidatingly? San hates periods to end messages, it scares him. So no, not a friend. At least not a friend that knows him as much as you do. Someone he had a fight with, maybe? No, Choi San doesn’t have fights, he’s too avoidant of conflict for that. It has got to be someone that has once been close to him and a bit too close to your liking.

No, no, fuck no, let’s stop this, you murmur to yourself and wriggle down your dress so it covers your ass at least.

Fucking Seonghwa. That’s your one and only mission tonight, of course followed by having fun and getting all hell loose.

It will just be one night and it will either make you 1) want to stay with San, or 2) finally move on and agree that San is just a … friend with too many benefits. You have to convince yourself you’re not in love with San. You can’t be in love with San. Disregarding of how curious you are in meeting him here.

“Ticket,” the control-man orders around the people in front of you and you get out your phone out of your tiny bag for the ticket, when you see that Seonghwa has already messaged you.

Seonghwa (San’s roomie): I’ll be waiting at the bar for you by the way Seonghwa (San’s roomie): You have to walk up the stairs on the left when you enter Seonghwa (San's roomie): Excited to see you ;)

You have been guessing already that something was going to break tonight, but it might as well be those stairs Seonghwa is talking about. From the amount of people that are still waiting behind you, you hope that they’re not all trying to go the bar.

“Ticket, please,” the control-man repeats, but strangely enough, his tone is a bit friendlier to you for some reason. “Here you go,” you duplicate his kindliness and he nods, dropping his smile as soon as he moves on to the next guess. Strange.

You eye the buff guy, but the impatient crowd pushes you into the square door. In you go.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!”

Harsh red lights, laser and smoke hit your senses. (Though you can only be so sure that the last part is really planned for the show-experience.)

Maybe you underestimated the capabilities of a warehouse. It’s still not what you thought of when you heard "club", but it surely still gets your club-mind going. Ignoring the grimy looking walls that seem to crumble with every beat that’s drumming inside your ears, the pungent smell of cheap-ass perfume, artificial sweeteners and alcoholic beverages strike into your nose, blurring your sight for a short moment. There are no windows in this hell-hole, but that’s the concern for another hour.

This is only the beginning. So, let’s focus.

Left, stairs, go up, there’s the bar Seonghwa was messaging you about. It surprises you that you’re not being swarmed by more people trying to get drinks, but it makes sense, since so many of them have already drunk outside or taken other substances to get themselves prepared for the night. That’s the first thing.

Second thing; suprisingly, the stairs are actually kind of durable. You can physically feel the bass run through your veins as you grab the handrail, but maybe that’s just because of the cold metal. Nothing to worry about here, you exhale and make your way up.

Lastly, and most importantly, look at you, you’re smiling. That’s the biggest, best thing. The euphoria these people are screaming out is down-right infectious, isn’t it? Their daft, hypnotic cries are calling out to you on the dance floor, but you’re going to be there sooner or later, with the man that brought you here in the first place.

“Hey, Seonghwa.”

“Hey, Y/N, you—“

He was sitting on a barstool, admiring the flashing lights all throughout the warehouse through his sunglasses, when you put your hand on his barely clothed shoulder and make him turn around.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You grin. Of course Seonghwa wouldn’t disappoint with his reaction. He rips the sunglasses from his face immediately, gets up from his seat and embraces you with one arm, not daring to let one eye sway away from you, his tongue pushed to the surface of his mouth, as he suppresses his gleeful grin. He looks star-struck, the supernatural-looking lights surrounding him are only emphasising this sight. Otherworldly.

“Where have you been hiding that?”, he asks, commenting on your body as respectfully as he can. You know he can’t handle a lot of alcohol, so his marvel must be double the truth, right? Seonghwa isn’t a liar.

“I’ve not been hiding anything,” you scoff and Seonghwa laughs nervously.

“Y/N, you look… absolutely fantastic.”

“You don’t look to shabby yourself, Seonghwa,” you smile and muster the charcoal-haired man from bottom to top. It’s very out-of the ordinary, but honestly, you should have expected something like this after he invited you here. It goes without saying, you could have served him the same reaction to his outfit. The man who was wearing sportswear? He’s now wearing a black, nylon, baggy pant, with a distressed knitted top that barely serves as an excuse for clothing as it is not covering any of his body parts correctly— and even if you’d already gushed about his athletic figure this morning, you have not expected to be seeing Seonghwa’s abs and breast this exposed this early tonight. There is jewellery all around his outfit, just dangling from the fabric, but also his ear and hands, spiky and shiny, almost hazardous looking.

Damn, either you haven’t seen Seonghwa enough or this dude has been hiding more from you than you could account for. He looks as fashionable as much as he looks demonic, ready to sin with you, and that is the most meaningful compliment of the night.

“Thank you, I knew you’d like it.”

“Really? Me?”, you laugh, getting your hair out of your face, tugging it behind your ear.

“You have a strange taste,” Seonghwa smirks and while you puzzle together what he means, he signs something to the bartender with his ringed fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m ordering us shots. Keeping my first promise.”

“With sign-language?”

Seonghwa smirks and sits down again, you following him to the same.

"I'm a friend of Mingi's, they know me around, that's all."

"Y'all are weird."

“That’s just our ways here.”

“Your ways? You sound like some pretentious club-kid,” you nag.

“What if I am, huh? Are you gonna leave, if I was?”, Seonghwa teases and is served a tray of four shots, coloured a dangerously unnatural purple colour. He slides a 10-dollar bill onto the counter and the bar-keeper takes it with no words spoken out loud, which gives Seonghwa the time to devote all his attention to you. It’s flattering how astounded he is by you, as if he hasn’t seen you pretty ever in his life. But then again, you can only do so much styling and make-up when San calls you at 10 PM, asking you to “hurry”.

“We’ll see how the night progresses,” you smirk, and grab the first shot. Seonghwa also takes one and slightly raises the small cup.

“I won’t disappoint you.”

Sweet — the taste of the shot.

All types of fruits and harsh, cheap liquour plunge into your mouth and melt on your tongue. It’s going to make your head hurt the next day, one hundred percent, but maybe it will be Seonghwa to get you some pills to soothe the ache.

… If he wasn’t San’s god-damned roommate.

Or he could stay at your home. It’s been a while since another man than him has slept in your bed, and maybe it’s long overdue.

“Let’s hurry up, I wanna dance with you,” you gulp down the sugary liquid and Seonghwa chuckles.

“We’ve got enough time, Y/N. Let’s savour this one together.”

Sweet — The spark in his eyes, his flawless skin, perfectly plump lips— holy fucking shit. Seonghwa is fucking breathtaking.

“Y/N?”, Seonghwa asks and you see that he’s already moved on to the second shot, waiting for you to move on.

“I didn’t know you had that kind of sexy stare in you,” your alcohol blurts out for you and in the meanwhile, you grab the next shot glass.

“Sexy stare?”, Seonghwa asks and grins.

“Screw you! You know what I’m talking about,” you hiss and show him your tongue to offend him, but Seonghwa just tilts his head, raising the glass to your face.

“Loveshot?”, he asks and for a moment, you don’t know whether he’s joking or not. Maybe you’re just feeling weird because a male has said the word “love” in your proximity. (The only man in your life who's a candidate in hearing that word avoids it like a disease.)

“Only if you mean it,” you purr seductively, lick your lips, and praise to fucking god he’s taking the hint. Seonghwa leans in and crosses your arms around, the cold rim of his drink suddenly resting at your lip.

“That’s not how loveshots work,” you notify, but you still mirror him and place your glass under his lips.

“Do you care?”

“No.”

Seonghwa chuckles and with one movement of his hand, the second shot is flowing down your oesophagus. It’s cold, starkly contrasting the humid conditions in the warehouse, but it’s just enough to get your senses rolling again.

You don’t even care that you made Seonghwa miss half the drink, his alcohol tolerance will give him just the right kick from the first shot. Also he doesn’t protest at all, when you hop from your seat to finally get the evening going.

“Let’s go now!”, you order him around and he gladly obeys. “Lead the way,” he says, putting his hands on your shoulder, which he hopefully won't be able to keep there for long, as you both strut down the stairs and into the crowd.

The massive crowd is crazy, and it’s ever-growing.

“What is this place?”, you ask Seonghwa, as he’s being pushed against your back by the people on the way to the dancefloor and Seonghwa has the perfect opportunity to grab you by your hips to not lose you, but frustatingly enough, he doesn’t. His hands leave your shoulders and Seonghwa just tries to manoeuvre to you.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Seonghwa answers honestly and you look for a free place to roam and dance. People are trying to get as close to the DJ as possible, but once those are gone, there’s actually some space you can use— you just have to get there.

“You come here often?”, you ask, leaning backwards for your voice to hit his skin. You'll be hoarse by the end of the night.

“I’ve only went twice. San went to every single set of Mingi, though!”

“Really? San goes here frequently?”

“Yeah! Does that shock you?”

“Of course it does.” You stop, turn around and Seonghwa’s hands stay in place in his pants, as you talk to him. “This, all of this, doesn’t seem like San at all.”

“Hmm, I know what you’re getting at. But that’s just our boy, eh?”

You stare into his eyes and search for some type of playfulness, but Seonghwa means his words. This is where San roams— is roaming right now, maybe— and it, all of it, just fucking confuses you. This is not the "party" you would have expected to see that man in, and if that wasn't bad enough, he's apparently a regular. You hope you’re not pushing some kind of innocent image onto him, but despite the alcohol that's heating up your cheeks and making you dumber every talking second, you’re seriously puzzled. That he’s never invited you is questionable already, but is “that San for you”? You don't know.

Wiggling your hips, you try to retrace history to the very moment you had met shy little San at the seminar, up until now, where he’s grown three times his size and you feel like he's some type of fucking mystery that is impossible for you to solve. Nerd? Hopeless romantic? Hard to get? Playboy? San may act like he’s open-minded, but he’s the most secretive guy you’ve seen. Not like Seonghwa, who, mind you, is still looking at you with the most intense fuck-me eyes, that it’s actually eating you up.

“Let’s stop talking about San.”

“Why?”, Seonghwa asks, obliviously, eyes turning back to normal.

“Because it’s us here! You and I, Seonghwa and Y/N. If they drank a loveshot together, they should act like it, don't ya think, huh?” you grunt, already slurring your words. You start to move your body according to the heavy beat, tits jerking out to the front, arms waving like they have a life on their own. Seonghwa smiles and accordingly begins to step his feet where yours aren’t; your bodies are annoyingly close, but still not touching at all.

“How do you mean that, Y/N?”, he asks and you slap his revealed shoulder with the back of your hand to stop his teasing. “I thought you wanted to show me your dancing, Seonghwa!”, you whine and he laughs at your comment.

But Seonghwa doesn’t say anything after that, which gets on your nerves even more and in response, you turn your body slightly away while swaying your hips from side to side.

“You know what you said,” you hiss and he probably can’t hear you because the DJ is transitioning to a track with even more bass penetrating your ears.

You scurry your body to the beat and catch the gaze of someone in the crowd, who’s noticed you for the same reasons Seonghwa can’t keep his eyes away from you. The stranger is drilling his gaze up and down your chiselled body, licking his lips. Feeling playful, you make a suggestive expression towards him in return of the attention, winking at him. The male immediately makes his way to you.

"You do molly?”, he asks into your ear and you see that he’s got two skittles with cartoonish hearts and smileys drawn on them. That’s Adam. You never did him before, but you surely have heard of him, your friends have had him, your friends have loved him, your friends had painful break-ups with him. Merciless adam, MDMA.

You look back at Seonghwa who’s still dancing next to you, acting like he's not watching this whole situation go down, putting on his sunglasses again, and pushing it up his nose bridge. It sucks. His skin under the top is teasing you to look at it, and it feels so unusual to be longing for him, like you can't comprehend he's not... the other one.

So, though you do hesitate for a short second, you take two of the heart-painted ones and smile at the stranger, who sounds rotten from inside out, voice raspy and hoarse.

“Are you alone?”, he asks into your ear and while you think of answer, you muster Seonghwa, whose eyes you cannot track anymore, since the black cubic shades are hiding his prettiest possession. Is he still looking at you? Watching the sky? Who knows. Only he knows.

“Maybe?”, you answer and rotate your head to the stranger’s direction. You don’t care for this man, not at all, but what you do care for is Seonghwa’s reaction. Bouncing your ass up and down against the stranger's baggy jeans like the grand girl you are, he gets his hand at your waist and tries to pull you over his place, but, there he is, Seonghwa to come save the night.

“Fuck off, she's taken.”

He pushes the male away with his elbow and the grip immediately loosens up. “Hey, hey, dude, don’t hit me. Sorry, dude.” Seonghwa is visibly taller than him, and apparently that’s enough for the poor guy to get intimidated by his sunglassed face and disappear into the crowd with quick feet.

“YOU WANNA PLAY?”, the artificially deepened voice echoes through the warehouse and you stare into what you can make out from Seonghwa’s eyes with an earnest frown. You’ve felt unnecessarily angsty and frustrated the whole day since you saw that message on San’s phone, and this is the guy who’s going to hold responsibility for it, better with his whole fucking devotion now.

“What was that?”, you tease Seonghwa, who’s finally getting his hands out of his pockets and pulling you closer to him by your wrist. You can’t exactly read his expression since he’s covered his face still, but that actually makes it feel a lot better. There's something off about him, like Seonghwa is a stranger, like you’re not doing it for him, but rather… yourself. You're doing this because it makes you feel good, not the other way around. That's empowering.

“Whatever you want it to be, Y/N.”

“Stop tip-toeing around it! Are you going to fuck me or not? ‘Cause there’s more of those guys everywhere here,” your alcohol spits again and Seonghwa pants.

“Well, shit,” he laughs and finally glides into your waist with his arms. “That was direct.”

“I can flirt with you, but not under these fucking conditions,” you growl, intoxicated, recycling gritty air in your lungs, moving your sticky body to the beat and occasionally grinding against Seonghwa’s lower body with your legs from the front. "I can flirt and fuck you," he hums and frames his hands around your hips, connecting himself to you.

“Do you do molly, Seonghwa?”, you grin, the two pills waiting to be popped in inside your hand.

Seonghwa takes a look at the capsules, and you wait for his answer, as he appears to investigate them. Does he know what he's looking for? Apparently yes, as he pushes up his sunglasses and rubs the corners of his lips with two of his fingers, “Gimme.”

He picks it up from your flattened hand, and you would’ve loved to share it like a love-shot again, but before you could request it, Seonghwa has gulped it down. Not his first rodeo, you assume, and follow his suit.

Good thing that your throat hasn't dried out yet and the pill glides down your throat with your saliva. It's not going to take long until the jubilation of the alcohol you've consumed meets the ecstatic effect of molly, and you bite your lip with a grin. "Never thought I'd be doing drugs with you, Seonghwa," you purr and Seonghwa shrugs with a huff, “I thought you’d never even consider it.” Seonghwa exhales in the heat of it all, pulling you closer.

“What? Because of San?”

“Of course because of San,” Seonghwa cackles and puts his pointy chin in between the space of your collarbone and neck, so that his voice is hitting the spot of your hickey. “You know he’s here somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, but the probability that we’ll see him is like zero, so that’s not my concern.”

“You’d be concerned if he saw us, though?”, Seonghwa asks, loose-tongued, murmuring against your neck. He’s definitely fully gotten drunk, his body heavily weighing into yours, as he gets one arm up and around your head; his hand is tangled into your scalp without a caution of messing up your hairstyle. You finding out what the molly will do to him is only a matter of time.

“Are you asking if I’m committed to him?”

Seonghwa licks his lips, “accidentally” getting your skin with his tongue. It takes you aback a bit and you whine, your eyes dozing off for a short moment. You can still taste the remains of the shot at the back of your cheeks and it's the only thing you can sense correctly. Everything else is either fogged or slowly disappearing, or becoming even harsher like the red laser lights that you fear are going to pierce through you.

“No, I’m not asking whether you’re committed,” Seonghwa answers, leaning into your skin even more, “I know you guys aren’t in a relationship. Or, you know, at least he isn’t committed.”

“WANNA GET NASTY?”

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Even when you’re feeling very seduced because he is trying to get the same moaning reaction out of you by licking your sensitive spot and it’s working, you don’t want to be reminded that San doesn’t care for you as much as you do for him. Sure, that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re not the one living in the same space as San, Seonghwa is.

“Huh? Does he sleep with a lot of women?”, you ask him out of morbid curiosity, acting tough, as Seonghwa works deeper into your neck, getting the skin to soften for him.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Fuck you! Don’t protect me!”

“Ask him yourself,” he lisps, his sharp tongue grazing against your hickey, teasing your pettiness.

“I deserve to know.”

Seonghwa is the one rolling his eyes now, sighing, “You can be such an annoying brat, Y/N. How does San keep up with you?”

You try to yank your head back to show your discontent with his choice of words, but Seonghwa has you deep in his grip and puts you in place.

“You were the one who didn’t want to talk about San,” he lulls into your ear, stroking your hair to calm you down. Sure, that sounds reasonable, but still not an excuse to call you an “annoying brat”.

You take a wild guess about why Seonghwa isn’t just giving you the answer and argue, “I can still be curious, can’t I? San is not committed, you say? Why? Does he get more bitches than you?”

“He tried to get back with his ex.”

Bingo!

Wait, no. What the fuck?

“Huh, when?”, you ask, and irritatingly enough, Seonghwa has begun biting and licking into your neck at the one spot you can’t stop exhaling sweet noises for him. “Seonghwa, you better fuu-huucking answer.”

“Yesterday,” he murmurs against your skin and ding, ding, ding; things make a lot of sense now.

“No, you’re kidding,” you scoff, and push him away with all your strength. With a numbed mind, Seonghwa tumbles back and laughs, “Hey, it’s no big deal, he called you immediately after it didn’t work out.“

“Seonghwa, are you listening to yourself?”

“WANNA GET FUCKING CRAZY?”

“I’m saying it all like it happened, Y/N. San tried to win her back by inviting her to an expensive dinner, but then she flunked out right in the end, when he invited her back home. And, when he came home alone with a boner, San contacted you.”

“You're lying. Don't lie, Seonghwa, lying is a sin," your splur, but once his words have met your brain, it all just becomes chaos inside. It feels like marbles are rolling down inside your head and nothing is making sense, it’s all going nowhere and everywhere with this information. What are you supposed to feel like? Betrayed? There has never been a promise. Sad? You were going to fuck Seonghwa, you're not the most truthful, either.

“Come on, Y/N. You knew it the second San slammed you against that wall at 11 PM, didn’t you?” Seonghwa glides his thumb over your neck and grins, confirming the evidence of yesterday’s night. The roughful sucking of San could barely be covered up by concealer, and you probably sweated it away already.

“He— he said he was stressed.”

“Because of uni? Don’t lie to yourself, Y/N~”, the male purrs. Amidst of it all, Seonghwa is strangely still moving his body calculated to the beat, hitting each one of the drums with his shoulders, all while he hushes behind you to brainwash you with a whiskery voice. “It’s still San we’re talking about.”

You huff perplexedly and are too flabbergasted by his harsh words to not be affected by Seonghwa’s talking and let him hug you tightly again. He’s almost putting you into a headlock of consolation, or something that would have been great if it had been, indeed, consolation. (It is not. He’s almost choking you with his forearm and the way his hand is pushing into your scalp, nothing about this position is in any way soothing.)

“Tell me something, Seonghwa,” you gutter, since the thought has been recoiling rounds in your head forever and curiosity will always kill the cat. “… is she from his volleyball team?”

“No,” he answers and for some reason, this is a lot worse, “she isn’t, but— wait, how do you know about the girl from his volleyball team?”

You don’t answer. For the sake of your heart, you do not answer. You’re still moving, but you’re moving silently, staring into the humorously wild lasers that are teasing you just like he is.

Seonghwa gasps and cups your chin, his thumb meeting your lip, mushing the lower half of your face, trying to turn your face towards his direction, but you resist him. But who are you fooling. Seonghwa doesn't even need to see your expression to ask you, in an almost utterly disappointed whiny tone, "Nooo, Y/N, do you seriously check his phone?”

“I’m gonna punch you in your pretty fuck-face if you keep whining like that, Hwa.”

“Feisty and flattering, and a new nickname too! It must be my birthday,” Seonghwa chuckles and suddenly begins to nibble your earlobe, warm breath from his nose hitting the skin as he pants throughout his dancing. The alcohol is boiling inside you, being churned by the molly, and the crushing disillusionment is slowly into flaming, enraging, hateful desire. It has all gotta go somewhere, and for now, all you can do it talk with this scorching tone that is only going to turn into even more fuming, “How long has San been pining for his fucking ex?”

“For as long as I can remember," Seonghwa answers, seemingly not aware of the severity of this situation, "Middle of the second semester? Exam-season?”

“Nooo,” you scoff and can’t believe what you’re hearing. You don’t even need to calculate what time Seonghwa is talking about, it is engraved deeply into your memories. The same fucking exam season, when you were seeing San every afternoon and evening. You were right fucking there. He knew— you, on the other hand, not so much.

But you should have known.

“Well, yeah,” Seonghwa grins and is running his hands low to your stomach, almost touching your pelvis to get you worked up even more.

Should have known that you weren’t supposed to fall for San.

Angel faces hide the guts of devils’, and right now, your insides are over-cooking with the question "what the fuck were you thinking?" That he’d come around? Like no man in your life has ever come around? That San was the one? No, that San was going to believe that you were the one? 'Well, yeah', he should have, because you are the fucking one. You did so much for him, you could have done so much more for him, and it frustrates you.

“What are you grinning for, you motherfucker?”, you ask, as you peek over and see that Seonghwa has lowered his sunglasses and staring into your empty eyes, searching for a sign of life. You asked, but you don't really need the answer, the picture is drawn perfectly in front of you. Seonghwa is smirking for the same reasons he’s telling you all of this; it’s pretty clear.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he chuckles, having become more than ‘a bit cocky’ with you, “unlike San. He hates that, right? He’s so weak-hearted, how can he—“

“You’re his friend, Seonghwa,” you insist and grit your teeth, pushing up his sunglasses again with your two fingers, poking into the middle of the lens to make it greasy.

“Friends can say things about each other!”, he giggles gullibly, and scrunches his face together.

All you can say is that Seonghwa sounds and looks moronic in those square sunglasses, senseless and boozed out of his mind, but in the short moment he licks his sharp canine teeth, you suppose that this is exactly how you need him to be.

“You listen to everything, don’t you?”, you ask him, giving into his touch, pushing your back profile so close to him, that there is no touchable space left between you two. Ass pressed against his pelvic area, you breathe heavily into his face that’s glued to your temple. “Every single night I come over to fuck your roommate?”

“Noise-cancelling can only do so much, and your sound is addicting,” Seonghwa pouts— babbling his truths like it’s water falling out of his mouth— and when you see his pink lip shine under the flashing lights, your mind disorients. He is still the pretty boy that says pretty words, even when he's probably faking all of it; he is getting your insides all fuzzy, and you are still being lured in by him, but not for the reasons Seonghwa would enjoy them to.

You’re chasing the feeling of his comfort and you know it. You’re chasing after the man that won’t leave you alone. Or no, you are alone— so fucking lonely because of him even— but you don’t want to be alone, you don’t want him to leave you alone.

San.

Fuck. San.

The feeling of drowning in San’s praise, in his words, inside his bedroom, muffled by his sheets, it hunts you, it makes you feel watched, and it makes you feel like you’re hungry for something you can’t digest. Every word he has said to you is written in your memories in special font, and even though he is out of sight, San will always stay in your mind. Does he do it on purpose? Leave marks, with both words and his lips? To profit off of your yearning? To make himself feel better? To own something? To feel proud? Does he say it that loud on purpose, too? To make his roommate hear him? To make his roommate feel bad in order to feel good?

Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe San doesn't know Seonghwa is listening at all, maybe he doesn't care about any of it.

"Your pretty sounds," Seonghwa repeats himself, his face pressed against your cheek and you roll your eyes at his lips grazing your skin, his heavy breath from his nose warming it up.

These two men are woven by the same needle, knitted with the same material for they say surprisingly similar things and act surprisingly same, but for some reason, it does not feel the same. It is not the same. It should be the same. It should be the fucking same, fuck! You’re going to explode. The way that your head is spinning, your hips swinging, music ringing— people screeching, feet stomping— everything is happening around and inside you. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, livid. Brain, guts, uterus, livid. Let’s not talk about your heart or else we have to start over again. Just forget about your heart and think about the things that are of use tonight. What can you focus on? You can focus on your body glowing hot, but you could also focus on Seonghwa, whose baggy pants is rubbing against your thin minidress. It’s Seonghwa that you wanted, right? Or was it Seonghwa you were supposed to want, because he is the one that wants you back? — No, fuck, let's re-roll, quickly; Seonghwa is grinding against you right now, from behind, and that's exactly what you imagined, wasn't it? Under these lights, under this influence, this is what you wanted, wasn't it?

With the state of your mind, you can not agree with anything; your thoughts sound foreign and it's not your voice speaking, when you grind your ass back. It also doesn't feel like it's your eyes that you're seeing with; Seonghwa’s smile behind of you is becoming blurry and there’s just one more face that’s slowly appearing from the front-ends of your head. There’s a catch though; what you’re seeing is not the soft face you usually cup with your delicate hands and observe in awe when he sleeps, it’s not the face that lights up when he sees you enter through his front door, it's a face that's reading a text message from his fucking ex in the morning and immediately forgets that you're next to him, available as available can be.

It is actually going to make you puke, right here and there. All your emotions, all your ambitions, all of your fucking dreams. Who is San to you? What is he? You’ve known him for what, a year? — Okay fuck, that’s actually more than you thought, but still, it’s not like San and you have met up in any way that wasn’t purely sexual during all the time you knew him. Know him. You don’t know San. You don’t know shit about him. What are you— San and you? What are you going to be? Boyfriend, girlfriend? Has a nice ring to it, but fuck no, right? There are too many girls, right? Which is why you wanted to get yourself another man too, right?

“Come on, Y/N, forget him.”

While you have alcohol and molly inside you, singing two different songs of lust and desire, Seonghwa is moving his legs according to yours and pressing himself more against you. He’s one sadistic dipshit if Seonghwa thinks you could forget any of what you just went through just by moaning into your ear, but you're going with it.

You can't feel a lot right now, except that Seonghwa’s bulge perfectly fits in the space of your ass, rubbing up and down between the two circular shapes, getting himself more erected with every passing beat.

This whole situation is so fucked up and messy.

But, add one more: You are fucked up and messy. The music is building up loudly and people are shaking their bodies next to you, dancing in the high they've reached long time ago, eyes having lost any sign of concentration or sobriety, and you came here to contemplate whether you’re going to have a one-night-stand to prove a point, mixing drugs to get it on faster. You feel quicker, no, you are quick, rushing from one thought to another like you’re fleeing from your inner voices, both the devil and angel. They’re useless in this situation, they have too much reason.

And you don't need any reasons to think you're in the right to fuck him. Seonghwa’s hands are on your abdomen and gently massaging the skin, making you feel like he thinks you’re valuable, but you both know that this dance you’re holding right now barely cost you anything but 10 dollars in cash.

The red lasers haven’t stopped. They are pointing upwards or downwards for you, but you guess, from the way you’re watching Seonghwa’s lips right now, there’s only one way down. There has always been only one way down.

San chooses an ex over you? Then you’ll choose his dumb fucking roommate over him. Two can play this game, and even if he’s had the lead, you’re going to make your play. Is it going to hurt him? You don’t know. Maybe it won’t. But at least it will be over, right? At least this fucking thing will be over.

“Kiss me, Seonghwa.”

“You serious? I thought San was all up your mind right now.”

“Oh my fucking god, just do it before I take it back.”

“LET’S GET FUCKING INSANE”

Seonghwa doesn’t let you ask twice. While people all around you are turning up to the beat-drop, he pulls your chin up and clashes his lips against yours. His teeth clank against you lip and there's a short, piercing pain there, but Seonghwa's high chuckle blows it away. It’s a violent kiss, but mind-numbing enough so maybe you can forget why you decided to kiss him in the first place. While your lips are working against each other, his hand is sliding down to your groin and it's dangerously close to the seam of your tiny dress. One tug and your whole leg is revealed to the crowd, but you don't look down to see how naked Seonghwa is making you; all you see is yourself, in the reflection of his square sunglasses.

His tongue is electrifying, when it forces its entry into your mouth. It’s long and tastes deliciously foreign- a mixture of alcohol and tobacco, which you haven't experienced in pair since a long time. San, no, “he” (this is what you’ll call him now) doesn’t smoke, which at first, you considered as a big win, because you were passively inhaling all the smoke from your prior flings that you’d had the feeling your lungs were being polluted. Yet a year later, you’re clean— cleaner than never before, you should be able to breathe, you should be able to think clearly, but you can’t. Did you think he was pure? Was it that? That he was this untouched man? Maybe he was. Maybe he was, when he was still a nerd who had never heard a woman say the word “sex” in his— or had he? Fuck, had he? You don’t know, you couldn’t have known. ‘He’ was a façade, wasn’t it? He turned into another person immediately, didn’t he?

Let's get back on Seonghwa’s lips.

You're reminded of your lost freedom and as much it drives you insane, it's driving you into a state of pure, adventurous lust. The way Seonghwa works across your slick tongue is animalistic and wild, and you feel like you’re being pursued with no escape. To catch your breaths a little bit, Seonghwa lets go off your chin and thigh, turning you around so he can have better access to your mouth. Not letting the enlivening music go to waste, he presses his lips on yours the second you inhaled for the second time.

You slip your hands under his knitted top, running them up and down his breast, his abs and abdomen to feel his muscles and skin. It’s only a matter of time until he asks you to move off the dance floor, but your alcohol is bombarding you with sweet suggestions you can’t let pass without saying. His exposed skin feels cold under your fingers, but when you cup his hardened erection through the fabric with your hand and move it according to Seonghwa’s tongue slicking against yours, he radiates heat.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa pants into the kiss and you hum, continuing to tease him on this godless dance floor. Nobody has their senses right and is observing you two making out with dozy eyes, nobody cares about anything here. There’s only right now, the song the DJ is playing for the mindless crowd of drugged, intoxicated people. Let’s get insane.

You try to get a good feel of Seonghwa’s cock and its girth with your hand. “You’re big,” you murmur, catching air again, “smaller than San though.”

And there you have it, men are so easy to galvanize.

“Say that again, you fucking cunt,” Seonghwa growls and digs his fingers into your ass, eyebrows pulled down so hard that his forehead could explode.

“Why? ‘Cause you’re better than him?”, you taunt him and click with your tongue, catching a breath. “You’re no better than Sannie,” you sneer, pointing at your hickey with your finger to remind him (but mostly yourself), “don’t think you could be.”

Seonghwa goes fucking angry. Apparently he thinks he’s done so much for you, has been so nice to you, has helped you, whatever, and this is how you show him your thanks. Grabbing your hair, he pushes his forehead against yours and you catch a glimpse of his darkened eyes, feeling the stinging pain from the impact linger, while he talks. His breath is scarce from having kissed you, so he’s trying his best to use his voice to taunt you.

"San is probably fucking his fucking ex-girlfriend right now, do you think you're any better than him, huh, slut? You are the one who's so fucking desperate to get him to love you, and you're still here with me, and you're kissing me, so we're both in the wrong, you fucking whore."

His words don’t mean anything to you, visiting the synapses of your brain, but leaving right after. You just grin with your eyelids covering half of your eye and Seonghwa realizes nothing is arriving inside your sweet, broken mind. Your cheeks are red from the lack of oxygen, drugs and you’re flushed at the cause of his libidinous touch, and Seonghwa sees he's been working around your hair a little bit too much, having ruffled it up to the point that a comb-through will not amount to a lot. You look like a crazy person to him, but nothing attracts a joke more than a hard-hitting punchline.

“We're both single,” is what you lull to correct him, licking over your lips that you can't feel anymore since Seonghwa has kissed them numb. "And I think that's all that matters."

You both hear the music come to an exhilarating high and slowly reach your evaporating point.

“You sound like San,” Seonghwa giggles and he probably thinks it's going to push you over, but it doesn't. He’s still staring into you like he’s searching for a weak spot, but you’re persistent, you’re needy, and while you are weak, you are unforgivably yourself, Y/N.

You smash both your hands on each of his cheeks and you look at yourself through the sunglasses, sneering, "Good. San is a better name to moan."

He scoffs and smiles so condescendingly sweet again, but out of his mouth comes nothing worthwhile. "I'm going to fuck your voice out of your fucking throat, you're never going to moan ‘San’ ever fucking again," he growls and you drench yourself in his vulgarity, kissing him repeatedly.

"Never again," Seonghwa repeats himself, digging his thumbs into your ribs, but his tone isn't as forcing as it is... begging. Asking—demanding you to put all your attention on him, like he knows your heart isn't his and he desperately wants to possess yours. Oh, he definitely knows. You're not fooling anybody, at least didn't try to, but Seonghwa is gullible enough to fall for your tricks, how it seems like. San is painted on your body all the while your dance partner is speaking through his heavy breathing; painted on your neck, in your eyes, it’s annoying Seonghwa, it distracts him, it makes him see red, and not the colour on your skin.

"Awww, do you want me to only moan your name tonight?", you baby Seonghwa, mocking that he's finally revealed his motivations behind all of this. At least you think you've hit the nail in the coffin, when you pout to mirror Seonghwa’s expression.

Seonghwa's greatest sin isn't lust, it's envy. It could be any girl coming and leaving their dorm, moaning San’s name through the thin walls, never to be seen again and he wouldn't bat a second eye, but you— Y/N? San letting a woman like you go without further notice sickens him, like a crime, like a mistake. To hear your voice be pleasured by San at night, and then hear you sing good-bye to the man who does not care as much as he does in the morning, that has sent Seonghwa into a spiral of jealousy, but you’re not sure why. Some fucked-up reason probably, though it doesn’t seem like an ex is the cause this time. Maybe it’s really just because of you.

Sorry to say that you don’t care about that though. Not one single fucking bit. You don't want any of that complex trauma-talk tonight. You want to have sex and forget the sex right after.

"Be mine tonight, Y/N," Seonghwa answers and his eyebrows are pushed in to his forehead. He looks sultry, at least the parts you can see. Sultry, passionate, ready to fuck you, no, desperate to fuck you, in fact, you can feel the pre-cum soak his pants, when you cup his girth.

“You’re so pathetic,” you smirk, “it might actually be worth a try.” Seonghwa lets out a breathy exhale, finally breaking. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the molly, or his issues that suddenly took over his conscience, but he doesn’t have any of that left. He grabs you by your wrist with a grip that leaves a white mark, and without forewarning, Seonghwa yanks you through the people.

You hit each and every one of the strangers on your way to wherever. Shoulder hitting against shoulder, breast against breast, it better not leave any more bruising that you already have on your neck. “Seong- wha!”, you wheeze, tumbling at his force, tripping over your own feet over and over. The hall is huge, and he’s seemingly seeking to get to the very end of it.

“Seonghwa!”, you repeat yourself, but he won't listen to you. You're being pulled into a rollercoaster of anything but emotions (at least for you) and you can hear laughter leave your mouth without reason as you pass by irritated people who find it impolite to be barging into the big crowd like this. This dude's crazy, they scorn, but they don't really look that lucid as well, you find, with the last bits of thinking you can do.

"Where are we going?", you ask, but mostly to reassure that you still have a sense for geographical knowledge. You can see the bar again, mobs of people dancing on the stairs so that it's shaking even more compared to how you two had left it, but most importantly, you see that this is a space that's occupied by your kind. So much skin. So many slutty outfits. Outfits? Lingerie. This side looks like a fucking strip-club. Are you at a strip-club? What the fuck is this place? No, seriously, what the fuck is this place?

Seonghwa is finally stopping and you catch a breath from the running. With him doing his weird hand-signs again, you recognize the security guard from the beginning, smiling under his sunglasses, showing an "OK"-sign and pointing to the back of the stairs. You could swear he winked at you.

"What the fuck?", you ask, but Seonghwa only shrugs, making you follow his backwards steps under the stairs, where in black graffiti 'MY PEOPLE DONT BELIEVE IN LOVE' is smeared all over the wall. The same walls are occupied by couples or at least people making out wildly with their eyeliners smeared beyond repair. Is this some sex-area? (No idea) Is this legal? (100% no) Does Seonghwa look so fucking hot without his top on? (Fuck) He does.

Your eyes go cross-eyed, when Seonghwa enters the most mirrored bathroom you've ever seen in a warehouse, but before you can question the fact why people invest in decorating a fucking porta-potty, the male is pulling off his knitted top with one smooth pull, barely waiting a second for you to close the door behind you. The vibrations of the music ring on the metal stairs over you, and you feel like the beat is mushing your brain one size smaller, when you're met by Seonghwa barging at your body.

Pushing you against the plastic door, you feel all of Seonghwa's naked torso with your hands stroking roughly over his skin, and you admire his jewellery sitting on his collarbones, getting your fingers at it around his neck to pull him closer. "You like my necklace?", Seonghwa murmurs, as he pushes his lips into the crook of your neck.

"Choke on it," you gutter and yank him upwards, kissing him. While you do so and Seonghwa begins to unclothe you by getting your arms up, you catch a glimpse of yourself through the mirror. Your hair isn't looking as silky as it did when you left your home, there's mascara smudged around your eye already, but if you're not mistaken, and you can see it by how Seonghwa is sucking your nipples the second your bra falls to the floor, you will look worse in no time.

But that's not to say that you aren't still looking gorgeous. You look bewitchingly sexy, eyelids fluttering with each of Seonghwa's eager touches that are tracing down your body. "Fuck, you look so good," he murmurs and he's trying to keep his eyes open in order to see you. He's gotten you naked pretty quick considering the circumstance, you would've wished for a bit more foreplay here, but maybe it's a reoccuring theme to be impatient.

"You are such a fucking gorgeous girl, San doesn't know what he's missing right now," Seonghwa wheezes and goes through his hair, once he has your dress dropping on the dirty floor, revealing your joke of underwear. If he had kept your bra, he would have seen that you've worn a matching set of burgundy lingerie, but Seonghwa's mouth is still drooling at your pair of perfect thighs, his hand stroking over his lips. You roll your eyes at him and lean your head against the plastic door. You've done such a good job forgetting his name, and here's this dumbass mentioning him again. "You bet your ass he's missing this, huh?", you snarl and play with your own breast with one hand, while the other is cupping Seonghwa's rib, gliding down to his v-line, where his throbbing cock is awaiting you.

"He doesn't deserve you, Y/N."

He wheezes again. It seems like Seonghwa is taking his last breaths, unable to form words since your fingers are exploring how quick they can get to his erection.

"And you do?", you snap back and scoff. He pushes his glasses up to his forehead and for the first time since a long time, you can see Seonghwa's eyes shimmer. Oh fuck, you think, and it's difficult to not kiss him again. You're a bitch. You know you're a bitch for not caring about his feelings, and you know you will indeed not be better than San if you ghost this man right after this evening, but it must be done. For your sake, at least.

"I do," Seonghwa answers, though a lot weaker and less confident than he used to be before. You sigh. He may think he deserves you, but you don't deserve him. His gaze is too sweet, you've got to put those sunglasses back on, if you don't want to develop something. The only thing you can look at to get your mind elsewhere is yourself, in the mirror.

"Don't try to prove yourself," you murmur and Seonghwa wraps his arms around your back and props you by your thigh to lift you up. You can see his back muscle tense up, as he has you steadily in his grip. "I'm not," he answers and there's something that's fluttering inside your breast, when Seonghwa licks up your jawline, because you feel everything; From how wet his tongue is, how warm his saliva sits on your skin to the way what an adoring look Seonghwa is wearing on his face, as he kisses you. "I got nothing to prove to you."

You smirk and see yourself looking very dozy, drunken on alcohol, drugged by MDMA, ducked by Seonghwa's hand between your legs. It's pushing between your folds and with your last bit of control you have over your body, you spread your legs for him, inviting him to get his fingers inside your panties, and of course he does.

With a grin, Seonghwa devotes his tongue to your jaw again and works it into your skin with circular motion. "So fucking wet, and I thought you didn't want to fuck me."

"Who said I wasn't going to fuck you?"

Seonghwa is too busy sucking on the other side of your neck (other side meaning the side that is still unhickey-ed) to answer, but you're persistent. You came to this place to fuck him, and you're pretty sure that nothing from what you told him tonight alluded to something else. And also, even when you're fucked out of your mind, you still have a sense for people who keep secrets. So while Seonghwa is sucking small patches of skin on your neck and you see yourself with an opened mouth with sighs leaving it that you can't hear with your own ears.

"San says things sometimes," Seonghwa murmurs and continues to plant roses on your neck that you can see appear on your skin, "but that's irrelevant now."

"What does he say?", you insist, but the charcoal-haired man puts on his sunglasses again and shakes his head. Switch. As if you hadn't had enough from men who were two-faced, Seonghwa hides his eyes, turning into an inscrutable being again. A stranger. A stranger who's groping your cunt from the front, making your groin tense up and push him closer from the back. You're wrapping him with your legs and holding onto him tightly, when he catches a breath.

"Meaningless things,” he pants and throws you over the door, your arms landing on the frail sink in front of you. The mirror expands and all of the sudden you see yourself in full quality, in all your glory and Seonghwa is only supporting you from the back. His hand is grabbing your chin and pushing it up to the mirror, his pointing finger smudging your lip. With your lips slightly opened, it just makes sense to you to lick around his finger and look at him with a demanding look, eyebrows sultrily pushed together.

"Fuck, Y/N," Seonghwa gulps and cups your breast from behind, massaging it, while he presses his hot lips on your back. "Can I eat you out? Please,” he sighs and you take his finger in, lubing it up with your saliva.

"Do whatever you fucking want," you sneer and balance yourself with two hands on the sink, as Seonghwa raises a leg and throws it over his shoulder, his pretty face planted into your pussy the second you've given him permission to. You spasm to the front, Seonghwa's hair tickling your lower abdomen, as he works his tongue over your slick folds. If his tongue was great for kissing, it's certainly great for cunnilingus too, no, maybe even better suited for it. He's reaching spots that haven't been reached by a tongue in a long time and with the wet muscle working in and out inside you, you're becoming a moaning mess with fluttering eyelids in no time.

"Fuuuck", you gasp, when Seonghwa kneads your ass that's extended out in the air. The sound of his slurping and the music outside assimilate and mix up, and if it wasn't for the hightened senses you got from your molly-influence, it feels like everything is hammering you down from the outside. You can feel each twitch of Seonghwa's mouth, how he smiles, how he's yelping for air, how he's licking over his lips — you're going to fall somewhere, and if it's not into the cheap sink and the mirror that's taunting you, it's in love with his tongue that’s going to make you cum.

"So soon?", Seonghwa murmurs, and two fingers begin to penetrate your gaping hole, as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive clit.

"Fuck, fuck!", you whine and Seonghwa takes note of how your entrance is tightening around him, angling his fingers towards your g-spot. "So fucking good!", you breathe and you're trying to get a glimpse of your mirrored image in front of you, but your eyes are rolling to the back of your head too much.

"Mhm~", Seonghwa hums with an amused tone, repeating a cycle of sucking and licking, pumping against your g-spot. You're flying, the loud tunes bombarding the walls of the porta-potty are slowly getting to your head and intrusing what's left of your conscious mind, only feeling the tickling sensation that is being eaten out by none other than Park Seonghwa.

Until it stops.

You were whining, announcing your impending orgasm, but he apparently had other ideas, pulling out his fingers and removing his lips from you the second you were drawing together your body, preparing for sweet release. "Don't fucking stop!", you yell and grab Seonghwa by his hair, pushing him closer to your cunt by force. "Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa, who you don't know if he seriously just wanted to be called by his name in this situation, chuckles in witticism and wraps his arm around your thigh, getting the other leg over his shoulder too. You're sitting up front now, and there is no space for him to get his finger anywhere near your cunt, but his tongue is more than enough.

"Make me cum or I'm gonna fucking leave, you fucking asshole," you growl and grip a big chunk of his hair to get your message across. The man below you moans and resumes his job, clearly attracted by your lust-driven dominance. 'I like it when you're bossy', you re-call, and before you can finish the quote in your head, Seonghwa has plunged his tongue into your cunt.

"Ungh, fuck!", you moan, a bit more sensitive and distorted this time. Trying to hold your heavy upper body straight, Seonghwa is laving at your cunt, driving you crazy with the speed of his tongue maneuvering inside you. Maybe it was better that Seonghwa edged you, because now every flick is shooting you further into the abyss of pleasantry. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," you stutter, the second wave of the overwhelming euphoria gathering itself like a tsunami.

Seonghwa is more relaxed than you are, though his whole face is busy being used to pleasure you. His nose is dug into your clit and he's shaking his head around to be able to tickle it all during the while he's cutting away his breath to pant into your heat and spreading your slick on his tastebuds.

"Make me cum," you whine, "make me cum with your tongue!"

"Say 'please Seonghwa'," Seonghwa smirks and has the tip of his tongue placed on your clitoris just enough for your orgasm to not be washed away, but definitely not coming, while you grip more of his hair.

"You fucking bitch, I'll never fucking—", you pant, but there's no other way around it. You need this orgasm. "You—"

Seonghwa looks up to you and you can see him waiting. Pushing your thighs together because he annoys you so much, you yank his head closer to your cunt and scream, "okay, fuck, make me fucking cum, Seonghwa, please!"

The man between your thighs chuckles through his nose and once you said the magic-words, he opens his mouth back open to lap around your clit and cunt like a mad dog. Having been denied your orgasm for the second time, the third attempt to chase it down hits you even more, making you breathe heavily and loudly, and this time, the strings are pulling you to total stupification.

"Please, please, please, Seonghwa, please—"

Repeating the words Seonghwa wants to hear so bad again and again, you're fuelling his decision to finally allow you to come. His tongue circles around your clit as if he was racing with the music and your face is parallel to the floor, when your body goes lax and the strands of Seonghwa's hair are the only thing keeping you up.

"Seonghwa, please," you whisper again, weak, and almost sent over the top, while Seonghwa growls under you, his tongue stroking over your sensitive bud until you're shaking and pressing your legs together. "Fuck!", you scream out and Seonghwa throws one leg away from his shoulder, your wobbly foot landing on the floor, when the male stands up and gets to fingers into your cunt.

"Seonghwa, please—", you gasp, when he rams them into your throbbing arousal that barely reached its high and you have to get your arms around his neck if your knees are still worth something to you. "Oh my fucking god," and other moans come spurred out of you and Seonghwa bites into your shoulder to add another stimulative pain to all the sensations you're feeling.

His fingers are long and slender and for all you can grasp, they know what they're doing, when they're driving in and out with no mercy. That this is Seonghwa, you don't really care, that this isn't San, you do just a little bit, but "caring" takes a bit too long in the brain anyway. If your first orgasm from his tongue made your head fly, the second one is evaporating it. Your head feels light and corrupted by the DJ screaming inaudible things into his set, an artificially deepened laughing-track following his ad-lib and your lower body is trembling like a new-born deer, when Seonghwa keeps pushing against your soft patch inside. “Stop— stop, Seonghwa—“, you pant and your legs hold Seonghwa's wrist until he wiggles it out.

"You good?", Seonghwa laughs. He walks behind you and raises your face by your chin, pressing his own cheek next to yours, so both of your faces are seen in the mirror, his pelvis pushed against your ass again.

"Uh-huh," you shudder, your runny mascara making your eyes sticky, "very good."

He smiles, though it's definitely not a friendly smile. This isn't what friends do. It never will be something that friends do and you try to find some type of sanity behind your sunken irises, but there's nothing there. There is someone knocking on the door, Seonghwa's phone is vibrating in his pants, and like the bad person you are, you can't stop to wish that behind at least one of these interruptions is a certain someone is waiting for you, asking for you or anything— fuck. It's worse Seonghwa somehow knows what you're thinking, taking out his phone with his free hand, your face still being cupped by the other.

"You think this is him, don't you?", he asks and lets his temple drop against the top of your head, "Let's bet."

"If you think I'm gonna bet on something like that," you hiss and grind your bare ass against his clothed cock to distract him from the fact he's correct, “you’re a fucker.”

"I'm gonna fuck you, so I don't know where you're coming from here."

You scoff and throw his phone into the sink, when Seonghwa seemingly opens the message and starts to grin.

"Seonghwa," and you know you're lying through your teeth here with the full awareness that Seonghwa probably knows that you’re lying as well, "I want you," and yet you have the very secure feeling that you got into his head.

"Hm, what?", he asks and looks confused, unable to be angry that you snatched his phone out of his hand. You smirk for a short time and lean into his hand that's stroking your cheek. "I want you, Seonghwa," you sigh and pout. If you can't commit, you might as well commit to the lie, right? Be a little opportunistic.

"I don't care about San," you whisper and Seonghwa pulls down his glasses, making him human again.

"Really now…”

Choi San: the connection is so bad Choi San: where are you right now?

You nod and there’s a black-tinted tear rolling down your cheek, warm and melting on your skin. Seonghwa takes his thumb and glides it over the flow and holds his hand at your cheek again.

Choi San: i saw her Choi San: wtf she looked so different

You both saw the message and you both decided to ignore it. It doesn't matter anymore, his hand was already between your legs, your arousal has already coated his fingers.

That's how this works.

His touch, caressing your woeful face, his eyes pitying your pain. He's still erected, definitely impatient, but Seonghwa has something that you haven't experienced for a long time. You don't want to think of it, you can't think of it, because it might just be an illusion, but when Seonghwa slides his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, you have to suppress the suffocating feeling that you must never see this man ever again, if you don't want to carry this burden with you. You can't tell yourself enough, you do not want Seonghwa.

But it's nice.

"Look at yourself, Y/N. Look how pretty you are."

It's nice to know that someone wants you. That someone cares to wipe away the tears from your eyes, though they're not tears formed by a sadness you’d be able to express, a sadness that encourages you to hold eye contact with yourself, as Seonghwa whispers words of comfort into your ear. "Don't cry, pretty girl," he murmurs, and it feels like the music is being subdued around you. You've fallen from grace. “You could have anything in the world..”

How nice would it be, if he was right? You’re not sad, you have everything you could, don’t you? It could be this is just another lie you're going to commit to to protect yourself, but Seonghwa is holding you by your throat, cutting your airflow. The blood curdles in your head and while the male behind you is opening up his pants, the phone blinks.

Seonghwa and you both look down. Incoming call: Choi San.

"Oh," Seonghwa exhales and immediately checks for your reaction in the mirror, but your expression is empty. The drugs are fogging your mind and there is no ounce of vitality behind your eyes.

Seonghwa turns the phone around. "Fuck me first, Seonghwa," you tell him, your voice wispy, barely understandable, he probably had to lip-read in order to understand what you were saying, "let's get it over with."

He doesn't appreciate your dismissive tone, but Seonghwa is too horny to say anything against it, pushing you over the sink, grabbing his cock and placing it near your cunt. While your abdomen is pressed against the dirty, cold surface, Seonghwa is murmuring something under his breath and gliding his hot, throbbing erection across your pulsating folds. "I don't care at all," you whine, trying to convince yourself and ignore the continuous buzzing from his phone, but also make him hurry up. There's an end-goal you're chasing here.

"Kiss me," you order the male behind you, and as he finally positions his tip at your entrance, Seonghwa tilts your head to the side, ripping your gaze away from his mobile. "You really like kissing, don't you?", he huffs and smirks, pushing himself into you in one slow thrust. "Fuuuck," you breathe, feeling your walls expand for his length, "what about it?"

"I just think it's sweet. It makes it more personal, doesn't it?"

"Come on, Hwa, are you trying to make me angry again? I'm getting tired here," you purl and visibly roll your eyes at him, your eyelids getting heavier with each word that's spoken out loud. Your body weighs into Seonghwa's arms and if he doesn't hurry up, you'll fall asleep, your pulsating cunt tightening around his girth.

"Sweetheart, let me talk," he says, in a soft voice that makes your heart drop. You don't want him, you don't want his sweetness, fuck, you only wanted Seonghwa for this one night, for his dick and dick only, why is he trying to get inside your head? Don't do it, you try to mouth to him. You don't know him, he doesn't know you, his cock is inside your cunt, this is the worst timing to—

"You're something else."

"Seonghwa, stop, before you say anything too nice. Just close your mouth, this isn't good for both of us, you already said we're bad people. You know we don't want this," you mutter and start moving your ass to somehow get his mind elsewhere, but through his whimpers and low moans, Seonghwa won't stop grunting under the influence.

"No, speak for god-damn yourself, because, shit, Y/N, I can't watch it anymore, okay? Every day and night— You come over and let yourself be played by San, that fucking asshole, and I just think—"

"Seonghwa, shut the fuck up!", you scream and you're a breath away from pulling his cock out your cunt and leave this place naked, but just when you thought you can't do it anymore, Seonghwa has gotten his hands on your hips, digging his fingernails into your skin as if he's trying to hopelessly keep you close, his pelvis clapping against your ass, as he strikes into you.

Surprised, you moan and your fingers slip against the edge of the sink, strands of your hair falling in front of your face. You weren't prepared for that kind of vigor.

"Don't you dare think I'm that pathetic," he growls and thrusts into you with force in a rhythm that is terrifyingly close to the music outside, his cock slamming against your inner wall, making your legs close up by themselves.

"I'm not thinking I could treat you better," Seonghwa huffs and gets the hair away from your face, grabbing your hair to clear up your view, "I'm thinking what a fucking cockslut you are, Y/N."

Drugs never make sad people happier. Never make broken people whole.

So even when Seonghwa makes you realize that none of the men in your life have ever taken you serious, a hoarse laugh leaves your mouth, and you tilt your head to the back to examine the traces of them on your neck. Your eyes glisten with the way you're being fucked from behind and your mouth is not closing, you've lost control over yourself a long time ago, and it's not when this long day started with you in San's bed, it's when he took off your shirt on that random night during exam season.

"You're lucky you're pretty," he grunts and you chuckle, smiling absent-minded, upper body see-sawing with Seonghwa's pelvis-movement. Your ass is slowly hurting from how hard he is driving himself in, but you're too busy looking at your neck.

Red, red, red. A little bit of purple. A big patch here, small spots over there; anyone could look at you and would know that you've been claimed by someone. Maybe even think that you're, gasp, in a relationship! They wouldn't guess it was two people to leave these hickeys, and frankly, they would be right to think you're claimed by one person only.

"San said he'd fuck me stupid," you giggle— you're fetching old memories from your mind, re-painting the colors, completing the gaps like a mandala; the same memories from the older days which you wouldn't call better, but certainly easier; from days where you didn't have to worry about a man breaking your heart.

Seonghwa scoffs and grabs you by your tit, pulling your nipple with harsh tugs, the sensitive, delicate nub being wounded by his aggressiveness. He's stopped being gentle a long time ago, leaving a big star-shaped mark on your ass by clapping the surface of his hand.

"San said I'm his whore," you reminisce, biting your teeth through the pain, and Seonghwa is speeding up his thrusting, his cock angled inside you to entirely fill out your tight space.

"San said—"

Seonghwa has had enough. He's pressing the surface of his hand onto your mouth and nose, silencing you, cutting you short of your air, your eyes rolling back, but it doesn't prevent your thoughts to continue tumbling down. Seonghwa may be jolting his hips into you like his life depends on it, and in a way, that may be true, but he'll never pleasure you like San could.

People-pleaser. San said he was a people-pleaser.

You don't remember the orgasm, you don't remember Seonghwa's loud grunt into your ear, you don't remember how much hot cum he ejaculated into you, how panicked the black-haired was, when he asked you whether you took the pill, how quickly he became sober and put his clothes back on, the speed of time seemingly passing like a rocket-ship, the music never stopping to blitz into your brain, how the porta-potty became really fucking empty, once Seonghwa left it, but what you do remember is how you took his phone that he forgot like the dumb-ass he was, and how weak your voice sounded, when you answered San's call that by some magical way, kept ringing in.

"Can you come fetch me?"

"Who is this?"

"Come fetch me, please."

"Y/N?"

And people-pleasers should do anything to keep their people happy.

Especially if they're Choi San and avoidant of conflict.

part 4: coming soon!

#choi san smut #choi san x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #choi san scenarios #choi san x y/n #choi san x you #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x y/n #haveyourwaywithwordsbemypeoplepleaser #chokkiwa

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starryeyedmunson · 2 years

Text

meet me in the pale moonlight - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: it’s based loosely on the song ‘meet me in the pale moonlight’ by lana del rey, you are liked by everyone in town, except by eddie munson. you were going to crack that kid one way or another, and you were ready to use your charm on him in more ways than one.

warnings: way too much smut (minors get out of here. go on, scram), swearing, mention of both drinking and drugs but no usage, kind of switch!eddie but leaning more dom, kind of switch!reader but leaning more sub, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, princess, pretty boy), oral (f and m receiving), p in v, slight breeding kink (i had to), choking, orgasm denial, slight bondage (ish, you’ll get it in context)

author’s note: i worked very hard on this so PLEASE show some love. also i’m writing this on my 6 hour flight home next to a man who is listening so intently to a joe rogan podcast, and i’m uncomfortable to say the least. hopefully this scares him away. enjoy this sex rant. (update: he watched me write every word and even ASKED ME what i was working on. i said homework. it’s literally summer. i’m not okay)

word count: 4.9k

with every step you took, another jaw dropped.

you, y/n y/l/n, had everyone in the palm of your hand. wherever you walked, countless pairs of eyes followed, and it earned you a spot at the cheerleaders and basketball players’ table. you set your tray down smiling, and you had an arm swung over your shoulder that belonged to your friend, miles. you laughed and pushed him off of you, then turned to your best friend, chrissy cunningham.

“hey, how was history?” she asked. “i had a doctor’s appointment, so i couldn’t go.”

“i wouldn’t know, i skipped,” you said with a smirk. she rolled her eyes and laughed, and you smiled along with her. your eyes scanned the cafeteria quickly until you landed on a certain table. a certain person.

remember the whole “everyone in the palm of your hand” thing? i forgot to mention the only exception.

eddie freaking munson.

he never took one look in your direction. ever. you looked at him every time he walked down the hallway, but he could not care less about your presence.

it was infuriating.

it wasn’t that you weren’t satisfied with everyone else’s eyes on you; you were. but something about eddie’s total lack of interest made you unable to give two shits about other looks that you were so used to. you knew he hated your friend group given that they bullied him literally every day, but you never partook. you just sat there, amused by his bizarre responses to the nasty comments your friends made. the way he didn’t care about what anyone thought of him intrigued you, and you decided that you wanted him. bad.

the lunch bell drew you from your own head, and you were tugged upwards by miles and jason. you slapped their hands away and got up yourself, walking to the class you all shared.

the rest of the day went by very quickly, and as you walked out of last period you were mauled by two freshmen.

“what the fuck!’ you yelled, whipping your head around to find a set of one curly-haired and another lanky and way-too-tall boys.

you looked at them with raised eyebrows before the tall one spoke.

“we- we’re so sorry,” he said wide-eyed. “we’re l-late for something and- i’m sorry w- we have to go,” speaking at a rate of a thousand words per minute.

you were barely registering as you looked down at their shirts. they matched eddie’s and you instantly came up with an idea. the boys were already scrambling away before you yelled at them.

“wait!” you said. they froze, then slowly turned around. you smiled sweetly and walked towards them. “wheeler, right?” you said to the almost-black haired boy. he gulped and nodded his head ‘yes’ a little too aggressively, and you gave him your signature cutesy laugh.

“listen,” you turned to the smaller boy who now spoke at you. “we would love to stay and chat, but we’re about to get our asses handed to us if we’re late for this thing.”

“your club, right?” you said, totally uninterested in the details. the wheeler kid nodded again. “i’ve always wanted to know what you guys really did, do you mind if i come?”

you watched them both look to each other, back to you, then to each other, then finally back to you.

“um, sure?” wheeler said. you clasped your hands together and smiled, completely aware of the effect of talking to a pretty senior girl was having on these two poor freshmen.

“lead the way,” you said.

you knew damn well you were not walking into that classroom to sit and pretend to be interested in whatever it was they did, so when you walked in with those two boys and everyone’s eyes widened, you thought you knew what you signed up for.

boy, you could not be more wrong.

there sat eddie, in some sort of throne. he didn’t even look up as he set up a folder and a book of some sort, messing around with the little statues and game pieces that littered the board.

“th-this is y/n,” one of the freshmen said. you waved a shy ‘hi’ at the group who sat there unmoving. you had to hide your smirk as they stared at you, but your confidence fell flat when the entire reason you came to the stupid club meeting looked at you with the most unimpressed expression you had ever witnessed.

“this is why you were late?” he said. the boys’ faces turned bright red, and they scurried towards the table. you cleared your throat before trying to work your magic.

“i was just curious about what your game actually was,” you said slowly, putting your hands innocently behind your back. his disinterested expression hardened, and you could tell he was not buying a single word that spilled from your mouth.

“that’s great, sweetheart, but i don’t care,” he said, his eyes moving back down to the table. you almost huffed in frustration, but you just cleared your throat and excused yourself, walking out of the classroom. the door closed behind you, and you let out a quiet groan. you were going to crack this kid if it was the last thing you did.

the next day rolled around, and there you were at lunch. you glared in eddie’s direction while he paid you no mind, but you were shaken from your concentration by chrissy.

“did you even hear me?” she said while laughing.

“what’d you say?” you said back.

“i said are you excited for the party tonight? i’ve been thinking about it all week and need to run some outfits by you,” she said rapidly. you rolled your eyes before replying.

“chris, we get drunk, like, every weekend. this probably isn’t going to be that much different than last friday. or the one before that. or the one before-“

“okay, okay, i get it,“ she said. “but what else is there to do? there’s not really another way to have fun besides, like, drugs or something.” the mention of drugs peaked your interest. you slowly turned your head to her with a knowing smirk, and she started shaking her head. “no no no, that was a joke, y/n,” but your smile grew even wider.

“come on, it’ll be so much fun. plus, i know exactly where to get them,” you said, the perfect plan falling into place.

“you? know where to buy-“ she cut herself off and gave you a look. “no. you might get possessed.”

“shut up, it’ll be fine,” you said before smirking. she raised her eyebrows before slowly nodding her head down and sighing.

“if he murders you, all i’m going to say at your funeral is ‘i told you so’”

“no.”

“what? come on,” you said with a pout. you had cornered eddie at his locker, and he wasn’t even facing you.

“i’m not selling weed, let alone cocaine to a person who has never touched drugs in their life,” he said with an annoyed tone.

“and how do you know i’ve never tried drugs?” you said, poking his arm. he turned and looked you up and down, then raised an eyebrow once he made it back to your face. “okay, fine. but you know what they say, you gotta start somewhere!” you said enthusiastically.

truth was, you didn’t give a shit about what he was selling. you just wanted to get some alone time with him, even if you had to spend money to do it.

god, this was a new low for you.

“if i do it will you leave me the hell alone?” he said. you nodded excitedly and flashed him a smile that he didn’t return. “fine. meet me in the woods just outside of school at eight. deal?”

you faltered at the thought of being in the woods, alone, with eddie munson, at night. “uh, yeah, deal.” you said, the fake smile making its way back onto your face.

he nodded curtly and slammed his locker shut, leaving you alone in the hallway. you wondered if it was a mistake, if meeting him tonight was a good idea. you shook your head to get the hair out of your face as well as the concern out of your head, and you walked towards the front of school both excited and nervous about what would transpire in about five hours.

you sat on the table, your leg bouncing on the bench with nervousness. you looked around as you waited for the long-haired boy, no, man to show up, and when he finally did you breathed a sigh of relief. he walked up slowly and showed genuine surprise when he saw your frame sitting atop the table.

“well, well, well, the princess actually showed up,” he said, and you could make out the smirk on his face as he walked closer. the moonlight was hitting him just right when he finally stopped in front of you.

“oh i’m a princess? don’t flatter me, munson,” you said with a smirk to match his. he rolled his eyes and sat down next to you, setting down the black box he carried with him everywhere. he opened it to reveal an assortment of bags of weed, pill bottles, and tiny bags filled with a white powder. you gulped at the sight of all the illicit paraphernalia, and he laughed to himself.

“i’m definitely not selling this to you now, princess” he said with drawling out the pet name, and you shook the expression from your face before looking back up at him.

“first of all, stop calling me that,” you said. “second of all, you shut up. it’s not every day that a sweet girl like me sees a bunch of felonies in some kid’s lunch box.”

“a sweet girl like you?” eddie laughed out. “please, nothing about you is sweet.”

you were genuinely taken aback. “and what makes you say that?”

“don’t think i don’t know why you walked into hellfire yesterday,” he said knowingly, and you coughed from embarrassment. “don’t think i don’t feel you staring at me from across every room we share. it’s quite pathetic, really.”

“how would you know i stare at you? quite presumptuous if you ask me,” you said with absolutely no confidence. you were in a position you had never been in before, and you had no idea what was going on as eddie closed the lunchbox and set it down. his body was now fully facing yours, and the smirk on his face was humiliating you more by the second.

“are you denying that you do?” he asked. you were falling into his trap by looking into his dark eyes. you knew they were brown, but you couldn’t make them out due to the darkness. the moon was still hitting his face perfectly, giving the side of his face a sort of glow. your eyes flitted around his illuminated features, and you realized how pretty he actually was.

you slowly shook your head. the smirk on his face grew, yet it now had a certain darkness behind it. now it was his eyes that ran across your face, really taking in your features.

“and is there anything you’re going to do about it?” you said, genuinely nervous.

“would you like me to, princess?” he asked, his face inching closer and closer to yours. your breath hitched. this was it. this was what you had so desperately craved. but now that the moment was here, you were putty in his hands when it was supposed to be the other way around. chrissy, your friends, and the party you were supposed to be attending were now distant thoughts as eddie took control of your head. everything in your body was screaming at you to get back at least some of your dignity, but you had never experienced the submission you were now.

but you fuckin’ liked it.

you nodded your head lightly, and he took the signal. he leaned in, and as soon as your lips connected, it was straight fireworks. clearly he had done this before, much to your surprise, but every thought was taken away from you with each movement of your mouths. his one hand moved its way to your hips, gripping tightly and causing your breath to falter and him to smile into your kisses. they deepened, and soon enough you were out of air. your tongues clashed as you both fought for dominance, but eddie prevailed every time. your teeth were almost touching as your make out session heated up. the hand that wasn’t gripping your waist moved to the back of your head where eddie laced his fingers through your hair. he tugged lightly at first, then it grew harsher. your hands were gripping his arms for dear life as he pulled on your perfectly curled locks, eliciting moans from your mouth.

he bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, and you were breathless when he did so. the smirk plastered on his face paired with his flushed cheeks was enough to start a pooling of arousal from you, and you knew he was going to give you shit for it when he found out.

he kept eye contact as he moved down to your neck, only breaking it to go to work. your arms flew around him and it was your turn to tangle your fingers in his hair. contrasting you, he pulled your hair to the point that your head was thrown back, giving him more access to leave markings all across your neck. it felt so good, the hot and sloppy kisses that he left in his wake. he occasionally bit down on the flesh and sucked hard before smoothing the now-bruised skin over with his tongue.

you were drowning in pleasure, and he lifted his head to look back at you.

“look at you,” he said, looking your face up and down. “so easily turned on.” he ran the hand on your hip down to your thigh, grazing the skin over and over while stopping at the hem of your skirt every time. “i’m liking the skirt, sweetheart. reminds me of you in that little cheerleading uniform i get to see you in at school.” you were dripping at his words, but the only way you could communicate was through whimpers of desperation. he chuckled darkly as he looked down at your legs, and he slowly dragged his fingers lightly to finally push up the edge of the skirt like he had always fantasized about doing.

shit, you thought. this is the big reveal.

his hands finally reached the place where your thighs met your pelvis, and he abruptly stopped. he looked up at you in genuine surprise before his expression changed into one of impressment.

“and what did you think you were doing, coming here with no panties on?” your eyes moved slowly up to his face, only to see his pupils blown as he looked at you.

“i know how to get what i want” you countered, finding your confidence that was thrown out the window since seeing him walk up to the table just minutes earlier.

“we’ll see about that, princess,” he said. “you’re going to have to be very good, do you understand?” you nodded your head, growing impatient as his fingers made their way to where you wanted them most.

he finally gave in, running two of his fingers between your folds. it was enough to make you cum right there, but you were pushed to the edge when those same fingers found your clit. he applied only the lightest bit of pressure, and your hips bucked upwards out of instinct to get more of what you needed.

“ah-ah,” he said, pulling his hand way. “wait your turn, sweetheart.” you groaned out of irritation, but you were instantly satisfied as you felt his fingers return to their spot on your now-throbbing clit.

he slowly pressed harder as he rubbed circles over it, and at this point you were a moaning mess. he had barely even done anything, yet there you were, writhing and needy with your eyes closed and your head thrown back. he was staring at you with lust in his eyes, but he pulled his hand away yet again. your eyes opened quickly and you looked at him, but he just laughed.

“since you’ve been so good and sound so sweet,” he said, but he didn’t finish his sentence as he got off the table and centered himself in between your legs, your skirt still on. he sat on the bench in front of you and looked up at you with those big brown eyes, and you were mentally preparing yourself for what you knew was about to happen. “lay down on the table,” he said in a low and commanding voice. you slowly did so, and you could feel his hot breath on your pussy before he finally lifted the bottom of your skirt and attached his mouth to your clit.

the way he took it in his mouth, sucking harshly and running his tongue over it while licking fat stripes up your pussy in between had you reeling. his hand snaked up your still-clothed body until it found your neck, where his grip tightened and put you in a frenzy. his other arm had your leg hooked around it where he held you down to keep you from moving.

“fuck, eddie,” you moaned out, your hands instantly grabbing at his hair. his grasp on your neck was tight, but not completely suffocating. “m-more.”

“what was that?” he said, looking up at you but never ceasing his relentless eating your pussy.

“m-more, p-please,” you choked out, trying your best to form the words. you felt eddie smile against your core.

“as you wish, princess,” he said before removing his hand from your throat. he traced all the way back down your body before his hand found where your entrance was, slowly pushing a single digit inside.

you should’ve just brought a megaphone with how loud you yelled, his finger pumping slowly in and out. the feeling of his tongue swirling your clit and his finger curling inside of you was almost too much to bear, and when he added a second it was game over.

“p-please,” you moaned out. “g-gonna c-“

everything stopped.

your head flew up to look at him where you were met with a devilish smirk. you had had about enough, and as a surge of irritation and sexual rage washed over you, so did a leap of confidence.

“what’s the look for, doll?” he said. you took the smirk away from him, and you sat up and leaned forward. you lifted his chin with your finger before you kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. you pulled away and were met with a confused look on his face. you swung your leg over his head before hopping off the table, moving to be behind him. he turned his head to look at you, but you stood still.

“all the way around, pretty boy,” you said. now it was his turn to lose the confidence, and he silently obliged. once he was facing you, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and took it off, nice and slow. he watched you, mouth gaped open when you finally dropped the shirt on the ground. not only were you not wearing underwear, but it seemed that you had forgot your bra as well. he drank in your appearance, not even know where to rest his eyes as he admired you. you walked over to him slowly, and he watched as you got on your knees. the leaves were rough, but you barely paid any attention to that as you looked up at eddie with doe eyes. he gulped as you ran your fingers along his thighs and up to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slowly. he hurriedly took it off and threw it somewhere, and you laughed to yourself.

“so eager,” you said, now in complete control. your hands then moved to his zipper and slowly undid it. his breath hitched as you reached the bottom of the zip, and you palmed him through his briefs. he let out a soft ‘ah’ as your hand wrapped around his clothed length, stroking it softly. he stared at you as you picked up the pace, finally using your other hand to pull at his waistband as a signal for him to take off his pants. you pulled away as he frantically took of his pants and briefs, laughing at his fumbling. your laughter was cut short once his cock sprang free. you were impressed to say the least, and eddie caught it.

“like what you see, sweetheart?” he said cockily.

“did i say you could talk?” you said, not wanting to give up the control you had just gotten. he put his hands up in defense and leaned back while still looking at you. you grabbed his cock once again, the feeling of his skin warm under your fingers. you resumed your stroking, and eddie’s breathing became uneven. it wasn’t until you kitten-licked his tip that he let out a small moan. he sounded so good, so needy as the small sounds came from his mouth. you continued teasing him, now running your tongue on the underside of his throbbing length.

“b-baby,” he said, completely out of breath.

“wait your turn, remember?” you said, quoting him from before. he let out a laugh that turned into a guttural moan as you took him in your moth completely.

he had never had it like this before. the way your head bobbed up and down, your mouth holding what you couldn’t fit. the way you let your tongue drag roughly up his cock while sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. the way you looked up at him with those big eyes of yours. and when you finally removed your mouth to reattach it to his balls, he lost it.

he had now turned into the moaning mess as you jacked him off, his balls your new area of focus. his head was facing upwards as he tried not to close his eyes, but everything you were doing had him on a chokehold.

“f-fuck, y/n,” he stuttered. “feel s-so good.”

you detached yourself but still moved your hand up and down his shaft, and you smiled up at him. “such pretty sounds from such a pretty boy. you gonna come for me?” you said, your voice almost doing the job for him. he nodded quickly, his eyes closing as he felt that familiar feeling build up.

again, everything stopped.

he head was still pointing at the sky as he let out a dark laugh. his hands moved from your hair to your hot cheeks, and he slowly looked down at you.

“bad decision, sweetheart.”

you knew you were totally in for it at this point.

he guided you with his hands still cupping your cheeks onto your feet, and you began to take your skirt off before his hands flew to grip your arms.

“leave it on,” he said maintaining eye contact. you nodded with a silent smile before he led you to the end of the table. you had just caught your breath before you were spun around to face the table, his hand on your lower back pushing you down onto your stomach roughly.

you waited a couple seconds before you felt eddie’s cock run up and down your pussy, causing you to groan in anticipation.

“i don’t know if you deserve this, princess. my cock inside of you. you haven’t been a very good girl, edging me like you just did.”

“please, eds,” you breathed out. “i promise i’ll be good just-“ he cut you off by completely railing into you. you cried out in pain that immediately turned into pleasure. he pulled back out all the way.

“what did you say?” he said. “i don’t think you finished.”

“p-please. fuck m-me please,” you moaned out, already missing the feeling of his cock inside of you. you could practically see the smile on his face as he pressed slowly into you this time, stretching you out. your hands, beside your head, scratched at the table, and he grabbed them to hold behind your back. the feeling of his hips hitting your ass mixed with his dick hitting just below your g-spot was pure ecstasy. you could feel a layer of sweat on your back, yet eddie kept his hand there to hold you down. you moaned his name over and over as he made you his, his cock slipping in and out of your wet core with ease.

“so fucking tight,” he said, breathing heavily. “and so wet. for who? say who it’s for, baby.” you could barely think as the speed of him fucking you kept increasing. your legs became wobbly as you heard him speak again. “words, y/n, say who it’s for.”

“y-you,” you managed. “all f-for you.” he groaned as he pulled out. you were suddenly empty, but with the speed in which he flipped you over and hooked your legs on his shoulders was fast enough that you were full of him again in no time.

your eyes were rolling into the back of your head as this new position finally gave him the access to that perfect spot in your pussy, and he was ruining you with every thrust. your eyes were opened and trained on his face. there were beads of sweat formed around his hairline, and his head was down as he watched himself fuck you over and over again. your gaze moved down to see what he was looking at, and you almost came from the sight alone. he moved in and out of you at the fast, perfect pace you loved, and you were turned cock-drunk. your hands were helplessly grasping at nothing, and you screamed his name once his fingers found your clit.

you were moving closer and closer to your orgasm, but you couldn’t even think with him fucking you the way he was. you let out a small whimper, and eddie understood you perfectly.

“i know, baby, but not just yet,” he said, quickening the circles he rubbed into your sensitive clit. you looked up at him, and he almost lost it then. you were completely fucked out, your hair everywhere and your cheeks flushed. “jesus, you look so pretty like this. all ruined because of me,” he said reaching back for your throat. the familiar feeling of his hand tightening around your neck was the last thing you needed to be sent over the edge.

“e-eddie, n-need,” was all you could get out.

“hold on, doll, just a little longer i promise,” he said, his attention going back down to where he was relentlessly fucking your hole. “wanna cum with you.”

“f-fill me u-up,” you said. you had never let anyone do that before, but the way you were completely lost in lust had you hooked on him.

“fuck, baby,” he said, looking back to you. his hand tightened even more, knocking the wind out of you. “want me to cum inside you? want me to fill this pretty pussy of yours?” you nodded frantically. “gonna need to hear it, princess. want you to tell me you want my cum dripping from your hole.”

“yes, fuck! please i n-need it,” you yelled out. it was all you could bear, and the knot in your stomach was a dam about to break. “please, c-can i c- please,” you said. it didn’t make any sense, but eddie knew you like the back of his hand at this point.

“come on, princess. you can do it,” he said softly. you let yourself go, crying out his name as your walls throbbed around his cock, you had never cum this hard, and it resulted in your squirt drenching both yourself and eddie. it was euphoric, and eddie couldn’t hold it in anymore either after that. he chased after you, white hot liquid spurting deep into your pussy. you felt every drop as he fucked you through both of your orgasms.

the high died down, and he finally pulled out to reveal you leaking with his cum. he was breathing heavily as he walked over to grab both your and his own shirts, and he walked back over to you who was still laying on the table and looking up at the stars. he placed your shirt on your stomach, and you took it from him with limp hands. you felt a cloth come in contact with your now-overstimulated clit, and you hissed from the feeling.

“sorry, doll,” he muttered as he cleaned you up first, then himself. you sat up on your elbows as you watched him, then made eye contact with him as he lifted his head. you sat up completely and put your shirt on, but when you pulled it over your head you saw eddie still shirtless. you cocked your head, and he raised an eyebrow. “what, did you think i was going to put this back on?” you laughed, but due to your soreness you tried to cut it short. he smiled down at you before continuing.

“alright, lay it on me,” he said. “was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“i wouldn’t say that,” you joked, and he let out a small laugh.

“well then, princess, i guess i’m just going to have to keep trying until it is.”

“i guess you will,” you said with a smile.

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